Enamored

by Diana Palmer

  He turned, his dark eyes sweeping over the pale rose dress she wore, which emphasized the soft curves of her body. In the weeks of her recovery, her thinness had left her. She looked much healthier now, and her body was exquisitely appealing. He almost ground his teeth at the effect just gazing at her had on him.

  “You look lovely,” he said absently.

  “I’d look lovelier if I got more sleep,” she returned. “We argue so much lately, Diego.”

  He sighed, moving close to her. Matthew took advantage of their distraction to turn on an educational children’s program and laugh with delight at some rhymes.

  “And at a time when we should have laid the ghosts to rest, sí?” he asked. His lean hands rested gently on her shoulders, caressing her skin through the soft fabric. His black eyes searched hers restlessly. “A little trust, niña, is all that we need.”

  She smiled wistfully. “And what neither of us seem to have.”

  He bent to brush his mouth softly over her lips. “Let it come naturally,” he whispered. “There is still time, is there not?”

  Tears stung her eyes at the tenderness in his deep voice. She lifted her arms and twined them around his neck, her fingers caressing the thick hair at the back of his head. “I hope so,” she whispered achingly. “For Matthew’s sake.”

  “For his—and not for ours?” he asked quietly. “We lead separate lives, and that cannot continue.”

  “I know.” She leaned her forehead against his firm chin and closed her eyes. “You never really wanted me. I suppose I should be grateful that you came when I went down in the crash. I never expected you to take care of Matt and me.”

  He touched her hair absently. “How could I leave you like that?” he asked.

  “I thought you would when you knew about Matt,” she confessed.

  He tilted her chin and looked into her eyes. His were solemn, unreadable. “Melissa, I have been alone all my life, except for family. Every day I lived as if death were at the door. I never meant to become involved with you. But I wanted you, little one,” he whispered huskily. “Wanted you obsessively, until you were all I breathed. It was my own loss of control, my guilt, which drove us apart. I could not bear to be vulnerable. But I was.” He shrugged. “That was what sent me from the casa. It was the reason I lied the night you ran out into the rain and had to be taken to the hospital. Repulse me?” He laughed bitterly. “If only you knew. Even now, I tremble like a boy when you touch me….”

  Her heart jerked at his admission, because she could feel the soft tremor that ran through his lean body. But after all, it was only desire. And she wanted, needed, so much more.

  “Would desire be enough, though?” she asked sadly, watching him.

  He touched her soft cheek. “Melissa, we enjoy the same things. We like the same people. We even agree on politics. We both love the child.” He smiled. “More important, we have known each other for oh, so long, niña. You know me to the soles of my feet, faults and all. Is that not a better basis for marriage than the desire you seem to think is our only common ground?”

  “You might fall in love with someone—” she began.

  He touched her mouth with a lean forefinger. “Why not tempt me into falling in love with you, querida?” he murmured. “These new clothes and the way you play lately have more effect than you realize.” He bent toward her.

  She met his lips without restraint, smiling against their warmth. “Could you?”

  “Could I what?” he whispered.

  “Fall in love with me?”

  He chuckled. “Why not tempt me and see?”

  She felt a surge of pure joy at the sweetness of the way he was looking at her, but before she could answer him, Matt wormed his way between them and wanted to know if they were ever going to leave to go to church.

  They went to lunch after mass and then to a movie that Matt wanted to see. For the rest of the day, there was a new comradeship in the way Diego reacted to her. There were no more accusations or arguments. They played with Matt and cooked supper together for the second night in a row. And that night, when Matt was tucked up and Melissa said good-night to Diego, it was with real reluctance that she went to her room.

  “Momento, niña,” he called, and joined her at her door. Without another word, he drew her gently against him and bent to kiss her with aching tenderness. “Sleep well.”

  She touched his mouth with hers. “You…too.” Her eyes asked a question she was too shy to put into words, but he shook his head.

  “Not just yet, my own,” he breathed. His black eyes searched hers. “Only when all the barriers are down will we take that last, sweet step together. For now it is enough that we begin to leave the past behind. Is it tomorrow night that our guests are expected?”

  The sudden change of subject was rather like jet lag, she thought amusedly, but she adjusted to it. “Yes. Mrs. Albright and I will no doubt spend the day in the kitchen, but I’ve already called Gabby and Danielle and Joyce, and they’ve accepted. I’m looking forward to actually meeting the other wives, although we’ve talked on the phone quite a lot. I like them.”

  “I like you,” he said unexpectedly, and smiled. “Dream of me,” he whispered, brushing his mouth against hers one last time. Then he was gone, quietly striding down the hall to his study.

  Melissa went into her room, but not to sleep. She did dream of him, though.

  The next day was hectic. That evening, Melissa dressed nervously in one of her new dresses. It was a sweet confection in tones of pink, mauve and lavender with a wrapped bodice and a full skirt and cap sleeves. It took five years off her age and made her look even more blond and fair than she was.

  She was trying to fasten a bracelet when she came out of her bedroom. Diego was in the living room, sipping brandy. He watched her approach with a familiar darkness in his eyes, an old softness that brought back so many memories.

  “Allow me,” he said, putting the brandy snifter down to fasten the bracelet for her. He didn’t release her arm when he finished. He frowned, staring at the bracelet.

  She knew immediately why he was staring. The bracelet was a tiny strand of white gold with inlaid emeralds, an expensive bit of nothing that Diego had given her when she’d graduated from high school. She colored delicately, and his eyes lifted to hers.

  “So long ago I gave you this, querida,” he said softly. He lifted her wrist to his lips and kissed it. His mustache tickled her delicate skin. “It still means something to you—is that why you kept it all these years, even when you hated me?” he probed.

  She closed her eyes at the sight of the raven-black head bent over her hand. “I was never able to hate you, though,” she said with a bitter laugh. Tears burned her eyes. “I tried, but you haunted me. You always have.”

  He drew in a steadying breath as his black head lifted and his eyes searched hers. “As you haunted me,” he breathed roughly. “And now, niña? Do you still care for me, a little, despite the past?” he added, hoping against hope for mere crumbs.

  “You needn’t pretend that you don’t know how I feel about you,” she said, her chin trembling under her set lips. “You’re like an addiction that I can’t quite cure. I gave you everything I had to give, and still it wasn’t enough…!” Tears slipped from her eyes.

  “Melissa, don’t!” He caught her to him in one smooth, graceful motion, his lean hand pressing her face into his dark dinner jacket. “Don’t cry, little one, I can’t bear it.”

  “You hate me!”

  His fingers contracted in her hair and his eyes closed. “No! Dios mío, amada, how could I hate you?” His cheek moved roughly against hers as he sought her mouth and found it suddenly with his in the silence of the room. He kissed her with undisguised hunger, his hands gentle at her back, smoothing her body into his, caressing her. “Part of me died when you left. You took the very color from my life and left me with nothing but guilt and grief.”

  She hardly heard him. His mouth was insistent and she needed him
, wanted him. She was reaching up to hold him when the doorbell sounded loudly in the silence.

  He drew his head back reluctantly, and the arms that held her had a faint tremor. “No more deceptions,” he said softly. “We must be honest with each other now. Tonight, when the others leave, we have to talk.”

  She touched his mouth, tracing the thick black mustache. “Can you bear total honesty, Diego?” she asked huskily.

  “Perhaps you underestimate me.”

  “Didn’t I always?” she sighed.

  He heard voices out in the hall and released Melissa to take her hand and lead her toward the group. “When our guests leave, there will be all the time in the world to talk. Matthew has gone to bed, but you might check on him while I pass around drinks to our visitors. Mrs. Albright mentioned that his stomach was slightly uneasy.”

  “I’ll go now.” Melissa felt his fingers curl around hers with a thrill of pleasure and gazed up at him. She found his dark eyes smiling down into hers. It had been a long time since they’d been close like this, and lately it had been difficult even to talk to him. She returned the pressure of his hand as they joined a shell-shocked Apollo and a smug Joyce. The West Indian woman didn’t even look like Joyce. She was wearing one of the dresses she and Melissa had found while they’d been shopping. It was a cinnamon-and-rust chiffon that clung lovingly to her slender figure, with a soft cowl neckline. Her feet were in strappy high heels. Her hair was pulled back with wisps at her ears, and she was wearing the makeup she’d bought at the boutique. She was a knockout, and Apollo’s eyes were registering that fact with reluctance and pure malice.

  “Now what did I tell you?” Melissa asked, gesturing at Joyce’s dress. “You’re just lovely!”

  “Indeed she is.” Diego lifted her hand to his lips and smiled at her while Apollo shifted uncomfortably and muttered good evening to his host and hostess.

  “I’m just going to look in on Matthew. I’ll be right back,” Melissa promised, excusing herself.

  The little boy was oddly quiet, his eyes drowsy. Melissa pushed back his dark hair and smiled at him.

  “Feel okay?” she asked.

  “My tummy doesn’t,” he said. “It hurts.”

  “Where does it hurt, baby?” she asked gently, and he indicated the middle of his stomach. She asked as many more questions as she could manage and decided it was probably either a virus or something he’d eaten. Still, it could be appendicitis. If it was, it would get worse very quickly, she imagined. She’d have to keep a careful eye on him.

  “Try to sleep,” she said, her voice soft and loving. “If you don’t feel better by morning, we’ll see the doctor, all right?”

  “I don’t want to see the doctor,” Matthew said mutinously. “Doctors stick needles in people.”

  “Not all the time. And you want to get better, don’t you? Papa mentioned that we might go to the zoo again next weekend,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “There are bears at the zoo.”

  “Then we’ll have to get you better. Try to get some sleep, and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “All right, Mama.”

  “I’m just down the hall, and I’ll leave your door open a crack. If you need me, call, okay?” She kissed his forehead and paused to smile at him before leaving. But she was almost sure it was a stomach virus. Mrs. Albright’s grandson had come down with it just after Matthew had been downstairs to visit him again two days before. It was just a twenty-four-hour bug, but it could make a little boy pretty miserable all the same.

  She wiped the frown off her face when she got into the living room. Gabby and J.D. Brettman had arrived by now, and Diego put a snifter of brandy into Melissa’s hand and drew her to his side while they talked about Chicago and the business. His arm was possessive, and she delighted in the feel of it, in the feel of him, so close. Her love for him had grown by leaps and bounds in the past few weeks. She wondered if she could even exist apart from him now. Minutes later, Eric van Meer and his wife, a rather plain brunette with glasses and a lovely smile, joined the group. Melissa was surprised; she’d expected Dutch to show up with some beautiful socialite. But as she got to know Danielle, his interest in her was apparent. Dani was unique. So was Gabby.

  “Let’s let the girls talk fashion for a while. I’ve got something I need to kick over with you two before we eat,” Apollo said suddenly, smiling at the wives and pointedly ignoring Joyce as he moved the men to the other side of the room.

  “Just like men,” Gabby sighed with a wistful glance at her enormous husband’s back. “We’re only afterthoughts.”

  “Someday I’ll strangle him,” Joyce was muttering to herself. “Someday I’ll kick him out the window suspended by the telephone cord and I’ll grin while I cut it.”

  “Now, now.” Danielle chuckled. “That isn’t a wholesome mental attitude.”

  Joyce’s eyes were even blacker than usual. “I hate him!” she said venomously. “That’s wholesome.”

  Gabby grinned. “He’s running scared, haven’t you noticed?” she whispered to Joyce. “He’s as nervous as a schoolboy. You intimidate him. He comes from sharecroppers down South, and your parents are well-to-do. In a different way, J.D. was much the same before we married. He seemed to hate me, and nothing I did suited him. He fought to the bitter end. Apollo is even less marriage-minded than Dutch, and Dani could write you a book on reluctant husbands. Dutch hated women!”

  “He thought he did,” Dani corrected with a loving glance at her handsome husband. “But perhaps all they really need is the incentive to become husbands and fathers.”

  Melissa nodded. “Diego is very good with Matthew, and I never even knew that he liked children in the old days in Guatemala.”

  “It must have been exciting, growing up in Central America,” Gabby remarked.

  Melissa’s eyes were soft with memories. “It was exciting living next door to Diego Laremos,” she corrected. “He was my whole world.”

  Gabby’s eyes narrowed as she studied the blond woman. “And yet the two of you were apart for a long time.”

  Melissa nodded. “It was a reluctant marriage. I left because I thought he didn’t want me anymore, and now we’re trying to pick up the pieces. It isn’t easy,” she confided.

  “He’s a good man,” Gabby said, her green eyes quiet and friendly. “He saved my life in Guatemala when J.D. and I were there trying to rescue J.D.’s sister. Under fire he’s one of the coolest characters I’ve ever seen. So are J.D. and Apollo.”

  “I suppose it’s the way they had to live,” Joyce remarked. Her eyes slid across the room to Apollo, and for one instant, everything she felt for the man was in her expression.

  Apollo chose that moment to let his attention be diverted, and he looked at the West Indian woman. The air fairly sizzled with electricity, and Joyce’s breath caught audibly before she lowered her eyes and clenched her hands in her lap.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Mrs. Albright said from the doorway in time to save Joyce from any ill-timed comments. “But dinner is served.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Albright.” Melissa smiled and went to Diego’s side, amazed at how easy it was to slip her hand into the bend of his elbow and draw him with her. “Dinner, darling,” she said softly.

  His arm tautened under her gentle touch. “In all the time we have been together,” he remarked as they went toward the elegant dining room, “I cannot remember hearing you say that word.”

  “You say it all the time,” she reminded him with a pert smile. “Or the Spanish equivalent, at least, don’t you?”

  He shrugged. “It seems to come naturally.” He pressed her hand against his sleeve, and the look he bent on her was full of affection.

  She nuzzled his shoulder with her head, loving the new sense of intimacy she felt with him.

  Behind them, the other husbands and wives exchanged expressive smiles. Bringing up the rear, Joyce was touching Apollo’s
sleeve as if it had thorns on it, and Apollo was as stiff as a man with a poker up his back.

  “Relax, will you?” Apollo muttered at Joyce.

  “You’re a fine one to talk, iron man.”

  He turned and gazed down at her. They searched each other’s eyes in a silence gone wild with new longings, with shared hunger.

  “God, don’t look at me like that,” he breathed roughly. “Not here.”

  Her lips parted on a shaky breath. “Why not?”

  He moved toward her and then abruptly moved away, jerking her along with him into the dining room. He was almost frighteningly stern.

  It was a nice dinner, but the guests—two of them at least—kept the air sizzling with tension. When they’d eaten and were enjoying after-dinner coffee from a tray in the living room, the tension got even worse.

  “You’re standing on my foot,” Joyce said suddenly, bristling at Apollo.

  “With feet that size, how is that you can even feel it?” he shot back.

  “That’s it. That’s it! You big overstuffed facsimile of a Chicago big shot, who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “A small overstuffed chili pepper with delusions of beauty,” he retorted, his eyes blazing.

  Joyce tried to speak but couldn’t. She grabbed her purse and, with a terse, tear-threatening good-night to the others, ran for the door.

  “Damn it!” Apollo went after her out the door, slamming it behind him, while the others paused to exchange conspiratorial smiles and then continue their conversation.

  When Apollo eventually came back into the apartment to say good-night, he was alone. He looked drawn and a little red on one cheek, but his friends were too kind to remark on it. He left with a rather oblivious smile, and the others said their good-nights shortly thereafter and left, too.

  The door closed, and Melissa let Diego lead her back into the living room, where there was still half a pot of hot coffee.