A waiter appeared and David asked, "What will you have to drink?"
"White wine," Terri said.
"Whiskey," Derek said briefly, settling into his chair, his dark arm resting lightly on the white tablecloth.
David ordered a bottle of wine and whiskeys for himself and Derek. Then he turned to Terri, his long dark lashes half-lowered over the sparkling eyes. She was aware of Derek's long stare as she met David's look. "I eat here frequently," David said to Terri, "and I heartily recommend the Poc-chuc or the Pollo Asado Casero."
Terri smiled, beginning to enjoy the harmless flirtation. "Translate, please."
David grinned. "Pork grilled with tomato and onion—and chicken roasted with achiote, vinegar, and other spices."
"I'll have the chicken," Terri said.
Derek and David ordered Poc-chuc and the waiter left to return shortly with their drinks.
David tilted his glass, smiling at Terri. "To new acquaintances."
Rather nervous under his appraising look, she looked about the small space again. "I didn't see many of these private tables. You must have influence."
"I do," he said unabashedly. "As I said, I dine here frequently, often with guests."
"David is being modest," Derek said rather tartly. "He is well known all over Mexico for his work and—other things."
Across the table, Terri looked at him with impatience. How could he be so rude to an associate, particularly one who was apparently as important as David Almedo? His eyes met her accusing glance wryly.
"Not as well known as Derek is in your country, I'm sure," David said with a trace of irritation.
Derek swallowed the rest of his whiskey and set the glass down with a thump. "Excuse me for a minute." He stood and moved around the pot of greenery, striding across the dining room toward the lounge area.
Conscious of people all around and Derek's imminent return, which assured that things wouldn't get out of hand, Terri smiled into David's dark eyes. "Tell me about the dig your students are working on."
"Merely another pyramid," he said, shrugging. "Have you known Derek long?"
"Only since our arrival in Mexico at the first of the month." He questioned her about her work and seemed genuinely interested in her replies. They talked about the world of the free-lance photographer and then about David's work until Terri said, "Archaeology sounds quite fascinating!"
He gave her a teasing smile. "I am a fascinating man, and I really think you owe it to yourself to get to know me better. I'll take you out to the dig, if you want." The shrewd brown eyes assessed her. "But I don't imagine Derek would like that."
She laughed rather uneasily. "He has my time pretty well booked up, I'm afraid." The intelligent eyes continued to size her up intently. Surely women pursued him constantly. "I'll have to see how things go in the next few days. I'm certain you won't want for feminine companionship, though. You're an extremely charming man, David, as you well know." The last was said thoughtfully, with no intention to flirt.
He smiled, leaning closer to toy with a wayward lock of her blond hair. "As they say in your country, seňorita, you are no slouch yourself."
Behind her, she heard Derek enter the alcove, and David sat straight, while Terri pushed her falling hair back with one hand. "I see you haven't missed me," he said thinly.
"We managed to pass the time," said David lightly.
The waiter appeared a few seconds later with their meal. The food was excellent, superbly cooked. Terri rather belatedly realized that every time she looked away David refilled her wine glass. He carried on a sparkling conversation over dinner, talking about a recent trip to some archaeological zones in Guatemala. "Have you visited that country?" he asked Terri.
When she said that she had not, he went on, "But you must. How can you complete your photographs of the Maya civilization without going there?"
"We'll have to work it in, of course," Derek said, and Terri glanced at him in surprise. It was the first she had heard that Guatemala was a part of their schedule, although she had wondered if Derek had employed another photographer for the sites there.
David continued to direct most of the conversation to Terri throughout dinner. Finally, their meal finished, he excused himself to find a waiter to bring them some coffee. Terri had a strong desire to get back to the guest house so she could crawl into bed. The wine had made her drowsy, and the alcove was beginning to feel stuffy. Alone with Derek, she rested an elbow on the table, cupping her chin in her hand, her eyelids drooping.
"You seem to be having a good time," Derek said sardonically.
Forcing her eyes open, she looked at him sleepily. "David is a charming dinner companion."
"So I've noticed," he said bitingly. "Perhaps I should quietly steal away into the night and leave the two of you alone."
She gazed at him. "What are you talking about?"
"You've been giving him the come-on ever since you laid eyes on him. I'm sure he'd be delighted to have you all to himself. There is a very nice motel just down the road."
She felt her temper rising. "You're disgusting! He's your friend. I was just trying to be nice to him. Of course, you would try to turn that into something sordid."
David swept back into the room, followed by the waiter, before Derek could reply. The waiter poured hot coffee into three cups and disappeared again.
Grateful for the diversion, Terri kept her eyes lowered as she lifted her cup and sipped slowly. Seemingly unaware of the tension at the table, David engaged Derek in conversation about some as yet unexcavated Mayan sites in other areas of the Yucatán. Derek's tight-faced look slipped away as his interest in what David was saying increased. Terri remained happily in the background, drinking her coffee in the hope that it would help her to stay awake.
Finally, Derek said, "We're in your debt for allowing us to share your table, David." He reached for his wallet, but David shook his head.
"I've already taken care of the check." Following Derek's example, he got to his feet. "Will I be seeing you again while you're here?"
"I'll come by the university if I'm in Mérida," Derek said noncommittally.
David slanted a wicked glance at Terri. "Make him bring you along next time. I'll show you around town."
Derek's sullen look had returned. "Terri would love that, I'm sure. We've a lot of work to do, but if we can find the time I'll call you."
Terri stood beside Derek, looking up into David's smiling face. "Good," David said.
Abruptly, Derek walked from the alcove, and, as Terri moved to follow him, David took hold of her arm. "Seňorita," he said softly, "are you and Derek lovers?"
She flushed furiously. "No!"
He seemed to relax and said with satisfaction, "That's nice to know. From the way he was acting, I thought—"
Terri brushed past him quickly, saying good night, and caught up with Derek near the entrance doors. David had stopped to talk to the young girl at the cash register, who was gazing at him with adoring eyes. Lounging against the high counter, he waved to them as they left the restaurant.
Derek swung the car back onto the road with spinning tires. He drove in silence, his face unreadable in the dark interior of the car. Terri held herself in an alert sort of readiness beside him, expecting more stinging remarks. His behavior all evening had been puzzling. After treating her practically like a stranger all day, he had seemed angered by the immediate rapport that had sprung up between her and David Almedo. Could he possibly be jealous? Yet he had made it clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her, except the contact necessary to finish this job. His cutting words in the restaurant, however, seemed to indicate that he wasn't quite as disinterested as he had led her to believe. This thought disturbed her, and she wished they had not run into David Almedo.
When they arrived at the guest house, she got out of the car quickly before Derek had a chance to come around and assist her. He walked ahead of her, jangling his keys, and remained silent as he opened the door and precede
d her inside, turning on the nearest table lamp.
Angrily, she moved past him and went into the kitchen for a drink of water. She sipped slowly, her head still feeling heavy from the wine she had drunk. She stared at the gleaming sink, remembering the times that Derek had touched her—that night in the hotel room in Mexico City when he had undressed her and put her to bed, when he had forced her to be aware of his masculine desire and had so skillfully brought her answering passion to the surface.
She emptied the glass and set it on the cabinet, closing her eyes as she leaned against the sink. She was so involved in her thoughts that she did not know that Derek had entered the kitchen until he was right behind her. Then she spun, eyes wide. The dark eyes moved probingly over her, taking in the beginning of her cleavage in the V of her halter.
Shaking her head, more in denial of his inspection than to toss back the falling waves of her hair, she said, "I—I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed."
He stepped into her path wordlessly as she moved to walk by him. The brooding darkness of his eyes held her gaze. She struggled to assert her common sense, to reaffirm her will, but the helpless longing that he awoke in her had been pushed down for too long. She felt the rise of desire like warm water rushing through her body.
Unable to evade his devastating look, she stood unresistingly as he lowered his face toward her. "I've been wanting to do this all evening," he said gruffly, his mouth closing over her lips.
Over the dizzying flood of her emotions, Terri was aware of a feeling of triumphant exhilaration because only yesterday he had vowed not to touch her again until she begged for it. Her arms went around his neck, and she returned his kiss desperately, her slender body trembling in his arms. He broke off the kiss to say roughly, "All evening I watched you smile and flirt with David Almedo."
Looking up at him through her lashes, her heart thudding at the dark jealousy in his face and voice, she said, "I didn't think you'd care. You said last night that you were through with me. All day you acted as if you could hardly tolerate my company."
Staring at her with angry savagery, he said, "So you deliberately encouraged David." Dark fire flamed in his eyes. "To get back at me. You knew I didn't like what was happening."
"I was only being friendly to him," she retorted, flushing with indignation at his accusation. "Did you want me to be rude? You've said you want me to learn more about Mexican civilizations. What better teacher could I have than David Almedo?"
He tensed and stared down into her eyes. "He could teach you plenty, all right—and not about Mexican civilizations."
Terri felt a tremor of fear as the threat in his eyes deepened, but she would not allow him to convict her of impropriety. The very idea of Derek accusing her of flirting! "Maybe I should let him," she said bitterly.
Abruptly, she was crushed against him and his mouth took her lips with savage ferocity. Imprisoned by the hard steel of his arms, she struggled to free herself, only succeeding in causing him to crush her lips against her teeth until she tasted a trace of her own blood. Her twisting and turning ceased, as all desire to fight him drained out of her. She could not defeat her own body as it slowly came to sensuous life under his assault. Waves of dizziness mounted dangerously in her head—desire added to the wine. Gradually, Derek's kiss became more gentle, seductive. With a moan of defeat, her lips parted, and his tongue touched the soft interior of her mouth.
"I—I hurt you," he whispered against her lips. "I didn't mean to, but you shouldn't make me so angry."
"Oh, Derek," she cried, her voice catching, "it was your own jealousy that did that."
He lifted his head, his eyes burning down at her. "Does that make you happy? I've rarely felt that emotion. I've always thought it was beneath me. But tonight I actually hated my old friend. You will not see him again."
"You're not my lord and master, Derek," she said dryly.
He looked at her, rage hardening his eyes, then, with a groan, he gripped her arms and set her away from him. "If you continue to parade yourself in clothes like that, I will know you are issuing a challenge. I never resist a challenge, Terri, so be warned. You'll get whatever you ask for."
His hands dropped away, and she stood there, feeling alone and empty, and glared up at him. "I'll wear exactly what I wish, Derek! If you choose to consider my clothing some kind of cheap invitation, that's your problem! And you be warned. Don't look for excuses to do what you've been wanting to do all along!"
She watched the dark color flush up under his skin. His nostrils flared in anger. She met his furious gaze without flinching. It was, she thought dazedly, easier to face his rage than his tenderness. Even as she issued her indignant retort, she wanted him.
He suddenly swore, turned on his heel, and strode out of the kitchen. Seconds later, she heard the front door slam. She was shivering from reaction as she walked slowly toward her bedroom, and her whole body ached with—what? Desire, yes—but more. Much more.
With a strangled little cry, her hand came up to cover her bruised mouth. It was love that she felt—it could be nothing else. Heaven help her, she had fallen in love with Derek Storm.
Chapter Eight
Derek was shut in his bedroom most of the next day with his typewriter. Terri used the time to study the contact sheets and mark those that, when enlarged, would make appropriate illustrations for Derek's books. Since Derek was fully occupied, she cooked all three meals and cleaned up after they had eaten. It served to help take her mind off more disturbing thoughts, and, further, she did not feel up to arguing with Derek about equal division of the household labor. After dinner, however, he surprised her by announcing they were going out.
"I promised to take you to see one of the Mayan villages near here. There's one about ten miles to the south. What do you say?"
More than ready to get out of the house after a day spent reading with the steady tapping of Derek's typewriter in the background, she said, "Yes, I'd like that very much. Give me a minute, and I'll be ready."
She went into her bedroom, where she applied a light film of makeup to her peeling nose and brushed her hair. She sighed and gazed into her face—gray-blue eyes with their fringes of sooty lashes, delicately sculptured cheekbones and chin, a nose that was pertly uptilted and, beneath the makeup she had just applied, peeling lips that softened and curved into a sad smile as she remembered Derek's hard face, rigid as he had issued his threat to give her exactly what she asked for.
In spite of her verbal defiance in reply to Derek's insults about her attire, she had not worn shorts or halter today. She might have been brave in her anger, but when the anger was gone she had reflected upon Derek's warning and had decided she wouldn't chance another blatant challenge in the matter of her clothing. Derek had been furious enough that night to—what? Rape her? Well… no…
With the fingers of her right hand she touched her lips lightly, feeling a sort of glow on them as she remembered Derek's kisses. No, it would not be rape, she thought with candor. When Derek touched her, her betraying body was an all-too-willing participant in love.
She ran slender hands over her knit shirt and cotton slacks to smooth out the wrinkles. She couldn't help noticing that, although she was adequately covered, the clinging cotton outlined the curves of her breasts and hips and hugged her narrow waist in a way that left little doubt about the alluring shape of the body beneath the clothing.
Suddenly, she heard Derek calling impatiently from the sitting room and hurried to join him, thinking that she had better try to keep him in his seemingly more amiable mood or he would decide not to take her to the village; and she thought she would scream if she didn't get out of the house for a while.
There was little conversation during the short drive to the village, but, still, Terri imagined that the atmosphere in the car was more relaxed than it had been the last few days—almost as if Derek had decided to stop blaming her—whatever it was he had been blaming her for—and be friends instead of sworn enemies. With a friend like Derek
, Terri thought with wry amusement, she certainly didn't need any enemies. She particularly didn't need Derek as an enemy, and she welcomed his easier manner gratefully.
They parked next to a plaza paved with square stone blocks with straggly tufts of rain-starved grass sticking up in the spaces between the stones. They strolled across the plaza to browse in the small shops facing the church. Several of the shops were still open after having been closed for the three-hour siesta in the afternoon. There were few tourist baubles here, for although many tour buses passed through on the way to the archaeological sites, few of them stopped in such small villages. These were truly native establishments with no pretensions to anything else and small inventories of little more than basic necessities.
The few natives who were on the street and in the shops appeared to be shorter and darker than most of the Mexicans Terri had seen in the cities, with broader, flatter features. When she mentioned this to Derek, he said these were pure Mayan characteristics, while Mexicans seen in the metropolitan areas were of mixed Indian and Spanish blood, often more Spanish than Indian.
Terri and Derek were the objects of curious appraisal by the villagers they passed, and several of them stopped Derek with smiles and friendly greetings. After Derek had been engaged in conversation in lively Spanish for the third time, Terri observed, "They act as if they know you."
"I've been here several times doing research," he told her. "After they got over their innate suspicion of foreigners, several of them invited me into their homes. I have a notebook full of stories and legends that were handed down in some of these families."
They were interrupted then by another villager, who wrung Derek's hand and released a spate of animated Spanish. Terri moved a few feet away to glance at dirt-speckled windows. Then she turned to watch Derek and the villager, who had now been joined by a second native. She envied the easy flow of Derek's Spanish and was a little surprised at how at home with these people he seemed. The world-famous writer might have been just another villager, except that he towered head and shoulders over all of them. It was obvious that he liked, even respected, these simple, uneducated people; this was a side to Derek's character that Terri had not seen before.
Mexican Nights Page 11
