Mexican Nights

by Jeanne Stephens

  Terri set her jaw stubbornly. "I told you, I'm not fixing breakfast. I wouldn't cook a meal for you if you beat me!"

  "Don't give me any ideas," he retorted darkly.

  Rigid with outrage, she brushed past him. "I have to get some fresh air." She ran across the sitting room and out the front door.

  Behind her, Derek called, "Come back here, Terri! What's gotten into you?" A moment later, she heard his footsteps on the gravel. He soon caught up with her and spun her about to face him.

  The tears that had been threatening in the kitchen were beginning to slide down her cheeks. He sighed, this time raking both hands through his hair. "Look, I think you got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Maybe we both did. Let's try to start the day over."

  "I don't want to start anything over with you, Derek," she flared.

  His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he looked heavenward, clearly near the end of his patience. "Why are you acting like this?"

  "Do I have to draw you a picture? I was sitting right there in the room when Salvadore Divila said he was bringing Margarite Lopez back with him from Mexico City. Are you going to stand there and deny it?"

  He looked at her, his head to one side. "No, of course not."

  She thrust her chin forward. "Well, if you think I'm going to stay on the same plantation with you and—and that woman, you're crazy!"

  He stared at her for a long moment, and then he threw his head back and laughed. "So that's what this is all about. Terri, will you grow up? Margarite won't interfere with us that much. She'll be staying in the main house, and—"

  "And that's supposed to make it all right!" Terri sputtered, almost choking on the words. "She won't interfere! I can't believe this, Derek! Is this some kind of cheap thrill for you or what?"

  "Terri—" He reached out for her, but she spun away from him.

  "Keep your hands off me!" A bitter sob escaped her. "I hate you!"

  He glared down at her, fire in his eyes and fury in his stance. "Come back to the guest house and clean up." His tone was cold, implacable. "And don't try to run away again," Derek went on, a relentless note in his voice. "If you do, I'll carry you back and lock you up—if I have to."

  It's hopeless, Terri thought, her body sagging. This whole situation—everything—is hopeless. Eyes averted, she walked past Derek and returned to the guest house. He stayed at her heels all the way, but neither of them said a word.

  Terri went straight to her room. She would have liked to lock herself in the bedroom, but that would only postpone the inevitable. She had to face Derek and try to be civil enough to finish the work here. She went back to the sitting room and heard him running water in the kitchen. Evidently he had made his own breakfast and was now washing the dishes. Momentarily, he came into the sitting room, carrying a large mug.

  "Coffee—for you," he said matter-of-factly, as he set the mug down on the coffee table.

  "Thank you," Terri replied, with what she hoped was an impersonal tone. "I'd like to finish reading the Maya manuscript if you don't mind."

  He nodded and went into his bedroom, returning with a thick stack of pages, which he handed to her. "That should keep you occupied all morning while I do some writing in the bedroom."

  She carried the manuscript and coffee to the corner table and sat down. With no further glance at Derek, she found the place where she'd stopped reading the last time and bent over the typed page.

  Derek cleared his throat. "We're invited to have dinner with Salvadore at the main house this evening."

  Terri looked up, disconcerted. She couldn't imagine anything more trying to her nerves than having to spend the evening with Derek and his friend. "I—I'd rather not. I don't feel like—"

  "Terri," Derek cut in, "it would be extremely rude if you refused, after Salvadore's generous hospitality."

  He was right, of course, but that didn't make her look forward to the evening with any less dread. "All right," she muttered crossly, "I'll go."

  "Good," he said.

  She returned to the manuscript, and, after a moment during which Terri felt his eyes on her, Derek went back into his bedroom and closed the door. A few minutes later she heard the steady tapping of his typewriter.

  The morning seemed interminable to Terri. She finished the Aztec manuscript and, her anger having been gradually transformed into a dreary depression, she retreated from her vow not to cook for Derek and fixed lunch. It was something to do. In the afternoon they went to two lesser known Mayan sites in the area so Terri could get more photographs. What conversation there was between them was stilted and strained.

  Back at the guest house, Terri showered and dressed for dinner at the main house. She had brought only one dress—her green crepe—and she wore it with high-heeled bone-colored sandals and the barest trace of makeup.

  Wordlessly, she accompanied Derek to the main house. His beige knit trousers and body-hugging brown silk shirt emphasized his lean muscular body and deep tan, making Terri aware of him in a way that she did not want. She avoided looking at him as they walked along the graveled drive to the front of the house and across the veranda to the massive door adorned by heavy wrought-iron grillwork. They were met by a Mexican houseboy whom Terri had not seen before; obviously the vacationing servants had also returned.

  They entered a pillared corridor, where several oil paintings in rich, deep colors lined the walls and, hanging overhead, lanterns reflected in a tiled floor covered with arabesqued patterns. The houseboy showed them through an arching doorway into a room of gracious proportions, where shaded lamps cast a soft glow over dark Spanish-style antiques, deep velvet chairs and couches, and lacy ironwork at the windows from which heavy brocaded draperies were drawn back with thick, tassled silken ropes.

  From a speaker built into a wall, the subdued sound of flamenco music floated into the room, its beat communicating to Terri a nostalgic sadness that seemed to match the dull beating of her heart.

  Salvadore Divila, in a white linen suit with an open-necked black shirt, was standing beside a glass-topped table having a glass of wine with a third guest—David Almedo.

  David smiled when he saw the newcomers and strode toward them. Because she was looking for it, Terri caught the slight tightening which touched Derek's lips briefly and then was gone. It was fairly clear that David's presence was a surprise to him, and not a particularly welcome one.

  David had reached Terri's side and, taking her hand, drew her into the room. "How wonderful to see you again, Terri."

  She found herself seated on a velvet couch with David next to her. Salvadore Divila spoke to Derek, who was still standing in the doorway. "After I left you this morning, it occurred to me that, since David is an old friend and associate of yours, he might honor us with his presence at dinner. As you see, he has taken the time from a busy schedule to join us."

  "I'm flattered," said Derek rather dryly. The slight undertone of mockery seemed lost on Divila.

  Then their host poured wine into two glasses from a crystal decanter and brought them to Derek and Terri. When Terri murmured, "Thank you, Seňor Divila," he insisted, "You must call me Salvadore so that the four of us will feel comfortable together. David tells me that he has already had the pleasure of meeting you."

  Terri nodded and sipped her wine. Derek sat on the edge of a velvet chair that faced the couch, eyeing David and Terri watchfully as if he intended to spring at any moment.

  "This is nice," David said. He was half-turned toward Terri, his long arm resting along the back of the couch where she sat, but his look took in Derek as well. "I've been looking forward to spending the evening with the two of you ever since Salvadore's phone call earlier today."

  Terri glanced at Derek, who surveyed her unsmilingly. "Thank you, David," Derek said pleasantly, but his expression was far from pleasant. "I am afraid it will have to be an early evening. Terri has been working very hard."

  "Ah," said David, leaning toward Terri, "you shouldn't allow Derek t
o turn you into a—what do they call it in your country?—a workaholic? You should derive some enjoyment from your stay here."

  Terri smiled at him. "My sentiments exactly. This is my first trip to the Yucatán, you know."

  "All the more reason for you to get out more," he said, uncaring of Derek's listening presence. "As I told you before, I'm available as a guide whenever you wish."

  She pursed her lips, as if she were thinking over his proposal. Under other circumstances she would have made it immediately clear that she couldn't spend any time with him, fearing that any hesitation on her part might encourage him to launch a pursuit. But now she knew that she was behaving in a way that might be taken as flirtatious. Her realization that she loved Derek and the simultaneous knowledge that he seemed to prefer Margarite Lopez prompted her to act uncharacteristically uninhibited. She had never known that she could be a vengeful woman, but Derek's clear disapproval caused a devilish satisfaction to bubble inside her chest, and a smile of delight curved her mouth.

  Encouraged by her reaction, David went on, "Are you free tomorrow?"

  Derek moved restlessly. "Tomorrow is—"

  Terri cut in quickly, "Thank you, David. I'll have to let you know later." The look she sent Derek was coldly haughty.

  At that moment the houseboy appeared in the arching doorway with a nod for Divila, who had been standing beside the wine decanter watching the interchange among his three guests with a slightly puzzled expression.

  "Dinner is ready," Divila announced. "Shall we go into the dining room?" He walked to the couch and bowed graciously. "Seňorita?"

  Terri accepted his arm and they walked toward the adjoining dining room, where grilled iron doors were swung back.

  For one brief moment, Terri had a bewildering sense of being lost in a dream. The dining table was oval and attractively set with lace and silver and crystal stemware. The rather understated opulence of the room, the house, the entire plantation seemed almost too much to be real, and she had a sudden desire to be back in New York in the safe, close confines of her three-room apartment, where life was busy, but uncluttered by dark undercurrents and too-strong emotions. Yet somehow she knew that she could never go back to that old life—not all the way back to her former optimistic innocence. Because, against all reason and common sense, she had fallen in love with Derek, nothing would ever be the same again. That other life now seemed as intangible as a very old memory whose outlines had shifted and blurred.

  During dinner David entertained them with tales of his life at various archaeological digs, the often monotonous labor never entirely free of an underlying excitement because at any moment some important artifact might be uncovered.

  Derek, obviously wanting to focus the conversation on something besides David and his work, questioned Divila about the growing Mexican indoor-outdoor carpeting industry, where more than half the plantation's sisal was now being utilized. Divila's account of the experiments the government was making in new ways to use sisal intrigued his guests and kept them interested through the remainder of the meal.

  They drank their coffee at leisure in the sitting room where they'd had wine before dinner. David took a chair beside Derek in one corner and, sensing belatedly that he'd somehow angered his old friend, managed to draw him out about his books in progress.

  This left Terri seated with Divila on the couch. "Derek seems tired," he said quietly, eyeing her over the rim of his coffee cup. "I imagine he is working very hard on the books."

  "Yes," agreed Terri, letting her face show no expression except polite attention.

  "How long have you known him?" Terri sensed there was more than passing interest in the question.

  "A few weeks," she replied.

  He refilled his coffee cup from the pot one of the maids had left on the low table next to the couch. "I thought as much, since I hadn't heard him mention you in the past." He smiled. "I'm certain he would not have failed to mention such a charming acquaintance."

  "There would have been no reason for him to refer to a mere business associate in any case," Terri returned coolly.

  "Oh?" There was a world of curiosity in that one word, and the dark eyes were probing. "I had an idea the two of you might be more than… business associates."

  Her arched brows lifted. "I can't imagine where you got an idea like that." She was beginning to resent his more-than-casual interest and the rather blunt questions, for she suspected he had reasons of his own for feeling her out. Undoubtedly, he was acting as Margarite Lopez's envoy in this and would inform the beautiful actress of whatever tidbits he could gather about Derek and his photographer.

  She was relieved when David sauntered over to the couch. "May I have a word with Terri?" he asked Divila boldly.

  Their suave host relinquished his seat gracefully and went across the room to join Derek.

  David sat down and gave her a mischievous grin. "Have you decided to risk an outing with the infamous Dr. Almedo?"

  She smiled at him. Despite his aggressive masculinity, there was a good deal of the little boy in him, and she felt surprisingly easy in his company. He came on very strong with women, tossing out innuendoes indiscriminately, but she was coming to believe that there was no real need for apprehension about being alone with him. "I'd like to see you tomorrow," she heard herself saying. "Could you pick me up about ten?"

  He laughed. "When you make up your mind, you're very straightforward, aren't you? A rare quality in a woman, and I like it. But what about Derek? Will he be coming with us?"

  "I don't think so," she said.

  David's laugh had elicited a cold, sideways look from Derek. Now he got to his feet and walked over to the couch. "Terri and I have to go now," he said crisply. "We'll be very busy the next few days winding things up here."

  David shot Terri an amused glance, but said nothing. She thanked Divila for dinner and accompanied Derek back to the guest house, wondering how to broach the subject of her appointment with David for the next morning.

  Once there, he turned to her stiffly. "That was a rather disgusting display with David this evening."

  She shrugged. "I don't know what you mean. David is easy to talk to and rather sweet, don't you think?"

  "Sweet?" His voice held distaste. "That's not the word I would use to describe him. And he's interested in a lot more than easy conversation with you."

  Her cheeks grew warm. After a pause, she said, "You're always telling me to grow up. Perhaps I should start by learning to handle the David Almedos of this world."

  He made a sound of disgust. "I wouldn't recommend starting with this particular one. I doubt that you have enough experience yet to handle him."

  "David is capable of having a—a friendship with a woman, I'm sure," she said indignantly.

  Derek laughed shortly. "Do you think he doesn't know I'd like to take you to bed? In fact, he probably suspects I've already done it."

  "No, he doesn't—" Her voice halted in embarrassment. "I—I set him straight about that at our first meeting."

  His dark brows lifted sardonically. "I see. Quite a cozy little chat the two of you had while I was absent from the table. But let me tell you something. Competition only whets David's sexual appetite."

  She stared at him. "Nevertheless, he's not some barbaric caveman. He respects me." Even as she said the words, she knew that they were deliberately provocative.

  Derek's hands clenched, then were thrust, into his trousers pockets. He walked to a window and stared out at the night broodingly. "Salvadore wants to take me on a tour of the plantation tomorrow morning. I'll probably be gone until afternoon. No doubt you will welcome my absence."

  It was a second before the words penetrated and Terri felt a wave of relief because she wouldn't have to tell Derek that she was going out with David. He could find out about it after the fact. "I'll keep busy," she said briefly. "I'm going to my room now. Good night."

  He continued to stare out the window and did not reply. Her depression of earlier
in the evening was returning. She went to her bedroom and closed the door. Then, slipping off her shoes, she lay across the bed, her head turned so that she could see the stars in the night sky through the window.

  They were going to be busy the next few days, Derek had said earlier. Only now did the irony of those words descend on Terri. Margarite Lopez would be arriving soon; Divila was going after her tomorrow. Oh, yes, Derek would be busy, but not working. He would probably expect Terri to do whatever was involved in "winding things up," while he concentrated on keeping Margarite happy.

  Angry resentment caused her to sit up abruptly, shaking her head in the darkened bedroom. Oh, no, Derek—no way!

  She got to her feet and slowly undressed, a plan beginning to form in her mind. She wouldn't stay around to be humiliated further. She would go back to Mexico City before Margarite arrived. She would insist that Derek drive her to the airport, but even as this thought took shape, she discarded it. Somehow she knew that Derek would refuse to let her go.

  Well, she would just have to go without his approval—when he wasn't around to stop her. Then she remembered that Derek would be away from the guest house with Divila the next morning. She would pack her bag and take it with her when David came to pick her up. She felt certain she could talk David into driving her to the airport.

  This, in fact, turned out to be almost as easy as she had hoped. When she opened the door to David's knock the next morning, her suitcase in hand, he gave her a very disconcerted look. "I know I'm irresistible," he said with a teasing grin, "but I've never had a woman meet me with a suitcase on the first date."

  "This has nothing to do with you," Terri told him briskly as she stepped out, pulling the door shut behind her.

  "Ah." He shook his head ruefully. "I was afraid of that."

  "I want you to take me to the Mérida airport so I can get on a flight to Mexico City."

  She walked toward the car and David was forced to follow her to continue the conversation. "What's going on, Terri? Where's Derek?"