When he made no move to open the car door for her, she did it herself, tossing the suitcase on the back seat and sliding into the passenger seat in front. "Derek has gone somewhere with Seňor Divila."
David stood beside her uncertainly for a moment, then shut the car door and went around to the driver's side. Once behind the wheel, he made no move to start the engine. "I have a feeling there's something going on here I don't understand. Why are you returning to Mexico City without Derek?"
"We've had a… change in plans," Terri said coolly. "Now would you please drive? I don't know how many flights there are for Mexico City, but I want to be on one of them."
He started the engine, still looking at her skeptically, then drove off, his hands gripping the wheel, his expression absorbed. After several moments, he seemed to decide something in his mind and said, "There's a flight at two o'clock this afternoon. They always have a few seats open in case of emergencies. I think I can get you one of them—I know somebody."
"Thank you," said Terri, relaxing against the seat. "We can take care of that first, and then there should be time for a nice, leisurely lunch, if you'd like."
He gave her a faint smile. "I was hoping for a little more than lunch."
"Sorry, David," she said lightly. "Some other time. If you're ever in New York—"
"I know." He laughed ironically. "Give you a call sometime. You really know how to deflate a man, Terri."
"I don't mean to be rude," she said sincerely. "It's just that I have other things on my mind."
"That," he said as the car surged forward onto the highway, taking the corner with squalling speed, "I had already deduced for myself."
Chapter Ten
From the plane window Terri watched the runway rushing past and then, as the plane lifted, grow smaller and disappear. David Almedo had indeed known somebody and had managed to get her a seat on the two o'clock flight to Mexico City. After securing the reservation at about eleven that morning, they had gone for a horse-drawn carriage ride through Mérida, making several stops at places David said she simply must see before leaving.
Finally, the carriage wound slowly through the streets and stopped at a small, exclusive restaurant, which, Terri surmised from looking about, did not cater to tourists but to a certain class of Méridans—those who could afford to pay four or five hundred pesos (twenty or twenty-five dollars) for a meal. Something told her that David, as a university professor, was probably not a frequent customer and that this visit was a way of impressing her.
David ordered for both of them, the main dish consisting of chunks of succulent pork, vegetables, and mild spices wrapped in envelopes of flaky, light pastry.
"You're incredible," Terri said to him as their meal was placed before them. "You know how to get reservations on full air flights, you know about these superb little restaurants hidden away on side streets. Is there anything you don't know?"
David looked at her thoughtfully. "Yes. Why you are running away from Derek like this?"
Terri tried to pass this off lightly. "Who's running away?"
He looked grave. "Don't pretend with me, Terri." He held her gaze. "It was obvious last night that things were… tense between you. It wasn't the most propitious time for me to express an interest in your company, although I confess I did not realize that until I'd gone so far. Derek didn't like it. Did you argue after you left Salvadore and me?"
"No," she said truthfully. It was even worse than that, she thought ruefully. She and Derek seemed to have gone beyond arguing to—what? Indifference? Yes—on Derek's part, at least.
David accepted a second cup of coffee from the waitress, then said, "It was not my intention to interfere in a… relationship between you and Derek."
"There is no relationship," Terri told him. "There is a professional collaboration, and even that may end sooner than originally planned."
"So your return to Mexico City was a sudden decision. Does Derek know you have gone?"
After a long pause, Terri admitted, "No." She was beginning to regret that she hadn't at least left him a note informing him of her whereabouts. Not that he would worry about her; but he would certainly be disgruntled to find, upon his return to the guest house, that she had disappeared without a word. How long would it take him to figure out where she had gone?
"Perhaps I should let him know," David suggested, "after your plane leaves, if that is your wish. I could leave a message for him with Salvadore or the servants."
Surely he didn't think Derek would care enough to come to Mérida after her! On second thought, he might come—if only to rake her over the coals and then fire her. David's suggestion that he wait until Terri was gone to get word to Derek was the best solution. "All right," she said. "I think that would be wise." There was no point in making the situation any more trying for Derek than she had to.
After lunch they had gone directly to the airport, and as Terri looked down at the countryside far below, she knew that David would be calling the plantation any moment now.
The flight provided time for her to have second thoughts about what she was doing. Her contract was with the publisher, but Derek was in a position to make it next to impossible for her to carry out her agreement. Technically, he couldn't fire her, but he could make her resignation a foregone conclusion.
In spite of everything, she still wanted to finish the assignment. It was too important to give up without a fight. As soon as she got back to the hotel in Mexico City, she would contact Jack and Mike and plan a schedule of work for the next few days—until Derek's return, whenever that might be. There were museums within the city that she had not visited where she might find illustration possibilities. There were also ruins of the original Aztec city that were being excavated and could be reached by taxi. She might be whistling in the dark, but she would proceed as if she would be allowed to finish the project until she had official notice to the contrary.
At the Mexico City airport, she claimed her bag without any problems and took a taxi to the hotel. As soon as she was in her room, she phoned Mike and Jack's suite, reached Mike, and, cutting off all questions, arranged to meet him for an early dinner in the coffee shop. Then she bathed and dressed in the blue dress she'd worn the night she'd gone out with Jack.
As she stroked a darkening mascara on the length of her lashes, she noticed that the Mexican sun had given her skin a glowing golden tan while bleaching yellow-white streaks in her blond hair.
She sighed and stood back to survey the whole of her reflection. At least she looked composed, she thought hopefully, noticing that the blue folds gave her eyes an even bluer cast than usual. It didn't bother her that it was the same dress she had worn for her evening out with Jack, which had ended in fiasco. That evening seemed almost to have happened to another woman. Her realization that she loved Derek had given the world a new perspective. Some aspects of that world were not as lightly viewed as previously, it was true, but other things seemed of far less importance. Love— one-sided though it be—had freed her from many of her concerns for appearance and other people's opinions of her. Her love for Derek had demolished many of those inhibitions he had accused her of having; it had changed her irrevocably.
Mike came eagerly toward her as she entered the coffee shop. Bulkily built, he was dressed casually in green slacks and a yellow polyester knit shirt.
"I'm not late, am I?" she asked.
"Right on time." He smiled, taking her arm as he guided her into the room.
Seated, she scanned the menu, ordering soup and salad. Once the order was given, she could no longer avoid his curious glances.
Mike's hazel eyes held a certain suspicion that made her wary. "Would you believe," he said at last, "Jack and I haven't heard a word from Derek since he left here with you."
"There's no phone in the guest house," she said, glancing about at the other diners absently.
Mike fiddled with a fork, turning it idly between his fingers. "What gives, Terri? Why'd you come back without the
boss? What's he doing in the Yucatán alone?"
Alone, but not for long, Terri thought. Memories of a dark-haired Mexican beauty flinging herself into Derek's arms flashed vividly through her mind. The memories stabbed almost as painfully as the actual event had. She had loved Derek even then, but she hadn't yet admitted it to herself.
"Come back, Terri." Mike's voice cut through her thoughts. "You're a hundred miles away—or more. Still in the Yucatán?"
Thrusting aside the bitter memories, she smiled at him briefly. "Not so far. I wanted to discuss with you my work schedule for the next few days."
Mike glanced at her with one eyebrow raised quizzically. "Terri, I don't know what's going on. I'm not the one to advise you. I'm surprised you didn't talk this over with Derek before you left him."
The silence was unbearable. Finally, Mike asked, "Something happened between you and Derek, didn't it?" When she did not reply, he went on, "Did he send you packing?"
"No—" She. met his gaze honestly. "Not yet, anyway."
"But something did happen," he insisted. "You're different, Terri."
She lowered her eyes, flushing. "In what way?"
He placed a finger beneath her chin and raised her face to meet his look. "Sadder and wiser, maybe. In your eyes I see a kind of unhappiness that wasn't there before." He smiled encouragingly. "I've got an awfully broad shoulder if you should need one for crying."
There was something in his concerned look that touched her heart. "I—I'm not ready to talk about it—"
"Are you in love with him?"
"Yes." His sincerity would not let her evade the question.
"Then what's the problem?"
She sighed heavily as she got to her feet and reached for her purse now no longer hungry. "I wish it hadn't happened. There can't ever be anything between us. I—I guess that's the most significant thing that I learned while I was away."
"How can you know that?" he protested.
"Believe me, Mike, I know."
"Wouldn't it help to talk about it?" He was on his feet, touching her arm to detain her. "Terri, if I can help in any way—"
"No," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You're very considerate, but I'll have to work this one out for myself."
His hazel eyes were watchful. "Well, I have to say one thing. Derek's the prize idiot of all time if he can let you go."
She brushed at a strand of hair that was falling across her forehead and smiled slightly. "Thanks, Mike. You're a good, gallant friend."
"Only coming from me it doesn't help a whole lot. Right?"
She nodded and his hand touched hers briefly as she turned away, but it was enough to convey his honest desire to help. She murmured a goodbye and returned to the lobby just as the elevator was disgorging a group of laughing tourists. As she entered the empty elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor, she wondered bleakly why she couldn't have fallen in love with someone like Mike, who, she sensed, would be constant and true.
Terri spent the next morning at the Aztec ruins, which were a few miles from the hotel. Before getting into a taxi, she had picked up the film waiting for her at the photographic shop and was pleased with many of the shots she had managed to get. She used two full rolls of film at the archaeological site where excavation had only recently begun. For lunch she grabbed a sandwich at a nearby cafe and took a taxi to a small museum afterward.
It was early evening when she returned to the hotel. After the long, very active day, her slacks and knit shirt were rumpled and rather the worse for wear. She hesitated in the lobby, trying to decide whether to go up and change before having dinner. But if she did that, she would probably not have enough energy left to come back down to eat. She shrugged tiredly; she would eat before going up. Then she wouldn't have to leave her room again.
She was standing in the doorway of the dining room, glancing about for an empty table, when she heard Mike calling her name. She turned in the direction from which the sound was coming. Mike was seated at a table in the corner, his long arm waving to get her attention.
She smiled, hitching her camera bag onto one shoulder along with the strap of her purse, and started for Mike's table. She had already taken several steps before she recognized Mike's table companion, who sat in the dimly lighted corner.
A dark head turned to watch her approach with an expression that could have covered anything from total disinterest to cold fury. It was Derek, wearing a gray suit with white shirt and a gray-and-blue striped tie. He looked as if he'd just stepped from his room, ready for the day, not the least bit wrinkled or disarranged. She was reminded suddenly of the first time she ever saw him—at the airport upon her arrival in Mexico City. He had that same casually disinterested look. But this was not the same. Now she knew much more about the man behind the mask.
Terri's heart slammed against her ribs—like a bird in a cage, she thought with a feeling of pure panic—but it was too late to turn back now. By the time she reached the table, Mike was on his feet pulling out a chair for her.
"Thank you, Mike," she murmured, carefully arranging her camera bag and purse on the floor beside her chair. But she could not stay bent over with her head below the table indefinitely. Much too soon she had to sit up and face Derek.
When she did, Mike said, "Derek just got in. I ran into him in the lobby." He looked from Terri to Derek expectantly.
There was a long pause as Derek flung an arm over the back of his chair and gazed at Terri. "Mike tells me you've been out getting more photographs." There was hardly any intonation in the words—no warmth or interest at all. Terri might as well have been a complete stranger and her activities totally unrelated to Derek.
"Yes—" She found that she felt breathless and paused to inhale slowly in an effort to steady her voice. "I went to that new excavation of Aztec ruins this morning—and then to a little museum."
There was another long pause as Derek lifted his water glass and drank with what seemed deliberate slowness. The waitress came and took their orders, and then silence descended on the table once more. Mike was clearly uncomfortable; he fidgeted in his chair, fiddled with his silverware, and accidentally tipped his water glass, catching it just in time to prevent emptying it on the white table cloth.
Terri felt compelled to say something. "I picked up more film and contact sheets from the photographic shop today. There are some really good shots." She tossed the statement out indiscriminately, not looking directly at either of the men. When she did glance at Derek, he gave a slight nod that could have meant almost anything. Terri picked up her water glass, discovered her hand was shaking, and instantly put it down again.
She glanced back to Derek's hard face. "D-did Seňor Divila return to the city with you?"
"He left on an earlier flight," Derek said.
Terri chewed on her bottom lip, pushing back the other questions that were clamoring to be asked. Why had he left the plantation so soon? Had Margarite decided not to join him there after all? Had the location for their rendezvous been changed to Mexico City? Was Divila's advance arrival in preparation for the reconciliation between Derek and Margarite? She was suddenly aware that Mike was speaking and pulled her thoughts away from unaskable questions.
"Terri hasn't told me much about your trip to the Yucatán, Derek. Did you accomplish a lot?"
Derek's glance flicked over Terri's golden-tanned face and the uncombed tangle of sun-streaked waves framing it. "Not as much as I had hoped."
What did that mean? Terri wondered. That he had not managed to get her into bed? Or that she'd disappointed him as a photographer? His aloof manner made her more and more certain that he was going to tell her he no longer required her professional services. She was so sure of it that she almost wished he'd say it and get it over with. That, at least, would give her a subject for discussion. As it was, she had the unnerving feeling that whatever she said would be the wrong thing.
After their meal arrived, Mike launched into a rundown of the work he had accomplis
hed in Derek's absence. Terri remained gratefully silent and concentrated on eating, which had become something of an ordeal, since her appetite had disappeared with her first sight of Derek. Nor did Mike's occasional furtive glances at her help her feel any more comfortable. In fact, Derek appeared to be the only one of the three who was totally at ease, even though Mike was doing most of the talking.
Terri was wondering how she might slip away from the table unnoticed when Derek shoved his chair back and said, "Excuse me. I want to take my luggage upstairs."
Terri watched his retreating figure with a long exhalation of breath.
"Man!" Mike exclaimed. "Something is stuck in his craw, that's for sure."
"What?" Terri turned from watching Derek's retreat to Mike's intent gaze. "I thought he seemed—relaxed."
Mike shook his head emphatically. "No way. Oh, he wanted to appear calm, but I've been with him too long to be fooled. I've seen that look before."
Terri experienced the stirring uneasiness within her. She ought to be relieved that Derek had left the table without forcing confrontation about her unscheduled departure from the guest house, but Mike's words warned her that there was far more behind that expressionless face than she had thought. She had only been given a reprieve until Derek had her alone. A feeling of impending doom fell over her as she forced herself to bend and pick up her case and purse.
"Hey, what're you doing?" Mike inquired, a note of puzzlement in the tone. "You've hardly touched your food."
Straightening, she got to her feet. "I'm not very hungry. I'm going up to my room."
Mike's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "To face the music?"
"Maybe that, too," she admitted ruefully.
"I'll get the check," Mike offered, as if it was the only thing he could think of at the moment to do for her.
Terri went to her room feeling as if she were walking the last mile. It was too much to hope that Derek wouldn't want an accounting—probably tonight. Unless—she experienced a brief ray of hope—he intended seeing Margarite right away.
Mexican Nights Page 15
