The Bride Tamer

by Ann Major

Twelve

  Isabela pressed the file against her chest. “If I cut out my heart, would that make you happy?”

  “I’m sorry! I love you!”

  “Sorry? Is that all you can say?” Isabela raised the file high.

  When Vivian screamed and ran toward her, Isabela stabbed at her pillows instead of her chest. She brought the file down again and again until feathers spurted out like flurries of snow.

  She plunged her file into the pillow still again. “I wish I had the courage to kill myself. I do.” She lifted the torn pillowcase and waved it back and forth, sending more feathers flying.

  Vivian’s mouth went dry. “I feel like such a louse.”

  Isabela shredded the pillowcase, releasing the last of the feathers. “I was so worried and scared when you two didn’t come home last night. I tried to call you—dozens and dozens of times.”

  “I know.”

  Drifting feathers settled in Isabela’s black hair. One landed on the tip of her nose, and she sneezed and fanned it away. “Then I’d get paranoid and imagine you and he kissing, betraying me…but I’d tell myself those were crazy thoughts because I’ve got too much hot, Latin blood. One minute I was furious, the next I was terrified. I didn’t sleep a wink.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Quit saying that. Do you think I want your pity? You were both probably laughing at me.”

  “No,” Vivian said tenderly.

  Isabela flung the nail file across the room and grabbed another pillow, hugging it to her breast. “I can’t believe you’re actually telling me all this—”

  “You deserve the truth.”

  “Deserve? This isn’t what I deserve. I did everything for you—”

  “I know. You were wonderful.”

  “No Mexican would ever confess to such, for fear of being stabbed or something. Why are you standing there? Watching me? Laughing at me? Why don’t you go and leave me?”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose. It…it just happened.”

  “Did he ask you to marry him?”

  “It was just sex. Indiscriminate sex.”

  “I don’t believe you. He’s not like that. He almost ran every time I tried to kiss him.”

  “I don’t care about him. And he doesn’t care about me. He cares about you.”

  “I’m not a total idiota.” Isabela threw her hands out and flopped backward onto her bed, sending more feathers spiraling above her. “When you leave, send the maids to clean up this mess.”

  “I know you can never forgive me, and I don’t blame you. But forgive him. Marry him…. He needs you.”

  Isabela sat up. “Are you crazy? Maybe if you hadn’t told me, maybe I could.”

  “You two haven’t even begun yet. It’s not like he cheated on you.”

  “How can you even say that?”

  Vivian was backing toward the door. “I’m sorry. I feel terrible. I want to make everything all right.”

  “Well, you can’t.”

  “I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “You’ve been wanting to go home and I wouldn’t let you. Well, I want you gone now. I’ll pay for your bus ticket.”

  “Bus?” It was hours and hours to the States by bus.

  Isabela read her mind and smiled. “You can think about how sorry you are while you stare out at the Mexican countryside. We have a beautiful country, and it is quite large. The roads are bad too.” She laughed a little, as if cheered by the thought.

  “Miguelito will go crazy on such a long ride.”

  Isabela laughed again. “We’ll make that a third-class bus, then. And…and that ticket is all you’ll ever get from me. As far as I’m concerned, once you get on that bus, I don’t care if it breaks down in the middle of the Chihuahua desert and you have a heat stroke, or…or banditos carry you off. If you do make it to the States, I don’t care if you’re so poor Miguelito starves or…or…”

  She broke down in tears and buried her face in her sheets so Vivian couldn’t watch her cry.

  “Isabela, you don’t mean—”

  “I mean every single word” came her muffled sobs through the wadded bedding.

  Vivian was slinging jeans and shorts and blouses she intended to pack for her trip home into a huge wicker laundry basket.

  “You slept with him? And you wouldn’t sleep with me?” Julio whispered. Maybe he was speaking softly, but he was striding about her bedroom like an angry bear.

  Furious, Vivian slung a red bra and a black silk pair of thong panties past his nose toward her basket.

  “A normal woman would pack in suitcases,” Julio said in husbandly disgust as he lifted the red bra off the floor. “When did you start wearing indecent underwear.” He peered at her through the sheer bra.

  “The way I pack is none of your business. Just as who I sleep with. And this—” she lunged and grabbed the bra “—is none of your business.”

  “Because of another man, you’re taking my son to a violent, barbarous country—”

  “The United States of America. The land of opportunity.”

  Cash knocked on the door and Vivian and Julio yelled in unison, “Go away!”

  “It’s only me.” Cash pushed the door open. “And since I’m the subject of your conversation—”

  She sighed, shrugging.

  Julio raised a fist. “She’s packing. She never wants to see you again.”

  “Julio, I really can do this without you.”

  “He slept with you, and he treats you like a dog!” Julio said to Vivian.

  “You’ve got your nerve,” Cash said.

  “She’s my wife!”

  “Ex-wife.” This time it was Cash and Vivian who spoke in unison.

  When Julio lunged at Cash, Vivian jumped in front of him. His raised fist, meant for Cash’s jaw, collided with her slender jaw.

  “Ouch!” She fell backward and both men knelt on piles of lacy underwear to help her up.

  “Get ice,” Cash ordered, taking charge.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Or I will be, as soon as you both leave.”

  “I’m the husband,” Julio said. “I stay.”

  “Julio, please—just do as he says. I really need to talk to him.”

  “Alone? With all these sexy underwears.”

  She gave him a look. “You’re not my husband anymore, you know.”

  “It’s about time you reminded him of that fact,” Cash said.

  “You—be quiet,” she whispered, pressing a fingertip to her aching jaw.

  Julio bowed to her alone. “If you need me, scream.”

  She nodded as he let himself out.

  “Why did you ever marry that lunatic?” Cash demanded.

  “He’s cute.”

  “Funny. I don’t get that about him.” Cash made a face and then he left her to go to the bathroom. He returned swiftly with a cold wet rag, which she took and pressed against her jawline.

  “Okay. What do you want? As you can see, I’m busy packing.”

  “You’re not traveling by third-class bus all the way to the States with a six-year-old little boy.”

  “It’s okay. I feel sane, for the first time in years. I’m taking my life back. I’m going to get a job, go to college and become a teacher. I know that sounds ordinary to someone like—”

  “Don’t treat me like I’m not human.”

  “You’re rich—”

  “I also care about you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You never had me. I’m a big girl. This is something I have to do. I should thank you. Maybe I wouldn’t ever have had the nerve to strike out on my own if it weren’t for you.”

  “You said you didn’t want Miguelito to have to pay for any more of your mistakes.”

  “Don’t you dare act like you care more about my son than I do.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe being so damn independent when you can ill afford to be might be your biggest mistake? I could care for you and your son if you’d let me. What happened last
night…this whole thing…you, Miguelito…it means a lot to me.”

  “You’re lonely. It doesn’t take a genius to see you and I are all wrong for each other. We had great sex, but how long would our attraction last? You have a big life. You’re an international player. I’m…nothing.”

  “We’re both human beings, damn it. Why doesn’t that count?”

  “Our worlds are too different, just like my world was too different from Julio’s for me to understand all the reasons why we wouldn’t work. And we didn’t. You and I couldn’t either.”

  “Sometimes our past teaches us the wrong lessons,” Cash said.

  “I’ve been hurt.”

  “Join the club.”

  “You and me?” She laughed. “This one is a no-brainer.”

  “Not for me.” He sighed and pushed back his thick, glorious hair. “All right, then. If you’re determined, just let me at least give you the money for airline tickets and your fresh start.”

  “You owe me nothing.”

  “I want to do this as a friend.”

  “No.”

  Sucking in a hard breath, Cash stared out the window. The light slanted across his carved features in such a way that she saw the exact moment when his face darkened and closed against her.

  Finally, she thought, hurting in spite of herself.

  He spoke again, only this time he avoided looking at her. “All right, I’m doing this for Miguelito, not you. I’ve got millions. Take the money—for his sake. I’ll give you enough to go back to college, enough so you won’t have to borrow or worry—”

  “You don’t care about Miguelito.” In another moment she would be sobbing.

  “You don’t know what I care about because you’re so damn sure you know everything, and so closed off to me because I’m rich, you never listen. Well, I know what it is to grow up lonely—with parents too busy for you. If you go to school and work and he’s far from his father and aunt, you’ll be worried all the time about money and school. You won’t have time for him. He’s a little boy.”

  “You weren’t like Miguelito. You were rich. You had everything.”

  “Yes,” he said so bitterly she almost wondered if she really did know all about him.

  “I don’t want your money.” But her voice shook as she thought about Miguelito. Cash had hit a nerve. She would be taking her son away from everything and everybody he loved. Her future and his would be frighteningly uncertain. She’d have Miguelito to think about and care about. Money could ease a lot of stress. She’d be able to be gentler and more patient with him.

  “Suit yourself,” Cash said. Then he turned his back on her and headed out the door. His strides were long, determined, as if he were now as anxious to get away from her as she’d told him she was to be free of him.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said about his lonely childhood, about how she might make Miguelito suffer more than he already had with the divorce.

  “Cash—” Her voice was drowned out when he slammed the door.

  Swallowing her pride, she ran after him into the hallway. “Cash! Wait, please…”

  This time he turned. He looked huge in the shadowy hall, but she padded up to him anyway.

  “You were right,” she managed to say. “I don’t want anything from you, but…maybe I’m in no position to refuse.”

  He started to say something and then bit it back when he read the sorrow in her eyes and the pride in her tortured face.

  She squared her shoulders. “So, I—I’ll take your money,” she whispered. “I’ll take it—but I’ll pay you back—a little every month, with interest.”

  “Damn it. I don’t care about you paying me back—”

  Her heart slammed, slowly, painfully. “But maybe I do. Maybe I don’t want to owe you or anybody else anything ever again.”

  He swallowed a quick violent breath. “Damn your pride…and your guilt. Both are misplaced. Is it so wrong for me to want to take care of you because I can? Would it be so awful to try to love me?”

  Love. She loved him. But love didn’t last. At least not for her. Love always went away.

  She stared at her bare feet, too miserable for words. It wouldn’t work, and when it didn’t, the pain for both of them would be unbearable.

  She felt his warm hand lift her chin. “I’ve made you unhappy,” he said in a gentle voice. “That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she said weakly, unable to say more because she was afraid she might break and then he’d see through her little act.

  “Hell, I’ll write the check. Then I’ll go, if that’s what you want. My address will be on my check. Not that I expect anything from you ever.” He paused. “And for what it’s worth, it was nice knowing you—Aphrodite. Damn nice. Whether you believe it or not, I’ll never forget you.”

  “Just go,” she said softly, closing her eyes, fighting tears harder than ever because she feared he’d take her in his arms and she’d never have the strength to leave him.

  When she opened her eyes again, he was gone, and Miguelito was there, slipping his hand into hers.

  “Cash said I won’t ever see him again. Why not, Mommy? I asked him if he’s mad at you, and he said he loves you. Do you hate him too? Like you used to hate Daddy…after the divorce?”

  She knelt and fingered his collarless T-shirt. Never as long as she lived would she feel free of guilt for divorcing Julio and separating Miguelito from his father. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it but live with it. Miguelito would have to live with it too. She only hoped it would make him stronger.

  “Darling, I don’t hate your father or Cash, but you have to pack. We’re going home.”

  “This is my home.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Can we take Spot with us?”

  “His name is Concho. And I’m not sure we can manage a dog.”

  “Tía doesn’t want him.” Miguelito wiped at his eyes.

  “She doesn’t want us either,” Vivian murmured under her breath and continued packing.

  Thirteen

  Four months later

  San Francisco, California

  The clock on the landing struck midnight as Cash slammed the front door. Claws clicked on parquet flooring. Spot ran up barking.

  “Shh.” Cash scratched the orange woolly head when the beast rushed him, his tail thumping wildly.

  Cash felt drained from jet lag and the gala fund-raiser he’d finally managed to escape. Roger, however, was full of energy and determined to have one more for the road. The younger man raced ahead of him down the hall to the elaborate bar Cash kept in his dining room.

  Impatient for his assistant to be gone, Cash unknotted his tie. From his bar came the sounds of the bar refrigerator door opening and closing, of ice clinking into a crystal glass, of a scotch bottle being opened—no doubt his good fifty-year-old stuff.

  “Hey—this is great. Can I fix you something?” Roger called jovially.

  “No thanks.” Cash yanked his tie through his collar and tossed it carelessly onto a French burlwood table. He shrugged out of his jacket and slung it onto the worn Aubusson carpet that had once graced the entrance of his grandmother’s grand house in Martha’s Vineyard.

  Smiling, Roger emerged from the hall, drink in hand. “I couldn’t believe how much you let our beautiful hostess clip you for tonight.”

  Cash frowned. “I was tired I guess.”

  “You couldn’t tell it. You talked to everybody.”

  Cash sighed. “Yes, I talked too much, laughed too much and damn sure drank too much.” He’d done all those things to excess lately to extinguish every thought and feeling he had about a certain unforgettable woman. “I have a helluva headache as a result.”

  “When did you get in from Paris?”

  “Yesterday. I got to the office before dawn.”

  “The place sure was backed up.” Roger sipped, watching him. “So, tell me about Europe. The papers made it s
ound like you partied nonstop with those aristocratic friends whose estate you were redoing. Another one of Count Leopoldo’s pads, right?”

  Cash was stroking Spot behind the ears now, and the dog wore an expression of appreciative bliss. “You met him in Florence.”

  “Oh, right. Every magazine that counts said your designs for his palace in the Alps were brilliant and his parties and cruises were A-list. Did you have any fun?”

  “I missed Spot.”

  Roger laughed. “The mutt doesn’t have a spot on him.”

  “He’s a plain dog. He needs a plain name.”

  Cash sighed. Hell, he’d missed her. Most of all he’d missed her. A scowl worked between his brows. “I thought you read all about what I did in Europe.”

  “I read beautiful babes threw themselves at you.”

  “What if I told you that was the most grueling part?”

  Roger flashed his wide smile. “Damn. What I wouldn’t give to change places with you. Except you can keep Spot.”

  “So, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the parties and the women weren’t any fun, that it’s tough being chased when you don’t want to be caught—even if the predators are gorgeous.”

  “I need another drink to swallow that one.”

  “Sometimes I’m not sure I can afford you.”

  “You can. I do your books—remember?”

  Remembering all the women, Cash leaned against a fluted column in utter exhaustion. Each woman had been younger and more energetic than the one before. Ever since Mexico, ever since her, he’d been afraid to stop running.

  Roger returned with his drink, and stared at his boss and the orange dog looking up at him with dreamy brown eyes.

  “My life feels like a merry-go-round of work, absurd social obligations and women,” Cash said.

  “Poor little rich guy. What happened in Mexico? You went to that barbaric land to get a woman and you brought home that ugly mutt—”

  Spot looked at Roger and moaned.

  “Isabela was a mistake.”

  “Before you went, you told me that any woman from your same class with the proper credentials would do.”

  “I was a damn fool.” Passion for a woman who didn’t want him gave Cash’s tone an abraded edge.