Worth the Drive

by Mara Jacobs

  “Perfect sense,” Katie said, surprised at how deflated she felt at the clarification.

  “Te amo is ‘I love you’ in the sense that I believe you are looking for,” the woman added.

  “Yes,” Katie said, in almost a whisper, “I guess that is the sense I’m looking for.” Still not willing to accept the lesser endearment, she said, “Which would mean more to you to hear?”

  Knowingly, the woman gave Katie a sad smile. “It is always nice to hear te quiero. And it is not an emotion to be taken lightly. But, a woman longs to hear te amo from her mate.”

  Katie thanked them both again and walked back to her seat. From behind her, she heard the man whisper “Te amo,” to the woman, and the woman chuckle and reply the same.

  She had only been back in her seat a short time before Darío joined her, but it was long enough for her to ruminate on the fact that never once had the words te amo come from Darío’s mouth.

  She seemed to have finally won his trust. Could she win his love? Did she even want to?

  She had to protect herself. She never wanted to feel hurt like she’d experienced when Ron walked out. If she let herself fall in love with Darío - and let’s face it, she was nearly there – and he never returned her feelings, she was setting herself up for another devastation. But this time it would be worse, because there’d be a child involved.

  So, she would continue to care for him, sleep with him, raise their child together, but she would protect her heart, not fall in love.

  Darío leaned over, brushed a strand from her face, tucked behind her ear, giving her earlobe a playful tug. His warm hand rested on her bare neck and she felt the heat seep into her skin.

  Oh, yeah, piece of cake.

  When she met them at the airport, Sofia Luna was wearing black stockings just like Katie and her friends had predicted. But they weren’t wool, and they weren’t rolled down to her ankles. No, it was more like black silk stockings that glided up her shapely legs and disappeared under the hem of her tasteful skirt, perhaps to be fastened by lacy garters.

  The woman was beautiful. Breathtaking. And young.

  Much too young to have a thirty-six year old son.

  The woman had to be in her early-to-mid fifties, at the youngest, but she looked not a day older than forty-five. Her dark, olive skin was flawless, with only the hint of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Laugh lines, Katie thought. That boded well.

  Her black hair was pulled back into a low chignon, her brown eyes made up to their best advantage. She wore a long skirt of black linen and a white blouse tucked in with a beautiful, wide leather belt with a huge brass buckle. The silk stockings disappeared into tasteful leather pumps.

  She looked like a woman who spent a lot of time at spas and with experts on the art of makeup application. She looked like she’d lived a fine and pampered life. Katie knew that hadn’t always been the way she lived.

  Katie stood frozen while Darío rushed forward and kissed his mother on both cheeks and then embraced her in a long, warm hug. “Mamá,” he said. Katie was touched by the tenderness in his voice.

  “Mi corazón,” she cooed into Darío’s ear, then rained kisses all over his face. She clutched her son tight to her and Katie felt as though she were intruding on a private moment. Looking behind her, she wondered if she could gracefully exit and pretend to be busy with the luggage until the mother and child reunion was over.

  Sensing her movement, Darío broke away from his mother and reached for Katie’s hand. “Mamá, this is Katie Maki. Katie, my mother, Sofia Luna.”

  Katie felt Darío’s squeeze of encouragement on her hand and squeezed back. She stepped into the circle the two had created, hoping they’d let her join in. They both took a small step back to allow her entrance.

  “Señora Luna, it’s an honor to meet you,” she said in Spanish. She’d practiced the few words the whole flight over, daring to say it out loud only after Darío fell asleep. She had envisioned saying it to a much older woman. She thought she’d got the pronunciation down pretty well, but she knew it didn’t sound half as sexy as Darío’s accent, but then, she wasn’t going for sexy right now. She was going for daughter-in-law material. Mother of her grandchild material. Upstanding. Forthright. Nurturing. Honest.

  Katie wasn’t sure what Darío had told his mother, other than Katie was pregnant and they planned on getting married. Had he told her of his suspicions that Katie had tricked Darío into getting her pregnant? That after the baby was born, he would probably demand a paternity test? That Katie was a woman who would sleep with a man she had known for twenty-four hours with absolutely no protection, and with no intention of ever seeing him again?

  Whatever he’d told her, it wasn’t enough for her to have a tainted view of Katie. This was made obvious when Sofia pulled Katie into an embrace as tight as she had held Darío and started answering Katie’s words with her own, in a Spanish that seemed faster than a speeding bullet. Katie recognized a word here and there, was pretty sure she made out “bueno” and “bebé”, but wasn’t positive. But when Sofia pulled back and looked at Katie with tears in her eyes, then touched Katie’s slightly rounded stomach with gentle hands, Katie understood.

  She felt the same way as Sofia about the miracle of this baby.

  “Mamá, Katie doesn’t speak Spanish,” Darío said. He looked at Katie questioningly, as if maybe she’d learned the language without him knowing it. Katie was pleased that he thought her capable of learning a second language covertly and so quickly.

  “No I don’t, I had one of the caddies on tour write that out for me phonetically. I’ve been practicing it for a few days, but I’m afraid that’s the extent of my bilingual talents.” She offered up this information to Sofia almost apologetically.

  “Sî, Sî, I understand. Don’t worry, Katie, I am almost as proficient at inglés as my son.”

  Katie felt sheepish that she didn’t know Spanish, hadn’t learned more by now. But how was she supposed to know she’d be impregnated by a Spaniard someday back when she was in high school and had to choose between taking French and Spanish?

  “Forgive me, but I’m having a hard time believing Darío is your son. You look much too young.” She could have been trying to score some brownie points, but she wasn’t. It was true.

  Sofia seemed to know that Katie’s shock was genuine. “I was only sixteen years old when I had Darío, but there is no doubt that he is my son,” she chuckled. “I can’t even claim a mix-up at the hospital that your American soap-operas love so much. Darío was born right here. Not in this house, but in the one that stood on the same spot, thirty-six years ago. I wouldn’t let him out of my arms for nearly a week, I was so afraid he’d be taken from me.” She touched her son’s cheek with her fingertips. “He is most definitely my son.”

  The woman’s warm, brown eyes shone with pride and love as she looked at her son.

  Darío’s eyes returned the warm sentiment to the woman who was only a child herself when she’d given birth to him.

  The stress of the past few weeks seemed to catch up to Katie. Jet lag and nervousness at meeting Darío’s mother didn’t help either, and she wasn’t surprised to find herself moved at the tender moment between Darío and his mother.

  As Sofia moved aside to wipe at her tears, turning her back to the couple, Katie took Darío’s hand and laid it on her stomach, placing it in the exact spot that Sofia had touched only moments before, her warmth still evident.

  She met his questioning glance with sure eyes.

  “He is most definitely your son,” she murmured to him.

  He comprehended what she was saying to him, that the baby was his. He nodded, and lightly kissed her cheek as he whispered, “Sî,” in her ear.

  Flooded with relief, and afraid that this sweet moment, coupled with her emotional state and those pesky hormones, might send her into a crying jag, she attempted to lighten the mood. “Or, she is most definitely your daughter,” she said, teasing, her voice now on surer
ground.

  He laughed. “No. No. If she is a daughter, let her be yours. With your hair, your eyes, your beauty. And certainly not my nose.”

  Sofia, now composed and once again facing the twosome, swatted good-naturedly at her son. “Bah! I love your nose. It gives you character.”

  “I could make do with a little less character. And a little less nose.”

  Katie laughed along, but her thoughts were on Darío’s words about a daughter having her beauty. Did she wish that for her daughter? Being beautiful in today’s society was definitely an advantage, but was it an advantage she wanted her child to have? She knew the saying, “I want my child to have every advantage…” but is that really something parents should want for their child?

  Without certain advantages, do children work harder? Develop other skills? Find other ways to achieve their goals? And would having to achieve those goals without advantages be like living with a big nose, bringing out character that would otherwise go undiscovered?

  Would being a beautiful girl, then woman, make her daughter’s life better? Easier? Katie knew firsthand that the answer to that was a resounding no.

  She knew that Darío was just being nice, giving her a compliment. She didn’t believe for one second that Darío would love his child any more or less because of its looks. But the thought of her own issues with looks and how they would translate onto their child found a little drawer in her mind and climbed in, waiting, as if kept in storage. Katie knew that the drawer would surely open up many more times in the future.

  “So that’s where Darío gets his ‘Bah!’ from. He uses it on the course all the time,” Katie said, acknowledging Sofia’s use of the word she could often hear Darío booming halfway down the fairway while she stood on the green two hundred yards away.

  “I’m sure that is not the only loud word he uses, eh?” his mother said, giving her son a knowing smile.

  Darío hung his head. “Katie does not like profanity, Mamá, so I am trying to limit my…outbursts,” he said, chagrinned.

  Katie hadn’t even realized that Darío noticed she didn’t care for foul language, let alone that he was trying to curb his.

  Sofia eyed Katie. “I think that maybe you are to be a good influence on my Darío, eh?”

  The thought stunned Katie. It seemed she was getting so much from Darío, could she possibly be giving something to him in return? A good influence? He said he golfed better when she was in the gallery, but she figured he was just being polite by saying that. Though his recent playing proved him correct.

  Sofia turned, leading the way into the huge house. “Come in, come in. Let’s get you settled. Katie you probably want to rest before dinner. A siesta, eh?”

  After the emotional flight when she’d decided she needed to guard her heart, only to have it tweaked by Darío’s obvious adoration of his mother, a siesta sounded like heaven. She followed the woman into Darío’s home.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Dan would rather play golf than have sex any day.

  - Marilyn Quayle

  Katie’d spent the night in a different bedroom than Darío. He’d tried to talk her out of it. The suite of rooms Darío inhabited when he was home encompassed nearly half the large house. There were three bedrooms, all with their own bath, a spacious sitting room, dining area and office. There was also a kitchen, but Darío rarely entered it, preferring to eat with his mother when he was here. Certainly preferring to eat her cooking to his own. After weeks in America, or elsewhere in Europe, Sofia always prepared her paella for Darío’s first night home. She hadn’t disappointed him last night.

  The level of privacy he and Katie had was as though they were staying in another city, and yet, Katie insisted on staying in one of the other bedrooms. Maybe she was just nervous about meeting his mother. Maybe after a full day with his mother and in his house, she would be comfortable enough to sleep in his room with him. Maybe he’d be moving into the guest room with her.

  Because Darío had no intention of sleeping without Katie next to him another night.

  Since Akron, he’d become used to having her in his bed. Beyond the sex – which was incredible – he liked holding her next to him while he fell asleep. The warmth of her body molded against his, the tickle of her hair against his chin, the way her sweet little behind fit in the cradle of his hips.

  He woke in the mornings with the scent of her in his nose whether she was still in the bed with him or not.

  His thoughts of her were interrupted by a soft knock at his door, and as if his thinking of her had summoned her to him, she entered his bedroom.

  “I didn’t wake you did I?” she asked.

  He shook his head and patted a spot next to him on the bed. She came in, closing the door behind her, but didn’t cross the room to the bed. Instead, she circled the perimeter of the room, looking at the things scattered on his dresser and bookshelf. He watched her as she fingered cufflinks and watches, mostly gifts from tournament sponsors that he’d never worn. His body tensed watching her stroke a gold lighter that he’d never used. Her fingers stroked along the lighter and he went hard thinking of the stroking she’d done to him in the past few weeks.

  Her hair was mussed from sleep. He knew exactly what she’d smell like if only she’d get close enough for him to confirm it. She wore a nightgown he’d never seen her in before. It was soft and demure, long, past her knees with a high collar. She looked sweet and virginal in it.

  He hated it.

  “Gata, come here,” he said, his voice hoarse from sleep and arousal.

  She smiled at him and shook her head. “What would your mother say?” She continued her perusal of his room.

  “First of all, she would never know, she’s over on the other side of the house, no way for her to hear us.”

  “What if she came over? Came in on us?” She had reached his walk-in closet, opened the door and entered the large room. She left the door open. Darío could still hear her, but couldn’t see her.

  He spoke a little louder so she’d be sure to hear him. “She never comes to my side of the house when I’m in town.”

  He thought he heard something, a gasp, a soft “Oh” from her, but when she answered him all she said was, “Never?”

  “Never. I go over to her.”

  The door opened wide. “Well, okay, then.”

  Darío’s breath caught in his throat. Maybe lower. Katie had shed her prim nightgown and was wearing his green jacket from his Master’s victory.

  And nothing else.

  She walked to the bed. “Is it okay that I wear this? It’s not sacrilege or anything, is it?”

  Her blond hair hung in front of her, falling across the lapels of the jacket. The deep vee of the front exposed her tan chest, then the whiteness of her breasts, and belly, mostly concealed by the button in front. The roundness of her breasts and cleavage were visible, but her nipples were hidden behind the jacket. The emblem of the United States wavered over the curve of her left breast. The flag that represented Augusta rippled and waved as she moved.

  No flag had ever claimed a more valuable territory.

  “Sî,” was all he could answer, and that came out rough and short.

  She smiled knowingly, her confidence building aas she looked down and saw his sheet tenting at his arousal.

  She climbed on at the foot of the bed. Darío started to sit up, to come to her, but she put her hand up. He stayed where he was. Waiting. Dying.

  She was on her hands and knees, crawling up the length of him. “Gata,” he said. She had never embodied her nickname more. He pressed his legs together so she could easily straddle him as she padded her way up to him.

  “Meow,” she purred.

  Dios Mio.

  She wrapped her fingers in the bed sheet at his knees and slowly pulled down. The cotton, so smooth normally, seemed rough and jagged against his skin. It prickled against the hair of his chest, across his stomach, along the line of hair snaking downward. Just an inch or two furth
er and she’d be able to see what her feline antics were doing to him. Though the bulge in the sheet was evidence enough.

  She stopped.

  She bent her head down with the grace of a panther, still on her hands and knees, most of her torso even with his legs. She purred – growled, really – from the back of her throat and ran her tongue along his skin, following the line of hair up. She got to his belly button, which she ran her tongue around twice. She continued on to his stomach, which shuddered when her hot tongue lapped his sensitive skin. She seemed to like that, nuzzling her whole face into him, breathing deep, as if taking in the scent of him, savoring it, making sure to remember it.

  Darío could think of nothing better than to be tracked by Katie.

  He placed his hands on her calves, ran them up to behind her knees, slid his fingers in the juncture created as she crawled. Pressure as the back of her thigh came down, then release as she moved forward. Pressure. Release.

  Feeling the pressure, and definitely needing release, Darío moved his hands up the back of her thighs to her round, firm butt to confirm what he already knew. Absolutely nothing on under the green jacket.

  He slid his fingers into the soft cleft, his big palms kneading the taut cheeks of her bottom. She raised up on her hands, her soft hair skimming across his chest. Her blue eyes staring down into his. He moved his fingers. Her eyes grew huge. He swung one hand down, around the front, finding her drenched. Her tongue peeked out from her mouth, wetting her bottom lip. One hand held her open from behind while the other played over her. Stroking her, finding the spots she liked. Staying away from the one that sent her over.

  She began to rock against his hand, her arms moving her forward and back, her dangling breasts caught and held tight by the jacket. Her eyes closed and she began to nod. “Yes. Yes,” she panted.