Acapulco Moonlight

by Marjorie Lewty

  She felt hollow inside as she knew what she had to do—the role she had to play. Could she do it? Could she possibly carry it off?

  I must, she thought, it's the only way out and it's for Ben's sake.

  Max was more sensitive than she could have guessed. He had walked beside her in silence, holding her arm in a companionable way, but now he said, 'Look, we've walked long enough. How about a nice long cool drink? We'll sit and gaze out to sea and I'll finish telling you the story of my life.'

  'Thank you, Max,' Karen said. 'The cool drink would be lovely but I'm afraid I shan't have time to hear the story of your life. I want to go and buy a dress to wear at the Group dinner tonight— something really snazzy.' A dress that would renew her confidence. A dress that would establish her firmly on a level with Liz Walker—equally hard-boiled, equally sophisticated. She was going to act her head off—and act her heart out. She smiled at Max. 'Want to come and help me choose?'

  'I wouldn't miss it for all the tea in China,' Max Friend assured her. 'Tonight you shall be the Queen of Acapulco.'

  The sun had set by the time they got back to the hotel. Karen looked round anxiously and through the open door of the main lounge she saw Saul sitting at a table with three other men, deep in conversation. She hurried to the lift and took the dress-box that Max was carrying.

  'Thank you for—for being so nice,' she said lamely.

  He grinned back at her. 'Friend by name and friend by nature. I'll be rooting for you tonight. You'll knock 'em all sideways in that dress.' He raised both thumbs as the lift took her upwards.

  An hour later Karen stood in front of her long mirror and wondered if she had the nerve to go down in this dress. If it hadn't been for Max's encouragement she doubted if she would ever have used nearly half her remaining store of pesos to buy it. It was outrageous—sensational—a dress she would have never in a million years have dared to wear at home. A short, pencil-tight black skirt, topped with a bodice that was hardly a bodice at all, merely a flyaway assortment of enormous taffeta bows in a startling petunia-pink, held up round the neck with a narrow ribbon, and cinched in tightly round the waist with a broad black patent belt. Black lace tights and black sandals with five-inch heels. Petunia lips and finger nails. An eye-make-up called Black Grape. Karen drew in a long breath through pursed lips. She needed a stiff drink to supply a little courage.

  Just one drink, though, and she must be very careful how much wine she drank at dinner. She needed to keep her cool this evening. She took one of the miniature bottles from the tiny built-in bar fitment, mixed a gin and orange and tossed it off. Now, she assured herself, she was ready to play Saul's game on his own level.

  Right on cue there was a tap on the door and Saul himself appeared. 'How's it going!' he began and then stopped short, black brows shooting up. He looked her over slowly from head to foot and back again. 'What in God's name have you got on?'

  Karen spun round, her eyes dancing. 'I felt like celebrating, so I went out and bought a new dress to wear at the dinner this evening. Max came with me.'

  'Max?' His lip curled. 'Yes, I can recognise his taste. Why couldn't you have asked me?'

  'Oh, I should have done only you said you were going to be busy. Wouldn't you have chosen this?' she asked innocently.

  'No,' he said. 'It's too far out for you. Not your style, Karen.'

  She dabbed perfume behind her ears and on her wrists. 'Oh, don't be stuffy, what's wrong with it? It's a fun dress—everything's fun in Acapulco. You don't take anything seriously that happens here.' She looked at him under her eyelashes. 'Hadn't you noticed?' She picked up her bag and ran past him to the door. 'Come along, let's go down and join the party.'

  Everyone was gathering in the bar for drinks and Karen managed to get separated from Saul. She smiled brilliantly at Max as he made a bee-line for her. 'How do I look?' she whispered conspiratorially.

  'Fabulous. All the men are pop-eyed.' He led her to a lounge sofa and sank down beside her. 'Not only the men. Don't look now but Liz Walker is turning bright green. You've certainly put one over on Her Highness.'

  Liz was sinuous and sultry in clinging burnt-orange velvet, slit to the thighs and backless, with a plunging neck-line and enormous glittering pendant earrings.

  'Everything on show in the window,' chortled Max. 'I prefer your bows—you have to look round corners to see the interesting parts. Oh yes, you're going to be the tops tonight, you'll see. Here they come already.'

  Three of the men were approaching, and a couple more joined them, crowding round Karen, plying her with drinks, making rather feeble jokes. Soon she found herself surrounded by the very men who only this morning had acknowledged her presence at the conference table politely but without any particular enthusiasm.

  She laughed at their jokes and quipped back, her hazel eyes sparkling wickedly. Most of them, she saw, had already been drinking and one man, a pale, balding individual whom Karen recognised as Ferguson, the man that Saul had bailed out the other night, moved closer to her on the cushioned seat and whispered, 'How about a little dinner when I come up to Lessington, darling?'

  His arm went round her waist and at that moment Saul broke through the crowd. 'Come on all of you, dinner's on.' He gave Ferguson a dark look and took Karen's hand to pull her up. 'Where did you get to?' he said in a low, annoyed voice as they made their way to the big table set for the whole party in the restaurant. 'I've been looking for you.'

  She said, 'I've been mingling—I feel I'm quite one of the gang now, they've all been so sweet to me— welcoming me and making me feel at home.'

  'I bet they have,' he said, with a rather sour glance at the huge cyclamen bow that was brushing his. shoulder. 'They're O.K. but I'd prefer it if you stuck by me for the rest of the evening.'

  She flashed him a provocative smile. 'I won't promise.'

  Karen sat next to Saul, with Bill Goodall on her other side, and Annie beyond him. Liz Walker, Karen was relieved to see, was holding court at the far end of the table. Annie leaned across and said, 'Are you feeling quite better now, Karen dear? Such a shame you had to leave last night. Saul told us this morning that you weren't feeling too good. Something you ate, perhaps?'

  'Perhaps,' Karen agreed and felt her inside squirm momentarily at the memory of last night and all that had happened. 'But I'm fine now, thanks. Quite ready to wolf all this lovely food.'

  Bill Goodall looked doubtfully at the menu card. 'It all seems to be foreign stuff—what's this turkey with guacamole and prawn enchil—something or other. I'd rather have a steak and chips.'

  His wife gave him a reproachful look. 'Don't be insular, dearest. Mexican chefs are supposed to be the best in the world. And look at those marvellous bowls of fruit. I simply adore papayas and mangoes, don't you, Karen?'

  As well as the colourful splashes of fruit the long table was decorated with great Aztec pottery bowls spilling out tropical flowers, scarlet and white and blue. 'I think that's intended to be a compliment to the Union Jack,' Saul murmured, leaning towards Karen, putting a hand on her knee under the table. She felt nothing but angry revulsion as she had a vivid, treacherous picture of those hands caressing Liz Walker only a few hours ago. But the act must be kept up. She covered his hand with hers, drawing it higher still, smiling up at him with a little sexy smile before she pushed his hand away with a playful tap.

  It must have been a marvellous dinner—Karen just wished she could have appreciated it—even tasted it. She was so tense that she couldn't do either. Turkey— chicken—exotic sauces—the little pancakes called tacos stuffed with all manner of rich goodies— delicious iced desserts decorated with dices of melon and strawberries. Normally she would have relished a meal like this but tonight she only picked at the food on her plate and took tiny sips of wine to make it last longer.

  There was an air of bonhomie around the table, of a conference successfully concluded, and the men were in high good humour, Karen joined in everything, flirting with her eyes with all the men near h
er at the table, laughing delightedly as their jokes got more and more risqué. Once or twice she caught Saul glancing at her in a puzzled way and she flashed him a brilliant smile that said, 'Isn't this all fun?' She had to go on acting, she had to establish her new personality as a modern girl who would spend a night in a man's bed without a second thought, and no strings afterwards. She had to be armed against him when the crunch came.

  The meal seemed endless, the party became more and more hilarious, the dancing and singing of the small group that provided the floor-show added to the general noise and colour. Then the lights were dimmed and soon the small floor-space was thronged with couples, jiving or clinging as the mood took them. Karen's head was beginning to ache and she got up to make her way to the ladies' powder room, but she felt an arm grab her and pull her on to the dance floor.

  'C'mon sweetness, dance with me,' a slurred voice breathed alcoholically in her ear. The Ferguson man, and very, very drunk. Karen looked round in the dimness for Saul and saw that he had moved up to the other end of the table and was sitting with Harry and Liz and the woman director.

  She tried to wriggle away, but Ferguson held her tightly round the waist. 'Pretty girl,' he mouthed. 'Too pretty for an old bus'ness con-confrence. Had me eye on you right from th'start.' He was panting now and his free hand was roaming all over her, damp and hot on her bare back, finding its way beneath the taffeta bows. His mouth opened and clamped down on her neck, wet and slobbering.

  Utterly repelled, Karen made a desperate movement to get away from him but his hands were everywhere, like horrible fishy tentacles. 'Let me go,' she hissed. 'Let me go!''

  'Not on y'life, baby. You stick by me—have a good time together, what?'

  A man's arm came between them. Bill Goodall's voice said firmly, 'Just lay off, Ferguson, will you?'

  Until now Bill had seemed to Karen a mild little man, but at this moment he was very much the managing director, speaking with the voice of authority. Ferguson's hands went slack on Karen's body and then dropped to his side. 'None of your business, mate,' he hiccupped. But Bill had Ferguson firmly by the arm and was propelling him none too gently away.

  Karen pushed through the crowd of dancers and reached the ladies' powder room. Here she sank on to a stool, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with anger and disgust.

  A moment later Annie Goodall rushed in bubbling with indignation. 'That awful man—he shouldn't have been allowed at a conference like this. He's not even a director, only a rep. of some sort. Has he upset you, my dear? Bill's dealing with him.'

  Karen pushed back her hair with fingers that shook. 'It was good of Bill to rescue me. I'm quite all right now—only annoyed.' She laughed. 'Ferguson is rather a pain, isn't he?'

  Annie put a kind hand on her shoulder. 'You stay with us, dear, for the rest of the evening—we'll look after you.'

  Karen thanked her. 'But I think maybe I've had enough. Anyway I was intending to disappear when that man grabbed me. My head's aching a bit—I think maybe I haven't quite got over last night yet. I'll go up to my room and have a good sleep. Will you make my apologies if anyone asks?'

  Annie's plump face immediately became concerned. 'You poor love, yes, of course I will. Shall I come up with you, is there anything I can do?'

  Karen shook her head and thanked her. Annie was a dear, kind soul but Karen had to be alone.

  It was very hot in the restaurant and she made her way round the edge of the room, past the service trollies, as far away from the dance-floor as possible. The noise of the exuberant Mexican band beat through her head until it felt like bursting. She had to pass near the dance-floor momentarily, to get to the exit door and at that moment Saul danced slowly past with Liz Walker in his arms, coiled round him like a serpent.

  Karen stumbled out into the cooler air of the wide hall. She was sure that Saul hadn't seen her, but it didn't really matter. He had Liz for the moment because Harry had been lolling back in his chair with too much tequila inside him, for the last half hour, and wouldn't notice what his wife was up to. Saul wouldn't be able to have Liz for the night though, they wouldn't be able to engineer that. And that was when Karen had to be ready to finish off her act.

  It was cool in her room, a relief to strip off the taffeta bows and get into a light cotton dress. She wouldn't risk a flimsy robe just now. If Saul came that might look as if she were expecting a re-run of last night. She washed off her make-up and , settled down in the easy chair, picking up a magazine. Not until she finally heard Saul come up and go into his own room and close the door would she risk getting into bed. She guessed that wouldn't be for some time. Harry Walker wasn't going to sober up just yet, and Saul and Liz would doubtless make the most of their opportunity.

  In the event it couldn't have been more than ten minutes or so before she heard him moving in the next room. She sat gripping the arms of the chair, waiting for the knock on her door; he must surely come, even if only to know why she had left the restaurant in such a hurry.

  She had just time to get up and fish out her travelling case and open a few drawers when there was a knock and Saul was inside the room. Karen drew in a ragged breath before she fixed a bright smile on her mouth. She hadn't expected that the mere sight of him would flood her with such wild sensual longing.

  'Annie said you weren't feeling well,' he said. 'What's wrong?' She thought she heard a faintly wary note in his voice.

  So Annie had been tactful about not mentioning the Ferguson episode and Karen was grateful. She had to act now for all she was worth and if he had known about that it might have complicated matters. 'Nothing's wrong, actually. I thought I'd come up and get packed, I want to make a very early start in the morning.'

  He came a little further into the room. 'There isn't any very great hurry, is there? I thought we might go as far as Mexico City together, but I can't very well rush away myself. We could get the afternoon shuttle.'

  She shook her head, smiling, shrugging. 'Sorry.'

  There was a silence while she transferred a small pile of garments to her case. He came up behind her and put his arms round her waist. 'Karen?' he said softly.

  Oh no you don't, she thought. She wriggled away and went to the closet, unhooked her dresses from the rail in one heap and dropped them on the bed. 'I really do have to pack,' she said pointedly, still smiling.

  She saw his face change, he'd got the message now. His mouth compressed. 'What's wrong, Karen?'

  'Wrong?' she said brightly. 'Nothing's wrong, everything's marvellously right. I've got everything I hoped for when I came here.'

  His face was closing up now; he looked like the Saul Marston she had first seen in Clark's office in Lessington—the man she had disliked on sight.

  'Because I've come down in favour of Ben Clark's company?'

  'Yes. Exactly that.'

  There was a long silence. Karen began to fold up her dresses, hoping that he wouldn't see how much her hands were shaking. At last he said in an odd, stiff voice, 'And what about us? What about last night?'

  She laughed, her eyes dancing. 'Oh, last night was super. You're a marvellous lover, as I'm sure you know. And,' she added slowly, 'there's nothing I wouldn't do for Ben, anyway.'

  That had been a mistake, that last bit. She knew before it was out. She saw his face harden and a tremor of fear passed through her.

  'You mean—you really thought if you slept with me it would soften me up? Turn the choice in favour of Clark's company?'

  'We-ell, something like that,' she murmured. 'You said it yourself—what was it, bribery and corruption with a spot of blackmail thrown in.'

  He exploded then. 'You little bitch—you knew bloody well I was joking when I said, that.' He was white with anger now. He put his hands on her shoulders, shaking her.

  Karen moved out of his grasp, with a little chiding smile. 'I never know exactly what you mean—you enjoy being enigmatic, it's part of your image. Anyway, I thought it might just tip the scales in our favour. And it was fun, wasn't it?
'

  'Fun!' He ground out the word through his teeth bitterly and she could almost imagine he cared. 'Is that how it seemed to you? You're a bloody good actress then.'

  She touched his hand. 'Don't be cross, Saul, and let's be friends. We may meet again—on business, of course—and we don't want to be on bad terms. Although,' she added for a good measure, 'I don't suppose I'll be working at Clark's much longer. Being Ben's wife is going to be a full-time job.'

  He breathed in hard through his nose, his mouth grim. 'So—you've made up your mind, have you, now that Clark isn't going into the bankruptcy court after all? And what will dear Ben think about your little caper last night—all undertaken in his interest—of course.'

  She pouted prettily. 'Oh Saul, you really are being horrid. You wouldn't tell him, would you?'

  He looked at her so contemptuously that her inside turned to ice. 'No, he said, 'I wouldn't tell him.' He spun round and strode towards the door. 'O.K. if that's how you want it, Karen, so be it. You can tell Clark I'll be in touch with him as soon as I get back from Japan, in about a fortnight,'

  He put one hand on the door-knob. 'I suppose you'll be travelling back with him to look after his comfort on the journey?'

  'Oh yes, of course,' she said.

  'Yes,' he said in a clipped tone. 'Of course. Nanny in action once more. How nice for you both. Good night, Karen.' He closed the door behind him with a restrained slam.

  She finished packing, moving like a robot, leaving just her toilet things to put in in the morning. Little knots of tension began to ache, in her shoulders, in her jaw, in her head. It had all gone as she had planned, she hadn't given herself away, she had salvaged her self-respect—in a negative kind of way. Saul had only been marginally annoyed, his pride had suffered a tiny dent, but he would have forgotten all about it by tomorrow.