Marry Me, Mendoza!

by Judy Duarte

  The young man nodded, then ushered them down a walkway, around a swimming pool and past an outdoor bar, where several couples sipped piña coladas and mai tais. Then he took them to one of several cottages which stood on stilts and were covered with palapa roofs.

  He used a key to open the door to a quaint but clean cottage on the beach. It had hardwood flooring, an overstuffed sofa with a blue tropical print and a glass-top coffee table.

  * * *

  While the bellman pointed out the coffeepot and told Miguel where he could find the ice machine, Nicole decided to explore their accommodations and made her way to the arched doorway of the bedroom which had a sliding door that opened onto the deck.

  In the center of the room was a queen-size bed festooned with a gauzy white canopy.

  A single bed, she realized. But then again, that shouldn’t surprise her since Pepe had instructed the bellman to take them to the honeymoon wing.

  Well, so much for thinking they could figure out some kind of reasonable sleeping arrangements.

  As soon as Miguel tipped the bellman and they were alone, Nicole turned to her new husband and crossed her arms. “This is going to be awkward.”

  “Don’t worry, your virtue is safe.” He pointed to the sofa. “I’ll take the couch.”

  A pang of disappointment shot right through her, even though she should have been relieved that he’d come up with a workable solution.

  “Do you want to use the bathroom first?” he asked.

  Sure. Why not?

  She opened her suitcase and removed the pale blue sundress she’d packed. Then she padded into the bathroom and freshened up from their flight.

  When she was finished, and Miguel had gone in to take his turn, she went to the bedroom and unpacked her suitcase. Then she opened the sliding door of their beachfront bungalow and stepped onto the raised deck that looked over the teal-blue water that stretched across the horizon as far as the eye could see.

  The sun had dropped low in the west, painting the sky in streaks of lavender, pink and orange, promising a beautiful sunset.

  Nicole stood at the railing for a moment, marveling at the ocean view, relishing the salty scent of a balmy tropical breeze, lulled by the sound of the waves breaking on the shore.

  Miguel had been right. Suenos del Sol might not be the fanciest resort, but what an amazing setting. It was just the kind of place a driven, hard-working executive could get away from the corporate grind.

  No matter what happened this week, she would use the time to rest and recoup from all the headaches she’d had to deal with for as long as she’d been the vice president of Castleton Boots.

  Funny how she hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed a break until she got here, until she saw how therapeutic a few lazy days could be.

  Miguel’s family used to vacation at Suenos del Sol, but so far, she hadn’t seen many families with kids—mostly couples, like the older man and woman who were now walking hand in hand along a stretch of lawn near the pool or the two people reading books while seated on towels stretched across the sand.

  Obviously, Suenos del Sol was a romantic getaway that catered to newlyweds and couples. Or maybe it just seemed that way because Pepe had assigned them to one of the honeymoon cottages.

  “Are you ready to go?” Miguel asked from the doorway of the bedroom.

  Nicole turned from her spot on the deck and smiled. “Yes. I was just taking in the view.”

  “Me, too.” His gaze, which was clearly on her rather than the ocean or resort grounds, sketched over her, just as a light wind kicked up, billowing the gauzy material of her sundress.

  An amazing rush shot through her, and not just from the tropical breeze that blew wisps of her hair across her face and whispered against her skin.

  Something in Miguel’s expression—the intensity, the passion that darkened his eyes—sent an arrow of heat straight to her belly.

  She expected him to make a move at that point, to cross the room, take her in his arms and tell her again how he intended to make their marriage real in every sense of the word.

  Yet he merely stood there, leaning against the doorjamb. Undressing her with his eyes, seducing her without saying a word.

  Something told her that if they were going to come together, she’d have to take the first step toward him, toward the bed. But she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t.

  Sex would only complicate their business arrangement. But tell that to her soaring heart and her raging hormones.

  This—sharing a hotel room, but not a bed—was so not going to work. Being near Miguel and not being able to touch him was going to kill her.

  And if that wasn’t bad enough, being surrounded by other vacationing couples—newly married and those enjoying a second honeymoon—would only make it worse.

  He might have volunteered to sleep on the sofa, but that wasn’t going to be a very good solution. Not when something sexual seemed to be unfolding right before her very eyes, tempting her beyond measure—and against her better judgment.

  Six nights.

  Two ex-lovers.

  One bed.

  It all added up to trouble in paradise.

  What had she been thinking when she’d flown to New York and proposed a rushed marriage to a man she’d once loved?

  Doing her best to shake off the attraction and to break the spell Miguel had cast on her just a couple heartbeats ago, Nicole cleared her throat. “We’d better go. We don’t want to keep your uncle waiting.”

  “All right. Let’s get out of here.”

  That sounded simple enough. And while she’d been the one to suggest they leave, the truth of the matter was that she wouldn’t mind ordering room service and remaining right where they were.

  Yet even if Tio Pepe wasn’t waiting for them in the lounge, she wouldn’t suggest making love here and now. Not when nothing good could possibly come of it.

  Yet her whole body was reminding her just how long it had been since they’d had a good workout.

  Oh, for Pete’s sake. How in the world was she ever going to get through the next week without falling prey to temptation?

  * * *

  Miguel and Nicole spent the first evening of their honeymoon with Tio Pepe in the Suenos del Sol lounge.

  If his uncle thought it was unusual for a new bride and groom to enjoy time in his company, rather than in the privacy of their room, he didn’t comment.

  Either way, having Pepe with them made it a lot easier for Miguel to ignore the jolt of sexual awareness that had nearly blown off the thatched palapa roof of the bungalow the moment he had peered into the bedroom and saw a dreamy-eyed Nicole standing on the deck, the only thing between them an empty bed.

  Miguel hadn’t acted on it, even though he’d planned a romantic getaway, hoping to make love for old times’ sake. And while he’d like nothing more than to have a sexual romp with Nicole, it would have to be her idea because he couldn’t trust himself to make love to her for all the right reasons—and none of the wrong ones.

  Only trouble was, his attraction to her had ignited all over again, threatening to take him down in a blaze of glory.

  This is going to be awkward, she’d told him upon their arrival in the bungalow. But it would entail a hell of a lot worse than stilted conversations.

  When he’d spotted her standing out on the deck, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, the breeze playing with wisps of her hair and the flimsy fabric of her dress, he’d completely forgotten that they weren’t on a real honeymoon and that she wasn’t really his wife.

  At that moment, he wished he could roll back the clock to the time when he hadn’t given any thought to his motives for wanting to make love with her again, other than a little mutual pleasure.

  “This is amazing,” Nicole said, as she munched
on a homemade tortilla chip dipped in seviche. The fresh fish and shrimp had been marinated in lemon juice and spiced with chili peppers, Tio Pepe’s personal recipe. “I’ve seen this on various menus but I’ve never tried it before.”

  Miguel lifted his ice-cold bottle of Pacifico beer and took a drink, trying his best to focus on his uncle and not the beautiful brunette who sat beside him, nursing a glass of ice water laced with a slice of lemon.

  “So tell me,” he said to Pepe, “is Las Palmas still a hot nightspot for the tourists?”

  “Yes, it is. At least, for those who like to kick up their heels and have a good time. Our honeymooners tend to want to stick close to the bungalows—and take midnight swims. Know what I mean?”

  Miguel knew exactly what he meant. And under normal circumstances, he’d much rather stick close to the bungalow with Nicole, only leaving the bedroom long enough to eat or to cool off in the ocean.

  “You told me about that nightclub years ago,” Nicole said. “Isn’t that the one that sparked your dream to open a club of your own someday?”

  Miguel smiled, glad she remembered. “My parents used to bring us down here for vacations and even once for a family reunion. When Marcos and I were teenagers and supposed to be asleep in our room, we’d slip away and sneak into Las Palmas. We loved listening to the music and watching the people dance.”

  “The last time I talked to your father,” Pepe said, “he mentioned that you were going to open your own club in Red Rock this summer.”

  Miguel nodded, chest puffing up more than a smidgeon and a big ol’ grin stretching across his face. “I’m going to call it Mendoza’s. You’ll have to come see it.”

  Pepe lifted his beer and took a swig. “I’d like that, mijo. Will it be like Las Palmas, with the tropical decor and disco music?”

  “No, I don’t think that would go over very well in Red Rock. Mendoza’s is going to cater to the country-western crowd.”

  When the cocktail waitress stopped by their table and asked if they’d like another drink, Miguel suggested dinner.

  “I’m ready to eat,” Nicole said. “How about you, Tio Pepe? Can you join us?”

  Miguel’s uncle slowly shook his head. “As much as I’d like to, I have a beautiful lady of my own, fixing dinner for me at her place.”

  Pepe’s wife had died of cancer about five years ago, and while most of the single women in town between the ages of thirty-five and sixty had been only too happy to take her place in his heart, he’d held off on dating.

  “Have I met her?” Miguel asked.

  “No, but I’ll probably introduce you to her before you and Nicole have to leave.”

  “I’ll look forward to it, Tio.”

  Pepe nodded as he slid back his chair and stood. He reached for Nicole’s hand and gave it a warm shake with both of his. “I wish only the best for you two. I’ll see you in the morning. Have a wonderful evening.”

  Miguel didn’t know about that. He kind of liked having a third wheel to diffuse the sexual tension, but he cast his uncle a grin, then reached for Nicole’s hand. “Come on, honey. Suenos del Sol has one of the best chefs on the peninsula. Wait until you taste the mahimahi.”

  A couple of hours later, after a scrumptious dinner at a cozy table for two, Miguel led Nicole back to the bungalow, their path lit by tiki lights.

  “It’s a pretty night,” she said. “Look at the moon and stars.”

  He already had, when they’d first left the restaurant and started along the path to the bungalow. The evening sky had been made for lovers.

  “I can see why this resort would be your favorite vacation spot,” she added—making small talk, he supposed.

  He couldn’t blame her for that. The night lay before them, the romantic possibilities endless. He could slip his hand in hers again, like he’d done when they’d left the lounge and gone into the restaurant. But he didn’t.

  When they reached bungalow number twelve, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to their room, using it to open the door. Then he turned on the light.

  Now what? he wondered, as he scanned the living area and realized there wasn’t a television in sight.

  “I think I’ll turn in for the night,” Nicole said. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

  “Me, too,” he lied. “Why don’t you go ahead and use the bathroom first. I’ll make up a bed on the sofa.”

  “We can trade off,” she said. “I’ll let you have the bed tomorrow.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  She could have objected, but she didn’t. So while she gathered her toiletry bag from the bureau, along with a nightgown she’d placed in the drawer, he joined her in the bedroom, where he opened the closet and removed the extra blanket and pillow from the shelf, then went to make up the couch.

  All the while, she watched him through the open bedroom door. Again, she could have said something, stopped him, but didn’t.

  Instead, she padded into the bathroom, closing the door.

  Damn. He’d been sure she was going to say something, suggest something. But she hadn’t.

  And since he was determined to let her make the first move when it came to sex, he realized it was going to be a long night—and a hell of a long week.

  Chapter Ten

  Miguel slept like hell that first night and not much better on the five that followed. In spite of the sofa having fairly soft cushions, he never seemed to be able to find a comfortable spot.

  By the time each morning rolled around, his back ached and he usually had a crick in his neck.

  Several times, while opening up a bottle of ibuprofen, he’d been tempted to ask the front desk to give him a separate room, the news of which was sure to reach his uncle’s ears and blow the whole wedding ruse sky-high. So instead, he’d sucked it up and made the best of it.

  He kept hoping Nicole would ask him to join her in the bed, and he would have jumped at the chance for more reasons than a good night’s rest. But so far, she hadn’t. And with one last day in paradise, sleeping curled up beside her didn’t look promising.

  He could have turned on the charm until the suggestion to make love came from her lips, but he refused to seduce her on principle alone. If she made the first move toward sex, he wouldn’t have to question his motives—or the kind of man he really was.

  So now he knew. He’d passed his own test.

  But just barely.

  Things might be platonic between them, but on the upside, they seemed to be getting to know each other all over again. Still the sexual tension stretched between them like a strained and frayed rubber band, ready to snap at any given time.

  The brutal sleep regimen, along with the self-imposed celibacy, was doing a real number on him. And with his hormones on overload, he just might pop himself. But he could finally count down the hours until life went back to normal—or as normal as a marriage for business purposes could get.

  As dawn broke over Suenos del Sol on their last day at the resort, the morning unfolded much like the others had.

  Nicole had come out of the bedroom all bright-eyed and bushy tailed, as if she’d slept like a charm. Then Miguel had padded into the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would ease his aches and pains.

  For the most part, it had.

  They’d had coffee in their room, while deciding how they’d spend the day. During the week, they’d found a nearby stable and gone horseback riding. They’d also taken a Jeep tour of the area. Miguel had even put some of his charm to good use by talking Nicole into parasailing.

  Not that they hadn’t spent a few lazy hours reading by the pool, although Nicole had to set her book aside several times to either make a call to her office to Diana or to receive one from her executive assistant—some guy named Bradley.

  “So what’ll it
be today?” Miguel asked her. “We could borrow a car from my uncle and drive to Cancún.”

  “I suppose we could, but I spotted a poster in the lobby yesterday that advertised an art show and a farmer’s market in Santa Inez. Why don’t we rent bicycles and go check it out?”

  The idea was as good as any he could come up with, so he said, “Sure. Why not?”

  After a light breakfast, they rented two beach cruisers and rode into town to a large grassy area with outdoor booths where vendors sold produce and handmade items, such as tie-dye shirts, ceramics and other work created by local artisans.

  They made their way past the food selections, where one woman displayed a variety of homemade sweet breads and rolls and another offered fresh salsa bottled in mason jars. They spotted several booths of handcrafted jewelry, as well as one that offered wind chimes made out of colorful melted glass and bamboo.

  They stopped at a table stacked high with quilts, then moved on to one with crocheted baby blankets.

  Eventually, they made their way to the spot where several artists displayed ceramic sculptures, paintings, watercolors and charcoal sketches.

  “Look,” Nicole said, pointing to an oil painting perched on an easel. “What do you think?”

  It was the view at Punta Vista at sunset, the palapa rooftops of Suenos del Sol showing in the distance.

  “I like the colors,” he said. “It’s a nice reminder of our...trip.” He nearly said “honeymoon,” although it had been anything but. Still, he had gotten a chance to know the adult Nicole better.

  And he had to admit that he liked her, especially when she wasn’t carrying her smartphone with her.

  “This really doesn’t fit with the decor of my condo,” she said. “But I can find a place for it in the new house.”

  “How much?” Miguel asked the artist.

  “No habla Ingles, senor.” The man scanned the grounds, as if looking for an interpreter.

  “Esta bien,” Miguel told him, lapsing into Spanish.

  While they negotiated a price, Nicole’s cell phone rang.