Mexican Nights (4 page)

"Sounds like a great idea." Mike ran a big hand through his kinky copper-colored hair. He was slightly taller than Jack and stockily built, looking like anything but a secretary. He'd told Terri earlier that he'd taken the job because it gave him a chance to travel.

"I appreciate the invitation, fellows," Terri said lightly, "but I'm bushed."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," Mike put in. "Maybe we could arrange something for the afternoon."

"Don't tell me your employer actually gives you Sundays off," Terri said with heavy sarcasm. "I assumed he worked seven days a week and would probably expect the same of us."

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clearly wanting no part in any further criticism of Derek.

Mike, however, did not seem to have such compunction.

"He
is
inclined to go full speed ahead when he's in the middle of a book, but something tells me he'll find time for play as well as work while we're in Mexico City. Margarite Lopez lives here, you know."

Terri recognized the name of the Mexican actress whom gossip had linked with Derek during the past year. Mike leaned over the table and added in a low, conspiratorial voice, "She telephoned him yesterday. We were working in Derek's suite and I took the call."

Terri should have been happy with this information, since it meant she would be free of Derek's unnerving presence part of the time, but instead she felt hot resentment. Derek would probably expect her to keep working while he galavanted around with Margarite Lopez. She wondered if the actress was Derek's real reason for deciding to write about Mexican civilizations at this time.

She was suddenly curious about the relationship. "He's been seeing her for a long time, hasn't he?"

"Over a year," Mike told her readily. "That's longer than most of his
amores
last. I was beginning to think it was off, until Derek got that phone call from her. I don't think he's seen her in several months. Now it seems to be on, and it must be serious."

"We probably shouldn't speculate on something we really know nothing about," Jack put in a little uneasily.

Terri was ready to change the subject, too. She couldn't care less how serious Derek and his beautiful Mexican actress were! She began gathering up her camera equipment, which she had dropped on the floor next to her chair. "I have to go up to my room now."

"What about tomorrow?" Jack asked.

"Sounds like fun," she said, straightening up, her purse strung over her shoulder, her camera and camera bag clutched in her arms. "Call me in the morning— after eleven, because I plan to indulge myself and sleep late. We can make more definite plans then."

Jack got to his feet as she pushed her chair back. "I'm going up, too." They bid goodbye to Mike and left the coffee shop together. In the elevator, which they had to themselves, Jack said, "I don't care how tired you are, you have to eat dinner. Will you have it with me in the hotel dining room?"

"I don't know—"

Jack's blue eyes clouded. "Did he tell you not to go out with me?"

"Who?" Terri was puzzled by the sudden suspicious narrowing of the clear blue eyes.

"Derek."

"For heaven's sake, why would he do that?"

Jack shrugged. "Earlier today I said something to Mike about asking you out. Derek overheard and it seemed to irritate him. He said we were here to work, not traipse around like tourists on holiday."

Oh, he did, did he? Terri thought mutinously. If she had needed more prompting to accept Jack's dinner invitation, that did it. "He didn't say a word to me about it, but if he had I'd have told him to mind his own business. I'll be happy to have dinner with you. Shall we meet in the dining room at seven thirty?"

Jack, too, got off on the fourth floor. Where two hallways intersected, he turned right. "Mike and I are at the end of this hall," he told her. "Not so very far," he added with a grin, "if you should get lonely."

Terri laughed. "I'll remember that." Where, she wondered as she separated from Jack, was Derek's suite? On this floor as well? She turned left and left again before reaching her own room. It seemed probable he would want to be near his two assistants. She hoped his accommodations were in the wing with Jack and Mike's. Then she wouldn't be likely to run into him in the hallway. It might be better, she concluded as she fitted her key in the lock, if she didn't learn the exact location of Derek's suite. What she didn't know couldn't bother her.

She closed the door behind her, tossed her camera, bag, and purse on the double bed, and dropped into a comfortable armchair next to the large window that looked down upon a busy Mexico City street. There was a small park across from the hotel with cars racing by on either side. At one end of the park stood a huge monument that commemorated the centennial of Mexican independence. A terraced base supported a tall column, atop which stood a golden angel of liberty. Terri had been told by one of the hotel employees that the monument contained the remains of several revolutionary heroes. Narrow walks crisscrossed the park and benches were scattered about on the close-clipped grass. Several couples walked there slowly, arms entwined, or lounged on the benches, touching and kissing. From her first foray into the streets of Mexico City, Terri had been struck by the public manner in which courting couples displayed their affection.

Don't they have houses to go to? she thought now with a trace of cynicism. It was hardly possible to venture into the streets without bumping into these young lovers. She sighed heavily. She ought to be happy for them, she supposed, instead of feeling this dull ache of resentment. Maybe it was only that she felt wrung out already and this assignment had barely begun. Or maybe it was her anger at Derek's suggestion that she and Jack and Mike (the underlings!) would have no time for socializing, while he planned to spend plenty of time with Margarite Lopez. Was it really coincidence that Derek had scheduled this trip to Mexico City just now? The fact that his actress lived here was certainly a fortuitous coincidence—and the trip was at the publisher's expense, too!

She raked slim fingers through thick, blond hair in a weary gesture, puzzled as to why she felt so depressed. She didn't usually have this lonely heaviness weighing on her heart. She was by nature cheerful and optimistic—ordinarily. If there was no lover in her own life, it was by her choice. She had been so busy the past three years getting established in her profession, there hadn't been time for serious relationships. Anyway, she hadn't met anyone with whom she could envision such a closeness.

After several minutes, her head began to nod. Shaking herself awake, she got up to run water into the tub. Sloshing in a generous amount of bubble bath, she stripped off her shorts and halter and stepped into the tub, stretching out so that the aromatic bubbles came up to her chin. With her head resting on the back of the tub, she closed her eyes and gave in to the warm, relaxing lethargy that crept over her.

A few minutes before seven thirty, Terri, dressed in a softly clinging green crepe dress, left her room. As she was pulling the door firmly shut behind her, the door across the hall opened and Derek Storm stepped out. Their eyes met, hers wide with surprise, his unreadable, as usual.

"I—I didn't know you had that room," she stammered, her cheeks warm, her discomposure acute at the sudden meeting for which she had been totally unprepared.

He was wearing an excellently tailored soft gray suit that fit his wide shoulders and trim waist to perfection. A muscle twitched slightly on one side of his firmly sculptured mouth. "Good evening, Terri." He did not seem surprised to see her. Had he known all along that her room was across the hall? His dark eyes swept over her. "Dressed for a night on the town, I see."

"As are you," she returned, meeting his insolent gaze with an effort.

His broad shoulders moved in a careless shrug. "I rather liked what you were wearing the last time we met." The glint in his eyes was teasing. She was sure he meant to insult her.

"Fortunately, I don't dress to please you, so I won't have to dash in and change." She turned on one spike heel with what hauteur she could feign, saying, "If you will excuse me, I am meeting someone for dinner." Let him wonder who! She walked quickly away.

She heard his measured footsteps, muffled in the hall carpet, but following her nevertheless. She did not look back, but when she reached the elevator, he was beside her. She punched the down button and stared straight ahead, aware of his unwavering gaze on her face. She examined her tapering fingernails intently and heard the elevator coming. When the doors slid open, several passengers stepped back to make room. As the elevator continued its downward journey, curious glances came Terri's way, as if the other occupants were aware of the strained atmosphere that had entered the cubicle with the newcomers. She stared at the control panel as the floor numbers were lighted, one by one. She knew, without looking, that Derek was still observing her, his eyes burning into her as if she were a bug under a microscope. Why did he have to watch her so much? Every chance encounter between them was becoming an ordeal.

The elevator arrived at the lobby and Terri stepped out with a grateful sigh. Her relief was short-lived, however, because she was soon aware of Derek Storm walking behind her toward the dining room. She wanted to run, but knew that the mask of sophistication she hoped she was wearing would slip if she did. Besides, it would be just her luck to lose her footing on the polished floor and fall flat. Wouldn't that give him a good laugh?

The dining room was crowded, but Jack saw her immediately and gestured her toward the table he was holding. He pulled out her chair and she sat down.

"I hope I'm not late," she said breathlessly.

"You needn't have rushed," he said, mistaking the cause for her shortness of breath. "You're right on time. Oh, hello, Derek. Are you looking for me?"

Terri stiffened, as she realized Derek Storm was standing beside her chair.

Derek drew a slip of paper from his jacket pocket. "A few things I'd like you to take care of in the morning—in case I don't see you."

Terri fumed inwardly. He'd known all along that she was meeting Jack. And why wouldn't he see Jack in the morning? Because
he
planned to sleep late? Or maybe he intended to spend the night and the following day elsewhere.

Jack was still standing behind her chair. "Would you like to join us for dinner?" Terri could detect the reluctance behind the invitation. It must have been just as obvious to Derek, for he gave a wicked little chuckle before replying, as if he were actually considering taking Jack up on the offer.

"No, thank you," he said after a brief pause. "I have a previous engagement, so I'll say good night." He glanced at Terri as if he were about to add something for her benefit, but he evidently decided against it. He left abruptly. He was probably meeting Margarite Lopez, Terri thought, and she hoped the actress was as arrogant and self-centered as Derek Storm. If so, they deserved each other.

She pulled her wandering thoughts back to Jack, determined to enjoy their meal together. The food was good and Terri soon found herself laughing at Jack's lighthearted banter. What a relief it was to be in the company of a man with whom she could feel comfortable. The hour they spent over dinner passed quickly and pleasantly, but when Jack suggested they go for a stroll in the little park across from the hotel afterward, she begged off. It was one thing to enjoy Jack's company in a crowded restaurant; but the park where she had seen so many lovers earlier was another matter. She didn't feel
that
easy with him yet! He insisted on seeing her to her room and let her know subtly that he would like to be invited in for a while. She pretended not to take his meaning, however, and managed to extricate herself from him after a brief, almost brotherly kiss.

In her room she changed immediately into a thigh-length, cotton knit nighty—the sort of thing that didn't wrinkle and took up no space at all in a crammed suitcase. Then she got into bed and read through a Mexico City tourist guide before turning out the light and settling herself to sleep.

In spite of her exhaustion, she slept fitfully, awakening again and again to peer at the luminous dial of her wristwatch. She did fall into a deep slumber about dawn, but was wide awake again by nine o'clock. She got up, splashed cold water on her face, scrubbed her teeth, and ran a brush through tousled hair. There was a dull ache at her temple, no doubt the result of tossing and turning all night. She decided to go back to bed and order breakfast sent up.

About fifteen minutes later a knock at her door signaled the arrival of her order. She hadn't brought a robe with her, and she hadn't wanted to dress because she was determined to pamper herself this morning— even if she couldn't sleep—by dawdling over breakfast in bed. She glanced down at her short nighty and shrugged. You couldn't
see
anything, after all, and she was as covered up as she was in shorts and halter. Besides, it was probably one of the waitresses bringing her tray.

She padded barefoot across the carpet, disengaged the safety chain, and opened the door. "That was quick. You are to be congratulated on your service," she said brightly, reaching out to take the tray.

"So I've been told." Derek Storm's maddening grin and raised eyebrows met her stunned gaze. He was holding her breakfast tray.

Where had he come from? And that stupid remark about the service had certainly given him the sort of opening he relished. His amused appraisal set her pulses racing. She tugged uneasily at the drooping neck of her gown, aware suddenly that she was wearing nothing underneath and that her blond hair, before its usual morning shampoo, was in tumbled confusion.

"May I come in?" Before she could reply, he moved past her and set the tray on the table beside her bed.

She got back into bed, determined, in spite of everything, to have her breakfast warm. She tucked the sheet primly around her legs, and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the tray. "Sorry I can't offer you any," she said, enjoying the chance to put him in his place, "but there seems to be only one cup. Of course, I didn't expect a guest. What did you do with my waitress?"