Mexican Nights (7 page)

Derek, who had been watching her with a curious expression, got to his feet in a single quick movement and, only inches away, looked down into her flushed face. "I wouldn't bet on that, Terri. I don't think you'd be able to resist if I really set my mind to it. You're not nearly as indifferent to me as you pretend."

She had such a strong desire to slap his smug face that her hand came up seemingly of its own volition. Whether she would actually have struck him, she was never to know, for Derek caught her wrist with a triumphant laugh. "See what I mean? Maybe you should take some of your own advice, my little spitfire, and learn to control your temper."

Before she could reply in kind, he was walking away from her, a confident spring in his step. She clenched her teeth in fury for a moment before hurrying after him.

She half-expected him to punish her for her insults with sullen silence. Instead, when she caught up with him, he began to talk about the Aztecs again, as if nothing untoward had happened. What an infuriating man! He could turn emotion on and off like a faucet!

She was struggling to gather her own frayed emotions when she looked up and gasped.

Walking beside her, he made a sound of agreement. "Awe-inspiring, isn't it?"

"Which one is it?"

"The Moon Pyramid. Down there—you see?—that's the Sun Pyramid."

"I've read about them—and I've seen pictures—but somehow it isn't the same as actually being here. Surely, even the Egyptian pyramids can't be more breathtaking!" She glanced at him to see that he was smiling, enjoying her reaction. "Isn't it a strange coincidence," she continued, "there being pyramids in this part of the world and in Egypt, too?"

"One of the great mysteries for students of ancient history," he agreed. "There are those who say it's no coincidence at all, and they've devised some clever arguments to show a connection between the two civilizations."

Intrigued, her earlier indignation forgotten, Terri asked, "What do you mean?"

He had slowed his pace so that she could walk easily beside him. "Some people theorize that the builders of the Central American pyramids came here from Egypt—at least from that area of the world—possibly ancient Babylonia. The Tower of Babel mentioned in the Bible was, they say, a pyramid."

"But how could they have traveled such a long distance over the ocean?"

He shrugged. "By an ancient land bridge, or even— in several stages with island stops—by sea. Then there's another theory that the pyramid builders in both hemispheres traveled to their respective locations from a common homeland, an island, perhaps, that was at some midpoint between the American continent and the Middle East. The more fanciful have toyed with the notion the homeland might have been the lost continent of Atlantis."

"Do you agree with any of those theories?"

He laughed. "I neither agree nor disagree. In my books I present the facts that can be documented. For the rest, I discuss the arguments on both sides and let the reader draw his own conclusions. These American pyramids, unlike those in Egypt, were not tombs but simply raised platforms on which their temples were placed."

They had reached the base of the Moon Pyramid now, and, gazing up, Terri exclaimed, "Why did the, builders make them so big if their only purpose was to support a temple?"

"In the beginning," Derek explained, with what Terri thought was surprising patience, "they weren't so large. What you see here are several pyramids built one on top of the other. At the end of every fifty-two-year cycle, when the world was 'reborn,' a new structure was built over the old. The temple is no longer up there, but you'll be able to see from those at Chichén Itzá that it probably was small and unimpressive." He looked down at Terri with a questioning glance. "Shall we go up?"

Terri nodded and they started climbing. Fortunately, there were several platforms along the way where they could stop and catch their breath. By the time they reached the top, Terri's chest burned and it was several moments before she felt she could draw enough air into her lungs.

Derek was not nearly as winded as she, and while she was impressed by his stamina, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of commenting upon it. She took several shots from atop the pyramid, and then they made their way back down the steep steps to the base. After Terri had snapped more pictures of the Moon Pyramid from various angles on the ground, they began walking along a broad road, which was flanked by the remains of various ceremonial structures, toward the Sun Pyramid.

"This is the Avenue of the Dead," Derek told her. "It was named that because the archaeologists found many human skeletons along its length when they uncovered it."

In spite of the hot sun, Terri shivered. "Were they sacrifices?"

"Possibly," Derek said. "We know that the Aztecs made sacrifices at numerous times throughout the year—sometimes several at one time. They believed that their gods needed human blood and hearts to exist, so they did their utmost to please them. In the Aztec city that stood where Mexico City is now located there were over fifty temples where human sacrifices were offered."

"How utterly barbaric!"

He smiled. "From our point of view, yes. But from their reality it was a great privilege to be chosen as a sacrifice."

The ascent of the Sun Pyramid was even more arduous than the climb up its smaller counterpart. At the top, Terri collapsed in a sitting position, her legs outstretched, her open hands behind her, arms supporting her body. She closed her eyes, panting, and waited for her thundering heart to slow down. Beside her, Derek was breathing heavily, too, but she was too exhausted to feel any satisfaction at this evidence that he had human weaknesses like everyone else.

What did give her satisfaction was knowing that the difficult climbing was over for the day. She had proved that she could keep up with Derek, and she had not fainted in the process, as he had suggested she might.

When she had her breath back, she took more pictures before descending, then finished out the roll with pictures of the structures lining the Avenue of the Dead.

"It's been a good day's work," Derek said as they were returning to the car. Then, glancing at his watch: "It's almost six. We'll stop for something to eat. I know a good restaurant about halfway to the city."

The restaurant proved to have a rich Mexican atmosphere. While they waited for their meal, Terri excused herself and went to the ladies' room to freshen up. She was dismayed at her own mirrored reflection. Her face was pink from too much sun and the shining golden cap of her hair was now a disgraceful dishevelment with damp tendrils at the hairline in front. Sighing, she repaired the damage as best she could with powder puff and comb.

Derek smiled when she returned to their table. "Feeling better?"

She feigned astonishment at the question. "I feel fine."

His gaze ran over her face, a curious expression twinkling in the dark eyes. "You ought to get to bed early tonight. It's not wise to overdo in this climate."

Bridling at his commanding tone, she said airily, "A nice long soak in the tub and I'll be good as new—and ready to do the town." Two dark brows joined in a glower and, maddeningly, she heard herself explaining, "I'll probably be going out with Jack tonight."

The waitress brought their food, but as soon as she had left, Derek said, "That's not a good idea." The stern professor was back in his usual bullying form. Had he ever joked and teased her, or had she only imagined it? "You're tired, Terri. Take your long soak, but afterward go to bed and sleep. I'll explain the situation to Jack."

Her eyes flashed blue fire. "I can do my own explaining when necessary," she retorted haughtily. "And I don't need you to tell me what to do and with whom to do it when I'm not working."

He looked at her with an impatient frown, as if she were a spoiled brat having a tantrum. "Don't be childish, Terri. Not getting enough rest will affect your work." Then, as if that settled everything, he turned his attention to eating. After a moment, he looked up. "Also, I feel I ought to warn you that Jack is rather a ladies' man."

"Hah! It takes one to know one," she countered.

He looked at her with a detached sort of expression for a moment, as if he were making some kind of mental list. What was included in the list remained a mystery, however, and they finished their meal in silence.

Back in the car the silence continued. After a while the strain began to get to Terri. For some reason Derek's coldness bothered her even more than their heated verbal exchanges. What right did he have to treat her like this? And why, oh, why, was she allowing his moods to affect her own so drastically? It made her furious—so furious that, to her amazement, she felt hot tears pricking at her eyelids. Heavens, what was wrong with her? Maybe the climate
was
affecting her; she had never been a weeping woman. She despised females who cried at the drop of a hat!

Fighting down the lump in her throat, she squeezed her eyelids closed. A single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. Furtively, she brushed it away with the back of her hand.

In keeping with her rotten luck since arriving in Mexico, Derek chose that precise moment to glance in her direction. Determined not to cower like a whipped dog, she forced herself to meet his look.

The hard stubborn lines seemed to soften, and he drew a long breath that could have expressed sympathy or exasperation. Terri couldn't tell.

"Terri, any criticism I make of you is for your own good. I want to help you grow to your full potential." He reached out and took her hand. "Will you believe that?"

She looked at him in stony silence, as he pressed her captive hand against his knee. "I can help make you one of the most sought-after photographers in America if you will unbend that stubborn will of yours and let me guide you. You
are
interested in furthering your career, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," she snapped, steeling herself not to respond to the caressing touch of his fingers.

"Then you must trust me," he said softly.

She glanced at him quickly, but his face was closed, his eyes hooded. "It's difficult to put into words exactly what I mean," he went on. "You have to unleash your emotions, Terri, so that you can
feel
it. That's what people of every civilization since time began have had in common—love, passion—
feeling
. The racial memory exists in all of us. That's what I can help you to discover, if you'll let me." His fingers gently probed the back of her hand. "Let's call a truce, Terri."

His eyes had become soft and deep with mystery. She was drawn toward the seductive promise that she saw in those brown depths. She felt her will crumbling as something in her ventured dangerously toward the orbit of his spell. Oh, she knew his words had a double meaning. Even knowing that, a part of her could wish that there was only the present with no tomorrow for regrets.

But there was tomorrow—many tomorrows—and Derek Storm was a man who lived every day to the fullest. She was relatively certain that he had spent the previous evening with Margarite Lopez. Hardly more than twenty-four hours earlier, all of his very considerable practiced charms had been focused on another woman; he had probably spent the night with her.

It was true that being associated with him professionally could further her career. It was also true that he could ruin her career if he chose—which he might well do if she allowed him to seduce her and then toss her aside like all the women before her. When he tired of her, would he still be interested in helping her professionally? Further, would a few nights of ecstasy be worth the price—not only professionally but emotionally? She knew herself well enough to realize that she wouldn't be able to walk away from an emotional entanglement as easily as Derek could.

"You want to give in, Terri, I know you do," he continued in a husky voice. "And you won't be sorry—I can promise you that." Now the hooded look was gone; his eyes glowed triumphantly. There was no doubt that he thought he had won. No other woman had ever said no to him; why should she be any different? Well, she was!

She pulled her hand away, seeing irritation harden the dark centers of his eyes until they looked like nuggets of coal. He didn't like being opposed; he expected women to accept his domination.

"You ask me to trust you," she said bitterly. "Well, I trust you about as far as I would a copperhead!" She was suddenly shaking, the depth of her vehemence surprising even herself. "Do you know what you are, Derek Storm? You're a male chauvinist. They ought to do a psychological study on you. You're the classic example of the type. You
use
women! They're nothing but objects to you. Once and for all, Derek, I'm not interested in what you have to offer!"

With a sudden jerk of the wheel, he pulled the car onto the grass alongside the road, braking abruptly. Terri barely kept her head from hitting the windshield by quickly bracing her hands against the dash.

Stunned, she turned to look at him. His dark eyes burned into hers and his face twisted into such harsh angles that the transformation made him almost a stranger. Yet, even more frightening than his expression was the knowledge that she had driven him to the edge of some dark emotional precipice.

"So, I'm a male chauvinist, am I? Well, you, Terri, are the original ice maiden!" His lips twisted. At what instant his hands had taken hold of her, Terri didn't know. She was too dizzy with fright to think straight. "What does it take to puncture that solid wall of defenses you have erected around yourself?" he demanded with a vicious shake, his long fingers digging into her arms.

She wanted to cry out for him to stop hurting her; she wanted to pour out stinging insults. But shock and fear stayed her tongue. She merely stared at the triangle of his chest where his shirt was open, seeing sweat glistening on the dark curling hairs. She did not know if the pounding she heard was the sound of her own heart or his.

He pulled her closer, and she looked into the fire that was deep in his eyes. Defiantly, she tossed her head. "You t-talk about passion," she quavered. "But it's all a g-game to you. I am not a toy, Derek! I can't be wound up and set into motion at your whim!"