The Unexpected Honeymoon (14 page)

Actually, she thought, as Carlos's warm presence abutted her, she needed space. Having him close only made her head worse.

The shoreline stood only a few feet away, but it was downwind enough to feel like miles. Setting her drink on a nearby table, she made her way past the tide line to the water's edge. Damp sand slid between her toes reminding her of the other night, and Carlos's lesson about the tides. How different this trip might have been if she hadn't agreed to help him that night. If, instead of insisting on enjoying her wedding dinner, she'd hid in her room.

She heard Carlos making his way through the sand. No surprise there. Her departure had been abrupt. “Is something wrong,
querida?
”

“A little headache, is all.”

“See? You are tired. Would you like me to take you back to your room?”

So he could make her feel like the only woman in the world for another few hours? Tempting, but after witnessing Paul and Linda's courage, she wasn't in the mood for indulging in fantasy. “I'll be fine in a few minutes,” she told him.

His hands settled on her shoulders, his fingers gently kneading. “If you change your mind,” he whispered as his thumbs pressed the muscles on either side of her spine, “I know a way to help you relax.”

Temptation won for a moment, and her eyes fluttered shut. She would miss this, his touch. Unless...

“What would you do if I told you I wanted to stay?” she asked.

“You just did,
querida.
”

“No, I mean stay at La Joya. Take you up on your offer to be the wedding coordinator.”

The hands stopped moving. “I—”

That's what she thought. “Don't worry,” she said, pulling away, “I wasn't serious. We both know my staying would completely mess up your plans.”

“Plans?”

“Sure. I mean, you can't keep having a fling with your wedding coordinator, can you? Your predecessor already took care of that. Far better I leave and never come back. This way you don't have to worry about any messy loose ends, right?”

Carlos looked utterly confused. “What are you talking about? I never had any plans. You were always leaving at the end of the week.”

“Exactly.” Her head started to pound. Maybe she was overtired after all. She was being childish and surly when he'd done nothing but be honest from the start. Wasn't his fault she fell for him. “Forget I said anything. I'm being overly emotional. Paul and Linda...”

“Did something happen?”

Something, all right. She looked him in the eye. “She's dying.”

“Who?”

“Linda. She has lung cancer. Paul told me this morning. That's why he went to all this trouble. For one last memory.”

The color drained from his face. He muttered something in Spanish. Soft, but from the sharpness, Larissa knew it was some kind of obscenity.

She turned her attention to the horizon. “Doesn't seem fair, does it? Both so young and in love.”

“Poor bastard would be better off if he never fell in love in the first place.”

Larissa's insides died a little. He really believed that, didn't he? It broke her heart.

Spying a half-buried seashell, she dug it free with her big toe. Immediately the tide sent the shell tumbling end over end. She scooped it up, letting the sharp edges dig into her palm.

“Growing up, I used to watch the women getting their fittings,” she said. “No matter who they were or what they looked like, the minute they put on the dress, they transformed. They were beautiful. Everyone would gather around and fuss over them.”

In a flash she was back in her grandmother's living room. A poor, chubby, motherless girl surrounded by white satin and sequins. “It was like they'd become princesses. I always figured that someday I'd put on a white dress and become a princess, too. Then I'd live happily ever after. Like in the movies.

“Except it's not about the dress, is it?” she asked, turning to him. “It's about what the dress represents. What the whole wedding represents. Loving the person with all your heart.”

“Love isn't the answer, either.”

“I hate that you think that way.” Then again, that was the whole crux of their problem, wasn't it? She'd chuck all the romance in the world to have him think differently.

“Why shouldn't I?” he asked her. “I loved Mirabelle. I loved her with all my heart and what did it mean? Nothing. Same with Paul and Linda. So he moved heaven and earth to give her this recommitment ceremony. She's still going to leave him. This whole celebration means nothing. Their love means nothing.”

As he spoke, the words flew faster and faster, like angry spittle hurling into the air, his tone growing so sharp it frightened her. He kicked at the sand, sending the grains flying, and that seemed to take some of the anger out of him.

“Like I said I told you, it's better to not love at all.”

Maybe he was right. God knew anything would be better than the way Larissa's heart felt right now.

She looked up, hoping he could read the emotion in her eyes and understand what she was trying to tell him.

“Unfortunately, you're too late.”

No...
Carlos froze. She couldn't love him. He clamped down the thrill rising in his chest. “But in the
cenote,
you told me... You said that you weren't looking for a relationship.”

“Apparently my heart had other ideas.”

Maldita.
What did he do now? Back at the top of the beach, a mariachi band had started playing. The partygoers would be dancing. Dancing to chase away the darkness. How many times had he done the same during his marriage? Too many and to what end? Larissa might see Paul's gestures as noble and romantic, but they weren't. They were foolish and painful. They could dance all they wanted, but Linda was still going to die. Paul will have failed. Like he failed Mirabelle.

Like he would eventually fail Larissa.

Icy fingers clawed at his insides, warning him to back away. He scrambled for purchase. “I told you from the start, Larissa. I don't have anything left to give. I can't love you. I can't.”

Her eyes, her gorgeous, soulful eyes searched his face. “You say that, but the man I've been with the past few days... There's life inside you, Carlos. I've seen it. In the
cenote,
on the cruise.”

Did she have to look so hopeful? Carlos couldn't stand to see the light in her eyes. “Those were field trips.” He'd been using the same excuse all week, only the words sounded hollow this time around. “I wanted to make sure you enjoyed your visit.”

“And sleeping with me? Was that another guest service?”

“No.” That was him being selfish. “We agreed—”

“Stop telling me what we agreed!” Something sharp smacked his cheek. She'd thrown a seashell at his head. The ragged edge nicked the skin; he could feel the saltwater sting. “I don't want what we agreed. Not anymore.”

“I can't give you anything more!” he shouted at her. Didn't she realize, what she wanted would only end up in heartache? “I was honest with you from the very start. I told you the truth.”

“Did you?” she asked, calling him on his excuse. It scared him how she was starting to see through his facade. He hated the anger in her eyes, and the sadness. Seeing her in pain ripped a hole in his chest. If only they could go back to last night. When her eyes shimmered with happiness. Perhaps, if he tried, he could make her forget.

He reached for her.
“Querida...”

“Don't!” She pushed him away before he could touch her. “I'd rather deal with reality.”

She stomped away, leaving him standing alone.

 

CHAPTER TEN

“A
CCORDING
 
TO
 
OUR
 
RECORDS
, Señorita Boyd, you're not scheduled to check out until tomorrow. Was there a problem?”

Larissa rested her sunglasses on top of her head. “No problem,” she replied. “Just decided it was time to go home.”

The clerk's expression said her excuse wasn't fooling anyone. By this point, the entire hotel had to know about her and Carlos. If not the affair, then yesterday's argument. They hadn't exactly been discreet.

Oh, well, she thought, handing over her credit card. She attracted looks checking in. She could deal with a few heading out.

The clerk typed a few keystrokes, then frowned.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

“Uno momento, señorita. Por favor.”

It was Larissa's turn to frown while he disappeared behind the rear door. Hearing him switch to Spanish made her uncomfortable. “Guess they don't like when you try to leave early,” she said to the couple checking in beside her.

Clearly newlyweds, they were too wrapped up in each other to hear. Watching them whisper and exchange secret caresses made her stomach hurt. Twenty-four hours ago that had been her and Carlos. Maybe she was being stupid, taking off like this. Theirs was never supposed to be more than a few-day fling to begin with. Why let stubbornness stand in the way of their last twenty-four hours?

Because a few-days fling wasn't good enough anymore, that's why.

The rear door opened. Spying the cuff of a black suit jacket, Larissa's heart stopped. She thought for sure she wouldn't see Carlos again. After their argument on the beach, she took refuge in her room and while she hoped and hoped he'd knock on her door, he didn't.

Another reason not to extend her stay. Even if her heart could stand being around him one last day, Carlos clearly agreed the fling had ended.

What hurt the most, though, wasn't the fact that she'd developed feelings for the man, or the fact he'd walked away. It was the certainty in her heart that if Carlos had let her in, if he'd allowed himself to be close to her, that they could have had something truly spectacular. The kind of relationship she'd been searching for.

The door opened wider. The cuff became an arm, followed by a torso. Jorge.

Her heart sank. Did she really think Carlos would want to deal with her?

The assistant manager said a few quick words in Spanish to the clerk and stepped to the desk. “You're leaving us a day early, Señorita Boyd.”

“Afraid so, Jorge. Manhattan calls.”

Sober eyes met hers. “I'm sorry.”

“Me, too,” she replied. “But sometimes these things can't be helped.”

After a couple silent beats, she nodded toward the computer. “Is there a problem?”

“Since we weren't expecting you to check out until tomorrow, we haven't had a chance to go over your bill. With the credits and changes Carlos made during the week, we want to make sure the charges are accurate. It will only take a moment or two.” He rattled off a series of keystrokes, moved to hit Enter, and paused. “Are you sure we can't convince you to stay through tomorrow?”

Larissa shook her head. “I think I've stayed long enough. Don't worry, I promise when I give you all an online review, I won't mention our eight-legged friend. I know how Carlos likes his five-star reviews.”

“He likes to know people were happy.”

That he did. “Maybe too much.”

“Look, I don't know what happened on the beach yesterday, but whatever happened, I'm sure Carlos didn't mean—”

“Actually,” Larissa interrupted. “I'm pretty sure he did.” Last night's silence confirmed the message.

“You know, he was a different person this week. More like his old self than I've seen in a long time. Not since...”

“Mirabelle? It's okay,” she told the man. “Carlos told me about her.”

“He did?”

Flashing back to the night on the launch, she felt her cheeks grow warm. “I might have pushed a little.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” He dropped his voice. “I was with him when he found her. He was inconsolable.”

Apparently she was going to get an explanation anyway. “He must have loved her very much.” The words stung to say.

“
Si,
maybe too much,” Jorge replied. “It scarred him when she left.”

And so he drew the curtains around his heart to keep from loving too much again. That's what Larissa was afraid of.

“Hopefully someday his scars will heal,” she said.

“I had hoped that's what I was seeing this week.”

It was exactly what her stubborn heart didn't need to hear. Hope was hard enough to shake. Thank goodness she had sunglasses with her to hide their moisture. “Is the bill settled?” she asked, slipping them in place.

“
Si.
I'm printing you a copy now.”

“Great. Could I ask one more favor? Could you make sure Paul and Linda Stevas get this when they check out?”

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the note she wrote last night apologizing for leaving their ceremony so abruptly and wishing them as many happy days as possible.

“I'll make a note on their file,” Jorge said.

“Thank you.”

Time to leave. A few more hours, and paradise would be a distant memory. Kind of already was, she thought as she started toward the door.

“You're going to leave without saying goodbye.”

This time she didn't need to see a dark suit. Carlos's voice washed over her like a deep dark wave. He stood midway between the reception desk and the lobby, breathing heavy, as though he'd rushed. Was he the reason for the delay? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jorge disappearing back into his office.

“I'm pretty sure we said everything we had to say yesterday afternoon,” she replied. Or in his case, didn't say. “I didn't think you'd care if I cut my trip short.”

“Of course I—” He stopped short. Saying the word might imply feelings. “I'm sorry if my behavior led you to believe there was more to our relationship than there was. It wasn't my intention to hurt you.”

“I know,” Larissa replied. “But you did.” See? She could be honest, too. “Don't worry, though. I bounce back. I'm nothing if not resilient.”

“Querida...”

“Don't.” Larissa stiffened. As far as she was concerned, he lost his right to use any endearment yesterday. “
Querida
is for a man who's brave enough to admit his feelings.”

“This isn't about whether I'm brave enough.”

“Oh, I know what you say it's about. You made your point very clear.”

Over at the concierge desk, a pair of heads turned to look at them. She lowered her voice. “I do have to wonder, though. When exactly was it you decided your heart was too dead to have feelings for me. Was it when you spontaneously kissed me in the
cenote
or after you took me sailing in the moonlight? I'm curious because both of those are pretty sentimental activities for a guy who's dead inside.

“Goodbye, Carlos.” That's what he wanted, right? A proper goodbye? Now he had one.

She got about three feet when one final thought occurred. “For the record, I didn't fall in love with you because of the moonlight. I fell for the lonely man I saw living inside you.”

* * *

“Doesn't matter,” Carlos whispered as he watched her march out the door. The end result was the same. “You still left.”

“There's still time to get her,
primo.
” Jorge appeared at his shoulder. “I could stop the taxi.”

To what end? A twenty-four-hour postponement? She'd still leave. “It wouldn't make a difference.”

“But you could—”

Carlos held up his hand. “Señorita Boyd is gone. Better to focus on the guests we still have.”

* * *

“Next time I decide to go on a luxury vacation by myself, shoot me. Better yet, shoot me anyway.” She was already miserable.

“Here.” Delilah nudged Larissa's upper arm with a bowl. “This will make you feel better.”

“What is it?”

“Brownie sundae. Don't tell Simon, though. It's the last brownie.”

“I'll buy Simon a new batch.” Larissa offered the brunette a watery smile. God bless good friends. Unable to bear going home to an empty studio, she'd been curled up on Delilah's sofa since her plane landed. “I'm sorry to intrude on you two. I figured since I crashed at Chloe's when Tom dumped me...”

“You'd give me a turn?” Delilah smiled and handed her the bowl. “No worries. You know you can crash here anytime. If I had a dollar for every time Chloe knocked on my door in the middle of the night, Simon and I could buy every ad agency in town.”

“Honestly, I don't know how she survived all those back-to-back breakups.”

“By stuffing her face and having a good pout. Since she was never very emotionally invested, she usually bounced back pretty quickly. God forbid she and Ian break up. She'll be inconsolable.”

“Like that'll ever happen,” Larissa muttered. “To either of you.” It was clear both her friends had found lasting love.

“True, but if it did, I imagine she'd be as messed up as you are. Forgive me for saying this, but you're more upset over this Carlos than you were when you and Tom broke it off. Granted, you're not crying the way you did then.”

“I think I'm too sad to cry. I feel more numb than anything. Like someone stomped on my heart.” Was this how Carlos felt after losing Mirabelle? Probably worse. No wonder he was so afraid to put himself out there again.

Understanding the man's position did not make her feel better. “What am I going to do?”

“I'm afraid there's not much you can do. You can't make a man interested in you.”

“That's just it,” Larissa said. “He is interested. I know he feels the same way I do, but he's too scared to let himself feel anything. Oh, Lord, I sound like one of those letters in an advice column, don't I? Desperate in Manhattan.”

“Dramatics aside, are you sure this isn't a rebound thing or the atmosphere getting to you?”

“Of course I'm sure,” she said, stabbing the brownie with her spoon. Best friend or not, Delilah's question annoyed her. “Look, I know you and Chloe think I'm some kind of romantic ninny, but what I felt when I was with Carlos.... I can't explain. It's like something inside me clicked into place.”

And there'd been a hole inside her since the moment she walked away on the beach. “It wouldn't matter if he was in Mexico, Manhattan or Mars. I don't feel whole without him.”

She looked up at her friend. “Is it possible to find your soul mate only to have him not want you?”

“That's not really how soul mates work.”

“That's what I was afraid you'd say.” Appetite gone, she set the sundae aside. It was going to take a lot more than brownies and ice cream to make her feel full again. “So what am I going to do? And please don't say, give myself time, because I'll scream.”

“Okay, I won't. I will, however, tell you to give
him
time.”

“Excuse me.”

Delilah reached across her to take the sundae off the end table. “Do you remember when I first fell in love with Simon? How he insisted he and I couldn't be together?”

Larissa remembered. A terrible trauma in Simon's past had him believing he wasn't good enough to be with Delilah.

“Well, my mother passed along some advice. She told me that if Simon was really my soul mate, he'd find his way to me. And he did. Took a while, but he did. If you remember, same thing happened with Chloe and Ian.”

“But you and Simon worked together. You might not have been in a relationship, but you still saw him every day. And even Chloe and Ian were in the same city. Carlos is in Mexico, for crying out loud. What am I supposed to do, take the wedding coordinator job?” The idea crossed her mind more than once. That's how crazy she was about the man; she would relocate to the other end of the continent to be with him.

“Why don't we wait a couple weeks before trying something so extreme?” Delilah suggested.

“You think I'm being dramatic again.”

“No, I think you're truly in love, and it stinks. Those weeks Simon and I were apart were some of the worst weeks of my life. You have to have faith that he'll miss you as much as you miss him, and that the loneliness will motivate him to do something.”

Terrific. Her happiness rested on Carlos's ability to cope with loneliness. Larissa had a feeling she'd be waiting forever.

* * *

Wasn't heartburn supposed to clear up after a few days? It'd been almost three weeks, and the horrendous burning ache behind his breastbone hadn't eased up one bit. He shook out a handful of antacid tablets. Surely there was a limit to how many of these a person should take, as well.

“Those won't help,
primo.
” Jorge walked into his office without knocking, an annoying habit that seemed to have increased over the past two weeks. “Antacid doesn't cure stupidity.”

“I need it to survive your bad jokes,” Carlos groused.

“No offense, but are you sure you're surviving?”

Carlos tossed back the tablets with a wince. Other than the heartburn, and a few bouts of insomnia, he was surviving perfectly fine. Business was doing well, the last of Maria's mistakes had been rectified, and every time he closed his eyes he saw Larissa walking out the door. What could be wrong? He pinched his brow. “Did you want something?”

“A letter arrived today that you should read. And before you ask, no, it is not from New York.”

“What makes you think I was going to ask?” He knew better. When Larissa walked out the door, she walked out for good. He knew from the very start he wouldn't hear from her again.