Ready for Marriage?

by Beverly Barton; Ann Major Anne Marie Winston

  The phone rang once, only to die before she could get to it.

  ‘‘Oh, Cash.’’ Her heart pounded in fright as she imagined his fatal encounter with a big cat, or maybe a snake or a crocodile that tore him to pieces.

  An animal screamed, and her stomach knotted. She sat up, brushing hot wetness from her cheeks. She’d been so mean to him. Why had she said such awful things?

  If only…

  Finally, she became so exhausted she sank into a nightmarish sleep, full of large reptiles, from which she didn’t awaken until dawn. When she blinked, glorious streamers of pink light streaked the whitewashed walls. The rain had stopped, and the jungle was mercifully silent.

  The early-morning air held a chill but she felt warm and safe, so safe and so warm, and at peace as she hadn’t in years. She stirred lazily, and when she did, her fingers brushed hot, solid, male muscle. Idly she traced the shape of a steely limb, savoring every sensation, before realizing it was a man’s arm draped proprietorially across her waist.

  Her eyes flew open. She saw a wall of bronze—broad shoulders and a dark, furred chest. She smelled his clean man scent.

  ‘‘Cash…’’

  ‘‘Good morning,’’ he said, his dark eyes alight and tender.

  ‘‘You’re alive.’’ Her smile was brilliant. ‘‘You came back. The big reptiles—I mean amphibians—didn’t eat you.’’

  ‘‘Will miracles never cease? You’re glad to see me.’’

  Vivian felt alive and very pleased he was there. ‘‘Don’t tease. I was terrible to you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’’

  ‘‘It’s okay.’’

  ‘‘How long have you been back?’’

  ‘‘A while. I couldn’t find Eusebio, so I tried to sleep in the Suburban. When the rain died down a little, I decided to check on you. You were having a nightmare.’’

  Her voice caught. ‘‘I nearly went out of my mind.’’

  ‘‘Me too. I wanted to be here with you.’’

  She swallowed.

  ‘‘Better now?’’ he drawled as his hand slid down her back.

  ‘‘Oh, Cash,’’ she breathed, throwing her arms around him. Suddenly she was too aware of her naked body snugged against his, of her nipples against his chest.

  ‘‘This is where I’ve wanted you since I first saw you, Aphrodite.’’

  She opened her eyes again and saw that his face was flushed and his eyes dark with desire. She knew that look, and she reveled in it. Her fear for him last night had taught her how much she desired him.

  He started to get up, but she ran her hands through his long, black hair, smiling when he shuddered with delight. Time seemed to stop. She closed her eyes and pressed her body into his.

  He went still, and for a long time she was afraid nothing would happen. Then she slid her body against his, and his breathing grew even raspier.

  ‘‘You’re sure about this?’’

  She nodded. Her body was wrapped by his. What guilt she felt was overpowered by her desire and the rightness she felt of belonging to him. Cash was special. She didn’t know why. He just was. She had to have him. If she didn’t, she’d regret it the rest of her life.

  His fingers touched her mouth and then brushed her cheek. She caught his hand and kissed his fingertips, one by one, tasting them, tasting him.

  ‘‘I’m just so glad you’re alive,’’ she said.

  ‘‘The danger was all in your imagination,’’ he said.

  Rolling on top of him, she straddled his lean, taut body. It was strange that she felt no shyness, that she felt so natural with him. Lowering her head, she started kissing him, letting her tongue lave his throat, his washboard middle, his hard arms.

  What if he were in the belly of a snake at this very moment? She was just so thrilled he was alive, so sure of her feelings for him that all doubt vanished.

  ‘‘I—I can’t wait much longer,’’ he muttered, stopping a moment to fumble with a plastic wrapper. He was putting on a condom to protect her, she realized. When he was done, she sighed as his hands closed around her buttocks. Lifting her and positioning her, he thrust upward, causing her to gasp a little when she felt him inside of her. He was hard, hot and male. He made her feel complete.

  She ran her hands over his arms. Her nipples brushed against his chest. His warm mouth nuzzled her ear.

  Then he began to move his body against hers, and she clutched his long black hair and whispered, ‘‘Don’t stop. Don’t ever ever stop.’’

  ‘‘You’re heaven,’’ he murmured. ‘‘I never thought I could feel like this again.’’

  ‘‘It’s the same for me.’’

  For a long moment he stared into her eyes. She felt so safe, so incredibly safe with him. Then he began to move faster and faster, and it seemed to her they’d always been lovers and would always be lovers. Her feelings mounted, and her world spun crazily out of control. She was on fire, exploding, and still he kept moving inside her, causing the explosions to go on and on until she felt like she was fainting and dying, and yet, letting go of needs and hungers that always before had terrified her.

  Not with him. She wasn’t afraid with him. He was different—kind, responsible, wonderful.

  He stopped, resting for a while. Then he began again, grabbing her hips hard and thrusting with such powerful force that she came again and again. Afterward, she went limp and began to weep, clinging to his neck.

  She placed her head beside his on the pillow and he brushed her damp hair out of her eyes. ‘‘It isn’t over. Not nearly,’’ he murmured, whispering love words in languages she did not understand.

  ‘‘I dreamed about this,’’ she said. ‘‘The first night…that’s why I decided to swim. Then you had to go and take off your clothes. And now here we are just like in my dream…me on top of you.’’

  He laughed. ‘‘It’s my turn to be on top.’’

  ‘‘I’m too tired.’’

  ‘‘Why, love? When I’m doing all the work.’’

  ‘‘How dare you call making love to me work?’’

  ‘‘Can I help it if I enjoy my work?’’ Laughing, he rolled them over and began to make love to her slowly. His lips suckled each nipple. Shuddering like a wanton, she came again and again, weeping afterward each time.

  ‘‘Why are you crying?’’ he whispered in a deep, concerned tone.

  ‘‘Does there always have to be a reason.’’ He was too wonderful. What had she done to deserve anyone so wonderful?

  ‘‘You’re getting ahead of me, wild thing,’’ he teased when she lay back down beside him, curled into a sensual, boneless puddle.

  ‘‘I’m embarrassing myself, that’s what I’m doing. I didn’t want you to know how much I wanted you.’’

  ‘‘I knew. I think that was always a big part of your appeal.’’

  She wrapped her arms around him and he entered her again. ‘‘You’re deliciously wet,’’ he said.

  This time he held nothing back. With a guttural cry he came, deep inside her, and she locked her legs around him and held him fast, never wanting to let him go.

  Afterward, she thought maybe he would make love to her again, but he just lay there holding her, stroking her back, while she combed his beautiful black hair with her fingers.

  She would have fallen asleep without a single guilty qualm, if only her cell phone hadn’t rung.

  She said, ‘‘Don’t answer it.’’

  ‘‘We can’t hide forever,’’ he said.

  It stopped ringing, and she snuggled closer to him, but after a minute or two it rang again.

  With a groan he got up. More than anything, she wanted to call him back to bed, to hold on to this precious time they’d shared.

  ‘‘Hello, Isabela,’’ he murmured casually before falling silent for a while. His deep, melodious voice grew concerned. ‘‘Yes, I’m afraid you’d better send a wrecker as well as a cab for us. Eusebio ran off last night, and the Suburban won’t start. Yes, yes, we’re fine…don’t worry
about us. She’s fine.’’

  Vivian cringed guiltily.

  ‘‘I’ll put her on,’’ he said, ‘‘so she can give you the necessary directions.’’

  ‘‘No! No, I can’t possibly talk to her now!’’ Vivian whispered urgently.

  He leaned over and kissed her brow. ‘‘I’m sorry, but we can’t avoid this.’’

  When she nodded, he handed her the phone.

  Vivian took the phone, which felt icy to the touch.

  ‘‘Isabela, querida—’’

  Eleven

  In spite of the heat in the back seat of the cab of the wrecker, Vivian’s shaking hand at her throat felt cool and lifeless. Her head ached from the strain of her tense conversation with Isabela.

  She turned and stared out the back window. Cash’s head and broad shoulders were in her line of vision. He was working even harder than Eusebio, who had finally returned, and the other laborers to attach the Suburban to the wrecker. Every time he braced a brown hand against the sides of the vehicle and shoved, his muscles strained, causing Vivian’s heart to beat strangely.

  Guilt over Isabela coupled with her desire for him had her totally confused.

  She needed to talk to him. She needed to sort this out.

  Other than the blue sky, the dense humidity and the countryside seeming cleansed and somehow greener, there was barely any sign there had been a storm. The limestone earth had soaked up the deluge like a sponge.

  She leaned forward and caught a glimpse of her flushed, wide-eyed face in the mirror. Unless she confessed, would Isabela, who trusted her, even see? Vivian touched her cheek in wonder. Were all traces of the passion she’d felt this morning erased, at least from the surface? She knew her heart, however, would never be the same.

  Vivian wiped her perspiring brow and turned away to stare at the jungle. Isabela didn’t deserve to be hurt.

  She felt torn too, because her feelings for Cash ran deeper than any she’d ever felt for anyone. She would never forget him. Her hands knotted the thick black fabric on her knees. No way did a divorcée who was a college dropout deserve a man like him.

  Finally the men finished and Cash tipped each of them. Eusebio climbed into the wrecker’s truck, and Cash slid unsmilingly into the back seat with her. Like her, he kept to his side of the cab and stared out his window, his stiff posture and the tight line of his mouth telling her he wasn’t any happier with himself than she was with herself.

  ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ she whispered, once they were speeding toward the outskirts of the village. ‘‘So terribly sorry…for ruining everything.’’

  He turned. His face was dark, his green eyes brilliant and bleak. Suddenly the quiet felt ominous in the cab.

  ‘‘Will you ever forgive me?’’ she asked. ‘‘Will she?’’

  ‘‘Is that really the issue?’’

  She swallowed. Turning, she stared at the blur of tropical green foliage. She put her hand to her perspiring temple and felt the hammer of her pulse beneath her fingertips. She felt as dazed as a sleepwalker waking from a bad dream. And yet…

  ‘‘I don’t understand,’’ she said at last.

  ‘‘Don’t you?’’

  She bit her lip again. Everything looked the same as yesterday—the dense foliage, the stone albaradas, these walls that had no cement, and yet the familiar village felt alien and unreal. The giant thatched huts that look liked beehives rushing past them were as quaint as ever. So were the Mayan women she taught, who were wearing their immaculate white, embroidered dresses and standing in front of their houses to wave goodbye to them as their two-vehicle parade passed.

  ‘‘You want to just pretend it never happened, don’t you,’’ he said. ‘‘We never saw each other naked. We never kissed. We never told each other the stories of our lives.’’ His voice deepened. ‘‘We never made love…. You even want to act like we don’t feel the way we do.’’

  His tension and his unhappy, shadowed eyes made her ache for the kind and gentle lover who’d been so wonderful to her in bed. But he belonged with a woman from his own class—someone richer, more accomplished and sophisticated.

  ‘‘I wish it had never happened,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Damn you for that lie.’’

  She knotted her fingers. When he reached for her hand, she pulled it behind her and held it there, keeping it balled into a tight fist.

  For a while they drove in a silence that grew so thick and oppressive, she was almost glad when he spoke again.

  ‘‘What are those three-foot-high metal racks over there?’’ he murmured, his voice astonishingly soft and deep, the husky sound sending a chill through her because it was so impersonal now.

  ‘‘Over there!’’ he persisted gently when she stiffened, refusing to be drawn into conversation. ‘‘The ones that look like rusting bedsprings?’’

  When she still didn’t answer, he nudged her arm. ‘‘Can’t we even talk to each other about safe subjects?’’

  Against her will, her body responded to the warmth of his hand. Instead of showing it, however, she scooted as far from him as she could.

  ‘‘The rusting bedsprings,’’ he repeated. ‘‘What are they?’’

  He was driving her crazy. She wanted to ignore him. She had to ignore him. Stubbornly, she thrust her chin out and bit her lips.

  ‘‘We didn’t commit murder. We made love,’’ he said. ‘‘And now—’’

  She didn’t want to talk about now. There was no now. Better to talk about the henequen plantations.

  ‘‘All right. All right.’’ Her voice caught and she made a little choking sound. ‘‘That’s where they used to dry the henequen,’’ she mumbled, looking before lowering her head and closing her eyes. ‘‘As if you could possibly care.’’

  ‘‘I care.’’

  ‘‘Don’t.’’

  After that, she only spoke to him when Cash asked her a direct question about the big houses in ruins or the ancient machinery on the henequen plantations.

  Finally, she blurted, ‘‘Quit asking me stupid, tourist questions. This is all wrong—you and me, together… Last night… Us… Trying to act like it meant something when you’re supposed to marry Isabela.’’

  ‘‘It’s you I want,’’ he said gently.

  ‘‘You can’t change your mind just because…’’

  When he wouldn’t stop shaking his head, she moaned. ‘‘I’ll hate me forever for ruining her chances with you.’’

  ‘‘Why? It just happened. You came into my bedroom and stripped. You were beautiful—like a dream—but it wasn’t a dream. I like you as a person. You changed my life.’’

  ‘‘Right. Blame me.’’ She was being crazy, difficult, impossible, but she couldn’t help it. Her life had turned upside down, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  This was all her fault. She should have checked on that water pipe the night he arrived. It took weeks, dozens of conversations to get anything repaired down here. She’d known that.

  ‘‘Isabela’s wonderful, and I’ve betrayed her,’’ Vivian said. ‘‘I’m a thousand times worse than Julio! I can’t believe I’m this horrible person! Can’t you pretend this never happened and go back to courting her?’’

  ‘‘Then it would be me who was worse than Julio.’’

  ‘‘You can do it. You’re a man.’’

  ‘‘Great,’’ he snarled. ‘‘I’ve fallen for a crazy woman.’’

  ‘‘She’s everything you said you wanted. We discussed this. You said you could plan out your life.’’

  ‘‘And then I met you—crazy, wonderful you.’’

  ‘‘Last night was just sex.’’

  ‘‘Then why are you so damn mad about it? And why do I feel the way I do about you?’’

  ‘‘We’ll get over it.’’

  ‘‘This conversation is getting ridiculous,’’ he said.

  ‘‘I was supposed to play fairy godmother. I was supposed to get you to like her more. I don’t have a clue what to do
next.’’

  ‘‘We run away together and make love for a week in a thatched hut by the sea until we can’t do it another time.’’

  ‘‘No!’’

  ‘‘Then we tell Isabela the truth.’’

  She moaned.

  ‘‘Then I’ll tell her, since you’re so afraid of her.’’

  ‘‘I’m not afraid. I’m—’’

  ‘‘You’re confused,’’ he said gently, edging closer. ‘‘And so am I.’’

  When his hand touched her arm, she shuddered.

  ‘‘No, I have to tell her myself,’’ she said. ‘‘And since I’m going to tell her the truth, I might as well level with you.’’

  Finally knowing what she had to do, she turned toward him, and his dear, dark, handsome face struck her like a blow. Feeling sick and empty even before she spoke, she blurted it out anyway.

  ‘‘Isabela bribed me to entertain you. She said if I got you to propose, she’d take me with her when she moved to the States. That’s why I came.’’ She hesitated. ‘‘I don’t know why I slept with you. But I know I’m not right for you. It was just something crazy that happened because I’m scared of rep—amphibians.’’

  ‘‘Do you have to talk so damn much?’’

  ‘‘All I wanted was an airplane ticket and enough money for a fresh start.’’

  ‘‘Really? So all that fire and light and love was just for money?’’

  It was a ridiculous lie. Anybody could see through it, but her stubborn streak took over, and she stuck to it. She sighed.

  ‘‘I guess I got carried away.’’

  ‘‘You damn sure did. So—all you want now is a ticket home and money for a fresh start?’’

  She locked her eyes on his dark face and nodded.

  He drew a slow breath. ‘‘Well, you were worth every penny. If Isabela doesn’t come through with the ticket, I damn sure will.’’

  When the driver of the wrecker drove into the carport, Cash and Vivian had long since quit speaking. Miguelito, wearing wet swimming trunks, ran to greet them. Concho leapt up, barking, his tail thumping excitedly.

  ‘‘Why didn’t you come home, Mommy? Tía was screaming and crying. Papacito even called the police.’’ Miguelito smiled. ‘‘But the police were too busy to come.’’