Pictures of You

by Barbara Delinsky

  “Jacques and I met last year at a conference in Paris. He was one of the keynote speakers; we spent quite a bit of time talking. Pierre is Jacques’s friend. I’ve never met him before.”

  “Pierre makes me very uncomfortable. He seems so angry and bitter. I wonder why?” she thought aloud, half regretting her forwardness, half hoping that Roberto might have some explanation to alleviate her nagging uneasiness in Pierre’s presence.

  “Jacques mentioned something about an unhappy marriage. Relax … I doubt you have anything to fear from Pierre.” Again the smirk.

  “I’m sure,” she retorted, annoyed at the transparency of her feelings. Moving to safer ground, she went on. “What about Tom and Paul. How do you know them? Certainly they’re not business associates!”

  “They go to school in Boston. I happen to spend a good deal of time there.” A slight evasiveness had crept into this response. “Do you like them?” His interest seemed to be genuine.

  “They’re terrific. Tom is quite a character. What a great sense of humor. Paul could probably become a best friend … if I lived in Boston,” she responded enthusiastically. This last brought an even deeper grin to Roberto’s face, altering his jaw line enough to jolt Eva by its familiarity. Impulsively she burst out, “Do you know that there is a resemblance between you and Paul? When I first saw him I knew there was something familiar in his expression. Now I see it … the jaw line especially, but also the nose and the cheekbones. His coloring is a little lighter, but you could be brothers!” The words had flowed freely, spontaneously, as Eva had herself seen the similarity.

  “We are.” Short and simple as was his style, Roberto made his statement smugly and then awaited Eva’s reaction.

  Beneath its curls Eva’s forehead creased where her eyebrows drew together in a look of incomprehension. Roberto’s head flew back in a burst of unconstrained laughter.

  “But the names … he’s so young … he made no mention …” she stammered, trying to justify her puzzlement.

  “Paul is my half-brother. We have the same mother. Because of the age difference and the fact of different fathers continents apart, we don’t have the intimacy that years together in a family might create. But we’ve become much closer recently. I like Paul. I’m glad that you do.” The genuine feeling for Paul apparent in Roberto’s words and facial expression touched Eva. For whatever he was or was not worth as a ladies’ man, she suspected that he had a genuine streak of warmth for his family, past and future.

  The glint of humor had returned to Roberto’s eyes. “So you think I’m an old man, do you?”

  “By all means,” Eva gave a backward denial, even as she admired anew the touch of gray at his sideburns. Her fingertips ached to reach over and explore the silvery ends, but she restrained herself. Fearing that the conversation was again taking on too personal an overtone, she changed the subject.

  “My questions. For starters, where is a hotel? I walked all over this afternoon with no luck in finding it.”

  “You’re here,” he grinned, appreciating her sudden attempt to lead the conversation to safer lines.

  “This is no hotel,” she argued, beginning to resent the amusement he found at her expense, “and I need some place to stay tonight. I’m really tired.”

  With unexpected impatience Roberto restated the fact. “This is as close as you’ll come to a hotel in Terra Vermelho. It is my home. The other men are quartered in other homes. Actually, Paul was to have stayed here with me, but I rearranged things when you so conveniently, or inconveniently as the case may prove to be, fell into my lap.” A smile flittered across his lips briefly. “You’ll stay in my room, as you did this afternoon. Yes, I went to my own room after a long trip, only to find my bed already occupied.”

  As understanding slowly dawned, Eva felt sharp anger that he had not explained all this sooner. He went on before she could voice her objections.

  “My housekeeper, Maria, rightly assumed that you were my guest when you repeatedly mentioned my name. She was not expecting a woman, though, and unfortunately jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

  “I’ll say!” Eva interjected defensively. “So she showed me to your bed and then very diligently ushered you up as soon as you came in. Very accommodating.” Sarcasm threw a look of disdain onto her features. “I’m sure she’s used to that sort of thing!”

  “If I didn’t know that you were so recently—and tragically—widowed, I’d say you were jealous,” he returned her sarcasm with his own, a wicked gleam in his eye.

  Not knowing, much to her own consternation, an appropriate response, Eva chose once again to ignore his suggestion. “My luggage … I had two bags. Where are they?”

  “In my … ah, your room. They were put away after you arrived. Paul just brought them upstairs.”

  Eva felt momentary panic as her mind jumped further on. Uncannily, Roberto remained a step ahead of her.

  “No, I won’t be sharing your bed this night, as much as I might wish it. You know, you do look beautiful.” His stance shifted suddenly as he straightened and approached her. “I think you must be fully recovered by now,” he smirked, reaching up to remove the eyeglasses which had served their purpose.

  So he had seen through her again, Eva knew. What power did he have over her, she wondered with increasing alarm, this roguish adventurer?

  His hand returned to finger the gentle curls that cascaded around her ear lobe. He now stood within inches of her, his eyes gazing down at her in gentle caress. Slowly and seductively his gaze slid from her rounded eyes across her cheekbone and around the sweep of her jaw to her moist lips. His eyes had made passionate love to her, and she gasped almost imperceptively at the excitement they evoked.

  Then, the hand that had teased her hair dropped abruptly to his side as he stepped back from her, the only evidence of any emotion the slight irregularity of his breathing. The trance was broken. Eva’s head jerked back as though suddenly released from a binding grip, though there had been none. Devastated by his rejection and frustrated by unfulfilled desires, Eva steeled herself against any words that might come.

  Taking a deep breath, a look of anger now in his eyes, he growled under his breath, low and husky, “The widow is a siren! A damned siren! I’m stuck with a bewitching siren!”

  Eva’s own anger and hurt could be controlled no longer. In an instant she swung her hand up to deliver a solid slap to his face. Its impact took him by surprise, but his reflexes were sharp enough to capture her wrist in its descent, and, jerking it behind her back, he joined it with the other, thus pinioning her stiffened body against the lean, hard contours of his. Distraught as she was, Eva couldn’t miss the musky smell of him as he pressed her closer to him. Her head was tilted back to look at him as he growled slowly through gritted teeth.

  “You are a nuisance and a temptation which I don’t need. I won’t have my expedition sabotaged by some sex-starved black widow. You can cast your web elsewhere. But, so help me, if you hurt anyone here, you’ll regret having ever come to Brazil. Do you understand?” He tightened his arms sharply, as though to force her compliance. “Do you understand? And don’t pull that pathetic teary-eyed routine on me again. I don’t make the same mistake twice.”

  The last he added at the appearance of tears brimming on Eva’s eyelids. As he thrust her away from him, she fought to restrain both the tears and the knot of nausea in the pit of her stomach, brought on by his sudden violence.

  But the instinct for survival was strong in Eva. She would not let herself be put down by this brute. Eyes sparkling now with anger and determination, she lashed back at him.

  “I have every right to be here! My place was duly reserved and my supplies paid for. I see no difference whether a woman fills it or a man, although you seem to be hung up on that issue. Furthermore, I have no designs on anyone here. I haven’t the emotional strength for that right now. But you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about. And what makes you think that you or someone else here has anything I wa
nt? I find you despicable!”

  Not quite sure how far to push her luck, Eva paused in time to notice a subtle softening of Roberto’s expression, and the return of a light to eyes that moments before had been fathomless black pits. His faint smile held a touch of sadness, which tore at Eva’s heart in spite of what she had just said. In that instant she would have run to comfort him in her arms, as he had done earlier for her. The venom had evaporated as quickly as it had gathered, though for the life of her, Eva didn’t know how.

  Roberto’s voice retained a note of that sadness. “As long as we understand each other, Mrs. Jordenson. Now, it’s late. I’ll show you to your room.”

  “I can find my own way, thank you.” Eva hurried to the door with a quick “good night” over her shoulder, and made her way down the hall to the stairway.

  Once safely in her room, she leaned back against the closed door to catch her breath. What an extraordinary man, she had to admit. To have the capacity for such tenderness, such sensuality yet such extreme violence within one body. Even through the remnants of anger she had to admire his finer qualities. If only, she pondered—if only, what? She stopped herself. If only, what? What could she be thinking of? As she had told him so convincingly, she was here for the experience of the expedition and nothing else. She had to believe that!

  Looking around the room, now lit by a simple but lovely hand-crafted ceramic lamp mounted on the wall at the head of the bed, Eva noticed her bags, which had been neatly placed beside the low table. She also saw that fresh water now filled the pitcher, and fresh towels awaited her use. The bed had been turned back and the pillows fluffed. Eva smiled; Maria had certainly been at work, angel that she was.

  Quickly she undressed, washed up, and put on a simple pale blue nightgown, sleeveless, scoop-necked, and knee-length. How inappropriate it was here, she mused. The window had been lowered against the cool night air, so Eva needed no further covering as she sorted through the clothes in her bag, making a small pile of those to pack in her knapsack. Her knapsack! She had left it downstairs! With a groan she realized that she would have to return to the kitchen to get it, preferably without alerting Roberto to her stupidity.

  A sharp knock resounded on the hard wood door. Assuming it to be one of two people, she slowly opened it a crack, cautiously peering out while keeping herself hidden behind it. Roberto stood in the hall, her knapsack in one hand, her eyeglasses—had she really forgotten those, too?—in the other.

  “You’ll be needing these, I believe.” His eyes did not stray from hers, or so she thought, as she timidly reached with one hand through the door’s narrow opening for the things he held.

  “Let me help you.” He ignored her outstretched arm, pushing his way into the room before she knew what was happening. He dropped the two items on the bed, then turned toward Eva, whose hand was still on the doorknob, now trembling slightly with indignation. Barefooted as she was, it was a long way up to Roberto’s eyes, and she became acutely aware of his towering frame before her. She controlled her voice as she began quietly.

  “Thank you for bringing my things up. Now, would you please leave? I have packing to do.” The imploring look in her eyes brought him several steps closer. Eva suffered renewed humiliation as his eyes scored her length, taking in the soft curve of her breast and the outline of her waist and hips through the thin material of her shift. Lifting one hand, he slipped his fingers under the lace-edged shoulder strap, sampling the material with the inside of his fingers as their backs gently touched her skin. An electrifying shudder reverberated through her, as she fought back against the reactions she seemed powerless to control. But it seemed her fears were premature.

  “Nice,” he drawled huskily, before his eyes returned to hers and his tone became suddenly menacing, “but don’t bring it tomorrow.” It was a command, not a request. And with it he was gone. Eva stood stunned at the open door for several minutes, before she composed herself enough to shut it.

  Aware that sleep would be a long time coming that night, she painstakingly went over and over her suitcase, choosing the few items she thought most appropriate to bring. Once decided, she then found that only half of them fit into the knapsack, so she began the process of elimination all over again. She finally settled on two pairs of blue jeans, one to wear and one to pack, several T-shirts, the necessary underthings, and a heavy pullover sweater. For want of something better, she would wear sneakers, though she had to admit that Paul’s arguments in favor of hiking boots made sense. Water over the dam, she sighed, as she stowed a towel, soap, and the minimum of makeup needs into the pack.

  Standing back, she realized that there was no way she could get any camera equipment into the knapsack. Knowing full well that she risked Roberto’s wrath, she proceeded to repack the duffel that usually held her camera equipment. She would need everything in it—her tripod film, flash, lenses, and various accessories—at one point or another, though she would keep the camera itself around her neck. She was able to eliminate only the film she had already exposed. Taking a deep breath, she prayed that the case wouldn’t really be all that noticeable. It had a broad shoulder strap, and she was well used to carrying it. This crucial decision having been made, she put everything else back into her large suitcase, turned out the light, and climbed into bed.

  Even then, she lay awake for what seemed to be hours. As her mind reviewed the amazing events of the day, she momentarily relived each of the experiences and their emotions. Perhaps it was this past excitement, perhaps it was anticipation of tomorrow, perhaps it was no more than the cafèzinho, which had keyed her up. When exhaustion finally engulfed her, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  It seemed mere moments later that Eva felt a movement at her shoulder. Shrugging it off, she turned deeper into the pillow … before bolting upright in alarm at the sudden realization of where she was and that there was someone with her. In the faint bluish light which was quickly replacing the dark of the night, she saw Roberto sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “You startled me!” she gasped breathlessly, trying to get her bearings amid the lingering grogginess.

  He nodded understandably, his hand remaining on her shoulder for a minute too long, and he informed her in a low tone, “It’s time to get up. Maria will have breakfast ready in five minutes.” Then, mercifully, he left the room without another word, permitting her the privacy to dress.

  Breakfast was a quiet, peaceful affair, as Eva readily let her persisting drowsiness cushion her. She felt in no rush to completely wake up, and rather enjoyed the eggs and bacon from her semidazed state. Roberto was faintly amused by her condition, though he made no effort to alter it. He talked periodically to Maria in low, fluent Portuguese, relieving Eva of any responsibility for conversation. Whenever Maria passed behind Eva in the course of her work, she put a gently reassuring hand on the latter’s shoulder; Eva returned the gesture with a smile, grateful for the comfort as well as for the most satisfying breakfast. When Eva did occasionally raise her eyes to Roberto over the rim of her coffee cup, she encountered a pleasant, if impersonal, expression. Even through her stupor she guessed that it was the impending embarkation that had put him in relatively good humor.

  It was only when breakfast was done and the two passed through the living room to pick up their packs that this good humor was tested. As Eva bent to lift her two bags, the knapsack and the duffel, Roberto’s gaze caught the latter. With a flicker of impatience in his eyes he faced her.

  “I said you could bring only one bag. You have two.”

  Eva had prepared herself well the night before and now, fully awake, she advanced her case.

  “I only have one—my knapsack. This duffel holds the tools of my trade much as your pack donkeys carry the tools of yours. I’m used to carrying it and can easily handle both. Without this duffel, my whole purpose for this trip is lost. And I can’t very well leave the few clothes in my knapsack behind, can I?”

  She had psyched him out perfectly, she knew,
as she silently congratulated herself. Although her touch of humor at the end had caused him to raise a suggestive eyebrow, he had responded to reasoning as she had somehow known he would. Instinct told her that this man was a level-headed businessman, steady, practical and straightforward; it was only in his personal affairs, she winced, that he was so unpredictable.

  Conceding defeat, he shrugged. “They’re your shoulders,” he grumbled, half to himself, as he led the way out of the house.

  The early morning sky was the palest shade of blue, a bare suggestion of things to come; the sun, not yet clearing the mountains, painted a thin golden line across the eastern ridge. Eva followed Roberto down the cobblestoned streets, her sneakers a vast improvement on the high-heeled sandals she had worn yesterday. They turned this way and that, passing from one street into another. Roberto walked several paces ahead and didn’t look back to check that she kept up.

  Eva was surprised by the amount of activity already underway in the small village at such an ungodly hour. Each man and woman they passed greeted Roberto enthusiastically, and he returned each salutation with a warm comment, often a personal acknowledgment. He was both well known and well liked here, Eva concluded, and he seemed in his element as he moved through the narrow streets.

  Just as Eva began to wonder whether there really was a point of departure, they turned a corner into an enclosed square, and in the center were gathered the remaining members of the group, the donkeys Roberto had promised, and a short and swarthy man similar in appearance to so many of those she had seen yesterday from the taxi. Numerous boxes, bedrolls, canvas-wrapped tools and other utensils were anchored securely atop each donkey. Eva wondered if this packing had been Roberto’s handiwork; he looked so fresh and alert, she couldn’t imagine his having been up for several hours already, whereas the small Brazilian, as agreeable as he appeared, did show some signs of wear and tear. Eva suspected, smiling, that given a choice he would be standing over another cafèzinho with his compatriots.