by Diana Palmer
“It wasn’t so bad, Diego,” she said softly, because there was pain in his face. “Really it wasn’t. And he was the sweetest baby—”
Diego got up abruptly. “I have phone calls to make. Please excuse me.”
Melissa watched him, aching for him. His stiff back said it all. She realized then that it wasn’t so much her predicament as missing the birth of his son that had hurt him. She felt guilty about that, too, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
Diego went into the study and closed the door, leaning heavily back against it. He couldn’t stand the anguish of knowing what she’d suffered because of him. If only he could talk to her. Bare his heart. Tell her what he really felt, how much she and the boy meant to him. He wondered sometimes if he was still capable of real emotion. His past had been so violent, and tenderness had no place in it. He was only now learning that he was capable of it, with his child and even with Melissa, who more and more was becoming the one beautiful thing in his life. The longer they stayed together, the harder it became for him to hide his increasing hunger for her. Not that it was completely physical now, as it had been in the very beginning in Guatemala. No. It was becoming so much more. But he was uncertain of her. She changed before his eyes, first resentful, then shy and remote, and now she seemed oddly affectionate and teasing.
That, of course, could be simply a kind of repayment, for his having taken care of her and Matt and given them a home when she’d needed time to heal. Was that it? Was it gratitude, or was it something more? He couldn’t tell.
But perhaps it was too soon. She didn’t trust him enough to tell him about Matthew. When she did, there might be time for such confessions.
Melissa went back into the living room with Matthew and spread the memory cards out on the floor. They were into the second round before Diego came in again. He’d taken off his jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. It was unbuttoned in front, and Melissa’s eyes went helplessly to the hair-covered expanse of brown muscle.
He noticed her glance and delighted in her response to him. No woman had ever made him feel as masculine and proud as Melissa. Her soft eyes had a light in them when she looked at him that made his body sing with pleasure. Desire was the one thing he was certain of. She couldn’t begin to hide it from his experienced eyes.
“Play with us, Papa!” Matthew called, inviting the tall man down onto the carpet with them.
“We’ll make room for you,” Melissa said, smiling softly. She moved toward Matthew, making a space beside her where she was lying on her stomach and lifting cards.
“Perhaps for a moment or two,” Diego agreed. He took off his shoes and slid alongside Melissa, the warm, cologne-scented length of his body almost touching hers. “How does one play this game?”
They explained it to him and watched him turn over two cards that matched. Matthew laughed and Melissa groaned as he pulled them near him and made a neat stack.
He smiled at Melissa with a wicked twinkle in his black eyes. “I was watching from the doorway,” he confessed. “Although not so much the cards as—” his gaze went to her derriere, so nicely outlined in the tight jeans “—other things.”
She flushed, but her gaze didn’t falter. “Lecher,” she accused in a whisper, teasing.
That surprised and delighted him. His gaze dropped to her smiling mouth, and he bent suddenly and brushed his lips over hers in a whisper of pressure.
Matthew laughed joyfully. “Bobby’s mama and daddy used to kiss like that, only Bobby said his mama used to kiss his daddy all the time.”
Diego chuckled. “Your mama is not up to kissing me, niño. She is weak from her accident.”
Melissa glanced at him mischievously. “Matt, will you go to the kitchen and bring me a cold soft drink, please? And be careful not to open it, okay?”
“Okay!” He jumped up and ran from the room.
Melissa smiled at Diego wickedly. “So I’m too weak to kiss you, am I, señor?” she murmured with soft bravado, enjoying the dark, glittering pleasure she read in his faintly shocked eyes.
She rolled over, pushing him gently onto the carpet. He chuckled with open delight as she bent over him and kissed him with a fervor that dragged a reluctant groan from his lips before his arms reached up and gathered her against him.
“Too weak, am I?” Melissa breathed into his hard mouth.
His hand contracted in her soft, wavy blond hair, and the bristly pressure of his mouth grew rough as he turned her gently and eased her down onto the carpet. She could feel the fierce thunder of his heartbeat against her breasts as her arms curled around his neck and she sighed into his hungry mouth. Her blood sang at the sweet contact. He lifted his head abruptly, and she saw the savage desire in the black eyes that stared unblinking into hers.
“¡Cuidado,” he murmured. “You tempt fate.”
“Not fate,” she whispered unsteadily. “Only you, señor.” Her hand slid under his shirt, against his body, her fingers spearing into the dark hair that covered his warm muscles. He stiffened, and she sighed contentedly. “Well, if you don’t want to be assaulted, keep your shirt buttoned.”
He laughed, thrown completely off balance by the way she was acting with him. “Dios, what has become of my shy little jungle orchid?”
“She grew up.” Her soft eyes searched his. “You don’t mind…?”
He pressed her hand against his chest. “No,” he said quietly. “Do what you please, little one. So long as you do not mind the inevitable consequence of such actions as this. You understand?”
“I understand,” she whispered, her eyes warm with secrets.
As she spoke, she drew one of Diego’s hands to her body and sat up gracefully. Holding his eyes, she pressed his palm against her blouse where there was no fabric to conceal the hard thrust of her body.
His breath sighed out as his hand caressed her. “Is this premeditated?” he asked roughly.
“Oh, yes,” she confessed, leaning her head against his shoulder because his touch was so sweet. “Diego—”
He drew his hand away. “No. Not here.”
She looked up at him. “Not interested?” she asked bravely.
His jaw clenched. “Sweet idiot,” he breathed. “If I held you against me now, my interest would be all too apparent. But this is not the game we need to be playing at the moment.”
She cleared her throat, aware of where they were. “Yes. Of course.” She smiled, avoiding his eyes, and turned over again as Matt came rushing back into the room with her soft drink. She opened it after thanking the laughing little boy. Then sighing, she turned back to the game.
Diego lounged nearby, watching but not participating. The look in his dark eyes was soft and dangerous, and he hardly glanced away from Melissa for the rest of the evening. But his attitude was both curious and remote. He seemed to suspect her motives for this new ardor, and she lost her nerve because of it, withdrawing into her shell again. There were times when Diego seemed very much a stranger.
Matthew was put to bed eventually. Melissa kept her expression hidden from Diego but felt her knees knocking every time he came close. She wished she knew if her forwardness had offended him, but she was too shy to ask him. While he was bidding Matthew good-night, she called her own good-night and went into her room. She locked it for the first time since she’d come to the apartment, and only breathed again when she heard his footsteps going down the hall. To her secret chagrin, the steps didn’t even hesitate at her door.
On Saturday, Melissa and Joyce spent the entire day buying clothes and having their hair done. The colors she pointed Joyce toward were flamboyant and colorful, bringing attention to her lovely figure and making the most of her exquisite complexion.
“These are sexy clothes,” Joyce said, her misgivings evident as she tried on a dress with a halter top that clung like ivy to her slender body. The color was a swirl of reds and yellows and oranges and whites, and it suited her beautifully. “I’ll never be able to pull thi
s off.”
“Of course you will,” Melissa assured her. “All you really need is a little self-confidence. The clothes will give you that and improve your posture, too. You’ll feel slinky, so you’ll walk like a cat. Try it and see.”
Joyce laughed nervously, but when she got a look at herself in one of the exclusive boutique’s full-length mirrors, she blinked and drew in her breath. It was as if she suddenly felt reborn. She began to walk, hesitantly at first, then with more and more poise, until she was moving like the graceful West Indian woman she was.
“Yes!” Melissa laughed, clapping her hands. “Yes, that’s exactly what I expected. You have a natural grace of carriage, but you’ve been hiding it in drab, loose clothing. You have a beautiful figure. Show it off!”
Joyce could hardly believe what she was seeing. She tried on another outfit and a turban, and seemed astonished by the elegant creature who looked out of the mirror at her.
“That can’t be me,” she murmured.
“But it is.” Melissa grinned. “Come on. You’ve got the clothes. Now let’s get the rest of the image.”
She took Joyce to a hairstylist who did her hair in a fashionable cut that took years off her age and gave her even more poise, drawing her long hair back into an elegant bun with wisps around her small ears. She looked suddenly like a painting, all smooth lines and graceful curves.
“Just one more thing,” Melissa murmured, and took her friend to the cosmetics department.
Joyce was given a complete make-over, with an expert cosmetician to show her which colors of powder to have mixed especially for her and which lipsticks and eye shadows and blushers to set off her creamy, blemishless complexion.
“That is not me,” Joyce assured her image when the woman was finished and smiling contentedly at her handiwork.
“Poor Apollo,” Melissa said with a faint smile. “Poor, poor man. He’s done for.”
Joyce’s heart was in her big eyes. “Is he really?”
“I would say so,” Melissa assured her. “Now. Let’s get my wardrobe completed and then we’ll get to work on the menu for a dinner party Monday night. But you can’t wear any of your new clothes or makeup until then,” she cautioned. “It has to be a real surprise.”
Joyce grinned back at her. “Okay. I can hardly wait!”
“That makes two of us!”
Melissa still had a little money in her own bank account, which she’d had Diego move to Chicago from Tucson. She drew on that to buy some new things of her own. She had her own hair styled, as well, and opted for the makeup job. She tingled with anticipation and fear. Diego wasn’t the same easygoing man she’d known in Guatemala. He was much more mature, and his experience intimidated her. If only she could get her nerve back. She had to, because he seemed determined not to make the first move.
By the time she and Joyce finished and went back to the apartment, it was almost dark and Melissa was limping a little.
“You’ve overdone it,” Joyce moaned. “Oh, I hope all this hasn’t caused a setback!”
“I’m just sore,” Melissa assured her. “And it was fun! Wait until next week, and then the fireworks begin. Don’t you dare go near the office like that.”
“I wouldn’t dream of shocking Apollo into a nervous breakdown,” the other woman promised. “I’ll go home and practice slinking. Melissa, I can never thank you enough.”
Melissa only smiled. “What are friends for? You gave me the pep talk. The least I could do was help you out a little. You look great, by the way. Really pretty.”
Joyce beamed. “I hope that wild man at the office thinks so.”
“You mark my words, he will. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Melissa let herself into the apartment. Mrs. Albright had the evening off, and it was a shock to find Diego and their son in the kitchen with spicy smells wafting up from the stove.
Diego was wearing Mrs. Albright’s long white apron over his slacks and sports shirt, and little Matthew was busily tearing up lettuce to make a salad.
“What are you doing?” Melissa burst out after she’d deposited her packages on the living-room sofa.
“Making dinner, querida,” Diego said with a smile. “Our son is preparing a heart-of-lettuce salad, and I am making chili and enchiladas. Did you and Joyce have a good time?”
“A wonderful time. My goodness, can’t I help?”
“Of course. Set the table, if you please. And do not disturb the cooks,” he added with a wicked glance.
She laughed softly, moving to his side. She reached up impulsively and brushed a kiss against his hard cheek. “You’re a darling. Can I have the van Meers and the Brettmans and Apollo and Joyce to dinner Monday night?”
Diego caught his breath at her closeness and the unexpected kiss. “Little one, you can have the boy’s club wrestling team over if this change in you is permanent.”
“Have I changed?” she mused, her pale gray eyes searching his as she clung to his arm and smiled, encouraged by his smile and the softness in his dark eyes.
“More than you realize, perhaps. The leg, it is not painful?”
“A little stiff, that’s all.”
“Papa, something is burning,” Matthew pointed out.
Diego jerked his attention back to the heavy iron skillet he was using, and he began to stir the beef quickly. “The cook had better return to the chili, amada, or we will all starve. Dessert must wait, for the moment,” he added in a tone that made her toes curl.
“As you wish, señor. She laughed softly, moving away reluctantly to put the dishes and silverware on the table.
It was the best meal she could remember in a long time, and dinner brought with it memories of Guatemala and its spicy cuisine. She and Diego talked, but of work and shopping trips and how much Diego had enjoyed the trip to the zoo with Matthew, who enthused about seeing a real lion. For the first time, there were no arguments.
When the little boy was put to bed, Melissa curled up on the sofa to watch a movie on cable while Diego apologetically did paperwork.
“This is new to me,” he murmured as he scribbled notes. “But I find that I like the involvement in Apollo’s company, as well as the challenge of helping businessmen learn to combat terrorism.”
“I suppose it’s all very hush-hush,” she ventured.
“Assuredly so.” He chuckled. “Or what would be the purpose in having such a business to teach survival tactics, hmm?”
She pushed her hair away from her face. “Diego…how do you think Apollo really feels about Joyce?”
He looked up. “No, no,” he cautioned, waving a lean finger at her with an indulgent smile. “Such conversations are privileged. I will not share Apollo’s secrets with you.”
She colored softly. “Fair enough. I won’t tell you Joyce’s.”
“You look just as you did at sixteen,” he said softly, watching her, “when I refused to take you to the bull ring with me. You remember, querida? You would not speak to me for days afterward.”
“I’d have gone to a snake charmer’s cell to be with you in those days,” she confessed quietly. “I adored you.”
“I knew that. It was why I was so careful to keep you at arm’s length. I succeeded particularly well, in fact, until we were cut off by a band of guerrillas and forced to hide out in a Mayan ruin. And then I lost my head and satisfied a hunger that had been gnawing at me for a long, long time.”
“And paid the price,” she added quietly.
He sighed. “You paid more than I did. I never meant to hurt you. It was difficult knowing that my own lack of control had led me to that precipice and pushed me over. I should never have accused you of trapping me.”
“But there was so much animosity in our pasts,” she said. “And you didn’t love me.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “I told you once that my emotions were deeply buried.”
“Yes. I remember. You needn’t worry, Diego,” she said wearily. “I know you don’t have anythi
ng to offer me, and I’m not asking for anything. Only for a roof over my head and the chance to raise my son without having to go on welfare.” Her pale eyes searched his hard face. “But I’ll gladly get a job and pull my weight. I want you to know that.”
He glared at her. “Have I asked for such a sacrifice?”
“Well, you aren’t getting any other benefits, are you?” she muttered. “All I’m giving you is two more mouths to feed and memories of the past that must be bitter and uncomfortable.”
He got up, holding his paperwork in one clenched fist. He stared at her angrily. “You build walls, when I seek only to remove barriers. We still have a long way to go, querida. But before we can make a start, you have to learn to trust me.”
“Trust is difficult,” she retorted, glaring at him. “And you betrayed me once.”
“Yes. Did you not betray me with Matthew’s father?”
She started to speak and couldn’t. She turned and left the room, her new resolve forgotten in the heat of anger. They seemed to grow further apart every day, and she couldn’t get through to Diego, no matter how hard she tried.
Perhaps the dinner party would open a few doors. Meanwhile, she’d bide her time and pray. He had to care a little about her. If not, why would the past even matter to him? The thought gave her some hope, at least.
Chapter Nine
The one consolation Melissa had after a sleepless night was the equally bloodshot look of Diego’s eyes. Apparently their difference of opinion the night before had troubled him as much as it had her. And until the argument, things had been going so well. Was Diego right? Was she building walls?
She dressed for church and helped Matthew into the handsome blue suit that Diego had insisted they buy him. She didn’t knock on the door of Diego’s room as they went into the living room. He was already there, dressed in a very becoming beige suit.