Mexican Nights

by Jeanne Stephens

  His lips left hers to find the sensitive skin at her neck, and she smothered a sob of despair at her own weakness. There was no hiding the fact that her body was responding to his lips and, hands with a wild clamoring for more.

  "So you are not interested in what I have to offer,"

  Derek whispered with a breathlessness that told her he was deeply affected by their kiss. Then, with a motion that left her feeling oddly bereft, he drew away from her. "If I didn't have a previous engagement, I would show you just how interested you are. I would teach you what real passion is, Terri." Putting her firmly aside, he started the motor and, with squealing tires, pulled onto the highway.

  His withdrawal made her feel abruptly cold and desolate. He had a previous engagement! Passion by appointment! How grossly calculating and crass! Had he felt anything at all? Or was he only proving, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he had power over her if he chose to use it? And she had fallen into the trap with a vengeance! Oh, how could she have been so spineless and weak?

  Seeing him from the corner of her eye—broad shoulders, muscular arms glistening with perspiration in spite of the car's air conditioning, eyes fixed on the distant horizon, dark brows lowered broodingly—Terri knew that she had never before met a man with such physical presence, a masculinity that was so basic as to be almost animal. No matter how many times she denied it—to herself and to him—she was far too susceptible to his magnetism. She closed her eyes and chewed her bottom lip despairingly, sinking helplessly against the car seat. Shattered by what had happened, she did not trust herself to speak during the remainder of the drive to the hotel.

  How could she cope with someone who used his male attractions so ruthlessly? And love had nothing to do with it. She didn't even like him and yet, from the first day, he had aroused desires that no other man had ever touched in her.

  Lost in her tangled thoughts, she wasn't aware that they had reached the hotel entrance until the doorman opened her door. Derek tossed him the keys. "I'll be going out again later," he said.

  Still feeling dazed, Terri climbed out and walked toward the lobby. Derek caught up with her and took her arm. "Quite a day we've had, eh, Terri?" he queried softly.

  Her blush of confusion brought a half-smile to his lips.

  Pulling her arm from his grasp, she hurried ahead of him toward the line of elevators, gratified that there was a clutch of people among whom she could hide herself. She sensed somehow that Derek had dropped behind in the lobby. Unable to stop herself, she glanced over her shoulder.

  Through the crowd waiting for the elevator, she saw a beautiful, aristocratic face surrounded by a cloud of smooth, shining black hair. A clinging knit dress revealed rich, voluptuous curves that drew every male eye in the lobby. Dark eyes dazzled as the vision of feminine loveliness stepped forward with a smile.

  "Darling, I've been waiting for ages!" The voice was low and sultry. And the man who caught her in his arms, lifting her off her feet, was Derek Storm.

  Chapter Four

  Did Derek Storm try to be high-handed and cruel, Terri wondered, or was it done without thinking? Was his ego so huge that he didn't even notice when he was hurting the women who came in contact with him? But how many of those women were stupid enough to stay around for more?

  Why was she still here? Terri flopped down on her bed, knowing she had to think about her situation whether she wanted to or not. How had she allowed herself to be put on the defensive with him? What had come over her in the car when his touch and his kiss had, for that short intense period of time, been the only realities in her world? Why had she felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach when he dumped her in the lobby and ran into Margarite Lopez's arms?

  She strove for objectivity. Being alone in a foreign country, where she did not speak the language, was enough to make a woman susceptible to the first attractive man who came along—especially if she admired his work and wanted to keep the assignment as his photographer.

  When the assignment was completed, everything would look different. Derek Storm would be just another conceited writer, she would have added a considerable feather to her professional cap, and new and exciting assignments would be awaiting her attention. Whatever Derek Storm thought he could accomplish during the next three weeks, she would use them to further her career. Only an idiot would throw away a chance like this, and that was why she was still here.

  When there was time off, she would spend it with the attentive Jack Ledbetter. Jack. Terri flopped over on her back and stretched lazily. Now there was a man who would know how to treat a woman—gently and deferentially and lovingly. Oh, yes, she had recognized that admiring gleam in his blue eyes when he looked at her. Yet she was certain Jack would never force his attentions on a woman, unlike someone else she could name.

  She closed her eyes and had begun to relax when the telephone rang. Terri reached for the receiver and brought it to her ear.

  "I'm sorry our afternoon outing had to be canceled." Jack sounded tired, too.

  "Never mind. Your boss dragged me all the way to Teotihuacán, so I wasn't left twiddling my thumbs."

  "Then you're not mad?" He sounded relieved.

  "Of course not, silly. I know when the oracle speaks you have to obey." Her tone was sympathetic.

  "Then how about going out tonight? I met someone today who told me about a terrific guitarist who's playing at one of the hotels."

  Terri closed her eyes, wishing only to crawl under the covers of her bed and go to sleep. "Will Mike be going with us?"

  "He has other plans." There was a suggestive note in the words. Was he hinting that he'd told Mike to make other plans?

  Terri brushed the question aside. It might be fun to do the town with Jack. "Give me an hour to get ready."

  "Fine." He sounded cheerful, no longer tired. "I'll pick you up at eight thirty."

  "All right. See you then."

  As Terri ran her bathwater, she experienced a moment of uncertainty. What had Derek meant when he called Jack a ladies' man? She wasn't up to fighting off another octopus tonight.

  Oh, she was making too much of the remark. Derek probably couldn't stand the idea that any woman might prefer Jack to him. It was sour grapes, that's all. If things got sticky, she could manage to keep Jack at arm's length. He was too considerate to get ugly about something like that.

  She added bubble bath, undressed, and stretched out in the warm water. Sighing contentedly, she tried to picture the blond, handsome Jack as a chivalrous knight, kissing her hand, holding her on the dance floor as if he thought she were fragile china, depositing her back at her room with a chaste kiss.

  But another face kept intruding rudely into her daydream. A dark, stern face with thick brows that could lower and come together in fierce disapproval— deep, liquid-brown eyes that could caress or send out fiery darts. Terri moved sensuously in the warm bath, feeling Derek's hands moving over her again, and her lips burned with remembered kisses. She closed her eyes and smiled softly at the lovely glow that had come into her body at the memory. A wickedly enticing image flashed into her mind—an image of Derek sharing the bubble bath with her. She almost wished he were there, their bodies touching, his hands doing what they could do so well.

  No, she didn't wish that! She sat up suddenly, grabbing the bar of soap, and began to scrub her neck and arms vigorously. She was going out with Jack— sweet, gentlemanly Jack. They would have a lovely time together. She tried to picture Jack sharing her bubble bath, but somehow she could not even begin to imagine it. And why should she? Jack was a good friend. That's what she needed right now—not an arrogant barbarian who put women on a level only slightly higher than a well-trained dog.

  She dressed in a soft blue silk dress with a flared skirt and prim Peter Pan collar with the top button undone to show the single strand of pearls that matched the pearl studs she wore in her ears. Jack arrived, in a suit the same color as her dress, and looked her over approvingly. With a warm smile, he said, "Look at us. We ma
tch."

  "It's a good omen," Terri said brightly. "We like the same colors, so we probably have a lot of other things in common as well."

  "Hmm, right," he said with a teasing quirk of an eyebrow.

  Since it was only a few blocks away, they decided to walk to the hotel where a well-known Mexican guitarist was performing nightly. Jack had made reservations and the waiter led them to a table near the raised platform where the floor show would be performed.

  "In addition to the guitarist, who's the real attraction," Jack told her when they were seated, "there's supposed to be a pretty good female vocalist, too." The waiter hovered nearby until Jack asked Terri, "What would you like to drink?"

  "I've always wanted to try tequila."

  When their order arrived, Jack raised his glass to hers and said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "To Mexican nights." Terri responded with a smile.

  She looked about her at the gay, laughing couples at surrounding tables. It was her first real night out in Mexico City and she resolved to make it an unforgettable experience.

  After that things ran together for Terri. Smoky bars with tinny music playing; weaving arm in arm with Jack through crowded streets; laughing at Jack's funny stories—and hadn't she danced with a fat Mexican man in one of those hole-in-the-wall places where they had stopped for a drink?

  It was all rather mixed up. Not that Terri was really drunk. She had never been drunk in her life. She was only shedding a few of those inhibitions Derek had accused her of having. She was enjoying herself with a vengeance. And then it was very late and she was tired and, with Jack's arm supporting her, they strolled back to their hotel.

  With a wide flourish, he held his thumb against the elevator up button. They stepped inside and, when the elevator started up, Terri lost her footing and stumbled against Jack with a helpless giggle.

  On four, they got out and Terri said defiantly, "I'm not sleepy yet! The night's young. I want to dance some more."

  Jack grinned happily. "We've got a tape player in our suite."

  Terri frowned. "Won't Mike be asleep?"

  They had reached the room and Jack took a key from his pocket and, after several tries, fitted it into the lock. "We've got two rooms—a bedroom and a sitting room. With the door closed, old Mike won't hear a thing. He wouldn't anyway. When he goes to sleep, it would take World War III to wake him."

  He laughed uproariously at his own joke and Terri joined him. He got the door open and stood back for her to enter. "Come into my parlor," he intoned wickedly.

  Inside, Terri began to feel slight uneasiness. Hurriedly, she pushed the feeling aside. This was to be an unforgettable night. She'd better remember that. If she kept forgetting, it wouldn't be unforgettable—right?

  Jack was shifting some glasses about on a low coffee table. "I guess we're out of anything to drink. I'll call down—"

  "No," said Terri. "I'd rather dance. Where are your tapes?"

  She found a slow, dreamy tune and put it in the small tape player that sat on a lamp table next to the couch. Then Jack, looking suddenly solemn, was taking her hand and pulling her into his arms. At first, she held herself stiffly; but Jack didn't seem to notice, and eventually she began to relax and drift sleepily with the music. Hazily, she realized that both her arms were around Jack's neck and both his arms were around her waist. She smiled, her head resting against his cheek. It was so warm and comforting in Jack's arms.

  "I'd like to dance all night," she murmured drowsily.

  "There are a lot of other things we can do besides dancing," Jack whispered huskily, and when she looked into his face, his blue eyes were so warm and friendly that she lifted her lips to his cheek.

  Somehow he moved so that his mouth took the kiss. His lips felt warm and gentle—welcoming but not demanding. "Nice," murmured Terri, who was very near to being asleep on her feet.

  Jack took this as an invitation for an encore, but this time his kiss was more urgent, and when Terri tried to pull away, he held her locked in his arms and the kiss became definitely demanding.

  Finally, she managed to pull away. "Hey, let me come up for air," she said with a breathless little laugh.

  Jack pulled her back into his arms. "Don't be coy," he muttered. "You knew there was more on my mind than dancing when you came in here."

  She turned her face away. "No—no, I didn't—"

  An angry little frown creased his handsome forehead. "Come on, Terri, cut the act."

  Suddenly, she was shoved down on the couch, and Jack was on top of her, his lips squashing hers. What had happened to the gentlemanly Jack Ledbetter? Some knight! As Terri tried to twist away from him, slow fury built in her. How dare he hint that she had asked for this! Weren't there any chivalrous men left in the world?

  Finally, she couldn't take any more, and, pushing his head away, she let out a piercing scream.

  "What's wrong with you? Keep quiet, will you—you want to wake the neighbors!"

  Terri shoved furiously at his dead weight. "Let me up, you drunken oaf!" Her flailing hands hit several targets—his jaw, his shoulders, his ear.

  Trying to protect himself with his upraised arms, he lurched to his feet. Terri jumped up and ran for the door. Then, remembering her purse, she turned and scooped it up from the coffee table.

  Jack had regained his balance and was trying to smooth his blond hair back into place. "Terri, come back here! You're acting like a madwoman!"

  She had gained the hall and sped along the silent corridor to her own room, trailing her purse by its long strap behind her. At her door, as she was searching through her purse for her key, Jack caught up with her. He looked sheepish and worried.

  "Stay away from me, Jack Ledbetter!" she warned.

  "Shh! It's two o'clock in the morning."

  "Thanks for the bulletin," Terri sniffed, at last seeing her key at the bottom of her purse. Her fingers closed around it.

  "Terri," Jack said in a low, earnest voice, "I don't know what happened back there. I'm sorry—"

  "What, in God's name, is going on out here?" The voice thundered in the corridor like a sonic boom, and Derek Storm, a bathrobe tied unevenly around his long body, stepped out of the room across the hall.

  His dark hair was tousled by sleep and he was barefoot. In spite of his fierce scowl, he looked so comical that Terri started to giggle.

  Derek's piercing gaze passed from Jack to Terri, and he looked more disgusted by the second. At last, Terri had managed to get the key in the lock. Still giggling, she opened the door and, staggering inside, she flopped across the bed.

  Vaguely, she heard voices in the hall for a few moments, and then Derek pushed his way into the room; unfortunately, she had neglected to shut the door securely.

  He turned on a table lamp and stood over her bed, glaring down at her sprawled figure. "You're drunk," he accused.

  "Don't be silly," she said between giggles. "I was never more sober in my life." Then, abruptly, she turned serious. "I was never so humiliated in my life! I thought Jack Ledbetter respected me."

  Roughly, Derek began to unbutton her dress.

  She blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

  "Sit up," he commanded, jerking her into a sitting position. "I'm putting you to bed. Obviously, you're not capable of doing it yourself." He took hold of the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head. Then she sat on her bed in her half-slip and bra, her hair tousled and falling into her face. She lunged for a pillow and held it in front of her.

  "Your research assistant is a—a lecher!" she flung at him.

  "Hardly!" he retorted scornfully. "He merely acted upon the signals that he claims you'd been throwing out all evening."

  "That's a lie!" Then, overcome with the giggles again, Terri fell back across the bed, clutching the pillow to her breast. "You should have seen him, Derek. I hit him, and he looked so surprised!"

  Muttering darkly, Derek tugged off her shoes and began to remove her panty hose.

  Too exhausted a
nd tipsy to care very much, Terri lay like a limp rag and rambled. "No, you're right. Jack isn't really a lecher. He just had a little too much to drink. Did you ever notice that cute little dimple in his chin? Actually, he's kind of sexy—" She giggled as Derek jerked at one leg of her panty hose. "Why are you looking so grim, Dr. Storm? You aren't jealous, are you?"

  With a growl, he ripped the clinging panty hose off her feet, twisting one of her ankles painfully in the process of freeing that foot from the hose.

  "Ouch!" Furiously, Terri kicked out and, since he was bending over her, her foot landed in his chest.

  Flinging the panty hose aside, as well as the pillow she was clutching, Derek grabbed hold of her, pressing her back against the bed. "You little vixen!"

  Suddenly frightened, Terri squirmed futilely in his hard grip. But he had her effectively immobilized, one knee pinning her legs down, his hands holding her arms above her head.

  A sob of frustration caught in Terri's throat. "I—I wish I'd let Jack seduce me. He—he, at least, is gentle and knows how to treat a lady."

  "When you start acting like a lady," Derek snarled, "maybe you will be treated as one."

  Then, with a harsh cry, his mouth came down on hers in a merciless assault that sent an electric shock sizzling through her body, all the way to her toes. In her mind she fought to resist him, but her wayward body was flooded with a tide of sensations that was stronger than her will. She felt herself being pulled along by the undertow that was like the rush of a collapsing dam.

  With a despairing capitulation, she returned his kiss, her mouth opening, inviting, her arms closing around his neck to pull him nearer, her slender half-naked body shuddering in his arms.

  He lifted his head to ask huskily, "Do you still wish you were with Jack?"

  "No," she admitted in a weak haze. She had smiled, talked, drunk, played her part in the desperate pretense that her evening with Jack was the beginning of a romance—but all the time there had been one thought at the back of her mind, the memory of the moments in Derek's arms that afternoon. Her flirtation with Jack—for she knew that she had flirted— had been a frantic attempt to cover up more dangerous thoughts.