“Callida has made an impression on Vistarians in her short time here,” Nicolás said.
“I guess,” Peter said with a half laugh, half exhalation.
“We met at Las Piedras Grandes, didn’t we?” Nicolás asked him. “At the opening ceremony for the mine?”
Peter nodded enthusiastically. Nicolás drew him out, getting Peter to talk about his work, his worries. Calli tuned out the conversation. Instead, she watched them. While Peter spoke, Nicolás played with the stem of the empty water glass in front of him, absently sliding his fingers up and down the length of it. Calli watched the motion, almost hypnotized by it. His fingers slid around the bottom of the glass itself, to cup the curve there.
She released the breath she’d been holding. Was he doing it deliberately? Yet he did not glance at her even once.
Abruptly, she stood. “Will you excuse me?” she murmured before either of them could react and hurried to the door into the wide hallway that led to the main entrance. A waitress with a starched apron spoke to her. Calli heard ‘help’ amidst the blur of Spanish.
“Sí,” she said. “Washrooms? Um...” She frowned, recalling the phrases she had been studying, groping for an appropriate word. “La conveniencia?”
“Sí.” The woman pointed toward the wide carpeted stairs running along the opposite wall of the hallway. The heavy paneling repeated there, and a thick railing of carved wood glowed with age and care.
“Up?” Calli questioned, also pointing.
“Sí, up.” The waitress agreed with a wide smile.
The stairway broke into a square landing close to the bottom of the case. The wall there featured a large picture window, framed with lavish green velvet swags and curtains. At ninety degrees to the rest of the stairs, three more steps reached down to the hallway floor. Calli climbed the steps and saw why the window had been placed there. The lights of la colina spread out before her, undulating down the hillside and off to the north and south for miles.
She didn’t admire the view, for she wanted to reach a place where no one could find her, yet she moved slowly. The longer she stayed away from the table, the higher the probability that Nicolás would be gone when she returned.
Why had he come over? There had been no reason she could see. His talk with Peter had been mindless, yet someone like Nicolás Escobedo did not engage in superficial conversation without reason.
She found the washrooms with the universal symbol for women and stood at the basin, staring blindly into the mirror while she tasted her roiling anger and frustration. Last night and again tonight. He was toying with her.
Only, that wasn’t accurate. Her mind, trained for critical thinking, nagged her into acknowledging the inconsistencies.
Calli spread her hands and leaned on the counter, letting her head hang as she pushed aside all the hurt feelings and her bruised ego and separated out the facts. He had said...what?
“I saw the light leave your eyes when you heard my name. That is why I stand here. I did not like watching your spirit die as you put it together.”
The caress of his voice in her mind: “I dreamed of you, Calli.”
She shivered.
He hadn’t been playing with her at all. He had revealed himself to make her feel better, then explained why he could not give in to the desire.
Calli rubbed her temple. God and she had been at the point of dragging Peter to bed to get even with him. How stupid! How could she not have seen this before? “I’m out of practice,” she whispered to the mirror.
That left one remaining question. Why had he come over to the table tonight?
If she hurried back, would he still be there? Afraid, she raced from the room. He would have sensed her dismissal. He would not need it repeated. He would leave as quickly as politeness would allow. She had to get back there.
Halfway down, she saw him. He stood next to the green swags, looking out at the view. She knew he waited for her. Her heart hammering and her body on high alert, she descended the rest of the stairs. Calli grew aware of her dress, the sheer black stockings and was proud of her appearance. She was glad he had seen her like this.
She stepped onto the landing and stood beside him, as if they shared the view. The skin on her shoulder prickled at the nearness of his arm, even though they did not touch.
“Why did you come over to our table?”
“Did you think I could stay away? With you looking like that? I am a man, Calli, not a machine. Your appearance tonight... A man has only to look at you to know he should shower you with every sensual pleasure he can produce, that the rewards for such efforts would be ecstasy beyond his wildest dreams.”
A shiver wracked her. Peter had not managed to be even remotely poetic, while Nicolás had responded. She remembered Minnie’s advice and realized that Nicolás understood the difference.
“He’s not worthy, Calli,” he whispered.
“He will do.” She would not tell him she had changed her mind about seducing Peter. There was no point.
“I assumed you would have better taste. He’s a boy and he cannot dance.”
“And you can?”
“Better than he.”
“Yet he took me out on the dance floor, while you will not dare. Who is more the man?”
He reached out to grip the velvet curtain beside him and crushed it in his fist. “It is not lack of courage that prevents me.”
“You made it clear last night that my life is none of your business.”
In the reflection on the window, she saw his head drop, as if he didn’t like the fact any more than she. “So I did,” he agreed, his voice low.
“Are you recanting?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her heart hurt as it pounded against her chest.
His grip on the velvet tightened. “I can’t,” he growled.
The exquisite tension in her subsided, like air from a tire. “I know,” she agreed. All the pride, the excitement, fled. “I have to get back to Peter. He’ll be wondering—”
Nick’s arm wrapped around her waist as she turned to go. She inhaled sharply as he pulled her up against him and held her with her back to him, his arm an iron band around her.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice strained.
Heat. Solid, immoveable strength. The hard length of his body registered along hers. His hand cupped her hip.
Calli closed her eyes against the ferocious rush of undiluted desire. She trembled. “Don’t,” she whispered.
He drew breath. She could hear it and felt his chest expand against her shoulders. He did not speak.
She opened her eyes. In the reflection on the window she saw his other hand come up to her bare shoulder and hover there, as if he fought himself.
She held her breath, the skin over her shoulder tingling, all nerves stretched to their limits, anticipating his touch. Her thoughts paused, her whole body stilled. Waiting.
It was not a caress she received. His hand curled over her shoulder and she realized that he trembled, too. The warm fingers settled, as if by anchoring them so firmly he could resist moving it further. He let out his breath, stirring the curls by her ear and grew still. His eyes closed.
Yes, he battled himself.
“There is a difference in you tonight,” he said. “More than just the dress.”
“I haven’t changed.”
“You have...let go. What has happened, to make that difference?”
She thought of the stolen moment she had seen between Duardo and Minnie. “I have realized that some men will take what they want. You will not. I must find someone who will.”
He remained quiet for a long moment. “If it is simply sex you seek,” he said at last, “then you will not have far to look. Do you think Peter will appreciate what he has got? Do you think he will be able to satisfy you beyond crude, coarse coupling?”
He had spoken her fears aloud. She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“I do know. Why must you do this? You did not, in Montana. I know that as sure
ly as I know my own hand. The woman I see tonight, she does not normally show her face.”
“I, too, am not a machine. You cannot stir these feelings in me, stoke them and then expect me to remain untouched. I dream of you, Nick. Everywhere here I see sensuality and lust and know I will never have those moments with you that I dreamed of. I will take what I can.”
“Not with him, Calli.” His voice held a note of pleading.
“You will not. He will.”
She felt him shake his head, even as his reflection made the same movement in the glass. “I could fill your mind so you cannot think of another man. So idea of taking another would be as remote and alien to you as the surface of Mars.”
“Arrogance,” she breathed.
“Knowledge,” he corrected. “I can feel you trembling and I know how you have drugged me so I cannot sleep. All I must do is stamp myself upon you a little more and I know you will not think of another, for you are not like that.”
“Nick…” She spoke his name in warning…and in pleading. They walked upon treacherous ground now.
His hand on her shoulder slid, with a whisper of a caress, down to cup her breast. She gasped. The material of the dress was so fine and light it felt as if he held her naked breast. His hand was hot. Large against her skin and delicious. She could feel the details of his fingers, the swell of flesh, the joints, the tips, searing her skin.
“God, Nick, please....” she moaned, her head falling against his shoulder. Her shoulders pulled back, thrusting her breast into his hand.
“You plead for me to stop, or for more?” His voice was hoarse with pent-up emotion.
Calli clenched her jaw, determined not to speak aloud the rabid need she had for him. She cared not at all about their public place, that Peter might come looking for her at any moment, that anyone glancing in the window would see them and see his hand at her breast. She wanted more, much more. She felt a ravening need to coax him by words and movements to take her right now.
He kissed her neck, by the corner of her jaw. His lips were hot. “I see your jaw ripple. Ah, you are strong, Calli. Do you know how much your strength is a goad, driving me to breach that strength, to have you whimper in my arms?” His voice by her ear sent another shiver through her. His heady, spicy and masculine scent enveloped her. She moaned, the soft noise slipping from her.
“Tell me what is in your mind to make you utter that sound,” he whispered.
“Your hand. I dreamed of your hand on my breast.” Her voice was throaty, distorted by raw animal wanting. “I couldn’t feel it in the dream, Now you touch me as you did then, and it feels so good.”
She heard him swallow, the little ragged sound of his breath. “God help me, you are driving me out of my mind. The look on your face, your voice... Do you know how easy it would be for me to tear this dress from you, lower you to the floor and take you right now? Here?”
“I would not stop you,” she whispered.
His hand on her hip moved down to stroke her thigh beneath the dress, the little finger slipping between her legs. He didn’t slide it higher. It fluttered against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, stroking with delicate caresses. When his fingers discovered the lacy tops of her stockings, he made a noise that was half groan, half growl.
“Tell me you can still think of taking another man to bed,” he rasped in her ear.
The truth spilled from her. “Not in a million years.”
His arms came around her waist. “Then we are even.”
She took a deep breath so she could speak properly again. “I am to be tortured by what I cannot have, while you slake your need with whoever you please. You are being unfair, Nick.”
His lips came down upon her neck. “You misinterpret me. I have simply brought you to the point where I have been for two long nights.”
She grew still. “You mean...?”
“Yes, Calli. I have not been able to touch another woman since I met you.” His tone became dry. “Although I have tried.”
She closed her eyes. “Why me?” she asked. “Why, of all the women you have met? I know what I am. I’m a discarded economics tutor. I even have two cats at home.”
His voice came right by her ear again and she could feel his breath against her shoulder. “There was a moment, in the holding cell, when I first stepped in. You had not seen me, yet I saw you. You looked out the window, with your hands on the bars. I had just spent an hour sorting out the true story from the men in the hospital and the arresting officers and the liaison your uncle called. When I saw you, I had already looked into the matter. I knew you rushed to Vistaria when your uncle phoned asking for your help for the summer, with little warning or preparation. Because he asked, you came. Within an hour of landing in a country where you didn’t speak the language, you were put in a situation that would tax the nerves of most men. I did not see a petrified, cowed woman standing at that window, though. When you turned to face me, you did not plead or beg or whine. I saw your spirit and knew it could not be crushed. That strength is so very rare.”
She absorbed his words with difficulty. “Oh, Nick, you’re so wrong. I have been crushed. Ask Minnie. She will tell you I haven’t yet dragged myself back to anything like normal.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You guard yourself now, that is all. The woman last night that looked me in the eye and planted that last barb, just to even the score...she was not defeated.”
“Must I now guard myself against you?”
“I would never hurt you.” Total conviction rang in his voice.
“Just standing here places me, both of us, in danger.”
Again, she felt him draw a large breath. Bracing himself. As abruptly as she had been drawn to him, she was freed. She shivered as cool air touched the skin at her back and turned to face him.
He stared out the window again. “You should go,” he said, without looking at her.
“Calli?” Peter’s voice.
She turned to see Peter emerging from the dining room. “Sorry, I got caught up,” she told him.
“Have you seen the view from here?” Nicolás added.
Peter climbed up to the landing and looked. He gave a low whistle. “No, I’ve never been up here before,” he confessed. “Quite a view, huh?”
“Yes, it is,” Nicolás agreed. He pushed his sleeve back and glanced at his watch, the gold band glittering in the light from the chandelier overhead. “You must excuse me, both of you.”
“Of course,” Peter agreed. “It was good of you to stop and say hello.”
“My pleasure,” Nicolás murmured. He turned to Calli and bent his head. “Miss Munro.”
“Goodbye,” she said politely.
He moved to the front door, said something to the waitress that made her giggle with her tray covering her mouth and shut the heavy door behind him. He didn’t look back.
As it should be, Calli told herself.
Yet she could still feel the imprint of his hand on her breast, the feel of his heart beating against her back. Her sleep would be as broken tonight as it had been for the last two nights.
“Could you please take me home, Peter?” she asked.
* * * * *
Peter dropped her outside the apartment. She did not invite him in. Her silence on the way home conveyed her mood, for he did not attempt to kiss her. He simply braked and put the car in neutral, the engine running, his hand on the gear stick.
“Thank you for dinner,” Calli said, as the enormous weariness wrapped about her once more.
“No problem. Thanks for your company,” he said. “Calli, did Escobedo say something to you? Something that upset you?”
“Why?” she asked.
“You’ve been silent ever since. What happened?”
“He was polite.”
“He invariably is polite,” he agreed. “That doesn’t mean what he’s saying doesn’t mean anything.”
“He said nothing of significance. The view, the fiesta, Vistaria’s wonderful fu
ture with the discovery of silver.”
“All politically correct.” It sounded like Peter sneered. It was too dark to check.
One of the black taxis common around Vistaria pulled up in front of them. The back door opened. Minnie nearly fell out of the back seat, laughing. With her hand on the door she righted herself and stood up, pushing her clingy jersey dress down from around her hips to hang properly. It didn’t seem to bother her that she was spot-lit by Peter’s headlights. A long trouser-encased leg pushed out of the taxi beside her, then Duardo uncurled himself from the back seat. He kept his head bent down, talking to the driver, waving his hand for emphasis.
“That’s Minnie, isn’t it?” Peter said.
“Yes.”
Minnie turned to face Duardo, both of them standing in the angle between the open door and the side of the taxi. Duardo caught her face in his hands and kissed her hard and passionately as her arms curled around his neck. He grasped her thigh, drawing her leg up against his hip. The dress rode up her leg, revealing most of her thigh and the start of her bare buttock. At the same time his lips moved down her throat to the top of her breasts, revealed by the scoop neck of the dress. The hand on her leg slid around the curve of thigh to cup her buttock, his sunburned, olive fingers a sharp contrast to her pale white flesh.
Peter made a hissing sound between his teeth. “Jesus, Minnie,” he murmured. “Who is that guy, anyway?” he demanded.
“He’s okay,” Calli said. “He’s a nice guy.”
“I bet.”
The pair kissed again, lingering. Calli didn’t want to get out of Peter’s car and alert them to witnesses. She cleared her throat, unsure what to do except wait out their passionate goodbye.
The taxi driver was not so patient. He tooted his horn.
Minnie pulled her mouth from Duardo’s and appeared to chuckle. Duardo spoke, gave her another quick kiss and let her go. She stepped back as he climbed back into the taxi. She waved as it pulled away.
Calli got out of the car and shut the door. Minnie turned to smile at her as Peter drove past. Calli didn’t wave.
“You look like you’ve been eating lemons,” Minnie said.
“I’m very tired,” Calli confessed.
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