by Ann Major
Just like I did…seven years ago….
Tammy was an American student at the Instituto. She’d come to the Yucatán to study the ruins and improve her Spanish. Unlike most of Julio’s girlfriends, Tammy loved kids, and Miguelito enjoyed her.
Which was good.
So why did her heart ache as she circled herself with her arms and squeezed herself hard? Ever since her parents and little brother died, all she’d wanted was to be part of a happy family.
“What’s so interesting down there?” Isabela glided soundlessly across the room and joined her at the window.
“Do you think he misses his real mommy at all?” Vivian whispered in a low, raw tone.
Tammy squealed when Miguelito splashed her, and Julio pulled Tammy away from the boy, circling her with his bronzed arms. He gave her a kiss. The girl wrapped her legs exuberantly around Julio while Miguelito watched them spellbound.
Vivian’s fingernails raked the warm glass.
“Now, don’t get upset,” Isabela said. “You don’t want Julio for yourself, and you know he can’t exist without a girlfriend.”
“Even when I was pregnant. If I don’t get Miguelito out of this country fast, he’ll wind up just like his daddy, and history will repeat itself.”
“Julio is a wonderful father.”
“But not a wonderful husband. I don’t want Miguelito to see women, especially young pretty ones, only as sex objects, and other women as servants.”
“You worry too much,” Isabela said with a soft laugh.
“I’m afraid I have very different views than you about sex and love.”
“Do you? Sometimes I wonder.”
“You are more than just a beauty. You have a mind.”
“I’m smart enough not to try to compete with men, if that’s what you mean.”
“It isn’t.” Vivian pounded on the glass to distract Miguelito from the fused pair, who were still engaged in an endless, torrid series of kisses.
Tammy saw her first and shyly pushed against Julio’s brown shoulder and waved up at her. Then father and son waved sheepishly too.
“Well, I hope you’re happy now.” Amusement glimmered in Isabela’s slanting dark eyes. “You sure broke them up.”
“You just don’t want me to spoil your mood.”
“Exactly. I’m in love.”
“With love.”
“With Cash. He was so shy on the phone. I’m almost sure he’s coming here to propose.”
“You don’t know? Why, Isabela, sex-goddess extraordinaire, you’re losing your touch.”
“Don’t tease me. Not about him. And if he does ask me, I’ll throw a huge dance to announce our engagement. We’ve got to act surprised, but we’ve got to be ready, too. So you’ve got to help me.”
“Of course, querida. Anything.”
“We’ve got to get the house and the guest room, everything into top shape. I told the servants when I got in.”
“I noticed the kitchen was in an uproar.” A pause, and then it occurred to Vivian how terrible life would be here without Isabela. She swallowed. “If you marry him, where will you two live?”
“San Francisco. Of course, Cash travels all over the world. Just like Papá.”
“If you leave, I’ll miss you….”
Their glances met. Vivian struggled to hide the desperate sense of loss and abandonment that was a legacy of being orphaned at an early age.
Isabela clapped her hands and moved closer, holding out her arms. “You are always teasing me and complaining—but you do love me. You do. Like a sister.”
“You’re the only family…”
The passionate Isabela enfolded her in a touching embrace and squeezed her waist tightly. For an instant Vivian’s eyes stung with hot wetness.
“Silly, preciosa, you and Miguelito will come with me. Por supuesto, ven conmigo.”
“But—”
“Don’t cry!”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not!” But her eyes burned, and her heart beat in painful, jerky strokes.
“Your eyes are as bright as cherries. Don’t you know, I can’t live in the States—not without family. You are my sister. We will find you a little house near ours. You will help me catch him—yes?”
“You’re taking me with you?” Vivian dabbed at her eyes. She couldn’t believe Isabela’s generous offer.
She and Miguelito might go home.
“You’ve told me you want to go back to school and that there’s no opportunity here. This is our chance. If you help me, we will both realize our dreams.”
“I—I can’t believe you’d take—”
“Believe it. All you have to do is play fairy godmother and help me catch my prince.”
“But you are so beautiful. How could I possibly help?”
“I don’t understand you Americans, and when he arrives, he must have the most wonderful time of his life. Everything must be perfect. You say I am beautiful, but you don’t understand who he is. He is like a god. He could have any woman. And like you say, he is used to women who aren’t afraid to reveal they have minds.”
Vivian had never seen Isabela so filled with self-doubt, and because of her own self-doubts, she sympathized.
“He is like royalty…an international celebrity in his own right. He is not in love with me—yet. He is still in love with her, his first wife. He never talks about it, but I can sense the way he feels. He can look so dark, so sad, and his eyes can look so empty.”
Vivian’s heart beat uneasily. She had felt what he felt too—just from looking at his photograph. “I know what you mean,” she said softly.
“If I’m lucky, he’ll pop the question tonight, first thing. But until he does…”
Vivian shivered a little. “I’ll prepare the guest room for him,” she said, suddenly eager to end this discussion about Isabela’s Prince Charming.
When she left Isabela, she knew she had to forget Cash McRay’s green eyes and that strange feeling of sorrow and connection she felt toward him. She loved Isabela like a sister. Her loyalty was to Isabela.
The best way to quit fantasizing about a man who’d lost the woman he’d loved and wore his grief in his pain-ravaged eyes was to work hard. Vivian marched down to the kitchen and made long lists for the servants. Next she took two maids to Cash’s guest room and listed what needed to be done. As she was leaving, Vivian spotted a puddle on the bathroom floor near the water heater. When she turned the hot water heater on, water spewed out of a broken pipe, showering her.
She screamed, and the maids doubled over with laughter. Then she started laughing too. Finally, she turned the water off, but a look at herself in the mirror brought more giggles. Dripping wet, her bright hair glued to her scalp, Vivian looked like a giant, drowned rat.
Still laughing, she went to the garage to tell Rodrigo. Then she returned to Isabela’s bedroom to check in with Isabela, who laughed at her too.
“Cash just called. You’ll have to change at once and repair your hair. His plane is on the ground.”
“I’m too tired. I’m going to shower and go to bed.”
“But I want you to meet Cash.”
“In the morning.”
“But, you said you’d help—”
“He’s an American. With an American man, you put romancing him first and family second. It’s important that you don’t overpower him. Trust me on this.”
Isabela hugged her until she was as soaked as Vivian. “All right. Tonight we’ll have a candlelight dinner by the pool, just the two of us. Lots of candles. And I’ll wear this.” She lifted a sexy red sheath from her bed. “How are these for glass slippers?”
The shoes, although made of plastic, did indeed look like glass slippers adorned with thousands of sparkling red stars.
“You will be the most perfect Cinderella ever.”
An hour later, when Vivian was upstairs alone in her bedroom, with her stringy, wet hair and her sunburned face, she sensed him even before the outer door slammed an
d he entered the walled courtyard.
One minute she was fine. Then it was as if her world shifted crazily on its axis. The air was suddenly so dense and hot she could barely breathe.
More doors banged. A dog’s claws scraped tile. The animal began barking inside the courtyard. Isabela didn’t allow dogs.
The mutt yapped again.
Curious, Vivian stepped out onto her balcony, and a man’s deep, pleasant voice from the patio below made her quiver and slink into the shadows of the ancient pomegranate tree.
“Anyone can see the mutt’s half starved, Isabela. Indulge me,” the voice said.
“You can’t adopt every mangy dog in Mexico.”
Isabela moved toward him, hips undulating. He gulped his entire glass of wine and backed away from her.
“My cabdriver nearly hit him.”
“Because he’s so stupid he sleeps in the middle of the street.”
“Just look into his eyes. What soul!”
“Oh, my God, Cash—he’s already eaten half our grilled chicken dinner.”
“We won’t starve, Isabela. Do you have soap and a hose? As soon as he eats, I’ll bathe him.”
“Surely one of the servants can deal with him. You’ve come such a long way. Why don’t we enjoy each other?”
Again he backed away from her. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to bathe him myself.” The beautiful voice was harder, crisper. “You can watch…if you’d enjoy that.”
Fisting her hands, Vivian stirred restlessly. She felt strangely possessive and jealous of Concho. Why had Cash McRay fixed on her skinny, orange stray? The last thing she needed was to feel another connection to the man.
As if the dog sensed her, Concho trotted to the patio under her balcony, looked up and began to whine. When Cash followed, Vivian whirled inside and eased her glass door shut. Trying not to think about the couple outside, she peeled off her wet clothes, bathed, and washed her hair, standing in the warm shower far longer than was necessary, as if to wash the memory of Cash’s voice and presence from her consciousness. Finally, she slipped on a cotton nightgown and towel-dried her hair.
She’d missed her swim this morning and now again tonight. Maybe that was partly why she felt so strange and restless as she moved about her bedroom straightening shelves and drawers that were perfectly straight already.
Miguelito was still with Tammy and Julio, or she would have gone to his room and played games or read books with him. When she tried to read in bed, her mind was too scattered to concentrate. So, she got up again and paced.
If only she could swim, but she couldn’t. Not with Isabela entertaining Cash down by the pool.
Tonight was too important—maybe he’d propose. She had to stay focused on the fact that he was her ticket to a new life.
When Vivian lay down on her bed a long while later, she felt exhausted, but too confused to sleep. She kept thinking about Concho and the fact that Cash cared about her dog. The feeling that they were connected in some mysterious way intensified.
It’s been too long since you got any…
She wished Aaron hadn’t said that. She wished the mattress wasn’t so soft. She balled the sheets in her hands and tried to lie still.
Why couldn’t she sleep? Why was she dwelling on this fantasy about a man she didn’t even know? Worse—he was Isabela’s, and she adored Isabela.
Finally Vivian got up, opened the door and padded barefoot out onto her shadowy balcony again. The sultry night air smelled of mango and avocado, and of grilled chicken and garlic.
Hundreds of candles lit up the pool area. She could see the lovers from her balcony. Isabela pranced about under the ancient pomegranate tree in her sexy, strapless red dress that was the exact shade of the walls and her strappy, see-through heels, while Cash kept moving out of her range.
Mostly Vivian watched Cash, who was half hidden by the tropical foliage. He was big and virile looking in jeans and boots. He was whipcord lean and had the tight-hipped swagger of a street fighter, and yet he was, apparently, a highly sophisticated, brilliant man.
Vivian found that she liked watching him move. His big, raw-boned body somehow went with his rough, haunted face.
Concho liked him too. Claws clicking, the dog padded after him everywhere, and when Cash’s brown hand fell to his side, the mutt’s head was there to lick his fingers and be stroked. Cash seemed much more comfortable with the dog than he did with Isabela.
Don’t try so hard, Isabela.
Still, Isabela would win. She always did. Broken-hearted or not, the rugged Cash McRay, who had a soft spot for mongrels, didn’t stand a chance against the seductive, fiery Isabela.
And I want Isabela to win. I do.
Remembering how gently Julio had courted her with candlelit dinners and dances, Vivian knew McRay was in over his head. Julio specialized in reluctant virgins, just as Isabela specialized in wounded rich men.
And Isabela had broken too many hearts to count. Not that Isabela kept a list of conquests or heartbreaks. She was resilient and optimistic. In her mind, the present man was the only one.
If Isabela pulled this off, Vivian would get to go home to the States. But oddly, Vivian wanted Cash to find true love and be happy and not simply be swept away.
Suddenly Concho left Cash’s side and trotted over to stand underneath Vivian’s balcony. He lifted his head and began to bark excitedly as if she were a skunk or a raccoon he’d treed.
“Go away! Git!” Vivian whispered.
At the sound of her voice, Concho leaped against the pomegranate tree and howled. When Vivian heard a man’s footsteps, she quickly shrank deeper into the shadows.
“What’s wrong, Spot?”
Spot! Spot? Concho didn’t have a spot on him.
Cash was underneath her too now. Vivian barely dared to breathe when he planted two large, broad feet squarely underneath her balcony.
“Somebody up there, Spot? A cat, maybe?”
Vivian’s heart knocked. Just me.
She felt him, and she knew he felt her. Because he stayed there, even after Isabela called to him.
Some weird, out-of-body chemistry was definitely going on. The air grew colder and seemed to snap as if it were as charged with electricity as air after a summer storm. The leaves of the pomegranate stirred, as did the tendrils along Vivian’s nape.
Vivian wrapped her arms around herself tightly and clamped her teeth together to keep them from chattering.
“Somebody up there?” he repeated, his deep voice silky and seductive.
“That’s Vivian’s bedroom,” Isabela told him. “She’s asleep.”
No, she’s biting her lips until they bleed and trembling like a crazy woman while wave after wave of wanton heat washes over her.
Oh dear, if this mad feeling didn’t stop soon, she was sure she’d melt and become a puddle.
“Go away,” she whispered, her legs turning to jelly as she sank against the wall. “Please, both of you—just go away.”
“Vivian?” he whispered into the still night air. “Are you up there?”
Four
Vivian woke up on a shudder of longing to a giant tropical moon flooding her bedroom with magical white light. Slowly she became aware of her hot flesh tingling.
She licked her lips. Half awake, and breathless from her dream, she scrambled into her bathrobe and dashed to her balcony, where she stared at the moon and tried her best to forget her outrageous fantasy. But the harder she tried to forget him, the more indelibly he became engraved on her mind.
She’d been dreaming she was naked and sitting on a broad, virile Cash McRay, who was as naked as the day he was born. He’d been solid and warm, sculpted of muscle. His eyes had burned green and bright with tenderness and desire, and even now, just remembering, her body thrummed with longing.
She could still hear his voice. “Vivian? Are you up there?”
With shaking fingers Vivian wrapped the thick folds of her robe up high under her throat the way a prim old ma
id might. But she wasn’t an old maid. She was a divorcée. For the first time, she was fulfilling all her suitors’ fantasies about her.
Aaron’s words returned to haunt her. “It’s obvious it’s been too long…”
To get her mind off the possibility of sex with Isabela’s beloved, Vivian decided to go for a swim.
A swim—the mere thought energized her and had her racing to her bureau and rummaging through a drawer for her red bikini. Even before she shook out the drawer onto a floor already teeming with clothes she hadn’t hung up for the past few days, she remembered she’d left it in the pool house bathroom.
Five minutes later she was there, tearing her cotton gown and bathrobe off as if demons possessed her.
She couldn’t believe she’d dreamed that she’d spent half the night on top of Isabela’s future husband, her mouth and tongue running wild over his wide brown chest and throat. He’d hauled her closer, so close she’d felt his hardness against her pelvis. Just the memory made her toes curl against the tile floor.
Vivian wasn’t good at hiding her feelings—a major flaw—especially when she had a guilty conscience. She’d die of mortification if she blushed and simpered like a schoolgirl with her first crush when Isabela introduced them at breakfast.
Isabela trusted her.
Just thinking about the way his lips had caressed every part of her body made her cringe. Even so, she imagined it all again…
She had to get a grip, to clear her mind of such treacherous, misplaced longings. She didn’t even know him!
It was beautiful outside—the stars bright against an ink-dark sky. Vivian gazed out the window at the Big Dipper and then the North Star. If the days in Mérida broiled a person, April nights were romantically lush and sweet-scented.
She knew her way around the dark bathroom, so she didn’t bother to turn on the light, not even when she heard a sound from the next room. Then she groped for her bathing suit, which should have been hanging from the towel rack by the tub. Only when it wasn’t there did she flip on the light to look for it. Seven gilded mirrors—Isabela went in for overstated opulence—lit and reflected every inch of Vivian’s soft, creamy skin. Her red hair was tousled and fell about her shoulders.