by Janet Dailey
“Rob, that’s stupid. You know how dangerous it is to smoke in the stable.”
“Who says I was?” Rob countered, that lazy grin still curving his mouth.
“I’m not buying that innocent act. It might work on Luz, but not on me.” Trisha shrugged his arm off her shoulder and stepped away from him. “That door was locked because you didn’t want anyone to walk in and catch you smoking a joint.”
“It was locked because I was in the john,” he retorted easily. “You may be my sister, but I still don’t want you—or Jimmy Ray—to walk in and find me sitting on the can. Or shitting on the can.” Rob laughed.
“All you had to do was shut the bathroom door.”
“The light bulb was burned out.”
“You’ve got your story all worked out, haven’t you?” she accused grimly. “When we were kids, you were always making them up to protect yourself from getting into trouble, but I always knew when you were handing me one. And you’re doing it now.” Irritated, Trisha swung away and started toward the door. There was no talking to him now, not when he was flying high like this.
“Hey, where are you going?” Roughly he grabbed her arm and pulled her back around to face him. Trisha shrank from the bite of his fingers into her arm, faintly surprised by her brother’s strength.
“What’s the matter, Rob?” she challenged that wary and suspicious look in his expression. “Are you afraid I’m going to tell Luz?”
“You’d better not.” This time there was no smile on his thin mouth. “Because if you do, I might have to mention the time Raul left you standing naked in the driveway at Seven Oak. Didn’t think anybody saw you, did you? Well, I did, when I was walking back from the garage after parking the car. Wanta bet your trip to Argentina would go down the tube?”
“Rob, you’re a real bastard,” she declared angrily. “In the first place, I don’t carry tales, and you should know me better than that. And second, I’m eighteen and I don’t need Luz’s permission to go to Argentina or anywhere else I want to go. Last, but not least, I don’t give a damn if you saw me or not—or who you tell. So roll that in your paper and smoke it!”
“Don’t come snooping around here anymore. I don’t like people checking up on me.”
Her look was saddened with disgust. “Believe it or not, Rob, I came here because I wanted to talk to you. I should have known you aren’t interested in anybody’s problems but your own.” His hold loosened as he appeared taken aback by her reply. Trisha jerked her arm and headed for the door.
Part III
CHAPTER XVII
After approximately seven hours of flying time, the huge jetliner was descending to make its approach to Ezeiza, the international airport on the outskirts of Buenos Aires. Luz glanced idly out the airplane’s porthole at the tame, gently rolling landscape below. It reminded her of the south of England, with considerably fewer signs of habitation.
Trisha occupied the window seat directly in front of Luz in the first-class cabin. She turned to look back at her through the gap between the seat and the cabin wall. “Uruguay,” she identified the country below them, then directed her attention out the window again, eager for the first glimpse of their destination. Luz absently studied her daughter’s profile, all her misgivings about this trip returning to trouble her. None of them related to Rob. She was confident their stay would accomplish all he wanted to achieve. Her uneasiness revolved around Trisha and Raul Buchanan—and to be honest, herself.
“Look.” Trisha leaned closer to her window. ‘The Rio de la Plata, the river of silver.”
Turning, Luz gazed out her own porthole at the body of water over which the jet flew. It was neither a river nor silver in color. The River Plate was a long, wide estuary, the meeting place of the currents of the feeding rivers and the tide of the Atlantic Ocean. Its sluggish, silt-heavy waters were a dark muddy brown. According to the travel book Trisha had repeatedly quoted from, both the Rio de la Plata and Argentina, which means “silvered land,” were named centuries ago by the first Spaniards who mistakenly believed they had found the source of the rumored Inca riches, and the brown estuary would carry the silver to be shipped back to Spain.
Out of her window, Luz could see the haze hanging over the modern city of Buenos Aires, its skyscrapers and factory chimneys thrusting upward against the landscape. The crowded sprawl of its buildings spread out from the muddy banks of the Rio de la Plata, situated some 120 miles from the Atlantic. On the surrounding three sides of the city of “fair winds,” the land stretched in a flat checkerboard pattern of large fields, intersected by a network of roads and railroad tracks that fanned out from the population center. From the air, Luz found the view of the countryside bland and uninspiring.
The no-smoking light came on, and Luz rechecked her seatbelt, hearing the grinding thunk of the landing gear being lowered. A fine tension traveled over her nerves. She reminded herself that after landing, there was still passport control to go through and the customary long wait for their luggage at the baggage claim before they met Raul.
With a bending stretch of his wrist, Raul glanced at his watch and tried to estimate how much longer it might take. The flight had landed over thirty minutes ago. Standing well back from the crowd gathered outside the exit doors of the baggage-claim section, he took a deep drag on his narrow black cigar, then impatiently blew out a long stream of smoke.
He was a man who seldom had second thoughts about any of his actions, yet a thousand times he’d cursed himself for not letting this matter drop when it was in its infancy. Each time he had argued that it was business. Rob Thomas represented not only profits as a buyer for his horses but also a considerable fee as a pupil in his polo program. And he was not so well fixed that he could afford to turn away that income. But Raul knew instinctively that a packet of trouble was coming along with Rob Thomas—two packets of trouble.
He had no doubt Trisha would continue her pursuit of him. Dealing with the unwanted attention of a client’s daughter was always awkward and troublesome, but when the client was a woman, the matter was complicated further. Raul had never worked for a woman before, and he knew damned well it was Luz Thomas he had to satisfy, not her son. It was not a situation he liked. He was Latin enough not to relish taking orders from a woman. And Luz Kincaid Thomas was used to getting what she wanted. He knew that, as well as he knew that it was the cause of the friction that always rubbed its way to the surface whenever they met. It did not help that he had seen the soft woman in her, and the source of her daughter’s boldness.
Arriving passengers, some carrying their luggage and others pushing it in carts, began filing through the exit doors. Raul dropped his cheroot in an ashtray and straightened from his relaxed posture to keep a closer watch on the people coming through the doors. He remained well back from the crush of the crowd as it surged forward against the railed walkway. The babble of voices around him, predominantly Spanish, grew louder, snatches of phrases and shouts sounding above the droned announcements over the public-address system.
Finally, he caught his first glimpse of the Thomas party over the bobbing heads of the crowd—a sable hat set over sleek, honey-colored hair. Even before Raul saw the distinctive profile of Luz Kincaid Thomas, he recognized that proud bearing. It was a quality he both resented and admired. Ambivalence seemed to mark his attitude toward both the Thomas women; one minute he was stirred by their uniquely different beauties and in the next turned cold by their commanding natures.
A moment later, he had a clear look at Trisha through the milling crowd. Her dark gaze, lively and sparkling, scanned the faces of the crowd gathered outside, in search of him, he knew. Rob trailed them, pushing a wheeled cart stacked with luggage, his ruddy features serious and intense in their expression.
Raul waited on the outer edge of the crowd, not moving forward to meet them, instead letting them make their way through the tangled throng of passengers. When Luz paused where the crowd thinned to look around, Raul noticed the flicker of impati
ence in her expression. Still, he hesitated another second.
As she shifted the full-length sable coat to her other arm, she turned to glance back to her trailing daughter and son. In that instant, she saw him and became motionless. Raul had the impression of a beautiful fragile bird about to take wing, but the image didn’t last. A remote coolness seemed to sweep through her. Warm then cold, he thought, unlike her daughter, who seemed warm or hot nearly all the time. Yet that coolness was a defense; somehow he understood that.
Again struggling with his mixed feelings, Raul strode forward to meet them just as Trisha emerged from the crowd and saw him. She said something to Luz, who nodded, then moved toward him. As he approached her, the dark gold lights shining in her eyes appeared to challenge playfully.
“I was beginning to think you had forgotten we were coming.” She linked an arm with his to escort him back to her mother, now joined by Rob. “How is your wrist, by the way?”
“It is well. And your flight—was it a comfortable one?”
“Long, but uneventful.” Trisha relinquished her possession of his arm when they reached the others.
“Bienvenida.” He offered the Spanish welcome to Luz and reached out to shake hands. The warmth of her soft skin briefly surprised him; the aura of coolness was so definite that the sensation of heat was unexpected. He released her hand to greet Rob. The noise and congestion in the area did not encourage prolonged conversation. “If you have everything, my car is parked outside. I will take you to your hotel so that you can rest after your long flight,” Raul suggested.
“For once, all of our luggage arrived with us.” Luz indicated the suitcases stacked two deep on the cart Rob guarded.
After summoning a baggage porter to bring the luggage cart, Raul escorted the three of them outside to his car. He unlocked the doors and assisted Luz into the front passenger seat, then made certain all the suitcases were stowed in the trunk before tipping the porter and sliding behind the wheel.
“How far is the hotel from the airport?” Luz inquired as he edged the car away from the curb and into the flow of traffic.
“Your hotel is located in the center of the city, which is some distance from here. The traffic should not be bad. As in any other major city, all the people leave the city for the suburbs in the evening, so we will be going against the flow.” He felt obliged to make the explanation and fulfill his duties as host.
Dusk came early to the southern half of the world in August, a winter month in the reversed seasons of this hemisphere. Little of the city could be distinguished in the gathering darkness, except the glaring headlights of oncoming traffic on the freeway, the lighted signs along the route, mainly in Spanish, and occasionally a streetlamp illuminating graffiti painted on some wall.
Conversation was sporadic during the drive into the city, most of it coming from Trisha with comments by Rob, but Raul noticed that Luz said almost nothing. Up close, he could see no signs of fatigue from the long plane journey. She appeared alert and fresh. Her glistening wine-red lips lay firmly together, their straight line suggesting silent disapproval of something, and revealing a certain tension as well.
“This almost reminds me of Paris,” Trisha remarked, drawing Raul’s glance to the rearview mirror, where he could see her reflection. They traveled down one of many tree-lined boulevards into the heart of Buenos Aires. “It has a very European flavor.”
A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “It is natural, no? Argentina was settled by Europeans. When they built the city, the design was influenced by their heritage.”
“You’re right, of course,” Trisha conceded. “Every new culture brings pieces from the old or attempts to emulate it. Look, Luz, they even have sidewalk cafes.”
“I noticed.” The response was uninterested as Raul felt the rake of her dark glance, but when he turned, she was looking to the front.
Within minutes, they arrived at the hotel. Raul stopped the car in front of the entrance. While the uniformed doorman assisted Luz out of the front passenger seat, Raul opened the rear door for Trisha. She stepped out, then paused in front of him, blocking the opening so that he couldn’t close the car door.
“Do we have to leave tomorrow, Raul?” she questioned. “I’d love to see the city. What would be wrong with having a short tour of it? It would be much more interesting if you took us around instead of a guide.”
“We are expected at the estancia tomorrow afternoon.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glistening sweep of dark fur. He glanced across the top of the car at Luz, standing on the other side. The black sable coat was draped around her shoulders, the front held shut at the throat. She looked angry. Raul half expected to be the object of her glare, but it was focused on Trisha.
“Luggage, señor?” A uniformed porter waited by the curb with his baggage rack.
“St.” Raul moved away from Trisha to unlock the trunk.
“Trisha.” Luz’s call prompted her daughter to accompany her into the hotel.
After shutting the passenger door, Trisha walked around to the rear of the car, where Raul was supervising the removal of the luggage. “Are you coming inside, Raul?” She ignored her mother to stop beside him.
“It is unlikely there will be any difficulties with your reservation, but I will come in to make certain,” he replied.
“Don’t say that. The idea of being stranded without a hotel in a city where I didn’t know a soul and couldn’t make myself understood doesn’t bear thinking about.” But she laughed when she said it, as though she actually believed it might be an exciting adventure.
“I think there would be no fear of making yourself understood. Many people here are bilingual.” Again, Raul was conscious of the impatient look Luz was sending their way. “I believe your mother is waiting for you.”
That didn’t appear to concern her. “I’ll see you inside,” she said, smiling as she moved away to join her mother and Rob on the hotel steps.
He watched them enter the hotel, then turned back to the porter. When the last large suitcase was lifted out of the trunk, he closed the lid and checked to make certain it was locked, then followed the porter into the lobby. Familiar with the hotel’s layout from previous visits, he went directly to the registration desk. Luz was filling out the necessary forms while Rob leafed through a magazine listing the city’s entertainment. Trisha was looking through some brochures on the counter and didn’t immediately notice him.
Raul paused next to Luz. “Are your reservations in order?”
“Yes.” She slid the form and the accompanying passports back to the clerk and turned to face him. “What time would you like us to be ready to leave in the morning?”
“I would like to start at ten o’clock, if that is not too early for you,” he replied, aware that both Rob and Trisha had come over to join them.
“Ten o’clock will be fine,” Luz stated as the desk clerk interposed to give the room key to the bellman.
“You will be joining us for dinner, won’t you, Raul?” Trisha asked.
The instant the invitation was issued, he noticed the reproving glance Luz gave her.
“You will have to excuse me this evening. I have other plans. And I am certain after your long trip, you would prefer a quiet dinner,” he stated.
“You’re quite right,” Luz agreed. “We will probably have a meal sent to our rooms.”
“I will meet you tomorrow morning in the lobby at ten o’clock, then. Have a good evening.” The statements were directed to all three of them.
There was an echo of goodbyes as he turned and started across the lobby to the exit. “Mr. Buchanan?” Luz called out to him before he was halfway across it. Pausing, Raul swung back. “I’ll be there directly,” she said to Rob and Trisha, who were being escorted to the elevators by the bellman. “I just want to have a quick word with Raul … Mr. Buchanan.”
The almost imperceptible slip reminded him of the times she had called him Raul, and the way her lips had formed his nam
e, slowly, lingering over it. He waited while she approached him, her high heels clicking over the tiled floor.
“Was there something else?” Raul checked the impulse to use her given name even though she had once given him permission to do so. Some instinct had guarded him against establishing such familiarity, and he obeyed it now.
“Yes.” The sable coat hung loosely about her shoulders, like a cape, a high collar framing her face with luxurious dark fur. Its color seemed as dark a black-brown as her eyes. “I’m sure you are aware that my daughter is very attracted to you. I would greatly appreciate it if you would not encourage that interest. You are not at all suitable for her, and I would not like to see her hurt. That’s all, Mr. Buchanan.” She dismissed him and walked back to the others.
Stunned, he stared after her, anger slowly rising in him. She’d spoken to him as if he were a servant, treated him as something less than an equal, coldly informed him that he wasn’t good enough for her daughter. Raul pivoted sharply on his heel and strode out of the hotel.
* * *
The next morning, the inner-city congestion slowed the traffic in the streets, but there was more of Buenos Aires to see in the daylight, so Luz didn’t object to the slower pace. It allowed her to gain more of a sense of the city with its formal squares and broad avenues. The wide boulevards sometimes seemed severe. There hadn’t been enough time for age to give them the grace and charm of their European counterparts, although when the jacaranda bloomed, Luz suspected much of its cold line would be softened. She hadn’t noticed any narrow, winding streets. All of the avenues seemed to run endlessly block after block toward some distant vanishing point.
Most of the buildings appeared to be modern, decades rather than centuries old. She noticed an old Corinthian-columned cathedral that dominated one of the many plazas. Its architectural style was reminiscent of La Madeleine, the church that graced the Place de la Concorde in Paris. She made some reference to the cathedral when they passed within sight of it. Raul explained that it was one of the oldest buildings in Argentina, constructed in the eighteenth century, and held the mortal remains of General José de San Martin, the liberator of Argentina, who had led the revolt against Spain to gain his nation’s independence, as well as that of Chile and Peru.