She eyed him from head to toe, as if debating on how much she could trust him. Troy shrugged at her, making like a harmless puppy. “You don’t have to tell me. I’ll call her at her apartment.”
“New Mexico,” she answered. “What’s your name? I’ll tell her you stopped by.”
“Mike Conrad.” He grimaced. “I’m afraid I’m gonna miss her. I’m heading back to Cincinnati tomorrow.”
“Bummer! Well, okay, Mike Conrad, I’ll let her know that she missed a serious opportunity.”
“You do that.”
As he watched her walk away, he felt a certain amount of contentment. New Mexico was a big state, but all he had to do was tag after her and the information would come his way. And she had that son … Rawley. All in all, it had been a pretty good night.
Perspiration dripped down Jenny’s temples as she lay on the white chaise longue. Her eyes were closed and she was baking. Steaming, actually, under a merciless Mexican sun. When she opened her eyes, heat devils danced and wriggled in the distance. Sighing, she let her lids drop once more, wishing she could enjoy this vacation as much as Magda, Phil, and the others did.
They were already warming up with afternoon margaritas during a time when any self-respecting Mexican would be having a siesta. Jenny was all for quitting during the heat of the day and picking up the pace when the shadows lengthened. Why she was even out in the sun was a mystery to her, although snoozing in her room had lost its appeal when the air conditioning unit dropped a puddle of condensation on the foot of her bed. Joaquin, the houseboy, was apparently taking care of the problem.
Her thoughts seesawed from anticipation—thoughts that had Hunter Calgary in their center—to anxiety. The anxiety had to do with Troy. She’d so effectively shut him out of her life that he’d become a distant memory over the past fifteen years, nothing she wanted to ever think about. But now, with Allen’s revelation just days old, a flood of recollections had left her feeling nervous and jumpy. Sometimes she wanted to leap out of her skin and scream.
Back in her room, she showered, towelled off, then blow-dried her hair, clipping the unruly mane at the back of her nape with a tortoiseshell barrette. Drawing a breath, she pursed her lips, then blew her fluffy bangs upward. In the mirror serious blue eyes stared back at her ironically. The dimple that appeared when she smiled was hidden beneath the sternness of her expression.
“You can’t hurt me, Troy,” she said in a voice that matched her expression.
In the salon, Magda, Phil, and the others had moved from desultory sipping to out-and-out drinking. Discussion revolved around the cost of taxis. No one wanted to drive, given their current state of inebriation. Jenny fought an urge to scurry back to her room. She wasn’t generally judgmental about drinking, but they were all so far ahead of her that it made her feel even more like an outsider.
“Jenny, my love!” Magda waved fingers at her with one hand and sloshed frozen margarita mix out of her drink and onto the Mexican tiles with the other.
“Let me fix you a drink.” Phil was once again in his Euro-Phil beret. Jenny half smiled and nodded. She didn’t want to be the wet blanket. In fact, she was tired of being Miss Responsible, Miss Go-to-Bed-First, Miss Boring. She’d made mistakes in her youth, but she’d atoned for each and every one of them. It was time she had a little fun. Besides, Rawley was safe with the Fergusons and there was nothing to worry about. Nothing.
It took an almost physical effort to push her worries about Troy aside. Still, she glanced toward the phone. It required a credit card and a better knowledge of Spanish than she possessed if she wanted to check in with the Fergusons, just in case. Rawley might be happy at soccer camp, but she couldn’t stop herself from fretting completely. Maybe another margarita will help, she told herself with new resolve.
Time to become the life of the party.
“Here ya be,” Phil declared, bestowing her drink in her hand with a flourish.
“Thanks.”
One of the others detached himself from the group and came her way. It was the single man. Matt Something-or-other. Jenny searched her brain for something to say, berated herself for being a flirting failure, and just settled on a welcoming smile. He’d been bantering with Lisa and Jackie throughout the afternoon, but she suspected it was now her time to share his wonderful personality. Cynical? Yes, she was. But it had served her well for the past fifteen years …
“Hey, there,” he said, plunking himself down on the end of her chaise.
“Hello.” She mentally groaned. He reminded her a bit of an overgrown Rawley. The teenage vernacular was certainly the same.
“Come here often?” He grinned like a satyr.
“Every day for the next week.”
“My name’s Matt. And you’re Jenny.”
She lifted her drink in a silent salute. She wanted to say something clever and sassy, but for the life of her she couldn’t. What a drag! Life was too short to waste it trying to be perfect.
“My mother’s name’s Jennifer.”
“Oh?”
“And my father’s name’s Ted.” He grinned. “I’m boring the hell out of you, aren’t I?”
She shook her head even though it was close to the truth. How many hours were there before she could gracefully get away? Hunter had promised her a margarita. She wondered if she could skip dinner and hightail it out of here right now. But then, what would she do? Wait for him at the bar? Try to call his room?
The answer was so obvious she was surprised she hadn’t considered it before. As Matt opened his mouth to throw out another get-to-know-you line, Jenny glanced at her watch. “Oh! I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ve got to get to the Hotel Rosa. I’m having dinner there tonight.”
“You are?” Magda waved an arm adorned with one of her silver and turquoise bracelets. Her own creation, a design from what she’d dubbed her “Tourist Trap” line. Still, it really worked for her.
“For the restaurant,” Jenny said. “I’ve heard their food’s wonderful, and I’d like to get some ideas.” She smiled. “I only steal from the best.”
“I’ll come with you,” Matt promptly invited himself.
“No, Matt!” Magda gave him a scolding look. “We can’t abandon all this food! What would the staff think? They’d get their feelings hurt!”
“You all stay here and Jenny and I will check out the Hotel Rosa.” He winked at Jenny. “You tell me what to order, and I’ll buy.”
Jenny gaped at him, mad at herself that she couldn’t respond with equal rudeness. With a shrug, she headed upstairs to change, noticing Lisa and Jackie’s crestfallen glances at Matt. He phoned for a cab while she was gone, and by the time she was downstairs he was there beside her, wearing tight jeans and a black shirt, open to the navel.
Oh, God, she thought, preceding him out the door.
Matt was a problem she didn’t need. From the moment he helped her into the cab, his attentions became proprietorial. Jenny longed for the company of Lisa and Jackie but they had scorned her last-ditch invitation, throwing dagger glances at Matt.
Matt was completely unaffected. As they bumped down the rocky hillside to the town itself, he wound an arm over her shoulders. “I didn’t think you’d go out with me,” he revealed with a toothy grin. “You’re one icy lady, if you know what I mean.”
“Go out with you?” she questioned, lifting one brow.
“I know the Hotel Rosa is supposed to have great food, but some of the other spots around are better for music and dancing.”
“I’m only interested in the food, Matt. That’s why I’m going to the Hotel Rosa.”
He made a face. “All right,” he said with a lugubrious sigh.
Jenny ran some rude comments around in her head but couldn’t quite get up the gumption to toss them out. Too many years of training. It really irked her. But she had to do something. She had a pseudo-date with Hunter Calgary, didn’t she? What would he make of Matt?
As Matt helped her from the cab in front of H
otel Rosa, she said, “I haven’t been exactly honest with you. I’m meeting someone here. I just thought you should know.” She rooted around in her purse for some money, but Matt stayed her with a hand on her wrist.
“I’ve got it.” He paid the cabbie and gave him a tip. “You could have let me know.”
“You didn’t ask!” She headed for the door to the restaurant.
“Hey, wait up.” He hurried ahead to open the door for her which only irritated Jenny all the more.
“Look—”
“No. I’m sorry, I—”
“No, listen,” she cut him off. “We’re going to be staying together at the villa for the entire week. Let’s get things straight right now. I’m just here on vacation. That’s all I’m doing. You know what I mean?”
“Sure. Some R & R.”
She nodded. “So, let’s not misunderstand each other. I don’t want this to feel awkward.”
He grinned again. He had a Tom Cruise-like mouthful of big white teeth that probably dazzled most women instantly. But then he spoke, spoiling the illusion. “Hey, I haven’t asked you to marry me yet. Relax, okay?”
With that he led the way inside.
Hunter nearly groaned aloud as he saw Jenny Holloway enter with a companion. The guy had blond hair, cut short and sort of spiky, a killer tan that looked as if it had been obtained by careful hours in the sun, jeans tight enough to split, and a black shirt open to the navel. A quick first impression would have put him in his early twenties, but the kind of intense visual inspection Hunter had learned to quickly give perps told him that the man was over thirty. Who the hell was he? And why was she with him?
The answer clicked in almost as quickly as the thought he was a guest of the villa. And he was being incredibly familiar with Jenny … and she wasn’t liking it one bit. Hunter eased back and watched. He stayed to one side of the bamboo-framed doorway between the room they’d entered and the one where he’d taken a table.
She wasn’t certain what to do. She looked everywhere but at her companion, absentmindedly rubbing her throat with one hand, as if she were incredibly hot, or incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe both, considering the rather steamy heat of the place, a heat that was as yet unrelieved by the deepening sky. For once, no breeze seemed to be coming from the ocean. The whole restaurant felt still and close.
He was torn between walking forward and appropriating Jenny on the spot, and melting back into the shadows, content to keep up his silent surveillance. He would have liked to observe her longer, but they had made a date and that wasn’t going to work. So, after a long moment he emerged from the darkened doorway and walked into the room behind the maitre d’ who stood ready to seat them.
She looked up, saw him, and the smile she sent his way both flattered his ego and pricked Hunter’s conscience. She was starting to rely on him, and he wasn’t a man who could be relied on. Not in that way. Not in any way that mattered beyond pure safety.
“Hello, there,” she said, then glanced at the blond man uncertainly. Hunter flicked him a look that conveyed his disinterest, but the man did a classic double take at him. He blinked several times, took a step away from Jenny, then crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Hunter.
“I—um—brought reinforcements,” Jenny said. “Matt is staying at the villa with us. Matt, Hunter Calgary.”
Matt reluctantly thrust out one sweaty paw. “Matt Kilgore.”
Hunter shook his hand. The guy was about two inches shorter than he was, and had the pampered, pouty look of a mama’s boy. He had to be after her money, Hunter decided coldly. He’d probably wangled an invitation. Knowing his assessment was undeniably harsh and possibly completely wrong, he asked, “Longtime friends?”
“Oh, no!” Jenny was quick to correct him. “I’ve known Magda and Phil awhile and they arranged this whole trip. Matt and I just met a few days ago.” She looked askance at Matt, who hadn’t said one word.
Hunter gazed at him and he finally said, “Yeah, I know Magda and Phil, too.”
Jenny’s brows lifted. “Oh, I thought you came with Lisa and Jackie.”
“I did. We came together,” he said blasé, glancing around. “There was a spot that opened up, so they had me come along. But I know the Montgomerys pretty well.”
Like hell, Hunter thought. Sounded like he’d mooched aboard this magical mystery tour. And since his job was to keep Jenny out of harm’s way, he put Matt Kilgore into his “keep an eye on” file, something to be examined later more carefully.
The maitre d’ seated them at a table near the ocean. Here the floor actually gave way to the beach and a little sand had drifted into the room through an open doorway. The walls surrounding them were merely removable slats of bamboo to be taken down when the weather changed. A candle in a red holder offered uncertain illumination, and a string of tiny white Christmas lights crisscrossed over the open space of what would have been the roof. From this angle a breeze filtered off the ocean, relieving the stuffiness. The surf was loud, and their voices grew louder just to be heard.
Matt beat Hunter to helping Jenny with her chair. Fine. Let him rush around and make an ass of himself. Besides, it was also better to keep her at arm’s length. Getting too close was dangerous. She was a rich man’s daughter and too pretty to trust.
Pulling his chair back from the table, Hunter sank down and stretched out his legs. His shoe accidentally brushed Jenny’s sandal and she swept her foot back as if contact had electrified her. Matt lit a cigarette and Jenny wrinkled her nose. The princess didn’t like smoke, it appeared, though Matt seemed oblivious to the effect.
Letting out a sigh of contentment, he said, “God, it’s good to be able to smoke. Know how many restaurants don’t allow it anymore? It’s an epidemic. And in California, forget it. You can’t even smoke in the bars. Hell, I don’t know how to drink without a cigarette!”
In a gesture of casual friendship, he tossed the pack in Hunter’s direction. Hunter flicked a look at it. Funny how he’d thought he wanted one a few nights ago; now he had zero urge to indulge.
Jenny had turned away, either from the smoke or from the men themselves. She seemed a bit melancholy all of a sudden, and Hunter, understanding his own malaise, hated seeing her like that. It was all he could do to keep from reaching out and grabbing her hand and saying—what? Some incredibly trite line about everything being all right? Nothing to worry about, now that he was on the job?
He stayed where he was.
Jenny closed her ears to the conversation between Matt and Hunter, concentrating instead on the dull thunder of the ocean, the sound a soft, incessant growl that whipped to a lion’s roar when the winds and waves were beating against the shore. Her expectations for the evening had risen too high, she realized, and Matt’s appearance had brought her back to reality with a bang.
Which was just as well. Having Hunter lounge in that chair, his long denim-clad legs mere inches from her own, his own shirt unbuttoned at the throat, not with the Saturday Night Fever outrageousness of Matt’s but in a rugged, uninhibited, roguish way…. It was enough to do her in. She could scarcely believe it. All this time, all these years of being damn near immune to the opposite sex and now she was overwhelmed by his mere presence. Damn him. He just seemed so utterly … collected.
And she didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
Have a fling. Find romance. Make love all night long. … She nearly covered her face with her hands, embarrassed by her own thoughts.
“Hey, Jenny!” Matt said, slapping his palm down on the table. She jumped about a foot from her chair. “Whoa!” He gave her the once over. “Take it easy!”
She smiled faintly. He was reminding her more and more of a teenager. She was liking it less and less.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked, signaling for the waiter who quickly approached their table.
“Sparkling water?” She glanced at the waiter almost apologetically.
Matt made a disgusted sound and ordered a couple
of shots of tequila. Hunter asked for a beer.
“Wait … no … make it a margarita.”
She needed something stronger than water. Besides, liquid courage sounded like a good idea in the face of rampant sexual thoughts. Actually, it sounded like a bad idea, but she didn’t care. Miss Responsible was taking a night off and that was that.
Matt chattered on while they waited for their order, since neither Jenny nor Hunter could find much to say. When the drinks came, Matt knocked his first shot back, then cocked his head and asked, “So, how do you two know each other?”
“We just met last night.” Jenny glanced at Hunter, who scraped at the edge of his beer label with his thumbnail. He met her gaze, however, and she had to look away quickly.
“Yeah?” Matt glanced at her, then at Hunter. “In Puerto Vallarta?”
“At the Hotel Rosa,” Hunter offered, when Jenny couldn’t seem to think of a response.
“No kidding. And you made a date for tonight.” He pushed his chair back. “Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, you should have let me know what the real deal was between you two.”
“There is no real deal,” she stated evenly, furious with herself for blushing. Thank God for the dim lighting. “We just had an—an encounter here last night with Magda and Phil and the Others. Magda broke her sandal.”
“She fell into my lap,” Hunter supplied with a glint in his eye.
“Jenny?”
“No, Magda,” Jenny explained. “She tripped and spun around and—” She gestured to Hunter’s lap, her gaze resting briefly on his belt and the taut denim before moving away.
“I was thinking about introducing myself,” Hunter drawled, “and the opportunity just dropped into my lap.”
Matt knocked back his second shot. “So, should I stay or not?” he asked, the nicest thing he’d said all night. Nice enough that Jenny stopped feeling so resentful toward him.
“Stay,” she told him, and Hunter wanted to groan yet again. He could see the way she’d softened, and he nearly shook his head in wonder at the susceptibility of females. Didn’t she know? Couldn’t she see? The man was after her for all the wrong reasons.
In Too Deep Page 8