"Ricardo say," Jose began in halting English, "this is not his baby. The sister of his wife is only sixteen. She has no husband and left the baby here. But Ricardo, he has too many children of his own to feed. He want you to know he would never do this if it was his own child. And he know you take good care of this baby."
"Certainly. Oh, yes. Of course, we'll take good care of her. Like our own." Nick nodded curtly, in complete agreement with everything that was being said.
Alex felt as though a movie was playing before her and she was somehow standing apart from it.
Even Nick wasn't himself. She didn't know whether to believe Ricardo's story or not. If it were true, then this child definitely was not the missing Jenni. Ricardo left the room. From the rear of the house muffled sobs could be heard—a woman's cry.
Oh God! It's her baby! He’s taking her baby. Alex felt dizzy and clung desperately to Nick.
Ricardo reappeared with a small child clinging to his neck. She turned her tawny pixie face away from the strangers and buried it against his shoulder. Alex could see the man go rigid as the child frantically clutched the one person she trusted. Yet he was about to betray her! Instinctively, Alex reached out to pet the child's sturdy back. Yes, she was tiny, but well-fed. And barely over a year old. She definitely was not Jenni.
Nick watched Alex's reaction until she whispered, "It isn't her." Large tears rose unbidden in her eyes and she bit her lip, trying to control the raging sobs that threatened.
"Raul," Nick began haltingly. "This child, she just isn't right for us. You see, we were looking for one who was a little older."
"What's wrong, senor? This is fine baby!" Raul's voice was angry. "Why are you backing out of the deal?"
"Nothing is wrong with her. She's a fine baby. Like you said, very beautiful. I'm sorry, Raul. But, my wife . . ." He stepped back and motioned to Alex. Obviously, her role was that of the strange wife who couldn't be pleased. She was the reason they were refusing to buy the child.
Alex lifted her face in agony to the circle of men and shook her head, unable to speak. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. She was playing the role to perfection. Only deep inside, Alex knew the tears were for real.
Nick stuffed a twenty into Ricardo's hand, the one holding the baby, and said to Raul, "Tell him to buy his children some milk and bread. Explain about my wife, that we're very sad this didn't work out. And here. You take this for your trouble." He gave Raul another bill and pushed Alex toward the door.
They left amid a noisy commotion. The men were angry. The child began to whimper, and in the distance, a woman's cries of joy could be heard. Alex's legs, her whole body, were numb. She wanted to scream, to sob hysterically, but she kept a stoic face. They were leaving without her precious Jenni.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"I could easily hate you, Nick Diamond, for putting me through that. Only, I know you aren't responsible for what happened."
"Thanks a lot. You probably won't believe this, but I hated what we went through too. I wish I could say it won't happen again, but I can't guarantee it. It might happen again and again . . . until we catch the bastards." Nick stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked down the street. "Until we find her."
Alex hurried after him, simply because there was no other alternative. "Where are we going? Do you plan to walk back to the airport?"
"No. There's a restaurant a few blocks away. I thought we'd—"
"I don't want to eat. I want to go home!"
"Can't."
"Can't? Why not?"
"Have to wait. At this restaurant. I have more business."
"Well, I'm tired and emotionally drained, and I'm ready to leave this place. . . . What business?"
He ignored her question and continued walking. Alex struggled to keep up with Nick's long-legged strides.
"Why don't we just take a cab?"
"I need to walk. Need to think. It isn't far."
Nick seemed preoccupied with other thoughts, and when they reached the restaurant, he took a sidewalk table without a word. Alex gratefully slumped into a chair opposite him and didn't protest when he ordered, "Dos cervezas, por favor."
Finally, he spoke to her: "I know you're disappointed, Alex. So am I. I'm sorry."
"I'm afraid I set myself up for this pain. My expectations were too high." She sipped dejectedly at the beer the waiter brought. "I actually thought we'd find her."
"I tried to warn you. At least you aren't hysterical."
Her indigo eyes narrowed. "It's because I'm keeping a tight lid on my emotions. What I'd really like to do is to scream at the top of my lungs about the cruelty and injustice of everything that's happened recently."
He took a long swig of beer. "I doubt that. You aren't the overly-emotional type, Alex. I think you've been pretty steady through it all."
She leaned forward on the table. "You're forcing me into being the overly-emotional type by exposing me to such heart-wringing situations. That baby ..." She shook her head helplessly.
He touched her hand in a soft gesture, a gentle caress, then rested his large hand over hers. "I think you've done very well, Alex. You played your wifely role to perfection and held yourself together at that house. I realize it was tough, especially knowing this child wasn't Jenni."
She snatched her hand away from his. "Don't placate me, Nick Diamond. They almost sold that child."
"What do you want from me, if not understanding?"
"I want you to find Jenni!" Her voice rose.
"It isn't the simplest request you could make," he growled. "You never know what will come of this. Raul may come back with another offer."
"Another child?" She pitched forward and rested her forehead in her hand. "Oh, God, Nick. How could he?"
"Maybe another one. Or he may find Jenni."
Alex turned her face away and took a deep breath. "Raul was repulsive. Only interested in money."
"Yes, Alex. That's what we're dealing with here. People whose only interest is making money. They're cold, hard-hearted bastards. When are you going to get that through your stubborn head?"
She cast angry eyes at him but said nothing. Alex wanted to hate Nick but she couldn't. She wanted to cry, but tears wouldn't come. She wanted to go home, wanted to do anything but sit here and drink beer with him. Yet Nick had other plans, other concerns. She'd never felt so torn apart.
The waiter returned and Nick asked, "Do you like fish? They fix the best red snapper, pargo a la Veracruzana, that I've eaten."
"I'm not hungry."
"You need food. We haven't eaten all day." He gave the order anyway and the waiter left.
"Here. I won't be needing this." Alex reached across the table and placed the gold band on the table before him.
Nick's eyes dropped to the ring, then lifted to hers. "We may have to use it again, you know."
"I hope not. I hated every minute of it."
"It wasn't that bad, was it?"
"Only the 'my sweet' part . . . and in the restaurant, when you were such an obnoxious bastard . . . and at the house, when they brought out the baby."
"I thought I made an understanding husband. You were a very convincing wife." Nick smiled for the first time in hours.
Alex softened, ever so slightly, and smiled too. "It just shows that in a pinch, I, too, can act . . . my sweet."
"The act's over now." He matched her sarcasm then glanced around warily. It was a motion he would repeat many times while they sat there.
The waiter brought the spicy fish, and they ate in silence. In spite of her protests, Alex found she was starved. She couldn't help wondering if the act was truly finished. Would they have to go through this again in the search for Jenni? Was this whole thing an act for Nick? Even his kisses?
They topped off the meal with coffee and flan. Nick took his time and chatted aimlessly about local customs and history. They had more coffee and he relayed stories about the biggest, longest, and meanest fish caught in Guaymas. They'd been there abo
ut two hours when Alex realized he was dallying.
Finally, before she could confront him, she understood the reason for the delay. Or part of the reason.
"Are you El Capitan?" A boy of about twelve stood by their table.
"Sì." Nick nodded.
The boy handed Nick a slip of paper and was gone in a flash. Nick slid the paper inside his shirt, quickly paid the bill, and ushered Alex away. They took a cab immediately. Digging out the paper, he scanned it then ripped it apart and stuffed it into two different pockets.
"Delayed," he muttered. "Damn!" He gave directions to the cab driver then turned to Alex. "Plans have changed."
"What plans? I thought—"
"My plans. We'll have to spend the night here."
"What? Why?"
His eyes were hard and dark. He glanced behind the cab as if checking to see if they were being followed. "No questions, remember?"
A sudden chill went through Alex, and she wondered what in hell she'd gotten herself into. Who was this man beside her? And what was he doing? In all the time she'd spent with Nick, she still couldn't answer the questions she had about him. She still didn't know him.
It was a modest hotel by American standards. Alex walked into the cool, clean-smelling room and pushed down on the near corner of the bed. It seemed adequate enough. She peered around curiously. The shower was small, but completely tiled; the walls were white-stucco and decorated with framed charcoal drawings of Mexican women in the marketplace.
At the end of the room a window overlooked a lush courtyard. People milled about, bringing food and arranging decorations. Musicians gathered on a small stage, tuning their instruments. Obviously, they were getting ready for a party. Alex turned away. The thought of gaiety repulsed her.
She could hear Nick in the room next door and leaned her body against their adjoining wall as if to absorb more of his sounds. What was it about the man that drew her to him and scared her at the same time? Here she was, spending the night in a strange place because of his so-called plans. And she had no idea what his plans were. How she fit into them, or even why she was here.
She heard his door click and realized Nick was leaving the room. Maybe he was coming in here to see her. She waited and listened breathlessly, suddenly aware that that was exactly what she wanted him to do. The sound of his footsteps, however, receded down the hall, and she felt a small, sad pang.
Alex took a deep breath and tried to shake her mounting melancholy mood. Maybe a shower would help. She pulled the blouse over her head, slipped out of the skirt and then her underwear. Standing barefoot on the cold, Mexican-tiled floor, she looked down at her gently rounded breasts and wondered if Nick liked a woman with a larger bosom. She pressed a palm to her flat stomach and the feminine curve between her hip bones. She wondered what it would be like to have Nick touch her there, and to feel him inside her. Shaking the thoughts away, she adjusted the water and stepped inside. With gratitude for the warm wetness, she turned her dusty face up to the refreshing spray.
Nick made a quick call to Jose, explaining the delay, then chatted amiably with the hotel manager. There would be a wedding soon, and hotel guests were invited to participate in the celebration. Feeling dusty and mentally fatigued, Nick made his way back down the hall. A brisk shower was what he needed. Then he would tell Alex about the wedding celebration. Maybe it would cheer her to attend.
She was angry with him. He could feel it. Hell, maybe she had a right to be. All he'd done was build her hopes up, only to dash them today in that house with the earthen floors.
Nick stood beside the door to his room and paused. He heard something. The sound came from Alex's room, the mournful sound of someone crying. He hesitated. Should he let her alone? But he couldn't leave her like this.
He knocked softly. "Alex?" He pressed on the latch and the door opened. She hadn't even bothered to lock her door! Nick entered swiftly, prompted by the sight of her sobbing.
She sat against the wall that separated her room from his, a towel wrapped around her slender body, her hair dripping wet from a recent shower. She hadn't even taken time to dry off and beads of water glistened on her bare shoulders and arms. She gazed, sobbing, at a charcoal drawing of a little girl, a dark-eyed Mexican child with unruly curls. A child who resembled Jenni.
"Oh God, Alex." Nick knelt beside her and turned her away from the framed picture. "There, there," he murmured clumsily, not knowing what else to say.
With his arms around Alex, Nick helped her stand up and gathered her protectively to his chest. He pressed her tightly to him and held her there until the two seemed as one, sharing the same passions, the same feelings. Without the encumbrance of words, his body told her of his caring.
Alex let Nick hold her, willingly relinquishing her limp body to his encompassing embrace. Like a child, she buried her face against his shoulder and cried until she felt a release of frustrations and grief that had built up over the last week. Everything had reached a dramatic peak today in the little Mexican house.
Nick's shoulder was sturdy and sheltering, just as she'd imagined it would be. When Alex's sobbing abated, she could hear the steady beat of his heart, strong and reassuring. She savored the sound and stood very still, listening, not allowing any other thoughts to crowd her mind. Nick was with her now and he would make things right. El Capitan could take care of everything.
His hand caressed her wet hair then slid to the bare skin of her neck, pressing her head to his chest. She was still wet from the shower and he ran his other hand down her slick back. Oh, how he wanted to touch her all over like that. To dry her with his hands.
"It's been a week," she said, turning her face to the side. She wiped some of the tears away. "And, when I saw that . . . that drawing on the wall ... I remembered Jenni and ..."
"It's been a hard week for you, Alex."
"Nick . . . I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"I . . . didn't intend to lose control. To get super-hysterical on you."
"You aren't, Alex. Anyway, you deserve a good cry after all you've been through. I've been too rough on you."
"Why didn't you leave me alone just now? Let me cry."
"I couldn't. . . ."
"Nick . . . what will happen to her?"
"To Jenni?"
"No. To the little one we saw today."
He sighed heavily. "I don't know."
"Do you think they'll find another buyer for her?" Alex's voice quivered when she spoke.
"We can't rectify every injustice we encounter, Alex. We have to concentrate on our own. Jenni is our main concern."
Struggling with his reasoning, Alex finally nodded against his chest. "You're probably right. I've got to get tough. I just hate leaving that little kid in that situation. Unwanted."
“Someone wanted her. The woman crying in the back room, probably her mother.”
Alex began to wiggle and Nick loosened his hold. "I think you're pretty generous, letting me cry all over your shirt like this." She reached up and stroked futilely at the wet spots on his shirt, at the same time petting the hard chest behind those spots.
"It gave me an excuse to hold you."
"An excuse?" She lifted her head. "Nick, the act's over, remember?"
"Act?" he repeated roughly. "Can't you tell when I'm being honest? Surely you've known . . . felt . . . that I wanted to do this." He kissed the back of her neck and her slick, bare shoulder. She was still wet and tasted sweet and fresh. He wanted to relish every moist, feminine inch of her!
She tried to ignore the rush of warmth that filled her when his lips caressed her like that. "I'm all right now."
"Maybe crying was what you needed."
"Sometimes a woman just needs to be held. Does this go along with the job, Nick?"
"You know better, Alex." He kissed her mouth, then slid his lips down a moist trail along the sensitive column of her neck. He tried not to notice that the towel was loose around her breasts. But his male instincts knew it had sli
pped to reveal the rose-hewed areolas encircling her nipples. Through the thin towel, he could tell they were tight and alert. Unable to resist the delicious sight, he dipped his face to the rounded tops of her breasts. His tongue lapped away the honeyed moisture gathered between them, then laved each tip.
"Alex ... oh, God, Alex ..." His voice was throaty and he could feel the swell of desire as he pressed his lips to her silky skin. His large hand cupped one half-clad breast and gently squeezed its cushiony softness. Oh, how he was tempted to rip the towel from her and take her right there on the cold, tiled floor! And, from the looks of her, he would encounter no resistance.
Alex leaned her head back against the wall and arched her breasts against his tantalizing kisses, content to enjoy the pleasure of her own mounting desire. His mustache brushed languidly across her sensitive flesh, awakening fresh sensations as her entire body grew tight and aching for his fulfillment. Ahhh, Nick's cool kisses were soothing, yet they lit a fire in her that threatened to consume them both.
He knew how to kiss her properly, knew exactly how to make her want him. And, oh God, did she! She wanted him to kiss her all over like this.
But she couldn't let that happen. She didn't know him completely . . . couldn't trust him. This was all a part of the act. She and Nick had other things to accomplish and nothing should interfere.
She opened her eyes and drew a shaky breath. She was excited by the erotic sight of him hovering over her, kissing her, a man obviously wracked by passion. It was thrilling to know that Nick's desire was for her. It was what she had wanted all along. But she had to resist.
"Nick we can't lose control here." She squirmed to an upright position.
He lifted his head and looked at her for a moment, his dark eyes wildly passionate. He wanted her, oh, yes, he wanted her. But not like this. She wanted him too. But he could see the reluctance in her eyes, the apprehension, the distrust. Where was the restraint he'd promised himself from the beginning? Only one week with Alex and he was on the verge of toppling her into bed. "Alex, you're beautiful," he muttered as a way of explanation.
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