'I hope so. Where is he?'
Josefina smiled reassuringly. 'Waiting for you in his room. And probably cursing me roundly for keeping you talking out here instead of sending you straight in to him. So you'd better go along to him and not waste any more time.'
Nita needed no further bidding. She made her way eagerly towards her father's door, her apprehensiveness forgotten.
'Nita—' Leon Calveto's voice halted her before she had taken two steps.
'Well?' She had completely forgotten about him.
'Go easy with him,' he said abruptly. 'He's had a tough time.'
'I had realised that.'
'See you remember it, then.'
Did he think she was so insensitive? Nita ignored him, turning her back on his tall figure. She gave a brief rap on her father's door and, taking a deep breath, went in.
'Papa?'
'Nita?'
Both voices were strangely uncertain.
'I've come home, Papa.'
'And about time too.' His tone was a pale shadow of its usual strong command.
'Oh, Papa!' she whispered.
He looked different somehow, drained of his vital energy. He had aged ten years since she saw him last. The dark hair, so like hers, was liberally streaked with grey and his face had lost its ruddy colour. For a moment Nita hesitated just inside the door, then she moved impulsively forward to embrace him and collapse on her knees by the side of the easy chair in which he sat.
'It's been a long time,' he said gently.
'Too long,' she said, blinking furiously to hold back the tears that threatened.
'I thought I wouldn't miss you. But I did.'
For Diego Lopez, the man who had always boasted of his iron control over his emotions, that was quite an admission. He had never told her to her face that he loved her. Perhaps he thought it unnecessary. But now, for the first time, he was letting her know how much he did care.
'I missed you too.' She tried for a lighter note. 'But you didn't need to stage a heart attack just to get me back! A phone call would have done as well.'
He laughed. 'I'll remember that another time.' He sat back in the chair, visibly relaxing, although he retained a tight grip on her hand as if he needed to reassure himself that she was still there.
'I hope there won't be another time.' Nita's voice was low. She didn't want to rake it all up again, but she had to say something. 'What happened three years ago won't happen again. Things should never have gone as far as they did—I realise that now.'
He grunted. 'That's what Calveto said. He told me I was a stiffnecked old fool.'
Trust him to make his views known! But the blame didn't lie all on her father's side. 'And I was a stiff-necked young fool,' she admitted.
'Like father, like daughter. And I always thought you took after your mother.' He was smiling now, pleased at the discovery.
'So did I.' Nita had been reluctant to acknowledge the traits that she shared with her father, but, since she had left home, she had been forced to own to herself that her toughness, her determination to stand on her own feet, her temper when roused, were all qualities that she drew from him, not from her gentle, compliant mother.
'Your mother never minded being told what to do,' he added.
'No.' Her mother had worshipped the ground her domineering husband had walked on. It had never occurred to her to question him. 'But I did. We wanted different things.'
Perhaps they still did. For all the regrets they were uttering over the rift between them there was no indication that there had been a real change of attitude on either side. But it was early days yet. Their new relationship was too shaky, too uncertain to bear discussions of the type that had already brought disaster once. They recognised the fact tacitly and spoke of other things, although Nita could happily have done without Leon Calveto's name being dragged into the conversation.
'What did you make of him?' There was something of her father's old imperiousness in his tone.
She shrugged, assuming a casual attitude that she was far from feeling. Even the mention of the man was enough to make her hackles rise. 'There's hardly been time for me to form an opinion of him. I only met him yesterday.'
'That's twenty-four hours ago.' Diego Lopez gave her a searching look. 'I sized him up in twenty-four minutes, probably less.'
'You're good at making snap judgments,' she reminded him.
'I've had to be.' He didn't contradict her. 'My business life has often depended on it.'
'I suppose so.' It occurred to Nita to wonder what was happening to the business, but she didn't comment on it. She supposed her father's deputy, Jose Guerrero, would have taken control for the moment. It would be a while before anyone knew whether Diego was well enough to take back command. She imagined it was too soon for doctors to give a verdict on that.
'A sound instinct for character is the best asset a businessman can possess,' her father assured her.
'And what did your instincts tell you about Seňor Calveto?'
She already had a shrewd idea. Any man who could call her father a stiffnecked old fool and still remain on speaking terms with him afterwards must have quite a lot going for him.
'He's a young lion. They named him well there. He reminds me of myself at that age. Of course I didn't have his advantages—I came up the hard way, I started with nothing.'
'Yes, Papa.' Nita hid a smile. How many times before had she heard that boast. 'I gather Seňor Calveto didn't?'
'No. He comes from a wealthy background. His grandfather built up the family fortune and his father doubled it. They were both very able men. But I think he'll outstrip them both in achievements, given time and opportunity.'
'He certainly seems very sure of himself,' she said. She tried to keep the sour note out of her voice, but failed.
'You don't like him?'
'Do my feelings matter?' she fenced lightly. 'I told you, I barely know him.'
'He's been good to me, Nita. I'd like you to be friends.'
Was it possible for a woman to have a friendship with a man like Leon Calveto? She doubted it somehow. He demanded total capitulation from any female with whom he came into contact. Nita thought of Sandy and her stupidly besotted expression when she spoke his name. She thought of Mercedes Cardenas, hardly able to drag her eyes away from him. Nita told herself that she would rather be dead than let him see adoration for him in her eyes ever.
'Nita?'
Her father sounded faintly querulous and she felt suddenly guilty. In his present state of health she should be humouring him, not arguing about something that didn't matter in the least.
'He's been good to both of us,' she said quickly. 'If it hadn't been for him, we wouldn't be talking together now. But there's only one man who matters in my life at present, and that's you, Papa. I want to see you get well.'
He gave her a tired smile and squeezed her hand. She realised now that the interview had taken more out of him than she had imagined possible. She had never known her father ill before. It was a new experience for both of them and one that would take a little getting used to.
'I'll leave you to rest now,' she said. 'Is there anything I can get for you?'
He shook his head as if it was suddenly an effort for him. 'I'll be all right.'
'I'll see you later, then.'
Nita closed the door softly behind her and almost cannoned into Leon Calveto as she turned abruptly round towards the sala. She started, her nerves jarring at the sight of him.
'I thought you would have gone by now,' she said ungraciously.
'Without saying goodbye to you?' His eyes mocked her.
'I think I could have survived the experience.'
'How is he?' His head jerked in the direction of the room she had just left.
'Tired right now. He needs to rest.'
'That's only to be expected. It must have been quite an emotional half hour for him.'
'But not for me, of course,' Nita said tartly.
'I didn't
say that.'
'You didn't need to. You've made your feelings crystal clear. You think I don't give a damn about my father, don't you? I wonder if the Prodigal Son had the same problem when he decided to come home?'
'Quite possibly, if he overreacted the way you do.' He sounded unmoved by her anger. 'But there's always a chance that I might change my mind about you. Keep trying.'
'I'll see you in hell first!'
Leon didn't waste time on further arguments. Instead, before Nita could guess what he was about, he acted. Strong arms pulled her towards him as effortlessly as a rag doll, and the surprised 'oh' of disbelief that she was about to utter was blotted out by the pressure of his mouth on hers.
There was no defence against that sure, sensual expertise. He knew what a woman wanted. It took only the touch of him to kindle a response. Reason warred with instinct and fought a losing battle as she felt desire flow through her like a warm tide. She couldn't stop herself.
Leon took his time; he could afford to. He knew that he was in total control of her. And, when he drew away from her, it was his decision to do so, not hers. She wasn't capable of conscious thought.
'So you'll see me in hell, will you?' he said with a faint, derisive smile.
Then he turned and left her alone.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nita was surprised how easy it was to make the transition back to the ways and customs of her old life. She thought and spoke in Spanish again with scarcely a hesitation. She ate the spicy Mexican dishes that Josefina prepared for her without any ill effects whatsoever. She didn't even suffer from the dizziness that the city's mile-high location and pollution-filled atmosphere often induced in visitors and those who had been away from it for any length of time.
She moved back into the room that had been hers since she was a little girl. Somehow she expected all traces of her occupation to have vanished, and she was strangely touched to discover that everything was exactly as she had left it, lovingly cared for by Josefina in the interim.
The first thing she did, even before she unpacked her cases, was to inspect all her treasures. Accumulated and jealously hoarded over the years, there had been too many to take away with her when she left. They filled every available ledge. There was the black paperweight in the shape of a turtle that her father had brought back from some trip or other; the brilliant lacquered box that had been a birthday present from a school friend; a gaudy papier mache representation of the Nativity with Mary and Joseph in Mexican dress that Josefina had bought for her one Christmas long ago.
And, on the table by her bed, her stylized picture of an Aztec warrior god, reproduced from the carved relief of an ancient temple. His worshippers had offered him warm, still beating hearts as a tribute, hoping that he would give them success in battle, but bloodthirsty or not, Nita had always rather fancied him.
She looked at him critically now. There was something horribly familiar about the arrogant tilt to his head and that firm, sensual mouth. They said that those who were sacrificed to the god gave themselves freely, overcome by the power that he had wielded, but Nita had always been sceptical about that.
But now she wasn't so sure. Hadn't Leon Calveto had exactly the same influence over her? She went hot with shame and fury when she recalled what easy victories he had scored over her, despite her protests. What was it about the man? Pure sexual chemistry, she supposed. It was humiliating to have to admit it, but it was true.
And what was to be done about it? If she couldn't control herself in that sort of situation, it was best avoided. And so was he. She would take the easy way out and make sure that they didn't meet.
In fact, it was not the simplest of paths to follow. Leon Calveto was a frequent and welcome visitor to the apartment, and whoever else was put off with pleas of tiredness or the need to follow doctor's orders, he was always allowed in. His calls did her father good, Nita had to admit. He brought news of a world outside that she knew nothing of; gossip about mergers and business ventures, tales of disasters and triumphs; talk of personalities known to them both. And all of it carefully edited to make sure that there was nothing to upset or disturb the patient.
At first Nita kept to her room when he called, venturing out only when the whine of machinery told her that the lift had taken him down to the ground level again. But her father noticed her absence and commented on it.
'You're always missing when Leon is here.'
He had dropped the formalities, she noticed. He spoke about the man like another member of the family. She wasn't sure she liked it.
'I hadn't thought about it,' she lied quickly.
'I had. You're always on hand to meet other visitors, but never for him.'
Her father's powers of observation were as keen as ever and she cursed them while inventing an excuse. 'He's the only caller who doesn't outstay his time and tire you out. Everyone else would have you dead from exhaustion if I didn't come in and keep an eye on things.'
'Maybe.' But he wasn't convinced.
'And anyway, I'd be bored stiff listening to business talk and you know it. High finance isn't my scene.'
'Leon would know better than to concentrate his attention on business with a lady present,' her father assured her. 'He's not such a boor.'
'No.' Nita's voice was noncommittal. She wondered how her father would react to some of the things that she could disclose about the party manners of his favourite guest. But she said nothing. After all, she didn't come out of the telling too well either.
She managed to avoid the next two visits by dint of carefully timed shopping expeditions. And then her luck ran out. She couldn't dodge Leon for ever, she knew, and, when the doorbell rang a couple of days later as she was in the kitchen talking to Josefina, she knew the moment of truth had come.
'It'll be Seňor Calveto, I expect.' Josefina had her hands full of damp washing that she was unloading from the machine. 'Could you let him in, seňorita? We mustn't keep him waiting.'
'No, that would never do.'
As she went reluctantly out of the room Nita was aware of the housekeeper's disapproving look following her. Like every other female between the ages of nine and ninety Josefina had fallen under Leon Calveto's spell. As far as she was concerned he had every virtue known to man. Charm, good looks, money, style, a kind heart: the list was well nigh endless. And a bachelor too!
It was a great pity that no one besides herself seemed capable of seeing the other side to the man, Nita thought as she headed for the front door: ruthless, domineering, obstinate, arrogant and a lot else besides.
She opened the door to him, pinning a stiff smile of welcome on her face.
'Well, this is a surprise. What happened? Did you get tired of finding excuses to avoid me?' The mockery that was never far from his voice was there in full strength today.
'Avoiding you?' She gave a careless laugh. 'Why would I want to do that?'
'You tell me. But you're never around when I'm here, so I drew the obvious conclusion.'
'And what was that?' she asked.
'That you were scared that what happened last time we met might happen again.'
Bang on target as usual. Was there anything he didn't know about the workings of the female mind? Nita doubted it.
He was wearing a cream suit today with a dark shirt and tie. The well-cut trousers hugged his hips and clung to his thighs and the jacket emphasised his breadth of shoulder. He looked wickedly attractive and she was quite sure that he knew it.
Machismo. That was the word they used in this part of the world for the quality that Leon Calveto possessed in abundance. That indefinable something that sets a man apart from the common herd—a man's idea of what a man should be. And a woman's too. Despite herself Nita felt her senses stir.
'I've been busy,' she said hastily, neither denying nor confirming his charge. 'When my father came out of hospital there was a nurse engaged to look after him. But he said she fussed too much and sent her packing after a week, and Josefina's had to manage o
n her own since then. So I've been giving her a bit of a break and helping out where I can.'
'From hellcat to homebird in the space of a few days?' He sounded lazily amused.
'You find it hard to credit?'
'Well nigh impossible. You must be bored out of your mind.'
Nita was finding it hard to fill her days, if truth were told. Even spending as much time as she did with her father, she had hours to spare every day when he rested. And Josefina had everything so well organised that there was hardly a useful contribution to be made in that line, although she had just claimed otherwise. She was back to square one, precisely where she had been before she left home—a lady of leisure who disliked the life.
'Don't tell me you care?' she said.
'Is there any reason why I shouldn't?'
She shrugged. 'I'd have thought you were far too concerned with your other affairs to bother wondering whether I'm happy or not.'
'My other affairs?' The dark eyes narrowed slightly as he stressed the final word.
'Your business interests,' she amended hastily. 'What's the matter? Did you think I meant Mercedes Cardenas?'
'She crossed my mind.'
'She would!' Nita snapped waspishly.
'Jealous?' he asked.
'Not in the least. She's very welcome to you as far as I'm concerned.'
He looked amused. 'I'll tell her, shall I? No doubt she'll be relieved to hear it.'
'No doubt. I'm sure she worships the ground you walk on.'
'You think so? It's never occurred to me to ask her.'
'Do you need to?' she said sourly. 'Don't you take female devotion for granted?'
'If I did I'd be at a loss to explain your behaviour,' he drawled.
'I'm the exception that proves the rule.'
'Really?' The corner of his mouth lifted mockingly. 'I don't like making exceptions.'
'I'm afraid you'll have to in my case.'
'We'll see about that,' he said, unabashed. 'And now perhaps we'd better join your father. He'll be wondering what I'm doing to you out here.'
'Doesn't he trust you?' Nita taunted him.
'No Mexican trusts a red-blooded male with his daughter.'
Lions Walk Alone Page 6