And there was no arguing the fact that Leon Calveto came under that category. She had proof of it. Nita shrugged and led the way to her father's room without further ado.
She hoped that she would be able to make her excuses and leave after a few minutes, returning to the safety of the kitchen until he had gone. But when she started to make noises about leaving the two men to talk together, she found her way blocked. Her father wouldn't hear of it.
'But, Papa, I've so many things to do,' she protested.
'More important than entertaining our guest?' There was reproach in Diego Lopez' voice.
Anything had greater priority than this particular guest, in her view, although she could hardly say so. 'I was settling menus with Josefina—' The pretext sounded thin even as she voiced it.
'Josefina is paid to take care of the day-to-day running of the apartment and to see that it all goes smoothly. If she wants extra help, she has only to say so—I don't want you wearing yourself out.'
'I want to help around the place—'
'And you do, just by being here.' Her father's expression softened. He turned to their visitor. 'You know, Leon, having her home has made all the difference to me.'
'I told you it would.' His glance was enigmatic as it skimmed over Nita's features.
'A man needs his family around him. It's good to be close to someone.' Diego put his arm round Nita's shoulders in a clumsy gesture of affection. 'We've been getting to know each other, my daughter and I, the way we should have done years ago. But there was never time in those days.' He sighed. 'Business, always business—that's all I ever thought about. Take care that it doesn't take over your life the way it took over mine, Leon.'
'I don't think that there's much danger of that,' Leon assured him.
'You work hard. I know the sort of hours you put in.'
The younger man shrugged off the accusation. 'I make time to enjoy myself too.'
'And what sort of pastimes do you enjoy most, Seňor Calveto?' As if she couldn't make a shrewd guess! But Nita's voice was politely bland as she put the question to him.
'This and that. It varies according to my mood.' He eyed her lazily. 'I like sport. I have a competitive streak.'
'You mean you like to win.'
'Doesn't everyone?' he asked. 'Isn't that what life is all about?'
'I suppose most men think so,' she shrugged.
'Whereas women prefer to lose gracefully, of course,' he mocked her. 'They accept their role as the weaker sex.'
'Not at all. They usually gain their ends by less obvious means.'
'They're devious.'
'Subtle,' she corrected.
Diego Lopez gave a shout of laughter and threw his hands up in a gesture of pleasure. 'I think you just met your match, Leon!'
'I never concede a victory while the game continues.' There was a wicked glint in the younger man's eyes. 'If you've no objection, perhaps your daughter and I could pursue the conversation over lunch.'
Diego hesitated, then gave his consent. 'No objection at all. And I'm sure she'd be delighted to join you. Wouldn't you, Nita?'
Nita couldn't think of anything that she would like less. That was why he'd suggested it, she supposed. 'I'd rather stay with you, Papa,' she said carefully.
'Nonsense! You've spent all your time looking after me since you got back. You deserve a little fun.'
Fun! Was that how one described an encounter with Leon Calveto? Not in her book. But there wasn't any point arguing; it was out of her hands. Dutiful Mexican daughters did as they were told. And, this time round, she was doing her best to live up to that standard.
'I'll go and get ready,' she said.
Leon got to his feet to open the door for her and for a second their eyes met, hers registering resentment, his only amused.
He thought that he had scored over her. Well, one encounter wasn't the whole war. Sooner or later, Nita vowed to herself as she went to her room, Leon Calveto would acknowledge that he had bitten off more than he could chew when it came to dealing with her.
In the meantime she had no choice but to fall in with his plans if she wanted to keep her father happy. She frowned at her reflection in a long wall mirror and went to her wardrobe to find a change of clothes. The casual T-shirt and jeans that she was wearing clearly wouldn't do for a lunch date.
How nice it would be to be back in Miami Beach. There almost anything went. Skimpy shorts, low-cut sun-tops, sun-dresses that bared practically all; they were everyday wear and raised no eyebrows. But things were different here in Mexico City, one of the stylish capitals of the world, where formality still ruled when it came to being seen in public.
Nita's hand went out to a chic silk dress. High-necked with long sleeves and a full skirt that swirled elegantly round her legs, it was acceptable in every way—except that its scarlet hue recalled another, less respectable outfit that she had worn in his company.
Not that she cared. She needed the boost that the vibrant colour gave her. She applied her make-up carefully, outlining her lips with scarlet gloss and adding discreet shadow to her eyes. When she returned to her father's room she knew she was looking her best and there was a confident swing to her step.
She paused deliberately in the doorway before going in. If she had learnt one thing from her years in show business, it was how to make an entrance.
'Nita!' Her father's face lit up at the picture she made. 'You look lovely, my dear.'
'Radiant,' Leon Calveto agreed. His eyes mocked her compliance. 'Shall we go?'
She nodded and kissed her father goodbye. 'I'll be back as soon as I can.'
'Take your time. I know you'll be safe with Leon.'
If only she had his faith in the man! she thought wryly. Yet she was conscious of a lift in her spirits as they left the hotel and strolled along in the hazy sunshine towards the Zona Rosa, the fashionable part of town.
It was nice to be going out for a change. And, if her escort wasn't the one man in the world that she would unhesitatingly have chosen from all others to accompany her, she wouldn't have been human if she hadn't noticed and relished the line of bowing waiters who greeted their arrival at the restaurant and the envious glances that she collected from females at other tables as Leon led her past them en route to their own.
'You approve?' he asked after he had seen her seated and supplied with an aperitif.
'Very much.' She nibbled one of the bite-sized tacos that a waiter put in front of her and looked round her in approval at the traditional Mexican decor. The heavy, dark wood of the furniture and fittings contrasted beautifully with the pale, colour-washed walls that were hung with a selection of firearms and touches of colour were supplied by bright posies of flowers on every table. 'In the last few years hamburger joints have been more my scene than exclusive restaurants.'
'And whose fault was that?'
'Oh, mine entirely. I'm not complaining,' she added. 'It taught me how the other half lives.'
'A valuable lesson for a rich man's daughter.'
'A necessary one,' she pointed out. 'It wasn't a case of playing at being poor. When I left home I took nothing with me. I either earned my living or starved.'
'Quite a sharp contrast to the life that you were used to, I imagine.'
'At first,' she agreed. 'But I learnt as I went along. My first jobs hardly paid the rent—'
'And now you're highly sought after and money comes flooding in?'
'Not by your standards, I suppose. And hardly by my father's.' Nita smiled in genuine amusement at the thought. 'But I don't owe anybody anything and I can feed and clothe myself and pay for a roof over my head. And that's not bad in a tough world like show-business.'
'Not bad at all,' Leon agreed.
'Certainly nothing to be ashamed of.'
'Who said it was?' His tone was mild.
What was it about him that put her instantly on the defensive? Nita forced herself to speak calmly, rationally. 'It's on a pretty small scale compared with my fathe
r. He made it from hotel clerk to millionaire in ten years flat.'
'So he told me.'
'So he tells everyone. Every interview he's ever given has had banner headlines about his rise from rags to riches. He's always revelled in the fact.'
'But when it comes to his daughter attempting something of the same kind, it's another story. Is that what you resented?'
'I suppose so. He made it so abundantly clear that nothing was too good for his only child. It grated on me.'
'You mean that he acted like every father before him. He didn't want you to have to struggle the way he did. Can you blame him for that?'
'I did once. I don't know if I still do.' Nita wrestled with the problem. 'Money's no substitute for the real things in life.'
'Perhaps not.' The dark eyes were expressionless. 'But I'm sure most girls would have given anything to be in your shoes.'
'That's what Papa used to say.'
'You didn't believe him, of course.'
She paused before answering him, allowing one waiter to fill her glass with red wine and another to serve her with the dish of her choice, beef garnished with tomatoes and peppers and spiced with a rich avocado sauce. She took a few mouthfuls of the delicious concoction and thought furiously as she did so. It was the first time that anybody had forced her to examine her motives for running away, and it was suddenly occurring to her that they weren't as clear-cut and obvious as she had imagined them to be.
'When I was twelve years old my best friend was Maria, the daughter of one of the hall porters at the hotel. She always envied me because I had a wardrobe of pretty dresses and so many books and toys that I didn't know what to do with them all. I don't think she believed me when I said that she had all the things that I wanted.'
'And what were they?' he prompted as she paused, lost in memories.
'Love, affection, attention.' She reeled off the list without hesitation.
'I'm sure your father loved you.'
She knew that now; but then she had been uncertain. 'Children need proof that they're loved,' she told him. 'I didn't notice until my mother died. I was eight then and suddenly I felt the cold. Other children had two parents to talk and play with them and take them on holidays, but I only had one, and he was always too busy to be bothered. Sometimes I didn't see him for days on end. He was never there when I needed him—birthdays, school prize-givings, that sort of thing. It hurt.'
'That was hard,' Leon agreed, and she looked at him quickly, expecting to see the usual sarcasm on his face. But, for once, it was absent.
'Being a rich man's daughter isn't easy,' she said. 'The older I got the more I realised that.'
'And the more you disliked the position?'
She took up her wine and savoured its rich, full-bodied flavour. 'Is that so strange?' she asked.
'Not at all. Rebellion is a fairly fashionable thing for those with time on their hands and nothing better to do.'
'I wasn't following fashions,' she protested. 'I had genuine grievances.'
'Really?' That sceptical note was back again.
Nita tossed her head defiantly. 'Yes, really. I don't suppose they featured very much in my father's version of events, if he mentioned them at all.'
'Tell me,' he commanded her.
'You're really interested?' She looked at him, surprised.
'Do I seem so self-centred and uncaring?'
'Not at all. When it suits you, you can be very sympathetic. To my father, for instance.'
'You mean that it hasn't suited me to put myself out in your case?'
'Let's just say that you haven't wasted much sweetness and light on me in the course of our brief acquaintance,' she said dryly.
'We started off on the wrong foot,' Leon reminded her.
'So we did.'
'That doesn't mean we have to go on that way.'
'Don't tell me you're admitting that you may have misjudged me?'
'I'm admitting nothing,' he said coolly. 'Beyond the fact that you show your worst side to me and I react accordingly.'
'So you're willing to concede that I have a better nature than you gave me credit for at first?'
'Who knows what I might believe if you gave me a little encouragement?'
'Encouragement is the last thing that a man like you needs!' Nita shot back at him instantly.
'There you go again, flaring up at nothing!'
'You make it very difficult not to,' she retorted.
'I'm not used to females who bounce back as quickly as you do.' He gave her a sudden smile.
He looked different when he wasn't frowning at her—approachable, charming, totally irresistible. The sort of man one dreamed about. Damn him! She couldn't fight that attraction. She found herself smiling back at him.
'You're as prejudiced as my father,' she accused him lightly. 'He's got old-fashioned views about women and their place in society.'
'Whereas you're all in favour of the Liberation movement?'
'I'm half American, remember? I believe in freedom. And that means that women should decide for themselves what they'd like to do with their lives.'
'And that didn't happen in your case, I take it?'
Nita pulled a face. 'Women don't have careers, according to my father. And certainly not on a public stage. They keep out of the limelight. They get married and produce children.'
'You're against marriage, then?'
'No, not exactly.' Nita hesitated, then went on. 'My father had someone already lined up for me. I thought arranged marriages went out with the Dark Ages, but it seemed I was wrong.'
Leon laughed at her indignation and she registered another involuntary tug of attraction even as she protested, 'It's not funny!'
'No, I suppose not. Did you dislike the man so much?'
'I'd never met him. I never even heard his name. The idea was quite enough to put me off, so I decided that it was time we had a little straight talking, a father-to-daughter chat of the kind that we'd never had before.'
'And where did it get you?'
'Precisely nowhere. I should have guessed as much.' Nita sobered as she thought back to that last, blazing interview with her father. 'It was rather late in the day for Papa to take a crash course in how to handle me. He played the heavy parent and assumed that I would do what he wanted. He misjudged matters. It was quite a shock to him to discover that I could be as obstinate as he was when it came to something that mattered to me.'
'Something or someone.'
Leon's tone was deceptively bland, but it didn't fool her. So he knew the whole story. Her father must have told him everything.
'Yes,' she agreed. 'Or someone.'
'There was a man.'
'Of course there was a man,' she said impatiently, pushing her empty plate aside. 'I was nineteen, and half the girls I was at school with were married and mothers already.'
'And you thought you'd like to emulate them?'
'I thought I'd like to view the possibilities. It would have been unnatural if I hadn't.'
'And the lad you picked on seemed the best available match?'
Nita felt her cheeks grow warm. 'I thought so at the time, but my father didn't happen to agree with me. He told me to give him up.'
'And instead you ran away with him.'
She glanced uncertainly across at him. How could she explain to a man as assured as Leon Calveto? Had he ever been a callow youth infatuated with a girl? Had he ever thought himself in love, only to discover that it was nothing of the kind? She doubted it somehow. His head would always rule his heart, she suspected.
'I loved Antonio,' she said. 'I thought it would last for ever.'
'Nothing is for ever,' he told her. 'Least of all love.'
'You're a cynic!'
'A realist, perhaps.'
If only she had been more realistic about her relationship with Antonio. What had it amounted to anyway? An introduction at the house of a friend. Mutual attraction. Antonio was a year older than herself, tall, broad-shouldered and
with the kind of flashy good looks that young girls went for.
And she had been no exception. Inexperienced and naive, she had been flattered by his attentions. When her father found out about their friendship and tried to put a stop to it, there had been secret meetings and a few furtive kisses and caresses, nothing more. Not enough to know what he was really like. And, by the time she had found out, it was too late.
'He didn't marry you,' said Leon.
'I didn't marry him,' she said proudly.
Disillusion had set in almost immediately. It had all been so exciting, planning her escape from home and successfully carrying it off when her father was safely away on a business trip. A new life lay ahead, with the chance to use the singing training that she had received. A career on the stage and a husband by her side to support her.
But feelings of anticlimax had quickly surfaced. Antonio hadn't seemed quite as attractive in the sleazy hotel room that had been all they could afford in the small border town where they had taken refuge from possible pursuit until their marriage was safely solemnised.
Antonio had been annoyed because she brought so little money with her. He had none of his own and he was depending upon her to supply the deficiency. Naive she might have been, but it took only a few hours for her to realise that the greatest of her attractions for Antonio was the possession of a wealthy father, who could be talked round to approving his daughter's marriage to a nobody, if matters were presented to him in the right way. For money and money alone, he was prepared to marry her.
'I made a mistake,' she said. 'I lost my reputation—at least by Mexican standards. But fortunately, I didn't commit the ultimate error and marry the man. I found out what he was like in time.'
'Your father was right, in fact.'
'Yes. Not that I was prepared to admit it at the time.'
Leon drained his glass deliberately and set it down. 'You didn't consider going home at that point?'
'What—with my tail between my legs, begging for forgiveness?' Nita laughed shortly. 'No. I've got my fair share of Lopez pride.'
'He would have forgiven you.'
'Yes,' she agreed. 'If I'd said I was wrong to oppose him and run away. If I'd told him that I was truly sorry and promised it would never happen again. But I wasn't, not really. Nothing had changed. I still wanted to be free to make my own decisions about the future. I'd have given up that freedom for ever if I'd tamely gone back at that point.'
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