'Maybe. So you went it alone?'
'Yes.'
'That was courageous of you.' There was a hint of admiration in Leon's voice.
Nita shrugged. 'I was desperate.'
'So you went north and found work in America.'
'Yes.'
He made it sound so simple, but it hadn't been. The first few months had been the hardest in her pampered existence. She had taken any number of casual jobs to keep herself fed and housed—waitress, laundry-room maid, cleaner, helper in a supermarket stacking cabinets with frozen food.
And, in the evenings, when she had come back from work almost too tired to put one foot in front of another, she had washed and changed and gone the rounds of the all-night diners, truck drivers' stop-overs and the like, looking for a job as a singer and taking anything that she was offered just to get a little experience. She sang for nothing more than her supper on many an occasion.
'It must have been tough,' Leon commented.
She laughed. 'That's the understatement of the year! Yes, it wasn't all roses. But I survived.'
'And emerged from the process a better person, do you think?'
'Tougher, certainly. It opened my eyes to a lot of things.'
'And closed them to others, it would seem.'
'Such as?' she queried.
'Feelings. Emotions.'
'They only make one vulnerable,' she shrugged. 'I prefer to do without them.'
'That's a pity,' he said.
'Why?'
'You must miss out on a lot of worthwhile opportunities.'
'Such as the chance to be another scalp hanging from your belt?' she asked sweetly. 'I think I'll survive the experience.'
'Perhaps.' There was a glint of devilry in his eyes as he spoke. 'You might, however, be persuaded to change your mind.'
'I wouldn't take bets on that,' said Nita.
'Wouldn't you?'
The confidence in his voice scared her.
CHAPTER FIVE
In the days that followed Nita's father improved steadily and, for the first time, he ventured out of the apartment for a short walk. But the pleasures of the nearby Chapultepec Park soon palled on him and within two weeks of Nita's return home he was agitating to be allowed to visit the country club that he had always patronised on the outskirts of the city for a game of golf with his cronies.
His recovery was such that his doctor gave his consent, and the outing was successful. It was the first of many. Sometimes the chauffeur drove them out there, sometimes Nita took the wheel. But, more often than not, Leon Calveto found time to take them in his own car.
Thrown into his company with no choice but to suffer it willingly or give offence and upset her father, Nita made the best that she could of the situation, and since the day that he had carried her off for lunch an uneasy state of truce had existed between herself and Leon.
Uneasy on her side at least. She was wary of him, scared that he might try to implement his threat of making her fall for him. In a way she was almost sorry that she had let him lure her into talking about herself and her past. It had shown him her vulnerable side, and she sensed that he would exploit her weakness to the full if it suited his purposes to do so.
But, without his escort at the country club, she would have spent long, boring hours on her own while her father and his friends occupied themselves on a leisurely circuit of the golf course. The club offered any number of sporting activities to its members, but a woman on her own was not best placed to enjoy them.
With Leon she would stroll round the spacious club grounds, returning to the shade of the members' patio where staff would serve them with cool drinks and savoury snacks while they waited for Diego Lopez and his opponents to join them after the game. They discussed everything under the sun. Leon had firm views on most subjects, she discovered. Art, music, politics, history; he could talk about them all with interest and knowledge.
Often Nita's ideas were diametrically opposed to his and the discussions would be fast and furious. She didn't like the man, she kept telling herself. And she didn't trust him an inch. Yet, in a strange sort of way, she found herself relaxing her guard and enjoying their verbal sparring matches, encounters from which he invariably emerged the winner, but where she often managed to give a good account of herself. Unlike any man she had met before he tested her wits to the utmost, and she found it a not unpleasant experience.
But the man who lay beneath that polished, sophisticated exterior revealed little of himself to her. She knew his favourite restaurants and the sort of films that he liked to see. She knew that he disliked opera because it bored him, although he enjoyed the theatre; the sort of superficial details that she might have discovered about any new acquaintance.
But the real Leon Calveto defied analysis. Whenever she tried to dig a little deeper she found herself up against a blank wall. She suspected it was a deliberate ploy on his part to intrigue her. And if it was, he had chosen the one way that was likely to succeed. She was curious to know what made him tick, and the more he denied her the knowledge the more she delved for it.
'How is it that you're able to get away from the office so much during the week?' she asked him on one such occasion. He said remarkably little about his business activities. She had only the haziest idea of what he actually did.
In slacks and a short-sleeved sweater, unbuttoned at the neck to show a tanned chest, only slightly flecked with dark hair, he looked the picture of casual ease as he walked beside her. He was a long way from the hardworking executive that he was supposed to be.
Her question seemed to amuse him. 'I'm the boss,' he said. 'I don't have to answer to anyone.'
'Except yourself when it goes bust.'
'It's not in any immediate danger of doing that.'
'Thus the idle rich,' Nita observed tartly. 'I didn't think that you were a playboy type.'
'I worked hard to get where I am. Do you grudge me a little time off occasionally?'
'A little time off?' Nita queried. 'You've been favouring us with quite a lot of your company lately, haven't you?'
'I haven't heard your father objecting.'
'He doesn't see as much of you as I do, of course.'
Leon gave her a quizzical look. 'Bored with me, Nita?'
Only a man who was absolutely sure of his appeal to women could put a question like that and await the answer with a confident gleam in his eye the way that he was doing now.
'I'm tempted to say yes,' she said dryly. 'Just to wipe that smug look off your face.'
'Trying to dent my ego?'
'An impossible task.'
'I'm glad you realise it. It's always best to accept the inevitable gracefully.'
What exactly did he mean by that? Nita shot him a quick, suspicious glance, but his expression remained bland. 'I don't waste time trying to achieve things that don't really interest me,' she said.
'Like my reformation?'
'That's one of them.'
'I'm relieved to hear it.'
They walked on, taking a path that led down to the small stream that meandered through the club grounds. Trees hung low over the water, providing a welcome and secluded screen from the sun and the wild flowers that had been allowed to flourish there made bright patches of colour against the green of the grass.
At weekends it was a popular spot and was often unpleasantly crowded. Today, however, they had it to themselves.
'Peaceful, isn't it?' Nita stood still, listening to the gurgle of water as it trickled past. 'And so beautiful.'
'Very.' But Leon wasn't admiring the scenery; he was looking straight at her.
She felt suddenly, strangely jumpy. She went over to the edge of the stream and bent absentmindedly to dabble her hand in the water. How cold it was, although the sun was shining. Quite numbing. Or was that the effect of what she had just heard, catching her off balance?
He stood looking at her, a gleam of something—she didn't know what—in his eyes. Was he mocking or serious? She c
ouldn't tell; she never could with him.
'What's the matter, Nita? Have none of the men in your life ever told you that you look good?'
'Frequently.' She was surprised how cool and steady her voice sounded when every nerve was on edge, sensing danger.
'So why should it throw you when I do the same?'
'It doesn't.'
'No?' He took a step towards her. And then another.
Nita straightened up slowly. If she moved backwards she would be in the water. If she went forward she went towards Leon. Instead she stayed where she was, rooted to the spot.
'You don't have to pay me compliments,' she said.
'No, I don't have to. And I don't have to spend any time with you either if I don't choose to. So why do you think I do?'
'I couldn't say,' she shrugged.
'Not even venture a guess?' he mocked her.
He was close to her now, so close that she could smell the tangy scent of the cologne that he used. She shivered slightly as his arms went round her and pulled her back to him, away from the edge of the bank.
'You intrigue me,' he said.
'Is that all?'
'No, that's not all. But I've always believed actions speak louder than words.'
His mouth claimed hers in the kiss that she had been half dreading, half desiring from the start. She had always known that one day it would not be enough for them just to toss words at each other, and now that day had come. Her lips parted, responding to the urgency of Leon's demands, incapable of resisting him. She let him pull her closer to him, feeling the hard strength of his body against hers as she pressed herself to him.
She wanted him as she had never wanted a man in her life before. She could feel sensation racing through her, stirring her, arousing her to a sudden consciousness of her body and its needs. She made no effort to stop him as his practised fingers sought and found the tiny buttons that fastened the front of her blouse and teased them apart to caress the soft swell of her breasts.
She felt the sudden coolness of the grass against her back as he eased her to the ground and covered her body with his. And then she was oblivious to everything but the touch of him, the hard, taut feel of him as he pressed closer to her, the brush of his lips bringing her further pleasure as they sought the hollow at the base of her throat and then descended to make a lazy exploration of each breast.
She gave a little cry of pleasure as his hands roved over her, seeking out the secret places of her and bringing them unimagined delight. First tentatively, then with increasing boldness, she caressed him too. She had little experience in how to please a man. Instinct and that alone guided her as her hands wandered over him, teasing, stroking, touching. She pushed aside his shirt to run her fingers across the smooth plane of his back, feeling the play of his muscles as he moved against her.
He wanted her—she could tell that from his quickening breathing and the increasing urgency of his movements. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, And he was going to have her, here and now. Then as he held off her, his hand going to the belt of his trousers, the awareness of what she was doing struck Nita with the suddenness of a douche of icy water.
What was she thinking of, to give herself blindly, insanely, to Leon Calveto of all people? There was nothing between them, no finer feelings, no affection, no coming together of hearts and minds. This was an animal attraction, a purely physical coupling that had nothing to do with higher emotions.
'No!' she said abruptly, and tried to push him aside, revulsion suddenly taking hold of her.
'What do you mean, no?' There was passion in his face.
'I don't want to. Let me go!' Nita struggled to free herself.
If he chose to go on, she knew she wouldn't have a chance against his superior strength. For a moment she thought she had left it too late, that she had failed. And then he moved away from her. She could tell from his face the effort that it cost him.
'I'm sorry.'
She mumbled the words. How feeble they sounded! God knows what he made of them as an excuse or apology.
'So am I.' Leon wrenched himself away so that there was a distance between them, his breathing still quick and ragged. 'You picked a fine time to change your mind!'
'I said I was sorry,' she muttered.
'That makes everything all right, I suppose.' His face was a hard mask of anger and frustration.
'No!'
Weakly Nita pulled herself to her feet. He stretched out an automatic hand to help her, but she ignored it. She straightened her skirt and pulled the edges of her blouse together. Her hands shook as she fumbled to do up the buttons, making the task seem endless.
She could feel his eyes on her even though her head was bent away from him. Contempt, rage, disappointment; he must be feeling all those emotions. She was feeling them herself.
She supposed he despised her; in his position most men would feel the same. He thought she was experienced—her every action had led him to believe that she was as eager as he was. And then she had deliberately called a halt to it all.
'There's a name for women who lead men on and then back off,' he snapped. 'If you've tried the trick before, I expect you've heard it.'
He wouldn't believe her if she told him that he was the first man to get that far with her. The first man to make her senses sing, to bring her body alive to that incredible feeling of physical pleasure. Clearly virgins didn't behave in the way that she had done.
'Why?' he asked her curtly.
'Does there have to be a reason?'
'There usually is.'
Nita hesitated.
'Well?'
'We don't even like each other, you and I,' she said. 'That's why.'
'No? I thought we seemed to have developed a reasonable degree of understanding of each other's needs just now.'
'I didn't mean sexually.'
There was faint derision in his face. 'Oh,' he said softly, 'we're talking about the finer emotions, are we? Love, not lust. Is that it?'
'And if it is?'
'There's nothing wrong with that, if it's what you truly believe.'
'And you think I don't.'
Leon laughed shortly. 'We'll discount Antonio Diaz,' he said. 'Because he was the first man in your life and I'm ready to grant that he turned your head. But are you seriously asking me to believe that you were in love with the man who was enjoying your favours back in Miami? What was his name?'
'If you mean Jefferson Peters—'
'That's the one.' His lip curled contemptuously. 'He didn't appear to be labouring under any delusions about you. In fact he seemed quite resigned to sharing you with anyone else who came along. Are you trying to tell me you loved them all? Either you've got a heart as accommodating as they come or you don't know the meaning of the word.'
'And you do, I suppose?' Her fingers itched to slap his face.
'I've clearer ideas on the subject than you have, I think.'
'If you despise my way of life so much, I'm surprised you bother with me at all,' she snapped.
'I told you, you—'
'Ah, yes—I intrigue you. I'm flattered, of course,' she said with heavy sarcasm.
'You should be. It doesn't happen very often.'
Nita supposed not. Most women would willingly lie down and let him trample all over them on their very first meeting with him. Witness Sandy's reaction to him, for example. The times he encountered opposition must be few and far between.
'What happens when it does?' she asked.
Leon shrugged. 'I let matters take their course.'
'Which is? No, don't tell me, I think I can guess.' Nita ticked the points off on her fingers as she spoke. 'Pursuit, capture, submission, enjoyment and then rejection on your part. Am I right?'
'Clever girl,' he said easily.
'Clever enough not to fall for it,' she told him.
'You didn't do too well on the test run.'
'I'll know better in future.'
'Maybe,' he agreed. He glanced at h
is watch as if the subject suddenly bored him. 'Time we were getting back to the club-house, I think. Your father should be through by now.'
For all the world as if what had just passed between them had been nothing more than an idle interlude of no importance at all! For him, perhaps, it had been just that. Afterwards, as they sat in the sun and Diego Lopez treated them to a stroke by stroke commentary of the game that he had just enjoyed, Nita sat unnaturally silent, studying Leon and wondering what to make of him. One thing was certain: she would be very unwise to underestimate the man.
'Nita?'
Her father's voice jerked her back to the conversation that had been only a drone in the background of her thoughts. 'What? Sorry, I was miles away.'
Across the table Leon's glance mocked her. 'Your father was asking if we found enough to entertain ourselves in his absence. The time passed very agreeably as far as I was concerned. You weren't too bored, I hope?'
She met his eyes and, against her will, she could feel the faint colour rising to her cheeks at the knowledge that she saw in them. 'I—oh, no,' she smiled brightly at her father, 'not bored at all.'
'You look a bit flushed.' Diego Lopez noted that at least. 'The sun's been quite warm today. I hope you didn't do too much.'
If only he knew exactly what they had been up to in his absence! Not that she intended to enlighten him. 'Perhaps we went a little too far. We won't do it again,' she said firmly. 'I'll see to that.'
The words were spoken to her father, but the message was aimed full and square at Leon. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the younger man's look of amusement. The game wasn't over for him, she could tell. He wouldn't be satisfied until her had her complete capitulation. She was a challenge to be overcome, and he couldn't resist challenges.
With any other man she would have been sure of the outcome of such a contest. Sure because she had dated quite a few men up till now and the end result had always been the same. However pleasant, however attractive they were, when they attempted to steer her towards bed, she rejected their approaches with ease and few regrets. After the disaster of her first love affair she had no intention at all of getting seriously involved again—and sex meant involvement as far as she was concerned.
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