But Leon was different; she acknowledged that now. One touch from him and her body melted. She had laughed when Sandy talked about the power of physical attraction. 'I couldn't help myself—he was driving me wild.' How often had her friend said that to excuse what was, in Nita's eyes, a casual fling with no genuine depth of feeling. 'What you need is will power,' she had replied then, feeling that Sandy succumbed a little too easily. Now she knew that will power had a way of disappearing when one needed it most. It was no defence at all against Leon Calveto.
Nita braced herself for their next meeting. She would be cool and casual then. She would act as if nothing had happened between them—nothing of any importance, at any rate. But the encounter was some time in coming. Leon had taken off on a sudden business trip, her father told her, and he wasn't sure how long he would be away.
Good riddance, thought Nita, and told herself she could use a respite from his company. As her father's health began to permit a degree of socialising, she accompanied him on his visits to the houses of friends. She was new on the social scene and attractive with it, and the young males of her acquaintance were soon queuing up for her favours.
'Like bees round a honeypot,' Diego Lopez said proudly. 'I always knew I had a beautiful daughter.'
And he wasn't the only man to tell her that. The compliments and invitations flooded in on all sides. She could have been out every night of the week if she had wanted to be. The Nita of three years ago might have been in danger of having her head turned by the attention, but the Nita of today had grown up a little in that respect. She merely laughed and took none of it seriously. Flattery bored her. If truth were told, she preferred Leon's more astringent approach.
She enjoyed herself. Now that her initial anxiety about her father was being replaced by cautious optimism, she could afford to devote a little time to pleasure. The ceaseless social round would bore her if she knew she had to endure it for ever, but in small doses she found it quite fun. She talked girl-talk with the females of her acquaintance and flirted mildly with the males.
Not one of them put her on her mettle the way Leon did, charging every moment spent in his company with a sort of electricity. Not one of them brought a tingling sensation to her skin when he touched her. And she was glad of it, she told herself. One freak reaction like that was quite enough to try to handle. One night at a party she caught sight of Mercedes Cardenas in the distance. She looked elegant, but down in the mouth—missing Leon, Nita supposed. She would never advertise her feelings for a man as obviously as that.
But she was conscious of a sudden feeling of elation that she found difficult to hide when Leon materialised at her side without warning at a gathering she was attending to celebrate the engagement of an old school friend, the daughter of a successful lawyer.
She had looked for him when she and her father had arrived, a quick, semi-automatic scan of the faces present. Forewarned was forearmed, she told herself, explaining away the action. He must have arrived late and that was how she had missed him. Now her heart missed a beat as she looked at him, lean and dark and dangerous in formal evening dress, the cream of his tuxedo emphasising the deep tan of his face.
Nita was suddenly glad she was looking her best tonight in a salmon-coloured jersey dress whose silky folds clung to every curve of her body.
'So you're back at last,' she said, and could have kicked herself for sounding pleased to see him.
'Have you missed me?' A dark brow rose in enquiry.
'There's hardly been time for that. I've been too busy enjoying myself.' She laughed convincingly. 'You're not the only man in the world, you know, however much it may suit you to behave as if you are.'
He glanced carelessly across the room at a group of young men who were viewing his monopoly of Nita with some gloom. Leon's reputation with women evidently made his own sex treat him with some respect. At any rate, no one was daring enough to come over and interrupt the conversation.
'Is that the competition?' he asked. There was a derisive note in his voice. 'Poor Nita!'
'I told you—I've been enjoying myself.'
And she had. Until he came along and made her realise the difference that lay between the callow approaches of the youths who had partnered her so far this evening and the cool confidence with which he treated her. Leon was a man, not a boy, and the distinction showed in every line of him.
He smiled as if genuinely amused. 'I hope you haven't lost your heart to one of them,' he said.
'And if I have?'
'You'd be making a mistake.'
Not as great as if she lost her heart to him. 'Why?'
'He won't marry you.'
'No?' Nita asked. 'You seem very sure of that.'
'Oh, I am,' he told her softly. 'There are girls a man marries and there are girls he plays around with. And, with your past history, you come very firmly into the second category.' His glance raked over her face, assessing it coolly. 'Although I'm willing to concede that you might give a few ambitious mothers a sleepless night or two, worrying that they might have to welcome a night-club singer into the family.'
He was right, damn him! In the stuffy, ultra-respectable circles in which her father moved, Nita was accepted and welcomed everywhere. Diego Lopez was rich and powerful and greatly respected in the community. But, as a future daughter-in-law, she had a definite question mark over her suitability in the minds of the matrons she had met.
No one had actually said anything to her, but the knowledge was there; she had seen it in their eyes. Every one of them wanted her son to marry a nice girl. Nice girls didn't have a past. They didn't run away from home with a man and then surface three years later without him, still unmarried and apparently fancy-free. Nice girls worked in boutiques or offices or stayed at home until they married. They didn't perform in front of live audiences to earn a living. Nice girls led safe, boring existences.
Nita shrugged carelessly, passing off his remarks as if they meant little to her. 'Perhaps I'm not looking for a husband,' she said. 'Perhaps I'll never marry.'
'No?' he queried. 'That would be a waste.'
'Do you think that I'd make some man an admirable wife, then?'
'With a little effort, yes.'
'On whose part?' she asked. 'Mine, I suppose?'
'Oh, there'd be give and take on both sides, I imagine.'
'You think so?'
She looked over to where the young couple they were feting that evening stood receiving the congratulations of their guests. Her friend Elena looked radiant enough, her hand proudly possessive as it rested on the arm of her new fiancé. Carlos was a good-looking boy and he came from a good family. He was just twenty-two and going places in the family business.
A very suitable match—the sort of marriage that her father had in mind for her three years ago. Whether it was still what he wanted for her she didn't know. He hadn't confided that much to her yet. Love and marriage were two subjects that they had steered well clear of in their conversations so far, each of them anxious to avoid opening old wounds.
Nita gave a small sigh.
'Do you envy her?' Leon asked abruptly. 'Would you like to be in her shoes right now?'
'I don't know,' she told him honestly. 'Do you think he'll make her happy?'
'Maybe. Who knows? Marriage is a gamble.'
'Is that why you've made a point of avoiding it?'
His expression was unreadable. 'I've been biding my time,' he said.
'Playing the field, you mean.'
'There's no law against that as far as I know,' he mocked her. 'I've been waiting for the right girl to come along.'
'And have you found her yet?'
'I narrowed it down to a short list of candidates recently.'
'A practical solution to the problem, if ever I heard one,' she said tartly.
'I'm a practical man,' Leon shrugged.
'Let's hope that, when you've made your final selection, she doesn't turn you down.'
'Oh, I don't think she
'll do that.'
Neither did Nita. No one would let a man like him slip through her fingers when he was offering marriage—no one in her right mind, that was. He would be the catch of the season, she was sure.
'I hope you'll invite me to the wedding,' she said. 'I'd like to see the superwoman who takes you on.'
'You think it would take a saint to put up with me?'
'Don't you?' she countered.
There was a sudden wicked light in his eyes as he glanced down at her. 'Virtuous women bore me. I was thinking more along the lines of a fellow sinner.'
Nita wondered who on earth he had in mind. Surely not Mercedes? But before she could pursue the subject further, the lights dimmed and the band that had been assembling at the far end of the room burst into the opening bars of a popular tune and Elena and Carlos took to the floor amidst loud applause to start the dancing.
'I think that safely kills off conversation for a while,' Leon said, and she couldn't tell whether he was glad or sorry. 'Dance with me, Nita.'
It was a command, not a request, but for once it didn't occur to her to oppose him. Instead she let him sweep her on to the floor with the other couples. They danced apart and then, as the catchy beat of the first couple of numbers was succeeded by a slower rhythm, he pulled her into his arms and held her closer to him.
She was tense at first, holding herself rigidly in check as she moved against him, scared of what might happen if she let herself go.
'Loosen up,' he murmured in her ear, pulling her still closer. 'You're as stiff as a board!'
She was being foolish—after all, he couldn't make love to her on the dance floor. She abandoned herself to the music, the fluid movements of her body matching themselves exactly to his, and then discovered her mistake as she felt the now familiar response that only his physical presence seemed to stir in her.
It was what she wanted, if she was honest enough to admit it to herself. It was what she had been wanting all week while Leon had been away from her. As she abandoned herself to the sensual pleasure of him moving against her she knew it was madness, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered except the tide of feeling that carried her along. Dimly, in the background, she was aware of the music, responding automatically to the beat. But other things overshadowed it: the burning touch of his hand through the flimsy material of her dress; the strong, steady beat of his heart against her breast; the slight roughness of his cheek as it brushed against hers.
Leon didn't release her when the music stopped briefly and there was a general change of partners all around them. Nita stood in the circle of his arms, incapable of movement, while Leon looked down at her with faint amusement. He knew exactly what effect he was having on her and he was relishing it, she thought, trying to rearrange her dazed features into a semblance of normality.
'Having fun?' A high, bright voice behind them broke the spell.
It was Mercedes, soignée and sexy at the same time in a low-cut dress of swirling green chiffon, her hair elaborately pinned and coiled. There was a smile on her face, but it didn't reach her eyes. They were as cold and as hard as jet. Nita felt ridiculously guilty, almost as if she had been caught committing a crime of some kind. No doubt that was how the other girl saw it.
'I thought you were still in Cuernavaca. You didn't tell me you'd be here tonight.'
Her tone held an accusing note, one that her partner, a pleasant enough young man, clearly registered, He looked uncomfortable and shuffled his feet, evidently recognising the fact that he was very much an also-ran as an escort when it came to competition with Leon Calveto.
'If I'd been in need of your services, no doubt I would have got in touch.'
The ice in Leon's tone made it quite clear how he felt about being taken to task in public, and Nita felt almost sorry for the other girl as she saw the dull tide of colour that stained her cheeks. And then the music started again and Leon pulled her away from the other couple with a brief nod of acknowledgment to Mercedes' partner, leaving him to pick up the pieces as best he could. Nita didn't envy him the task.
'You weren't very nice to Mercedes,' she ventured.
'I don't like possessive women.' He eased her towards him again, moving in time to the music.
'But surely Mercedes—'
'Forget Mercedes,' he said. 'She's not important.'
'No?'
'No.' His lips nibbled her ear, distracting her attention.
And it didn't seem worth arguing about any more.
CHAPTER SIX
'I'll be out tonight, Papa, if that's all right with you.'
'Off gadding again?' Diego Lopez put aside some papers that he was studying in the sala and looked up as his daughter entered the room some days later.
'Would you rather I stayed in and kept you company?' Nita glanced anxiously at him. 'Are you feeling O.K.?' The doctor had confirmed that he was well on the road to recovery, but he still had his off days when he was obliged to take things easily, and Nita didn't like to be away from the apartment at such times in case he needed her.
'Stop fussing—I'm fine. And only too glad to see you getting out and enjoying yourself instead of being stuck indoors running round after me.'
'I thought that was what womenfolk were for? Don't tell me you've changed your tune at last?' she teased him. 'Anyway, I like being with you. It's no great hardship spending a bit of time with you, you know.'
She wasn't lying to him. She did enjoy the hours they spent together. Diego Lopez was more relaxed these days, more mellow and much easier to talk to. They were alike in many ways, she and her father, and they were discovering common interests and enthusiasms all the time.
She had no doubt at all that she had done the right thing in coming home. She missed the free and easy life in Miami. She missed her friends there, particularly Sandy. More than anything, she missed her singing. She still didn't know when, if ever, she would be able to pick up the threads of her career again; it was too early to think about that possibility just yet.
But it was worth any amount of sacrifice to feel that at last she was achieving some kind of real relationship with the father she had never properly known or understood. And, for his part, Diego Lopez seemed equally grateful to have been given a second chance, an opportunity to heal the rift between them for all time.
'Who's the lucky man this time?' he asked her now.
'Leon. He has some friends in town that he's taking to the Sound and Light show out at Teotihuacán. I thought it was a bit of a tourist trap and I always avoided seeing it, but he says it's quite a spectacle and he thought I might like to go along with them.'
'Leon, huh?' Diego Lopez' glance was shrewd. 'You've been seeing quite a lot of him lately.'
'Do you mind?' Nita was aware of the defensive note in her voice.
He gave her a wry look. 'Aren't you going to tell me you're old enough to choose your own escorts now?'
'Old enough to realise that I can make mistakes about people as easily as the next person.' Nita pulled a face. 'I've been wrong in the past and you've been right. I'm doing you the courtesy of consulting you this time.'
'So, if I tell you to drop him, because I think he's no good for you, you'll obey me instantly.' There was a twinkle in her father's eye.
'He won't see me for dust,' she promised, laughing. 'I'm a dutiful daughter now.'
'When it suits you.' But there was only affection in Diego's voice. 'Go and enjoy yourself. You won't come to any harm with Leon.'
How little he knew! Since the evening of Elena's engagement party she had been fighting a desperate battle with herself. She wasn't going to give in to Leon, but slowly, inevitably, he was eroding her defences. And making no secret of his intentions. Tongues had wagged after Elena's party when he had danced every dance with Nita, and he had left at the same time as herself and her father as if the evening held no joys for him if he was to be deprived of her presence.
At least one of the young men who had professed interest in her had openly express
ed the hope that he wasn't poaching on another man's preserves.
'I wouldn't want to offend Seňor Calveto,' he told her earnestly. 'If he's taking an interest in you—that is—I—' He grew scarlet and flustered in an attempt to explain. 'I mean—'
'I know exactly what you mean,' Nita said coldly. The king of the jungle had staked his claim and lesser lights were terrified of standing between him and his prey. 'When I want to stop seeing you, I'll tell you. You needn't look to Seňor Calveto for advice.'
'Yes—no.' He had been overcome with embarrassment at his lack of tact and she had felt sorry for him in the end. But he hadn't invited her out again.
'I don't belong to you, you know,' she told Leon sharply one evening when he arrived at a charity cocktail party that she was attending on her father's behalf and the youth that she was talking to made a discreet but obvious withdrawal only moments after Leon reached her side.
'Not yet, no,' he agreed.
'Nor ever will do.'
His eyes narrowed as he glanced down at her. 'If you're so sure of that, what's the problem?'
'You're scaring everyone else away.'
He looked amused. 'It's not deliberate, I assure you.'
No, he didn't have to say or do anything to make his interest in her obvious; it was just tacitly understood. Nita thought back to a story book that she had had as a little girl. Full of animal pictures, it had offered observations on the natures of the beasts it showed. She remembered the lion, tossing its splendid mane. And underneath the sentence had read, 'Monkeys hunt in packs; lions walk alone.'
And that was what Leon was doing. Slowly, determinedly stalking his quarry, waiting for the right moment to spring and secure it for himself.
'Stop playing with me, Leon,' she said crossly. 'I'm not interested.'
'Aren't you?' he mocked her. 'If you really want to be rid of me, you only have to say no and mean it. I'm not that insensitive, I hope.'
Lions Walk Alone Page 9