Born Into Love (9 page)

Before she opened her eyes, he kissed her lids. “We are new to each other. How do you feel? Are you happy?”

She fought against tears. Always when she felt too full of emotion, they spoke for her. But tonight, she wouldn’t let that happen. “Yes.”

As though she might break, he handled her gently and shielded her from the cool air with a large fluffy towel. “Mercedes, I too, am happy.”

* * *

Diego
had spent hundreds of years taking, but tonight Mercedes’ happiness mattered more. Had that happened in the past? Never. And now that Mercedes held him in her gaze with affection and communicated it in her touch, his hope grew. At this moment the feeling was as fragile as an Andean blossom.

With her fingertips she traced the bones of
his face and kissed his eyes. Could she tell he had seen too much?

No.

His secret was too deeply hidden. He pretended to breathe the same air as she, his heart pretended to beat as hers, but he had succumbed to the most horrible of fates. Her hands traced his face and he inhaled her womanly scent wishing the solution to his existence were as simple as taking in and expelling the air around him.

His
limitations no longer mattered. He was a man with desires and a passion for her. Everything that did not smell or taste of Mercedes fell away.

They
rested in each other’s arms sharing the warmth of another blanket until subtle movements of her shoulders told him she needed to talk. “What is it?” Already he knew she would get directly into what was bothering her.

“I’m one of those women who
need to know where things stand.” She tossed her head and her damp curls bounced. “Men think that’s pressure.” She angled away in order to see his face full on. “Ready to hear the rest or do you want to flee into the house?”

“I will remain.”

“I need to know what’s happening between us.”

Direct. Honest. Qualities
he admired. “Are you asking if I love you?”

“Please, I’m not needy. I’m merely protecting my heart. What I want to know now is if you’re playing with me.”

“How much detail do you want?”

“I’d like to know where we stand.”

What could he say without scaring her? Could he tell her he wanted to be with her every minute? How could he answer when his heart wanted to rule his thoughts? This territory caught him off-guard, but not outflanked because what he felt for her was real. “Being near you excites me. Being with you as we have been, has made me lighter, happier.” He held her gaze. “You are someone I do not want to lose.” She rested her head on his chest where he allowed his heart to beat only for her. As she spoke her warm breath ran across his skin.

“In that case, I’d like another kiss.”

Chapter 5

The blood bank. How could he enter? The hunger, when it surfaced, cracked the shell of propriety Diego struggled to hold. At the building’s entrance, he backed off. Too tempting a venue and the day, too sunny. “Mercedes, if you do not mind, I will wait in the car.”

She brushed
his cheek with her lips. “That’s probably for the best. Why tempt fate? Hospitals scare a lot of people.”

He
simply nodded agreement.

Mercedes would sicken and the
connection between them disintegrate if she saw him feed. Still, he had to tell her. But not today.

The donation procedure proved brief.
He asked Mercedes not to describe it and she spared him the details although she did fiddle with the bandage over her vein. They arrived at the museum where he left her to finish photographing the pottery.

“More business uptown, but I will return. Then we will go home."

“Ms. Rogers still doesn’t know there’s no manifest other than the one I’m making. And you still have to examine the sealed pitcher.”

His
conversation with the curator took less than ten minutes. The call he made to Luz, was equally short. “There,” he said to Mercedes, “the fax is on its way, the pitcher not included, and the curator understands it will not be in the exhibit. Thank you for reminding me.”

When
they parted, she squeezed his hand in a sweet gesture and left to work on objects from his past, and he, to attend a meeting with a lawyer who understood how he preferred live.

The
office provided every comfort from thick Persian carpets in muted colors, to a mahogany desk and club chairs upholstered in black leather. The thick drapes obscured the skyline. Under these conditions, the lighted paintings seemed too bold for the rest of the room.

Alfred held a cut-glass decanter. “Drink?”

Diego shook his head. Although they had worked together for many years, Alfred did not know all the limitations attached to Diego’s existence. “How are my holdings?”

He returned to his desk and extracted a thick folder, the first of many
they would examine together.

“The mine in Colombia’s been sold, as you directed.”

“Good.”

“The money for the charities has been transferred anonymously as you required.”

Diego nodded.

“However, there’s something I must mention.” A note of concern limned his words. “Someone’s looking into your corporations. We are, of course, investigating.”

Had the same person tried to hack into his computer? “Do you have a name?”

“Not yet, but we will.”

After covering other details they shook hands and Diego left. His skin felt too thin for his bones. Inside the car, with the dark windows providing privacy, he fed from the supply Luz hid behind a small refrigerator. Restored, he drove to the Pascuas where he hoped his neighbor would greet him with a smile.

* * *

Concentrating on her work had made Mercedes thirsty. “Why isn’t there a vending machine in the hall?” As expected, no one answered, so she licked her lips and re-examined the pottery.
When she had the sealed pitcher in front of her, she frowned.

What could be inside? She ran her finger around the rim. The seal had not decayed meaning the contents might be viable.

Footsteps sounded in the adjacent lab. Unsure why, she took the precaution of hiding the pitcher in the cabinet. Just as she closed the door, Remy entered wheeling a huge leafy plant on a cart.

He waved his hand. “Wait. Don’t yell. At lunch Rogers remarked she’d stuck you in this room again. I labeled that grossly unfair. So here, this ought to cheer you.”

“She sent it?”

“Cross my heart.”

“You have one?”

He opened a bag that had been hidden among the leaves. “And I took the liberty of bringing an iced tea.” He placed it on the desk. “Only one. I’m not staying.” His gaze wandered over the table. “More unexceptional ceramics.”

“What did you expect, gold?”

His eyes glittered. “It’s what I live for.”

“Well, I don’t have any.”

“Looks like you won’t need any.”

She wouldn’t let the wormy comment pass. “Explain yourself.”

He settled the plant closer to the workspace. “I saw how you behaved with Castilla.”

Her heart jumped into her throat. Did he mean last night? She had to make sure. “What’re you talking about?”

“Castilla and you so cozy. Arriving, lunching,
and leaving together.” Remy looked at her chest long enough to be offensive then into her eyes. “You know how to play the game.”

Almost too late she realized his gaze had refocused from her to the unlocked cabinet.

“What’s in there?” he asked.

She extracted a can of pepper spray from her lab coat pocket. “I’m sure women have used this on you before. Leave. Now.”

“Don’t wet your panties.” He pointed a finger at her. “Castilla’s dirty. You’ll come off dirty too.” He grabbed the iced tea, took a deliberate mouthful and turned toward the door.

“Hey! You forgot the cart.”

“Call maintenance.”

Mercedes sat on a stool and played with the pepper spray container. “How’d that slime bucket get down here?” She took a deep breath, distracted herself by re-examining the pitcher. Finally, she locked the vessels away, removed her lab coat
and gloves and rode the elevator into daylight.

The curator’s secretary glanced up from a desk covered in documents. “May I help you?”

“I’m interning here. This is my second day. You gave me the key to the storage cabinet this morning.”

“Oh, of course, you’re. . .”

“Mercedes Thomas. I need to speak with Ms. Rogers.”

“Might not be a good idea. She’s following the staff around making sure the displays are perfect. And she’s freaking about additions to the collection.
We’ve got that big opening Saturday night.”

“Where can I find her?”

“Third floor. They’re all up there.”

Mercedes didn’t know what the curator’s reaction might be, but even a newbie intern shouldn’t have to put up with surprise visits from a snake. Her high school Spanish surfaced. “
Culebra
.”

The curator stood in front of a display case, nodding approval. Today her suit was gray with a navy pinstripe. Workmen on ladders adjusted lights and assistants wheeling carts filled with supplies chatted and referred to diagrams.

She waited until the curator looked in her direction.

“What do you need?” she asked.

Mercedes didn’t want to explain in front of an audience. She moved closer but a woman cut in front and reached for three Inca pins,
tupus
made from silver and used for fastening shawls. The woman flicked a friendly glance at Mercedes.

“Wish I had a fabulous Inca wrap to keep me warm.”

Mercedes nodded. “Let’s hope for one made from vicuna. It’d be great. Let’s go to Peru.”

“The cities sure, the jungle, no way.”

The curator had traveled halfway down the hall. Mercedes darted after her. “Ms. Rogers, excuse me, but I need to speak with you.”

“Okay. The exhibit doesn’t look it, but it’s on schedule. Let’s walk.
I haven’t been in my office all morning.”

Mercedes kept pace. “Remy Procteur delivered the plant. Thanks for thinking of me, but I’m not comfortable around him and I don’t want any more visits.”

Ms. Rogers stopped. “What’re you talking about?”

Mercedes explained.

“Never sent it, but I know where it came from.”

“Where?”

“The florist left forty minutes ago. We’re lining the gallery walls with plants for opening night. What do you bet one’s missing?”

Mercedes didn’t know if Remy and the curator shared a friendship. Regardless, she spoke her mind. “Why’s he allowed to run around the building?”

“I’ll cancel his card. It’s not the first time he’s done something like this. Problem is people know him. He’s delivered the goods on more than one occasion. My cancellation might not hold.”

Mercedes read something else in the woman’s eyes. “And?”

“Rumor has it he needs a mother lode fast. His last expedition came up dry. And, if the gossips have it right, he’s in debt to some nasty boys.”

“Is the guy with him a gangster?”

“That wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Doesn’t explain why Remy’s skulking around.”

“It’s obvious.”

“Not to me.”

“He needs a backer, somebody with a good name. Somebody rich.”

“Diego.”

“Probably thinks you’re his passport.”

“He doesn’t have a chance. And after this morning, he knows where I stand.” Mercedes showed her the pepper spray.

“Look, I’ll make certain he doesn’t get down there again, but be careful. He’s not a nice guy.”

“I have another problem.”

“Okay, but my office isn’t getting any closer.”

“Can I change my hours?”

“We’ve already been quite liberal. What kind of hours are we talking about?”

“
I could start at ten, eleven the latest.”

“How many days?”

“No more than two. I’ll work through lunch.”

“I’m assuming you have a valid reason.”

When Mercedes explained, the curator’s expression softened. “All right. I’ve got a similar situation. Monday we’ll address the schedule.”

“Thank you. What should I do about the plant?”

“I’ll speak with maintenance.”

Ms. Rogers left her in the hall and Mercedes set out for the café on the next corner. The receptionist found an outside table and a server took her order. After a couple of sips of cold soda, she relaxed against the back of the chair. In a few days her life had taken so many turns, good and bad.

She flipped her cell phone and dialed Dr. Mendez’s office. She asked if they’d found a nurse to stay with her sister.