My Love Betrayed

April Lynn Kihlstrom

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I would like to thank Kay Kiff
Whipple for her invaluable research assistance in
preparing this book.

Okay. So I was naive. But when I stepped off the
plane in Mexico City, I really expected Rick to be
there. Then I told myself he’d be waiting in the
baggage area. Then I…Then I almost cried. The
only reason I was here was because Rick had asked
me to come.

Calm down, I told myself, he’s probably at the
hotel. Or maybe he was caught at some conference
or something. He’d be here, if he could.

Rick, like myself, was a computer programmer,
and a darn good one. Which was why he was in
Mexico in the first place. The corporation we
worked for had sent him down to set up a
computer system at one of their plants here. That had been in September. It was now December and
Rick had asked me to take my two-week vacation
and come down and visit him. My boss wasn’t
thrilled, but he had worked with Rick and knew
about us, so he let me go. I was glad to exchange
the snow and wind of Chicago for the milder
weather of Mexico City. Never mind how my
parents felt about my missing Christmas with
them. I was grown-up, wasn’t I?

Suddenly I grinned, my sense of adventure
getting the better of me. I was in Mexico City!
Briskly, I pulled out the letter from Rick that told
me what hotel I was staying at. Hotel Bamer, 2
Avenue Juarez. Relatively at ease now, I set about
finding out how to get there.

Eventually, I found myself in a sort of shared
taxi -a van, actually that took people to hotels
for about a dollar a person. Or was it two dollars?
One of the first things I would have to do was get it
clear in my head just how to convert from dollars
to pesos. After about a ten-minute wait, my taxi
was full and, laughing a little as the van bounced
along the road, we set out for the center of town.

Either the airport was absurdly far from the
center of town, or our driver was ingenious in
thinking up detours. We drove through sections
with old, graceful houses, and sections with
sidewalk stores. Everywhere, the houses were
painted in pinks and yellows, greens and blues.
And, in between, were adobe, red brick, concrete,
and steel. Modern fountains contrasted with
ancient churches until I felt as though a whimsical
child had mixed up half a dozen cities into one.
Everywhere there was bustle, despite Mexico’s reputation as a sleepy country. At each corner, our
driver had to negotiate potential traffic jams and
avoid darting pedestrians.

An hour later, the taxi almost empty, we
reached the Hotel Bamer. I was delighted to see
that across the street was a lovely little park.
Happy, in spite of my fatigue, I tipped the taxi
driver and watched as the doorman carried in my
bags.

The lobby of the Hotel Bamer was probably
quite elegant, but I didn’t even notice it. I was too
busy hugging Rick, who had stood up as soon as I
entered. After a moment, he let go and stood back
to look at me.

“Gorgeous, as ever!” he said, and I grinned
foolishly.

The man at the desk coughed discreetly and I
started, remembering where I was. Rick winked at
me and stepped back. Trying to look poised and
self-confident, I filled out the information form. A
moment later, the desk clerk handed the bellboy a
key.