The Sooner the Better
Page 16

Something else troubled him. She was beginning to look good. Too good.
The sound of a gentle splash startled him. He opened his eyes and sat upright. Lorraine had taken the plunge, literally, and was swimming around in her bra and panties like a porpoise, enjoying the water. She dove under, giving him an excellent view of her nicely rounded derriere. Her legs weren’t bad, either. Shapely and trim. That led him to consider other parts of her body he had no business thinking about.
“She’s married,” he muttered loudly enough to give himself a wake-up call. A fling with Lorraine was a fling with disaster, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. No way was he that big a fool.
Getting too involved with any woman was a mistake, as he’d already learned, but getting involved with someone else’s wife… He shook his head. At least Marcie hadn’t been married when he’d fallen in love with her.
“Having a good time?” Jack stood and leaned against the gunwale, watching her frolic in the water.
Lorraine jerked around, her hair a froth of shampoo. She treaded water and looked up at him, blinking rapidly when the shampoo dripped into her right eye. “I thought…you were asleep. I didn’t think you’d mind if I used your shampoo.”
“Not in the least.” He crossed his ankles and assumed a more comfortable stance.
“Since you were asleep and…and since we’re anchored in freshwater here, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to wash my hair.”
“Excellent idea.” He covered his mouth and yawned. Still, he didn’t move away, not when he could see how uncomfortable she was with him staring at her. After all, he deserved some reward for all the trouble she’d caused. Embarrassing her was an entertaining activity. He wasn’t going to complain about the view, either.
“You’re a brave woman,” he said.
“Brave?” She rubbed her eye, which had to be smarting by now.
“Maybe fearless is a better description.”
“Fearless? If you’re talking about what happened this afternoon—”
“I’m not.” He shouldn’t do this to her, but what the heck. “I’m talking about swimming in piranha-infested waters.”
A look of sheer terror came over Lorraine. He’d never seen anyone move so fast!
Jack couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing.
Thomas paced the small area outside the bedroom. Each time Azucena moaned, he had to stop himself from bursting through the bedroom door. She’d been in labor for twenty hours now, far longer than with either Antonio or Hector. According to the midwife, this baby was breech and the labor had proved to be far more intense. The birth would be complicated.
Exhausted himself, Thomas could only imagine how Azucena felt. He loved her and was grateful to her for giving him back his life. For years he’d gone listlessly from one insignificant job to the next, convinced that eventually something would happen to change his circumstances. For years he’d believed that, somehow, Ginny and Raine would join him in Mexico. In his dream-world, he’d believed that it was only a matter of time before all would be forgiven and the charges against him dropped. Then he’d moved to El Mirador, been offered not just a job, but one he loved, one that meant something. He’d met Azucena then, too, and his life had been blessed from that day forward.
He’d loved Ginny, grieved at the news of her death, but Azucena was his future. He’d married her the day before, as soon as he could arrange it. She was his wife, the mother of his sons. The thought that he might lose her now overwhelmed him.
Fear seized his lungs and he could hardly breathe. Death was said to come in threes. His legs grew so unsteady they could barely support him. He sat and buried his face in his hands.
First Ginny. Then Ernesto’s body had been found at the hotel, his throat slit. The investigation had left Thomas deeply shaken. The more he learned about Jason Applebee, the more outraged he became. To a large extent, Thomas blamed himself for Ernesto’s death, since he was the one who’d asked the hotel proprietor to keep an eye on the American.
First Ginny, then Ernesto, and he prayed to God the third death wouldn’t be Azucena.
“Papa.” Antonio climbed onto his lap and wrapped his small arms tightly around Thomas’s neck. Thomas understood his son’s need to hold on for all he was worth. In a way he was doing the same thing. He was worried sick about Azucena, and Raine was never far from his mind, either.
He trusted Jack to see his daughter safely out of the country, but there could be unforeseen problems ahead. Jason Applebee was no novice when it came to using and abusing others. He was probably furious at having lost the stolen artifact, and furious, he’d be even more dangerous. News had come by way of the radio that the half of the Kukulcan Star discovered in Raine’s suitcase had been returned to the museum in Mexico City. If Jason—
Azucena’s scream shattered the silence and the blood drained from Thomas’s face. In that moment he would have sold his soul for a doctor and a decent medical facility.
“Mama?” Antonio clung even harder to his father.
Thomas slid both arms around the boy and closed his eyes in silent prayer.
When she screamed again, Thomas put Antonio gently down and jumped to his feet. He threw open the bedroom door. The midwife, standing at the foot of the bed, glanced disapprovingly over her shoulder.
“Not now. Leave us. This is no place for you.”
“Is she all right?” he pleaded.
“Thomas?”
Azucena sounded so weak. “Should I get the priest?” he asked. Dear God, he thought again, I can’t lose her. “Tell me! For the love of God, tell me what to do.”
Panic set in, and he didn’t wait for an answer but raced from the house, certain he was about to lose both his wife and unborn child. He didn’t stop running until he reached the church. He dashed through the front doors to find the parish priest kneeling at the altar in prayer.
“Father, Father,” Thomas gasped, sprinting down the center aisle.
Father Garcia was well over seventy and incapable of moving quickly. Now that he had the priest’s attention, Thomas wasn’t sure what to tell him.
“What is it?” Father Garcia asked anxiously.
“Azucena,” he said between deep breaths. “The baby’s breech.” He covered his face with both hands, terrified of the future without her, and slumped to his knees at the altar.
The priest accompanied him back to the house. When Thomas opened the front door, the first thing he heard was an infant’s wail. The overpowering relief that followed brought tears to his eyes.
“Azucena,” he sobbed. “Azucena.” Uncaring what the midwife thought, he rushed into the bedroom to find the older woman attending to the infant. Azucena lifted her head from the pillow.
“We have a third son,” she whispered.
Thomas grabbed her hand and kissed it. Father Garcia walked slowly into the room, and seeing mother and child alive, he crossed himself and looked toward heaven.
“My love,” Azucena murmured so quietly he could barely hear. She wiped the tears from his face and pressed her palm to his face.
Thomas turned to look at the midwife. “Is she…will she be all right?”
The woman nodded. “You have a fine healthy son.”
“Thank God,” Thomas said, fighting back the emotion. “Thank God.”
Eight
Jack threw back his head and howled with laughter at the sight of Lorraine thrashing through the water in her eagerness to reach the boat. His amusement increased as she sputtered at him, her head full of shampoo with bubbles dripping onto her face.
The last laugh, however, was all hers.
Madder than a mean-tempered wasp, she agilely heaved herself out of the water and into the boat. Her wet underwear left precious little to the imagination. Jack’s humor quickly faded, and his throat went dry. He’d been too long without a woman, he decided, if Lorraine was affecting him like this.
With a wedding band on her finger, she was strictly off-limits. He wasn’t interested in an affair, however brief. His love life had been robust for a number of years, with only one hard-and-fast rule.
No married women.
Ever.
Jack was a good-looking guy and he knew it. Girls had started flocking to him from the time he was in junior high. There’d never been a shortage of single women, and frankly, he wasn’t interested in creating unnecessary enemies. Like husbands. In addition, this was the daughter of a friend. A good friend, who trusted him to get her safely back to the United States.
One look at Lorraine’s full breasts and the shapely curve of her hips glistening in the light from the setting sun, and the hard-and-fast rule was becoming merely a guideline. He couldn’t make himself turn away. Damn, she was beautiful. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed earlier. Anyone could see that, prissy attitude aside, she was gorgeous. But Jack had forced himself not to respond…until now. He’d done a convincing job of pretending he wasn’t aware of her, hiding the attraction behind a barrage of insults. The questions about her love life had been an ill-advised attempt to remind himself that she was off-limits.
Then it hit him. Hard. He wanted her. Without any trouble whatsoever, he could envision her in his arms…and his bed. It was so easy to imagine her smiling up at him….
A cold sweat broke out on his brow. He rubbed his eyes to dispel the image of Lorraine in his bed while he struggled to breathe evenly. He instructed himself to remember the nameless woman in Belize and Catherina Efrain, a woman he’d had a brief fling with a year or two earlier. He’d met her when she was on vacation in Campeche and was later surprised to learn she worked for the Mexican government. Thinking about Catherina helped—but not enough.
Being stuck with Lorraine in the close confines of the boat wasn’t going to make things any more tolerable. Jack had to forcefully—and repeatedly—remind himself of something that, until now, had been instinctive.
Lorraine was hands-off.
Squinting and muttering, she swept her shampoo-coated hair away from her face and glared in his direction. The effect was somewhat undermined by the rapid blinking of one eye. “There aren’t any piranhas here, are there?” she demanded.
She stretched out her arm, groping for a towel. Apparently she’d brought it from belowdecks before she entered the water.
“How’d you guess?” he returned, his voice rough. Whatever wit he’d once possessed had vanished while he struggled to disguise the effect she’d had on him.
“Oh-h-h,” she groaned, stumbling blindly around.
He couldn’t figure out what she was doing. It took all his self-control not to stare openmouthed while she paraded half-nude in front of him. He finally realized she was searching for a bucket. Now that she’d found one, she leaned over the gunwale, presenting him with yet another blood-stirring view….
Jack slammed his eyes shut while she lowered the bucket over the side, then opened them just in time to watch her pour the water directly over her head. Lather and suds cascaded down her body.
“I hope you’re happy,” she shrieked. She reached for the towel, burying her face in it.