Spring Bride Page 6

  “Did you think the cabbie would take you into Caracas out of the goodness of his heart?”

  “No, not exactly, but…”

  Antonio’s hands tightened on the wheel. She was typical of her class, he thought furiously. She knew nothing of the real world. As far as she was concerned, life was all sweet privilege.

  “It was stupid, refusing to tell me you had no money,” he said sharply.

  Kyra swung toward him, her eyes flashing. “You know, you might want to consider that there might be extenuating circumstances before you call someone stupid. It’s not always a good idea to try jamming your opinion down someone’s throat!”

  “Had you told me the truth,” he said coolly, “I would have paid for your taxi.”

  “That was the last thing I wanted.”

  A disdainful smile curled over his mouth.

  “I see,” he said. “You would rather take your chances with the night than ask me for help, is that right?”

  “I just didn’t see that my problem was any of your concern.”

  “An admirable attitude,” he said, his voice sharp with sarcasm. “Yet it seems to have become my concern nonetheless.”

  She bit her lip and suffered the rebuke in silence. He was right—and unless she could think of something, she was going to have to eat an even larger dose of humble pie.

  “I assume you reported the theft to the police?”

  “No. And don’t bother launching into another lecture, okay? There just wasn’t time. I had to choose between finding a police station and trying to make it to my ship before it sailed, and—”

  “Your ship?”

  Kyra slid down a bit in the seat. The cat was out of the bag now.

  “Yes,” she muttered. “The Empress of the Caribbean. I was on a cruise, and this was one of the stops. And—”

  “You said you were staying with friends.”

  “I didn’t say that at all,” she said smugly. ”You said it. I just didn’t correct you.”

  “I cannot believe this! One, you have no money. Two, you have no papers. Three—”

  “Three, you’re managing to make this sound likelike some kind of international incident! Look, it was a screwup, that’s all. I’m sure I’m not the first passenger ever to get to the dock late. I just never dreamed the ship would sail without me. I mean, honestly, you would think the captain would—”

  “I know precisely what you would think.” Antonio’s voice was chill. “That the captain would delay the sailing, that he would inconvenience everyone else for your comfort.”

  “No! I simply meant—”

  “What were you doing, that you lost track of time?”

  “I was shopping. And for your information—”

  “Shopping.” His lip curled. “Of course. The sport of the rich.”

  A gust of laughter burst from Kyra’s lips. The sport of the rich? Was that what she’d been indulging in when she’d bought the T-shirts with the funny sayings and the straw bag shaped like a donkey?

  “I am pleased that I am such a source of amusement to you,” Antonio said grimly.

  “It isn’t that. It’s just that you’re wrong about what I was doing. The shopping, I mean. I was—”

  She broke off in midsentence. What was she doing, explaining herself to this man? He wasn’t just a dictator, he was a hypocrite! The sport of the rich indeed. What about him, with his fancy car and his custom-made clothes?

  “Well? I am waiting to hear your explanation.”

  Kyra smiled thinly. “You’ll have a long wait, then. Yes, I was shopping, and yes, it was fun. And you’re right, I did, indeed, expect the captain to wait for me. Have I left anything out?”

  “Yes.” His voice was hard and cold. “You have left out where it is you wish to get out of my car. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but we have reached Caracas.”

  “You’re right,” she said icily. “I hadn’t noticed. I was too busy thinking how much I dislike you, Señor del Rey, and what a great pleasure it will be to get out of this car!”

  “For the last time, woman, where shall I let you off?”

  Kyra glared out the window. The streets were crowded with pedestrians, there were bright street lamps everywhere, but best of all, there was a big hotel just ahead.

  “Here,” she snapped.

  Antonio swerved toward the curb, ignoring the sudden blare of horns from the cars he’d cut off.

  “My pleasure,” he said.

  The car had barely rolled to a stop when Kyra flung the door open. She undid her belt, flung off his jacket, and tossed it into his lap.

  “Goodbye, Señor del Rey,” she said as she stepped out of the car. “Thank you for a memorable day.”

  “The same to you, Miss Landon.”

  The door slammed shut. The gears shrieked in protest as Antonio jammed through them and swung out into traffic.

  What an impossible woman! Such insolence. Such icy coldness. Such a certainty that the world was hers…

  And such legs. Was it really necessary to have sat like that, with her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle? Her perfume had annoyed him, too. Why hadn’t the rain drowned its soft, haunting fragrance? And her hair. If she had only bothered to keep the comb Consuelo had lent her, she might not have had to let it dry that way, tousled around her face so that he could only think that this must be the way she would look rising from his bed after a long, sweet night in his arms.

  Thank the gods, he had seen the last of her.

  Antonio stepped down hard on the gas pedal and drove off.

  Half a dozen blocks away, he stood on his brakes, setting off another barrage of horn blasts as he swung to the curb again.

  Did Kyra Landon have a functional brain in her head?

  For that matter, did he?

  Antonio pounded the heel of his hand against the steering wheel.

  No money. No credit cards. How would she pay for a hotel room? Without a passport or visa, how would she prove she had not entered the country illegally? This wasn’t the United States, dammit; things were not always so simple here.

  Hell, he thought, what did it matter? She disliked him, he disliked her. And, as she had said, the problem was hers, not his. She could try explaining herself to the hotel manager, perhaps even to the police.

  The police, he thought, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. If they got involved, she might very well end up spending the night in jail. She might even spend the weekend there, unless she could convince someone to phone the American Embassy. Even if she did, who knew what the embassy could, or would, do?

  Well, so what? A couple of nights behind bars might do a woman like that some good. He had spent a night in jail once, years ago when he and half a dozen other losers had been yanked out of a waterfront bar in some backwater town; he could still remember how quickly eight hours on a stained mattress in a roach-infested cell had changed his mind about laughing at the law…

  “Dammit,” Antonio said fiercely.

  He jammed the car into gear, shot out from the curb, and did a kamikaze U-turn straight across the lanes of oncoming traffic.

  * * *

  His timing couldn’t have been better. She was coming out the main entrance of the hotel just as he reached the corner. Her head was up, her shoulders were back, but something in her pallor told him that things had not gone well.

  The doorman gave her a sharp look as she marched past. Her pace quickened. Suddenly, a man came hurrying out the door. He said something to the doorman, who frowned and took a step after Kyra.

  ”Señorita,” he shouted.

  She didn’t look back.

  Antonio cursed under his breath, reached across to the passenger door and flung it open. Then he pounded his fist against the horn.

  “Kyra!” he yelled.

  She hesitated and looked toward the road. He shouted her name again and saw her face light up and her lips mouth his name.

  “Get in,” he barked as she raced to the car. Once
she had, he revved the engine and they flew away from the curb.

  “Oh, Antonio,” she said breathlessly, “you came along just in time!”

  He looked over at her. Her eyes were shining with excitement. He wanted to do something, but what? Grab her and shake her until her teeth rattled? Kiss her until her mouth opened to his?

  “Are they following us?” she said, peering over her shoulder. She gave a little laugh as she swung toward him again. “You should have seen what happened in there, Antonio. It was like a spy movie. I asked for a room, and—”

  “What in hell is the matter with you?” he snarled. “Do you think this is all a game?”

  “Of course not. I’m just trying to tell you what—”

  “Did you think they would show you to a suite and tell you that you could pay for it in the next millennium?”

  Her smile was quickly fading. “Stop yelling at me! And stop looking as if—as if I need a keeper!”

  “That is precisely what you do need,” Antonio said furiously.

  Kyra glared back at him. Moments ago, when she’d seen his car and heard his voice calling her, her heart had lifted with joy. What had been a terrifying experience had suddenly become an adventure once she knew Antonio was there to protect her…

  To protect her? She didn’t want that! What on earth had made her think something so stupid? Come to think of it, what had made her think she was happy to see Antonio del Rey again?

  “All right,” she said coldly, “you’ve had your fun.”

  “Fun? Is that what this is? I thought it was aiding and abetting a criminal.”

  Kyra flushed. “I am not a criminal,” she said stiffly.

  “You ran away from the manager of the hotel.”

  “Did you expect me to wait while he called the police?”

  “Why not?” Antonio said, his eyes on the road. “You could have reported the theft of your things.”

  “Yes, but—but I had the feeling the police might not have believed me any more than the manager did.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth. That I’d been a passenger on a ship, that a thief snatched my pocketbook—”

  “What he saw,” Antonio said coldly, “is a woman who looks as if she’d slept in her clothes.”

  Kyra flushed. Her hand went to her hair in a defensive gesture.

  “I know I’m a mess, but…”

  She wasn’t a mess. She was disheveled-looking, yes, but she was still beautiful. More beautiful than the first time he’d seen her. She looked like a real woman now, not some designer’s mannequin.

  Antonio frowned. What did he care how she looked? His problem now was what to do with her.

  “Anyway,” she said, her tone frigid, “you didn’t have to aid and abet me, if you think I’m lying.”

  He sighed. “I never said you were lying. What I said was—”

  “I know what you said. Do me a favor and don’t go through that again.” She looked at him. “Why’d you come back anyway?”

  “Because it occurred to me that precisely what did happen might happen.”

  She hesitated. “I suppose I should thank you…”

  “I have seen you in action, Kyra. I would not willingly inflict you on anyone, even the police.”

  It was a moment for a clever response, but suddenly she was fresh out. She was tired, she was hungry, and she was feeling more and more desperate.

  “Let’s make a deal,” she said wearily. “I won’t snipe at you if you won’t snipe at me, okay?”

  Antonio started to respond, then thought better of it. She must be exhausted, he decided, and with a shrug, he gave in.

  “All right,” he said, “I agree.”

  They drove in silence for a few minutes and then she sighed.

  “I should go to the embassy…” To her horror, she heard a sudden tremor in her voice. She cleared her throat and started over. “I have to do something.”

  Antonio lifted his eyebrows. “Are you asking my advice?”

  She hesitated. “I’m open to ideas,” she admitted.

  And, just that readily, it came to him. It probably would have sooner if the woman hadn’t gotten him so angry.

  He could solve her problem with just a couple of phone calls. He knew at least half a dozen officials, American and Venezuelan, who would be happy to win his favor. He smiled, thinking of how they’d fall all over themselves in their eagerness to please him by helping someone he vouched for. He could make things right in no time.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  Antonio looked at her. “I’ve thought of a way to help you.”

  “Have you really?” She smiled, too. “Tell me.”

  He shook his head. “First, we’ll have dinner. And then I will explain.”

  “Dinner! But—”

  He pulled to the curb and shut off the ignition. “Dinner first,” he said sternly.

  Actually, he thought as he stepped from the car, there was no reason not to tell her about his plan now but there were a few last details to think through; he wanted to be certain there were no kinks before he explained it.

  “Antonio, I don’t want dinner first! I want to know—”

  Kyra gritted her teeth. He wasn’t listening, not that that was anything new He’d already shut his door and now he was opening hers.

  “Come,” he said in that imperious tone she’d come to hate.

  “Dammit, Antonio—”

  “Is it impossible for you to do as you’re told?” He could feel his good mood fading as she went on sitting there, glaring at him. Finally he muttered something, bent down, undid her seat belt, and drew her on to the sidewalk.

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

  “To a restaurant,” he said as he clasped her elbow and hustled her along beside him. “It is late, and I am tired and hungry. I want a meal and some wine, and then we will talk.”

  “You might have asked what I wanted!”

  Antonio swung toward her. “Very well,” he said curtly. “I am asking you now. Do you wish to join me for dinner, or would you prefer to sit in the car and sulk?”

  She glared at him. Was he trying to make her feel like a fool?

  “Make up your mind quickly, quenda. I told you, I am hungry.”

  “Don’t call me that! I don’t like it.”

  “And I don’t like women who argue about everything.” His hand closed on her arm again and he all but dragged her into the recesses of what was obviously an expensive restaurant.

  A fawning headwaiter led them to a booth. Kyra’s temper smoldered like a lit fuse. She flounced into her seat, opened her menu, and buried her nose in it.

  The audacity of the man! Did he go through life bullying everyone, or was it women who brought out the dictator in him?

  “…prefer, Kyra?”

  She looked up from the menu. “Pardon me?” she said, her tone frigid.

  “I asked if you preferred a Burgundy or a Pinot Noir.”

  “How nice that you should condescend to ask.” She snapped the menu shut and put it down. “I don’t want wine at all.”

  Antonio decided to ignore the display of temper. She had to be as hungry and as out of sorts as he was, which would make her all the happier to hear his plan.

  He closed his menu, too, and looked at the waiter. “We will have red, Carlos, a Chateauneuf-Du-Pape, the same as I had last time, sí? And steaks. And—”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I don’t want wine. And I don’t want steak. I’d rather have—”

  “It is the specialty here, Kyra.” He smiled. “The only question is, do you wish your steak rare or well-done?”

  Color swept into her cheeks. The waiter was taking in every bit of this routine with a faint but contemptuous smile. Were all men members of the same universal club?

  Kyra leaned forward. “Listen here, Antonio. For the last time, I don’t want—”

  “Rare, then, Carlos. And baked potatoes and green salads, sí?”
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  Antonio sat back as the waiter hurried off. “You will feel better after you have eaten, Kyra, and then I shall offer you the solution to your problem.”

  How she despised his handsome face! He would come up with a solution to her problem? Well, why not? He had dragged her in here, he had ordered her meal…hell, he was taking over her life! Well, she’d put a stop to that!

  “Carlos,” she called.

  The waiter was halfway across the room, but Kyra’s voice carried. He turned—actually, half the diners nearby turned, but she was beyond caring—and came scurrying back. He paused beside the table and looked at Antonio.

  ”Señor? Is there a problem?”

  “The señor didn’t call you,” Kyra said coldly. “I did. And yes, there is a problem. I don’t like being ignored.”

  Antonio’s eyes narrowed. He watched in silence as Kyra ordered Carlos to bring her broiled fish, sliced tomatoes, and a glass of iced tea. Her tone was sharp and imperious.

  It was an unpleasant performance for him to watch and for the hapless waiter to endure, but it was illuminating. This, after all, was the real Kyra Landon.

  Antonio’s mouth thinned. He remembered what he had thought this afternoon, that she needed a man to bring her to heel. He recalled what he had thought only a little while ago, that a night in the purgatory of a jail might do the same thing.

  Perhaps he had been right on both counts, he thought coldly. And in that instant, with a dark thrill of anticipation, he knew exactly what offer he would make her.

  The waiter shot Antonio a questioning glance when Kyra finally fell silent. Antonio nodded.

  “That’s all right, Carlos,” he said quietly. “Do as the señorita says.”

  Kyra’s heart was thudding. She’d never behaved so badly in her life, but it had been worth it just to see the look on Antonio’s face.

  “I have changed my mind,” he said. “I have decided to tell you my plan now, instead of waiting until we finish eating.”

  Kyra smiled. Her show of independence had had the desired effect after all.