in her eyes faintly embarrassed him. She was gazing at him with a mixture of blind trust and hopeful expectation.
“Do you know the hotel? I mean, have you been here before?” she faltered, trying not to pry.
“Several times,” he confessed. “I come down here once or twice a year when I need to get away.” He glanced around. “Let’s go.”
He got down her suitcase and helped her extricate the spare bag from the case with a wry glance at the neat cotton nightgowns and underwear. She blushed wildly at that careless scrutiny, and he turned his attention to her books, packing them neatly and deftly.
She followed him out of the plane with gratitude shining on her face. She could have kissed him for not making fun of her, for helping her out. Imagine, she thought, a man like that actually doing something for her!
“I’m sorry to have been so much trouble,” she blurted out, almost running to keep up with him as they headed toward customs and immigration. She was searching desperately for her passport, and missed the indulgent smile that softened his hard features momentarily.
“No trouble at all,” he replied. “Got your passport?”
She sighed, holding it up. “Thank God I did something right,” she moaned. “I’ve never even used it before.”
“First time out of the States?” he asked pleasantly as they waited in line.
“First time out, yes,” she confessed. “I just turned twenty-six. I thought I’d better do something adventurous fast, before I ran out of time.”
He frowned. “My God, twenty-six isn’t old,” he said.
“No,” she agreed. “But it isn’t terribly young, either.” She didn’t look at him. Her eyes were quiet and sad, and she was thinking back to all the long years of loneliness.
“Is there a man?” he asked without quite knowing why.
She laughed with a cynicism that actually surprised him, and the wide eyes that looked up into his seemed ancient. “I have no illusions at all about myself,” she said, and moved ahead with her huge purse.
He stared at her straight back with mingled emotions, confusing emotions. Why should it matter to him that she was alone? He shook his head and glanced around him to break the spell. It was none of his business.
Minutes later she was through customs. She almost waited for her tall companion, but she thought that one way or another, she’d caused him enough trouble. The tour company had provided transfers from the airport to the hotel, but a cab seemed much more inviting and less crowded. She managed to hail one, and with her bag of books and suitcase, bustled herself into it.
“Hotel Mirador,” she said.
The cab driver smiled broadly and gunned the engine as he pulled out into the crowded street. Dani, full of new experiences and delightful sensations, tried to look everywhere at once. The Bay of Campeche was blue and delightful, and there were glimpses of palms and sand and many hotels. Veracruz was founded in the early 1500s and looked as many old cities of that period did, its architecture alternating between the days of piracy and the space age. Dani would have loved to dive straight into some sight-seeing, but she was already uncomfortable in the formidable heat, and she knew it would be foolish to rush out without letting her body acclimate itself to its new environment.
As she gazed at the rows of hotels, the driver pulled into one of them, a two-story white building with graceful arches and a profusion of blooming flowers. It had only been a few minutes’ ride from the airport, but the fare was confusing. And a little intimidating. Twenty dollars, just for several miles. But perhaps it was the custom, she thought, and paid him uncomplainingly.
He grinned broadly again, tipped his hat, and left her at the reservation desk.
She gave the clerk her name and waited with bated breath until her reservation was found. Finally, she had a room. Everything would be all right.
The room was nice. It overlooked the city, unfortunately, not the beautiful bay. But she hadn’t expected much for the wonderfully low rates that had come with the package tour. She took off her sweater, amazed that it had felt so comfortable back in the States where it was early spring. It was much too heavy here, where the temperature was blazing hot even with the air-conditioning turned up. She stared out the window at the city. Mexico. It was like a dream come true. She’d scrimped and saved for two years to afford this trip. Even so, she’d had to come during the off-season, which was her busiest time back home. She’d left her friend Harriett Gaynor watching the bookstore in her absence. Go, Harriett had coaxed. Live a little.
She looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced. Live a little, ha! What a pity she hadn’t looked like that gorgeous stewardess on the plane. Perhaps then the blond giant would have given her a second glance, or something besides the reluctant pity she’d read in his dark eyes.
She turned away from her reflection and began to unpack her suitcase. There was no use kidding herself that he’d helped her for any reason other than expediency. He could hardly walk right over her precious books. With a sigh she drew out her blouses and hung them up.
By late afternoon Dani felt up to some exploring, and she wandered the ancient streets with the excitement of a child. She’d changed into blue jeans and a loose, light sweatshirt and thongs, looking as much like a tourist as the other strangers in port. Her body was still adjusting to the heat, but the sweatshirt was simply a necessity. She couldn’t bear to wear form-fitting T-shirts in public. They called too much attention to her ample bustline.
She found the stalls along the waterfront particularly fascinating, and paused long enough to buy herself a sterling silver cross with inlaid mother-of-pearl. Her pidgin Spanish seemed adequate, because most of the vendors spoke a little English. Everywhere there were colorful things to see—beautiful serapes in vivid rainbow shades, ponchos, hats, straw bags and animals and sea shells. And the architecture of the old buildings near the docks fascinated her. She stared out over the bay and daydreamed about the days of pirate ships and adventure, and suddenly a picture of the big blond man flashed into her mind. Yes, he would have made a good pirate. What was it that Dutch had called pirates—freebooters? She could even picture him with a cutlass. She smiled at her own fantasy and moved on down the pier to watch some men unloading a big freighter. She’d never been around ships very much. Greenville was an inland city, far from the ocean. Mountains and rolling, unspoiled countryside were much more familiar to Dani than ships were. But she liked watching them. Lost in her daydreams, she didn’t realize just how long she’d been standing there, staring. Or that her interest might seem more than casual.
One of the men on the dock began watching her, and with a feeling of uneasiness she moved back into the crowd of tourists. She didn’t want trouble, and a woman alone could get into a sticky situation.
Dusk was settling over the sleepy city of Veracruz, and the man was still watching her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him moving toward her. Oh, Lord, she thought miserably, now what do I do? She didn’t see a policeman anywhere, and most of the remaining tourists were older people who wouldn’t want to be dragged into someone else’s problems. Dani groaned inwardly as she clutched her bag and started walking quickly toward the hotel. The crowd dispersed still farther. Now she was alone and still the footsteps sounded behind her. Her heart began to race.
