Her Latin Lover (Contemporary Romance) (5 page)

“This is a bit embarrassing, but I’m having a few problems getting money. I was wondering if maybe I could work to help pay the bill. I could help you to upgrade this computer, or I could cook, or anything really.” Mary could feel the colour rising in her cheeks until they burnt hot and made her sweat even more than she was already. Señor Marcos really needed to think about investing in a serious air conditioning system, but she knew that now was not the time to suggest it.

“Work?” he stammered. His voice had gone up an octave to a high-pitched squeal. He was clearly offended by the idea. “No, no. No work. Don Paulo de Castile, he pay everything.”

“Has he paid for a bus ticket to La Puesta?” Mary asked.

“La Puesta is a very bad place. You stay here in Corazon. You are safe with Don Paulo.”

Mary thanked him, though she was not sure what for and went out into the town. Maybe someone else would be able to offer her work. She didn’t think that anyone would be looking for an English primary teacher, especially during the summer holidays, and she couldn’t speak Spanish, but maybe someone would offer her work as a cleaner, or something similar.

She tried the café on the square, the local bank, the small shop just off the square that sold strangely-shaped vegetables and a few local cantinas that definitely looked as if they could do with a cleaner. However, everywhere the answer was the same: “No Señora”. Everyone she asked reacted with the same shock and surprise that Señor Marcos had shown at the hotel. They also muttered things about Don Paulo de Castile, but she couldn’t work out what they were saying.

At midday, she gave up and went back to the café on the square, hot, tired and dripping in sweat. She ordered a coffee and the cheapest thing she could see on the menu. She didn’t know what she had ordered, but she hoped it wasn’t pigs’ ears again. She was relieved when the barman placed a small green salad in front of her. It wouldn’t be filling, but at least it was edible. However, when she went to pay the bill she was told that Don Paulo de Castile had already paid for it.

“How?” she asked. She looked around the bar. There was a table of men in the middle, directly under the ceiling fan. They all looked about a hundred and ten years old. There was no sign of Paulo anywhere.

“Don Paulo pay later. You take, he pay,” the barman explained in broken English.

Mary wondered if she should stay and order something more substantial, but decided that she shouldn’t try to take advantage of Paulo’s generosity. She still didn’t know what he wanted from her in return, although she could guess. An image of him standing in front of her with his shirt off ran through her thoughts. She could see his tanned, broad chest and strong, hard muscles in her mind. She recalled his face, with its strong jaw line and rich dark eyes. Then she remembered the scar under his left eye. It was not unattractive; in fact it gave him a rugged, almost wild look. She wondered how he got it. It was probably in a fight with some outlaw.

Mary took a deep breath, inhaled hot smoky air and chocked. She had to pull herself together. She had to stop fantasizing about Paulo. He was probably some evil drug baron or bandit and anyway, she was with Nick even if he was not actually physically with her at the moment. She looked around the hot, dusty square. The hotel was directly opposite her. To her right was the large, square courthouse and to the left was the main church. Mary had no reason to go into the courthouse; however, the church might be open. Mary was not religious, but maybe going into the church would help her to cool down and it was certainly a more attractive option than going back into the dingy hotel.

She climbed up the white marble steps that someone had swept and washed earlier that day. They were the cleanest thing that she’d seen since she arrived in the town. At the top, she pushed open an ornately carved wooden door and stepped in. She was shocked by what she saw. After days of seeing nothing but dust, dirt and grime, she was now confronted by dazzling white walls and at the far end, a huge picture of the Crucifixion painted in bright reds, blues, yellows and greens, but what really caught her eye was the giant gold cross hanging from the ceiling above the altar. She presumed that this was the cross she had heard about, the one made of Aztec gold. It was splendid and frightening at the same time.

She was so busy staring at it that she didn’t notice the man who walked up beside her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked her. He spoke with a slight American accent.

Mary turned around and looked at him. He had thick grey hair, a large flat nose and a broad face. She guessed that he was a Native American. It also seemed that he was a priest as he was wearing a long black robe and a white collar around his neck.

“Is it really made from Aztec gold?” she asked.

“Who knows Señora Delaney, I was not around when it was made.”

She wanted to laugh at his joke, but she was surprised by his use of her name.

“How do you know who I am?”

“You are Señora Mary Delaney,” he articulated the words slowly and clearly. “I know who you are because I am the local priest. People tell me things, sometimes in confidence, sometimes not. You are the friend of Don Paulo de Castile.” He smiled warmly at her.

She saw that his teeth were yellow and in some places a few of them were turning black, but he looked kind, like he wanted to help her. Maybe she should ask him about what was going on. Surely she could trust a priest, couldn’t she?

“Do you know what happened to my friend, Nick Kingsley?” she asked.

“Come and sit down.”

She half expected him to say, “My child,” like priests always did on TV, but he did not. Instead, he led her to a long wooden pew and motioned for her to sit down next to him. She took a seat and waited for him to answer her question.

“We could go into my office, if you would like to speak to me privately, but I think it is cooler in here and anyway the ladies here can’t understand English.” He pointed to a couple of older women who were arranging huge, exotic blooms in vases by a small side altar on the other side of the church.

He was right about it being cool in the church. She had finally stopped sweating. It was the most comfortable she had felt so far in Corazon. “Your English is very good,” Mary said in an attempt to make conversation. She had never really spoken to a priest before, except to shake hands and say hello at weddings and such like.

“I studied theology in America for several years, in California, but that was a long time ago and you were asking about your friend, Señor Kingsley?”

“Yes, of course.” Mary did not know that priests could go to places like California to study. It didn’t seem appropriate somehow; surely there would be too many distractions, like Hollywood for example. She’d never really thought about it, but she presumed that priests went to places like Rome to learn how to be priests, though maybe Rome was too far away. However, rather than ask him about it, she pressed on with the Nick issue.

“What happened to Nick? Why did he leave?”

“I understand that there was a card game in the bar the other night. Of course, I was not there myself. I go to bed at nine o’clock, as I get up early to say Mass at six. Many of the people in the town come to Mass first thing in the morning. It’s a said Mass and so it is quite short, just thirty minutes, but it is a good way to begin the working day, don’t you think?”

Mary nodded in agreement, but she couldn’t see herself getting up before six, though she’d been woken up more than once at that time during her stay in Corazon by the church bell ringing. Each time she heard it, she shoved a pillow over her head, rolled over and gone back to sleep.

“The card game was for money.” The priest said and shook his head in disapproval. “Gambling is a dangerous thing. Men can lose more than just their money: they lose friends, they lose their good name, they can even lose their loved ones, as I believe happened to Señor Kingsley. I have seen terrible things occur because of gambling.” He began a long story about how a farmer had started a fight with another man over a gambling debt. The fight had ended with the man shooting the farmer. He died two days later from the gun-shot wounds, leaving a wife and five children. The priest tried to take care of the widow and her children, but they went to La Puesta in search of work. The last time he heard about them, the children were begging on the streets and involved in gangs, while the mother, in desperation, had turned to prostitution. “Such a terrible thing,” the priest said, crossing himself. “I have gone to La Puesta several times looking for them, but it is such a big city and there are so many people. Maybe one day they will return to Corazon. At least you have Don Paulo de Castile to look after you.” His tone lightened.

“But who is he?” Mary asked, glad that the conversation seemed to be back on track again.

“He is a very good man. He will take care of you. However, he is not a rich man. He cannot afford to pay for an expensive hotel.”

Mary hadn’t thought about this. From the way he dressed and from the way that everyone kept on saying that Don Paulo would pay for everything, she assumed that he was wealthy. “What should I do? Is there a cheaper hotel? I could change rooms,” she suggested. Nick had booked them into the hotel’s best room. She dreaded to think what the economy ones were like.

“May I suggest something?” The priest placed his hand gently on her arm. “The hotel of Señor Marcos is not very, how can I say this?” The priest looked around the church as if searching for some kind of divine wisdom. After a long pause, he said, “It is not very comfortable, whereas Don Paulo has a very comfortable home. Why don’t you stay there, as his guest, until it is time for you to leave Corazon? There is plenty of room in his house and it would be more pleasant for you.”

Mary looked surprised. This was an option that she hadn’t considered. She would certainly appreciate the opportunity to get away from the creepy Señor Marcos, despite his more civil attitude this morning. Plus, the idea of being in closer proximity to Paulo was not unappealing. “Are you sure it would be ok?”

“Yes. It would be good for both of you.” He gave her arm a slight squeeze.

Mary was confused. It almost sounded as if the priest was trying to pair her up with Paulo.

“Don’t worry. You can trust Don Paulo. He is a gentleman, even if he does gamble, though I believe he does so for only a very tiny bit, just a few pesos here and there, no more than the cost of a small meal. Though we pray and strive for perfection, God bestows sainthood upon only a few and the rest of us are guilty of a multitude of sins. Even the saints had their own vices. I am not a saint and I will admit to you that I have several vices; the principal one is watching American football on Saturday afternoons. It is a habit that I picked up in California and one which I find very difficult to break, even after all these years.”

Mary didn’t think that watching soccer was much of a sin. She could think of a million worse things that the priest could do and a lot worse habits that he could have picked up in the USA, but she did not confront him about it. Instead she went back to what he said about Paulo’s gambling.

“When Paulo was gambling the other night,”

“Don Paulo de Castile,” the priest corrected her.

“When he was playing cards, it was more than just a little bit of gambling. Nick lost $1500 and more.” Mary did not say what the “and more” was, but she was thinking of the fact that Nick had gambled her away, if that really was possible.

“As I said, I was not there, but I understand that it was El Leon who raised the stakes.” At the mention of El Leon, the priest scowled. “El Leon is a terrible man. You were very lucky that Don Paulo de Castile was there and won the game instead of him. I dread to think what might have happened if things had been otherwise. You must thank God that the evening turned out the way it did.”

“What? Thank him for Nick running off and taking everything with him?”

“Señor Kingsley was wise to leave when he did. I hear that El Leon was very angry when he lost the card game and when El Leon is angry, he can do awful things. He is a man who has forgotten God.” The priest crossed himself. “The safest place for your friend is where he is now, out of the country and back in England, and you are safe here with Don Paulo de Castile. Take my advice and go and stay at his house.” He gave her arm a final squeeze before letting go and standing up. “Now, if you will excuse me. There are things that I must attend to.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Francis Caxinaua, but everyone calls my Padre, or Father.”

“Thank you Padre.”

Mary shook his hand and then walked out of the church wondering how she could contact Paulo and what would happen if she moved into his house.

Chapter 5

Don Paulo stood at the reception desk paying Señor Marcos for Mary’s room. He was not sure how much longer he could afford to keep her at the hotel and Señor Marcos refused to give him any kind of a discount. He heard the main hotel door swing open and looked up to see Mary strolling in, wearing a tight black T shirt that showed just how tiny her waist was. Don Paulo thought that he could probably span most of it with his two large hands.

“Good morning Señora. Please excuse my behaviour last night. It was most unkind of me to walk out as I did.” To his relief, she gave him a huge smile. He could see the tiny gap in her front teeth that made her look so sexy. He took the smile as a positive sign and ventured further. “Maybe you would consent to having a coffee with me?”

“I’d love to. Or perhaps lunch? I seem to remember you saying that there was a good restaurant in a nearby village. Maybe we could go there?”

“But of course.” He picked up his jacket which was lying across a chair and led her out of the hotel. Señor Marcos gave him a wink as they left.

Women were so unpredictable. When he left her last night she was angry with him, but now she was practically all over him, chatting away as if they were old friends. Maybe she felt guilty for getting cross when he explained that he had saved her from the clutches of El Leon. However, he didn’t ask her and was just thankful that she was in a better mood than he expected.