My Love Betrayed (9 page)

As the heat from my coffee cup warmed my
hands, I tried to think about my situation. If I were honest, I had to admit I’d been eager to leave early
because I wanted to avoid Charles. Much as I tried
to ignore Mr. Iveson’s vague hints at lunch, they
touched that part of me that felt guilty over
deserting Rick now. Rick. It was easier to think
about him than about Charles. I felt hurt, but that
was mostly pride. How could I have been so naive?
And how could I be sure I wouldn’t be so naive
again? Wasn’t I being just as naive about Charles?

A voice at the back of my head told me, You
weren’t completely blind about Rick. Something
kept you from agreeing to marry him. Suddenly
Charles flew into my thoughts again.

Again I tried to avoid Charles by thinking about
my job. My position at the company could only be
enhanced by the work I was doing here. Under
normal circumstances, I would be fortunate to be
offered such a chance to prove myself so soon.
And I knew I was doing a good job. Charles

Yes, we were back to Charles. And, as I sat
there, nursing my now cold cup of coffee, I faced
the fact that I was falling in love with Charles. I
knew it was crazy. How can you fall in love with
someone you don’t know? I asked myself sternly.
But I had no answer for myself, except to hope that
by morning things would be clearer.

By morning, things did seem a bit clearer. I
realized that I had been leaning on Charles,
expecting him to sort out my difficulties for me.
Granted, I had been in shock and needed someone
to hold my hand, but now the time had come for
me to manage by myself again. I needed to know
that I could and, if I were ever to sort out my
feelings for Charles, I would have to put some
distance between us.

Accordingly, I skipped breakfast at the hotel,
took a taxi to work, very early, and found a cafe
nearby where I could get coffee and eggs with
beans. The eggs looked awful with the beans
mixed in, but tasted marvelous. Afterwards, I felt ready to face the men at work. With a wry smile, I
wondered what Charles would make of my
absence. Would he feel concern? Relief? Somehow, Charles did not seem the sort of man who
enjoyed baby-sitting semihysterical females, no
matter how fond of them he was.

I was the first one at the office and, by the time
Carlos arrived, I had found the bug we’d been
searching for the day before. That set the tone for
the whole day. We ran program after program
through the computer with great success, taking
turns to run out for lunch. By late afternoon, we
were feeling almost drunk with our achievement.

Carlos was even joking, saying, “It is a good
thing you are so much a woman. Otherwise I
would wonder if you were a man in disguise. After
all, everyone knows women are stupid. Enchanting but stupid!”

I laughed at his teasing and countered, “Actually, my theory is that men belong in the kitchen.
After all, everyone knows the greatest chefs are
men.”

“Yes, but-”

“And they look so well in pretty clothes.”

“Yes, but-”

“And they clearly have a knack for handling
children,” I continued.

“Yes, but-” Carlos began again.

“Miss Steffee, if you can spare a moment, may I
speak with you?” The voice was sarcastic, and I
knew, even before I turned to look, that Charles
would be frowning.

“Certainly, Mr. Whitford,” I said as calmly as I
could.

Carlos quirked an eyebrow and, impatiently, I
shook my head at him. Charles, I was certain, had
missed none of this. He waited as I picked up my
purse and joined him in the hallway. He obviously
had no intention of talking here and he set a fast
pace toward a stairway.

As we walked, his words came short and
clipped. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes!” I tossed back defiantly.

Charles paused, for a moment, startled. “Oh. I
gather the work is going well?”

The men and I had done a terrific job, and I
knew it. But this stem Charles seemed almost a
stranger and I could only say, “Yes.”

His office was one floor up and, when we
reached it, Charles held the door for me. The office
was small, and I sat down in the chair he indicated.
“They keep this for the visiting executives,” he
explained, as he took the only other chair. Then,
after a brief pause he asked, “Did you get back to
the hotel all right yesterday?”

I hesitated, not knowing how to explain the
need I had had to run away from him. I think
perhaps he misunderstood, because he asked
urgently, “Is something wrong, Ellen?”

I flushed. “No. It’s just that, well, I needed time
to think yesterday, so I went to the anthropological museum after work.”

This time Charles seemed to understand. His
voice became impersonal as he said, “I see. Tell
me, how is the work going? You and Carlos
seemed in a very good mood.”

“It’s beginning to fall into place. At least the
current stage is. Partly we were lucky. I’ve worked from Rick’s printouts before. But partly, Charles,
it’s as though Rick had all the pieces but couldn’t
put them together. In fact, we might have seen it
sooner, the guys and I, except that I never
expected Rick to make such careless errors. He did
things a freshman programmer wouldn’t even
pull!”

Charles nodded gravely. “I gather he had his
mind on other things. Actually, your news makes
it harder for me to tell you mine. Ellen, I suggested
to the head office that they transfer you down here
for the duration of this project. Today I got word
back. The answer is no. They expect to have
someone else down here in a week or ten days.
They would, however, like you to stay on until
then.”

“That’s not fair,” I said evenly.

“I know, but—”

“Carlos is a good man. Competent. Familiar
with the project. Familiar with the people. Why
hasn’t he been put in charge?” I demanded quietly.

Charles looked at me for a moment, then sighed
and picked up a pen. “All right. I’ll try again. What
are his credentials again?”

I told him again. Charles was impressed and
asked several questions. Finally he said in a
vaguely amused voice, “I’ll pass this information
on, Ellen, but don’t be surprised if nothing comes
of it.”

I nodded. I hadn’t expected promises. Nor
would I have been surprised if Charles had said
even less. Disappointed, but not surprised. As
Charles wrote a few more words, I studied his bent
head and felt my throat tighten. In any other circumstances, I would have known how to
respond to Charles. But if these had been other
circumstances, if Rick had not been arrested and
Charles had not been involved, I probably never
would have met him, I realized.

At that moment, Charles looked up and his eyes
met mine. He looked away first, choosing a spot
over my head to stare at. “Just one more thing,
Ellen. I saw Rick this morning. He’s going to be
difficult. About you.”

“Why, Charles? Why is he so bitter?” I asked
softly, not bothering to hide the pain.

Still he looked over my head. “I don’t know. But
it’s not just you. He’s bitter at the world and
everyone and everything in it. As though it owed
him something he’s never gotten.” Almost, I could
feel Charles touch my cheek, although he sat
several feet away, as he said, “Don’t let it hurt you
too deeply, Ellen.”

I tried to smile but couldn’t. Fumbling with my
purse, I stood. “Thank you for telling me, Charles.
I’d better get back to work now.”

I didn’t wait for an answer; I was unable to bear
any more sympathy. Instead, I fled back to my
office and the men who would be laughing.

Again, I left a few minutes early. We had
completed a sequence of runs, and several hours of
preparatory work would be necessary before we
could run any more programs through. And, yes,
to be honest, I couldn’t bear to see Charles again so
soon.

It was a warm afternoon and I decided to walk back to the hotel. At the most, it would take an
hour and perhaps help to clear my head. Was it
safe for me to walk that distance? Was I dressed
too conspicuously? I didn’t think so when I set out.
I wore a light rose pantsuit with a green scarf and
carried a leather shoulder bag. Hardly enticing,
hardly wealthy looking, I would have said. I was
sure no one would bother me.

But I was wrong. I seemed to have an unusually
large number of admirers. Not knowing Spanish
kept me from having to answer any of the
comments they made. Until, that is, I ran into a
few who knew English. I tried to be polite but firm
about my refusals and the men took it philosophically enough, usually with a shrug and a grin. So
by the time Pepe came along, I was almost
enjoying myself. After all, I’ve never considered
admiration an insult.

I was only a block from the park near the hotel
when he fell into step beside me. He was better
dressed than most of the men I had encountered.
“Buenos dias, senorita,” he said with an air that
was almost respectful.

“I don’t speak Spanish,” I said firmly.

“Oh, Americano. That is very good. I like
Americanos. I am Pepe. You are here on
vacation?”

I was not stupid enough to admit that I was
alone. “Yes,” I said, “with my husband.”

It was a lie, but an effective one. Usually. But
instead of backing away, Pepe took hold of my
elbow, drawing me toward a side street. “Oh? But
that is so unfortunate. I have not seen you with a man. And you are too lovely to be tied to just one.
You must let me take you to dinner. I know a
place-”

By now, he was almost dragging me, but I was
still not seriously alarmed. Impossible to think of
danger in the clear afternoon surrounded by
people. Surely, Pepe was merely overzealous.

“Let me go,” I said calmly, twisting my arm free.

“I am sorry, senorita, I cannot,” he said, as his
other hand clamped down on my arm.

Panicking now, I opened my mouth to yell. His
hand closed over it, jerking my head back, and, for
a moment, I couldn’t breathe. As I struggled,
someone else grabbed my waist. I bit down hard
on the hand over my mouth and tried to pull free.
Someone swore in Spanish. By now, we were well
down the deserted side street.

Still fighting, I glimpsed a car nearby. Hope
rose, immediately crushed by the voice hissing,
“So sorry, Senorita Steffee, you must come for a
ride with us. Someone wishes-”

A hand was clamped over my mouth again as I
started to scream. I couldn’t breathe and I felt
myself growing weaker. Suddenly, there was a
police whistle nearby. Hands released me as
footsteps pounded toward us. I teetered, then
leaned against the wall as the nearby car roared
away. Abruptly, I sat down. My ears rang and, for
a moment, I couldn’t see. As the haze cleared, I
realized someone was shouting, “Ellen! Ellen! Are
you all right?”

Silly man, couldn’t he see? I started to grin
foolishly and turned to look up at Charles. Abruptly, my head cleared. “What happened?” I
asked. “What are you doing here?”

“That is what I’d like to know!” The voice was
grimly angry. “What the hell is going on? Who
were those men? And why the blazes did you leave
the office early?”

Suddenly, everything seemed so absurd that I
started to laugh.

“Ellen!” Charles sounded almost frantic.

“Senor, she is in shock. Permit me. Senorita,
please try to stand. We will take you to your hotel,
yes? And you will tell us what occurred?”

I looked up. A policeman stood beside Charles.
Soberly, I nodded, then carefully got to my feet.
Both men helped.

“Your hotel, senorita?” the policeman asked.

“Gamer,” I said briefly.

Leaning slightly on both of them, I found myself
walking down the short stretch to the hotel. If I
had seemed odd to the staff before, it was nothing
to the picture I presented now. Mouths gaped.
Charles gave the elevator girl my floor number and
took my purse to look for my key. As soon as we
were safely inside, he called room service and
ordered brandy. Then the policeman made a
telephone call. Neither spoke to me.

With the brandy, the manager arrived. He
wasn’t at all pleased. He spoke in rapid Spanish to
the policeman, obviously demanding to know
what was going on. The poor fellow was trying to
answer when there was another knock at the door.
It was the policeman who had taken me to see
Rick. Apparently, he was in charge of the case.

“Come in,” I said bitterly, “and join the party.”

“Drink your brandy!” Charles said, sharply.

I drank. And watched. The inspector (or
whoever he was) spoke in rapid Spanish to the
policeman who had rescued me. The fellow
answered. Then Charles made a comment or two,
also in Spanish. Finally, they all turned to me.

“Senorita, can you please describe what occurred?” the inspector asked me.

I did. In a voice that trembled only slightly.
Already the incident had begun to seem unreal.
When I finished, the hotel manager looked as
though he wanted to say something to me,
changed his mind, spoke to Charles in Spanish,
then left.