My Love Betrayed Read online

  April Lynn Kihlstrom

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: I would like to thank Kay Kiff Whipple for her invaluable research assistance in preparing this book.

  Okay. So I was naive. But when I stepped off the plane in Mexico City, I really expected Rick to be there. Then I told myself he’d be waiting in the baggage area. Then I…Then I almost cried. The only reason I was here was because Rick had asked me to come.

  Calm down, I told myself, he’s probably at the hotel. Or maybe he was caught at some conference or something. He’d be here, if he could.

  Rick, like myself, was a computer programmer, and a darn good one. Which was why he was in Mexico in the first place. The corporation we worked for had sent him down to set up a computer system at one of their plants here. That had been in September. It was now December and Rick had asked me to take my two-week vacation and come down and visit him. My boss wasn’t thrilled, but he had worked with Rick and knew about us, so he let me go. I was glad to exchange the snow and wind of Chicago for the milder weather of Mexico City. Never mind how my parents felt about my missing Christmas with them. I was grown-up, wasn’t I?

  Suddenly I grinned, my sense of adventure getting the better of me. I was in Mexico City! Briskly, I pulled out the letter from Rick that told me what hotel I was staying at. Hotel Bamer, 2 Avenue Juarez. Relatively at ease now, I set about finding out how to get there.

  Eventually, I found myself in a sort of shared taxi -a van, actually that took people to hotels for about a dollar a person. Or was it two dollars? One of the first things I would have to do was get it clear in my head just how to convert from dollars to pesos. After about a ten-minute wait, my taxi was full and, laughing a little as the van bounced along the road, we set out for the center of town.

  Either the airport was absurdly far from the center of town, or our driver was ingenious in thinking up detours. We drove through sections with old, graceful houses, and sections with sidewalk stores. Everywhere, the houses were painted in pinks and yellows, greens and blues. And, in between, were adobe, red brick, concrete, and steel. Modern fountains contrasted with ancient churches until I felt as though a whimsical child had mixed up half a dozen cities into one. Everywhere there was bustle, despite Mexico’s reputation as a sleepy country. At each corner, our driver had to negotiate potential traffic jams and avoid darting pedestrians.

  An hour later, the taxi almost empty, we reached the Hotel Bamer. I was delighted to see that across the street was a lovely little park. Happy, in spite of my fatigue, I tipped the taxi driver and watched as the doorman carried in my bags.

  The lobby of the Hotel Bamer was probably quite elegant, but I didn’t even notice it. I was too busy hugging Rick, who had stood up as soon as I entered. After a moment, he let go and stood back to look at me.

  “Gorgeous, as ever!” he said, and I grinned foolishly.

  The man at the desk coughed discreetly and I started, remembering where I was. Rick winked at me and stepped back. Trying to look poised and self-confident, I filled out the information form. A moment later, the desk clerk handed the bellboy a key.

  In my room a few minutes later, I whirled around and hugged Rick again. He seemed a little ill at ease with my exuberance, but then he had always been rather reserved. At least, about demonstrating affection. Not when it came to talking.

  “How was your flight?” Rick asked, as he sat down in an armchair.

  “So-so,” I said, still standing. “I like flying, but after a while my head started to hurt.”

  “Change in air pressure, probably,” he said authoritatively.

  “And how have you been?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Busy.” He grinned. “I’m the only one who really understands these things here, and trying to train semi-illiterates is not my idea of fun. Especially since they’re all male and-”

  “Rick!”

  He grinned more broadly. “What, love? Are you objecting to my statement about males or about semi-illiterates?”

  I frowned. Rick was baiting me, of course. He knew all too well my feelings on the subject. “They can’t be semi-illiterate if they were hired to work in a computer division.”

  Rick smiled and shrugged. “Forget about work. Come here, love.”

  I sat down near him before he had a chance to pull me onto his lap. “Seriously,” I said, “how is it going here? Do you like it? Would you want to stay?”

  Rick ran a hand through his hair. “For Pete’s sake, Ellen, I don’t know. Sometimes, I love it here. I’m important, I’m doing what I like best, and I’m paid very well. But it gets to me, too, being in a strange country, with strange people and strange food.”

  “Isn’t there anything redeeming about the place?” I asked, amused.

  He grinned again. “Sure, the women!”

  “Rick!”

  Laughing, he said, “Well, of course, if you’d been here…”

  What could I say to that? I kissed him. After a few minutes, Rick asked, “How is everyone back in Chicago?”

  So I spent the next hour telling him, and it was almost as if we were back in Chicago, at his place or mine, discussing the week’s office gossip. All of the awkwardness or strangeness I had feared, after our four-month separation, was gone. And I was very glad I had come. In fact, we almost seemed closer than we had just before he left for Mexico in the fall. I studied his face at one point as he talked about a friend.

  Rick’s brown hair fell forward toward equally brown eyes. The chin and nose were firm and, taken altogether, I knew Rick was handsome. When he stood, he towered a full six inches over me, and Rick dressed to emphasize his lean, tall build. I knew I was the envy of every woman who worked in our section. But, sometimes, I wondered. Rick had hinted, more than once, that he wanted to marry me. But so far something had held me back.

  Rick’s voice jerked me back to the present. “…again, this evening.”

  “What?” I asked stupidly.

  He was patient. “I said, I have a conference this afternoon, but I’ll see you again this evening.”

  Rick looked uneasy. Well, he ought to. I had just arrived! Still, knowing these things happen, I tried to smile as I nodded. “I understand.”

  “Good girl!” he said. “See you then.”

  He kissed me and was gone. It was several moments before I realized Rick hadn’t told me what time to expect him. Maybe I could catch him before he left the hotel. I ran down the hall to the elevator and cursed its slowness as it descended. Then, stepping out, I looked around quickly for Rick. I saw him and hurried forward. And halted, as I saw him greet a lovely young woman. With a kiss. I stood there, staring. She looked about twenty, with long, lovely dark hair. It curled down and over the shoulders of her very expensive white coat. Laughing, Rick put one arm around those shoulders and, with the other, held open the door. Finally, I think I shut my gaping mouth.

  “I suggest you sit down.”

  The voice came from over my shoulder and I started. Before I could turn around, a hand clamped down on my arm and guided me to a chair. I looked up, about to retort angrily, but something in the expression on the man’s face stopped me. He sat down, also. “You don’t really want to make a scene, do you?” he asked rather contemptuously.

  “No, I don’t,” I replied, quietly but frostily.

  I sat waiting for him to excuse himself and leave me alone. But he didn’t. He looked me over slowly and, becoming angry, I stared back just as boldly. This man looked quite presentable-young, rather attractive, with a flattering, expensive suit and glasses that made him look as though he were accustomed to giving orders. But his breeding, I thought, was deplorable.

  As it became clear that he had no intention of leaving, I said what I had intended to keep to mysel
f. “May I ask what concern it is of yours whether I make a scene?”

  He shrugged, saying nothing.

  And I stood up and snapped, “Good day!”

  As I strode toward the elevator, he caught up with me. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  I turned to face him. “That is definitely none of your business. And if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll protest!”

  He merely raised his eyebrows. And stood there. I turned and strode to the desk. The clerk looked up, startled. “Excuse me,” I said evenly, “but this man persists in annoying me. Could you please call a house detective?”

  He looked at my follower and stammered, “But senor senorita-”

  The man at my elbow spoke then. “She is registered here?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Without a word, he turned and left. Flushing, I asked the clerk, “Who is he?”

  The clerk looked shocked by the whole affair. “Senor Whitford is an important guest.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, then said, “Thank you.”

  Slowly, I turned and walked to the elevator. My head spinning, I reached my room. But it wasn’t the refuge I had expected it to be. It was too full of Rick. Grabbing my coat, I decided to take a nice, long walk. I wasn’t sure which had upset me more: seeing Rick with that woman or the encounter with Senor Whitford.

  Outside, I felt better. As I’ve said, opposite my hotel was a park. It was full of trees and benches and people selling soda, ice cream, and what looked like tortillas and chips and large, crinkly pancakes. Eating two tortillas with cheese improved my mood greatly.

  Then I started walking. More by accident than by design, I soon found myself on the Paseo de la Reforma. It was a wide, tree-lined boulevard that made me think of Paris. There were even, I discovered, sidewalk cafes. For a while, I sat and watched the world go by. It seemed hard to remember I was in a foreign country as I watched couples touching hands, mothers pushing strollers, and children running after one another. Only the beggars reminded me of all the unseen differences between Mexico and home.

  I got back to the hotel at five. There was no message from Rick, so I assumed he hadn’t come back yet. I checked the bitter thought that came to mind. Instead, I told myself that maybe, just maybe, I had misinterpreted what I’d seen. I had to give Rick an opportunity to tell me himself. And I dressed with great care for that dinner date. By the time he came, at seven, to pick me up, I was quite satisfied with my appearance. My light reddish hair curled down over my shoulders. My cream pantsuit was cut in a very flattering style, and, with some gold earrings and a dab of Shalimar perfume, I was ready.

  As soon as I opened the door, Rick said, “You’re even more beautiful than you were this afternoon, love.” (What could I say?) “I’m sorry I’m so late, it was a rough afternoon.” (Oh? I let it pass.) “I thought we’d have dinner here, in the hotel. I hope that’s okay with you, Ellen.”

  “Sure, whatever you suggest,” I said.

  He glanced at me critically a moment, then said, “Ellen, don’t wear earrings tonight, okay?”

  “Why not?” I asked, annoyed.

  He didn’t answer. But I took them off with a smile. Then we went down to dinner. Or rather, up. To the top floor of the hotel. Windows ran almost from the floor to the ceiling and most of the tables looked out over the city. A small band was playing. I noted, with a little surprise, that I was the most informally dressed woman in the room. Rick seemed quite at home here.

  As we sat over coffee, after our delicious meal, I felt completely relaxed. Rick had been his usual charming self, and if, occasionally, doubts had nibbled at my mind, I’d dismissed them.

  “Ellen?” Rick asked softly.

  I looked up from my coffee and saw him smiling at me shyly. As I watched, he pulled a small, brightly wrapped package from his pocket. “It’s a few days early,” he said, “but I couldn’t wait.”

  Hesitantly, I opened the package. Inside was a pair of sapphire earrings. In amazement, I looked up. “Rick I I can’t accept this!”

  “Why not?” he demanded. “You know I can afford it, and I want you to have them. Ellen,” he said earnestly, “are you worried about propriety? You know those rules were made in different times. Times when men expected something for such gifts.”

  “And you don’t expect anything?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “No, I don’t!” Rick said angrily. “Ellen, you know how I feel about you. I’m only giving these to you a few months early.”

  I had no doubt what he meant. “And if I don’t marry you?” I asked. “You know I can’t promise I will.”

  He smiled wistfully. “I know that. And, believe me, I’m not asking you to decide now. No matter what, Ellen, I want you to have those earrings. Even if we just part friends, you’d have them to remember me by.”

  I bent my head, staring at the earrings to hide my confusion. In the end, I accepted them.

  Rick smiled. “Thank you, Ellen.” Then he urged, “Put them on.”

  I did, blushing.

  It was a little later, as we were leaving the dining room, that I decided to ask Rick about the woman. I was sure there was a simple answer and I might as well clear up the matter. As I opened my mouth, a diner pushed his chair back, into our path. It was Senor Whitford, regarding us cynically. “Good evening,” he said as he slowly stood up.

  He made no effort to move out of our way, and we had to wait until he replaced his chair and walked ahead of us, out of the dining room, before we could go on. I could sense Rick’s temper rising and I placed a hand gently on his arm. He smiled at me warmly and I could tell he was calmer. But I felt cold inside and, somehow, could not bring myself to ask about the afternoon.

  Rick escorted me to my room, and with a single kiss, said good night. “I know you must be tired after your long trip,” he explained. “I’ll call for you in the morning.”

  I smiled at his consideration. “Rick, thank you. For everything.”

  One more short kiss and he left. I sat down and spent the next half hour or so in some very pleasant daydreams.

  I woke late the next morning, reveling in the comfort of my room. It was large, with a comfortable bed, a desk, two armchairs, and several lamps, as well as a huge closet and dresser. The floor, of course, was thickly carpeted, and the curtains effectively shut out the morning light. I felt wonderful.

  The phone buzzed, just as I finished dressing, to tell me Rick was waiting downstairs and would meet me on the fifteenth floor for breakfast. I only felt a moment’s concern as I went to meet him. The sapphire earrings were safely in my purse and, after a night’s sleep, I knew I had misinterpreted what I had seen. Mexico was a very friendly country, so the guidebook in my room said, and even a business acquaintance might be greeted in that manner. Certainly, Rick’s eyes had not held the same warmth for her that now greeted me. “Ellen! How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Wonderful, Rick!” I said truthfully.

  “Good. I have some plans for today.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you after breakfast,” he laughed.

  The breakfast room was beautiful, with its hanging plants and crystal chandelier. Huge windows on two sides looked out over the city. Murals and a floor-to-ceiling mirror seemed to expand the room to twice its size. We had plenty of time to admire the decor. Even now, when I think of Mexico, I think first of the food, with its very leisurely dining pace.

  Finally, as we were finishing, I said impatiently, “Rick, will you please tell me what you have planned for today?”

  He grinned. “I thought we might visit Teotihuacan. The pyramids. Of course, if you don’t want to…”

  “Rick! I’d love it!” I cried, unable to resist the bait.

  “Good. It’s about a forty-five-minute drive. With my car, anyway,” he said, still smiling.

  “I never knew you were interested in things like pyramids,” I blurted out.

  Rick only shrugged. “You can’t come to Mexico Cit
y and not see the pyramids. Besides,” he teased, “there are lots of things about me you don’t know. If I’m not very fond of museums, it’s because I’d rather see the original archaeological or historical sites, instead. Most of the statues from the Acropolis in Athens are actually in the British Museum in London. But I’d rather see the barren temples on the hill any day.”

  “Yes, I can understand that.” I nodded. “Especially since you’ve had the chance to travel.”

  Rick just grinned. “C’mon, let’s go see our pyramids.”

  Knowing me well, he didn’t argue when I paid my check. We made a brief stop at my room to pick up my coat, though Rick thought I might not need it. Rick’s car was parked nearby, and we were soon on our way.

  Teotihuacan is north of the city and a modern highway goes right past the pyramids. The access road from the highway, however, is of cobblestones. Rick said it had been built in 1968 for the Olympics. He guessed maybe they had used cobblestones because it was “labor intensive.” Anyway, the access road was very bumpy.

  As we pulled into a parking space, Rick said, “First we’ll visit the sun and moon pyramids. There are also some souvenir stalls. You might see something you like.”

  “Okay,” I said happily, ready to agree with everything.

  We locked my coat in the car trunk, as well as Rick’s jacket. As Rick had predicted, it was a warm, sunny day. His arm around my waist, we slowly wandered past the stalls. Eventually, I settled on a silver bracelet, which I wore, and an onyx chess set, which I would buy on our way out. Then we climbed down the steps to the dusty road that ran from the moon pyramid past the sun pyramid. “The moon pyramid first,” Rick said authoritatively.

  There were a great many tourists. As Rick had said, one could not come to Mexico City without visiting Teotihuacan.

  I suppose I should have realized I needed to be careful, what with Mexico City’s high altitude. But I didn’t want Rick to think I was a flimsy, fainting female. So I said nothing, although, by the time we reached the moon pyramid, I was feeling a bit light-headed. Just breathe deeply, I told myself, and you’ll be fine.