Dave came up behind her. Through a break in the foliage that enclosed the balcony he saw the Sierra Madres towering in the distance. A rattan sofa with a padded vinyl-covered cushion afforded a nice place to sit to enjoy the view.

"Pretty slick how you talked that guy into giving us the room."

"I just played the Catholic card."

"He did it because he liked you."

She turned and gave him a crafty smile. "I have a way with men."

He sure as h.e.l.l couldn't argue with that. Lisa had some obvious physical attributes a man would have to be in a coma to miss, and Manuel had been fully conscious.

"Problem," Lisa said.

"What's that?"

"I need a shower, but I haven't got anything clean to put on. My suitcase went down with the plane, and everything in my backpack has been through the Mercado River. Can you help me out?"

Dave reached into his bag, pulled out a shirt, and handed it to her.

"Don't suppose you have a pair of women's panties in there, do you?" she said.

"Nope. I had to pack light. Left the recreational stuff at home."

"I'll be stuck with my dirty jeans when we leave here, but for now I can just wear this."

Lisa disappeared into the bathroom. He sprawled out on the sofa with a weary sigh. He'd left Dallas only yesterday, but it seemed as if he'd been gone a month.

The white noise of the shower running lulled him until he almost fell asleep. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Lisa came out. He sat up. Stared. Even when she'd been a mess before, she'd commanded his attention, but now he'd be lucky to pry his eyes away with a crowbar.

Her cheeks were flushed pink from the hot shower, giving her face a warm glow. She wore the sleeves of his pale blue shirt rolled to her elbows. The tail of the shirt hit mid-thigh along her bare legs. Even with several bruises marring them . . . good G.o.d. What a sight.

She tossed her dirty clothes onto the floor of the closet, and when she stood again her back was to the patio door. With the evening sun filtering in behind her, the cotton fabric of his shirt suddenly seemed gauzy and translucent, revealing every hill, valley, and curve of her body beneath it. Her short, still-wet hair was a tangle of dark reddish gold that reflected her personality far more than a sleeker style could ever have. She combed both her hands through it, and the movement made the shirt rise up on her thighs, inching closer to revealing a part of her he had no business thinking about, much less looking at.

She's got nothing on under that shirt.

As those words pounded at his brain, which currently was minus most of the blood that kept it in working order, she ducked into the bathroom again, returning with a sample-sized lotion that must have been provided by the management. She sat down on the bed, pulled up one leg, and placed the sole of her foot on the bed, the tail of the shirt barely covering the private parts he was having such a hard time keeping his mind off of. She opened the lotion and sniffed it, making a face of disgust.

"d.a.m.n. Floral. I hate hate floral stuff." floral stuff."

With a sigh of resignation, she poured some of it into her hand. Starting at her ankle, she smoothed it up to her knee, then back down again, moving slowly and thoroughly, avoiding a healing cut on the outside of her calf that was pink-edged from the heat of the shower. Then she tucked that leg and pulled up her other one, giving it the same treatment. There was nothing deliberately sensuous about it, but suddenly it was as if every atom in the room had become electrified and all of the energy was coming straight from Lisa.

He grabbed clean clothes from his bag and headed for the bathroom. It was nearing seven o'clock. They were both exhausted, which meant an early bedtime. In the same bed. Together.

What had he been thinking? He should have insisted on finding a hotel with a room for each of them, no matter how tired they were.

He was going to take a shower. A long one. And maybe by the time he got out she'd be under the covers. On the other side of the bed. Asleep.

Half-naked.

Make that a long, cold cold shower. shower.

chapter nine.

Lisa pulled back the covers and climbed into the king-size bed. The hot shower had lulled her senses, making a pleasant feeling of relaxation flow through her. She laid her head on the pillow and pulled the covers over her, blinking wearily.

In just a few minutes, Dave would be joining her. That she was in the same room with him after all this time was astonishing enough. That she was sleeping in the same bed with him was beyond belief.

That he'd come to Mexico to help her was unfathomable.

Downstairs in the Lozano household, music started to play, an upbeat Latino number that tapped softly, rhythmically, through Lisa's mind, soothing her to sleep. But when the bathroom door opened and Dave came out, she opened her eyes again. And what a sight she saw.

He wore nothing but a pair of jeans. He had a towel draped over his shoulders, but it did little to hide the part of his body that was currently naked. Strong, sculpted shoulders, a broad, powerful chest, and a rock-solid set of abs all merged together to take her breath away.

Dave pulled the towel from around his neck and tossed it aside, then went to the desk and picked up the phone. "I need to call my brother."

Lisa nodded sleepily. Dave went a few rounds with whoever was acting as hotel operator in the Lozano household, then dialed several numbers. He sat down in the chair to wait for the call to go through. He stared out the patio doors, and she stared at him. A lot had happened to him in eleven years. He'd grown up, become a cop, had a child.

Lost a wife.

Lisa had been shocked to read the newspaper account of Carla's death, a dramatic accident on an icy bridge that had left Dave alone with a nine-month-old daughter to raise. As jealous as she'd been of Carla, she never would have wished that kind of misfortune on either of them. It was the kind of tragedy that could age a man fast, making him cynical and hard-edged, giving him the kind of att.i.tude about life that would fuel any resentment he felt at having to play knight in shining armor to a woman he probably never thought he'd see again. But Dave didn't seem resentful at all. Merely determined to get the job done.

Dave pressed the phone closer to his ear. "Hey, John," he said, then listened for a moment. "Yeah. Everything's fine. We're staying tonight in Monterrey, and I'll be home tomorrow. I'll tell you all about it when I get there." He listened for a moment more, his expression growing irritated. "Would you stop worrying? I'm telling you everything's okay." He turned away and lowered his voice, but Lisa could still hear him. "We're renting a plane to fly into San Antonio tomorrow morning, and I'll be heading back to Dallas soon after that. . . . Yes. I already told you. Everything's fine. I'll fill you in on the rest later."

Dave glanced at Lisa. She looked away quickly, pretending she wasn't listening to every word he spoke.

"Yeah," Dave said. "Put her on." After a moment, he smiled, and Lisa could tell by the conversation that he was talking to a child. He said something about a rabbit named Flopsy and some other kid stuff Lisa couldn't quite decipher.

"Yeah, I love you, too, baby," Dave said finally. "Put Uncle John back on, okay?" Pause. "John? It's getting late. Why isn't she in bed?" Dave listened for a moment, and suddenly his eyebrows flew up. "She's what what? Jesus, John, will you guys quit spoiling the h.e.l.l out of her? She's going to expect that every night. . . . Oh, yes, she will! And then I'll have to play the bad guy and tell her she can't do all that c.r.a.p at home." He stood and paced to the end of the phone cord and back again. "Oh, you think it's funny? Wait until you guys have kids. I've got one h.e.l.l of a long memory, big brother, and payback's a b.i.t.c.h b.i.t.c.h."

Dave looked over at Lisa and rolled his eyes. He listened for a while longer, then sighed with resignation. "Okay, fine. Whatever. Buy her a pony. Take her to Disney World for a month. Hey, why don't you pay for her college education while you're at it? That I can use."

He exhaled with disgust, shaking his head. He listened for a moment more, and then his tone grew more somber. "Will you stop with the questions? I told you I'm fine. I'll be home tomorrow evening. Give Ashley a kiss for me, will you? . . . Yeah. I'll see you then. Good night."

He hung up the phone. "My family. Good G.o.d."

"How old is your daughter?" Lisa asked.

"Five."

"So what's your brother doing?"

"Get this. He and his wife have her stuck between them in bed, feeding her fudge and popcorn and letting her stay up past her bedtime watching Cinderella Cinderella. Renee gave her the remote and told her she could rewind the good parts all she wanted to, which means an hour-and-a-half movie turns into three hours. All that sugar means she won't sleep worth a d.a.m.n, even if she has a chance to sleep after staying up so late." He shook his head with disgust. "Wait until they have kids. I'm going to teach them to sling oatmeal across the room and run naked down the street. And any other bad habits I can think up."

In spite of his feigned anger, Lisa could feel the love radiating from Dave as he talked about his family, and suddenly she was struck by an image of just how idyllic his daughter's life must be in that alternate universe, the one where little girls ate fudge and popcorn and watched Cinderella Cinderella while snuggled up next to people who loved them. And because Dave worried about dumb things like that, she knew what a good father he must be-kind and gentle and always, always there. while snuggled up next to people who loved them. And because Dave worried about dumb things like that, she knew what a good father he must be-kind and gentle and always, always there.

"So you never spoil her," Lisa said.

"Of course not."

"Liar."

"Not like that I don't!"

He glared at her. She stared at him pointedly, and after a moment he rolled his eyes. "Okay. Maybe a little. But only a little."

"Let them spoil her, too," Lisa said. "It won't hurt her a bit."

"Oh, yeah?" He pulled down the covers on his side of the bed and slid beneath them. "Wait until you have kids. You'll eat those words."

"Me? Please. I won't be having any kids."

"Why not?"

Lisa laughed, but it sounded hollow. "Come on, Dave. With the gene pool I'm drowning in, I'd be doing the world a favor if I sterilized myself."

"Don't say that."

She looked away. "You know where I come from."

"I don't care. Don't talk like that."

"I have no desire for kids. Or a husband, for that matter. Family obligates you."

"Yes, in some ways it does."

"Well, I can't deal with that. I fly charter, which means I have to be ready to take off at a moment's notice if some oil company executive needs to be in Galveston p.r.o.nto, or some widow with more money than sense decides to head to Jamaica for the weekend with a couple of friends to play in the sun. Thing is, if I go there, I get to play, too, until they're ready to fly back. I never thought I'd have that kind of freedom, and I love it. I don't want to depend on anyone, and I don't want anyone depending on me."

"I bet you've met a lot of people," Dave said. "Seen a lot of places."

"Yes. And it's been wonderful."

Dave flipped out the light and relaxed against the pillow with a weary sigh. Downstairs, the music grew louder, as if the Lozanos were gearing up for one h.e.l.l of a party.

"Where family's concerned," he told her, "you have to think of it as trading one good thing for another."

"What do you mean?"

"You trade a little of your freedom to have people to come home to who love you. People who'll stand by you no matter what. People who worry about you."

"Yeah, it starts with worry," she said. "Then they ask where you are. What you're doing. Who you're with. When you'll be home. In my case, it's, 'Why do you have to spend so much time flying?' And pretty soon, if that keeps up, I'm not flying anymore."

"Who's done that to you?"

"Men. Always."

"So you resent the fact that they expect you to cut back on your schedule to spend more time with them."

"Yes."

Dave shifted, tucking his arm behind his head. "Maybe they just weren't the right men."

Lisa thought about that, wondering if it was true. "Let's put it this way. I have yet to find a man who makes coming down out of the clouds as exciting as going up."

Several moments pa.s.sed during which the only sound in the room was the reverberation of the music downstairs. Then Dave turned to look at her, his face barely more than a silhouette in the moonlit room.

"Someday," he said, "you will."

His voice was softer now, slipping down into a lower register, like a lover's in the dark, and the very sound of it made her heart rush. In the few months after she left Tolosa, she'd had the most irrational daydreams, her mind making up a hundred wonderful fairy-tale scenarios that might bring him back into her life again. Not for a moment, though, had she actually believed that it would happen, and most certainly she'd never conceived of it happening like this.

Suddenly, even in the king-size bed, she was acutely aware of Dave lying next to her. She thought she could even feel the heat of his body, hear his soft breathing. She didn't want commitment. She didn't want forever. She didn't even want tomorrow. She just wanted this moment to edge into something more. She imagined him reaching for her, here in the darkness of this hotel room where they were a million miles away from their real lives. He would pull her into his arms, say sweet, intimate things to her, and then- "Good night, Lisa."

He shifted. Turned away. He took a deep breath, exhaled softly, and was still.

Oh, you are such such a fool a fool.

She let out a silent sigh, reminding herself once again why childish fantasies were dangerous things.

"Good night, Dave."

Thirty minutes later, Dave's eyes were still open.

Wide open.

He thought he was so tired he could sleep through anything, but not this. No way could anyone sleep through this. He swore he could feel the bed bouncing in rhythm with the undulating ba.s.s of the music downstairs. Not three minutes after he and Lisa stopped talking and started trying to sleep, the Lozanos kicked their party into overdrive.

Dave and Lisa lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling, listening to one explosive song after another.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on down there?" Lisa asked. "Did Ricky Martin stop by with three thousand of his biggest fans?"

"No. That would be tame compared to this."

Lisa flipped to her side, buried one ear in her pillow, and put her palm over the other one. "I know what it is. Before the dead can come back, they've got to wake wake the dead." the dead."

A few more minutes pa.s.sed. Another song began.

"Oh, G.o.d, no. 'The Macarena'?" Lisa threw the pillow aside and sat up on the edge of the bed. "Where's the gun? Gimme the gun."

"No, Lisa," Dave said. "No homicide."

"Why not? It's the Day of the freakin' Dead Dead, isn't it?"

"Not that you couldn't get away with it. With that noise, n.o.body would even hear the gunshots."