Well, she thought grimly, that was just fine. She didn’t want anything from him, didn’t need anything from him—it was bad enough they were going to have to ride back to El Corazon together, but what choice did she have except to climb into the vintage Cadillac alongside Conor? Not that she’d have to look at him, once they were inside the car. The limousine was as big as a boat; she could sit in one corner and Conor in the other, and if and when she felt the need to ask a question, she could ask it of Pablo.
The manager peered over the reservation desk, looked at Arden as she lugged the case in his direction, then looked at Conor, still strolling calmly behind her, and his brows rose into his hairline.
‘Buenas tardes, señorita.’
Arden nodded. ‘Good afternoon,’ she panted. With a little groan, she dropped the suitcase to the floor and stepped up to the desk. ‘I’m checking out,’ she said. ‘Here’s my key.’
‘Certainly.’ He took the key from her and cleared his throat. ‘Do you—ah—do you need any assistance, señorita?’
What she needed, Arden thought, was someone to march over to Conor Martinez and punch him in the jaw.
‘If you give me a moment, I’ll get the boy to help you.’
‘She’s managing just fine,’ Conor said pleasantly.
Arden spun towards him. He was lounging against a chair, examining his finger nails.
‘Señorita? Shall I call the boy?’
Conor looked up and their eyes met. ‘On second thought,’ he said with a tight smile, ‘perhaps you should. I suspect the señorita’s going to need all the help she can get.’
The words, Arden knew, had a double meaning. It was a ridiculous challenge—and yet, she found herself rising to meet it.
‘Thank you, señor,’ she said, her eyes still fastened to Conor’s, ‘but it isn’t necessary. I can manage very well on my own.’
She took a breath, grasped the handle of the suitcase, hoisted it up and marched to the front door. It took enormous effort to shove the door open, more effort still to wrestle the luggage out to the pavement, but she managed. She managed, as well, to let the door slam in Conor’s face. It was the one thing that had happened in the past hour that made her smile.
With a gusty sigh, she dropped the bag to the ground and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. The Cadillac wasn’t out front, as she’d expected, but then, this part of the city was fairly crowded with commercial establishments and small shops which made traffic fairly heavy. Pablo had probably had to drive off and circle the block while he waited for Conor to reappear. Arden’s mouth turned down. That was what the rich made their chauffeurs do all the time; she’d seen it happen often enough along Greenfield’s trendy main street back home.
An expensive car would pull to the kerb, a chauffeur would leap out, open the rear door, and a figure would emerge.
‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ he or she would say with a dismissive wave, and the chauffeur would drive off, return dutifully at the appointed time—and then have to circle the block endlessly, waiting for his thoughtless employer to reappear.
Arden lifted the scooped neckline of her dress away from her skin and fanned it lightly back and forth. It was quite warm, far warmer than usual in this city comfortably situated on a mountain plateau. The Cadillac, at least, had air-conditioning. Pablo had offered to turn it on last time he’d taken her to the finca but she’d turned him down, preferring the sweet scents of wildflowers to the smell of artificially chilled air, but this time she’d let him turn it on full blast. In fact, she thought grimly, giving Conor a glance out of the corner of her eye, she’d tell him to turn it on the instant she climbed into the car. She might as well establish who was in charge, right from the beginning...
From the beginning. What had Felix said about beginnings? Something about—about—
‘Have you got your second wind yet?’
She looked up. Conor was looking at her, smiling politely, speaking in that same pleasant, unemotional tone he’d used when he’d spoken to the desk clerk.
Arden’s brows arched. ‘Are you speaking to me?’
‘I must be,’ he said, still pleasantly. ‘I don’t see anybody else here, do you?’
‘Well, then, thank you very much for your interest in my health. But I assure you—’
‘Is that a yes?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘It’s more of a “none of your business”,’ she said coldly.
He nodded. ‘I see. In that case, I won’t bother about whether or not you can keep up with me, I’ll just set a pace and let you worry about meeting it.’ He stepped away from the building and set off down the street. His gait was not quick but it was steady; in a few seconds, he was several yards away.
‘Hey.’ Arden got to he
r feet. ‘Hey—where are you going?’
Conor turned and looked at her. ‘To the car.’