She was lying naked on top of him, with her face on his chest. When she spoke, he could feel the warmth of her breath.
Antonio maybe doesn't know exactly what's going on up here, but he knows I don't want to be disturbed. That call is probably important.
He picked up the telephone.
"A gentleman insists on speaking with you, Se¤or Frade," Antonio said. "He says he's from 'Texas A and M.'"
From the way Antonio pronounced the phrase, it was clear that he had no idea what it was.
"Put him through," Clete ordered. Dorotea snorted.
"Just checking in," Commander Delojo said. "I'm-temporarily-at the Plaza Hotel. I'd hoped we could get together soon."
"Not before Tuesday or Wednesday, I'm afraid. I'll get word to you through our friend."
"Fine," Delojo said. "Good to hear your voice."
The line went dead.
"I hope that was important," Dorotea said.
"Yes, it was."
"More important than us? Wouldn't it have waited?"
She lowered her head and nipped him on the nipple, then suddenly pushed herself off him.
"Oh, my God!" Dorotea cried. "What time is it? How long have we been here?"
"Not nearly long enough."
"By now Daddy will have called the Belgrano, found out what time the movie was over, and be sitting by the front door with his watch in his hand."
"He's going to have to find out sooner or later that we've been up to more than finger kissing. Preferably sooner, under the circumstances."
"Not today, thank you," she said, and pushed herself off him and slipped out of bed.
She bent over to reclaim the clothing strewn all over the floor and trotted naked into the bathroom.
"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life," Clete called after her.
"After we have our baby, I will be fat and ugly and you won't even want to look at me."
"Jesus, Dorotea!"
"I wish women could just lay eggs, like chickens," Dorotea called from the bathroom. "You know, just sit on a nest."
"You're a lunatic!" he called as she closed the bathroom door.
He put his hands under his head and looked around the room.
I probably should have some sort of guilty feeling, making love to her in my father's bed on the day I buried him, but I don't.
"You want me to take you home?" he asked in nearly a shout.
"God, no!" Dorotea called back. "Put me in a taxi!"
He got out of bed, pulled on his clothes, and reached for his battered pair of cowboy boots.