was. She glanced at her once-perfect French manicure. The white polish had worn off the tips of her nails, and several of the nails were broken. She knew her makeup had streaked, what with the way she’d been perspiring, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if her face was as grimy as her hands. And her clothes …
Part of her wished he’d seen her under normal circumstances in San Diego. The more logical part of her preferred this new image, though, for she could ill afford to have anyone show a personal interest in her just then. She’d done enough damage to being inconspicuous as it was.
“Who was that man?” she asked Rosa.
“Paulo. His uncle owns the house over there.” She pointed to the beautiful glass and stucco house on the opposite side of the cove. “He came here from some trouble in Los Angeles.”
Judith turned and looked at the house. “Paulo” was just topping the hillside, his well-conditionedfigure easy to discern, even in the near dusk. So he was in trouble too. She felt a tug of emotion for the man, then steeled herself against it. Unfortunately, the thread of sympathy was already pulling tight around her heart.
She and Rosa, mostly Rosa, finished the washing of the trailer. Sweat drenched Judith by the time they were done. She wondered if she could get a shower on a loan, since she didn’t have any pesos yet, then decided she was too tired to deal with another negotiation.
She shut the door of the trailer and within minutes realized that a sauna didn’t have nearly the humidity she had in her new home. She thought about taking off her clothes, but one look at the old mattress made her think again. She lowered herself gingerly onto it and waited for little visitors. None arrived. Thank goodness. The thing was lumpy, but not so bad.
Who was she kidding? Everything was awful. She was hiding in a foreign country in primitive conditions. All she wanted to do was to go home. But she couldn’t.
All kinds of images crowded in on her. Ones from home mixed with thoughts of needed supplies. She had nothing to eat, not even a cracker. When the shock of what she’d done wore off, she’d be hungry. But the Mercedes would be noticed on the main highway. She’d have to do something about that.
Her thoughts mixed with ones about a verydisturbing man. She wondered again what had happened to him, this Paulo. He was almost a kindred spirit with her. No, he was a sexy spirit, not at all the kind she needed. If she wasn’t careful, she could easily be in more trouble here than anything produced back home thus far. And that was saying something.
She could still see him rising godlike out of the sea. She could still feel that fathomless gaze raking over her with its mixture of virile assessment and disdain.
The remembered sensations kept her awake most of the night.
TWO
Paul was just getting into his truck when the newest resident of Sunset Cove came into view. She was hurrying over the rocky ground, her low-heeled shoes no support for the job. She’ll break an ankle, he thought. She was waving her hands at him.
“Hello!” she called out, smiling. “It’s Paulo, isn’t it?”
Paul stared at her, surprised she’d gone to the trouble of finding out his name. It pleased him too. He noticed she had made use of the community shower, because her skin was clean and her hair was damp. She was still wearing the same clothes as the day before, only they were in even worse condition. They couldn’t hide her shape, however. He unwillingly smiled back. “It’s Paul, actually. Hello.”
She glanced around at the rusted chain-linkfence surrounding half-stripped refrigerators and their parts. A tangle of honeysuckle insisted on spreading over the fencing, although the sweet-scented flowers couldn’t hide the dilapidation. Two of the dogs he kept as watchers for the yard rose on their skinny haunches and came sniffing. He was there, so they didn’t raise too much of a ruckus.
From the look of
Darren Koolman Luis Chitarroni