"What the hell are you? Ricardo Montalban's younger brother? South America's version of Tennessee Williams? An extra from Miami Vice ?"
"Rucker, don't do this!" Dinah interjected. "Diego, I apologize—"
"Your husband's reputation for humor is certainly well earned, querida ."
Anger made scarlet dots on her cheeks as she glared at Rucker. " Señor Valdivia is a respected businessman. He owns the largest coffee and banana plantations in this country."
Rucker jerked a thumb toward the tense bodyguards. "Tell these ugly bean pickers to lay off the caffeine."
"You really beg for trouble, Señor," Valdivia said lightly.
"No, he just has more pride than sense," Dinah corrected. She laid a hand on Rucker's arm.
His warning came back soft and deadly. "Don't touch me."
She shrugged, her mouth a tight line of control, and placed her hand back on her white eel-skin shoulder bag. "How did you locate me?"
"I hired people who specialize in finding liars."
"I never lied to you. I left before I had to lie to you— about my feelings, about our future together."
"Thanks for carin'."
" Señor McClure," Valdivia interjected. "Dinah and I have a flight to catch."
"When I want to hear from you, I'll ask you a question," Rucker told him curtly. "Where are you going?" he asked Dinah.
"That's none of your business."
Rucker's voice was very deep. Now, filled with fury, it was a fierce rumble. 'The hell it isn't."
"I want a divorce. Go back to Alabama and take care of the legalities. I don't want any settlement, so it should be easy." His response to her words was a lethal tightening of body and face; eyes that went dark, icy green; primitive reactions rising to the surface.
Her eyes flickered over him with sudden fear. "If you try to drag me out of here, you'll be killed."
"Undoubtedly," Valdivia added in a pleasant tone.
Rucker wasn't certain that he cared. He held Dinah's gaze, losing his past and future in their cold, unwavering stare.
"There were things you left behind other than me," he finally told her. "Things you loved. Your mother's jewelry. Your trophies."
"Trophies?" Valdivia inquired.
Dinah blinked as if coming back to life and glanced away from Rucker. "Beauty contest trophies," she said.
"She was Miss Gum Spirits of 1973," Rucker noted in a biting tone. He paused, hating himself for this pettiness, hating Valdivia, and wishing he could hate Dinah. "She was Miss Georgia later on, and she could have been Miss America, but she backed out. Something about her personal scruples. Hell, it's too bad she can't give it a second try. Now she has no scruples."
One of her hands lurched out toward him, wavering as if she were desperately looking for support. He was so shocked that he didn't stop to think, he simply held his hand out in return.
"Stop, stop," she murmured, then turned swiftly and grasped Valdivia's arm. "We need to leave, Diego."
"Yes, of course."
"Where did you meet him?" Rucker demanded, nodding toward Valdivia. "Just tell me that."
"Two years ago, when I went to the Conference of the Americas, in New Orleans."
"I had an interest in the political systems of small towns in your country," Valdivia added with a predatory show of teeth that could have been mistaken for a smile. "Dinah, as mayor of that village—what was the name, querida ?"
"Mount Pleasant."
"Yes. She fascinated me. Step out of the way, Señor McClure."
"Give me an address," Rucker told her. "So I can have my lawyer contact you."
She shook her head. "I have your address. Assuming that you still live in Mount Pleasant."
"Yes." It's my home . he added silently, and your home .
"I'll send you something—whatever the court needs —that absolves you from a divorce settlement."
"Step back, Señor," Valdivia said. The unpleasant edge in his voice caused the bodyguards to inch closer.
"Please," Dinah added. Her eyes begged Rucker. "It's over. I couldn't take anymore. We're too different. We always were. Now go home and forget about me."
A
"Rucker, don't do this!" Dinah interjected. "Diego, I apologize—"
"Your husband's reputation for humor is certainly well earned, querida ."
Anger made scarlet dots on her cheeks as she glared at Rucker. " Señor Valdivia is a respected businessman. He owns the largest coffee and banana plantations in this country."
Rucker jerked a thumb toward the tense bodyguards. "Tell these ugly bean pickers to lay off the caffeine."
"You really beg for trouble, Señor," Valdivia said lightly.
"No, he just has more pride than sense," Dinah corrected. She laid a hand on Rucker's arm.
His warning came back soft and deadly. "Don't touch me."
She shrugged, her mouth a tight line of control, and placed her hand back on her white eel-skin shoulder bag. "How did you locate me?"
"I hired people who specialize in finding liars."
"I never lied to you. I left before I had to lie to you— about my feelings, about our future together."
"Thanks for carin'."
" Señor McClure," Valdivia interjected. "Dinah and I have a flight to catch."
"When I want to hear from you, I'll ask you a question," Rucker told him curtly. "Where are you going?" he asked Dinah.
"That's none of your business."
Rucker's voice was very deep. Now, filled with fury, it was a fierce rumble. 'The hell it isn't."
"I want a divorce. Go back to Alabama and take care of the legalities. I don't want any settlement, so it should be easy." His response to her words was a lethal tightening of body and face; eyes that went dark, icy green; primitive reactions rising to the surface.
Her eyes flickered over him with sudden fear. "If you try to drag me out of here, you'll be killed."
"Undoubtedly," Valdivia added in a pleasant tone.
Rucker wasn't certain that he cared. He held Dinah's gaze, losing his past and future in their cold, unwavering stare.
"There were things you left behind other than me," he finally told her. "Things you loved. Your mother's jewelry. Your trophies."
"Trophies?" Valdivia inquired.
Dinah blinked as if coming back to life and glanced away from Rucker. "Beauty contest trophies," she said.
"She was Miss Gum Spirits of 1973," Rucker noted in a biting tone. He paused, hating himself for this pettiness, hating Valdivia, and wishing he could hate Dinah. "She was Miss Georgia later on, and she could have been Miss America, but she backed out. Something about her personal scruples. Hell, it's too bad she can't give it a second try. Now she has no scruples."
One of her hands lurched out toward him, wavering as if she were desperately looking for support. He was so shocked that he didn't stop to think, he simply held his hand out in return.
"Stop, stop," she murmured, then turned swiftly and grasped Valdivia's arm. "We need to leave, Diego."
"Yes, of course."
"Where did you meet him?" Rucker demanded, nodding toward Valdivia. "Just tell me that."
"Two years ago, when I went to the Conference of the Americas, in New Orleans."
"I had an interest in the political systems of small towns in your country," Valdivia added with a predatory show of teeth that could have been mistaken for a smile. "Dinah, as mayor of that village—what was the name, querida ?"
"Mount Pleasant."
"Yes. She fascinated me. Step out of the way, Señor McClure."
"Give me an address," Rucker told her. "So I can have my lawyer contact you."
She shook her head. "I have your address. Assuming that you still live in Mount Pleasant."
"Yes." It's my home . he added silently, and your home .
"I'll send you something—whatever the court needs —that absolves you from a divorce settlement."
"Step back, Señor," Valdivia said. The unpleasant edge in his voice caused the bodyguards to inch closer.
"Please," Dinah added. Her eyes begged Rucker. "It's over. I couldn't take anymore. We're too different. We always were. Now go home and forget about me."
A
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