Beautiful Sacrifice

the night and roll around in the darkness with your gringo lover. But be in your own bed before dawn, ready to pay Abuelita and Carlos the respect they are due, and to be the Reyes Balam woman you were meant to be.”
    “Or at least pretend to be that woman?”
    Celia smiled and hugged her daughter. “I knew you would understand. Once Abuelita is dead, things will change. Carlos is a man of the world.”
    When her mother released her, Lina said, “As long as you understand that Hunter will be treated as a guest while he is here. If you insult him, we will leave. Please tell your cousin.”
    “Abuelita won’t—”
    “Abuelita has the excuse of age,” Lina cut in. “You don’t. Carlos doesn’t. Philip is rude to everybody, so he’ll just be treating Hunter like one of the family.”
    There was a long silence while Celia digested the change in her daughter. She had always wondered what it would take for Lina to dig in and demand respect as an adult.
    Now Celia knew. She couldn’t say she was relishing it. It had been much easier when Lina had been eager to please.
    “How long will you be staying?” Celia asked finally.
    “How long can everyone be civil to Hunter?” Lina asked in return.
    Her mother nodded tightly. “Abuelita will expect to see you, and your guest .”
    “As soon as Hunter and I have had a chance to bathe and change our clothes, we’ll be eager to see her. Or would she rather have us as we are now?”
    Celia looked at her daughter’s rumpled travel wear. “Abuelita is resting. Meet us for canapés in the library at eight.”
     
     
    H UNTER OPENED THE DOOR AT L INA’S LIGHT KNOCK . O BVIOUSLY she kept clothes at the estate, because she sure wasn’t dressed tonight out of a cut-rate chain store. She wore a simple teal silk dress that probably cost its weight in diamonds, and strappy heels to match. A heavy gold bracelet was clasped around one wrist. Matching earrings swayed gently. He couldn’t read the glyphs in the dim light of the porch.
    She looked uncertainly at his black, artificially faded jeans, bare feet, and bare chest. “Didn’t the maid give you my message?”
    Hunter barely heard the question. The soft silk dress flowed over her like a lover’s mouth, hinting at the full nipples on her breasts, clinging to the lush curves of her hips and thighs. He wanted to go down on his knees and worship every female inch of her.
    “Hunter?”
    “Excuse me while I reel in my tongue,” he said, his voice deep.
    Lina felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I should have warned you. On the estate, I’m expected to dress for dinner.”
    “I’m not complaining. You look damned edible. Will I get parent points subtracted if I leave drool marks on your dress?”
    She laughed, stepped into the casita, and closed the door behind her. Seconds later, she was wrapped in Hunter’s arms.
    “Just don’t bite me anywhere it shows,” she said.
    His glance went to her breasts and the sweet place between her thighs. “I can work with that.”
    She felt ravished, and she loved every hot instant of it. Anyone who saw Hunter’s eyes now would never describe them as cold.
    “Later,” she said, her voice breathless. “Celia kept me from coming to get you until the last minute.”
    “I figured. She doesn’t want you to have time even for a quickie,” he said.
    “In some ways, she is old-fashioned,” Lina said against the warmth of Hunter’s skin. Chest hair tickled softly, making her smile.
    “So am I,” he said.
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. For me, quickies just don’t get the job done. Unless I’m going to be locked in the casita tonight. Then I’ll take whatever I can get now, however I can get it.”
    “I know where the keys are kept,” she whispered teasingly against his chin. “I’ll set you free.”
    Hunter bit her neck very gently, very thoroughly. When he lifted his head, the only mark he left was her quickened breathing and heightened color.
    “I’ll count on it,” he said. “Now turn on the TV or something while I get dressed.”
    Reluctantly, she went to the remote on the small coffee table. In the quiet, the bar refrigerator in the tiny kitchen hummed, shuddered, and went still. Sounds of the jungle seeped through the thick limestone walls of the casita. The door to Hunter’s bedroom closed.
    Sighing, she flicked on the TV remote.
    Every news channel she hit had something on the Maya baktun. It was being treated like the New Year’s Eve countdown in Times Square.