asked.
"Yes," she replied. "As long as they're going where I am." In fact, Perri preferred riding the busses in Mexico. They came often and stopped at the end of each block, so it was no inconvenience to ride them. Many tourists used them, as the fare was only a few cents.
Her escort had to duck his head every so often to watch for landmarks. The route wound through the Golden Zone, where most of the hotels were located, and then into old Mazatlan. Before they had progressed very far, he pushed the overhead button to get the driver to stop.
Quickly they stepped out the back door and he led her more leisurely down a narrow side street and into a cafe consisting of seven circular tables.
Her companion's manner was bold and masterful—qualities Perri viewed with suspicion. They were qualities she approved of, but only if tempered with kindness. They could be the mark of a leader...or of a tyrant.
Perri found his cocky confidence welcome at the moment. She might regret it if she had a hard time getting rid of him later, but at the moment his air of dauntlessness bolstered her spirits. And she was going to get food.
She had eaten nothing today. With the smell of food came overwhelming hunger.
Evidently the restaurant personnel were used to him, for the waiter immediately brought two coffees, black, along with a handprinted menu. "Ah, you have a lovely señorita with you tonight, Hugo," he teased in Spanish. "It's about time. A man like you, should have a different querida every night."
" Gracias, Miguel," Hugo answered easily. His deep musical voice was even more beautiful while flowing over the soft Spanish words, and Perri's well-trained ear noted how fluently he spoke. "But you must watch what you say. This señorita speaks Spanish well. ¿ Verdad?" He gazed meaningfully at Perri.
"Sí. Es verdad, " Perri admitted, switching to the Spanish tongue. "It's the main reason I got my job. I speak several languages fluently." But how did Hugo know I speak Spanish? I don’t remember using it since I got here.
"Miguel knows I like my coffee black, but is that what you want?" Hugo asked.
"I prefer the Mexican version, with lots of chocolate," she said, and Miguel immediately replaced hers while they looked at the simple menu.
They ordered and Hugo tilted his chair idly back in nonchalant relaxation, looking as though he hadn't a care in the world. Perri frowned, irritated that she couldn't figure him out. He was displaying little of his earlier obnoxious behavior. What had happened to change him?
Did he have her credit card or not? And was her brain up to finding out?
Perri knew she looked tense and frazzled...like she had worked three shifts without stopping. She was worn out, hungry and frustrated by the mystery surrounding him.
She stared at him fixedly for a full minute before realizing what she was doing. Hugo stared back at her, full lips quirked in that cocky grin he sometimes wore, having the advantage of the anonymity of dark glasses.
"Well?" he prompted, his lip curling ever so slightly, as if something about her amused him.
Perri stirred uncomfortably on the hard chair. She was tired of looking into a one-way mirror. "Take off those stupid glasses," she demanded crossly.
"Why?"
"So I can see you," she muttered, too weary to fence with him and in no mood to behave herself with the conventions required for polite manners. If he ignored them, so could she. "I don't like talking to a blank wall." He was so good at guessing everything else about her, he should have known that without her telling him.
His grin widened, suddenly mischievous, and he pulled the offending glasses down slightly, peering over the top for a brief moment. He had a slight scar that lifted one eyebrow. "Boo!" he said softly, clipping the word short, before settling the glasses back on again.
It wasn't enough time to really see what he looked like, but Perri gained an impression of power in his dark eyes, just barely restrained. His gaze
"Yes," she replied. "As long as they're going where I am." In fact, Perri preferred riding the busses in Mexico. They came often and stopped at the end of each block, so it was no inconvenience to ride them. Many tourists used them, as the fare was only a few cents.
Her escort had to duck his head every so often to watch for landmarks. The route wound through the Golden Zone, where most of the hotels were located, and then into old Mazatlan. Before they had progressed very far, he pushed the overhead button to get the driver to stop.
Quickly they stepped out the back door and he led her more leisurely down a narrow side street and into a cafe consisting of seven circular tables.
Her companion's manner was bold and masterful—qualities Perri viewed with suspicion. They were qualities she approved of, but only if tempered with kindness. They could be the mark of a leader...or of a tyrant.
Perri found his cocky confidence welcome at the moment. She might regret it if she had a hard time getting rid of him later, but at the moment his air of dauntlessness bolstered her spirits. And she was going to get food.
She had eaten nothing today. With the smell of food came overwhelming hunger.
Evidently the restaurant personnel were used to him, for the waiter immediately brought two coffees, black, along with a handprinted menu. "Ah, you have a lovely señorita with you tonight, Hugo," he teased in Spanish. "It's about time. A man like you, should have a different querida every night."
" Gracias, Miguel," Hugo answered easily. His deep musical voice was even more beautiful while flowing over the soft Spanish words, and Perri's well-trained ear noted how fluently he spoke. "But you must watch what you say. This señorita speaks Spanish well. ¿ Verdad?" He gazed meaningfully at Perri.
"Sí. Es verdad, " Perri admitted, switching to the Spanish tongue. "It's the main reason I got my job. I speak several languages fluently." But how did Hugo know I speak Spanish? I don’t remember using it since I got here.
"Miguel knows I like my coffee black, but is that what you want?" Hugo asked.
"I prefer the Mexican version, with lots of chocolate," she said, and Miguel immediately replaced hers while they looked at the simple menu.
They ordered and Hugo tilted his chair idly back in nonchalant relaxation, looking as though he hadn't a care in the world. Perri frowned, irritated that she couldn't figure him out. He was displaying little of his earlier obnoxious behavior. What had happened to change him?
Did he have her credit card or not? And was her brain up to finding out?
Perri knew she looked tense and frazzled...like she had worked three shifts without stopping. She was worn out, hungry and frustrated by the mystery surrounding him.
She stared at him fixedly for a full minute before realizing what she was doing. Hugo stared back at her, full lips quirked in that cocky grin he sometimes wore, having the advantage of the anonymity of dark glasses.
"Well?" he prompted, his lip curling ever so slightly, as if something about her amused him.
Perri stirred uncomfortably on the hard chair. She was tired of looking into a one-way mirror. "Take off those stupid glasses," she demanded crossly.
"Why?"
"So I can see you," she muttered, too weary to fence with him and in no mood to behave herself with the conventions required for polite manners. If he ignored them, so could she. "I don't like talking to a blank wall." He was so good at guessing everything else about her, he should have known that without her telling him.
His grin widened, suddenly mischievous, and he pulled the offending glasses down slightly, peering over the top for a brief moment. He had a slight scar that lifted one eyebrow. "Boo!" he said softly, clipping the word short, before settling the glasses back on again.
It wasn't enough time to really see what he looked like, but Perri gained an impression of power in his dark eyes, just barely restrained. His gaze
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