The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [197]
“Mrs. O’Hara,” she said, offering her hand.
“O’Hara?” he said, his brow furrowing, “I seem to know that name….”
She turned away hastily. “I’m afraid I must get back. My daughter will be anxious to go in to dinner by now.”
He laughed and said, “Ah, young girls are always hungry. We can only watch them in amazement and wonder where they put it ail.” He strode along the path beside her. “A pleasure to meet you, señora,” he said with another courtly little bow as she hurried back into the hotel.
Later, in the dining room, he bowed and smiled as he strolled past on his way to his table and the girls stared after him in amazement.
“You mean you’ve actually met him?” they chorused excitedly.
Missie nodded. “We discussed gardens.”
“Imagine discussing gardens with a man like that,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “Why, he’s the most wicked-looking man I’ve ever seen.”
They stared at him across the room, lowering their eyes, blushing as he caught their glance and smiled at them.
“He’s interesting,” Azaylee breathed, “not like these silly boys who’ve been pestering us all week long.”
“Interestingly wicked,” Rachel added, and Missie sighed as they collapsed into giggles again.
Nevertheless, she made a few discreet inquiries at the hotel about Señor del Villaloso and discovered that he was a regular customer, well known as a heavy bettor at the racetrack and also as a ladies’ man. He was rarely around during the day, but in future she merely nodded politely when she saw him and went out of her way to avoid being alone in the garden.
“You know what,” Azaylee said to Rachel one evening after dinner. “I’m bored.” She was sprawled across a sofa, her long slender legs flung over the back. “Unless you’re mad about racing or booze, there’s really not much to do around here. Not even sex.”
“And what do you know about sex?” Rachel scoffed.
Azaylee swung her legs back over the sofa and sat up. “Not much,” she admitted, “but I’m willing to learn. Tijuana’s just up the road, Rache. What do you say we pay it a little visit?”
Her eyes lighted up with excitement and Rachel stared at her doubtfully. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s just dress up older and go see what it’s like there. We can stroll around, peek through a few doors … just do something.” She giggled. “Come on, admit it, Rache, you’re just the teeniest bit curious?”
“Not as curious as you,” she admitted, grinning, “but I’m game if you are.”
Azaylee ran to the closet. “We’ll put on our slinkiest dresses. You’ll look okay because your hair is bobbed, but I’ll just have to pin mine up and put on a hat.”
Dressed in their raciest attire, which was pretty sedate, they sneaked out of the hotel and asked for a taxi. The driver stared at them in astonishment when they demanded to be taken to Tijuana and then he asked double the usual price.
“A dónde ahora?” he asked as they cruised slowly down the narrow, crowded main street, lined with bars and honky-tonk joints.
“Right here will do.” Azaylee leapt out, thrusting half his fare into his outstretched hand. “Kindly wait. We shall be back in one hour.”
He shrugged indifferently, watching as they walked off, arms linked, clutching each other nervously as if they expected someone to leap from an alley and kidnap them to be sold into white slavery. Loud music spilled from a hundred bars and touts, pimps, whores, and drunks hung around the doorways.
Azaylee stopped to stare at the pictures outside the notorious Venus and the sign that said “Anything Goes.” She peered interestedly at the louvered door, drawing back with a gasp as it swung open to eject yet another drunk. Her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of a naked woman onstage with two men.
With a gasp, she grabbed Rachel’s arm and hurried on. “Did you see that?” she muttered. “Did you see what they were doing, Rache?”
“No.” Azaylee’s startled eyes stared into hers, and she said, “What, Azaylee? Come on, tell me!”
Azaylee gulped