"They what?" Katie hissed in outraged disgust.
"They call you that because they have all wanted you, and not one of them has had you."
"I'll bet that amazed you," Katie said bitterly. "No doubt you thought that anyone who'd wear such a vulgar bathing suit—"
"It made me very proud," he interrupted quietly. Katie had had all she could stand. She shoved at his immovable chest.
"Well, I hate to disappoint you—knowing how 'proud' you were—but I am not a virgin."
She saw the effect of her announcement in the hardening line of his jaw, but he made no comment on it. Instead he said, "Until now, they have treated you with respect, like a beautiful little sister. But if you appear out here in the littlest bits of string and cloth I have ever seen called a bathing suit—they will be after you like a pack of dogs after a bitch in heat."
"I don't give a blessed damn what they think! And," Katie warned darkly when he opened his mouth, "if you dare tell me not to swear, I will slap you so hard your head will fall off!"
His arms fell away and Katie swam to the ladder, climbed out of the pool, stopped at the chaise lounge long enough to sweep up her towel and went back to her apartment alone. Once she was inside she would have locked the door but Ramon's clothes were still there, so she locked her bedroom door instead.
Thirty minutes later, when she had showered and climbed into bed, Ramon knocked at her door.
Katie knew better than to open the door and give Ramon the opportunity to take her in his arms. Where Ramon was concerned her body refused to listen to reason, and in two minutes he'd have her melting and pliant.
"Katie, stop sulking and open this door."
"I'm sure you can find your way out," Katie said coldly. "I am going to sleep." For emphasis she turned out the lamp on her nightstand.
"Katie, for God's sake, do not do this to us."
"There is no 'us.' There never was," Katie said. And then because it hurt somehow to have said the words aloud she added, "I don't know why you want to marry me but I do know all the reasons why I can't marry you. Talking about them isn't going to change anything. Please go away. I really think it's best for both of us this way."
There was an ominous quiet in the apartment after that. Katie waited, watching the clock until forty-five minutes had elapsed, then silently, cautiously, unlocked her door and peeked around the darkened apartment. Ramon had left, turning out all the lights and locking the door behind him. She went back to bed and crawled under the cool sheets, propping the pillows up behind her and turning on the bedside lamp.
What a narrow escape she'd had! Well, not that narrow—she had never actually considered marrying Ramon. In his arms she had been swept to the brink of sexual desperation, that was all. Fortunately no woman in this day and age had to marry just to assuage her sexual needs, including Katherine Connelly! She just happened to have wanted Ramon more than she had ever wanted anyone—even Rob.
That thought sent Katie's mind into chaos. Maybe she had been closer to capitulation than she'd realized. Her job wasn't all that rewarding; the men she knew seemed shallow and self-centered. And Ramon was the antithesis of them. He catered to her every whim. At the zoo he went wherever she wanted to go. If she looked tired he insisted that she sit down and rest. If she gave more than a passing glance at any refreshment stand he was quick to ask if she was hungry or thirsty. If she wanted to swim, he swam. If she wanted to dance, he danced—so long as he could hold her in his arms, she reminded herself crossly.
He wouldn't even let her carry a small bag of groceries or her overnight case. He didn't push open a door, walk past it, and let it come banging back into her face as many men did—then glance at her with a look that said, "Well, you women wanted equality; open your own doors."
Katie shook her head. What was the matter with her, thinking about marrying a man because he picked up a five-pound bag of groceries and opened doors for her? But there was more to Ramon than that. He was so supremely confident of his own masculinity that he had no fear of being gentle. He was self-assured and very proud, yet where she was concerned, he seemed strangely vulnerable.
Katie's thoughts reeled onto another path. How, if he really had lived in near-poverty, had he been so thoroughly familiar with the formalities observed at her parents' elaborately laid dining table? Not once had he shown the slightest uncertainty about which piece of silver to use with which course. Nor had he been the slightest bit uneasy around her parents' affluent friends.
Why did he want to marry her and not just go to bed with her? Last night on the sofa, he had known that she was long past the point of denying him anything. "Want me as much as I want you," he had insisted and implored. And when she did want him that much, he had pulled away, sat back, closed his eyes, and unemotionally asked her to marry him. Had he asked her to marry him instead of making love to her because he thought she was a virgin? Latins still prized virginity even in this day of sexual emancipation. Would he have wanted to marry her if he had realized she wasn't a virgin? Katie seriously doubted it and that made her feel humiliated and furiously indignant. Ramon Galverra had known exactly what to do to arouse her to a fever pitch of desire last night and he hadn't learned how from books! Who did he think he was, anyway? He was no virgin!
Turning out the light Katie flopped back against the pillows. Thank heaven she'd come no closer to going to Puerto Rico with him! He would insist on being the unchallenged head of his household; he had practically said as much on their picnic. He would expect his wife to cook and clean and cater to him. He would, no doubt, keep her "barefoot and pregnant," too.
Why, no liberated American woman in her right mind would consider marrying such a classic male chauvinist... a male chauvinist who would be fiercely protective of his own... who would treat his wife as if she were made of fragile glass... who would probably work until he dropped to give her whatever she wanted.. .who could be so intensely passionate... and so gentle....
CHAPTER SIX
Katie awoke the next morning to the insistent ringing of the telephone beside her bed. Groping dazedly she lifted the receiver from the cradle and pulled it across the pillow tucking it against her ear. Her mother's voice began before Katie could say hello. "Katie darling, who on earth was that man?" "Ramon Galverra," Katie answered, her eyes still closed.
"I know his name, you told us that. What is he doing with you?"
"Doing with me?" Katie mumbled. "Nothing."
"Katie, don't be obtuse! The man obviously knows you have money—we have money—I have the feeling he's after something."
Katie groggily tried to defend Ramon. "He's not after money, he's after a wife."
The phone went silent. When her mother's voice sounded again, each word was iced with contempt. "That Puerto Rican farmer actually thinks he is going to marry you?"
"Spanish," Katie corrected, her mother's voice jarring her mind into focus.
"What?"
"I said he's Spanish, not Puerto Rican. Actually, he's American."
"Katherine," the voice demanded with terse impatience. "You are not, in your wildest imaginings, considering marrying that man are you?"
Katie hesitated as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I don't think so."
"You don't think so? Katherine, stay there and don't let that man near you until we get there. Lord, this would kill your father. We'll be there right after breakfast."
"No, don't!" Katie said, finally coming out of her sleepy stupor altogether. "Mom, listen. You woke me up and I can hardly think straight, but there's nothing for you to worry about. I'm not going to marry Ramon; I doubt if I'll ever see him again."
"Katherine, are you sure? You aren't just saying that to pacify me?"
"No, really I'm not."
"All right, darling, but if he comes near you again just call us, and we'll be there in thirty minutes."
"Mom—"
"Call us, Katie. Your father and I love you and want t
o protect you. Don't be ashamed to admit you can't cope with that Spaniard, or Puerto Rican, or whatever he is."
Katie opened her mouth to protest that she didn't need to be "protected" from Ramon, then changed her mind. Her mother wouldn't believe her and Katie didn't want to argue with her. "Okay," she sighed. "If I need you, I'll call. Bye mom."
What was the matter with her parents, Katie wondered angrily a half hour later as she pulled on a pair of yellow velour slacks and a matching yellow top. Why would they think that Ramon would hurt her or do anything that would make her have to call them for help? Brushing her hair back off her forehead, she secured it with a tortoiseshell clip at the crown, then added a touch of coral to her lips and mascara to her lashes. She would go shopping for something frivolous and expensive to take her mind off Ramon and her parents, she decided.
The doorbell rang, as Katie had feared it might, as she was putting her coffee mug in the dishwasher. Her parents, of course. They had finished with their breakfast; now they had come over to finish with Ramon, figuratively speaking.
Resignedly, she went into the living room, pulled open the door, then stepped back in surprise from the tall lithe figure blocking the sunlight. "I—I was just going to leave," Katie said.