Free The Bride Tamer by Ann Major Page B

covered with makeshift roofs of faded canvas and tin. Inside, the stifling air reeked of fried food, hemp, cayenne, green spices, curry, leather and disinfectant. After the day’s blinding brightness, the cramped aisles and crowded stalls seemed dark and confining. He wandered among sandal shops, candy stores, hammock makers and piñatas. Soon the stalls and merchandise made him feel like he was in a maze. Would he even recognize Aphrodite—dressed?
    Smiling vendors jumped in front of him. “Sandals. From Campeche. Handmade, señor. ”
    â€œSeñor, guayaberas?” A man flapped a short-sleeved shirt with four pockets and distinctive vertical rows of double stitching at Cash.
    Cash shook his head politely. Swiftly he moved past tables of leatherette watchbands, used magazines, videocassettes of pirated American movies, leather backpacks, silver and coral jewelry, as well as embroidered huipiles.
    â€œSouvenir? Live pet beetle?” A pretty girl with jet-black hair, pale brown skin and high cheekbones, as well as the Mayan’s hooked nose, jumped in front of Cash and pointed to her arms that were crawling with beetles.
    â€œNo, gracias, ” he murmured, holding his hands up.
    Suddenly he’d had enough. Vivian would just have to get over her embarrassment and return to Isabela’s on her own. He’d never find her in this labyrinth.
    Stumbling blindly down the aisles, he banged into hanging piñatas and got hopelessly tangled in a rebozo. Luckily a Mayan girl gave him directions.
    He was striding toward a street entrance when a redheaded woman in a shapeless, brightly embroidered white huipil and a black skirt looked up and saw him. Screaming, she dived under a table, knocking sandals and hats everywhere.
    He knew that scream and that shade of copper-red hair.
    â€œVivian!” he shouted.
    When he lunged for her, she kicked a stool at him. He tripped over it and went sprawling on the concrete. He was scrambling to his feet when he caught a glimpse of her copper curls under the counter.
    â€œAphrodite?”
    A young man with a thin black mustache offered him a hand up.
    His eyes narrowing on the woman, Cash shook his head and flattened himself on the concrete. “Vivian?”
    â€œGo away!”
    â€œCome out from behind there.”
    She made an animal sound that hung low in her throat and crouched lower, trying to conceal her bright head behind a counter leg.
    â€œI’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said as she began to crawl backward. When she didn’t respond, he added, “There’s a wall behind you—filled with hats. The jig’s up.”
    They stood up slowly, not taking their eyes off each other. She was wearing Mexican silver jewelry with amethysts, thewhite huipil, the local blouse lots of the Mayan women wore, a black skirt, and huaraches.
    â€œYou’ve gone native,” he muttered.
    â€œWhy aren’t you at the beach with Isabela?” she whispered. “Why aren’t you ever where you’re supposed to be?”
    â€œDo you know heem, Mees?” The young man with the mustache was picking up his sandals and hats and frowning at Cash.
    â€œWe’re friends,” Cash said, dusting himself off. “Give us some privacy, amigo. ”
    â€œI don’t know him, Huicho,” Vivian said. “Sell the gringo a hat or some sandals for his big feet.”
    Huicho grabbed Cash with one arm and pulled a wide-brimmed straw hat off a shelf. But when she tried to bolt, Cash lunged and seized her by the wrist. She wriggled, but he yanked her closer.
    â€œForget it, kid. I have a big head.”
    Smiling, Huicho patted his hat. “Muy grande, señor.”
    â€œLet me go!” she snapped, squirming.
    â€œWhen you calm down, maybe I will.”
    She quit struggling and stared at him until he released her.
    â€œWhy aren’t you with Isabela?” she asked, as Cash took the hat