Lennea followed her inside the hollow arch of the doorway. The thin cotton shirt had grown wet against her body. The heat beneath the shade of the trees had stifled her: it was only slightly cooler under the shelter of stone. "Why didn't you contact me at the airport?" "Because he was there at the baggage claim." "Who was there?" Hadn't Wesley and all the rest warned her that it would be some wild romance? Lennea responded with anger. "The least you could have done is told me!" "I didn't know he was crazy! He just came out of nowhere all of a sudden, crazy as hell!" "What do you mean crazy?" "He was going to kill me!" "Kill you! Why?" She eyed Delores suspiciously. "What did you do to him?" "Nothing." Delores' sharp features hardened. With a nervous, jerky motion, she shook back her dark curls. "I just wanted to quit—you know—break it off. But he wouldn't accept the fact that I've found someone else!" Delores certainly wasn't talking about the man who had been following Lennea, the Mayan.
