"You'll starve if you just sit there, Miller."

He turned to find Billy in an almost bikini, leaning in the archway. The image shelled his mind and he found it difficult to speak. "Uhh . . . hi. What do you mean?"

"This is where the staff eats, you should have kept going down the steps here."

He sighed heavily and made apologetic gestures to the happy-faced cook and left to join her. "They refused my chit in the dining room, guess I'll have to speak to your father again."

"She refused your chit, huh?" Billy laughed and started down the stairs. He followed the bikini bottom and nearly tripped into a potted cactus. She stopped at the bottom and held out her hand to direct him ahead of her. Reluctantly he obeyed and found himself in a charming little grotto of colourful lamps and paintings surrounding a café set-up of tables covered with red cloths, and comfortable armchairs.

"What are you doing here?"

"I eat too, Miller."

"I mean, here. Why not in the famous, Fonda Anita?" He waved a deprecating hand toward the second floor.

"It'll get you a decent dinner or brunch but no lunch or breakfast. Those you get down here. It was nothing personal."

"Well, this is nice." He admitted.

"It's called, Divers." She chose a table by the wall and spread her towel over the chair before sitting.

"Do they serve bacon?"

"Torcino. That's what you ask for." She ran long fingers through her hair and leaned back, studying him.

"What?"

"Did you enjoy lunch yesterday? I'm surprised to see you up so early."

Miller blushed and chuckled. "Did I make an ass of myself?"

"Don't say that around Henry, but no, you just had a little too much sun and drink." She grinned at his discomfort. "You also missed dinner."

He looked up sharply and wet his lips. "Dinner? I did?"

"Yes. We had to haul you up those steps in Casa Faro and get you into bed. It was a task let me tell you."

"We? You mean you put me to bed? Who else?"

"Miguel. He and I managed finally to drag you through that hole in the floor and then get your stuff off. I stopped at the pants, I didn't think we knew one another well enough for that." Miller turned crimson. "By the way, that is a dynamite view you have up there. Spend a little money on the place and the resort could have a real winner. Use it for honeymoons and things." She twirled a finger through her damp hair.

He pictured her removing his shirt and wondered if he would have been so restrained had circumstances had been reversed. "Why don't you mention the idea to your dad?"

"He's still grumbling about my last suggestion." She leaned back to allow the waitress to place their plates and cutlery. "¿Dos torcino y el pan, y nos puede servir te, por favor?"

"Si." The waitress smiled and left with the menus."

"I didn't order?" Miller complained.

"I did. We're having toast and bacon and tea."

"I prefer coffee."

"Trust me, Miller, you won't like the milk."

He made a dismissive noise. "So what was the suggestion that upset your father?"

She smiled grimly and toyed with her fork. "I goaded him into pursuing his assistant, Miss Ramirez. I told him she was kind of keen on him and he should check her out." She opened her napkin and spread it on her lap. "He was like a teenager . . . all left feet and thumbs. Helen told me later that she found it really cute and complimentary but it ended there. He was too frightened."

Miller gaped at her. "Your father? You tried to fix your father up with another woman?"

"He's alone too much," she said offhandedly.

"But your mother . . . ?"

"What about her? She's away with her boyfriend somewhere out west. She loves horseback riding."

"Her boyfriend?" Miller shook his head in bewilderment.

Billy clasped her hands in front of her and leaned on the table. "My parents are separated. I told you when they first met in California they had a brief fling and eloped. When Carlos brought her back here she lasted half a season and split. Helen Ramirez would be a great partner for him but he can't see the forest for the trees." It was delivered so matter-of-factly, so emotionless, Miller winced internally.

The waitress returned with two orders of toast, tea and bacon and Miller gladly abandoned the conversation while he enjoyed his food. They finished up and had a fruit dish between them to go with another pot of tea. Miller felt good. Billy was good company in spite of her odd outlook on different things. His comfort level was at a point where he dared another question into her personal life.

"I'm curious," he started casually. "What do you do, I mean- for a living?" She stabbed a piece of pineapple from the fruit bowl with her fork and placed it between her lips, avoiding his eyes. He waited while she slowly chewed and swallowed. "Was I out of line?"

She selected another chunk and shook her head, shrugging. "No-o-o . . ."

"So what, is it a secret? Are you a spy or something?"

"When I work I work as an escort." She plopped the pineapple in her mouth and fastened her eyes boldly on his.

Miller frowned. "An escort . . . you mean like a chaperone?" Billy coughed and sat back laughing. She looked at him to see if he was serious and then she laughed again-louder.

"I obviously asked something funny," he said with annoyance.

"You aren't kidding, are you, Miller?"

"About what? Jesus I asked a simple question . . ."

"I date men professionally." The statement hung between them as he blinked, processing the implication of her pronouncement. "That's what an escort does, Miller."

"You mean you- you are a- you work for a . . .?"

"An agency that provides women for interested men. Yes." She selected a final chunk of pineapple and held it between her lips, pressing the juice out before chewing.

Miller ran entire scenarios through his head, each increasingly shocking in content, as he stared at his companion. He closed his mouth and swallowed, forcing himself to focus rationally. After all she was what, twenty-five? She seemed to come from a successful family, her personality appeared quite normal. What the hell was he thinking? Did he expect her to look like some movie version of a street corner hooker? He pulled at the edge of the cloth and tried arranging his expression to a more relaxed image.

"So uh- do you like that- work?"

She sighed and straightened up, folding her arms over her chest. "It's a good income if that's what you meant."

"No! I mean- yes. Well . . . hell, Billy, I don't know what I mean." He frowned and looked away at the other diners arriving for breakfast.

"So now you have this sudden new opinion of me."

"Opinion? No- no I don't have- I just-"

"You think I'm a professional piece of sex for hire."

"I never said-" He began to plead.

"You don't have to. It's plastered all over your puritan face." She pushed her chair away and headed for the exit.

"Billy! Wait a sec!" Miller fumbled for some change and not finding what he wanted, he tossed a meal chit on the table and chased after her.

Outside the heat and the sun hit him like a club and he shaded his eyes looking around frantically. He caught a glimpse of her bikini and long legs crossing the beach from the restaurant and he hurried down the steps after her. He saw her go up another set of stairs by the pool, heading for the lobby and he tried going faster, plowing through the beach and uncomfortably filling his sandals with warm sand.

On the pool court he paused to allow another scantily clad guest to precede him up the steps, a chivalrous move that afforded him a most distracting view all the way indoors. It gave him a fleeting pang of discomfort as he flashed back on his fantasy at home and how easily his mind altered course. In the shade of the lobby he halted, hunting around for her, sickened at the thought that she might avoid him now because of his perceived opinion of her.

"Senor Hunt, por favor!" The voice called from the front desk and he made a face as he gave up and sauntered over dejectedly.

"Yes?"

"I am Helen Ramirez, Senor Estrada's assistant." She offered a slim hand and Miller accepted, mentally picturing her pursued by the diminutive Carlos Estrada. "Senor Hunt we received a call from our Divers Restaurant about payment for your breakfast."

"I left a chit, what's the problem?"

"It was breakfast for two, senor, your chit is for you only. There is an outstanding amount of one hundred and seventy-five pesos . . . and of course a gratuity." The woman delivered her most apologetic, charming smile as Miller gawked at the amount claimed.

"A hundred and seventy-five? For toast and tea?"

"I believe, senor, you also had torcino-uhm, bacon-and a large fruit bowl."

"But I didn't order any of it, it was-" He stopped and considered how complaining might damage any chance of speaking with Billy again and after a few seconds of sputtering, he gave the woman two hundred pesos and nodded grimly.

"Gracias, senor. Gracias. If I can be of any further assistance during your stay please just ask." Miller watched her stride away back to the office hallway and he nodded to himself, thinking about Billy trying to fix up her father; the woman was indeed attractive.

He gave himself a mental slap as he made his way to the convention center over his rampant thoughts. After hunting around for the room Billy had said she was staying in and having no luck, he wandered back to the lobby and asked for a ride to Casa Faro. Miguel complied with the usual bone-jarring transport, grinning and steering wildly the entire way.