Her Latin Lover (Contemporary Romance) by Katheryn Lane

plants, they came down into the valley. Mary could feel the humidity rising. Her back began to feel damp against the leather of the car seat. She tried to breathe in some fresh air through the window, but all she got was a mouthful of dust and car fumes. She could just see Corazon in the distance when they spotted a battered old saloon car by the side of the road directly in front of them.
    “It’s Jorge’s car. Isabella’s brother-in-law’s,” Paulo said and he pulled up directly alongside it. As soon as the jeep came to a halt, everyone got out and began to inspect the abandoned car. It didn’t take much to see what the problem was. One of the front tyres was punctured making the car impossible to drive. The men muttered together amongst themselves while Mary stretched her legs. After a few minutes Paulo walked over to her and explained that Isabella and her brother-in-law had probably walked or hitched a lift back to Corazon to fetch one of the local mechanics to help them with the car. He felt certain that if they drove into the town they would find them there.
    Paulo called out to Javier and Carlos, and everyone got back into the jeep. Paulo continued to drive quickly and soon they were within sight of the main town square. However, instead of the drab facades of the hotel, courthouse and bar, the place had been transformed into a riot of colour and decorations. Across every street lamp there where paper banners in all the colours of the rainbow and down every building front there were hundreds, if not thousands, of rows of lights. However, the most spectacular of all was the church. Normally adorned with a few lights, it now had millions of coloured streamers fluttering across it, as well as huge displays of flowers at the front. Down the steps there were rows upon rows of candles waiting to be lit. Also, all over the square, men and women were setting up large wooden tables on which they were putting out items for sale, everything from local handicrafts to food and wine.
    “It’s the feast day of the Saint,” Paulo explained as they walked across the square. “Everyone is getting ready for the fiesta tonight. Jorge and Isabella will have problems finding a mechanic who is free to help them. When it’s fiesta time, everything else stops.”
    “Where do you think they are?” Mary asked.
    “They will have gone to Jorge’s cousin’s house. It’s just around the corner. Follow me.”
    They stepped into a narrow side street. Coloured banners also streamed down the sides of the houses here, though not in the same quantity as they did in the main square. After they had passed a couple of houses, Paulo rang the bell next to a brightly painted blue door. Within seconds it was answered by a large, bald man wearing a stained vest and loose, grey trousers. He greeted Paulo warmly, but when Paulo stepped aside and tried to introduce Mary, the man stepped back into the doorway. “Dios mio!” he muttered under his breath. His eyes were wide open in horror. Paulo talked to him rapidly in Spanish. After a few minutes the man gestured for them all to come inside and invited Paulo and Mary to sit down on a battered sofa in front of a huge TV on which a football game was being shown. Javier and Carlos lurked in the doorway.
    Mary didn’t understand a word that they were saying, but from the way that Paulo seemed to sit back and relax, it appeared that Isabella and Jorge were in no danger. However, their host kept on staring at Mary as if she were some type of alien creature. It was the same reaction that Isabella had had when she first met her and Mary guessed that it was something to do with her remarkable resemblance to the woman in the painting in Paulo’s hacienda. Paulo had been so busy talking to her about Isabella on their way there and Mary felt so guilty about what might have happened to Isabella that she hadn’t yet asked Paulo about that painting.
    After they drank a cup of thick, dark coffee, Paulo stood