Читать книгу Under The Millionaire's Influence - Catherine Mann - Страница 7

“The way you wield that hot glue gun, it’s no wonder you sleep alone. Men must be hitting the floor in terror.”

Claire’s words rattled around in Starr’s head with a little too much accuracy. Nothing like a sister—even the foster sort—to put you in your place. Starr spread her gift bags, glitter and shells along the kitchen butcher block as she put together the tissue paper. At least the RV crew had decided to sleep in today and give her a couple extra hours to gather her thoughts after seeing David had rocked her balance.

She simply wanted a half hour of peace to pull herself together. Tough to find with such a perfect contrasting view of the three rickety RVs and David’s Lexus right there, reminding her of so many painful moments in her past.

But damn it, she would put a time stamp on that segment of her life because her days of romance with David had expired long ago.

She stared out the open window at the three parked vehicles. Her sister worked by her side decorating a cake, while two part-time help gals took care of the remaining breakfast crowd. The gentle ocean breeze ruffling the lace curtains may have cooled the steamy kitchen, but it did nothing to cool the steam curling inside her after a simple encounter with David.

She might well need more than a half hour.

Starr globbed another dollop of oozing glue on the magenta bag. “I imagine you’ve waited a whole year for that payback line just because I teased you about the way you whacked around a swizzle stick when you were mad at Vic.”

Her sister had fought hard against falling in love, even contemplating single motherhood, until finally the burly veterinarian had won her over.

Earth-mother-type Claire swooped her cake-frosting spatula through the air. “Aha! So you are mad at a man.”

Had she really just jumped into that net because she was busy thinking of her sister’s tangled love life from last year? “Don’t you have a baby to nurse?”

The multicolored sling around Claire’s neck held the infant snuggled securely to her chest. “Little Libby is snoozing away, happy and fully fed.”

No surprise Claire managed yet another addition to her life with ease. Her unflappable, organized sister always had. Even her silky blond hair cooperated to make a smooth look along with the clean lines of her conservative clothes. Claire would never put together mismatched designer-fashion finds Starr liked to scoop up at the Salvation Army. But then Starr couldn’t quite stifle the colors in her wardrobe any more than she could quiet her bright artwork.

Claire gently patted her baby girl’s bottom. Motherhood suited her well. She’d obviously taken on all the traits of their foster mother.

Aunt Libby had been an eccentric—amazing—woman. Having lost her fiancé in the Korean War, she’d never married, instead devoting her life to taking in foster daughters. Countless foster girls had channeled through her antebellum home, money in short supply, love in abundance. Most had either returned to their homes or found new adoptive parents. All but three had left—herself, Claire and Ashley, who’d just graduated from college with her accounting degree. Her graduation being the reason for their flurry of preparations today, to put together a surprise party.

Their shy younger sister would work herself into a tizz if she had time to think of an impending celebration, so they’d opted for low-key festivities as a surprise party. Ashley deserved to have her accomplishments lauded. A whiz kid, she’d been keeping the Beachcombers’ books since the doors had opened two years ago.

Starr brandished her hot glue gun, which of course made her think of all the times she’d seen David’s gun tucked in a shoulder harness. So often she thought of the glamour of his world travel, but the danger sent a sliver of…something, something she didn’t want to consider overlong because it traveled up her spine to sting her eyes. “Okay, so I’m armed and fearsome. Why does that have anything to do with a man?”

Claire brandished her own decorator gun, swirling Congratulations, Ashley across the cake festooned with pink roses. “It’s the way you’re wielding it, big hot globs that don’t allow for anything to slip away.”

So? “And that tells you what?”

“The same thing you’ve always wanted where David Reis is concerned.” Claire set her frosting aside and pinned her sister with her ever-wise older gaze. “You want to glue his wandering feet to the ground.”

“Or glue his arrogant mouth shut.” Now that called for a huge blob.

Claire tapped Starr’s toe with her flip-flop-shod foot. “But then he wouldn’t be as fun to kiss.”

Starr couldn’t help but shiver in agreement at that. “You’re a wicked woman.”

“I’ll plead the fifth.” She winked as she topped off another cabbage rose on the cake. “How long is he in town this time?”

“I didn’t ask.” But yeah, she wanted to know. Not wise.

“You’re kidding.”

“His mother was there at first, and then my, uh—” she swallowed hard “—relatives could have stepped out at any second.”

Claire’s hand fell on her shoulder. Her sister always did try to mother the world. “Speaking of which, why are they here?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Starr eased out from under the comforting hand that could too easily make her go all emotional when she needed to hold herself together more than ever. She had genetics working against her when it came to being overly dramatic. It was one of the things that used to drive David nuts. “I haven’t asked them yet, but I promise I’ll get to it right away. I won’t let them interfere with business.”

“I’m not concerned about that, honey, I’m worried about you.” She gripped Starr’s shoulders again and turned her back around. “I don’t want them to take advantage of you.”

God, the truth still hurt because undoubtedly they wouldn’t have shown up for any other reason. Bracing herself to hold on tight to her emotions, Starr wrapped her arms around her sister in an awkward hug, the snoozing baby between them.

Claire patted her back. “We’re a team, sister. Don’t ever forget it. You don’t have to take them on alone. Say the word and I’ll walk over with you.”

Sniffling in spite of her best intentions, Starr leaned back and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Thanks, but I’m a tough cookie in case you haven’t noticed. I have my killer glue gun, after all.” Bravado in place, she retrieved her gun and her resolve.

And darned if one of those RVs didn’t start moving with the first signs of life from inside, shock absorbers obviously having long ago given up the ghost.

Ghosts.

She could talk about bravery and guns and time stamps all she wanted, but it would take a lot of stamping to eradicate all the ghosts clamoring around in her head.

David slid his arms through his suit jacket on his way out the front door. He needed to report in and sign leave papers to take the time off to make sure all was well with his mother’s health.

And to figure out what the hell was going on with Starr’s family.

Speaking of Starr, the gorgeous spitfire came charging down the restaurant back steps now. He’d planned to have a “discussion” with her parents before she saw them, but apparently he hadn’t dressed fast enough. Now things would be more complicated. Par for the course around Starr since the first day he’d done a double take, realizing his impish neighbor had grown into a bombshell.

He should have had the conversation with her earlier, but the risk had seemed too high given they were both half-dressed. He’d been too aware of her in that whispery thin T-shirt while he’d stood there only halfway finished dressing himself. Too easily memories from a year ago slid through his mind, how she’d sat on the edge of the tub and watched him shave. Not long after, he’d lifted her onto the sink and plunged himself deep inside her, her body already damp and ready for him.

Hell.

Clothes didn’t seem to help much now since the wind played havoc with her gauzy sundress, plastering it to her body as she made her way across the lawn, sandals slapping her determination. He’d always enjoyed all that spunk and fire poured into the way they came together in bed.

They’d never had much luck resisting each other, another reason it was damn wise to meet out here on the lawn in open daylight rather than risk stepping into her carriage house. His leaving had hurt her last year. But she was the one who’d turned down his offer to try again. She could have come with him and he would have given her the world—shown her the world. Made love around the world.

But he had more pressing concerns than sex right now. Evicting Starr’s family topped his list. “Good morning, babe.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, her dress rustling around her legs, her mass of curls a swirl of motion, but then nothing about Starr ever stayed still. Well, except for the stubborn part of her that refused to leave this place.

Her toes curled in her shoes. Just that small motion stirred him because he knew. He affected her.

Then she turned, her eyes a sultry, dusky view that always sucker punched him. “Good morning to you, too. I see you’re ready for work now.”

Starr’s voice washed over him like a surprise wave from the shore. She’d always had that effect on him—the only woman who’d ever had the power to linger in his thoughts.

Except he couldn’t let her derail him now. “Actually, I’m heading over to give your family a wake-up call.”

“That’s where I’m going. They seem to be already moving about.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of wake-up.” He stepped between her and the RVs, determined those people wouldn’t hurt her any further.

“David, you don’t need to worry.” A sad smile strained her face as she swiped her windswept hair from her face. “Your mother and I have already spoken. I’m going to ask them to move off the grass and over to the beach.”

A beach three states over wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him. “That isn’t what I meant. They need to leave.”

“It isn’t your place to make that call.”

“You can’t actually want them to stay.”

“I’ll handle them.” Her chin tipped with a bravado he recognized from the day she’d arrived in the neighborhood, a grubby scrap of a kid with a mop of hair that likely hadn’t seen a brush in a week. “I always do.”

He resisted the urge to gather her in his arms, knowing full well she wouldn’t welcome the gesture. But he wasn’t backing down. “You don’t have to. I’ll take care of this today. Now.”

Her pretty lips went tight. “You don’t have to and in case you missed out on noticing, I didn’t ask for your help.”

She may have been standing there steely strong, but he remembered well the teen who’d cried all over his chest because of how much damage these people could do with even a token visit when they attempted to lure her into their world again.

“David?”

He snapped back to the present. “Yes?”

“Step aside, please.”

“No.” Not a damn chance.

“No? Who the hell do you think you are to tell me no?” Her amazing hair seemed to crackle and lift with the energy overflow, as if her short and willowy body couldn’t contain it all. “I realize you’re embarrassed to have them in your precious prestigious neighborhood, but this is my property and I will take care of the issue.”

He started to explain to her…then stopped. He didn’t want her softening because then he’d do something risky…like touch her.

“We can stand here and debate this all day, but you know me well and once I’ve made up my mind…” David began to say.

“You don’t budge.” She fondled a glue gun tucked halfway in her pocket. “It’s not an endearing quality, you know.”

Perhaps not, but it was one that would keep her safe.

Problem was, this woman was almost as stubborn as him. Almost.

So where did that leave him? Much more of this and he would have to do something like toss her over his shoulder and pass her off to her sister. Claire was the most logical woman he’d ever met. Surely he could garner an ally in her.

Starr stepped closer as if to brush past. His hands itched to touch her, even if only for a fireman’s hold that would no doubt inflame her. God, she was hot when her temper flared.

Her pupils dilated with an awareness that could well send them both dashing back to her place. They wouldn’t even have to get naked. They’d done it half-clothed often enough, coming together in a frenzy, too impatient to wait.

Then had come the slow, leisurely sex…

His breathing went ragged. His whole body tensed, muscles straining to be set loose and take this woman.

His cell phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. Damn.

It could only be work. He didn’t have anything else in his life. He usually lived for the thrill of his job, but right now the thrill of this woman…

Just damn.

Stepping back, he reached into his coat and pulled out his phone to check the number. It could wait until he got into his car.

He shoved his cell back into his coat. “Starr, none of this changes what needs to happen with your family.”

“And none of this changes the fact that my business, my life is not your problem.” Her stubborn jaw jutted.

Without question, he would have to carry her off the lawn and lock her in her house, not exactly legal.

And then it hit him. He had a better way to circle around the situation after all. His connections at work. Find something on her family, because his radar, honed from assignments around the world, blared that they were always up to something, something that would spell bad news for Starr.

He nodded. “Believe whatever you want for why I want them gone, but I’m not done here. I’ll be back to settle this later.” He had to add, “Be careful.”

David thumbed the remote control to his Lexus. The sooner he got to work, the sooner he could put out feelers about the Cimino family.

Just because Starr was hell-bent on her independence didn’t mean he would stand back and let anyone take advantage of her.

Starr plunked her butt down on the back step of the Beachcombers Restaurant and stared at the Cimino family RVs from the quiet retreat of the deep porch. After her confrontation with David, she needed a moment to collect herself before she could handle another face-to-face with anyone—especially the residents of those three crumbling RVs.

The front of the restaurant hummed with activity from brunch traffic transitioning into lunch. Ashley worked the gift shop while studying for her CPA exam. The back section, which they used as a bar, wouldn’t stir to life until suppertime and into the evening when the weekend’s live band cranked to life, so she soaked up the second’s silence to watch the shadows moving behind the gingham curtains covering the RV windows.

Her time to gather herself had come to an end.

The larger RV—the one towed behind a truck as opposed to the other two that were single units—rocked with walking bodies. Her stomach clenched. She’d seen her family only five times in the last seventeen years—this would make number six. And during each visit, they made their displeasure known when she hadn’t fallen into line by returning to the “traveler clan” fold.

Aunt Libby’s stolen silver flatware.

Mrs. Hamilton-Reis’s Dutch tulips smashed by RV wheels.

David’s keyed Mustang.

They knew how to hurt her most, through embarrassment. What would they do this time? Hard won control inched away.

A door swung wide. Ma filled the opening.

Gita had aged. The notion stabbed through Starr with a sympathy she didn’t want and outright feared because it made her vulnerable, seeing those streaks of gray in her hair, the wrinkles lining her mother’s face. Her ma still wore her hair long and curly like Starr, gathered in a ponytail, her jeans and shirt with fringe in constant motion, giving her a hummingbird air as she raced down the steps. “Good morning, sunshine.”

More like good afternoon, but Starr wasn’t going to start off the conversation by being contrary. “What brings all of you to the area?”

“Our baby girl of course,” her father answered, standing on the top step, stretching his arms over his head.

No denying her parentage. She’d inherited her mother’s hair, and her da’s face and slight stature, which gave her a clear view into their home on wheels. Over his shoulders she could see the standard assortment of purses. Not that her ma collected purses in the manner of most fashion-conscious PTA moms. Nah. Gita Cimino collected purses from PTA moms.

Currently visible—a black sequined bag with a cell-phone caddy dangling and an oversize brown leather bag with diapers sticking out and a couple of bottles tucked into pouches along the side. Starr’s heart squeezed as she thought about the poor young mother reporting her bag stolen while she jostled a hungry baby on her hip.

Gita and Frederick Cimino were a match made in hell.

The other two Cimino brothers and their wives had their own scams of choice. The older brother specialized in items bought in bulk on the Internet and sold door to door—magic sweepers, garbage disposals, dishes, vitamins, herbal remedies. You name it, Starr figured he’d scammed it.

The youngest brother specialized in out-of-court settlements—slipping on a sidewalk, breaking a tooth in a restaurant, the list went on. She’d been roped into those many a time as a child because an injured kid evoked major sympathy.

Was it any wonder she’d been so jaded when at ten years old she’d clutched the social worker’s hand and stood in front of Aunt Libby’s looming double doors?

“So hey there, Starr,” her mother called, making her way across the lawn. “No hug for your ma?”

“If you need one, then I’m over here.”

Her mother hesitated mid hummingbird buzz across the lawn and perched her hands on her hips. “Still carrying a grudge, I see.”

Starr stayed silent even though she wanted to speak. Nearly being killed by the woman after being stuck in the camper all day in the heat? Reasonable grudge material so far as she could tell.

While a very, very wise Frederick headed for a walk along the beach, Gita skimmed her way across the sandy lawn and took the Beachcomber steps more slowly. Starr could feel her skin tightening in fear of the hug…. Then Gita dropped to sit beside her, no fake semblance of familial affection, thank goodness, which showed an understanding of Starr’s position. In that moment, Starr forgave her a little—or at least eased up on some of the anger.

She hadn’t even known how much rage roiled inside her until she opened the tap to ease a cup free, almost like working an overfull keg at the bar. Could the rawness of her emotions be blamed on David’s return?

Might as well make conversation, and the obvious questions needed asking after all. Heaven knew she needed to deal with them before David came charging over like a bull on a rampage. “What time did y’all pull in last night?”

“Around 3:00 a.m.”

So she’d been deeply asleep by then, dead tired after closing up the restaurant. Still, she wondered how she’d missed the arrival of the caravan. It was ghostly spooky how they’d sneaked up on her. And David’s return, too. The cosmos was ganging up on her today. “You must have better mufflers these days. I didn’t even hear you.”

“Your uncle Benny picked up a few extra, dirt cheap off the Internet.” She stroked a seashell-encrusted stepping stone at the base of the stairs and by the covetous gleam in Gita’s eyes, Starr knew where to look if it turned up missing tomorrow.

“I should have guessed. He’s always got his eye out for those bulk bargains.” When she’d been around nine, she’d helped him hawk encyclopedias. No matter to Benny that they were a decade out of date.

“Of course you didn’t guess. You’re getting rusty since you’ve been away from the family for so long.” Gita shook her head and tutted, loosening a gray curl from the band. “It’s to be expected since you’re not with the family anymore.”

Implied guilt? She refused to accept it.

So why couldn’t she find her backbone? Time to rectify that now, as she’d told David she would. Not because she saw David’s mother peering around her heavy brocade curtains, but because Starr wanted to regain control of her business, of her life before she weakened and leaned on David again.

“Ma, you’ll need to tell the family to move the caravan over to the beach, so it’s not visible from the road.”

“Ah, we’re bad for business parking in the lot like that.” She nodded with surprising understanding and not a sign of censure. “Gives off the air of vagrants.”

She hadn’t expected it to be this easy or for her mother to be this blunt—or honest. “I don’t mean to be insulting.” She fished in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I’ve typed up a list of some beautiful waterside RV parks in the area that will accommodate your needs perfectly.”

Her fist clenched around the paper while she waited—prayed—that her mother would take the list and hit the road.

“Baby, I’m not insulted. I understand about doing whatever it takes to bring in the buck. We’ll get off your lawn and onto the beach over there. No worries or need to waste money on one of those parks. You’ve got a great view there and we’ll situate ourselves just right, now that we know the angle you want us to work. We’ll have vacationers stamped all over us by sundown.”

“Hey, Ma, wait—”

“Shhh. Just listen.” Gita slung her arm around Starr’s shoulders and pulled her in for that unwanted hug. “We can play roles well. We’ll even beef up business for your little artsy gift shop as a personal favor. You’ll see.”

Starr stiffened even as her arm automatically slid around Ma’s waist out of habit. Already she was falling back into old habits even though she’d told David not a half hour ago that she had a spine of steel. David. Why did all of her thoughts have to cycle back around to him?

This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wanted them out of sight. Actually, she wanted them gone before their con games and get-rich schemes caused trouble in town. Aside from the fact that she couldn’t condone their crimes, she also couldn’t bear these reminders of the gypsy child she’d been. A member of a traveler clan not worthy of David. How had the conversation shifted from having them out of sight to them poking their sticky fingers into her business?

The metaphorical beer keg exploded and she didn’t have a clue how to stop the spewing mess of her emotions.