Читать книгу Mediterranean Men & Marriage: The Italian's Forgotten Baby / The Sicilian's Bride / Hired: The Italian's Bride - Raye Morgan, Carol Grace - Страница 15

“OH, MY GOSH!” Shayna said, alarmed as she looked at her watch. “I hadn’t realized it was so late.”

“That’s the problem,” Marco agreed. “I don’t know what time he goes to bed, but we still have to find a place that sells red licorice.”

“Uh-oh.” It dawned on her that this was serious. She could tell by the look in his dark eyes that he was going to find a way to keep his promise no matter what it took. “The little general store in town sells it, but they are probably closed by now.” She frowned, pursing her lips.

“What are you doing?” he asked impatiently.

She held up a hand. “I’m trying to think if there is any other place where we could buy the licorice.”

“There must be another store. A general store, a grocery, a candy store.”

“Not with that sort of red licorice.” She shook her head, genuinely worried now. “We can stop by Howe’s Market on the coast, but I doubt it.”

“Well, let’s go. If we hurry, maybe we can catch the store at the marina before they close.”

She was glad he’d remembered his commitment to the boy. Not many men she’d dated would have done it. Or, once they’d realized it was going to be an imposition to get the candy, they would have decided the promise could wait until the next day. No problem. Just a little boy who would learn how easy it was for adults to lie to him.

Luckily, Marco didn’t seem to be one of that type. A woman always liked to see a man keep his word. It was pretty important to the stability of a relationship.

Relationship! Who was she trying to kid? She had no real relationship with Marco and never would. How could she let herself get this close to a man who had been hired to spy on her by her father?

They raced back over a darkened road. Howe’s Market along the coast was already closed. Marco was kicking himself for having forgotten until so late. When he thought of Eddie with his bright brown eyes looking at him so earnestly, sure that he would do what he’d promised, it made him sick to think he might disappoint him. Poor little guy. His father was missing and his mother was suddenly gone all the time. He thought of how she was working so hard for her kids and he felt even worse. How could he have forgotten such a simple thing?

A scene flashed into his mind, a moment in his own childhood. His father had been a busy man, director of a huge international shipping enterprise and after his parents had divorced, he’d become more and more remote. To Marco, he’d been a distant sort of god to be worshiped from afar—hardly a warm, fatherly figure. As a boy, he’d yearned to be closer to him, to get some of his attention. There had been so many lonely days when promises made were broken.

There had been the time, when he was about ten, that his father had sworn he was going to make up for all those missed dates. He would take Marco overnight to attend a sailing competition being held off the Isle of Capri. He could still remember the feeling in the pit of his stomach as he leaned on the balcony railing, staring out into the darkness, waiting to see the headlights of his father’s car coming up the long driveway. They never came. He found out later that his father had gone without him, had forgotten all about taking him, in fact. He’d laughed. He’d pretended it was no big deal. But that was the day his trust in fathers died.

But what did he care, really? He barely knew this little boy. He wasn’t the boy’s father. He wasn’t the boy’s anything. They had no real tie to each other. No, it was something more than that. There was a certain empathy he felt. The boy had lost his father. He himself had lost a father, even if only emotionally. But he knew how much that loss had hurt, how it devastated his life for a time.

They arrived at the little town, turned at the marina and swung around the corner. There stood the general store, silent and closed, with only one neon sign flashing, an advertisement for beer.

Marco jumped off the scooter and bounded to the front door. “Hello,” he called, pounding on the door. “Anyone in there?”

No one responded and he went quickly to the back, trying the same thing. Nothing. He came back to where Shayna sat.

“Quick, we need the store keeper’s phone number,” he said.

Shayna gaped at him. “Sorry, that’s not something I keep on me for emergency grocery requests.”

“Well, you should,” he said distractedly. Searching the signs on the front of the store, he found a phone number and decided to try it. The ring sounded over and over again in his ears. No one answered. He swore softly.

He stared at the store, set his shoulders, and then he turned and walked back to Shayna, who was still on the Vespa. He looked troubled. Raking his hair with his fingers, he grimaced.

“Okay, I’m going to have to break in.”

She felt as though she’d been hit by lightning, flattened to the pavement. “You’re kidding,” she gasped.

He shook his head, his eyes cold as ice. “No. I have to get that licorice. I don’t see any other way.” He began rummaging in the saddlebag.

“You’re crazy,” she said, hardly able to process what he was planning to do. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Maybe.” He found an oily rag and began to wind it around his hand and then grinned at her, wiggling his eyebrows. “But what if I’m the lunatic you’re looking for?”

He was enjoying this. She couldn’t believe it.

“I don’t want a lunatic,” she snapped. “I want someone with a cool, clear mind and common sense.” “No.” He shook his head. “That won’t help us. We’re thinking outside of the box here.” He put his hand up to the light from the scooter, testing how well the cloth had wrapped. “Lunatics are better for that.”

He was really planning to break into the general store. She couldn’t fully process that. She grabbed his arm. “Marco, you can’t do this. Don’t you see? You’ll get arrested.”

He barely looked at her. “Think so?”

“You’ll get thrown in jail.”

His grin was fleeting this time. “Will you bring me a file in a cake?”

“No.”

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Snob. What have you got against jailbirds?”

She threw her hands down, exasperated with him. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that they tend to be crooks!”

He thought for a moment, then heaved a heavy sigh. “Eddie’s bedtime must be fast approaching, if it’s not already come and gone.” He looked back at her. “I can’t help it, Shayna. I’ve got to get him that licorice.”

She jumped off the scooter and came to him, putting a hand on his arm, trying to think of ways to soothe his conscience. “I know but, there’s got to be another way. Maybe if we just thought this through…”

He held his rag-covered fist up for her to admire, then looked into her eyes. “Are you with me?”

“No,” she moaned. “You can’t do this.”

He shook his head. “Oh, but I can.” His jaw was set. “If you can’t bring yourself to do a little burgling for a good cause, stay here.”

He turned and started toward the window set just above a drink cooler where he planned to break in. She gave a cry of exasperation and ran after him.

“Stop!” she ordered firmly. “Don’t you dare break that window. You’ll probably slash an artery or something.”

“I’ll be careful,” he said without looking back at her.

“Stop, Marco. I mean it.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her, looking up into his face and feeling a little wild about it. “I’ll help you, but not like this.”

His frown was suspicious. “How, then?”

She almost had to laugh at his resistance. He looked like a boy threatened with an extra school day.

“Believe it or not, I’ve got a trick or two of my own up my sleeve,” she told him. “Give me a minute to see if this works.”

Running back to the scooter, she pulled her purse out of the saddlebag and dug for a credit card, then went toward the front door of the store. A car went past slowly and she paused in the shadows, trying not to look guilty and not succeeding very well. But the car didn’t stop. Meanwhile, Marco was unimpressed.

“The old credit card in the door lock trick?” he scoffed. “That went out with high button shoes. Modern locks are made to resist that one.”

She waved the card at him. “Modern locks, sure. But you forget. We’re on island time now. ‘Modern’ is a concept, not a reality here.”

He shrugged. “Even if you get the main lock, surely there will be bolts inside.”

“Marco, the thing you don’t understand,” she said as she set up to try her idea, “is that there is virtually no crime on Ranai. So no one takes all those extra precautions you need to take in the city. We just don’t need to.”

She tried the credit card against the edge of the door, then used it to pry a little.

He grunted, looking over her shoulder with growing interest. “So where did you learn how to do this, anyway?”

She gave him an arch smile. “I went to boarding school. We always needed someone to let in the girls who got back late at night.” She set the card just right and wiggled it a little. There was a click and the door swung open. She beamed at him. “Voilà,” she said with a flourish.

He grinned his admiration for her lock-picking abilities, then walked right past her into the store. “Good work,” he said shortly, seeming to forget all his dire warnings. “Now let’s find that licorice.”

Luckily there was a big box of the whips right by the cash register. Marco picked three, looked at the price, pulled coins out of his pocket and slapped them down on the counter.

“There we go,” he said, then hesitated. “I’d better write the store owner a note. Got a pen?” He grinned. “Or better yet, got a lipstick on you?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you think I am, some kind of gun moll?”

“That was the part you were playacting last night, wasn’t it?”

She held up a finger. “Note the operative word—playacting.”

“Okay. I guess I’m going to have to steal a pen, as well.”

“Wait a minute,” she said, caught by the ridiculousness of it all. “You’re going to steal a pen so you can write the man you’re stealing from a note? Don’t you think that’s overdoing it a bit?”

He frowned, thinking it over. “It does seem a bit convoluted, doesn’t it?”

“Well, never mind. Here’s a pen.” She produced it out of her purse, along with a tiny notepad of violetcolored paper. “But hurry. We really don’t want anyone finding us here.”

He hurried. The note was apologetic. He even signed his name. In minutes they were back on the scooter, racing toward home and Eddie next door.

The house looked quiet, but lights were on. Shayna and Marco approached the front door with trepidation. Jilly pulled it open right after their knock.

“Hi, Mr. Marco,” she said brightly.

“Hi, Jilly.” He shifted his weight, feeling awkward. “Is Eddie home?”

Jilly looked surprised. “He went to bed already.”

“Oh.” More shifting of weight. Shayna gave him a little shove from behind and he grunted. “I…uh…I brought him the licorice I promised.”

“Oh. Great.” She smiled. “But he already brushed his teeth.”

Shayna smiled at her. “Wow, Jilly, you’re such a good babysitter. You take good care of the little ones. You’ve already got them all to bed and everything. Your mom is lucky.”

Jilly looked pleased. “I’m trying to help her.”

A movement caught Shayna’s eye, and there was Eddie peeking around the corner. She poked Marco again and gestured in Eddie’s direction with her head.

“Eddie!” Jilly cried in dismay.

“Oh, Jilly,” Shayna said quickly. “I know it’s not fair to put you in this position, but Marco promised him red licorice and he promised he would bring it tonight. Would it be okay if he just gave him the candy and Eddie could save it for tomorrow?”

Jilly looked from Eddie, to Shayna, to Marco and back to Eddie. She shrugged. “Sure,” she said sunnily. “Okay, Eddie, come on out.”

Marco grinned at him and he came out, hesitated a moment, then ran to Marco, who enveloped him in a big bear hug.

“Hi, Eddie,” he said, holding the little boy close. “I told you I’d bring you some red licorice, didn’t I? Here it is. You’d better not eat it until tomorrow, okay?”

He nodded, taking the long red whips, his dark eyes shining.

“Okay, kiddo. See you tomorrow. You be good for Jilly, okay?”

Eddie nodded again, and Shayna and Marco gave Jilly a wave and, in Marco’s case, a wink, and they left the little house.

“You know, it really feels good to do the right thing, doesn’t it?” Marco said, his chest puffed out as they made their way back to the scooter.

“Absolutely,” she responded, hiding her grin.

She drove him back toward his hotel. As they turned the corner toward the two-story building, she jammed on the brakes.

“Hey,” he cried.

“Look at that,” she said, pointing toward the parking lot.

“Uh-oh.” He looked. Two black-and-white cars were parked along the side, their lights swirling. “Looks like the cops are here.”

“Oh, goodness,” Shayna agreed. “Both cars. This must be something serious.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Like, breaking into the general store, maybe?”

She gasped. “Oh, gosh.” She put a hand to her mouth and her eyes got very wide. “Do you think…?”

He nodded. “Yup.” He groaned. “I probably shouldn’t have signed that note.”

She turned and stared at him. “What shall we do?”

He shrugged. “I could walk in and give myself up.”

“Or?”

“Or go home with you and wait until tomorrow.”

“They might check my place.”

“You think so?”

She thought it over. “Not tonight,” she said, shaking her head. “Their investigations tend to last a long, long time, because they get to do so few of them. So they savor the moment, so to speak. I bet they won’t come out until tomorrow.”

“Well, then…”

“Oh, why not just go on in there and tell them what happened? Get it over with. Sheriff Joe’s a good guy. I could explain to him. I’m sure he’d understand.”

Marco considered that for a moment, his head to the side and his eyes narrowed. “If you were the one on the hot seat, I have no doubt he’d listen to reason. Something tells me he won’t be so accommodating for me.”

“No, Joe’s okay, really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know this?”

She shrugged. “Joe’s been trying to date me since I got to the island, and…”

“And you’ve turned him down?”

“Yes.”

He threw up his hands. “There you go. Now we’ve added jealousy to the mix. I’m out of here.”

“Marco…”

“Let’s go. I can’t risk being tied up in jail for too long. I’m going sailing early with Gigi. I got things I want to get done tomorrow.”

She frowned. “Maybe you’d better not go on that.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I have to go. This isn’t just for fun, Shayna. I’ve got something I really need to accomplish.”

She looked at him, perplexed and not sure what he was talking about. Something to do with re-creating his plans, she supposed. “Well, I didn’t sign that note, but they will probably find out we’re connected at some point and be pounding on my door in the morning.”

He nodded. “And in the meantime, we might as well go there and get some sleep.”

She sighed. “I suppose so. Everyone is still at the luau. I’m surprised the cops weren’t there, too.”

“So we should have this side of the island to ourselves,” he said lightly. “We’ll have a sleepover.”

“You,” she said pointedly, “can sleep on the couch.”

He grinned and put his hand over his heart. “You wouldn’t be so cold to a lonely soul about to be sent off to jail.”

“I would,” she countered. “And gladly.”

She turned the scooter toward her home, and they were off.

They were hungry. It had been a long day filled with strange experiences and they needed a little food, a little drink, to help them unwind. Shayna made a shrimp salad and garlic toast and then poured golden liquid into two wine glasses—Chardonnay for Marco, sparkling cider for herself. They ate on the lanai with a candle as their only light until the moon came out. They could hear the surf in the distance. The air was cool and fresh and full of promise. The scent of plumerias wafted in the air.

They sat without speaking for a few minutes, then Marco turned and looked at her. “You know what we didn’t remember to do?”

She turned and smiled at him, enjoying the slight lilt to his language. “What’s that?”

“Dance.” He looked at her with a strange, sensual longing in his eyes. “I want to dance with you.”

Her heart beat quickened. There was something in that look of his…She shivered. Don’t do it, Shayna, her better counsel warned. If you do it, you know very well what might happen.

She shouldn’t do it. She should be stern and cool and keep control of the situation. She took a deep breath and prepared to tell him so.

“Hold on, I’ll turn on some music” came out of her mouth instead but she didn’t regret it.

Moments later, she was in his arms and they were swaying to soft sounds and dancing across the lanai in the moonlight, floating on blissfulness. And it was even better than she’d hoped it would be. There was something so lovely about being held close by a large, strong man that you were crazy about, and yet not in the throes of passion, but in the structure of music. So near and yet so far. Temptation balanced with form.

“How did you get to be such a good dancer?” she asked him dreamily.

“I was a child prodigy,” he teased, then relented. “Actually, I had a sister who needed someone to practice with. And I found I liked it.”

“You’re a natural,” she said with a sigh, thinking of her own brother. He would have preferred a dirt sandwich to a day of dancing. Her smile was bittersweet. It was at odd times like this that she missed him most.

She sighed and leaned a little closer against his shoulder. He buried his face in her hair, taking in her scent.

“Where did you come from, Shayna?” he asked her softly. “What are you doing here on this island?”

She sighed, closing her eyes. “Why do you want to know?” she murmured.

“At first, looking at you, I thought you were a naturalborn child of the tropics. You seemed to be part of the exotic beauty of the place.” He dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “But now that I know you better, I know that’s a posture of sorts. You’re no more a native than I am.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said groggily in a pathetic challenge.

“You’re a transplant. But where from? What for? What made you come hide away on this island?”

Her head snapped around at the phrase hide away. He’d finally gotten her goat and she pulled back to give herself a little space from him.

“What are you talking about?” she said crossly. “What makes you think I’m hiding something?”

“We’re all hiding, Shayna.” They were barely swaying together now, not really dancing, and he had grown philosophical on her, a trend she wasn’t sure she liked.

“You know, I think if you want to be analytical about all this, I’m probably hiding things, too. I’ve been thinking about my memory loss and what could have caused it. I probably let myself go those two weeks while I was originally here. I’ll bet I became free and natural in ways I hadn’t done in years. Maybe like I’d never been before. And perhaps my psyche couldn’t take it. Maybe my more rigid self had to blot it out. Maybe I just had to come back to it slowly and digest it and assimilate it with the rest of me.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then rolled her eyes as she pulled herself out of his embrace.

“Oh, brother,” she said, turning toward the table. “I think I need another glass of sparkling cider.”

He followed her and took over filling both their glasses with the shiny golden liquid. Each caught the moonlight and seemed to glow with its own light.

“To islands,” he said, raising his glass for a toast.

“To islands,” she echoed. “And the people who hide away on them.”

He laughed, enjoying her again, and she bent forward to kiss his lips.

It was a simple gesture, and she’d meant it to be a quick salute, an expression of light affection, but once her lips touched his, a fire that had been smoldering seemed to burst into flames. She meant to pull away, to back off, and go back to her drink. Somehow the kiss lingered and then his hand came up, cupping the back of her head and holding her there. Her mouth softened, opening to his tongue, and her arms came up and circled his neck.

“Oh,” she gasped, coming up for air, but he didn’t give her a chance to retreat. He kissed her again, and again, and their kisses became deeper and more urgent. Now her fingers were digging into his hair and his hands were sliding up under her shirt, leaving a trail of fire as they found her breasts. Her nipples were erect and so sensitive that she cried out when he touched them. Her hips began to press against his as she melted into his body. The fog of passion clouded their minds and smoothed the way toward an appetite for love. They both knew it. But the sensation was so intoxicating, they didn’t want it to stop.

And then Shayna knocked over her glass of cider.

She pulled away, panting, and stared at the spilled liquid. Then she looked up at Marco. “Wow, that was close,” she said, and he laughed. Giving him a look, she went to the kitchen to get a cleaning rag. He watched her with regret, but he knew better than to try to resume the activity.

Meanwhile, he poured her a fresh glass of cider.

“Shayna, you’ve been quite wonderful to me,” he said. “You didn’t have to be so accommodating this second time around. As I understand it, the first time ended in acrimony. So I want you to know I appreciate the way you’ve tried to help me this time.”

She caught her breath and glanced away, feeling a little guilty. After all, she had her motives that he knew nothing about. It wasn’t as though she’d done it all out of the goodness of her heart.

“Why not?” she said lightly. “We’d been pretty friendly the first time, for the most part.”

He nodded, looking at her searchingly. “We did seem to spend a lot of time together, you and I.”

She nodded. “We did.”

He gazed at her for a long moment, then reached out and took a handful of her hair, letting his fingers sift through the shiny strands. “We did some kissing.”

She drew in her breath. Where was he going with this? “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes we did.”

“And?”

She blinked at him. “And what?”

His shrug managed to be incredibly sensual, but she supposed that was the Italian in him.