Recover. Now.
Experience kicked in, rescuing her from total embarrassment. By the time the next second elapsed, she’d regained control of her emotions and expression. Her protective uninterested stance was firmly set. Even better was the profound sense of gratification. At long last, her moment to resist and show indifference had come. And boy, was she ready for this…for him. With her wits gathered about her, Hunter turned to face the man who had invaded her dreams and disrupted her well-guarded peace.
She realized her mistake too late. Twelve inches separated them. At this distance, his body heat and scent invaded her senses without touching or crossing her boundary lines. Under thick dark eyebrows, his gleaming blue eye drilled into her soul—a sensation his black leather eye patch seemed to enhance. Yet, his friendly smile belied the intensity of his gaze.
Her readiness faltered. He was doing it again. His mixed messages unbalanced her, made her question her decisions. And now, an irrational desire to slap the smile away, scratch it out if possible, rose from her chest. Her hand itched to fly, make contact, and punish his handsome features for their insolent… What?
Hateful man. He gives me no excuse to lash out.
“Coincidence?” A touch of snark slipped out.
Except Joe didn’t seem to notice. He walked around her cart, studying each and every single item inside as if she hadn’t said a word.
“So, where have you been hiding?” He shifted his bright grin back to her.
“Me?” Oops, her volley came out wild and loud. Joe tilted his head with obvious curiosity. Hunter chewed the inside of her cheek, silencing another indiscreet outburst. He could never know how much she’d waited for him to appear in her life again.
Exhaling a short, snippy sigh, she pushed her cart forward. “I’m finished in this aisle.”
“Beg your pardon.” Extending a hand, he moved out of her way. His happy demeanor didn’t waver.
Straightening her posture, Hunter walked past him, faking disinterest, although her peripheral vision didn’t miss a thing. Did she catch a flash of triumph in his expression?
Hateful, hateful man.
“What brings you to Publix?” Hunter smiled—perfect modulation, not too cold and not too warm. Casual.
“I need milk. Then, I saw you roaming around the veggies, and I decided to chase you and say hi.”
Joe spoke behind her, but his voice had grown faint. She glanced over her shoulder. He stood where she’d left him.
“Well, I have to go.” He held up a palm. “Have a good day, Hunter.”
He didn’t wait for her response. He left the cereal aisle and disappeared from view. Somewhat deflated, Hunter finished her shopping. She didn’t bump into Joe again.
Thursday morning, Hunter arrived at Costa del Sol before Soledad opened the store. By the time Yanira’s BMW came to a screeching halt and Soledad jumped out the passenger side, Hunter’s toes had gone numb from pacing the hard sidewalk in her ever-present platform shoes.
“You’re way early, chica.” Soledad fumbled with the key and lock. The dead bolt turned with a soft click, and she pushed the door inward, turning to face Hunter. “How long have you been waiting for me?” She arched an eyebrow.
Hunter shrugged. “Maybe ten minutes?”
Soledad stood with her back to the door, opening the way for Hunter. “Get your comfy shoes on while I get things started.”
“My toes are gone.” Hunter dropped on the nearest chair. “I’m getting that weird sensation, nothing but pins and needles.” She massaged her toes as she pulled her sandals out of her shoulder bag. “Ah, yes… Relief.”
“La moda no incomoda,” Soledad giggled
“You sound like Mamá Giordano. That’s the standard remark of a fashion slave.”
“What’d you do yesterday? How was work?”
“Fine.” Hunter scrunched her lips. Something was up.
“Anything new and exciting?” Soledad continued as she tinkered with the register. Her tone was casual—too casual for Hunter’s comfort.
“Give me two minutes, and I’ll help you,” Hunter volleyed back as she slipped her sandals on. She could evade just as well as her friend.
“Okay.” Soledad beamed. “I have to put together a special order for Brenda.”
Hunter stiffened at the name, yet she maintained a blank expression, biding her time. Soledad would elaborate soon enough.
“Brenda is hosting a wedding shower on Saturday.” Soledad’s upper body disappeared behind the display case. Opening the sliding door, she pulled out lavender, rose, and multicolored sachets, making a neat pile on top of the counter. “Tomorrow is gonna be a super-hectic day for her, so she’s picking up the gift today.”
Hunter sighed. This was all normal and part of the business. When would she learn how to relax? The slightest thing threw her into a suspicious tizzy. Still, she moved the lever from DEFCON 1 to 3—some habits were difficult to change.
“What can I do?”
Soledad’s jerked her head toward the stockroom. “I have a large basket with a handle in the back. Can you get it for me?” Looking bewildered, she studied the pile of sachets. “I don’t know if I have enough plastic for all this stuff. Ya know what I mean? Large clear bags to wrap—”
“I know.” Hunter held up a hand. “If you’re out, I can run over to the arts and crafts store for you.”
“Let’s gather the items first, then we can decide.”
“Be right back,” Hunter said, heading for the back room. “Need anything else?”
“Actually, yes. I set aside a box of French herbal soaps. Would you bring those too?”
“Yep.”
Way in the back of the room, Hunter scanned and rifled through the shelves. She’d just found the basket when a muted conversation coming from the shop reached her. Maybe Brenda had come early. Picking up the pace, she dumped the soaps in the basket and stepped out.
“I didn’t find—”
Her brain got sidetracked. Her legs wobbled. Joe Reid, in all his droolworthy masculine glory, was speaking with Soledad in a hushed voice. With his back turned to the storeroom, she allowed herself a moment to enjoy his lean, V-shaped torso, his shoulders, buttocks, and long legs encased in a white T-shirt and jeans.
“The plastic,” Hunter finished in a whisper.
Joe and Soledad stopped talking. Hunter stood, hands full, feeling utterly stupid and out of place, as if she’d interrupted something important.
“Good morning,” Joe said pleasantly. “We meet again. How nice.”
“Oh? Do tell.” A tiny smirk appeared on Soledad’s face. “I’ll take that.” She lifted the basket from Hunter’s hands.
“I bumped into Hunter at the supermarket on Tuesday. We exchanged a few words. I wish I’d had more time.” Joe winked.
Blood rushed to her face. “I, ah… You’re out of plastic, Sole. I’ll go get some. Extra-large bags, right?”
“You’re leaving me?” Crossing his hands over his heart, Joe made a dramatic face. “Where do you have to go? I’ll give you a ride.”
“I appreciate it.” Hunter pursed her lips. “But it’s totally unnecessary. The store is down the block. I enjoy walking.”
“Then I’ll keep you company.”
“No, really. I’m fine.”
He moved closer to her. “I insist.”
Seeking an escape from his disarming nearness, Hunter glanced from one side of the room to the other. She met up with Soledad’s obvious disapproval and gave up.
“All right.” She slung her purse over her shoulder. “If you don’t have other pressing matters—”
“I do not.” Striding to the front door, he held it open. “After you.”
Joe took the outside edge of the sidewalk as they strolled in silence. To her bewildering frustration he didn’t touch her in any way, not even an accidental brush of his fingers.
Several minutes later, they arrived at the arts and crafts storefront. The automatic door slid open,
and he stopped at the threshold. “Okay, I’m not gonna beat around the bush. Why don’t you like me?”
Her mouth fell open. “I… I don’t dislike you. W-why do you say that?” If he only knew… Seldom a night went by that she didn’t think or dream about him.
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m slowing you down.” He gestured to enter the store.
“Wait.” Impulsively, she grabbed his forearm. It felt like a beam of hot steel in her palm. She let go. “I don’t know you, is all.” She shrugged. “Honest.”
“That’s an easy fix.” A devilish grin curved on his face. Every instinct in her went on alert. “Give me a chance. Go out with me.”
There it was. Nice and polite, he’d led her to this point. She eyed him, examining his bland expression. Hunter took pride in her ability to read people, seeing malice and ulterior motives on the spot. She couldn’t find any in Joe. Either he was innocent or a cover-up master.
“I have a busy schedule.” She entered the store and began scanning aisle signs.
“Don’t you have a day off? You must have dinner sometime,” he argued behind her. “You do eat, right?”
She chuckled. “Yes.”
“Excellent. What are we looking for?” He stood next to her, scratching his forehead. He seemed confused by the overwhelming amounts of decorative labels, assorted ribbons, wrapping paper, and gift items on the shelves.
“Clear plastic bags. The kind used in gift baskets and such.”
Joe cringed. “Women’s territory. Don’t mean to sound sexist. Sorry.”
Hunter laughed openly. “I know what you mean.”
She gave him a side glance. Joe was good. He didn’t pressure her, and that defused her wariness. The problem was that in spite of her usual misgivings, she desired this date. For the first time in many years, she was open to enjoying masculine company. His company. To have dinner with a self-assured man, not a simpering or needy fool who used the conquest of Hunter Giordano to cover his inadequacies. She wanted a pleasant night for a change, without the machinations and power struggles of the past.
“Is this it?” He showed her the right package.
“Yes, sir. And we’re out of here.”
They moved through the line quickly, then walked back in silence. Except Hunter was ready to burst at the seams. They were almost at Costa del Sol, and he still hadn’t asked when her day off was.
What’s he waiting for?
Using his leather boot, he propped the door open for her. “Do you work tonight?”
Hunter’s breath halted. She nodded.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll stop by the bar. If that’s all right.”
Her throat constricted. He was going to make her wait until tonight to ask her out. That is, if he showed up at all. Damn him.
“But your mom’s basket isn’t quite ready yet. Didn’t you come to pick it up?”
“No. That’s not why I came. Mom will pick it up later. Have a good day, Hunter.”
Joe stepped away from the threshold. The door swung gently shut, a solid divider between them. Disappointed and furious, she peered through the shop’s display window as Joe jogged across the street, climbed into his truck, and drove away.
“What’s going on?” Soledad asked.
The ache in Hunter’s throat intensified. “Nothing.”
“Where’s Joe?”
Hunter walked away from the window. “He left.”
“Why?” Soledad paused fussing with the basket. “Where did he go? Is he coming back?”
“Hey, I am not his keeper. Here’s the plastic wrap.” She dropped the package on Soledad’s work area on her way to the toilet, a good place to hide her raging confusion.
The agitated crowd waiting for drinks in front of the bar had grown to three deep. Kelly and Pete hustled as quickly as their hands would allow, dispatching beverage orders. Hunter, meanwhile, took her sweet time, sashaying with disinterest from one customer to another at a snail’s pace. If she normally poured a foamless pint of draft in five minutes, today she did it in ten.
“Hey lady, are you gonna take care of me, or what?” an irate man barked.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring him.
“I’ve been waiting for hours.” Another pounded the counter. “Can’t you do something, Pete? Get someone who works.”
Pete, usually a placid man, frowned and hitched a shoulder—a clear sign to hurry it up. Hunter pretended not to see him.
“What the hell, Hunter?” Kelly, a fist on her hip, hissed. “If you’re not well, go home. Then we’ll have a good excuse for our customers.”
Kelly’s fury was an awakening slap across her face. Hunter had wallowed in her miserable funk and forgotten how it would affect business. “You’re right to be angry.” She tightened her ponytail. “Sorry.”
“You sure?” Kelly grabbed her arm. “Wanna talk?”
“Later. After I take care of the mob.”
“Good.”
Hunter went in one direction, and Kelly took the right corner. Pete manned the center. Fifteen minutes later, the complaints had subsided and the bar had cleared to the few folks sitting on stools.
“That’s what I call teamwork.” Pete wiped his hands on his apron, a satisfied smile on his face. “I’ll go check the floor for empties. Any food orders so far?”
“Not a one. It’s too late for dinner. They all came to drink.” Kelly pointed her thumb at the crowd. “Why don’t you check the kitchen, hon, and I’ll pick up?”
“All right. Call me if you need me.” An agile man, Pete ducked under the bar flap on his way to the kitchen.
Hunter filled a tall glass of club soda. Her throat was so dry, she emptied it halfway in three gulps. She took a breath, downed the rest, then refilled the glass. Dejection and anxiety had her in knots. She eyed the clock with murderous intent. Pity she couldn’t throw a pitcher, a glass, or a rock at it.
The infuriating man was taking his sweet time. She rapped the countertop with her knuckles. To be fair, the anticipation and impatience were all on her. Joe hadn’t guaranteed he’d come. And that dinner comment had been part of a friendly conversation. He’d been casual, and she’d taken it seriously.
“’S’up. Talking to yourself?” Kelly exhaled as she leaned the full-to-the-top bus tub at the edge of the work area.
“Goodness, what’d you do, pick up the entire floor?” Grabbing one end, Hunter pulled along with Kelly until the heavy container was safely settled. “You could hurt yourself.”
“I’m a big girl.” Kelly flexed her arms, showing a rather large pair of biceps.
“Not bad.” Hunter raised her glass in salute, then swallowed two large gulps of her soda water. “Ah, just what the doctor ordered. I was parched.”
Kelly eyed her sideways. “So what were you saying?”
“Me? Nothing. Why?”
“Your mouth was moving, girl.” One corner of Kelly’s lips lifted. “That usually means some sort of conversation, either with yourself or someone else.”
“Ah… Just silly stuff.” Hunter shrugged, placing her empty glass in the sink.
“How’s the sitch in Brooklyn? The family all right? Speak to Mamá Giordano or lil’ Kev?”
Hunter propped her elbow on the counter. Leaning her weight sideways, she slowly rubbed her aching lower back.
“I called them earlier. All three are fine. Mamá’s complaints are the usual. Pop doesn’t pay attention to her. He sits on his recliner watching sports all day. I’m too old to work in a bar. The money I send doesn’t cover her expenses, blah, blah, blah. And Kev…” She smiled remembering her little boy’s excited chatter about his latest school project. “He’s as sweet as ever. I can’t wait for August.”
Kelly began unloading the contents of the bus tub in the sink’s soapy water. “Does Mamá Giordano know what’s happening?”
“She’ll know when I knock on her door.” Hunter straightened. She stretched and shifted, loosening her stiff back.
“Good. You hav
e this part all figured out. So, what’s got you all twisted up?”
Hunter gawked. Kelly snickered.
“Listen, doll, when you started chewing gum, I was already blowing bubbles. Cough it up.”
“You’re impossibly stubborn.” Crossing her arms, she leaned against the bar.
Kelly nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Hunter grimaced. “I’m waiting for Joe Reid.”
“Wait? What?” Kelly pressed a hand on the edge of the sink. “This I gotta hear.”
Releasing a breath, Hunter repeated her conversation with Joe. Kelly listened as she took the last glass out of the tub.
Hunter held up her palms. “I’m making a big deal, and he probably forgot, or something more important than me came up.”
“Unfamiliar territory for you, doll.”
“Huh?”
“Role reversal.” Kelly squirted liquid soap over the dirty glasses, then opened the hot water spray, making larger suds. “You’re used to guys following you everywhere, drooling over you. And it don’t matter if they’re good or bad men. Bottom line, you don’t respect them. You squeeze their last ounce of juice to get your fix, then toss them away. I know what brought you to this point, your reasons for treating men this way. Still…” She turned off the water and picked up a towel to dry her hands. “Some deserve it, some sure don’t. And now, this guy is barely giving you the time of day and you can’t stop thinking about him. It’s a little perverse, if you ask me.”
“Payback,” Hunter whispered. “I’m getting a taste of my own medicine.”
Kelly nodded.
“Heaven help me, but I want him, eye patch and all.” The spoken admission tore down her last barrier, and she blushed like a teenager. She glanced at her feet, avoiding Kelly’s scrutiny. “But he may never feel—”
“Look.”
Kelly bumped her shoulder. Hunter gasped. Her heart took off on a wild stampede. Wearing a baseball cap flipped backward, a plain black T-shirt and jeans, and looking hot and delicious, Joe scanned the room as if he was searching for someone.
I’m right here, her mind screamed. But in a supreme effort, she flattened her lips into silence. Just when she thought he’d come directly to her, a noisy group at a high-top table called his name. He waved and joined them. The floor caved under her feet.
Deception Page 11