She was halfway to dreaming. “Thank you.”
Steven curled her into his arms. “Sleep, sweetheart, but when you wake up, we’re having a long conversation.”
“Then I won’t wake up,” she replied.
* * * *
But she did.
She stretched, and fought to open her eyes. Steven sat fully dressed in a white dress shirt that sat snugly against his muscled arms and broad shoulders. One ankle lay across his knee in a pair of relaxed jeans. Several appetizers, a bottle of wine, and two plates sat on the table.
“Hello, sleeping beauty.”
“What time is it?” she asked, blinking. He’d closed the curtains, cloaking the room in darkness, to let her sleep better.
He rose from his chair, and reached for her hands, pulling her to him. “You slept for an hour and a half.”
“Steven, what about your brother?”
“I told him what happened, and we agreed to meet later on. It’s only six o’clock. Vegas doesn’t get going until eleven. So that leaves us time to talk.”
“Don’t need to talk,” she said, trying to pull away from him, but he dragged her off the bed until her feet planted themselves on the floor. She grabbed the bath towel and wrapped it around herself.
“Yes, we do. Sit,” he ordered.
“The girls told you, I suppose.”
“Some of it, although it doesn’t make one ounce of sense. So you can tell me instead.”
“What do you want me to say? I’m bad luck, a black rabbit’s foot, cursed. Bad things happen around me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true.”
He motioned for her to take a seat at the table. “Moira, you are an intelligent woman. You can’t tell me you believe that garbage.”
She plucked a square of cheese from the plate, along with a cracker. “What the hell are you doing with me?” she asked, then stuffed the cracker in her mouth. Even the tiniest bit of food tasted great, and it made her voracious.
“Don’t change the subject. What happened to your husband?”
She stopped from reaching for another piece of cheese, and leaned back in the chair. “And they told you that, too, huh?”
“No, Callie mentioned something, and the others wanted to string her up.”
Leaning forward on her forearms, she gazed into his eyes. He still didn’t make any sense to her. Nothing had changed, in fact the intensity was increasing. His rugged features made her wet every time she looked at him, and now she knew his personality matched the strong, caring man that he appeared to be. There wasn’t an ounce of pretty-boy-don’t-get-your-fingers-dirty in him. He’d come with her into the resort to help save others. That worked more on her heart than flowers ever could. Intelligent and caring, there wasn’t anything domineering about him, except for the way he carried himself. He liked to tease her by yanking control away from her, and he certainly took command of her body when he wanted to. The problem was she wanted him to. “I shouldn’t have said that to you back at the hotel.”
He shook his head not understanding.
“When I told you to help or back off. That wasn’t right.”
He uncorked the wine and filled her glass. “So, I saw the business side of you. Do you think that changes anything? Sometimes even I need my limits pushed, even if it comes from a five-foot-nothing little siren.”
“To life,” she said, picking up her glass.
“To your life,” he said, tapping it, and stared into her eyes.
She didn’t drink, instead she dropped her glass to the table. “My life is nothing to toast, Steven.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I don’t think it, I know it.”
Reaching for her plate he asked, “What happened to your husband?”
“Does it really matter?” she asked, using the same line on him he used on her.
“Yes, it does,” he said, laying a sample of each appetizer on the china, and setting it back down in front of her.
“Thank you.”
“Welcome, now start talking.”
She sighed and gave in. “It’s not a national secret. I just don’t like thinking about it.”
“Then you can stop thinking about it, after you tell me.” He watched her, his eyes intense.
“It happened two years ago.” Steven leaned back to listen. “We work closely with law enforcement, the marine unit. They’re our biggest allies sometimes. They respond when our Coast Guard units can’t. The Canadian Coast Guard isn’t like the US Coast Guard, they’re not armed, and they’re civilian. They’re search and rescue only.” Instead of digging into the food like she wanted to, she leaned back in the chair, gazing at him.
“Go on.”
“Most of us—that have been around long enough, know each other well.” She took a sip of her wine. Was she really going to share her biggest failure with this man?
“Moira—” His voice lowered in its command for her to keep going.
“It was around nine o’clock at night, and Marcus saw a contact on the radar, a small one. It was moving, but erratically as if lost. Marcus tagged it, and we maintained a watch as it came across the straits on a course for Vancouver. Being November, it was unusual to see a small craft out at that time. The weather was reasonably good, but cold.
“By eleven o’clock I’d gone into the traffic position to give Marcus a break. A vessel called me, and it was obvious by his speech that the operator was under the influence of alcohol or drugs or possibly experiencing some kind of medical problem, maybe a stroke. He asked if there were any big ships coming out of the harbor, and described himself as being just west of the First Narrows Bridge. I had nothing on radar in that area, but I had two tankers departing from inside the harbor within the next thirty minutes.
“We assumed the contact we tagged was the same vessel calling us. Instead of advising the Coast Guard unit because this guy was most likely under the influence, I called the marine law-enforcement unit. The constable was just shutting down for the night, but he decided to respond, but he had to wait for backup because he was alone.
“While we waited, I tried to get more information from the vessel, and told him to wait outside of the harbor until the tankers cleared the bridge, but I didn’t get a response. The target kept on its heading, although it looked as crooked as a dog’s back leg. The tankers had come off the berth by now, and were heading down the harbor for the narrows. They were going to meet under the bridge. In the condition he was operating the craft, the situation was becoming dangerous.”
“The constable departed his dock in the rigid hull inflatable, we call them RHIBs, and I gave him an update on where the vessel was. He intercepted the vessel within minutes. I didn’t hear anything for a while, and it concerned me. I called the RHIB several times with no response. Just when I was going to call 911, the constable came back to me. He sounded completely normal when he said, ‘all’s well here, it’s a 10-33, code 5, I’m going to stand down in a couple of minutes.’”
“What’s a code 10-33?” Steven asked.
“That was the problem. We replayed the communications back immediately, and there was no mistake, he’d just told me in code that he was in danger and guns were drawn. He did it because he knew I knew the police codes, even though we don’t use them in the marine industry. He mixed it in with his message that he was going to stand down in plain language, but told me that he was in trouble.”
“My husband was working on one of the larger cutters docked in Vancouver. I called him and advised him of what was going on. I was going to call the police for backup, but they had to get out there to the scene. The other police boat was down for repairs. I wanted to maintain radio silence to keep things under control, so I didn’t follow procedure, and I didn’t tell who I should have told. The constable out there was my friend, and if I had understood correctly, someone had a gun pointed at him. My husband stood by until the land units reached the dock, and he himself manned the Zodiac, and took the police officers out in
to the harbor. The situation was contained quickly, but not without gunfire. My husband survived, but he was shot through the shoulder.”
“So you were both heroes,” Steven said, leaning forward to take her hand in his.
“No, I was reprimanded and given a suspension without pay for three weeks. I pleaded my case, and two of the Coast Guard officers on the hearing board thought I had acted, although outside of procedure and endangered my husband’s life, with the best chance of success.”
“My husband, on the other hand, could have lost his ticket as a captain, so he twisted the story slightly to make it sound like I had tasked him to take the police out there, which put him in jeopardy. Instead of the truth, which was he tasked himself.”
“Are you kidding me?” Steven shook his head. “So he let you take the fall to keep his position and reputation in tact?”
She got up and walked to the window, fingering the curtain aside. “In the end, no one was killed, and although I was suspended and reprimanded by my employer, the police department awarded me with an accommodation for assisting their officers.”
“And your marriage fell to pieces after that,” he stated.
She nodded and stared out the window. “All through my career, I toed the line, Steven. I applied the rules and did the best job I could. But that night, I just couldn’t take the chance. I had to walk outside the lines, and I had to do it quickly.”
He wandered to the window, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m not in the business of saving lives, but I am responsible for many people. Although I’ve never had to do it, I can imagine walking outside the lines—as you say—to save a soul, because that soul is worth it. You made the decision, and you lived with the consequences.” She sighed as he tilted her chin so she’d look into his eyes. “If I were your husband, I would never turn my back on you. We’d go down together, if it’s down we have to go.”
Her heart drummed in her chest with his words. When his lips covered hers, she melted into his arms. Why the hell did he always know the right thing to say?
He guided her back to the table. “Sit down.”
“Aren’t we finished talking?”
“No. Tell me why they call you the Black Magnet.”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“Callie is scared that something bad is going to happen to you. You don’t believe that, do you?” he asked.
She fiddled with a grape, rolling it around the plate with the tip of her finger. “Steven, it’s the reason I live the way I do. Why I’m a recluse. For some reason I’ve had more close calls than anyone I know.”
“Like what?”
She popped the grape into her mouth, and let the juices burst on her tongue. “You’ve known me for three days, and you’ve experienced two earthquakes, saved me from plunging to my death, and the resort I’m staying in is a burning inferno.” She gazed at him. “Does that make it any easier to understand?”
“If you put it like that—maybe.” He paused. “But you forgot to mention that we trekked through beautiful country and had some great laughs with your crew. I didn’t choke on any sushi. We watched the sun go down in each other’s arms after making mind-blowing love, had dinner, won at the tables, loved each other’s bodies again, woke up in each other’s arms, and saved numerous lives—in the last three days.” He folded his muscled arms across his chest. “I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. I might have to give up my business and just follow you around.” He reached across the table and pulled her hand into his. “So, Moira, you might think a black cloud follows you around. I think you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”
Her mouth gaped open. She sat stunned. Not a single thought entered her mind. She simply stared at him, barely blinking.
A glint shone in his eyes. “Moira, call the girls and go shopping.”
“Okay,” she whispered, and walked to the phone as if she were in a trance. How the hell did he do that? He’d taken three days of bad and turned it into good, and he was right. Everything he said was true.
She called Mandy.
“Jesus, Moira, tell Steven it’s too much, but thank you.”
She heard Callie pipe up in the background. “It’s not too much and thank him for me, too.”
“What are you talking about, Mandy?”
“An envelope was delivered to each of our rooms from Steven.”
Moira turned and narrowed her eyes. “What was in the envelope?” He put his hands on his thighs and pushed himself up. She palmed his chest to stop him.
“We each got fifteen thousand dollars in a card that said to have fun. Tell Steven I’ll give him back what I don’t spend, which will be most of it, I’m sure. The card also said to put our shopping in his name. It’s crazy.”
“He did huh?”
“Patti and Sasha have already gone, and Callie, as you heard, is waiting beside me, waiting impatiently, I might add.”
“I’m just going to get dressed, and I’ll come to your room.”
“Okay, hurry up.”
Steven watched her silently as she hung up the phone. She turned her attention to the neatly piled shirt and jeans on the bed, and saw her envelope sticking out between the clothes. She sat down, and picked it up, but didn’t open it. “Thank you for all you’ve done. It’s too much, but I’ll make sure to pay you back when we get home.” He pulled her into his arms, and surrounded her with his strength.
“You’re not paying me back.” He grinned at her. “You don’t think I can afford to allow a few ladies to replace what they’ve lost?”
“I guess you can, but you’re not responsible for us.” She kissed his cheek, reveling in the scent of his skin. He smelled so good for a man, an earthy, intoxicating smell.
“Do me a favor and keep Callie away from Cartier. I gave you girls carte blanche in the stores, but don’t tell her that.”
“You did what?”
“Buy whatever you want, but don’t bother buying anything for tonight. I took care of that already.”
“What did you do?” she asked, pulling away from him.
“You’ll see when you get back. It’ll be waiting here for you.”
“Steven?”
He picked up the clothes and dropped them in her arms, then gently pushed her toward the bathroom door, but not before giving her one more deep kiss. “I’ll see you downstairs at eight.”
She gave him a sideways look. “See you later, Mr. Porter.”
“Ms. Viterra—”
The look in his eyes sent a tremble from her toes to her fingertips.
“I’m more than a friend, and the next reporter we run into is going to hear the truth.”
She swallowed, but didn’t trust herself to ask what that was.
* * * *
Moira dropped the bags on the bed after an hour and a half of power shopping with the girls.
A deep blue box with gold ribbon embossed across the top lay on the bed. “Oh Mr. Porter, what have you done?” she said out loud. Carefully she fingered the edge of the box and pushed back the lid. “Oh my, goodness.”
She reached for the dress, pulling it out, and held it up in front of her. The deep green practically matched the color of her eyes. Small flecks of glistening black thread wove through the skirt. The top of the dress was made of a sheer, see-through silk. She walked to the mirror, and draped it across her body.
“The man should be a fashion designer,” she said, admiring the cut, which gathered to show off the waist and flared in the skirt. The box also had a pair of low pump heels and a bra with a matching slip. She laughed at that. But she didn’t laugh when she picked it up for a closer look. The clasp in the center looked like real gold, and two small diamonds lay in the center of two embossed four-leaf clovers. “Very funny, Mr. Porter.” The satiny material felt soft to her touch, and gold thread twisted through the embroidered lace that bordered the edges and crawled up the cups.
She blinked. “This couldn’t be real gold?” The small black la
bel read, Carine Gilson. “Who’s that?”
Chapter Eleven
Steven waited in the lobby. When Moira walked across the sand-colored, terrazzo tiles he thought he was dreaming. Other men turned their heads to watch her as well, and his chest swarmed with an unknown feeling, but he was pretty sure it was pride.
“You look beautiful,” he said, admiring her. His finger followed the low neckline. He kissed her deeply then leaned his forehead against hers. “Maybe we should go upstairs for a drink?”
“Drink, my ass,” she said, smiling as she took his hand. “You have very good taste, Mr. Porter.”
“I have to say I kind of had fun looking for that.”
“I’m sure you did. How many women offered to display it for you, especially the bra?” she asked.
“Never mind.” He kissed her, lingering on her lips to avoid answering the question.
“You look as hot as ever,” she said, and slipped her hand around his waist as they made their way toward the valet entrance. “Oh look, there’s another woman stumbling over her own two feet. Do you ever get tired of the leering?”
He opened his mouth to say something then closed it just as quickly, a chuckle erupting instead. “I don’t really notice it anymore, except maybe when you were looking at me the other night.”
“I wasn’t leering at you.”
“If you say so.”
She made a tsking sound. “I did not.” She cranked her head around so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
He gently guided her chin to face him. “Now look who’s telling white lies,” he said, leaning away from her. “But I’ll let you off the hook this time.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“How did the shopping turn out?”
“What’s not to like about shopping with Callie,” she said dryly. “I saved your credit card from a dismal, fiery death by the way.”
“I wasn’t worried, I put a hundred–thousand-dollar cap on it.”
She choked. “A what?”
“I didn’t want her to get too carried away.”
“A hundred thousand dollars? Are you insane, Steven? Ten thousand dollars would have been too much.”
Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 16