Songs for Perri

by Nancy Radke

  Both were strong, take-charge sort of men, the kind who attracted her immediately. Both were intelligent, sensitive, protective. Both could quicken her heartbeat and make her want to be closer.

  Was there any difference? Joe had proven himself to be courageous; Hugo kind. Joe talked less than Hugo, although both had a sense of humor that showed itself at odd moments. Hugo was a rock star, which could prove to be a negative; but Joe was a private detective—or CIA.

  There had to be something to help her decide between the two of them. If ever a person was on the prongs of a dilemma, it was Perri.

  Something told her she'd be getting two marriage proposals before long and she wasn't ready for that. What would she tell them? Joe knew about Hugo, but Hugo didn't know about Joe.

  What would happen when she told him? Hugo was very possessive. How could she keep things in control?

  She didn't want them to fight over her...they were much the same size and a fight wouldn't solve anything. Joe was combat trained so he'd win, but that wouldn't make any difference to her. Like a child whose parents were involved in a divorce, her emotions were pulling her both ways. What a mess!

  Once in the taxi, Joe took her hand in his. His was a strong hand, the fingertips and outer edge calloused. His touch sent a mixture of confused emotions skittering through her.

  She had been attracted to him the first time she'd seen him; wishing he'd be her contact.

  She had gotten her wish. Why wasn't she happier?

  Hugo, of course. The dark-eyed man with his distinctive swagger and mellow voice had stormed her senses, even when she normally didn't care for that type of person. A quieter man like Joe would be better for her in the long run. Except Hugo already had staked his claim.

  Joe turned, pulling her close, but even as she tensed to pull away, he whispered in her ear: "I'll leave the cab here. I've been with you too long already. When you get to the hotel, go straight to your room and wait for me. I'll bring the camera."

  They were near the hotel. He paid the taxi driver and got out, giving Perri's hand a final squeeze. She rode the last four blocks by herself.

  Hopefully, she could turn everything over to Joe and go home. Unless whoever had murdered those agents now had his sights set on her. Who was he?

  The Scorpion. The name made her shudder. Where was he? And who was his prey?

  Perri walked up to the doors of the hotel and stopped cold, suddenly alarmed. What if Hugo was in the lobby?

  What would she tell him? That she had gone for a walk? But what if he'd seen her get out of the taxi?

  Her mind came up blank—she certainly wouldn't make a very good spy—so she wished for blind luck and scurried quickly through the doors and straight to the bank of elevators. Like a trotting horse with blinders, she looked neither right nor left, as if her not seeing anyone would work in the reverse.

  "Wait!" Anna joined her just before the doors closed. "How're you doing?" she asked as they started upward.

  "Fine," Perri said. "How about you?"

  "So, so. I tried to take a series of Vic. I guess some people just don't like their pictures taken. I got three of him before he spotted me and ducked."

  "Vic?"

  "The young man who rode back from the airport with us."

  The door opened, and Anna grabbed it but didn't step out. "Join me, why don't you? I've got some super shots. If you like any, I'll make some duplicates."

  "That sounds great, but I don't think—”

  "I've got some great ones of that hunk of a man you couldn't get rid of."

  "I didn't try very hard," Perri confessed. "Like you guessed, he doesn't respond to ‘No.'"

  "You want to see them?"

  Very much. The temptation was great. "Well...yes, but....I only have a few minutes."

  "Hugo coming by?"

  "Yes," Perri lied and allowed a silly grin to take over her features. It wasn't hard at all. All she had to do was think of Hugo.

  "Come on then."

  “Okay.”

  She did have some good shots, including some of Perri with Hugo. Two people in love. The photos said it all.

  “Pull out the ones you want. I’ll make duplicates.”

  "I'd better not," Perri suddenly put the breaks on herself. Joe was waiting. "Later, perhaps."

  "Okay. Look, I might have to go home abruptly. My boss didn't want to give me this vacation, so I'm waiting for a call. Give me your address and I can send some of the better ones to you."

  "Sure." Perri pulled out her business card and wrote her address on the back. "How about yours?"

  Anna handed her a business card. A travel company.

  "Thanks."

  Joe was in the hallway, stepping away from Hugo's door as she walked up. She looked a question, and he put his finger to his lips.

  "He's in there," he whispered. His cheerful, unassuming smile made him look like an uncomplicated young man with not a care in the world. Certainly not like a man involved in the dirty business Walt and Owen had hinted at. "Where were you?"

  She told him in a whisper as she unlocked her door.

  "You gave me a bad moment when you weren't in your room." His eyes were friendly, gazing steadily into hers as he handed her the camera. "Here you are. I wrote out some instructions. Owen should have no trouble."

  "Good." Perri flashed him a warm smile as she took it and set it beside her picture of Crystal on the desk.

  "Crystal." Perri turned at the tremor in his voice and quickly re-assessed his coolness. Steel gray eyes, in pain, filled with an overwhelming sadness, stared at the photo of her mother, then blazed into hers in anguish. Reaching out, he mutely pulled her close, hugging her almost desperately to him.

  He didn't say anything, just held her close, tightly; and her arms hugged him back in sympathy. It was the same way Owen had held her and she realized that Joe, too, was still fighting an overwhelming grief. Unlike Walt and herself, Joe and Owen had been denied the comfort of a funeral and any time to recover.

  They stayed that way for several minutes, without speaking. Perri felt the weight of her own emotions lift from her shoulders as she offered the comfort of shared grief.

  "Sorry," he muttered at last, haggard face downcast.

  "Don't be. Please. I'm glad she meant so much to people."

  "You're so much like her. Your hair color, the way you walk, your smile. It's like having her in the room again."

  "That's what Walt says."

  "It must be twice as hard on him."

  "He's doing better. It didn't help when Owen couldn't make it home for the funeral."

  "I'd better go, before Hugo decides to call." He released her, stepped back and wiped his eyes.

  "What should I do about him?" she asked.

  He sighed, looking reluctant to tell her. "As much as I hate to say it, act like you're falling in love with him."

  "What?"

  "Your dad's instructions, not mine. If anyone wonders about you two, they'll figure you're just a couple of love-birds, enjoying Mexico. Actually, you've been putting on a pretty good act so far, anyway."

  "That wasn't an act, Joe. I told you, I like Hugo."

  His proud head lifted and there was no hesitation in his next statement. "Like him all you want to. I'll still be around to see you when I get off this job. Then I'll give Hugo a run for his money."

  His voice was flat, positive. Dead serious. "I'd better go," he added with a grimace, as if reminding himself that the job came first. "See you."

  "So long."

  "Make sure you keep your door bolted."

  "I will." She walked over to the door with him. He touched his fingertips to his lips, then to hers...lightly; nevertheless it sent an electroshock of excitement bolting downward to her toes. Her interest aroused, she stared at him as he left.

  Slamming shut the bolt, she wondered if he also had felt that jump of electricity. Or was he so intent on telling Walt that Owen was found, he hadn't felt it? Perri knew it was possible fo
r one person to feel love, and the other not.

  Would someone try to kill him, too? Or herself? When she had hugged Joe, she couldn't reach around his muscular chest very easily and had dropped her hands to his waist, feeling the gun that nestled in his waistband in the hollow of his back.

  The hard steel was a grim reminder that this was no game they were playing, no movie they were in. The acting was real. The stakes were peoples' lives. It was why it was necessary to lie--not any more than you had to, but necessary.

  By her adamant repudiation of lying, she had forced her family to lie to her. Now even she was having to lie.

  She wouldn’t be able to tell Stormy any more about this. She had texted her cousin on the flight down, letting her know some of the details.

  A shiver pressed its cold way down her spine as she recalled Owen's warning. She shouldn't trust anyone, even Hugo. Joe might be able to compartmentalize his emotions, but Perri doubted if she could do the same.

  It was still early in the evening. What should she do? She didn't feel like going to bed; she was still too wound up after having seen Owen.

  Should she see if Hugo was in? No, she argued silently with herself, it would be better to not see him. She showered, washed and dried her hair. It was still only seven. Restless, she turned on the TV, flipping through the channels. Nothing worth watching. Disgusted, she turned it off again.

  This restlessness was unusual. Usually she found plenty to occupy herself while on trips alone. The phone rang and she snatched it up without wondering who was calling. "Hello?"

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  "Hugo here. I heard your TV. Feeling better?"

  Her heart raced at the sound of his voice. She did want to see him—very much—after all.

  As a consequence, her voice reverberated with expectant eagerness. "Oh...yes. Much better."

  "Join me then. I've already eaten, but—”

  "I don't want anything," she interposed quickly.

  "Fine. Come on over...or shall I join you?"

  "Wait. I'll get dressed."

  "No need." He chuckled good-humorously.

  Perri felt her face grow warm. There was every need, as far as she was concerned. Hanging up, she pulled on undergarments, then a sweatshirt and slacks; looked at herself in the mirror, and yanked the outer garments off again.

  She had spent enough time today in slacks. From her small supply of clothes, she laid out a pretty white embroidered Mexican dress she had bought in Phoenix, sleeveless, with flared shirt and an elasticized neckline. Much better. A fluffy underskirt and sandals, a touch of makeup and some silver earrings. She was ready.

  Suddenly it was impossible to wait any longer. Driven by the need to be with this exciting man whose voice had shaken her heart, she flung open the connecting door.

  Hugo was standing by his suitcase, dressed in white cotton slacks and a half-opened Mexican shirt designed to arouse female instincts. He wasn't wearing his dark glasses and a glow of pleasure lit his face as he greeted her, dark eyes alight in anticipation, his hand outstretched.

  Responding to the warmth of his welcome, she rushed to him with ardent enthusiasm, colliding against the hardness of his muscular body. Gathering her close, Hugo kissed her urgently, demanding a response that she gave. She desperately needed the feel of him—the physical comfort of the touch, scent, sight and sound of him—after being released from the strain of the search. Demanding comfort, she pressed herself harder against him, seeking the solid core of strength that was as much a part of him as his music.

  As the weight lifted from her shoulders, her feelings for Hugo—set free from the tight constraint she had put on them—expanded in a rush to fill the void and swirled upward in ecstatic joy. There were no half-measures with Perri. She had always know this would be the way it'd be for her...as it had been for Crystal. When she finally loved a man, it would be completely.

  His lips sought deeper commitment and she answered in kind, desperate in her need to ease the fierce emotions coursing through her. Her happiness swelled and soared, to meet his, challenging him to come with her to a new world of shining glory. Her face, always so patently expressive, revealed a love ready to be generously given.

  As if he realized she had cast aside her doubts and made her decision for him, Hugo, with a broad grin of triumph, kissed her again, dark eyes glowing with a deep inner happiness that reflected her feelings exactly.

  Fiercely, she clung to him, her face against his smoothly shaven jaw, breathing in the mint of freshly applied aftershave, the sweetness of his breath. His chest was so deep it was hard for her to reach around and she dropped her hands lower.

  "Ah, my dearest," he spoke huskily, his now ragged breath stirring her hair, "I don't think this was such a wise decision after all."

  "Why not?" she queried, her mind churning with the heady emotion of being in his arms.

  "The bed's too near and you're far too lovely," he confessed. "And tonight we're in perfect harmony."

  She felt that way too. As if their souls had joined together to create a sweet-flowing melody unique to just them. "I can almost hear music," she admitted.

  "There's no almost with me...with you around I constantly hear it. My trouble's getting one tune written down before a new one comes."

  "Really?"

  "Uh huh."

  "You're not kidding?"

  "No."

  "I set you off?"

  "In more ways than that. Let's get out of here. There's a marimba band playing at the Seaside Hotel. How does that sound?"

  Wise, she thought. "Wonderful," she said, but he was still holding her and his lips found hers again—almost desperately—as if he had not spoken.

  She hadn't realized just how strong he was until he lifted her like fluff and spun her around, cradled in his arms. She clasped her hands behind his neck to hang on. He stopped abruptly and put her down. The room was still spinning, and not just from being whirled about by him.

  Unlocking her hands from around his neck, he held them against his chest, kissing her once more, his seeking lips sending feathery shivers of desire racing down her spine. The feeling of absolute joy spread, as her entire being joined in the chorus, its volume swelling, eager and clamoring for more, wanting a meeting between them; intense and emotional.

  As emotion overwhelmed then, they broke apart with a gasp; then clung tightly again in unison while the shudder that ran through Hugo's tall frame was echoed in Perri's smaller one. So tightly did he hold her that she would have felt crushed...except she was beyond noticing; everything was so wonderful! Everything was blended, synchronized with passion.

  Hugo stumbled over his words. "Sweetheart, my darling Perri. You...you're all a man could ask for. So lovely...so completely feminine. What have you done? You make my heart spin."

  "And you make my head spin. What—”

  "Hush!" He laid a finger tenderly against her lips. "It's too soon for us, my dearest. Much too soon. A dramatic overture...nothing more right now. Therefore, let us get out of here before I forget my prom—, my good intentions, and make love to you. But first, come here with me."

  She followed him to where his luggage lay, watching curiously as he reached into his grip and pulled out the silver serpent bracelet she had admired in the jewelry shop. "This is for you."

  Perri stood speechless as he slipped it around her wrist, clamping it on so it wouldn't fall off. "Oh, no, Hugo, I couldn't—”

  Again the finger was laid on her lips, to be replaced by his lips after he said, "Shh. I want you to have it."

  His right hand came up to cradle her head, slipping decisively under the vibrant shock of hair so noticeable that it had successfully caught her brother's eye...and attracted Hugo as a moth to a beacon.

  His kiss was deep, far-reaching as if with it he could quench a thirst for her which he refused to slake any other way. This time he was holding her so tightly it hurt, yet she welcomed the slight pain which seemed to inflame her feelings even more.


  The way she felt right now, he could have asked her anything and she would have given it. So she nodded and kissed him back, this kiss lasting even longer, promising even more.

  Breaking away, he caught up his leather coat and urged her through into her room where she put on a cardigan. Wordlessly they left through her door, seeking out the restraints imposed by being in a public place.

  But the way Hugo draped his arm around her and the stars that shone in her eyes announced to even the casual observer that they were destined for love.

  They actually didn't speak much that night, for Hugo had forgotten his dark glasses and Perri found out that his potent glance could ask, or agree, or laugh with her...or devour her completely without any words being needed. All night he made love to her, emotionally—with a touch of his hand, his eyes, a smile. He never said much, yet she knew exactly what she meant to him.

  It was sobering to know how much happiness she could give with her own quick smile.

  So much for not letting him get serious about her. Or her with him. Like water behind a broken dam, their feelings had been impossible to restrain.

  It was late when at last they walked hand and hand along the sands, listening to the rhythmic roar of the breakers. As the evening grew cool, Hugo had put his coat protectively around her shoulders. She breathed in the rich smell of the leather, warm and comforting, her heart beating strongly with joy and love for this man.

  She might have to learn to put up with Donegal, but that was a small price to pay for Hugo's love. And, as he had so readily pointed out, rock stars have a notoriously short time in the limelight before their fickle fans replace them with someone else.

  "You're so dear to me," he confessed, his hand gripping hers as if in terror of losing her as they wandered along under the moon.

  "And you to me, Hugo. It seems like I've known you for years instead of days."

  "I'll be going home soon. I'll need your address. And phone. I'll get in touch with you there."

  "How soon?" she asked, saddened and yet relieved. If Hugo left, then she wouldn't have to keep evading him while she saw Joe. And if Hugo left, he couldn't be drawn into this dirty business.

  "I have one more weekend left, this Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Then my engagement is over and the band will be leaving. How about you?"