by Heidi Rice
“Is she okay?” Katie asked, the guilt all but crippling her. She’d known Megan would worry, but she hadn’t realized she’d worry this much. Megan was usually so practical and calm. “I’m so sorry to have caused—”
“Don’t say that if it isn’t true, sorellina,” Dario cut in, using the endearment that had meant so much to Katie when he’d first started using it a few years ago.
Little sister.
“You say you are sorry for causing Megan this distress, but it is a simple matter to solve the problem.” Her brother-in-law’s usually flawless English had become disjointed, a sure sign he was holding on to his temper with an effort. “All you need to do is come home.”
“I can’t do that, Dario, please understand.” Inadequacy twisted in her stomach, making unhappy bedfellows with the guilt.
Why does this have to be so hard?
She sounded immature and selfish, even to her own ears. But the thought of returning to New York had the inadequacy clawing at her throat, the way it had so often since the night of Whittaker’s attack. She couldn’t go back until she had more to show for her trip than some great anecdotes and a half-hearted show of independence.
The money she’d made over the last two months with her artwork was all gone, probably paying for a major Pinky and Perky party somewhere. The chances of getting it back were slim to none. She couldn’t return to New York without it because she’d be right back where she started, with Dario and Megan bankrolling her and all her screw-ups.
She couldn’t tell Dario and Megan about the money she’d lost, though, because they’d offer to replace it, not realizing that it wasn’t the money that mattered so much as the fact she’d earned it herself.
“And when will you be ready?” Dario asked. “How much longer do you intend to punish your sister this way?”
“I’m not trying to punish Megan,” she said, the weariness starting to weigh her down. Dario was someone she had always wanted to impress, because he had been the one to save Megan when she had failed. “This isn’t about her. It’s about me.”
“Yes, I understand, it is always about you,” Dario replied, the sharp tone unlike him. Dario rarely if ever showed his frustration.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “And I’m really sorry I contacted you with this. I shouldn’t have done that, I should have—”
“No, Katie, don’t say this. We are glad you contacted us,” he said, but she could hear the weary sigh down the phone line—and felt like even more of a fraud.
Dario was always so certain. So successful. And so was Megan. They knew what they wanted and had set out to get it together. They’d had a few wobbles along the way. But they’d worked through them and succeeded and built an incredible life for themselves.
But what they had never understood was that she wasn’t like them. She had none of Megan’s steadiness or certainty and none of Dario’s drive or ambition. And she simply wasn’t cut out for long-term relationships. Heck, she’d never even gotten to third base with any of the guys she’d dated over the years—the fear of being subsumed, having her own personality swallowed up by someone else’s, always so much greater than the lure of sexual intimacy.
That she was still a virgin at twenty-four years old spoke for itself. She didn’t consider it a choice or a flaw, so much as an essential means of survival. She had to find herself first, really get to know who she was and what she wanted, before she could consider risking that fragile identity by blending it with another.
And, if she ever did find the right guy, it would never be a guy like Dario. As much as she loved him as a brother, marrying someone like him, falling in love with someone like him, would be an unmitigated disaster.
The way Megan and Dario looked at each other sometimes when they thought no one was watching, the way they touched each other—all those small, insignificant, secret touches that demonstrated not just their off-the-charts sexual chemistry but also how much they loved and respected each other—had always scared Katie. How could anyone trust another person that much? Enough to rely on them absolutely?
She couldn’t do that—she knew she couldn’t. But living so close to Megan and her family, watching Dario and Megan with their two adorable kids, Izzy and Arturo, had become a double-edged sword.
She loved being part of a solid, secure unit that wasn’t just her and her sister anymore. But, on the other hand, seeing how happy, how complete, Megan, Dario and their kids were together made her feel like an intruder. The dark cloud on their bright horizon who could contribute nothing to the whole but could only take.
The tabloid stories of her dancing on tables, or getting arrested during a midnight swim in Central Park Lake, or losing her modeling contract because she had famously decided to chop all her hair off on a whim had hurt Megan and Dario and the kids as much as they’d hurt her.
Which was exactly why she’d jumped ship and headed to Europe where her celebrity profile was non-existent. The anonymity had been glorious. But, more than that, having to survive on her own had been liberating in ways she couldn’t even have imagined.
She’d learned some important stuff about herself. Not least of which was that she could enjoy life, do adventurous, exciting stuff, without being reckless or stupid. Or dragging her family through the mud.
She’d discovered that after four and a half years of screw-ups and embarrassing tabloid headlines, after four and a half years of citations and fines as a result of a string of dumb stunts and thoughtless acts, and after four and a half years of failing to make anything like a decent living she could break that cycle. She could live on her own terms without compromising the happiness of others.
But New Improved Katie was still a work in progress. And today she was at a crossroads, her fledging independence being tested thanks to Pinky and Perky. But this time she couldn’t take the easy road.
Getting Dario to understand why she didn’t want his help was going to be an uphill battle, though. Not one she needed right now when she felt as if she were about to dissolve into Caine’s upholstery.
“I am glad you contacted us,” Dario reiterated. “But you must understand now that you are safer here, with your family, than wandering around Europe on your own,” he continued, the no-nonsense tone one she was sure he used on his employees. “You must fly home tonight. And we will figure this out together.”
But it’s not your problem, it’s mine, she wanted to scream. But the words were locked in her throat, trapped behind the boulder of guilt. How could she make Megan and him see that their love was stifling her ability to solve her own problems and not empowering her without hurting them even more?
“Dario, that’s not going to happen, man,” Caine’s gruff voice sliced through Katie’s anxiety. “She can’t fly anywhere for a while.”
Katie blinked, surprised not just by Caine’s intervention but that he seemed to be on her side. A strange warmth spread through her to add to the inappropriate hum. Of course she didn’t need his help, but she was exhausted enough to appreciate it, especially from someone who had always batted for Team Dario.
“Why not?” Dario asked, sounding frustrated.
“Because the muggers stole her passport.”
The realization that Caine’s defection was about pragmatism, rather than a newfound respect for her, dampened Katie’s warm glow a little.
She shook off the prickle of disappointment. She didn’t care what Caine’s motives were, he’d just provided her with the perfect get-out clause—which if she hadn’t been so exhausted she would have figured out herself.
“That’s true, Dario,” she chipped in. “I’m stuck here until I can get a new one.” And replace everything else she’d lost, which would take her a month at least. Possibly more.
“Can you organize a new passport, Jared?” Dario said, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Sure.”
“How long will it take?” Dario asked.
“Hey, wait a minute, I can...” Katie tried t
o interrupt but the men were already on a testosterone roll.
“I’ll find out. I’ll get my PA to contact the British consulate in Naples. My guess is, it’ll be quicker than trying to get her a US one.”
Katie’s mind reeled. How did Jared Caine know she had dual nationality? She’d spent the years until her mother’s death in a British boarding school, and her accent had always been a mid-Atlantic hybrid—her upbringing a mix of two cultures divided by a common language. But since her late teens she’d always thought of herself as more American than British, unlike Megan. How exactly was this any of Jared Caine’s business, though?
“You are in Capri for the next few days, yes?” Dario asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then she must stay with you, until the passport is ready. And you can bring her home? Is that okay?”
What the...?
Katie’s tired mind stalled. For several precious seconds she was so shocked by Dario’s high-handed assumption, no sound would come out of her mouth.
Caine paused, his jaw hardening to granite again. And Katie felt the horror and humiliation that had taken her by the throat begin to ease.
Don’t freak out. No way will Caine agree to this.
Dario was being a jerk, but his heart was in the right place. Dario’s I’m-the-boss-of-you gene had always been hyperactive, or he never would have whisked Meg off to Isadora after the assault and insisted on marrying her when he’d found out she was pregnant. And, if anything, since he had become a dad Dario’s take-charge gene had gone into overdrive because there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect his children or his wife. And he’d always considered Katie part of that equation, even before he’d married Megan. Which was exactly how she’d ended up with Caine as a minder five years ago.
But Dario didn’t know what had happened between her and his best friend while he and Megan had been in Isadora. She had certainly never told either Megan or him about that humiliating kiss. And she was sure Caine hadn’t said anything to Dario, either, or Megan would have mentioned it.
The men were as close as brothers, but she’d never been able to get out of Megan what their history was. All she knew was that Caine seemed to owe Dario some kind of debt. But, whatever the debt was, it couldn’t possibly be enough to make him agree to be her babysitter again.
“Of course it’s not a problem.” Caine’s reply shocked Katie into silence again. “She can come to Capri with me until I fly back in four days—I’ll make sure she has a passport by then.”
“Great,” Dario said. “That’s settled.”
“Are you completely mad?” Katie blurted out at the same time, finally relocating her voice.
“Katie?” Dario asked, obviously confused. “What is the matter?”
“I’ve got this, Dario. Gotta sign off—we’re coming to a tunnel. Speak soon.” Jared fired a glare at her as he disconnected the call with no tunnel in sight.
Adrenaline surged through her veins, her outrage overtaking her exhaustion. “Why did you tell him that?” she yelped. “This is none of your business.”
“It is now,” he said, the bunched muscle in his jaw working overtime. He didn’t look any happier at the prospect than she did.
She struggled to calm her breathing before her head exploded.
“This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman,” she said, attempting to appeal to his common sense before she gave herself an aneurysm. Fighting fire with fire didn’t work with Caine. She’d tried that once before when she’d been a teenager and it had been a disaster. “Which means I decide what I do. Not you. Or Dario. And I have no intention of going to Capri, with or without you. So you need to call him back and tell him.”
She’d rather gouge out her own eyeballs than go there during some huge PR event. Although the paparazzi and the press had probably forgotten all about her, she was not about to tempt fate. And going with Caine was out of the question. They didn’t like each other and there was the inappropriate hum to consider.
And, on top of all that, Capri was the one place in Europe she had never wanted to go—because her mother was buried somewhere on that island, after the car she’d been in with one of her many lovers had plunged off a cliff. Katie had been to Capri once before, as an eight-year-old, and the hazy memory of standing over a grave in the misty rain, her sister’s arm heavy on her shoulders and the caustic flash of camera bulbs blinding them both, was a blur of misery, emptiness and fear which she did not want to revisit.
The hollow pain in her stomach sunk into the floor of Caine’s convertible.
This trip was about getting away from her mother’s legacy—and the thoughtlessness Katie had inherited that could wreck lives if she didn’t get a handle on it—not following in the woman’s footsteps.
“I know you’re a grown woman,” he said, the growled acknowledgment setting off a new hum that made no sense at all, so she ignored it. “But you’re a grown woman with no money, no clothes, no means of transportation and no ID, which means you’re all out of options. You can’t even collect the money Megan’s planning to wire you.”
Tears of frustration stung the back of her eyes at his brutal assessment, the unfairness of the situation making her want to weep.
“Then lend me some money. I’ll pay you back, I swear.” She could hear the pathetic plea in her voice and hated herself for it. But what other choice did she have? He was right. She couldn’t survive with nothing. But why should everything she’d worked so hard to achieve in the last few months be ruined simply because she’d had the misfortune to get mugged?
“Admit it, you don’t want to babysit me anymore than I want to be babysat,” she continued. “If you could give me enough to sort myself out for a few days, I can contact Dario and explain everything. There’s no reason for you to even be involved.”
He didn’t say anything, his jaw still rigid. She thought she might have made progress. But, when he glanced her way, his gaze locked on her forehead and he swore.
She gripped the dash as the car swerved to the side of the road and stopped.
Her back thudded against the car door and she brushed the hair that had been lifted by the breeze back over her forehead. But when he took her elbow and tugged her toward him, she knew it was too late.
“Hold still,” he said. He brushed a fingertip over her forehead to lift her hair out the way, and studied the bruise for what felt like several hours.
Temper and something inscrutable swirled in the deep-blue depths before he held up three fingers. “How many?”
“Three.”
Folding two down, he tracked his index finger past her nose and back again. “Follow it.”
She did as she was told as her heart pummeled her ribs, and the stupid hum in the pit of her abdomen spiked. The intense look was one she remembered.
“Did you pass out when it happened?” he asked, his expression set in grim lines.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not an idiot,” she managed round the clump of cotton wool that seemed to be clogging her tonsils. “If I thought I had a concussion, I would have said something.”
One eyebrow cocked. “You should have said something, period. If you didn’t look so done in right now, I would be forced to revise my rule on spanking women.”
To her horror, even in the depths of her exhaustion a flare of heat crossed her buttocks. She stiffened and tugged her elbow out of his grasp.
What was wrong with her? How could she get some weird, prurient thrill out of being threatened with a spanking like an unruly kid?
“Then I guess I’d be forced to revise my rule on chopping off men’s arms,” she managed at last. But the comeback wasn’t one of her best, as hopelessness began to engulf her. Not only was she at Caine’s mercy, for tonight at least, she also appeared to be at the mercy of the wayward libido she thought she’d tamed five years ago.
She clasped her arms around her waist, rubbing the goose bumps which had risen on her flesh despite
the warm evening air.
He took a bottle of water out of the glove box and dampened a wad of tissues. Tucking a finger under her chin, he lifted her face to hold the cold compress to the bump on her forehead.
Grasping her wrist, he lifted her hand to replace his. “Keep it pressed to the wound,” he said. The shuttered look he sent her made the churning in her stomach worse. Being pitied was hardly an improvement on being patronized.
“My launch is docked at the Marina Grande,” he said, mentioning Sorrento’s main port. “I’ll call ahead and get a doctor to meet us there, so they can check out your head before we leave Sorrento.”
“That’s overkill. It’s only a graze.” And she hadn’t actually agreed to go to Capri with him. But the thought of having that argument again felt overwhelming—seeing as she could hardly string a coherent sentence together.
He sent her a quelling look and she knew she wasn’t going to win this argument either. “How did it happen?” he asked.
“The battle for my pack got a little out of hand.”
Temper flashed in his eyes, disconcerting her, because it didn’t appear to be aimed at her. For once. “How many of them were there?”
“Two, but they were just teenagers. I don’t think they meant to hurt me.”
“So what? They did,” he said. “I want a description. I’ll file a report with the local cops and brief my team on Capri. Those little bastards need to be caught and punished.”
There he went, assuming she was going to Capri with him again... But her objections remained locked in her throat, beaten into submission by the low fury in his tone and the news he was going to get his men to help find her muggers. The wobbly sensation it caused in her tummy had to be exhaustion.
She didn’t want an avenging angel any more than she wanted a white knight. And especially not one like Jared Caine whose control-freak tendencies were only slightly less disturbing than his ability to make her insides vibrate as if she were plugged into an electric socket.
He shifted into gear and pulled back onto the road. The sun was setting, adding a vivid glow to the stunning landscape as they approached Sorrento. Colorful terracotta houses perched precariously over the vivid blue of the Mediterranean, punctuated by orange groves and trellises of grape vines. A train decorated with colorful graffiti rattled past on the hillside above them.