TarotCafeSeries_bundle

by Lynn LaFleur

  With diners seated at every table, drink orders taken, and waiting diners seated at the bar, Rico leaned against the host’s stand to catch a breath. He glanced over at Marty and saw he’d finally wound down and now embraced both women. He caught Synda’s glance on her way back to the kitchen. She rolled her eyes with a look that said, “Can you believe him?”

  Rico stepped aside to allow Leandra and Marty to pass.

  “Be right back,” she said and handed him the notebook. To Marty she said, “M.B. stopped by this afternoon. Told me P.J. Kendall had invited you backstage after the midnight show.”

  Marty grimaced. “Don’t even get me started on P.J. Kendall.”

  “Oops, is something wrong? M.B. can’t wait to meet him tonight.”

  “Yeah, M.B., and about eight hundred other people.”

  Leandra slowed her pace. Rico leaned closer.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Kendall’s got some kind of bug up his ass. I talked to him at noon—he’s feeling fine, life’s good. Two hours later, his manager calls and says poor P.J.’s got laryngitis and won’t be going on tonight.”

  “So you’re not going.”

  “Naw. She seemed a little under the weather this afternoon too. Kind of down about something. Maybe it’s that time of the month.”

  Rico clenched his fists at Trinidad’s rude remark. How he’d love to shove all those gold chains down Marty’s throat.

  “Or maybe there’s a bug going around.”

  Marty shrugged. “Maybe, but day after tomorrow it’s a new day, a new life, new opportunities.” He turned to Rico and pointed to the notebook. “I just remembered something else.” Without asking, he snatched the spiral notebook out of Rico’s hand. “Hey, kid, get me a pen.”

  Rico handed him one of the pens he’d used to write down the waiting diners’ names. Marty ran his finger down the list of things Leandra had written earlier, scratched through one and added another in its place. “Good, good. Got any questions, you call me, you hear. Everything has to be perfect on Wednesday, everything.”

  Leandra handed the notebook back to Rico. “You worry too much, Marty. Have we ever failed you?”

  “Never!” He pulled her close and hugged her. “Don’t start now.”

  “What’s that all about?” Rico asked once the door closed behind Trinidad.

  “Mr. Entrepreneur has some big deal up his sleeve. He’s reserved the café for Wednesday night.”

  “The banquet room upstairs?”

  “The entire café, with a menu about as excessive as anything I’ve ever seen.” She took the notebook from him. “He’s planning on a hundred, folks worth enough to finance another moonwalk.”

  “Really?”

  “You’ll hear jets flying over all day Wednesday. Some of his guests will fly out after dinner, weather permitting. Otherwise, they’ll head to Reno and North Shore. There’ll be more action at the tables than they’ve seen in a while, and trust me, a lot higher limits.”

  “Did he invite—”

  “Mary Beth is his attorney. Someone has to keep Marty honest.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I told you, Marty loves making deals.” She looked over the list again. “This one must be bigger than most.” She glanced up at Rico. “Marty’s a little over the top, but I don’t think he’d involve M.B. in anything questionable.” She pursed her lips then smiled brightly at a couple who’d just walked in. “Can you handle this by yourself?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good.” She flipped through the notebook. “If I don’t order some of this right now, we’ll never get the shipments in time. I shouldn’t be more than half an hour.”

  *

  At eight thirty, Rico seated the last of the waiting dinner guests and removed the dishes off the table next to them. The dining room closed at nine on weeknights, with the bar serving until eleven from a small menu for late diners.

  Synda and Leandra tried to clock out each night no later than ten.

  “Hey, hey, wait up, fella,” Synda called to Rico. He had raced in from the dining room, carrying the dirty dishes rather than using one of the carts, then turned and started heading back. “Let the bussers get the dishes. That’s their job. You don’t need to do everything.” She sat across the table from Leandra with a mug of something cold. Leandra sipped hot tea. “Sit down, please. We need to talk to you.”

  They looked so stern. Suddenly that high he’d been running on for the last couple of hours faded. He thought he’d done so well. Obviously he’d screwed up and someone complained. Bracing himself for bad news, he pulled up a chair.

  Leandra looked away. Synda just stared with an eyebrow raised.

  “Is everything okay?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Okay? I don’t think I’d call it okay.”

  His throat went dry. Did someone stiff a waiter and blame him? Did he mess up without knowing it? Shit! He fought the urge to bolt. Today went too well—hanging out with Tom and the guys from Search & Rescue, admitting he’d earned a degree to Leandra, tonight—all of it had been too good. It had to turn to shit. It always did. Damn it.

  Suddenly both Synda and Leandra burst out laughing.

  “I wouldn’t call it okay either,” Leandra said and clapped her hands. “I’d call it spectacular!”

  “You did it, Rico.” Synda reached across the table and high-fived him. “You shined out there like Marty’s bling. I’ve worked in restaurants for years, but I’ve never seen anyone so at ease in a dining room on his first night. The staff gave you rave reviews, and—”

  “And…” Leandra picked up from her. “You’re going to find a big fat bonus in your pay this week. Usually the waitstaff gives a share of their tips to the bussers. It wouldn’t be fair to take that away from them, so we’re going to make up what you should have earned in tips.”

  Rico realized he was laughing too, and his cheeks hurt from grinning. “Hey, it was great.”

  “That’s the problem,” Synda said. He saw concern in her eyes. “You’re too darn good at this to be our maintenance guy, but you’re too darn good at maintenance to lose you to the waitstaff. Unless you want to do both, which would be a killer, I don’t know what to tell you.”

  Rico blew out a relieved breath. He hadn’t had this many options in a long, long time.

  Leandra reached in her pocket for a wad of something. She unfolded a fifty-dollar bill. “Remember that table of six cougars who were driving over to North Shore for the late show at the Tahoe Towers?”

  He nodded. Six middle-aged women who’d made it clear they thought he ought to be listed among the desserts.

  “One of them handed me this on her way out. Said to give it to you, and no one else.”

  “Wow.”

  Synda winked. “She wrote her cell phone number right across Grant’s face.”

  “Fortunately for Syn and me, we don’t have an opening on the waitstaff. That’ll give us time to look for a new Director of Maintenance if you’d like to switch over.”

  He scratched the back of his neck. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “There are still some things you need to learn, so I thought you might want to fill in from time to time.”

  “Sure, any time.”

  “How about Wednesday night?”

  “Trinidad’s party?”

  “You could work alongside me again,” Leandra said. “Would you like to do that?”

  “Hell, yes,” he answered, but not because of the experience or the money. Two weeks ago he didn’t know a dinner fork from a dessert fork. Mary Beth knew it too. Now he’d show her he could move as easily in her world as any other man.

  “You’re on,” Synda said. “Now get out of here. You’ve worked two shifts today. That’s enough.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Even with exhaustion tugging at every bone and muscle, Rico couldn’t rest or sleep. He was too keyed up from what happened today—the good things that happened today. Things
you share with someone special.

  Mary Beth.

  Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Sometimes Marty Trinidad hovered beside her. Other times she stood alone, a sad expression on her face and tears on her cheeks.

  He threw the covers aside. He had to stop hanging around Leandra. He was beginning to think like her, actually see images of things he knew weren’t there. Next he’d start carrying a weird deck of cards to answer people’s questions.

  Rico shuffled from his bed to the refrigerator. Alongside the covered bowls Synda kept sending home with him, he found a couple of beers and a few bottles of a sports drink. Neither appealed to him. He turned on the kitchen faucet and cupped his hand. The cold water chilled his palm but tasted fresh against his lips.

  He glanced at the clock on the stove. Almost midnight. Did he dare call Mary Beth this late? Would she answer? Or Marty? Did the old dude show up every night, once he’d finished his wheeling and dealing?

  Rico clenched his fists and swore. What the hell did she see in him? He wasn’t bad looking, but he was old, for crissake, way too old to satisfy a woman as passionate as Mary Beth Hunter.

  He didn’t want to go there. Even thinking her name sent a wake-up call straight to his cock. He’d spent half his adult life hating her, and now he couldn’t wait to see her again. Wanted to hear her begging him to fuck her, his lips on hers, his tongue darting into her mouth, his hard cock sliding into her sweet, wet pussy…

  “Fucking A,” he groaned. His shaft stood at attention, pressing up against his flat stomach. He palmed and slowly stroked…up to the head, down to his balls, back to the head. Slowly, he let his fingers graze the underside.

  “Oh hell, no!” He pulled his hand away. He’d jerked off enough in prison to be blind for life. He didn’t want to do that anymore. Only a few miles separated him from the hottest woman he’d ever known. He wanted Mary Beth, needed her.

  Loved her.

  His mind spun. Did he really think what he just thought he did? Did he really admit that he loved her?

  He’d arrived in Truckee an angry, vengeful man, ready to cause Mary Beth Hunter as much pain as she’d caused him. Now he couldn’t wait to tell her he loved her.

  He blew out a long, confused breath. Tonight he’d proved to himself that he could blend into her world. On Wednesday, he’d prove it to her when he worked Marty’s party.

  The hardest part was convincing himself to wait until Wednesday when he wanted her now, right this minute.

  He opened his cell phone. Shit! He didn’t know her phone number. He’d probably find it in Leandra’s office, but he’d seen the café go dark before he went to bed. He paced awhile, then finally pushed one of the chairs out of his way and headed for his closet. If Marty’s fancy car was parked in her drive, he’d go to Plan B—not that he’d even made up Plan A yet. He had to see her tonight. This couldn’t wait.

  His leather jacket zipped tightly, Rico took off into the night. He knew all the shortcuts by heart, and that the wildlife that lived in Mary Beth’s forest would scamper away at the sound of his bike.

  A few days ago, he’d found a rise several hundred yards from her place with a bird’s-eye view of the back entry. He cut the engine when he neared it and coasted toward the highest point. He checked his watch. Twenty past midnight, yet light still poured through the cracks in the shutters on the windows.

  The weather forecast said no new snow until the weekend. That must be why she’d left her SUV at the walkway instead of pulling it into the garage.

  Rico climbed back aboard the bike and wound his way down her drive. Didn’t matter to him whether Trinidad was there or not. He had to see Mary Beth, and he had to see her now.

  *

  Mary Beth was used to her family of cats signaling visitors were on their way. A few minutes ago, they’d awakened from deep slumber and now sat like statues, alert, ready for whoever dared near their door.

  “What do you hear, Ruskie?” she asked the Russian Blue who sat the tallest, his tail whipping back and forth.

  Seconds later she heard the sound of an engine. Not Marty’s smooth purring luxury car, but something and someone much more in-your-face.

  Rico.

  Her hands flew to her hair. She ripped off the scrunchie, bent from the waist and flipped her hair forward and back. She’d cried off her makeup hours ago and knew she looked a mess in her baggy sweats, no bra, and an old pair of striped woolen leg warmers. But damn it all to hell, it was his fault. Maybe if Rico saw her this way, looking like a rode-hard raccoon, he’d hop on his hog and head back to Queens tonight.

  Mary Beth tugged on the bottom of her sweatshirt, fluffed her hair one last time and headed for the door.

  She’d spent the afternoon thinking about the cards Leandra had laid out for her, and the two men who stood most prominently in her life. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she saw something changing in Marty. He looked at her differently…not the kind of lusty signal he’d sent when they first met, but something deeper, more meaningful. The kind of look she’d expect from a soul mate, not a client and casual friend.

  The look she wanted to see from Rico, not from Marty.

  The cards had said it all this afternoon. Leandra knew it, and Mary Beth knew it too, even though she’d run out denying it.

  The first time they were together, when their lovemaking was urgent and violent, Rico had hooked her. Day or night, when she least expected it, the desire to make love to him overwhelmed her.

  They had no chance as a couple. Were miles apart in everything. To cut their ties, now, tonight, would be the kindest thing to do for both of them.

  Would she? Could she? Rico Zanini owned her body…and her peace of mind.

  She heard his footsteps crunching on the snow and gravel leading toward the walkway. He hesitated a few feet from the door. She wondered if he’d turn around and go back.

  A moment later, his fist tapped lightly against the metal storm door. She stood as still as the cats, until he began pounding on the metal.

  She opened the door only wide enough to see his face. “It’s late.”

  “I’m sorry. I had to see you.”

  “About what?”

  He moved a step closer. “Can I come in?”

  She hesitated. Letting him in meant she’d not only opened the door to her home to him, but to her heart as well. Her stomach churned and her heartbeat quickened. He held her gaze. As the moment grew longer, she saw his confidence waver.

  “Please, Mary Beth.”

  Finally Mary Beth stepped back and opened the door all the way.

  She walked ahead of him, listening to his boot heels strike the plank floor. Her mind spun with a jumble of thoughts. They had so much to say to each other. Neither one of them seemed to know where to begin.

  “Mary Beth, stop—”

  “There’s coffee from dinner.” The words flew out of her. “I can reheat it, or would you rather—”

  He clamped his hand on her arm. Shivers and gooseflesh hummed on her skin. He was forcing her to look at him.

  “Stop talking, please? Just listen to me.”

  She’d made it as far as the stove, turned slowly, and leaned back against it. “I’m listening.” They stood a few inches apart. She saw how the bright lighting in the kitchen emphasized the worry on his face but also the resolve in his eyes.

  “Mary Beth, you know me better than anyone.”

  “I don’t,” she whispered. “I don’t know you at all. I know the man I met in the courtroom, and I know the man my friends hired.” She reached up and touched his cheek. His skin felt soft beneath her fingertips. “You’re not either of them anymore, Rico.”

  He nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Then who are you? Show me the man you are now.”

  Mary Beth slid into the warmth of his arms. The leather of his jacket felt cool to the touch, its fragrance a mixture of the outdoors and the scent of a male. She pressed against him. His cock responded instantly,
much like the murmur of desire that pulsed in the soft spot between her thighs. She stood on tiptoes and laced her fingers at the back of his neck, the tip of her tongue eager to taste the thin sheen of sweat forming on his upper lip. There’d be time for talking later. They needed to talk to each other with their bodies now.

  To Mary Beth’s surprise, Rico released her and took a step back even though the fly on his jeans tented enough to fill the space he’d left between them. He buried his hands in her hair and rested his forehead against hers. His voice sounded husky, his words urgent. “I’m sorry, Mary Beth. We can’t make love. Not until we talk.”

  She didn’t believe what she heard. What man wanted to talk when he held a ready and eager woman in his arms? Only Rico Zanini. Until now, she didn’t know it was possible to be thrilled and disappointed at the same time. She sighed and nodded.

  Resigned, she took his hand and led him to the table. In a gesture she thought had died with chivalry, he held her chair while she sat down. He dragged another chair to within inches of her. He didn’t bother to turn it forward, just plopped into it and sat with his chin resting on his fists on the chair back. She could almost see the wheels spinning in his mind. His eyes sparkled with new confidence. She didn’t dare smile although she wanted to.

  “Mary Beth…” he started, stopped, then started again after clearing his throat. “It took nearly seven months to find you. I couldn’t get here fast enough. I didn’t care how long it took, or what I’d have to pay for doing it, I came here to hurt you. I planned to set you up so you’d be accused of a crime. I wanted you to know what it was like to have your reputation trashed, your career ruined. I wanted you to suffer just like I did, and I wanted you to know I caused it.”

  Whoosh! She’d guessed as much. Hearing him say it left her breathless. She went cold inside and her head spun from the sudden drop in her blood pressure. “Whoa!” she managed.