The night she got lucky sfdg-2

by Susan Donovan

  Not bad, she decided, considering her recent journey to the brink. In factGinger peered closer into the mirror to be sureher eyes had a distinct sparkle to them. Her cheeks gave off a warm glow. Her lips were downright plump and rosy. It must be a hot flash, she decided, because she hadn't had a microderm abrasion since February, and hadn't yet gotten up the nerve to have lip augmentation. In fact, she hadn't touched her makeup for hours, not since she prepared to walk down the aisle ahead of Josie.

  Ginger took one last glance in the mirror and let go with a contented sigh. Josie and Rick's ceremony had been the most beautiful wedding she'd ever witnessed, a real-life fairy tale. And, as she'd told Mrs. Needleman, she was ecstatic for Josie. Her friend had found true love with a truly good man, and there was no woman more deserving.

  There is a man waiting for you He is out there You could still get lucky

  Ginger smiled to herself at the entertaining coincidence of it all. The old lady had said those words, Ginger opened the door, and a man named Lucky was out there waiting for her. But that's all it was. A coincidence. She knew Gloria Needleman was a peculiar old lady, and Luckyno, Lucio was his real namewas just an old friend of Rick's who'd photographed the wedding. She wouldn't give it any more credence than that. Ginger didn't have time for a silly fantasy, no matter how tall, dark, and hot he was.

  Or what a stupendous kisser he was.

  Or how his accent melted her insides.

  Or the way a strange crackle of electricity shot through her skin when he touched her.

  Her friends were talking quietly when Ginger returned to the room, and by the way they abruptly ended their conversation, Ginger figured she'd been the topic.

  Are you sure you're all right? Roxanne asked. You want to file charges?

  Ginger shook her head. My dress was too tight and I fainted. He came to my aid. There's no crime in that.

  Bea rolled her eyes dramatically. Looks like the buffet is officially open!

  I can take care of myself, you know, Ginger said, shaking her head with amusement. Besides, I thought we learned our lesson about butting into other people's businessour interference almost ruined Josie's life! And here you are, ready to do the same with me? Am I going to find you two under the tree outside my window, like we did to Josie?

  Roxanne's mouth opened, insulted. You were just as much a part of that as we were, and you know we had only the best intentions.

  Yeah, Bea said. And I still believe there's a fine line between butting into someone's business and making sure a dear friend doesn't commit the hugest mistake of her life.

  You're twenty years late on that one, Ginger said with a laugh, opening the door for them. Where were you the night I met Larry Garrison at a fraternity kegger?

  Ginger's friends entered the hallway, but Roxanne turned around, narrowing her eyes. You're going to go after Lucio, aren't you?

  Ginger shrugged. If I happen to see him before we leave tomorrow, I'll thank him. But I'm not going to make a big deal of it.

  Oh, Lord, Bea said, rolling her eyes again.

  Ginger smiled. See you for dinner about seven.

  Once alone, Ginger turned off the lamp by the bed and went to the open balcony doors. Evening had fallen. The breeze was cooler. The last moments of sunlight had cast a pale orange glow on the vineyards and gardens. Ginger stepped to the railing and inhaled the richly scented air. That's when she saw him.

  Lucio stood quietly on the lawn near the stone wall, in profile, again with one hand in his pocket. He didn't move, but Ginger could tell by the set of his shoulders and the slope of his neck that he carried a burden. He looked worriedworried that she'd press charges, no doubt. Ginger decided to put the man out of his misery. She'd go down there and talk to him.

  CHAPTER 2

  Lucio had strolled across the lawn to the spot under the live oaks where, just hours ago, his friend Rick Rousseau had taken his wedding vows with a sweet and funny newspaper obituary writer named Josie Sheehan. It was a turn of events Lucio would never have predicted for his old running buddy, but, as he well knew, few things in life go the way we envision. His current situation was proof of that.

  Lucio took a seat on the thick stone wall dividing the lawn from the gardens, then situated himself so that he faced west. The light here reminded him of home, the magical hills between Spain's highest mountains and the Mediterranean, with its fig trees and flowers, lemons and pomegranates, all that decadent bounty. He'd been gone nearly twenty years and had long ago acquired U.S. citizenship, but that sunny valley by the sea was the only true home he'd ever known, and would likely remain so. He'd used San Francisco as his base of operations for many years, but he was here so rarely it no longer even made sense to keep an apartment.

  Lucio raised one knee and propped an arm on it, smiling to himself. Yes, Ginger Garrison was a beautiful woman, and it had been a real pleasure to have her in his arms and under his lips. But a woman was the last thing he should be concerned about. He'd come to San Francisco on the most serious of errandswinning back his reputation and rebuilding his careerand a woman could not possibly aid him in either pursuit. Wasn't his weakness for women at least partially to blame for his present circumstances?

  Lucio shook his head. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

  He'd already been in town three months, sleeping on a friend's couch or in his agent's guest room until Rick blew him away with kindness and offered Lucio the use of his house in town while he and Josie were on their honeymoon. Then, just before the wedding earlier that day, Rick had told Lucio that the house was his for as long as he needed it, because the couple had decided to make the wine-country ranch their full-time home. Lucio had been speechless.

  Someday I will repay you for your generosity, he'd told Rick.

  His longtime friend put his arm around his shoulder and said there was no need. You were there for me when I needed you, Lucky. This is what friends do for each other.

  Lucio recalled how touched he was by Rick's offer, and chuckled softly to himself. They were no longer the wild boys they once were, cutting a swath through the continents in pursuit of adventure and pleasureand, for Lucio at least, an occasional paycheck. They had both made many mistakes in those years and the ones that followed. They had learned some hard lessons. And they had both come to appreciate the true value of friendship.

  As it turned out, Rick's Pacific Heights home was luxurious and convenient to everything Lucio needed. His agent lived only four blocks east in the same exclusive San Francisco neighborhood, much to the man's chagrin.

  I will do everything in my power for you, as always, Sydney Frankel told him the last time they'd talked. But I am only human.

  And the house was just a short trolley ride away from Lucio's friend and fellow photographer Piers Skaarsgard, who'd lent him his couch for weeks on end. It had been especially generous of Piers considering the fact that Piers's wife had died of leukemia just months before.

  It's good to have another beating heart in the place again, Piers had said to Lucio his first night in the apartment. Stay as long as you'd like.

  Lucio sighed. The rich and rewarding life he'd built for himself over twenty years was gone. It had collapsed'se derrumbothat was the only word he could use to describe it. Instantly, he'd gone from the peak of his success to piecing together a day-to-day existence.

  Just months ago he was finishing an assignment in the northern deserts of China, chronicling the effect of pollution and climate change on the region's wildlife. He had finalized travel plans for his next assignment, to Galapagos. And he'd recently learned he'd won the prestigious Erskine Prize for achievement in nature photography. He began to make travel plans to be in New York in December for the ceremony, where he'd be handed a check for a quarter of a million in U.S. dollars.

  And then it all came crashing down.

  First, some of his raw digital video went missing. Soon after, the U.S. embassy in Beijing sent word that Lucio was in danger of being deported. The missing video
had been leaked to the Chinese government, which found the images shameful, and in Lucio's opinion, they should have. At first, the Chinese claimed Lucio's work was hostile to the People's Republic. Days later, the Chinese amped up their claim, calling Lucio's work an act of espionage intended to weaken the country's international standing. Two additional details made the mess even messier: About fifty thousand in Geographica funds had been drained from Lucio's expense account, and word got out that Lucio had been bedding his official Chinese guide, the thirty-year-old daughter of a high-ranking government official, and the man went nuts over the shame his daughter had brought to him.

  Days of in-person and Internet meetings followed. Lucio admitted it; he lost his cool a few times with the Chinese, the American consulate, and with his Geographica editorsbut the accusations were pure insanity! Lucio vehemently denied charges of spying and stealing the money from his own expense account. It was all rubbish.

  Nobody seemed to listen. Before he knew it, he was kicked out of the country and released from his Geographica contract, putting an end to a long and profitable professional alliance.

  Piers encouraged Lucio to come back to San Francisco. That's what Lucio didwith his tail between his legs and his wallet openready to funnel every dime he had to his lawyer, who he prayed would untangle the string of misunderstandings. But that had been three months ago. With each day, it seemed to Lucio that the nickname he'd carried since childhood no longer fit him.

  He shook his head and rose from the stone wall, deciding to stroll into the heavily scented gardens of Rick's Sonoma Valley paradise. It was funny how life sometimes doubled in on itself. He was thousands of miles from the fig trees and strawberry patches of his childhood, but this place smelled much the same to him, and the scent had conjured up long-buried memories.

  Alma had worn a simple ivory lace dress that fell to mid-calf, accented by an angry scowl. She carried a bouquet of wildflowers in front of her belly, camouflaging the baby that grew inside it. Lucio recalled how his throat had tightened at the sight of herand it wasn't out of joy. Unlike Rick and Josie's ceremony, his own wedding hadn't been about love. Or even family alliances. It was simply the only choice given to two hormonal kids who'd shucked their common senseand their clotheson a hot spring night at the riverbank.

  The truth was that when Alma lost the baby just weeks after the wedding, Lucio was relieved. She blamed him, of course. He was the one who had dragged her to the ugly, dirty, crowded city and was too busy with his studies to take care of her. Her brothers came to Seville to fetch her back to their village. The annulment papers came within a month.

  At the time, Lucio felt as if he'd dodged a bullet. The life he planned would not have been possible with a wife and child.

  But lately, Lucio would find himself stopping in the middle of a shoot or waking in the deep of night, overcome with the truth: If the child had lived, his son would be a man now. Lucio would be father to a tall, handsome, and ambitious young man, who might even have an eye for the light like his renowned father. But he would never know.

  Lucio?

  He turned, surprised to see Ginger Garrison approaching him in the twilight. She'd changed out of her satin and chiffon and into a pretty knee-length skirt and simple top. Her hair was down. She wore no jewelry, and she didn't need it. Her cheeks were flushed. Her pretty little toes peeped out of a pair of delicate sandals.

  He stared at her. The strange energy he'd felt when he kissed her had returned, making his skin tingle. Lucio watched as the beautiful woman moved closer, her shoulder brushing against a stand of tall gardenias, releasing their perfume. Ginger smiled at him. It was a shy smile from a mature woman, and the beguiling power of that combination pierced his heart.

  Nothing good would come of this. He was certain. The timing was all wrong. Holy Host! He was all wrong! Ginger Garrison deserved a stable man, a man with his own home and money in the bank, a man who wouldn't be on a plane to Galapagos the instant it became feasible.

  But he returned her smile, because those details had never stopped him in the past, and they wouldn't now. As always, Lucio's only obligation was to issue his standard word of caution, leaving the woman responsible for her own fate.

  Unfortunately, I am no good for you, guapa.

  Lucio's words stopped Ginger cold. She choked on her surprise. Did this man think she'd come down to the garden to hit on him? While his presumptuousness offended her, he probably had his reasons for saying it.

  Lucio Montevez was an intoxicating man, a deadly combination of brawn and beauty. He had an edge Ginger imagined a bullfighter would possessan intense gaze, perfect posture, muscles coiled and ready to spring to lifeall while oozing the velvety charm of a gigolo. She could see this dichotomy repeated everywhere in him, each smooth and elegant thing about Lucio balanced out by something over-the-top macho. His big brown eyes were liquid and sultry, but they were capped by a thick, dramatic brow. His mouth was full and sexy, but framed by rough-looking stubble on his upper lip, cheeks, and chin. His wavy dark hair was long and thick, but combed back, close to his perfectly shaped head. He walked with grace, but was tall and muscular. Ginger figured all this would be too much for the average female to resist, and women probably lined up around the block to get a peek at him wherever he went.

  Ginger took a moment to remind herself that she'd always been above average.

  I'm afraid you misunderstand me, she said, her voice as friendly as she could make it. I just came to thank you for your help today and discuss with you when we might schedule the photo sitting.

  The what? Lucio cocked his head quizzically.

  Before the wedding ceremony you told me you took nature photographs. I asked if you'd take a portrait of me and my bichon and you said you'd be happy to.

  I did?

  Was this some kind of joke? Ginger put her hands on her hips and frowned. Yes, you did. You told me you were interested in expanding your business into weddings and pet portraits.

  Ahh. Lucio had up until that point kept his body turned to the vineyards while looking over his shoulder to address Ginger. He decided to face her square on, and a smile escaped his lips as he turned. Of course I did. It's all coming back to me now.

  Ginger rolled her eyes. So that was just a crock of shit, some kind of pickup line you use?

  Lucio laughed. His laugh was hearty and loose, and it traveled up into the breeze. He was obviously a man who liked to laugh, and his enjoyment was contagious. Ginger would have laughed along with him if she weren't so angry.

  It is not a crock, precisely, but I must admit I stretched the truth in order to have a conversation with you.

  Ginger sighed. She was getting a bad feeling about this guy. It was never a good sign when a man stretched the truth at the first meeting, since, in her experience, truth-stretching was only one tiny step away from outright lying. So you're not really a professional photographer?

  He flashed a big, white smile. I am, bonita, but my subject has been the larger scope of nature along with an occasional yak or Komodo dragon. The small domesticated lapdogsnot so much.

  Ginger felt her blood rising. Not only was he messing with her, he was enjoying it. Then why did you offer to take a picture of me and HeatherLynn? She took a step closer, feeling the garden shadows envelop them. And, better yet, why were you taking pictures of Josie and Rick's ceremony today? Sonoma Valley isn't exactly the yak capital of the world.

  Lucio laughed again, holding out his hand to her. Would you care to take a walk with me?

  Ginger stepped back instinctively. I'm going to dinner with my friends soon.

  Ah, then we will make it a short walk.

  It's getting dark. She swallowed hard, feeling that strange pull of energy between them once more. It was almost as if she feared touching him againbecause the spark would be impossible to resist.

  Lucio smiled gently. Please understand that when I said I am no good for you just now, I meant that I cannot recommend myself as a boyfriend.
/>   Ginger's eyes went wide.

  However, I would never hurt you. You will be safe on a friendly walk with me. The warmth of Lucio's smile intensified as he continued to hold his hand out to her.

  Ginger crossed her arms protectively over her chest. I'm not in the market for a boyfriend, Mr. Montevez, and if I were, you would not be my choice. I try to avoid men who stretch the truth.

  Lucio nodded silently. His hand fell to his side.

  Besides, I'm simply interested in having a professional portrait taken of me and my dog. I'll find someone in the Yellow Pages to do it.

  Ginger was about to turn and go when Lucio stepped in close, his dark eyes shimmering with what little light remained. I stand corrected then, Senora Garrison. Please forgive my insolence.

  Ginger pursed her lips and tried to evade the pull of his dramatic eyes. All right, she said.

  So, you will come with me now, yes? Lucio's hand rose from his side once more, palm up, as if to show the harmless nature of his offer. We will walk and I will tell you how I came to be taking pictures at my friend Rick's wedding, and you can tell me more about the charming and pretty Josie, his bride. And then we will say good-bye.

  It was one of those moments that seemed disconnected from clock time. Ginger had no idea how long she stood there, her gaze alternating between Lucio's warm eyes and his outstretched hand, weighing the pros and cons of his offer. Who was she fooling? She already knew in her heart that this wasn't about a portrait sittingthis was about him.

  She'd been fascinated by the man the second she'd spotted him milling about the lawn, taking candid photos of the wedding guests prior to the ceremony, pounds of heavy-looking camera gear slung around his neck and shoulders. He seemed dark and mysterious. Exotic. Languid and sexy, despite all the equipment. He had reminded her of a panther, sleek and dark, as he moved across the grass.

  Dr. Larry Garrison he was not.