by Diana Palmer
The thought kept her awake late into the night.
She dreamed about the hot kiss they’d shared on his balcony as well. She’d always been a sensible, practical sort of person. But when Marcus Carrera touched her, she lost her head completely and became someone else. She’d never understood why women gave up their principles and slept with men before they were married. But it was becoming clear that sometimes physical attraction overran caution. Her body throbbing, she felt stirrings that she’d never experienced in her life. She could barely stand to have the sheet touch her body, she was so feverish with just the memories. Marcus’s body close to hers, his big hands flat on her back, his mouth biting into hers hungrily. She actually moaned. It was dangerous for her to see him again, because she wanted him with a blind, mindless passion. She knew already that she couldn’t resist him if he put on the heat. And he might be as helpless to stop it as she already was.
She was very curious about sex. Her mother had been reticent and reluctant to even talk about it, just like Barb. But Delia had friends who indulged, and they told her the most shocking things about men and women in bed together. She thought of Marcus that way and her body ached for him.
She knew that if he asked her out, she’d go with him as often as he liked. She’d lived in a cocoon all her life, without refusing to do whatever she was told. But she was twenty-three now, and already falling in love with that big, dark man from the casino. For once, she was going to do what pleased her, and she’d live with whatever consequences there were. She wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life alone without even one sweet memory to cherish in her old age. And if she had to go against Barb to do that, she was willing. It was, after all, her life.
When Delia woke, she felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. She couldn’t believe that Marcus was a killer, no matter what anyone said. He had been tender with her, generous, kind. Surely a gangster wouldn’t have been so accommodating to a perfect stranger.
But what did she know about gangsters? She was a small-town girl with no knowledge of people with mob connections, except by gossip. There had been some excitement in Jacobsville, Texas, over the past few years. A drug lord had decided to build a distribution center there, and a group of local mercenaries had stopped him. A local girl had been kidnapped in revenge and taken to the drug lord’s home in Mexico, and her stepbrother had rescued her. There had even been a shooting when Christabel Gaines and her guardian Judd Dunn had run afoul of a murderer; Christabel had been shot by one of the notorious Clark brothers, who had killed a young woman up around Victoria. Clark was now serving a life sentence without hope of parole.
But other than those episodes, Jacobsville was mostly a quiet place to live. Delia lived in a cocoon of kind people and rustic charm. She was unsophisticated, not really pretty, and rather shy.
So, why, she wondered, would a rich, worldly man like Marcus Carrera even want to take her sightseeing. If he was as rich as Barney said he was, surely he could get any sort of women he liked—beautiful women, talented women, famous women. Why would he want to take Delia out? Maybe he was desperate for company? She laughed at that thought. But then she remembered the torrid kiss they’d shared, and her heart raced. Perhaps he felt the same way she did. It didn’t have a lot to do with looks, social position or wealth. Nobody could explain physical attraction, after all.
That fiery passion was unsettling to a woman who’d never felt it in her life. She couldn’t even consider an affair, she told herself. And he didn’t seem to be a marrying man. Surely if he’d wanted to marry, he’d have done it, at his age.
There was another consideration—if she was going to go against her own best instincts and go out with him, she’d have to lie to Barb. She’d never done that in her life. Barb had loved her, sacrificed for her, taken care of her even more than her own mother had. In all honesty, she loved Barb more than she’d loved her poor mother. But the alternative was to forget Marcus and stand him up. Her heart ached at just the thought of not seeing him again. This sudden hunger to be with him, to hold him, to kiss him was overpowering. She couldn’t bear to stand him up. Even after only a brief meeting, her eyes ached for the sight of him.
She told herself that she was an idiot. But she was going to meet him, no matter what the consequences. She couldn’t help herself.
In the end, her fears of Barb seeing her with him in the lobby evaporated when Barney had an emergency call about his business back home. His headquarters was in New York, but he was opening a new hotel in Miami, and there were major problems with the contractor who was building it. The man had walked off the job, with his entire crew, after an argument with one of Barney’s vice presidents. Barney was going to have to fly there and solve the problem. Barb, who was in charge of the interior design for the building, would necessarily have to go as well, since the contractor had been authorized to supply the materials she required.
“I hate leaving you here alone, baby,” Barb said worriedly. “Would you like to fly down to Miami with us while we sort this out?”
Delia thought fast. “I think I’d rather stay here, if you don’t mind,” she said. “I really wanted to get in some sunbathing on the beach.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Barb persisted.
“She’s a grown woman, for God’s sake. You’re only her sister, not her mama,” Barney said furiously.
Barb flushed. “Well, I worry!” she defended. “What about Fred?” she added.
“Fred’s gone to Miami, too, for the week,” Barney muttered, searching for his wallet. “I didn’t know he had business interests there,” he said with an odd smile.
“There!” Delia said, relieved. “That solves the problem.”
Barb was frowning. “You aren’t going off with Carrera anywhere, are you?” she asked suspiciously.
Delia managed to look dumbfounded. “Chance would be a fine thing!” she exclaimed. “I mean, look at me,” she added, spreading her arms wide. “Tell me why a man that rich would look twice at a plain, nobody of a seamstress from a little town in Texas?”
“You are not plain!” Barb argued. “The right clothes and makeup and you’d be a knockout. In fact, we just outfitted you, didn’t we, and you have yet to wear a single thing I bought you!”
“I will. I promise,” Delia said in a conciliatory tone.
Barb sighed. “No, you won’t. You spend your life in sweats and old shirts. In fact, you didn’t even have any shirts without pictures or writing on them until I brought you down here and took you shopping.”
“I’ll wear the new clothes,” Delia promised, and she meant it. Marcus might like her in something pretty.
“We need to talk about this,” Barb continued.
“But not right now,” Barney said impatiently, looking at his Rolex. “We have to go right now or we’ll miss our flight.”
“All right,” Barb said reluctantly. She hugged Delia. “You keep this door locked while we’re gone,” she began. Barney was opening the door and motioning to her. “Don’t open it unless you know who’s outside!”
“Yes, Barb,” Delia said automatically.
“And do not go out at night alone…” Barb continued.
Barney had her by the arm and was dragging her toward the door. She laughed. “Don’t take candy from strangers!” she called merrily. “Don’t go too near the ocean, and don’t pet stray dogs!”
“I won’t, I promise,” Delia chuckled.
“I love you!”
The door closed on the last word.
“I love you, too!” Delia called after her.
There was a skirl of laughter and then, silence.
Delia tried on three of the new outfits Barb had bought for her before she settled on a simple white peasant blouse with a lace-edged white cotton skirt and a wide magenta cotton wrap belt. She’d found the outfit in one of the local stores and the saleslady, an elegant tall woman, had showed her how to wrap the belt around her waist several times and tuck it in. The result was very c
hic, especially with Delia’s small waist.
She was vibrating with nervous energy and indecision about her choice when the phone rang and made her jump. She ran to answer it.
“Yes?” she said at once.
There was a deep chuckle, as if he knew she’d been sitting on hot coals waiting for him and was pleased by it. “I’m in the lobby,” he said.
“I’ll be right down.”
She hung up and darted to the door, only then realizing that she was barefoot and had forgotten both her purse and the room key. With a rueful laugh at her own forgetfulness, she ran back to get her shoes and purse and key.
Eight breathless minutes later, she arrived in the luxurious lobby, having spent five minutes waiting for the elevator.
She stepped out into the lobby and looked around worriedly for Marcus. And there he was, lounging against the wall opposite the bank of elevators, lazily elegant and smiling.
He was wearing a green knit shirt with brown slacks. He looked big and expensive and sexy.
He was looking, too, his dark eyes intent on her trim figure and especially her wealth of long, wavy blond hair that she’d left cascading down to her waist in back.
He smiled then, warmly, and she went straight to him, almost colliding with another hotel guest she didn’t even see, causing amused glances from passersby.
“Hi,” she said huskily.
“Hi,” he returned, his voice deep and soft. “Ready to go?”
She thought about the risks she was taking, the danger she could be in, the anger and betrayal that Barb was going to feel. But nothing mattered except that look in his dark eyes. She threw caution and reason to the winds.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Chapter Four
Marcus could hardly believe this was the same shy, conservative woman he’d met only the night before. She looked exciting in that lacy white thing, with her long hair down. He’d had second thoughts about involving her in his life when it was in flux, but in the end, he hadn’t had a choice. It had been pure luck that Fred had chosen to bring her along to the meeting they didn’t get to have. She was Barney’s sister-in-law and that gave him a connection to a badly needed contact. He could pass a message along in a very innocent way, through a woman he could pretend to be interested in. The fly in the ointment was Barbara, Delia’s sister, who was not going to approve of her baby sister dating a gangster.
It was amazing, that of all the women he’d known—and there had been some beautiful ones—he honestly was interested in her. It wasn’t like him to be attracted to a small-town girl like Delia. She wasn’t his style at all. Then, too, there was the question of his past. She thought he was a security guard. She had no idea who, or what, he really was. It wasn’t fair to her to let her believe a lie. But he didn’t dare tell her the truth. She didn’t seem the sort of woman to be comfortable spending time with a gangster, even if he was reformed. And he needed her to spend time with him. For a few weeks, at least.
He reached out slowly and caught her cold, nervous fingers in his, linking them together. It was like touching a live wire. Her hand jerked in his, as if she, too, felt the electricity. Her breath caught audibly. She winced when she realized that he knew exactly what she was feeling.
“Don’t look like that,” he said in a deep, velvet tone, moving closer. “I feel it, too.”
“I haven’t slept,” she choked, lost in his eyes.
“Neither have I,” he replied curtly. He studied her perfect complexion, the faint flush on her cheeks a dead giveaway of her turmoil. “Where’s your sister?”
“On her way to Miami with Barney. Some sort of crisis. And Fred’s gone there, too,” she added breathlessly.
“To Miami?” He looked thoughtful.
“So Barney said. God knows why, Barney says he’s got no business interests there.”
“None that Barney knows about, maybe,” Marcus mused. He seemed distant for a moment. Then he blinked and smiled down at Delia. “I’ve got a big day planned for us. Let’s go.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
He didn’t ask any questions and she didn’t tell him about Barb’s warning about him. She was going to pretend that there were no complications. She was going to pretend she didn’t know who he was, too. This was one day she was simply going to enjoy. It might be the only one she had with him. She wasn’t going to waste it in worry.
They walked out the front door holding hands, but Mr. Smith and the limo were nowhere in sight. A cab was waiting at the entrance instead.
“I didn’t want to raise eyebrows, in case your sister had told you something about me,” he murmured.
“What would she have told me about you?” she wondered, pretending innocence.
His expression was priceless. He looked relieved. “What did you tell her?”
“That Fred assaulted me and the head of security at the hotel brought me home,” she said simply.
“Not my name?” he persisted.
She grimaced. “I didn’t think of it until it was too late…”
“Don’t think of it,” he said tersely. “I’ll explain later.”
He put her into the back of the cab and climbed in beside her. “Take us back to the Bow Tie, John,” he told the driver.
“Yes, sir,” the man said with a big grin. “You going around in disguise, huh, Mr. Carrera?”
“Big disguise, and you get a bonus for forgetting it.”
“I’m your man.”
“You can take her home tonight, as well,” he told Harry. “For another bonus.”
“I don’t know who you are, Mr. Carrera,” he said blithely. “Never met you in my life.”
Carrera chuckled. “That’s the spirit.”
“What sort of disguise does he mean?” Delia asked wryly.
“Never mind,” he replied. “I thought we’d have lunch before we go out.”
“Lovely!” she said.
He felt guilty for a minute about the game he was playing. He didn’t want to hurt her, but she gave him a connection he needed very badly. Apart from that, she appealed to him physically in a forbidden way. She was a sweet kid and he was going to spoil her a little, so she wouldn’t lose by the association with him. She didn’t ever need to know who he really was, and he didn’t plan to tell her. Not until he had to, anyway.
They passed over the bridge to Paradise Island, and in daylight she was able to see the incredible assortment of boats moored at the big marina. There were sailboats and motorboats and ferry boats, carrying people from Nassau to Paradise Island on the water instead of the road.
“Just look at all the boats!” she exclaimed, looking out the cab’s window. “There’s one with black sails!”
“He must be a pirate then, huh?” he teased, following her gaze.
She turned her head and looked straight into his eyes. She felt him, strong and warm at her back, and her whole body tensed with hunger.
He saw that, enjoyed it, savored it. She couldn’t hide anything from him. That was pleasurable, like the touch of her shoulder against his chest. His eyes darkened and he moved back abruptly. This wasn’t the place, he told himself, even if he was crazy enough to make a move on her. He had to try to remember what was at stake right now. He had to keep his mind on business, not on Delia.
The casino looked different in daylight, she thought as they got out of the cab. While Marcus was paying the fare, Delia walked over to a bank of hibiscus and touched the red blossoms with a delicate hand. She loved flowers. She had a huge garden at home, full of every sort of blooming plant. But she didn’t have hibiscus. They weren’t comfortable in her part of Texas through the winter.
“Do you like them?” Marcus asked.
She nodded. “I can’t grow them at home. The winters are too cold.”
“I thought Texas was hot.”
She chuckled. “It is, in the summer. But we actually have snow sometimes in Jacobsville in the winter, and it gets down to freezing. Tropical plants can only b
e grown in a greenhouse, and I can’t afford one.”
He reached down and picked one of the flowers, tucking it behind her ear. He smiled. “It suits you.”
She laughed self-consciously. “I’m not pretty, but you make me feel like I am. That sounds silly, I guess.”
He shook his head. He was searching her green eyes quietly, intently. She blushed, and he smiled. It amused him that she found him attractive, that she reacted to him so hungrily.
She was twenty-three. He was certain that she had some experience, at that age. He was curious to see how much. But he couldn’t rush his fences. She was going to fit nicely into the scheme of things. He had to keep her around.
He took her hand in his again. “Let’s go. I want to show you around my house.”
“You don’t live in the hotel?” she asked.
“The boss keeps a penthouse apartment there,” he said evasively. “But I like my own space.”
He led her around the grounds of the hotel to a wrought-iron gate in a white stucco fence. He unlocked it and ushered her in.
There was a huge expanse of grass and flowering shrubs and trees. Beyond it, just on the spotless beach, was a sprawling white adobe house with graceful arches and a red tiled roof.
“Wow,” she said as they approached it. The porch had white wicker furniture, and there were pots of flowers everywhere, hanging from the eaves of the house, sitting on the ceramic tile of the wide, long porch.
“Do you like it?” he asked, smiling. “I thought you might. I love flowers, too. I planted most of these as seed. A couple of the shrubs were imported. The hibiscus and oleander were already here, but I planted a few more. There’s a greenhouse, too, where I raise orchids. You can’t see the driveway from here, but it’s lined with royal palms.”
“Those are the ones with the white trunks, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Are those casuarina pines?” she added, nodding toward the trees lining the yard, near the beach. They looked like white pines, but with long fronds that waved gracefully in the breeze.