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She smiled. “That would be nice.”
He glanced back at her. “It might not be, when you know more about me,” he said, and he was suddenly very solemn.
“That isn’t likely.”
“You’re an optimist. I’m not.”
“Yes, I noticed,” she teased.
He chuckled as he opened the door to let her out into the hall.
Mr. Smith was waiting beside a huge black super stretch limousine in front of the hotel and nightclub.
Delia actually gasped. “You can’t mean to drive me back in that!” she exclaimed. “Your boss will fire you!”
“Unlikely,” Marcus said, with a speaking glance at Smith, who was trying not to laugh out loud. “Get in.”
She whistled softly as she slid onto the leather seat and moved to the center, to give him room to get in.
Smith closed the back door and went to the driver’s seat.
Delia was stagestruck. She looked around wide-eyed, fascinated by the luxurious interior. “You could go bowling in here!”
“It’s nice when you’re ferrying around a crowd of tourists,” he stated. “Want something to drink?”
He indicated the bar, where a bottle of champagne and several bottles of beer and soft drinks were chilling in ice.
She shook her head. “No, thanks. Is that television?!” she added, indicating a flat screen just in front of her near the ceiling.
“Satellite television, satellite radio, CD player, phone…”
“It’s incredible,” she said softly. “Just incredible!”
“Your sister’s married to a millionaire,” he pointed out. “Don’t you get to ride in limos?”
She shook her head. “There wouldn’t be any need for her to drive down to Jacobsville in one. They fly to San Antonio and rent a car. At home, they’ve got a Jaguar sports car.”
“I thought you might visit her and ride in limos,” he teased.
“In New York?” she asked. She shook her head. “We’d usually go down to Galveston together for vacation on the beach. I’ve never been to New York, and since Barney travels so much and Barb goes with him, they’re rarely home. I don’t even go up to San Antonio unless I have to, when I buy supplies. I’m very much at home in the little house I shared with Mama. We have a handful of chickens and a dog named Sam.”
“Who’s looking after them?”
“A neighbor,” she said. “Although, Sam’s being boarded. He’s bad to get in the road. You have to watch him constantly.”
“What breed is he?”
She smiled. “He’s a German shepherd—black with brown markings. I’ve had him for eight years. He’s a sweetie.”
“Any cats?”
She shook her head. “Mama was allergic. We couldn’t even have Sam in the house.”
Smith was pulling out into the main road that led over the bridge to Nassau. Marcus leaned back against the soft leather of the seat. “I’ve never seen a chicken close up, except on television,” he remarked.
She grinned. “Come to Texas and I’ll let you pet one.”
“You can pet a chicken?”
“Of course you can,” she said, laughing.
He liked the sound of her laughter. It had been a long time since he’d done much of that. His life was lonely and dangerous, and he had a natural suspicion of people. He’d seen women who looked like virginal innocents roll a man and take everything he had.
“Why were you at the club in the first place?” he asked unexpectedly.
She sighed. “Because Fred said he wanted to talk some business with the manager of the casino and we might as well go there as anyplace else on the island. But he got cold feet and started drinking.” She was oblivious to the look on Marcus’s leonine face. “He’s mixed up in something illegal, I think, and there are some people he’s dealing with who want to hurt him.” She bit her lip as she looked up at Marcus. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. The owner of the casino’s your boss, right?”
“Sort of,” he confessed.
“Well, Fred kept throwing back hard liquor until he could hardly stand up. I wanted to go back to my hotel by then, because he was getting really out of hand. I had to fend him off in the taxi, and when we got to the club, I was going to go inside and call a taxi to take me back. But Fred got angry when I said that, and reminded me that he’d bought me an expensive dinner. He said I owed him a little fun,” she added coldly. She grasped her purse tight in her hands and glanced at Marcus. “I guess I’ve led a pretty sheltered life until now. Do men really expect a woman to have sex with them just because they buy her a meal? Because if that’s the way of it, I’m buying my own dinners from now on!”
Her expression amused him. He laughed softly. “Well, I can only speak for myself, but I’ve never considered a steak currency for sex.”
She smiled in spite of her irritation. “It shows that I don’t date much, huh?” she said matter-of-factly. “Even after I was in high school, I had to fight Barb and mother to get to go out with a man. Mother would call Barb if anyone asked me on a date. They said men were devious and they’d say all sorts of things to get you into bed with them, and then they’d leave you pregnant and desert you.” She shook her head. “God knows where they got those ideas. Barb married Barney just after high school graduation, and Mother didn’t go out with anybody at all after Daddy died.”
“She didn’t?” he asked abruptly, surprised.
“She was sort of old-fashioned, I guess. She said she and Daddy were so happy together that any other man she dated would fall short of that perfection. So she spent her time doing charity work and raising me.”
“I didn’t think there were any women like that left in the world,” he said honestly.
“What was your mother like?”
He smiled slowly. “She was the kind of woman who kissed cuts and bruises and made homemade cookies for her kids. She worked herself half to death to give us the things we had to have for school,” he added, his face taut.
“Was she pretty?”
“What a question. Why?”
“Well, you’re very good-looking,” she said, and then flushed as she realized she might be overstepping boundaries.
He chuckled. “Thanks. I think you look pretty good, too.”
“Oh, I’m plain,” she replied. “I don’t have any illusions about being beautiful. But I can cook, and I’m a fair seamstress.”
He reached out and touched a loose strand of her blond hair, contemplating the high coiffure she wore it in. “How long is your hair?” he asked suddenly.
“It’s to my waist in back,” she said self-consciously. “My boss at the dry cleaner where I do alterations says I look like Alice in Wonderland with it down, so I keep it in a bun or a ponytail most of the time.”
“You don’t cut it, then?”
She shook her head. “I look terrible with short hair,” she said. “Like a boy.”
Both thick eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”
She shifted on the seat. “I’m rather bosom-challenged.”
He burst out laughing.
She was really blushing, now. “I can’t think of a better way to put it,” she confessed. “But it’s the truth.”
His dark eyes were kind and indulgent. “Men have individual tastes in women,” he said. “I come from a background where women have ample curves. They say it’s what we’re not used to that attracts us, and that’s how it is with me.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending.
“I don’t like women with ample…bosoms,” he explained.
She just looked at him, her eyes wide and hopeful. “You…don’t?”
He shook his head. “And I’ve never met a woman who kept chickens until now, much less one who knew a Bow Tie pattern from a Dresden Plate.”
She smiled. “I’ve never met a bouncer who could quilt before,” she replied.
He chuckled. Let her keep her illusions. He’d never said what he did for a living on that quilt show he was on, or even in the competitions. He just said he was a Chicago businessman. He was enjoying this anonymity. It was rare for anyone not to recognize at least his name, if not his face.
“Would you like to see Blackbeard’s Tower?”
Her lips parted. “Blackbeard, the pirate?” she asked.
“The very one.” He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “He’s not there.”
She laughed. “That’s all right, I’d rather see it without his ghost,” She twisted her purse in her hands. “When?” she asked, without looking at him.
He hesitated. He had a meeting that he didn’t really want to attend. Of course, he’d have to go. “I’ve got a lunch appointment. How about somewhere between one and two o’clock tomorrow?”
Her wide eyes lifted to his, radiant and happy. “I’d like that,” she said huskily.
“I’ll call for you in the lobby.”
She smiled. “Okay!”
He hesitated. “You may hear some things about me when Fred tells your sister what happened,” he told her. “Try not to believe them. Or at least, wait and make up your own mind when you get to know me a little better. Okay?”
She was curious, but she smiled. “Okay.”
“One more thing,” he added, when Smith was pulling up into the circular driveway that led to the hotel entrance. “If Fred calls you a liar and says it didn’t happen—and he might—you tell your sister and brother-in-law that I’ve got a tape of it and they’re welcome to look at it any time they like. It would stand in any court of law.”
“You think I should have Fred arrested?” she exclaimed.
He was torn between what was right and what he was bound to do. He couldn’t afford to have Fred in jail right now. “No,” he lied. “But you shouldn’t go out alone with him again.”
“I don’t plan to,” she assured him.
Smith was opening the door. Tourists standing inside the glass doors were gaping at the huge black limousine.
“They probably think we’re rock stars,” she said with twinkling light eyes.
“Let them think what they like. You’re sure you’re okay?” he added.
She nodded. Her eyes caressed his broad face. “Thanks. For everything.”
He shrugged. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Between one and two, in the lobby,” she agreed.
Smith held out a hand and helped her out on the passenger side of the huge vehicle. He grinned at her.
She flushed, because she was still nervous of him, and it showed.
“Well, good night,” she said to Marcus.
He smiled. “Good night, angel.”
She walked on clouds all the way into the hotel, past staring tourists, and straight into the elevator.
Barb was beside herself when Delia used the key to let herself into the suite.
Her blond hair was mussed from her busy, beautifully manicured fingers. “Baby, where have you been?” she exclaimed, rushing forward to hug Delia half to death. “Oh, I’ve been so worried! Fred came back with this wild tale about your being kidnapped by some gangster…!”
“Fred tried to assault me outside the casino in a dark corner,” Delia said angrily, and she pointed to her cheek. “When I wouldn’t cooperate, he slapped me!”
Barb gasped.
Barney, her husband, came into the room in an evening jacket. His balding head shone in the overhead light and his dark eyes narrowed. “So you’re finally back! Fred was worried sick…”
“Fred assaulted me,” Delia began again.
“Now, baby, you know that’s not true,” Barney said, his voice softening. “Fred told me you got a little upset because he was just slightly tipsy…”
“Look at my cheek!” she raged. “I wouldn’t let him have sex with me, so he slapped me, as hard as he could!”
Barney hesitated, and his dark eyes began to glitter. “Fred said the owner of the casino gave you that bruise,” Barney said, but with less confidence and growing anger.
“There’s a videotape of the entire incident,” she said curtly. “And the head of security for the hotel says you’re welcome to see it. Both of you. Anytime you like!”
Chapter Three
There was a stunned silence. Barb’s breathing was audible as she looked from her husband to her sister.
