Carol Grace – Mediterranean Men & Marriage: The Italian's Forgotten Baby / The Sicilian's Bride / Hired: The Italian's Bride (страница 8)

Jilly’s face became very serious. “I no longer have any friends. I’ve given all that up. Those kids in town are just too childish for me.”

Shayna stifled the laugh that threatened to reveal how seriously she took that statement. “Good. That’s fine, then.”

“Okay. I’m good with boats, Mr. Smith,” Jilly professed earnestly. “I’ll keep you dry. Honest.”

Shayna laughed softly, then turned to Marco while the two youngsters ran down to the pier to prepare for shipping out.

“Mr. Smith?” he asked her questioningly.

“You might as well face it. Even if you don’t remember doing it, you told everyone your name was Smith. That’s how they know you.”

“Smith,” he muttered disparagingly. “Not very creative.”

He went back in to grab his suit coat, then paused on his way down to the shore to catch his ride to the hotel.

“We’re not done, Shayna,” he said, his gaze traveling over her face in a way that seemed to be seeing things she didn’t really want to reveal. “I don’t give up so easily.”

She started to turn away and he reached out, fingers curling around her upper arm, and pulled her back to face him. “You haven’t even begun to tell me all you know about this,” he said softly.

She gazed back with a touch of defiance in her eyes.

Looking down into her face, he hesitated. Why not? Why not kiss her? He wanted to. Evidence suggested that they had the background for it, even if he couldn’t remember. But no, he couldn’t make a move like that until he found out just what had torn them apart at the end of his stay. And until he saw a little less of that fierce resistance in her eyes. So instead, he gave her a crooked smile.

“I’ll be back,” he said.

Then he was on his way down to the pier where Jilly and Kali were waiting with the dinghy. Shayna watched him go, rubbing her arm where he’d touched her, feeling a little shaken. She saw the hardness in him, the power that would let him sweep away all her inhibitions and take over if she wasn’t careful. That was what made him so dangerous. That was why she needed him off the island as quickly as possible.

But now that he was giving her a bit of space, she allowed herself to enjoy the look of him, just a little bit. He moved with an easy athletic grace and she felt a catch in her breathing. If only things hadn’t gotten so complicated. If only…

Shayna was busy until evening, cleaning up and then working on a new set of kitchen window curtains out of some dyed burlap material she’d picked up at the island’s one general store. She welcomed Jilly back when she returned the dinghy, then tried to get her mind back on the curtains, but her thoughts wouldn’t stay away from what had happened that afternoon.

And what had happened was all about Marco. He was here and he wasn’t going away any time soon. It was all very well to decide to ignore him, but if he really had come back to find his missing plans, he wasn’t leaving until he knew where they were. If he really didn’t remember anything about his visit, he wasn’t going to have a clue as to where to look. He couldn’t remember what he’d done or where he’d been. If he really was telling the truth. Which she doubted at times.

How could he have forgotten? The memories were so vivid in her mind. But the brain was a weird and scary place—and it contained all sorts of things its owner knew nothing about.

“Ugh.” She made a face. This was getting a bit thick, wasn’t it? Better to stick to the world she saw before her eyes. At least there, she knew what she was doing.

She fixed herself a simple meal of cheese toast and a green salad, and then found herself staring down into it, unable to eat a bite. She kept wondering what he was doing. Was he still at the hotel? Had he found someone else to talk to? He was determined to find his missing design plans. She thought for a moment, trying to remember what she could about them and how they’d looked that morning, all spread over the hotel room floor.

She’d seen her father’s company logo on a few of them—and the name Marco DiSanto right next to it From then on, she’d been on a white-hot tear, unable to process any other information. Once she’d realized who he really was she’d been sure she knew why he was here. Her father had sent him, of course—sent him to find his daughter and drag her back to New York. And hadn’t that been what he’d been trying to do by urging her to come back with him? She’d almost fallen for it.

That last night had been magic, all star-filled and moonlit. They had toasted the time they’d had together with sparkling wine, regretting that he was to leave in the morning, and when he began to whisper in her ear about going with him, she’d really been tempted. Her heart had cracked painfully as she’d tried to explain to him why that was impossible. He didn’t want to listen, and they had parted just this side of angry with each other for the first time. That was why she had gone to his hotel room so early the next morning, eager to make peace. And instead, the pretend world she’d been living in had broken wide open and she’d come face-to-face with reality.

Did she love him? Maybe. But it hardly mattered. There was no hope, and she knew it only too well. Besides, he wasn’t the man she’d fallen for. That was all a great big hoax.

And now she was committed to getting him out of here as quickly as possible, and if that meant helping him find those plans, she’d better get with it. She would have to be proactive.

As long as he really didn’t remember anything about his stay here, if she helped him find his plans, he’d go back where he came from and she’d be home free. The only complicating factor was the little hitchhiker she’d acquired along the way. She sighed and flattened her hands over her stomach. There was nothing showing yet, but she knew the truth, even though she hadn’t seen a doctor. The fact that she was probably pregnant wasn’t quite real to her yet. She hadn’t thought through all the implications. She was planning to do exactly that—just as soon as she got Marco out of her hair and on an airplane for Italy. Or a slow boat to China. Whichever came first.

So she’d better get prepared. And what did that mean? A shower, of course. Washing her hair. Putting on something pretty and trekking on over to his hotel to tell him she’d changed her mind. Heaving a big, long sigh, she squared her shoulders and got on with it.

A bit over an hour later, she was on her way. First, she stopped in at Kimo’s Café to apologize for having run off earlier. He waved her regrets away. The large Hawaiian was so laid back, nothing ever seemed to bother him much.

“No worries,” he told her. “Lunch was about done by then anyway. We didn’t have any trouble taking up the slack.”

She gratefully kissed his cheek and promised to be in early for the breakfast crowd in the morning, then slipped off to cross the road and made her way to the Ranai Hotel. Climbing the wide steps to the entry, she hesitated at the double doors. Was she really ready to do this?

“Get a grip, Shayna,” her inner strength said firmly. “If you don’t guide your own destiny, someone else will do it for you.”

She nodded. Her inner strength had the answer, as usual.

“Okay,” she said aloud and she reached out to swing open the door. “Here I go.”

Chapter Four

MARCO SAT IN THE HOTEL BAR at a beautiful old mahogany table overlooking a wide veranda. He was nursing a whiskey and brooding over the stunning sunset that was spreading its orange and gold effects over the peaceful ocean. The place itself had strongly nostalgic vibes. It gave off the sense of a time fifty years past when men really could get lost and start their lives over in the South Seas.

He wasn’t having a lot of luck in igniting his own memories. He’d looked through the old-fashioned hotel register for past entries and, sure enough, there was the name Marco Smith, clear as day. What had he been thinking? The counter attendant didn’t know anything about it. When he’d asked him, all he’d gotten in return was a smile and a shrug.

He’d had a bit more luck with the waiter here in the bar. A young, rakish sort, he looked like a college kid making a little money with a summer job in the tropics.

“Do you remember me?” he’d asked him curiously.

“Sure. I remember you. You were here a few weeks ago. You asked me some stuff about sailing conditions around here.”

“Sounds about right,” Marco murmured softly. Then his gaze sharpened. “Did I hang around here a lot? In the bar, I mean.”

“You don’t remember?” He grinned. “Dude, why would you? You were mostly heading out for picnics with Shayna. That’s the way I remember it. And the rest of us were feeling a little envious, I must admit. She usually doesn’t fraternize, if you know what I mean.”

He knew exactly what the young man meant, but that wasn’t the point. It was more confirmation that he really had been here, and that he had been with Shayna a lot of the time. No matter how she tried to shade it now, he knew she could help him if she wanted to. But the waiter was treating it like a joke and he knew he wasn’t going to get anything else relevant out of him.