Carrera's Bride

“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.