Naughty Marietta

Cole looked around, shrugged wide shoulders and said, “No one else is here.”

“But that can’t be! Marietta, my best customer, was waiting until I—”

“Ma’am, the shop was empty when I walked in. Now, if you’ll just show me that blue satin nightgown you mentioned. My wife might like it.”

“Oh, indeed she will,” said Lilly, tossing the bundle onto a table and withdrawing the slinky nightgown with a bodice fashioned entirely of delicate lace that left nothing to the imagination.

Cole said, “I’ll take it. Wrap it up and I’ll be back for it later.” He withdrew some bills from his pocket and paid the beaming proprietress.

“Your wife is going to be so pleased, Mr…. Mr….?”

But Cole was gone. He stepped outside. The sidewalk was now empty. He walked to the end of the block, turned and slipped down through the alley. He headed for the restaurant.

Marietta blinked blindly when she entered the dimly lit Far Canyon Café. When her eyes adjusted to the change in light, she saw that she was the only customer. For that she was extremely grateful. If she was very lucky, no one would see her here. No one would ever guess that she had lunched with a stranger, a man who could be a dangerous outlaw for all she knew. The fine hair at the nape of her neck rose and she wondered if she was in danger. If she had any sense, she would leave now before he arrived.

Too late.

No sooner was she seated in a high-backed banquette in a private alcove at the back of the café than Cole Heflin joined her. He slid onto the soft leather seat across from her, licked his thumb and forefinger and extinguished the lighted candle at the center of the table. Smoke from the dying flame wafted and hung in the still air.

Unsmiling, Cole leaned back and gazed at Marietta through the thinning smoke, fixing her with those incredible indigo eyes. He said nothing, just stared at her. His intense scrutiny both embarrassed and pleased her. She could feel the blood rushing to her face and all at once her clothes felt uncomfortably tight.

Cole noticed the pulse in her pale throat throbbing rapidly, saw the high points of color now staining her cheeks.

“Are you too warm, Marietta?” he inquired, shifting on the seat, leaning up to the table. “You look a little flushed.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” she managed to say and silently ordered herself to calm down.

“I wish I could say the same,” Cole said as he reached up and deftly flipped open a couple of buttons going down the center of his shirtfront. “You don’t mind, do you? I’m perspiring.”

“No, of course not,” she said and couldn’t keep from focusing on the expanse of dark, muscled chest that the open shirt revealed.

“There, that’s better,” said Cole, then lifted a hand in the air to signal the waiter.

Soon Marietta relaxed somewhat and began to enjoy herself. Wine flowed into tall goblets of Venetian glass with elegant twisted stems. Crisp salads on gold-banded china and a basket of hot yeast rolls with butter were placed on the table before them. Neither was very hungry. But both drank thirstily of the red wine.

Cole was clever. He put Marietta at her ease, teased her, laughed with her, drew her out. Found out all he could about her without pressing her. Marietta was more than happy to tell him of her triumphs, her plans, her dreams. She had, she told him, been in Central City for a little more than a year. Her residence in the remote mountain village was temporary, she had no intention of staying here long.

She would, she told him, likely be leaving soon to grace the stages of opera houses in much larger cities. Her career in opera was only beginning. She hoped to one day appear in London and Milan. Cole nodded and smiled and listened and acted as if everything she said was of great interest.

Marietta was thoroughly charmed. This clandestine luncheon was, for her, most enjoyable. She couldn’t recall when she’d had such a good time. Sipping her wine and leaning up to the table to listen as he talked, she learned that Cole Heflin was not only the handsomest man she had ever met, he was charming and witty and great fun to be with. In a pleasant wine haze, Marietta was now totally relaxed and happy. Sighing contentedly, she wished that she could sit here in this deserted café with this magnetic man forever. Just the two of them. Drinking, laughing, flirting. It was so incredibly thrilling and downright naughty to be having this secret meeting with a mysterious stranger.

And the danger made the rendezvous all the more exciting.

Holding her stemmed glass out for more wine, Marietta slurred her words slightly when she said, “You know something, Cole, you have just a hint of a Southern accent. Are you from Georgia or Alabama?”

“Texas,” he said, filling her glass.

“Ah,” she replied. “What part of Texas?”

But his reply was a question, “Where were you born, Marietta?”

She didn’t answer and he noted a slight cloud pass behind her eyes. She wrinkled her perfect nose. Then giggled and changed the subject.

“This is the best wine I’ve ever tasted,” she said and licked her lips. Then she tilted her head to one side and asked, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Cole glanced across the café, saw a large Seth Thomas clock on the far wall. “Yes, it’s five minutes of four.”

Marietta’s eyes widened. “You’re teasing me!”

“I would never do that,” Cole said.

“Good heavens, I had no idea it was getting so late,” she said. “I must go.”

Cole shook his head. “Why? The afternoon is young. Let’s order another bottle of wine and some rich, decadent dessert.”

“No. No I can’t,” she said, and started to slide across the leather seat.

“Wait.” Cole stopped her. “Listen to me, Marietta, and let me finish before you speak. Will you do that?”

She smiled and said, “Why, of course, Cole.”

Cole drew a breath, reached across the table and placed his hand gently atop hers. He said simply, “My dear, I’ve come to take you home to your grandfather in Galveston.”

For a moment Marietta stared at him in stunned disbelief. Then her face flushed with anger. She yanked her hand free of his, slid out of the banquette and shot to her feet.

She shouted loudly, not caring who heard her, “Wild horses couldn’t drag me anywhere near that cruel old bastard down in Galveston!”

“Marietta, your grandfather is dying and he—”

“Let him die!” she screeched. “Everybody dies!”

“That’s mighty cold talk coming from the old gentleman’s only granddaughter,” Cole accused. “Let me take you home before it’s too late.”

Her eyes flashing green fire, Marietta snarled, “You are taking me nowhere, Heflin, and you’d better stay away from me! If you don’t, I’ll sic my bodyguards on you and they’ll rearrange that arrogant face of yours! Get out of Central City, you don’t belong here, Texan!”

“I will,” Cole said calmly, remaining seated, “but when I go, you’re going with me.”

Furious, Marietta put both hands on the table, leaned down so that her face was only inches from his and hotly declared, “Not a chance, Heflin. For your information, a very rich and powerful man is madly in love with me and—”

“Maltese,” Cole cut in. “I know. The little silver-haired fellow I’ve seen you with.”

“Yes! I’ll tell Maltese about you!”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will! I’ll go straight to him and—”

Interrupting, Cole said, “You will do no such thing. You’re not about to admit to your aging protector that you secretly met with another man behind his back.”