Mediterranean Men & Marriage: The Italian's Forgotten Baby / The Sicilian's Bride / Hired: The Italian's Bride

“Thanks,” he said shortly. “I may not sound like it, but I really do appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome,” she answered sweetly, then hid a smile as she watched him taking care of the last of the mess. Filling the cup with sea water again, she threw a splash over his shoulders, then another on his neck, and he gasped as the cool water hit his skin, then went back to work with the rag.

She watched him, bemused. He was certainly gorgeous. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of anything extra on him. He looked fit and muscular, about thirty years old.

Just right for me, she’d thought at the time with a silent chuckle. Getting to know a man like this was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid, but she had to admit, she tossed that idea away with a sense of regret.

“I never want to go through that again,” he’d said once he’d removed most of the tentacles. “I felt like something was yanking a thousand hairs out of my flesh, one by one. I’ve never felt anything that seemed so simple to be so damn painful.” He frowned. “It was horrible,” he said, as though he was afraid he hadn’t convinced her.

“So I’ve heard,” she said.

He turned to look at her, and as she thought of it now, she realized he’d really been seeing her for the first time. His head went back and his gaze skimmed over her, lingering on her bare, tanned legs. “You’ve never been stung?”

“Not me. I pay attention to what is going on around me.” She knew she sounded smug, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a little.

“I was just…” He stopped himself, obviously realizing he was beginning to sound defensive. He narrowed his eyes. “This is new territory for me. It won’t happen again.”

She’d smiled. She’d believed him then and she believed him now. He had the look of a man who didn’t usually do much daydreaming on the job.

“They looked so pretty, like little blue balloons sailing toward me in the water. I didn’t realize they were even alive until they began to sting.”

She nodded wisely. “Many of the most beautiful plants and animals in paradise hide a deadly poison,” she noted, talking more philosophy than biology.

To her surprise, he’d laughed. “Is that meant as a warning?” he asked her, and she laughed, too, realizing how it could be interpreted that way. She liked the cast of his dark eyes as they warmed with amusement. And she thought—maybe he wasn’t such an aloof character, after all—once he wasn’t in pain.

“Sit tight,” she said, moving to position herself to use the outboard motor. “I’ll take you back to shore.”

She’d sensed him studying her again as they raced over the blue water. To her surprise, she found she rather liked it. She’d come to these islands almost a year before and in all that time, she had very carefully avoided inviting any male interest.

She wasn’t here for romance. She was here for sanity. It was her intention to live modestly and attract very little notice from the locals. The tourists were a necessary nuisance, since she worked at Kimo’s, but she’d managed to make herself friendly in a reserved sort of way that seemed to work. She’d only had a few incidents where she’d had trouble getting rid of an overzealous male.

All in all, living here had worked out great. No one seemed to question her presence. No one had actually accused her of being in hiding. Maybe that was because so many of the drifters who had made their way here were just like her, avoiding life somewhere else. No one asked too many questions. She’d hoped he wasn’t going to change that trend. She still had hopes along those lines, but if that were the case, why had he come back?

She glanced at what she could see of the skin along his neck. There was no lingering evidence of weeks before when the men-of-war had stung him so badly. She remembered how, on that day, she’d brought him in to shore and tied her dinghy up to the little pier she used. Her small house was a bit back from the water, but it was visible between the coconut palm trunks, its bright yellow exterior and the riotous red hibiscus bushes around it standing out from everything else along the beach.

“Are you staying at the hotel?” she’d asked him then, toying with the idea of offering him a ride back to town on her Vespa and then shrugging it aside. She didn’t want to give him ideas, and anyway, she’d figured a nice long walk would be good for him.

“Is there really only one?” he’d asked, seeming to be amused by that thought.

“Hotel?” She nodded. “We’re pretty remote,” she noted. “We don’t really get a lot of tourists. Most of the passers through are here for the fishing or for the seasonal yacht regattas.”

“I see.”

“So…which are you?”

“Which am I?” he’d repeated, as though wondering himself. “Neither, actually,” he said cryptically. “I guess you could say I’m here for repairs. A little recuperation.”

He’d had the tone of someone who didn’t welcome too much delving into his affairs, so she’d let it drop.

And she knew now that had probably been her big mistake. She found out soon after that he’d only come to the island because he was looking for her. Well, he’d found her. And then he’d left without her.

And here he was, back again.

But that had all happened then, four weeks before. She looked at him sharply. This was now. Why was he back?

It had only been a few minutes since they’d arrived on the Vespa. He was still standing in the clearing, looking a bit lost, and all she was doing was remembering—thinking about the old Marco who had been here before. This new Marco seemed somewhat annoying in contrast and not half as appealing. But maybe the fact that she knew things about him now that she didn’t know then had something to do with that.

If only she’d given him the third degree at that point on that day four weeks ago when she’d found him in the water, she might have saved herself a lot of trouble.

Chapter Two

MARCO COULD TELL she was wondering what to do with him and maybe mulling over things from their shared past, so he waited, letting her stew. He needed some time himself. He was having trouble dealing with all this. A beautiful woman, a forgotten past—it all seemed so outlandish. He could certainly understand Shayna’s appeal. He had no doubt his vacation on Ranai had been pretty spectacular, if she had been his companion in the way all evidence suggested. But that only made it even more crazy that he couldn’t remember her.

And there was another thing. Why had she run from him?

That was the question he needed to hear answered. He’d seen the look of fear in her eyes. Her first reaction had been surprise, but fear had followed quickly, and she’d turned and dashed off as though…what? He’d never been known as a pushover where ladies were concerned, but he’d certainly never been a Blackbeard, either. What had she expected him to do? Whatever it was, she’d thought better of it soon enough, and decided to be reasonable.

But he couldn’t rid himself of that nagging question. Why had she run? It had shocked him and shaken his confidence in a strange way he wasn’t used to. Maybe this situational amnesia had more facets than he’d thought. Maybe his subconscious really wanted to shield him. Maybe there was something about himself he wasn’t going to like finding out.

He would have been less surprised if she’d acted casually unconcerned about his existence, or if she’d walked up, gazed at him with no recognition at all and asked if he wanted a menu. But she hadn’t done that. She’d taken one look, known him immediately, and turned and ran.

What had he done to her? He had a small shiver of unease deep inside. What could he possibly have done to bring on a reaction like that?

He looked at her and tried to read her thoughts by the look in those exceptional blue eyes. She was hesitating, expecting him to start for her house. And that presented a problem. He didn’t know which house was hers. There were two little houses, one on either side of the clearing. He stood back, pretending to be polite, waiting for her to take the lead.

He’d planned to tell her right away about losing his memory. Now he wasn’t so sure. He hesitated. As he stood in the clearing, island life seemed to blossom around him. The sound of the surf on the reef provided background music to parrots calling to each other in the trees and someone in a distant house singing a catchy island song. The heat was a physical presence, and the sunlight seemed to slant into his eyes. If he wasn’t careful, the island magic was going to eat away at his sanity. And that made him think that it might be the wiser course of action to let things cruise for a while as he tried to figure out what upset Shayna. He might as well give it a bit of time to see what he could glean from her conversation before she knew the truth.

And if neither of them was going to make a move, at least he had to say something.

“How long have you lived here?” he asked without thinking.

She turned to stare at him. “What are you trying to do, stir up some small talk?” she asked tartly as he realized his mistake.

This was something a friend would know. He was going to have to take care not to sound like a stranger.

“Why not?” he responded lightly.

Why not, indeed.

She bristled, one hand on her hip. He was still looking around as if he didn’t recognize the place. She would like to think that he was opening his eyes to what he’d lost when he’d destroyed their relationship. That he was re-evaluating some of his actions. Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite buy it.

“We’re a little beyond that, don’t you think?” she muttered, shaking her head. “Come on,” she added, starting off down her path at last. “Let’s go inside. I’m dying for some iced tea.”

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed, following her. His gazed dropped to her cute bottom and he quickly looked away. Until he found out what the problem was between them, he wasn’t going there.

Her house was tiny, set on stilts and surrounded by riotously flowering plants. It was exactly what a beautiful young woman who lived in the tropics should have for a house, he decided, but that was just what made him wary. It was all too perfect, too lush, too sensual—like a trap. Was that what had happened before? He’d probably fallen for her like a ton of bricks, right from the start. He was going to be more careful this time.

He followed her up the wooden steps and across the wide lanai, pulling off his dark glasses as he did so. Inside, she had an open floor plan tastefully decorated in pastels and rattan furniture. He glanced around the room but didn’t see any sign of anything personal that would tell him anything. There was one framed photograph high on a shelf, but not much else, no mementoes of trips or triumphs. She didn’t seem to reveal much easily.