Carrera's Bride

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.

“I think Fred’s lying,” Barb said finally.

Barney stared at her. “Fred said she didn’t do a thing for him, and he’s used to real lookers. I’m sorry, baby,” he told Delia, “but that’s the truth. It doesn’t make sense that Fred would be that out of line with a woman who didn’t appeal to him.”

“A bowl of gelatin would have appealed to him at the time, Barney,” Delia said in her own defense. “He was stewed to the gills.”

“I’ll talk to Marcus Carrera,” Barney said curtly. “He’ll tell the truth. He may be a pirate, but he’s an honest pirate.”

“You know the head of security at the casino?” Delia asked.

“Honey, I don’t know what you’ve been drinking,” Barney said dryly, “but Carrera is the owner of the Bow Tie. The closest he comes to security is when he turns Smith loose on somebody who’s tried to cheat him. They say he used to do his own dirty work in the old days in Chicago. Maybe he still does.”

“Mr…. Carrera owns the casino,” Delia parroted.

“He owns lots of stuff,” Barney replied casually. “Hotels and casinos, mostly, in the Caribbean and one off the coast of New Jersey. The Bow Tie’s his newest one. He’s been down here for a while. Since the oil drum incident, anyway.”

Delia sat down, hard. She was feeling sick. “What oil drum incident?”

Barney chuckled. “This really bad character did something nearly fatal to one of Carrera’s friends. They found him floating down the Chicago River in an oil drum. Well, most of him,” he amended. “There are still a few parts missing.”

“Parts?” Delia exclaimed.

“Now, now, baby, nobody said Carrera did it by himself. He’s always had people around him who would do what they wanted him to,” he continued. “But he’s got a reputation that scares even bad people. Nobody ever crosses him unless they’ve got a death wish.”

“That isn’t what that Dunagan man said,” Barb reminded her husband.

He frowned at her. “Dunagan was just passing on gossip,” he said with deliberate firmness.

“Well, there is some gossip about that Miami gangster—what’s his name, Deluca?—who’s trying to set up his own operation down here on Paradise Island. They say he’s got his hand into all sorts of illegal gambling in Florida and now he wants to take over a casino or two in the Bahamas.”

“He got caught for running an illegal betting operation,” Barney replied. “He opened a couple of shops so people could bet on greyhound and horse racing. But he reneged on the payoffs or lied about the bets that were placed. He did three years. Had a really good lawyer,” he added with a grin.

Barb gave him a cold look. “He’s a crook.”

“Sure he is,” Barney agreed. “But he’s got a lot of muscle, and that beautiful daughter who travels around with him. They say he uses her to set up men. But she’s got the personality of a spitting cobra.”

“How exactly did you get home, baby?” Barb asked suddenly.

“The head of security drove me over in a big black stretch limousine,” Delia said with a big smile. “It was incredible!”

“I forgot you’d never been in one,” Barney said, sighing. “I wanted to bring you up to stay with us in New York and show you the town. But your…mother wouldn’t hear of it,” he added curtly. “She hated my guts. She said she didn’t want you around me.”

“But, why?” Delia asked, appalled. Nobody had ever told her that.

Barb gave Barney a warning glance. “Mother was jealous of Barney because he took me away from her,” she said. “They never got along, you know that.”

“Yes,” Delia admitted, “but that doesn’t explain why she didn’t want me to go to New York.”

Barney turned away, looking uncomfortable. “She thought you might like it there and want to stay.”

“She didn’t want to lose you, baby,” Barb said, but she didn’t sound very comfortable herself.

“But she never liked me,” Delia exclaimed.

“What?” Barb asked sharply.

Delia had never admitted that to them. She hated doing it now, but perhaps it was time to get it out in the open.

“She didn’t like me,” she confided miserably. “Nothing I did was ever right. She didn’t like my hair long, but she liked it less if I had it cut. She didn’t like the clothes I wore, they were too dowdy. She ridiculed the ones I designed and made myself. She said I was lazy and shiftless and that I’d never amount to anything…”

“Baby, you can’t be serious!” Barb exclaimed, horrified.

“I never understood why,” Delia said heavily, sitting down. “It was almost as if she hated me, but when I asked her if she did, she got all flustered and said of course she didn’t, that it wasn’t my fault that I was the way I was.”

Barb and Barney exchanged curious glances. They not only looked shocked, they looked guilty. Delia wondered why.

“Baby, why didn’t you ever tell me this?” Barb asked gently, her green eyes soft and loving.

Delia grimaced. “It wouldn’t have been right, for me to talk like that about my own mother. And what could you have done, anyway? You and Barney had your own lives.”

“She never said why she made it so hard on you?” Barney asked.

Delia glanced at him and thought, not for the first time, how strange it was that his face and hers were remarkably similar, from the small ears to the rounded chin and the very shape of his eyes. She’d even asked Barb once if he was kin to them, because of the resemblance. But Barb had laughed and said of course not.

Not that she didn’t look like Barb, too, with the same green eyes and blond hair. Their mother had dark hair and blue eyes. But, then, Delia knew that she and Barb were throwbacks to their paternal grandmother, because Delia’s mother had said so.

“I’m sorry,” Barb said, moving to hug her sister close. She’d always been affectionate like that, since Delia’s earliest memories. Barb hugged her coming and going, praised her, teased her, sent her presents on every holiday and birthday and all the time in between. Delia had never wanted for anything, especially not love. In fact, until three years ago, Barney and Barb had lived in San Antonio. They were always around. But when they were, Delia’s mother was on her best behavior. She loved Barb best, and it showed. She was sharp with Delia, though, and Barb had occasionally remarked on it. She didn’t realize how harsh their mother could be, when she wasn’t there.

“Maybe I could come to New York and visit one day,” Delia mentioned.

Barb’s face lit up. “That would be great! We could take you to all the touristy places and you and I could go shopping together!”

Delia smiled. “I’d like that.”

“We still haven’t finished talking about Fred,” Barney interrupted.

“She’s not going out with him again,” Barb said firmly, with an arm around her sister.

“I wasn’t going to suggest that,” Barney said gently. “But I need to have a talk with him about his behavior tonight,” he added, dark eyes flashing. “He had no right to manhandle her!”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Barb said. “At least you got home safely.”

“Yeah, and Carrera didn’t send Fred home in a shoe-box, either, apparently,” Barney murmured.

“You said Mr. Carrera doesn’t kill people,” Delia reminded him. She couldn’t believe that he did. She didn’t want to believe it.

“He’s calmed down a bit,” Barney replied. He poured himself a drink. “He hasn’t bumped anybody off recently, at least. He’s keeping a low profile. I expect that’s why he’s down here in the Bahamas. Laying low.”

“You look sick, baby,” Barb said worriedly. She sat down beside Delia and patted her knee. “You’ve had a bad night. Why don’t you go to bed and get some sleep?”

“I think I’ll do that,” Delia said.

“Did you actually talk to Carrera?” Barney asked curiously.

Delia nodded, her throat was too tight for speech.

Barney chuckled. “That’s one for the books. He never mingles with the customers. I guess he was afraid you might sue him, if Fred’s lying. He wouldn’t like the publicity.”

“I thought you believed Fred,” Barb said curtly.

He shrugged. “If Carrera got involved, it’s no wonder Fred’s trying to smooth things over. Nobody wants to cross him. Least of all Fred. He’s been working out a business proposition he wants to involve Carrera in. I don’t know what sort, but Fred does have a genius for making money.” He sipped his drink, frowning. “I might try to get in on it myself,” he added with a glance at Barb.

“You stay out of business with Carrera,” Barb said flatly. “I like you alive, warts and all.”

“Did Smith bring you back to the hotel?” Barney asked Delia.

“He and Mr. Carrera did.”

There were shocked stares.

“Fred tore my dress and Mr. Carrera sewed it up for me,” she faltered.

Barney finished the drink in one swallow.

“That’s right, he quilts,” Barb said, brightening. “Delia teaches quilting. You told him, right?”

Delia nodded.

“No wonder he was nice to you,” Barney agreed. “He’s a sucker for a fellow quilter. We heard he gave a guy a week’s paid vacation in one of his hotels for two yards of old cloth.”

“Antique fabric is very valuable,” Delia said softly, “and extremely hard to get.”

“They say he keeps an album of his quilts,” Barney chuckled.

“He does. I saw it. He’s won international competitions,” Delia replied. “His needlework is marvelous.” She showed the mend to Barb, who couldn’t find the stitches.

“That’s really something,” Barb had to admit.

“If he ever shoots me, I’ll ask him to sew me a quilted shroud,” Barney quipped.

Barb stared at him. “Why would he want to shoot you?”

Barney looked uncomfortable. Then he shrugged. “No reason right now. I had thought about suggesting we all take in a show at the casino. We might get special treatment now, what with him sewing up Delia.”

Barb glowered at her husband. “We’re not putting her in his path again. I do not want my baby sister running around with a criminal!”

“He’s not a criminal. Not exactly,” Barney said. “He’s a nice guy as long as you don’t try to steal from him or threaten anybody close to him.”

“I don’t want to find out,” Barb said firmly. She turned to Delia. “You stay away from that man. I don’t care how nicely he sews, either.”

Delia wanted to tell them that Marcus had asked her out the next day, but she didn’t quite have the courage. It was hard to stand up to Barb, who was mature and brimming with authority. Delia had never refused to do anything Barb asked.

But she remembered the hungry kiss she’d shared with Marcus on the windswept balcony, the feel of his arms around her, the warm strength of him in the cool evening. She tingled all over with memory. She wanted to be with him.

The only thing that bothered her was his reputation. What if he really did kill people…?

Barb was studying her expression. “Dee, did you hear me?” she asked. “I said, I don’t want you going around with a gangster.”

“I heard, Barb,” Delia replied.

“He’s loaded, you know,” Barney interrupted. “They say he’s worth millions.”

“It’s how he got it that bothers me,” Barb replied.

“There are worse crooks heading up corporations all over the world,” Barney said carelessly. “He’s certainly got the midas touch when it comes to business. At least he’s honest, and he never makes idle threats. He loves senior citizens.”

“So does the Japanese mafia, the Yakuza,” Barb shot back.

Barney threw up his hands. “Everything’s black and white with you.”

“I’ll go to bed and let you two finish your argument in private,” Delia offered.

“You do that, baby,” Barb said gently. “I’m glad you’re okay. Imagine, riding around Nassau in the company of a killer!”

“They never proved that he killed anybody,” Barney argued.

“They never proved he didn’t!”

Delia slipped out of the sitting room and closed the door on the loud voices. She got ready for bed in a daze. She couldn’t believe what Barney said about Marcus. Surely she’d have sensed evil if it was in him. He’d been kind, and comforting. He’d even been affectionate. He was attracted to her, as she was to him. Was it so wrong to spend time with him?

She worried about what Barb would say. And then she thought, I’m a grown woman. I have to make my own decisions about people.

She remembered suddenly what Marcus had said to her, about not believing what she might hear about him; about waiting until she knew him better to make that sort of judgment.

It was going to be too much temptation anyway, to turn away from him now. She was already hooked. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. She was going to go to Blackbeard’s Tower with him, even if she had to do it covertly.

She remembered that he’d said he’d meet her in the lobby, and she began to worry. It was a long shot, but what if Barb and Barney happened to be in the lobby at the same time?

The thought kept her awake late into the night.

She dreamed about the hot kiss they’d shared on his balcony as well. She’d always been a sensible, practical sort of person. But when Marcus Carrera touched her, she lost her head completely and became someone else. She’d never understood why women gave up their principles and slept with men before they were married. But it was becoming clear that sometimes physical attraction overran caution. Her body throbbing, she felt stirrings that she’d never experienced in her life. She could barely stand to have the sheet touch her body, she was so feverish with just the memories. Marcus’s body close to hers, his big hands flat on her back, his mouth biting into hers hungrily. She actually moaned. It was dangerous for her to see him again, because she wanted him with a blind, mindless passion. She knew already that she couldn’t resist him if he put on the heat. And he might be as helpless to stop it as she already was.