A Perfect Stranger

“Haven’t decided that yet.”

Joe upended his suitcase over his bed, dumping his clothes in a heap. “I’ll bet the girl this time has long orangey hair, big green eyes and legs like a ballerina’s.”

“Her eyes are blue.” Nick closed the laptop. “And what are you getting at?”

“Nothing. I’m just afraid I’m going to trip over your tongue every time Syd walks by.”

“Take it back.”

Joe pulled a wrinkled shirt over his head. “Or what?”

“Or I won’t stick your wallet back in your knapsack the next time it falls out.”

“Speaking of which…” Joe pawed through the clothing heap. “Have you seen my khaki shorts?”

Nick twisted in the chair, tugged Joe’s shorts from under a Tower of London souvenir bag and tossed them in his direction. “Are your students ready for Mr. Hairy Legs?”

“I’m not even a blip on the radar.” Joe stumbled into his shorts. “There are other students here, Nick. Fascinating others, of both sexes. From high schools in exotic places like Albuquerque and Tahoe. I’m surprised you’re still sitting next to me on the bus, what with all those pheromones in the air. Especially the California ones.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Nick sighed. “I get it. Connie’s on your back again. ‘Poor Nicky, all alone with his broken heart. Find him a woman or sleep on the sofa.’”

“It’s nothing like that.”

Nick stared at him.

“Okay, maybe a little.” Joe knelt and reached under his bed for his shoes. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Connie? I’m nuts about her. I’ll be sorry until the day I die that you saw her first.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Syd. Sydney Gordon. One of the best-looking single women I’ve seen in a long time. And not just your basic beautiful, but fresh, in that gotta-take-a-second-look kind of way.” He waved a shoe for emphasis. “Am I right?”

“So dogs don’t howl when she walks by,” Nick said. “So what?”

“She’s intelligent and creative, too.”

“Is there a point to this?” Nick glanced at his watch. “And are we going to get to it before they stop serving breakfast?”

“The point is, you’re thirty-six, and you haven’t been in a serious relationship for years.” Joe sat to pull on his shoes. “It’s time to think about your future, Nick. Being everyone’s favorite uncle is a dead-end job. You won’t be happy if you end up alone. It’s time to find someone you can take home to meet Mom.”

“And you think Sydney would meet Mom’s approval?”

“Definitely.” Joe smiled over his shoulder. “Which spells trouble for you.”

“No trouble. ’Cause I’m not looking.”

“Don’t lie to me, Nick. I’ll have to hurt you.”

“So I peeked a couple of times.” He shrugged. “Big deal.”

“I’m just looking out for you, little brother.” Joe finished dressing and stood. “And looking for a little entertainment while I’m at it. Thing is, even if you put your biggest moves on Syd, she wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

Nick snorted. “She already knows the time of day in every zone corresponding to the major world capitals. But I suppose this is your subtle way of saying I’ve lost my touch?”

“Which brings me to point number two,” said Joe. “You’ve lost your touch. You’ve forgotten how to court a woman. I’m not talking about tossing out some line—I’m talking about making an effort to—” He grunted as he pulled on the second shoe. “You know, do the whole romance thing.”

“There’s not a woman alive who could give me any kind of trouble for any length of time.” Nick winced. “Except Connie. She could make my life hell for all eternity.”

“I thought you were nuts about her.”

“That’s the official line. Off the record, she drives me crazy.”

“Connie might drive you crazy,” said Joe, “but a woman like Syd could bring you to your knees.”

Nick grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

“Begging for mercy.” Joe stood and clasped his hands to his chest. “‘Marry me, please, and put me out of my misery.’”

“It’ll never happen.”

“Okay, then.” Joe sucked in his gut and put on his serious face. “I dare you. I dare you to romance Sydney Gordon.”

“A dare?” Nick rolled his eyes. “Last time I looked, I had a driver’s license, selective service registration—you know, all that grown up stuff. I don’t do dares anymore.”

“I double dare you.”

Nick wasn’t sure he wanted to mess with the muse mojo. “I hear she has a boyfriend. Which would make taking that dare double dumb.”

“I heard it’s iffy,” said Joe.

“But long-term.”

“Which means the guy’s a little slow on the uptake.”

Nick shook his head. “I’m not making a move on someone else’s woman.”

“Admirable,” said Joe, “but stupid.”

“Why her?”

Joe didn’t answer. He just gave Nick The Look. The older brother look. The wiser, more wordly, I-want-what’s-best-for-you look.

“I’ve already asked for a date,” said Nick. “Twice. Been turned down. Twice.”

Joe sighed. “Like I said, you’ve lost your touch.”

Nick wasn’t sure he wanted to risk the muse for the woman. But there was a chance—a small, risk-filled, tempting challenge of a chance—that he could have his muse and the woman, too. For the next few days, anyway. Which meant that the boyfriend wasn’t an issue. Anything that happened here in Europe would be short-term and G-rated. Fling lite.

And he wouldn’t have to put up with any more of Joe’s nagging looks.

He cocked his head to one side. “Romance, huh?”

Joe nodded. “Candy and flowers.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little obvious? A little overdone?”

“And you’ve been having so much success with…?”

“I’ve been busy,” said Nick. “And don’t give me that look.”

“Hmm.” Joe rubbed his chin with a thoughtful look, which wasn’t much of an improvement. “There should probably be a kiss. A good one. Women go for that kind of stuff.”

“Tongue?”

“Didn’t I say a good one?”

Joe opened the door, and they headed into the hall. “One last thing,” he said as he hit the button for the elevator. “I like her, Nick. Hurt her, and I’ll sic Connie on you.”

“You can’t bring Connie in on a dare,” said Nick. “That’s not playing fair. Besides, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it for the right reasons.”

“And those would be…?”

Nick shifted his pack with a shrug. “I’m working on it.”

CHAPTER SIX

SYDNEY SEARCHED for a spot to rest and savor the silence of Stonehenge. Beyond the massive stones, sheep grazed in the silvery sage of the wind-rippled grass. Across the road, smoke drifted from the concession stands. Some of her students, rapidly bored with history’s mysteries, queued up for pastries and soft drinks.

She kicked off her sandals and settled cross-legged near the heel stone, smoothing her dress over her knees. The sun’s warmth was a welcome caress, and she shifted to let it warm her face. Ah, relaxation at last. She’d been so tense for so many days in a row she thought she might never unwind.

A shadow moved over her—Joe, trying to make an adjustment to his camera strap with one hand while balancing a muffin with the other.

“Here,” she said, reaching for the camera. “Let me see that.” She quickly coaxed the twisted loop through a tiny plastic catch and handed it back. A lopsided Martelli grin was her reward.

“A woman of many talents,” he said.

“One, anyway.”

“More than one, I’m sure.” He dropped to sit beside her, the camera swinging wildly and his long legs sprawling. The safety of the muffin, however, was never in doubt. “I’ve never met an actress before.”

“Hmm.” She swept breeze-tossed curls from her forehead and searched for a way to change the topic. “What about you? Any hidden talents?”

“Nope. What you see is what you get. But Nick’s got loads of it.” His mouth twisted in an uneven frown. “He just needs to figure out how to put it to good use.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind. Family sore spot.”

“I have to admit,” said Sydney, “he strikes me as the black sheep type.”

“Martellis don’t mess around with that wussy black sheep stuff. We either kill ’em or disown ’em.”

“Sounds pretty harsh.”

“Natural selection at work. National Geographic did a Christmas special the year Massimo stabbed Vito with the turkey baster.”

She smiled. “Telling stories must be another Martelli tradition.”

“Nick was the one with the wildest imagination. Got him out of a lot of scrapes. Got me into a few.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Just look at him over there.” Joe jerked his head toward the buses parked near the concessions stands. Nick moved among a group of Japanese tourists, his crooked smile flashing.

He’d rolled back the sleeves of his shirt, and his dark, sinewy forearms were a striking contrast against the white fabric. A puff of wind ruffled his hair, rearranging the thick layers and tossing a few locks onto his forehead. Even from a distance, she could appreciate his craggy good looks.

She could, but she wouldn’t. She’d concentrate on appreciating Henry. Henry was much more handsome than Nick. His features were more classic, his expressions more open and easygoing. There was nothing dark or intense about him.

Not that Henry was bland or boring.

She turned to Joe. “What’s he doing?”

“Research. It’s a kind of a hobby with him. Everywhere he goes, he talks to people. Collects them, sort of. Asks what they do for a living, how they do it.” Joe stretched out on the grass, his hands a pillow for the back of his head, and closed his eyes. “Anything he collects could end up in one of his stories.”

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