Carrera's Bride Read online

  She relaxed into the soft cushions. “I don’t mind,” she whispered with aching need. She meant it. She sensed that he was distancing himself from her. He did care, she knew he did, but something was terribly wrong. She didn’t want to lose him.

  “Delia,” he groaned, “we can’t do this.”

  “Why can’t we?” she asked, opening her legs to admit the weight of his powerful body between them. She lifted into him.

  “This isn’t the place…God!”

  Just as he protested, her hand went shyly between them and she touched him, shocked at his reaction as much as she was surprised at his potency. Her memory of his body in arousal was less intimidating.

  He caught her hand and moved it against him with pure sensual fever. “That’s it. Here. Here!” He undid fastenings and seconds later, her hand was against hard, velvety soft skin.

  She tried to draw back, but it was too late. He had her firmly in his grip and he was insisting. She followed his whispered commands first with shyness, then with pride, then with abandon as he gave in to the aching need for satisfaction and shuddered violently in her hands.

  “It’s no good, I can’t stop,” he ground out, and he stripped her out of the sundress and her underwear with confident finesse.

  His shirt hit the pavement along with his slacks and boxer shorts, in short order.

  “Yes,” he groaned as he went into her with feverish passion. He lifted his head and watched her body accept him, even if it protested just slightly at the power of his possession.

  “Marcus,” she cried out, shocked and delighted all at once.

  He moved again, still watching her. “It’s going to be magic,” he gasped.

  She watched him, watching her, as they moved together on the chaise, while the whispery, urgent sounds of skin on fabric grew loud, like their breathing, in the softly lit darkness.

  “What if someone…walks in?” she asked in a last bit of sanity.

  “Who the hell cares?” he moaned. “Let them watch…!”

  His rough, deep motions sent her out of control, throbbing with hot tension that built and built until finally, abruptly, she stiffened and shuddered and cried out in a hoarse, almost inhuman tone that faded like the night around them as she climaxed over and over again.

  He let her wring the last bit of silvery pleasure from him before he drove hard and fast for his own fulfillment. He found it so suddenly that his voice rang out in the darkness as he convulsed over her.

  She held him afterward, cradling his weight, caressing his dark, damp hair while he shivered in the aftermath.

  “It gets better all the time,” she whispered brokenly, kissing his throat.

  “It gets more dangerous all the time,” he replied roughly. “Delia, I didn’t use anything. I was too far gone. I don’t want to make you pregnant, baby. I don’t dare!”

  “Would it really be so terrible?” she whispered daringly.

  His teeth clenched. “It would be…the end of the world for me, right now,” he said bluntly, shattering the last of her dreams. She didn’t know the danger he was in, and he was thinking what a stick it would give his enemies to have a pregnant woman for them to threaten. “I’ve told you that already. I don’t want kids, Delia. Not now!”

  Chapter Eight

  Delia clung to him tightly, her eyes closed as she hid her anguish at what he’d just said to her.

  “I know you don’t want to hear that,” he said wearily. “I’m sorry. But there are things going on that you can’t know about. We can’t take any more chances. We can’t be lucky forever.”

  “I understand.”

  “You don’t, baby,” he said heavily. “But that’s all right.” He eased onto his side, carrying her with him. “I’m crazy about you,” he whispered. “That’s the truth.”

  “I’m crazy about you, too, Marcus,” she whispered back. “I’ll never feel this way about anybody else as long as I live.”

  “You’d better not,” he growled in mock anger. He kissed her gently. “We’d better get dressed. I have to get you home early tonight. I’ve got company coming.”

  “Company?” She felt uneasy.

  He smiled. “Male company,” he whispered, and kissed her again.

  Once they were dressed and he’d phoned for a cab, he held her gently in the hall. “Listen,” he said quietly, “don’t think I’m trying to back out. I have to keep away from you for a while. It’s nothing to worry about, and you’re not to feel rejected. Okay?”

  She felt worried, and it showed. “I can’t even talk to you on the phone?”

  “Not until I call you, or get in touch with you through Smith. Got that?” He held her by the shoulders, his hands heavy and firm. “You can’t be seen associating with me until I tell you it’s safe. Promise me!”

  “I promise, Marcus,” she faltered.

  “You look as if I’ve thrown you out in the street and it’s not like that,” he said gruffly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m not going to let you go. So when you’re picturing me with other women and worrying about whether I’ve dumped you, remember what I said. I care about you, very much. As soon as I can, I’ll be in touch.”

  She managed a wan smile. “Okay.”

  “You can’t tell your sister or Barney anything about us. Got that?”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” she confessed.

  He looked at her with deep concern. “We’ve got a future together. I promise you, we have. I’ll find a way.”

  She sighed. “All right. I’ll live on dreams for a while.”

  He traced a line down her cheek. “So will I, and they’ll be sweet ones.” He bent and drew his lips softly over her swollen mouth. “My sweet innocent. There’s nobody else like you on earth, and you’re all mine.”

  She smiled under his mouth. “And you’re all mine.”

  He kissed her hungrily until the sound of a horn outside the door distracted him.

  “Can I send you a note?” she asked.

  He glared at her. “No notes, no phone calls, don’t wave if you see me on the street. You don’t know me, except for that night I saved you from Fred.”

  “Fred,” she sighed.

  “And stay the hell away from him, no matter what else you do,” he said firmly. “Fred is big trouble.”

  “I noticed,” she said, not realizing that they were talking at cross purposes.

  His dark eyes were troubled as he walked her to the front door. “Last month I was a happy, carefree bachelor,” he murmured. “Now I’m not only losing my right arm, I’m seeing it off at the curb.”

  She laughed softly at the analogy. “I’m losing mine, too,” she reminded him. “Or maybe I should say I’m going to be a needle without thread.”

  “Or a block without piecing,” he countered, smiling.

  She held his big hand in hers and looked up at him one last time. “Be safe,” she whispered.

  “I’ll do my part. You do yours.” He opened the cab’s rear door for her. “John,” he told the driver, slipping him a hundred-dollar bill, “you never saw me in your life and you just came from Karen Bainbridge’s house with Miss Mason. Got that?”

  “You bet, Mr. Carrera,” John said with a grin.

  Marcus stood and watched the cab pull away with a grim face. All too soon, he was going to be involved in a struggle he didn’t anticipate with joy. But compared to losing Delia, even temporarily, it didn’t concern him half as much.

  Delia hid her misery until she was back at the hotel and in her room for the night. She took a long hot bath and cried all through it. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Marcus might be trying to set her down gently, despite his affirmations that he cared for her. Hadn’t she heard all her life that men would say anything to get a woman into bed with them?

  Now that she didn’t have him to reassure her, she lost her confidence. It was all she could do to make herself get up and dressed the next morning and go down to the restaurant for breakfast.
r />   It wasn’t much of a breakfast at that, she thought as she sat by the clear waters of the swimming pool under some palm trees. She sipped orange juice and nibbled bacon. She couldn’t even look at a fried egg.

  She was staring uncertainly at the bacon on her plate when a shadow fell over her.

  “It’s too late,” a deep voice commented.

  She lifted her head and looked into a pair of black eyes in a rough, tan face surrounded by dark blond hair. He was tall, slender, muscular, and pleasant. He didn’t look the least bit threatening, but there was something about him that made Delia tense inside.

  “I’m sorry?” she stammered.

  “The bacon. You can’t set it free.”

  She got it. Her face brightened as she laughed. “Smart mouth,” she commented.

  He grinned. “My middle name,” he replied.

  She frowned. “I’ve seen you around here.”

  “Really?” he asked with a straight face. “When?”

  She chuckled. At least he’d taken her mind off the bacon. “I’m Delia Mason,” she introduced herself.

  “Dunagan,” he said, extended a hand.

  “Just Dunagan?” she queried, wondering why his name sounded familiar. Hadn’t Barney mentioned a man named Dunagan? She couldn’t remember.

  He grinned. “Mind if I join you?”

  She hesitated.

  “Let me guess. You’re involved,” he surmised.

  She sighed. “Yes.”

  “No problem. So am I.” He had a thoughtful look. “Of course, she doesn’t know it, but why should that worry me?”

  She blinked. “You’re involved with a woman and she doesn’t know?”

  He shrugged. “I keep secrets. Are you here alone?” he added.

  “With my sister and her husband,” she said.

  “Thought I recognized you. Your brother’s Barney Cortero, right?”

  “He’s my brother-in-law,” she corrected

  “He’s a good egg,” he replied, studying her closely. “Why aren’t they with you?”

  “They had to go to Miami. But they’re due back tonight,” she volunteered.

  He smiled. “I like Miami,” he said. “I spend a lot of time there.”

  “I’ve never been to Florida,” she said, smiling. “In fact, I’ve never been anywhere until now.”

  “Where are you from?” he wanted to know.

  “Texas,” she said. “You?”

  His eyebrows arched. “You aren’t going to believe this. I’m from Texas, too. Near El Paso.”

  “I’m from near San Antonio.”

  “We’ve got sagebrush and cactus,” he bragged.

  “We’ve got pecan trees and palms.”

  He shrugged. “To each his own. Maybe I’ll see you around, again,” he added with a congenial smile.

  “Yes. Maybe so.”

  He winked and sauntered off toward the bar.

  She smiled to herself. There was nobody who could compete with Marcus, of course, but her new acquaintance was definitely attractive. Back home, she’d had one date in two years. Now in the space of weeks, she was suddenly irresistible. But it didn’t help to know that she was separated from Marcus indefinitely, and that she was almost certainly pregnant to boot. Marcus didn’t want children now. What was she going to do?

  The first thing was to make sure she really was pregnant. So she went to a drugstore and bought a home pregnancy kit. She used it. The result was positive.

  She sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared down at the blue tile floor with her mind in limbo. She was going to have a child. She was twenty-three, unmarried and the child was fathered by a man who’d already said he didn’t want children until much further down the road.

  Now Delia was faced with a dilemma. Barb couldn’t know about it; that was the first priority. She’d be inconsolable and furious, and so disappointed in her sister that it was agony to even contemplate her reaction.

  The second priority was to make sure that she didn’t slip up and show any symptoms that Barb would recognize. She had to make sure she slept late and didn’t get exposed to scrambled eggs. She had to say that she exercised so much during the day that she was exhausted at night. Barb would buy that, because she’d never been pregnant. She couldn’t have children at all. Delia wondered why. It was a subject that had never been discussed.

  But as to what she was going to do about her child there was no question. She was keeping her baby, no matter what she had to do. If it meant moving overseas for nine months and pretended that she’d adopted a child, she’d do that. She’d do anything. She placed her hand protectively over her flat stomach and smiled dreamily. She was going to be a mother!

  She tucked the pregnancy test kit into a plastic bag, shoved it in her purse, and disposed of it in a trash bin in a nearby arcade. There was now no chance that Barb would find it.

  She contrived to look rested, alert and happy when the hotel door opened and a weary Barney walked in with Barb.

  “We’re back, baby!” Barb exclaimed, and rushed forward to hug Delia warmly. “I’m so sorry we had to be away so long! Are you okay? There wasn’t any trouble, or anything…?”

  “Barb!” Barney inserted abruptly, and gave his wife a threatening look.

  “I meant Fred hasn’t been around?” Barb backtracked quickly.

  “No, I haven’t seen him,” Delia assured her sister. “Did you have a nice trip?”

  “It was business,” Barb said evasively. “Have you been hanging out with the yacht lady?”

  Delia chuckled. “Quite a lot. You have to meet her, too,” she added with perfect composure. “She’s a hoot. You’d never guess she was in her sixties. She’s so full of life—and she quilts!”

  “Aha,” Barb said with a grin. “That’s the draw, is it?”

  “We’ve been trading patterns,” Delia lied. Of course, she and Marcus certainly had traded patterns.

  “And you haven’t been seeing that gangster?” Barb added suspiciously.

  “Barb, she already told you she hasn’t,” Barney groaned. “Stop grilling the girl.”

  Barb grimaced. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I worry, especially now…”

  “Barb, for God’s sake!” Barney interrupted.

  Barb flushed, holding up both hands, palms out. “Okay, okay!”

  “Have you eaten supper?” Barney asked Delia.

  “No, and I’m hungry,” she said. She wasn’t really, but she couldn’t admit that.

  “Let’s all go get something to eat.”

  “Have you connected with any of the guests here?” Barb asked as they all went out the door together.

  “Actually, I have, with one. His name’s Dunagan.”

  Barney turned to her, frowning. “Dunagan?”

  “He’s from Texas, too,” Delia chuckled.

  “Yes, we know,” Barb said absently.

  “He’s dishy,” Delia said, playing it to the hilt. “Wavy blond hair, black eyes, nice body, weird sense of humor—just my type.”

  Barb pursed her lips and her eyes twinkled. “Well, well, progress!”

  “Will you stop trying to marry her off?” Barney muttered. “She’s just a baby.”

  “I was eighteen when you married me,” Barb pointed out.

  Barney gave her a grin. “So I robbed the cradle. That doesn’t make it all right.”

  Barb made a face at him. “Spoilsport. I want to see my…sister happy like I am. What’s wrong with that?”

  Not for the first time, Delia found it curious that Barb always hesitated before she said ‘sister,’ as if she had a hard time with it. There was a tremendous age difference, of course, and she’d spent much of her life taking care of Delia. Probably she felt more like a mother than a sister, and who could blame her.

  “I’ll bet I ruined your love life,” Delia mused. “Mama said you took me on your first date with Barney.”

  Barb didn’t look at her. “That was Mama’s idea. She thought you’d keep us straig
ht.”

  “Didn’t she trust you?” Delia asked innocently.

  “Leave it alone, there’s a good girl,” Barb replied. “Quick, catch the elevator or we’ll be stuck here for ten minutes!” She ran for it, with Barney and Delia trailing behind.

  Dunagan was at the restaurant when they walked in, sitting all by himself, waiting for his order. He was wearing white slacks with a patterned silk shirt and a stylish jacket. He looked very masculine and expensive.

  He spotted Delia and grinned as she and her party came even with him, behind the waiter.

  “Great minds do think alike,” he told her. “Care to join me? I need protection! I’m sure that at least two women in this restaurant have evil designs on me.” He glanced around covertly.

  She smiled. “Sorry. I’m with my sister…”

  “Barb, you mean?” he persisted. “Hey, Barney, how’s it going?” he added, greeting Delia’s brother-in-law.

  “Slow and tricky,” Barney said. “You’re still here, then?”

  Dunagan shrugged. “Some jobs take a lot of patient work.”

  Barney and the younger man exchanged a puzzling look. There was something strange about the way they looked at each other. It was almost as if they were putting on an act.

  “What do you do, Mr. Dunagan?” Delia asked as Barney seated Barb and then himself.

  “I’m in real estate,” he replied, smiling. He produced a card and handed it to Barney. “Right now, I’m trying to peddle some acreage on Paradise Island.”

  Barney lifted both eyebrows. “That’s still on?”

  “Definitely,” Dunagan said easily. “I’ve got a buyer on the hook.”

  “Well, well,” Barney replied.

  The waiter arrived, and the small talk vanished as the menus were produced.

  It was the strangest meal Delia could remember, and she was quietly suspicious of the easy rapport between Barney and Dunagan. Barb didn’t seem to be aware of it.

  Afterward, Dunagan went into the lobby with them and asked Barney if he knew anything about a statue just outside the hotel door.

  The men walked away, talking animatedly.