Читать книгу: «Diamonds are for Sharing»

Diamonds
are for
Sharing
Her Valentine Blind Date
Raye Morgan
Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds
Nina Harrington
The Bridesmaid and the Billionaire
Shirley Jump

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Her Valentine Blind Date

About the Author

RAYE MORGAN has been a nursery school teacher, a travel agent, a clerk and a business editor, but her best job ever has been writing romances—and fostering romance in her own family at the same time. Current score: two boys married, two more to go. Raye has published over seventy romances and claims to have many more waiting in the wings. She lives in Southern California, with her husband and whichever son happens to be staying at home at that moment.

CHAPTER ONE

BAD timing.

Max Angeli shoved the single red rose he was carrying into his pocket as he flipped open his mobile and barked a greeting, resigned to the certainty that whatever he was about to be told was going to create a new level of chaos in his life. First problem—the dance club he’d just walked into was too noisy. Lights swirled and the heavy drumbeat of sensual rhythms pounded. The brittle clink of crystal liquor glasses vied with high-pitched feminine laughter to fill the air with a sort of desperate frivolity. He already despised the place.

“Hold on, Tito,” he said into the phone. “Let me get to a spot where I can hear you.”

He could tell it was his assistant on the other end of the call, but he couldn’t understand a word he was saying. A quick scan of the crowded lounge located the powder room and he headed for it. The sound level improved only marginally, but enough to let him hear what Tito was saying.

“We found her.”

Max felt as though he’d touched a live electric wire. Everything in him was shocked. Closing his eyes, he tried to take it in. They’d been searching for weeks, with no apparent leads, until this last tip that his brother’s ex-girlfriend, Sheila Bern, might have traveled by bus to Dallas.

His brother, Gino, had died just months before. Sheila hadn’t surfaced at the time, but she’d contacted Max months later to say she’d had Gino’s baby. When he’d asked for proof that the baby was indeed his brother’s, she’d vanished again. He’d almost given up hope. And now, to hear that she’d been found …

“You found her?” he repeated hoarsely. “Are you sure?”

“Well, yes and no.”

His grip hardened on the mobile. “Damn it, Tito …”

“Just get over here, Max. You’ll see what I mean.” He rattled off an address.

Max closed his eyes again and memorized the information. “Okay,” he said. “Sit tight. I’ve got to get out of this blind date thing I got myself involved in. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay. Hey, boss? Hurry.”

Max nodded. “You got it.” He snapped the phone shut and turned back to the noisy room, tempted to head straight for his car and forget the woman who was waiting for him somewhere in all this annoying crush of revelers. But even he couldn’t be quite that rude. Besides, his mother would make him pay. She might be sitting in a terraced penthouse in Venice at the moment, but she had ways of reaching across the ocean to Dallas and turning on the guilt machine. Even though she was American, he was the Italian son, and he’d been raised to value keeping his mother happy.

Hesitating on the threshold, he scanned the room and searched for a woman holding a red rose—the match to the poor, straggly item he’d belatedly retrieved from his suit pocket. All he needed to do was find her and let her know something had come up. Simple. It should only take a minute.

Cari Christensen bit her lip and wished she could drown her red rose in the glass of wine that sat untouched in front of her.

“Five more minutes,” she promised herself. “And then, if he’s not here, I’m going to drop that rose into a trash basket and melt into the crowd. Without that, he’ll never know who I am.”

He was almost half an hour late. One half hour. That ought to be good enough. She’d promised her best friend, Mara, that she would go through with this, but she hadn’t promised to spend all night at it. She sighed, carefully avoiding eye contact with any of the interested males shouldering their way past the bar, wishing with all her heart that she was home snuggled up with a good book. Mara meant well, but couldn’t understand that Cari wasn’t looking for Mr. Right. She wasn’t looking for mister anyone at all. She didn’t want a man. She didn’t want a relationship. She didn’t even want a husband. She’d done that once already and it had turned her life into a living hell.

“Once bitten, twice shy,” was her motto. She had no intention of going through that sort of heartbreak again.

But how could Mara understand that? She’d married her childhood sweetheart, settled down in a cute little ranch house and had two adorable kids. Her life was full of piano recitals and pictures on the refrigerator and picnics and kittens. Cari’s marriage hadn’t turned out that way. They were two very different people, despite the fact that they had been best friends forever.

“Some people find the golden ring swimming in their cereal in the morning, slip it on their finger, and go skipping through life,” was how Cari tried to explain it to Mara. “And others drop it in the sand at the beach and spend the rest of their life digging to get it back.”

“That’s just silly,” Mara had retorted. “Do you think my life is perfect or something?”

“Yes, Mara, I do. Compared to mine, it is.”

“Oh, Cari.” Mara had taken her hand and held it tightly. “What happened with Brian and … and the baby … well, it was just horrible. It shouldn’t have happened to anyone, much less someone like you who deserves so much better.” She blinked rapidly as tears filled her dark eyes. “But you’ve got to try again. There’s someone out there for you. I just know it. And once you find the right man …”

The right man. Was there such a creature? Even Mara didn’t know the details of what her marriage had really been like. If she did, she might not be so quick to try to throw her back into the deep end of the pool.

“Mara, will you please give it up? I’m perfectly satisfied with my life the way it is now.”

“Oh, Cari!” She sighed tragically. “I can’t bear the thought of you sitting at home sniffing over old movies on one more Valentine’s Day.”

Was that what this was all about?

“Wait! Hold it. I don’t give a darn about Valentine’s Day. It’s a made-up holiday. Who cares?”

“Don’t try to fool me, Cari Christensen. I know you better than that.”

“Mara, no!”

“You need a man.”

Mara looked so fierce, Cari had to laugh. “I don’t know why I let you be my friend.”

“Because you know I’m looking out for what’s best for you.”

Cari sighed. She knew she was beat. But she had to pretend to fight on. “I don’t need anyone looking out for me.”

“You do, too. I’m your assigned fairy godmother. Get used to it.”

“No.”

Mara, of course, wouldn’t give up at all, and that was why Cari was sitting here in the Longhorn Lounge, holding a sad little red rose and waiting for a man named Randy who Mara had assured her was the exact match for her.

“Just wait. He’s special. You’ll be surprised.”

So she was doing this for her friend. She planned to smile a lot and act interested in Randy’s tales of male world conquests, eat a nice dinner in the dining room here at the lounge, get a headache about time for ordering dessert, make a nice apology and head for home. From then on, her answering machine could take care of things for her. And maybe Mara would give up. After all, she’d tried.

The door opened and a man entered, opening his cell phone as he came. Tall and dark and dressed in a beautifully cut suit instead of the jeans and casual shirts most of the men here wore, he grabbed the attention of a lot of onlookers. Something about the way he held himself drew the eye. Or it might just have been the fact that he was the most ruggedly handsome man she’d ever seen this side of the cinema. His thick, dark hair was exquisitely cut and yet managed to give the impression of being a bit long and a bit careless—as though it had just been ruffled by a renegade breeze or a lover’s fingers. His broad shoulders strained the silk suit as he turned, and the knife-sharp crease in his slacks only served to emphasize the muscularity of his thighs. A Greek statue brought to life and disguised in a modern business suit.

She shivered, and then had to smile to herself. One thing was certain, this couldn’t possibly be her man Randy. And she was glad of that. In her experience, high-powered, incredibly handsome men were the worst kind. But she had to admit he had his attractions.

Eye candy, they called it. Lucky she was on a diet.

She pulled her attention away and looked at her gold watch. One more minute and she would be free.

“Sorry, Mara,” she would say on the phone to her friend tomorrow. “He didn’t show. Consider it a sign. And don’t think you’re going to get me to do this again.”

A shadow fell over her and she looked up to find a rather beefy-looking man in a Stetson and tight jeans grinning down at her.

“Hey, little lady, why don’t you let me buy you one of them fancy drinks with the umbrellas and fruit and such?” he suggested, all swagger and no appeal.

Inwardly she groaned, but she had enough control not to let it show. “No, thank you, cowboy,” she said, trying to remain pleasant as she slid down off the bar stool and turned toward the door. “I was just leaving.”

“No need to rush off,” he said, effectively blocking her exit route. “Why, you’re as pretty as a cactus flower, ain’t ya’?”

She flashed him a tight smile and lifted her chin, letting him know she was no pushover. “And just as prickly, honey. Better stand back. You don’t want to get stuck.”

His face darkened. “Now you listen here …”

But just as suddenly as the cowboy had appeared in her line of sight, he now faded away, because someone bigger and more impressive had come into the picture, and everything else seemed to melt around them. She felt his presence before she saw him and she pulled in a quick breath, almost a gasp. Slowly, she raised her eyes.

Sure enough, it was the man she’d seen coming in the doorway a few minutes before—the man she’d been so sure could not have anything to do with her or her life. He was standing before her, holding out a bedraggled red rose, and asking her a question. Her mind seemed to go blank. She swayed. And she couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

“What?” she asked numbly, looking up at him as though she were blinking into the sun.

Max was caught between interest and annoyance. He wanted to get this over with and get out of here, but he’d already bungled things. He’d managed fairly easily to find this pretty lady with the head full of blond curls and a frilly little black dress. Her attire revealed a figure that was full and rounded in all the right places and legs that made looking worthwhile.

But the problem was, he couldn’t remember her name. His mother had said it often enough, over and over, whenever she told the old story of how the Triple M Ranch had been swindled from her family. This was the daughter of the woman who had done his mother dirty—but what was her name again? Something-something Kerry, wasn’t it?

“Miss Kerry?” he repeated when she didn’t hear him the first time.

“Oh!” she said, looking shell-shocked. “You can’t be—I mean—Are … are you …?”

“Exactly.” He waved the rose at her and nodded toward the one she held. “I was hoping we would have some time to get to know each other tonight,” he said smoothly. “However, sadly, it is not to be. Sorry to do this to you, but something has just come up and I’m going to have to take a rain check.”

“Oh.”

He stopped, nonplussed. She seemed rather sweet and she was definitely embarrassed. Not what he was expecting. Was she taking this as a sort of rejection? Well, he supposed that made sense from her point of view. But instead of the arrogant siren he’d imagined from the tales his mother told, a woman whose ego probably had too hard a shell to be bruised in any way, she took this personally. Did she think he’d taken one look and decided she wasn’t worth wasting time on? Despite everything, he didn’t want to hurt the woman.

“My mother sends her best wishes,” he said, his gaze flickering appreciatively over her pretty face. Interestingly, she wasn’t his usual type. He tended to favor fashion models—long, cool ladies who were decorative and yet mature enough to know the score. Young innocents wanted to fall in love all the time. That sort of clingy attachment was neither in his nature nor in the cards. He’d spent a lifetime observing the human condition. In his opinion, falling in love was for suckers who were in denial and hoping for a fairy tale. He considered himself too hard-nosed to fall for such nonsense.

But there was something appealing about this young woman just the same. She looked intelligent and quick, even though she was gaping a bit. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, framed by thick, dark lashes and accented by a pert nose that seemed to have a dusting of freckles just for spice. Her hair, the color of spring sunshine, was a stylishly tangled mass that kept falling over her eyes, making her reach up to push a way through in order to see him clearly.

Hardly what he’d expected. From what his mother had told him, he’d been sure he was going to dislike her intensely. Now he wasn’t so certain.

“I’m hoping we’ll be able to do this another time,” he said, actually meaning it. “May I call you tomorrow?”

“Oh,” she said again, her lovely crystal eyes enormous as she stared at him. “I … I guess so.”

Her vocabulary wasn’t extensive. Or maybe he’d been a bit too brusque. His friends and employees had accused him of that more than once, and he regretted it. He didn’t mean to be rude.

But he had no time for this. Shrugging, he gave her a cool smile and turned for the exit. He was almost out the door when he remembered the stupid rose in his hand. She might as well have it. After all, what was he going to do with it?

Turning back, he found her still watching him, wide-eyed. Something about the look in those huge blue eyes …

“Oh, what the hell,” he said impetuously. Leaving her behind would be like telling a puppy you didn’t want him to follow you home. “Why don’t you come along? We’ll stop and grab something to eat somewhere else.”

He congratulated himself right away. It was a good idea. Yes, that way he had the original obligation out of the way and yet didn’t do any damage to the hope of a future relationship. At the same time, he wouldn’t feel quite so guilty when he called his mother later. Brilliant!

“I … well, maybe …” Cari cleared her throat.

She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t seem to get a full sentence out. This wasn’t like her. But the fact that the man was so diametrically different from what she’d pictured had completely thrown her for a loop and she was taking some time to get over her shock. For the moment, she seemed to be putty in his hands, and the next thing she knew, she was hurrying out of the club with one of those same hands planted squarely between her shoulder blades. She was going with him, or so it seemed. She glanced back, not sure of the wisdom of heading into the dark of night with a stranger.

But he was Mara’s husband’s cousin. At least, that was what her friend had claimed.

The funny thing was, as she looked back at the noisy club, she thought she’d caught a flashing glimpse of a red rose being carried by a tall, sandy-haired young man with glasses. But everything was happening so quickly, she hardly registered that sight. And her companion tended to fill up her attention. So she went along with him, half skipping in her wobbly high heels to keep up, as they hurried to his long, low and very flashy car.

“Oh, my gosh,” she said as he opened the door to the passenger’s seat for her.

“It’s a Ferrari,” he said, frowning slightly. “Surely you’ve seen Ferraris around town. I thought Dallas was crawling with them.”

She nodded as she sank into the luxurious leather. “Of course. I’ve just never been in one before,” she told him, then winced. Maybe she should have kept that to herself.

He lowered himself into the driver’s seat and leaned forward to punch the address they were aiming at into the GPS, then turned to look at her with one slick eyebrow raised. “From what I’ve heard of your background, I would have thought fast cars and living in luxury were right down your alley.”

She frowned at him, puzzled. Did he have her mixed up with some other blind date? “Who would have told you a thing like that?”

He gazed at her for a moment, then shrugged, looking reasonably adorable in his faux bewilderment. “Texas,” he muttered, starting the car. “This place always surprises me.”

And that statement surprised her. She was about to mention that Mara had said he’d grown up outside of Galveston, but her power of speech got lost as she noticed again just how incredibly good-looking this man was. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. His suit had probably cost more than her secondhand car. His gorgeous black hair, his wonderful tanned skin, the way his thighs swelled against the fabric of his slacks, all created a picture guaranteed to set off the female heart rate. His shirt was open at the neck, revealing more tanned skin and just a hint of crispy, crinkly chest hair. If she were the swooning type, she’d be out cold by now.

But she wasn’t, she reminded herself sharply. Not her style at all. And there was another thing. All this embarrassment of hunky male riches didn’t add up somehow. Mara’s husband was basically a cutie, but to think that he had someone like this in his family boggled the mind.

But it was too late to say anything, anyway, because the low, slinky sports car had taken off like a rocket. As her body slammed back against the soft leather seat, she felt as though she had to hold on for dear life, her heart in her throat.

The car came to a stop at a light. She gulped in a mouthful of air and turned sharply toward him, letting him know she hadn’t loved it.

“Wow. Do you always drive like this?” she asked a bit testily, pushing her hair back with one hand. “If so, you must have a permanent seat named after you at traffic court.”

He seemed surprised by her strong voice and point of view, but laughed.

“I’m just trying this baby out. I picked her up at the showroom earlier today and I wanted to see what she can handle.” He grimaced. “But I don’t know the streets around here very well, so I think that will do it. Sorry. I should have warned you.”

He gave her a lopsided grin, feeling no chagrin at all over the pleasure that surge of power had given him. But his grin faded as he looked at her.

That crazy, curly hair kept falling down over her eye and he had the oddest impulse to reach out and brush it back for her. The thought made his fingers tingle. He found himself looking at where her tiny, shell-like ear was peeking out from among the curls, and then staring at the smooth, creamy skin of her neck and imagining his lips there and his tongue …

The car behind them honked and he realized the light had turned green. He turned his attention back to his driving. But his mind was on the woman next to him in the car. Something about her tickled his fancy in a strange and unfamiliar way.

And suddenly her name came back to him. Celinia Jade Kerry. How could he have forgotten a name like that? Celinia Jade. Rather a mouthful, wasn’t it?

“Mind if I call you C.J.?” he asked her a bit sardonically.

She blinked, truly puzzled. “Why would you do that?”

“For short. It’s easier to remember.”

She frowned, her nose wrinkling. “But …”

He turned the car onto the freeway and they were off again. Her words disappeared in the roar of the engine, and he had to merge with a tangle of speeding traffic, which didn’t leave him time to ask her to repeat them.

Funny, but now that he thought about it, his mother had told him Celinia Jade Kerry would fit right in with the type of woman he usually dated—the sort his mother, Paula Angeli, actually tended to roll her eyes at.

Not that she knew C.J. very well, but she did know the woman’s mother. Or had, years ago.

“Betty Jean Martin was her name before she married Neal Kerry, the man who stole my family’s ranch,” his mother had told him over morning cappuccino just days ago. They’d been sitting on the terrace of her Italian home, overlooking the Venice canals. “She was my best friend, but when she married Neal behind my back, she became my worst enemy.”

He’d nodded, having heard the story so often, it was a family legend. He had a sneaking suspicion that his mother had thought she was going to marry the man—before her friend Betty Jean had whisked him to the altar—and that in that way she would have been able to get her ranch back. All things considered, he couldn’t be too sorry that hadn’t happened at the time. Besides, his mother had met his father, Carlo Angeli, shortly after, and her life had changed for the better, at least monetarily. That often happened when one married a millionaire.

Still, Max knew the marriage hadn’t been a happy one. His father had rarely been around, and his affairs with the wives of his best friends were legendary. His mother’s life had been wrapped up in her two sons—and in bittersweet memories of a childhood on the Triple M Ranch outside of Dallas, Texas.

“I’m sure Celinia Jade will be just what you’re used to,” his mother went on, waving the letter that had come from the daughter of her old friend. “I still keep in touch with enough old Texans to know what’s going on. She’s a clotheshorse with nothing on her mind deeper than the latest hemlines and whether her newest shade of lip gloss makes her mouth more kissable. Sound familiar?”

“Have you been listening in on my phone conversations again?” he’d teased her.

And that was when she’d rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you get it, Mama?” he told her with loving humor. “I don’t date women for their conversation.”

“Then you’ll probably get along perfectly with the young Miss Kerry.” Paula had frowned, looking at the letter again. “It’s odd to hear from her after all these years. And to have her ask to come visit us.”

“And just lucky timing that I’m leaving for Dallas in a few days and can check out the situation.” He looked at her, noting the dark circles under her eyes. She’d been looking more frail lately. Ever since Gino had died. It broke his heart to see her this way.

“What do you suppose she wants?” he’d asked casually, though he was pretty sure he knew.

“Money.” His mother sighed, shaking her head of graying curls. “The word is she’s in deep financial trouble. Her parents are both gone now and she’s spent her way through what little they left her. She’s looking at you as one big old ATM machine, I have no doubt.”

“Interesting,” he’d murmured, a plan developing in his head. “You’re sure she still has the Triple M Ranch?”

“Oh, yes. She’ll never give that up. Who would?” She winced and he knew she was remembering that her own family had done exactly that—something she could never forgive. “But she probably needs funds to keep it running.”

“A loan?”

Paula laughed. “Hardly. She’d never be able to pay it back. My guess?” She smiled at her son. “She asks a lot of questions about you in her letter. I think she’ll try to get you to marry her.”

“Many have tried,” he noted dryly, only half joking.

“But no one has come close yet,” she agreed with a sigh.

He’d grunted noncommittally, thinking it over. “Call her,” he suggested. “Put her off about her coming here, but tell her I’ll be in town and would like to meet her. Set up a rendezvous.”

She nodded reluctantly. “What are you planning?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “Mama, you know property acquisition is my specialty. I plan to talk her into selling us that ranch you loved so much.”

Her eyes sparkled for just a moment, but she shook her head. “She’ll never do it.”

He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Oh, Max, do be careful. Don’t let her charm you. If she’s anything like her mother was …”

He’d dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he started for the door. “I’ll give her that old famous Texas sweet talkin’ you taught me all about when I was a whippersnapper. She’ll be begging to turn the ranch over to us in no time.”

Looking back at her as he reached the door, he could see a sad, faraway look in her eyes and knew she was thinking about Gino, his older brother who had died a few months before. That look on her face brought a catch to his throat. He would do anything to bring the joy back for her. Anything.

And that was the mission that had brought him to Dallas.

CHAPTER TWO

“SO, TELL me, C.J.,” Max said, looking sideways at Cari as they exited the freeway and turned into a dark, spooky-looking industrial area. A quick flash of lightning lit up the horizon, then disappeared as quickly as it came. The air was electric with possibilities. “How’s life out on the ranch these days?”

She eyed him and shook her head. His conversation was becoming more incomprehensible to her. Her little house could be called ranch-style, but she certainly wasn’t running any cattle in the yard.

“What ranch?”

The ranch your family stole from mine, he thought cynically, his mouth twisting. Are you going to pretend that never happened?

But aloud he said, “The ranch you live on, of course.”

She shook her head. What in the world had Mara told this man in order to get him to spend an evening with her? She knew her friend was subject to occasional flights of imagination, gilding the lily, so to speak, but this was ridiculous.

“I don’t live on a ranch,” she told him firmly. He might as well know the truth.

“Ah. I suppose you’re just a normal, everyday Texas girl.” His voice belied his words. His sarcasm was showing.

But she nodded vigorously, becoming exasperated. “Yes, I am.”

He chuckled. “What is it with you Texans? The popular myth is that you’re all such big talkers, but all the Texans I meet are always trying to pretend they’re just average folks, no matter how filthy rich they are or how much land they own.”

She was at a loss. Surely Mara hadn’t pretended she was from a wealthy family—a wealthy ranching family. Mara knew better.

“But we are mostly just average folks,” she said defensively.

“Hah. Se non è vero, è ben trovato.”

The things he was saying were odd enough, but even odder was the fact that she was beginning to detect what sounded like a faint Italian accent, and that last outburst seemed to seal the deal.

“You know something?” she said accusingly. “You don’t sound like a Texan.”

“Grazie,” he replied with a casual shrug. “I’m only half-Texan, after all. I hope you can forgive my mistakes.”

“Oh.” Half-Texan! And the other half was evidently Italian. How had Mara missed that tiny detail? She bit her lip, wondering if she’d offended him.

“So what did it mean, what you said a minute ago?”

He smiled at her. “I said it’s a good story, even if it isn’t true.”

Before she could express fresh outrage, his phone chimed. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

“It’s my mother,” he said, sounding surprised as he pulled over to the side of the road. “She’s calling from Venice.” He flipped his mobile open.

“Your mother?” Cari gaped at him. She’d heard Italian men were attached to their mothers, but this was ridiculous.

“Sì, Mama.”

He said something into the phone in what she assumed was Italian. It sounded like Italian. It even looked like Italian. Cari couldn’t catch anything she recognized, but she watched the whole thing, fascinated. There was a lot of near-shouting and gesticulating, and suddenly he pulled the phone away from his ear and said, “Would you like to speak to my mother?”

She gazed at him in horror. His mother? Why on earth would she want to speak to his mother? What would she say?

“Not really,” she said, shaking her head vehemently.

He said something else in Italian and clicked the phone shut. Turning, he eyed her narrowly.

“So the old resentments still live, do they?” he noted, his gaze pinning her to the back of the seat with its dark, stormy intensity.

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact that you wouldn’t speak to my mother.”

Oh, this was just too rich. She’d signed on for a few hours of hopefully friendly conversation with a strange man, meal included, and that was about it. There had been no extended-family privileges implied in the deal. Now she was getting annoyed. Really annoyed.

“What am I supposed to talk to your mother about?” she asked heatedly, then waved a hand in the air. “I suppose I could give her a critique of how her son handles blind dates. But I’d hate to be insulting at this early stage of the evening.”

He laughed, his gaze traveling over her face appreciatively. She glared at him.

“But listen,” he said, his grin changing to a thoughtful frown. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. She says someone called and left a message that I was late to meet you.” He shrugged, making a face and looking at her for confirmation. “I wasn’t late. I was early.”

She held his gaze. “You were late.”

His frown deepened. “So you were already calling people and complaining that I wasn’t there as early as you were?”

“I didn’t call anyone.” She couldn’t have called anyone. She had a sudden picture of her phone, attached to the battery charger, still sitting on her kitchen counter where she’d left it. Darn. That made her feel naked and unprotected. A girl needed a good phone, especially when she was on a crazy and confusing blind date like this one.

“Well, somebody knew about it and called my mother.”

Cari began to feel as though she were on a rapidly moving merry-go-round with oddly formed horses and scary faces leering at her out of the shadows. This entire date was becoming more and more surreal.

“Let me get this straight. Your mother’s in Italy. Why does she care about whether you were on time to meet me or not?”

He gave her a slow smile and a long look, one that made her feel strangely languorous. Funny, despite how annoyed she was, she had to admit this was one sexy man. Given a chance, he could turn on the charm and wipe away most of her irritation.

“Because she’s a caring person,” he said smoothly. “And she wants us to get along well. For old-time’s sake.”

As she puzzled that over, his phone rang again. Max saw that it was Tito and barked, “Go,” into the receiver.

“Where are you?”

“About a block away. I’ll be there in a minute.” He glanced at Cari. She seemed absorbed in the view outside her window. “Does Sheila know I’m coming?” he asked softly.

“Well, no.”

“Why haven’t you told her?”

“Well …”

“Have you filled her in on the parameters of the situation?”

“Actually, no.”

“Why not?”

“Listen, boss, like I told you, she’s not exactly here.”

“But you said …”

“The baby’s here.”

That struck him like a thunderbolt. The whole point of this operation had been to find the baby. Gino’s baby. Finding Sheila was secondary, but he hadn’t expected them to be separated.

“I’m almost there,” he said, signing off and dropping the mobile into the center bay. He turned to look at Cari. Why had he brought her along again? Hmm.

“Where are we going?” she asked, thinking maybe she should have established things like this before she’d agreed to go along with him.

“To take care of some … personal concerns.” He put the car in gear. He’d thought he was going to be confronting his brother’s ex-girlfriend, trying to get the truth out of her as to whether she’d had a baby with Gino. Now he knew she wasn’t there. But a baby was. What did that mean? He was going to assume the baby was Gino’s until someone proved different.

Turning to check for traffic, he pulled the car back into action.

“It should be right around this next corner. Ah, here it is.”

“This is it?” Cari gazed at the run-down apartment building and frowned. Loud music was coming from an upper bank of windows. A dog was rummaging in a pile of papers near the entryway. One of the streetlights was broken, casting a pall on the area. She thought she saw someone withdrawing into the shadows across the street. This was not a neighborhood she would have ventured into if she’d been doing the driving.

“I thought we were going to get something to eat,” she mentioned hopefully, thinking a nice bright restaurant on a busy street would be better than this gloomy place.

“We will.” Leaning forward, he looked up at the ugly building and frowned. “I just have a little business to take care of here. I’ll make it quick. Wait here.”

No way. Cari looked at the empty street and shivered. “Actually, I think I’d rather go where you’re going.”

“Your choice.” He shrugged. “Come along, then.”

As he got out of the car and looked at the neighborhood, he couldn’t really blame her. He didn’t know Dallas well, but he was pretty sure nice neighborhoods didn’t look like this. He couldn’t leave her on her own out here, no matter how well he locked up his fancy car.

On the other hand, he didn’t want her intimately involved in his family business. There was already too much family mixed into all this. Maybe it hadn’t been such a brilliant move to bring her along after all.

He gazed at her speculatively as she came to join him, noting again how her riotous hair spun a magical frame around her appealing face. The ruffles of her bodice shimmered, giving her movements a fluid look, and her short, filmy black skirt followed suit with a flirty tantalizing style. There wasn’t a hint of slick sophistication about her, just down-home, sexy woman. The sort of woman who made you think of crisp clean sheets on a big, wide bed. Was he allowed to think about her that way?

That made him laugh a little. What would his mother say?

Oh, Max, do be careful. Don’t let her charm you. If she’s anything like her mother was …

That was what she’d said, but he knew she didn’t really think he would do anything hasty. Oh, she was serious about getting the Triple M Ranch back, but what she really wanted was for him to charm C.J., bewitch her, work on her emotions and manipulate her into selling it back to his family.

He’d been confident. From what he’d heard of her, he’d assumed this daughter of his mother’s old rival would be just the sort of woman he was used to, beautiful and spoiled, born and bred to the flashy nightlife and the party scene where those with money tended to play. From what he’d seen so far, his read had been way off. Could he handle a woman like this? Was a little charm going to do the trick? Looking down into her clear, intelligent eyes, he had to admit this wasn’t going to be as easy as it had seemed from across the Atlantic.

And what would happen if he let her follow him into the apartment he was planning to visit? The last thing in the world he wanted was a witness to his pending interview with whatever he would find there. A cool gust of a breeze chased leaves from between the buildings and brought the smell of pending rain. She shivered and he glanced up the driveway, noting where Tito had parked his white rental sedan.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, giving her his most winning smile. “Things aren’t working out quite the way I’d thought they would. More complications have arisen than I expected. I’m going to have my assistant drive you back to the club. You can wait for me there. Tito will take good care of you.”

She flashed him a look and raised her chin. “Forget it. I’m not switching partners at this late date.”

His head went back as though she’d hit him. Was she implying …? That floored him. He came off as throwing his weight around sometimes, but he didn’t like being taken for a jerk. “No, wait, you’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Listen,” she said frankly, tossing her hair. “I’m not accusing you of anything. But this has been one weird blind date so far. I like to keep my feet on the ground and my head out of the clouds. I think I’ll just stick with you until you take me home.”

“Ah. Better the devil you know, is that it?” He tried to act in his usual debonair fashion, but at the same time, he gazed at her uneasily. This was the woman he’d thought he was going to manipulate? Obviously, those plans were due for a rethink. But that would come later. Right now, he had other problems on his hands.

“This might not be pleasant,” he warned her. “I’m not sure what we’re facing here. So be prepared for anything.”

She shrugged, wondering if he had noticed how her fingers were trembling. She was nowhere near as sure of herself as she tried to sound. When she’d said this date was weird, she’d been soft-pedaling the circumstances. She’d been bowled over at first by his presence, his confidence, his obvious savoir faire, and she’d been intimidated. But that was then.

Now, with the calls from the mother and the visits to slum neighborhoods, she had a bad feeling about this whole situation. He might be Mara’s husband’s cousin, but he was not your usual Texas boy. She’d have to keep this man in her sights and stay on her toes.

“If there’s a problem, maybe I can help,” she suggested. “I don’t want to drag your assistant away when you need him most.” She managed a stilted smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t get in the way. But I’ll be in the background the whole time, ready to help if you need me. In the meantime, you won’t even know I’m there.”

His gaze was skeptical. “Right.” He grimaced, but decided to play this one by ear. He ran a hand through his thick hair and sighed.

“Okay. If you’re up for this, let’s go on in and see what Tito has gotten me into now.”

The building was dirty and smelled like day-old food. They found the apartment quickly enough. Max knocked and the door opened. A short, stocky man built like a fireplug greeted them nervously, nodding when Cari was introduced, his mind obviously on the business at hand and not on her.

“Let’s see it,” Max said, and Tito stood back to let them in.

Cari followed. She walked into the room totally unprepared for what she would find. The two men went quickly to the far end of the room, and at first she couldn’t see where they were headed. When she caught sight of the baby crib, she froze.

No! Not a baby. Oh please, not a baby. Her breath caught and panic fluttered in her chest. Memories of her own four-month-old baby, Michelle, flooded her senses, hitting her unexpectedly. She wasn’t prepared to deal with this. Cringing, she almost whimpered aloud.

It had been almost two years since the car accident that had taken the lives of her husband, Brian, and Michelle, their much-adored infant. Two years where she’d avoided every possibility of coming face-to-face with a real, live baby. She turned blindly, her impulse to rush out into the hallway and then away, as far away as she could get. Anything to escape the pain that seeing a baby like this represented.

Just as she hit the doorway, the baby began to cry. She stopped, unable to take another step. There were little gurgling sobs at first, then full-fledged piercing screams.

Turning, she looked back. A baby was crying. A baby needed comfort. Everything in her, every instinct, began to pull her back. Babies were tiny, helpless things with little waving arms and tiny kicking feet. They needed help. She was a woman, naturally equipped with the talent and emotions custom made for doing that. And yet …

She stood where she was, unable to take those steps that would bring her back to the baby’s crib, unable to take steps out the door. Closing her eyes, she tried to catch her breath and still the wild beating of her heart. The look, the feel, the smell of her own lost baby filled her head. And the pain was almost too intense to bear.

Max’s entire focus was on the baby. As he looked down at the dark-haired infant, his heart swelled with bittersweet anticipation. Was there a hint of Gino in that little face? Did the hands look like his brother’s? Was this child all that was left of his brother’s life? That was very possibly the situation. He would move heaven and earth to find out. And if it turned out to be the case, there was no way he would let this baby go.

“Boy or girl?” he asked the stalwart assistant standing beside him.

“Boy.”

He supposed he should have known. The gown, the blanket, everything was blue. Despite the cluttered, messy condition of the room, things inside the crib looked clean enough.

“Name?”

“The babysitter says his name is Jamie.”

“Babysitter?” For the first time since he’d come in the room, he raised his gaze from his study of the baby. “There’s a babysitter?”

Tito nodded. “I told her to wait in the bedroom.”

Max nodded back, then his eyes narrowed. “Where’s Sheila?” he asked, naming his brother’s girlfriend.

He’d only met her once. She was pretty, of course, and nice enough in her way, but her way tended to be a ditzy combination of brainless chatter and limitless desire for luxurious things. She and Gino were no longer an item when he was killed in the crash of a small plane. No one seemed to know what had happened to her. It was only months later that she began calling, claiming she’d had Gino’s child, demanding money.

Tito’s shrug was all encompassing. “The babysitter doesn’t know. She says she was hired three days ago, and Sheila was supposed to be back in twenty-four hours. She has no contact number and Sheila hasn’t called.”

“Have you searched the place for phone numbers or addresses?”

“Of course. I haven’t found anything relevant.”

“Damn. Well, we can’t just wait here.”

“The babysitter said she was getting pretty scared herself. She was about on the point of calling the police when I got here.”

“But she didn’t?”

“No. At least, that’s what she claims.”

“Good.” Max nodded again. “We’ll get a local lawyer to handle this before we speak to the authorities.”

Tito looked at him intently. “So you plan to take the baby?”

“Of course.”

Tito nodded, but as if on cue, the baby began to fuss.

Max stared down at it. So did Tito. The fussing got more serious.

“It’s crying,” Tito said at last.

“Yes. So it seems.” Max backed away a bit. Crying babies were not within his sphere of experience and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know more.

Tito tried wiggling his fingers in front of the baby’s face, but he only cried louder.

“It won’t stop,” he noted, beginning to look worried.

Max frowned, uneasy as well. “No.” He looked at his assistant. “Was it crying before?”

Tito shook his head. “It’s been asleep, I think. I know it wasn’t making this kind of noise.”

“It is now.” Max winced as the decibel level increased.

“Well, what do you do when they cry?” Tito asked his boss, seemingly at a loss.

Max’s frown grew fiercer. “How the hell should I know?”

The two men looked at each other, then back down at the baby. The mood was grim.

By now, Cari had managed to cross the room and was right behind them. She could just barely see the baby. He was crying as though his heart would break, holding nothing back. Her fear, her panic, was gone now. Her heart thumped in her chest, but she had things under a fair modicum of control. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her way between the men.

“Don’t knock yourselves out looking for the off switch,” she advised tartly. “They don’t have one.”

Max stepped back, seeming relieved as she reached the crib and curled her fingers around the bar. Steeling herself, she looked down, bracing for the sight. A mass of dark hair, fat cheeks red with crying, eyes squinted shut, two little fists waving in the air—this child looked nothing like hers. Relief flooded her and she closed her eyes for two seconds, then glanced down again and spoke to him.

“Hey little fellow,” she crooned. “What’s all this about? Don’t you worry. You’re going to be okay.”

The sound of a feminine voice stopped the last cry in his throat and he opened his dark brown eyes and looked up at her. A remnant sob shook him, but he stared at her curiously as though she were something brand-new and possibly very interesting.

She smiled. He was adorable. Reaching down, she gathered him up and took him into her arms. And then she closed her eyes and let the feeling wash over her. She had a baby close against her. That special sort of enchantment had been her daily experience for such a short time before it was taken from her. And now, for the first time in two years, she could feel it again. Tears welled in her eyes.

“You can handle this, then?” the man who’d brought her here was saying.

She nodded without looking at him. She didn’t want him to see that her eyes were wet.

Max stared at her. He wasn’t always as sensitive as he should be to women’s feelings, but he could tell something was going on here. He just wasn’t quite sure what it was, and Tito beckoned from the door to the bedroom. He hesitated only a moment before he decided she was okay, and he turned and went into the side room to question the babysitter.

Cari held the baby gently and cooed, rocking the tiny body, until all whimpering quieted. The little eyes closed, long, dark lashes fluttering against rounded cheeks, and then he was still. She kissed his head and hummed softly. It seemed so natural. Her own baby had trained her well, though she didn’t want to think about that. Blocking out the past was a part of accepting the present for her right now. She’d done a lot of time in her own personal agony and she couldn’t live that way forever. But she’d spent much too long trying to avoid all contact with babies, hoping to avoid the pain memories brought with them. Now that she’d been thrust into this situation and forced to deal with it, she found she was in a special sort of heaven and she didn’t even look up when the men came back into the room. She was floating on feelings and ignoring everything else.

When she heard the woman’s voice she looked up in surprise, but hardly paid attention as the older lady left the room, Tito leaving close behind her. Vaguely, she was aware that this had been the babysitter and that Tito was driving the woman home, but it seemed to have nothing much to do with her enjoyment of this wonderful baby.

Max watched her for a moment, surprised to see how quickly she’d adapted to a style of nurturing he didn’t remotely understand.

“So, what do you think of him?” he asked.

“He’s a duck,” she murmured, smiling wistfully as she hugged him close and rocked him. “A sweet little baby duck. I don’t ever want to put him down.”

He nodded. “He looks pretty good to me, too. As long as he’s not crying.”

She flashed a startled look at the tall man beside her. She’d had dealings with a man who was irrationally bothered by a baby crying. It wasn’t a good thing. But she calmed down immediately. After all, what he’d said was probably a common complaint.

“Who is he?” she asked, stroking the hair on his little head. “What’s the connection?”

He hesitated, then decided he might as well tell the truth. “He’s my brother’s child,” he said. “At least, that’s the assumption. We’ll find out after DNA testing is done.”

She drew back. Something didn’t sit well with her. All the sense of well-being brought on by holding this baby seemed to melt away quickly.

“He’s your brother’s baby and you’ve never seen him before?” She frowned, searching his face for clues.

He shrugged. “I’ve been in Italy,” he said, as though that explained everything.

She made a face. “Where’s your brother? Or the baby’s mother, for that matter?”

“Good question.” He decided to ignore the part about his brother. “We don’t know. She seems to have disappeared. The babysitter said she should have been back days ago.”

She nodded, taking that in. “So I guess you’re going to call the police?”

Without missing a beat, he said firmly, “No. Not yet.”

“But …”

He moved impatiently. “Listen C.J., this is really none of your affair. I’ve been involved in the search for this baby for weeks now. We’ve finally found him and we’ll do what we think necessary.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “Why do you keep calling me that?” she asked. “My name is Cari. It’s a fine name and it doesn’t need shortening to C.J.”

He raised a dark eyebrow. “A little formal, isn’t it? You actually want me to call you Miss Kerry all the time?”

“No.” He was such an annoying man. “Drop the ‘miss’. I’m not a Southern belle.”

He looked puzzled. “Let me get this straight. You want to be called by your last name?”

“Cari isn’t my last name,” she interjected quickly. “I don’t know where you got that idea. It’s my given name. Just plain Cari. And there’s no J involved at all.”

He shook his head, bewildered by that. “Your name is Celinia Jade Kerry, right?”

“No.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the silly name he was trying to pin on her. “My name is Cari Christensen. That’s been my name for quite some time now. In fact, it’s official, and I’ve got proof. Want to see my driver’s license?”

He stared into her clear blue eyes for a long moment. She certainly looked like a woman telling the absolute truth. The light began to dawn. Something had been a little off about this entire operation from the start. She hadn’t fit the profile he was expecting. He should have trusted his instincts. And now—what the hell had he done? This was the wrong woman.

“Uh-oh,” he said at last.

CHAPTER THREE

CARI sighed, impatience building ever higher as she hugged the baby to her chest. This date had been strange from the start, but it was getting stranger.

First this man had turned out to be so incredibly different from what she’d expected. Then there was the Italian element—not to mention the accent. The mother on the phone. Abandoned babies in dirty apartments. An assistant named Tito. If she hadn’t known better, she might think she’d landed in the middle of a scene from a bad B movie and was caught up in some really crazy dialogue. Mara had not forewarned her of all of this.

“Listen, Randy,” she began, eyes flashing as she prepared to read him the riot act.

His own eyes widened and his head went back. “Who the hell is Randy?” he demanded.

Shock jolted through her. This man wasn’t Randy? This man wasn’t the one she’d been waiting for, the one her friend had set her up with? This wasn’t her blind date?

But of course he wasn’t. Hadn’t she suspected that all along? The scales fell from her eyes—so to speak. This wasn’t Mara’s husband’s cousin after all. And that just about explained everything.

“Aren’t you Randy Jeffington?” she asked, though by now she knew darn well he wasn’t.

He shook his head, looking like a man who expected all things in his path to snap into place and had been sorely disappointed once again—a man who was planning to make sure someone paid for this.

“Never heard of him,” he growled at her.

“Uh-oh,” she echoed softly, swaying and feeling just a bit unsteady on her feet.

Suddenly she had a clear and shining picture of a tall, sandy-haired man in glasses carrying a red rose. She’d seen him just as they were leaving the club and she now had an epiphany. That, no doubt, was Randy. Poor guy.

But something in the back of her mind had known all along, hadn’t it? This handsome figure standing before her was just too good to be true. Or too bad, as the case might be.

And poor Randy Jeffington. Was he still wandering around the Longhorn Lounge looking for her? Her hand went to her mouth, her eyes huge.

“Omigosh. We’ve got to go back.”

He nodded grimly. “You’ve got that right. We’ve got the wrong dates.”

“There must be a woman named … whatever that weird name you said was … waiting for you back there.”

“Holding a red rose.”

“Oh, no.” She grimaced tragically. “Too bad we all picked the same color, isn’t it?”

He was still glowering at her. “Too bad we didn’t get identities straight from the beginning,” he said curtly.

She frowned, shifting the baby from one hip to the other and trying to remember how it had happened. “You called me Miss Cari. My name is Cari, with a C. I thought—”

“I called you Miss Kerry with a K.”

“Oh. Well, it was hard to know that at the time.”

“It was perfectly straightforward. You should have guessed.”

“I should have guessed? What about you? You acted like you were sure I was the one. I sort of just … followed along—like a dummy.” She frowned, remembering how she’d almost been in a trance. She could hardly believe that a man like this was the Randy she was waiting for. And it turned out she was right. She sighed plaintively.

“Oh, well. What’s done is done. Now we have to do our best to undo it.”

“Exactly.” He glanced down at the sleeping baby in her arms, then around the simple room. “Let’s get out of here.”

She looked down at the baby. “Are we taking him with us?”

“Well, we’re not going to leave him here.”

“No, I suppose not.” She bit her lip. This didn’t seem right, but she didn’t know what else they could do.

From the crib, she picked up a blanket and wrapped it around the baby while he picked up the diaper bag. Looking up, she sighed as her gaze traveled over the handsome man who’d brought her here. He was like a mythic figure, so tall and strong with matinee-idol looks. When something seemed too good to be true, you had to know it was likely to be so. Oh well, this had been interesting.

“So what is your name, anyway?” she asked as they looked around the apartment to make sure they weren’t forgetting anything.

“Max,” he said grimly. “Max Angeli.”

“And I’m Cari Christensen.”

He looked down at her and almost had to smile. She seemed to be able to maintain a sunny personality despite all odds against it. In contrast to what he was feeling himself, which was dour indeed. “You said that.”

“I thought you might not have caught it in the heat of the moment.”

He nodded, mouth twisting. “I wish you’d mentioned it while we were still at the club,” he said. “There you were waving at me with that damn red rose.”

“Oh!” She stopped and glared at him. “You’re not going to blame this whole catastrophe on me.”

He liked the fire in her eyes. She wasn’t his type and he would never have picked her out of a crowd, but there was something appealing about her just the same. He liked the liveliness of her reactions and he couldn’t resist teasing her a bit.

“Why not?” he said with a careless shrug. “If you’d been on your toes, this wouldn’t have happened. You made me stand up the woman I was supposed to be with. You may have killed that relationship.”

“And you messed up my date with Randy,” she reminded him, though she was beginning to realize he wasn’t really serious.

“Wasn’t it a blind date?” he asked her as they headed out of the apartment. He turned back to make sure the door was locked. “And you know what they say about love.”

“I know they say love is blind, but I think you have to give it a chance to grow before you can kill it.”

“Murderess,” he muttered, choking back a smile.

She sighed, glancing at him sideways. “You’re not exactly the Lone Ranger, my friend,” she chided, teasing him back now. “For all you know, you may have destroyed a great love affair.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You and Randy?”

“Sure. Why not?” She made a face at him. “Romeo and Juliet. Anthony and Cleopatra. Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher.” She struck a pose. “The names Cari and Randy might have belonged right up there with them all.”

“All doomed to tragedy,” he noted helpfully. “If a great passion is meant to be it’ll take more than a missed connection to destroy it.”

“Perhaps.” She flashed him a smile. “And yours, too.”

His laugh was short and humorless. “C.J. and I aren’t meant for love,” he said cynically. “But we are destined to make beautiful music together.”

She looked at him with bewilderment. “How can you know that when you don’t even know who she is?”

He knew enough about C.J. to know she was meant—unfortunately—to be very important in his life. He might not know what she looked like, but he had her number, just the same. His smile was bittersweet as he shrugged, pushing open the outer door to the building for her.

“Destiny is relentless.”

“Destiny. Such a strong word.”

But all that was forgotten as she looked at what they were heading into.

“It’s starting to rain,” she said with dismay, just as they stepped outside and the door clicked shut behind them.

“Yes,” Max said, wondering what else could go wrong. Just another layer of bad luck he supposed. But this was getting monotonous.

“Where’s the car?” she asked.

“The car?”

He looked where he’d parked it. The space was empty. His first thought was—did Tito take it? But no. He glanced at the driveway. Tito’s rental car was gone. He looked back at the place where he’d left his newly minted beauty. Sure enough, it was gone, too. His heart sank. And now he knew what else could go wrong.

He swore coldly and obscenely, and she pulled the baby closer, frowning at him, even though the words were in Italian. Reaching into his pocket, he realized he’d left his mobile in the car, which had now been stolen. He swore again.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked curtly.

She shook her head. “I forgot to bring it,” she said.

He stared at her, unable to believe this string of bad luck wasn’t over yet.

“My car’s been stolen. You have no phone. I have no phone. We just locked ourselves out of the building and it’s starting to rain.”

She sighed, shoulders sagging. That was quite a litany of woes. “We’re also stuck in the middle of a rather bad neighborhood,” she reminded him, looking around at the menacing shadows.

“Not for long.” He picked up the diaper bag and glanced down the street. The lights from downtown were visible in the sky. It was quite evident which way they needed to travel. “We’re going to have to walk, at least until we can flag down a cab. Let’s go. The sooner we start out, the sooner we’ll get there.”

Cari looked down at her three-inch heels. “Okay,” she said sadly, trying to smile.

He looked down at them, too. “Those shoes aren’t made for walking,” he noted dryly.

That was certainly a fact, but her feet sure were cute in them, and what that angle did to her beautiful legs was beyond mentioning. He swallowed hard as the thought came and nestled into his senses. Raising his gaze to her clear blue eyes, he got another jolt of erotic sensation and he shook his head, trying to stave it off. This was no time to let his libido go wild.

“I could carry you,” he said gruffly, still holding her gaze with his own. “But with the baby and all …”

“You will not!” she retorted, taking a step away from him. “I can walk. Believe me, I’ve done it for years.” She started off down the street, just to prove it. “I’ll carry the baby. You get the diaper bag. It’s heavier.”

They set off into the dark neighborhood, trying to ignore the drizzle. Most of the buildings seemed to be industrial and there was no sign of life coming from any that lined the street they were hurrying down. It was downright spooky.

Max pushed all thought about his beautiful Ferrari out of his mind. There was no point in mourning over a car when he had so many other things to worry about. An occasional driver went by, driving too fast to be flagged down, and there were no people out on the street—at least, none that made their presence known. But there was an eerie feeling, a sort of vague menace. This was not the sort of neighborhood either one of them would have wandered into voluntarily. Bad things tended to happen at night in areas like this.

Cari was feeling the creepiness as well, and instinctively she held the baby closer. Looking down, she felt a quick surge of tenderness for the child. Babies should be protected from harm and that was what adults where there for. But just as she had that thought, a flash of pain sliced through her. If only she’d been able to protect her own baby from harm. If only Brian had been more careful. If only …

No. She shook the regrets away. She’d been down that road so many times. Right after the accident that took her husband and her baby, she’d spent months almost drowning in recriminations, all the old “if only” cries of the heart. It had taken time and a bit of counseling to help her pull out of that downward spiral and she never wanted to take a plunge like that again. You could either immerse yourself in the past and die bit by bit, or reach out to the future and make a new life. Slowly, painfully, she was trying to do the latter.

But for now the past was useful in the training she’d had with her own baby. She seemed to bond naturally with this one, and that felt better than she had any right to expect.

So she looked over her shoulder, wishing they were in a better neighborhood.

“Do you have a weapon with you?” she asked Max, not really expecting him to answer in the affirmative, just expressing trepidation.

“Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my Glock,” he quipped, but she noticed he took a quick look over his shoulder as well. “If only I’d known I’d need it.”

“There you go,” she said lightly. “I guess you were never a Boy Scout.”

He gave her a long sideways look. “What would that have done for me?”

She shrugged her free shoulder and pulled the baby more closely to the other one. “You’d have known about their motto. Be Prepared.”

“Oh, I’m prepared.”

“Still, you’re not a real Texan, are you?” She sighed, pretending it was such a pity.

That was meant to get his goat and it did the job.

“I’m Italian,” he said with quick native pride. “That’s just as good, you know.” He grunted. “On second thought, it’s better.”

“Is it?” She gave him a mockingly taunting look. “From what I hear, Italians are pretty emotional, compared to Texans. They talk real fast, yell a lot, say outlandish things.”

“Sort of like Texans?” He got the joke, but he grinned and played along. “Why not? We enjoy life more than most people do. What’s more, we’re warm, loyal and generous to a fault.” His voice dropped in a husky way that was meant to make her senses quiver. “And we’re the most passionate lovers on earth.”

She was glad the darkness hid how hot her cheeks suddenly became. The surge of warmth surprised her. She’d fallen for this guy’s good looks and masculinity from the first, but in a reserved way, the way she dealt with most of life. She usually didn’t let emotions—or even attractions—down into her inner core. Her heart was protected by a thick wall of experience, not much of it good. Had she actually allowed this handsome Italian to get to her? She couldn’t let that happen.

“Well, good for you,” she said as lightly as she could manage. “I guess Miss C. J. Kerry will be glad to hear it.”

He frowned, not pleased to be reminded of the mess this evening had turned into. He wasn’t happy that he’d done anything to put Celinia Jade Kerry in a hostile mood. He needed her happy and compliant. The woman might be short on cash, but to a female, a sense of having been overlooked and ignored for another could blot all that out. He was going to have to be very tactful with the lady—tactful and apologetic.

Still, the night wasn’t a total loss at all. They had found Gino’s baby. Just an hour before, he hadn’t been sure there really was a baby. And now Jamie was in Cari’s arms and on his way to a complete medical checkup and a DNA test.

The fact that baby Jamie’s mother was missing disturbed him, and yet it made things easier in the short run. Eventually, he had no doubt they would find her. For just a moment he imagined what it would be like for his mother when he returned to Venice with Gino’s baby in tow—and hopefully, the deed to her family ranch in hand. Maybe that would erase some of the sadness from her eyes and bring back just a touch of joy to her life. That had been his goal from the start of this adventure. His mother’s happiness meant a lot to him.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the small group of nasty neighborhood thugs until they stepped out in front of them, blocking their way. The effect on his danger radar was immediate, though. He stopped Cari and the baby with an outstretched arm, putting his body between her and the three gang-bangers.

“What do you want?” he barked at them.

“I don’t know, man,” one of them sneered. Tall and thin, he wore a red bandanna tied tightly around his head. “What you got?”

“Nothing that will do you any good,” he said. “Let us pass.”

The one who had spoken before gave an ugly laugh. “No way,” he said, and suddenly there was the flash of a knife in his hand.

Max stared at the knife, knowing this was not good. What a night. This, on top of all the rest, just about did it for him. How much bad luck could one night bring? Fed up, he let his inner Italian take over. Moving toward the men in an aggressive rather than a defensive manner, he began to curse loud and long, in Italian, shouting at the men, shaking his fist at them for good measure. Instead of allowing himself to be the victim, he was threatening them.

Cari watched, her heart in her throat, fear sizzling through her. From every advice column she’d ever read, this seemed to be exactly the wrong way to go about this and she knew it. This could end very badly. But in the meantime, what could she do? Should she run? Not in these shoes. There was no chance. Everything in her wanted to protect the baby. But the way Max was acting, she was very much afraid she was going to see the knife slashing into his chest any moment.

And then what?

Still, it didn’t seem to be playing out quite the way she’d expected. To her surprise, the shortest of the men was pulling on the arm of the one with the knife.

“Hold on,” he was saying. “Just hold up, dude. Look at the guy.”

“Hey, get a load of that suit,” the third was saying nervously. “And listen to the way he talks. I think he’s Mafia, dude. You don’t want to screw with those guys.”

“Mafia?” The three of them stared hard at Max who was still cursing. “Hey, they can mess you up bad.”

“It’s not worth it, dude,” the one with the knife said at last, backing away. “Let’s get out of here.”

And they vanished as suddenly as they had appeared.

Max and Cari both stood very still, letting the adrenaline slow down, getting their breathing back to normal.

“Is that it?” she said at last.

“It seems to be,” he responded. He turned and came back quickly, taking her by the shoulders and staring down into her eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked intensely.

She nodded, still too shaken to say much. Being almost mugged by thugs was enough to ruin a perfectly good evening walk, but watching Max explode like a smoldering volcano had been almost as shocking. She’d never seen a man do that before.

“Good.” He let out a long breath. “We’re lucky they gave up so easily.”

She nodded, finally finding her voice. “Wow, I guess you don’t need a weapon after all,” she said, looking at him with reluctant admiration.

He brushed it off. He knew how to handle himself and he’d been pretty confident, even with three men opposing him, until he’d seen the knife. That could change everything. Luckily, they had weighed the odds and decided not to risk annoying the mob.

Though that made him want to smile. Some people thought anyone Italian had ties to gangsters. That was an ignorant assumption, but it had come in handy this time.

“Okay, let’s go. We’ve got to get out of this neighborhood. Places like this seem to breed thugs like rats thriving in the shadows. Let’s head for streets that are better lit. That way I think.” He pointed down another street and they headed in that direction, moving quickly.

Her feet were aching, but she ignored it. She’d go barefoot if she had to. Anything to get out of this part of town.

“Hold tight to the baby,” Max ordered suddenly, slinging the diaper bag up over his shoulder.

She looked up, startled, and the next thing she knew, he’d bent to slide support under her legs and was swinging her up into his arms, baby and all. She squeaked in protest, but he ignored her.

“You’re going to trip in those shoes,” he told her. “I can handle it. Just hold on.”

She held on and somehow, it worked. He cradled them both in a warm, muscular embrace and walked firmly along the wet sidewalk. She clung to the space just above his chest and beneath his chin and closed her eyes, reveling in the sense of his masculine strength. His heart was beating against her shoulder. She let herself fall into a sort of daze, listening to the rhythm and soaking up the whole of him.

He moved quickly, wondering how he’d let himself get into this insane situation. She was light as a feather, despite the added weight of the baby, and she smelled like a garden in sunshine. Strands of her blond hair flew up and tickled his nose, which he found tantalizing rather than annoying. All in all, she was warm and soft and round and he felt like a Neanderthal. He wanted to take her home and keep her—preferably in his bed.

This wasn’t right. She wasn’t meant for him. In fact, he had other fish to fry, and he was late for the barbecue. But she seemed so small and vulnerable in his arms and he couldn’t resist filling his head with her fresh, intoxicating scent.

A few steps more and they were around the corner, and suddenly cars were whizzing past and the streetlights actually lit up the street instead of just muddying the atmosphere.

“Civilization,” Max muttered, lowering Cari to the ground carefully and looking up and down the road. “But still no cabs.”

And more rain. Thunder rolled and the heavens opened up.

“This way, quickly,” he shouted, pulling her and the baby along until he got them under the limited protection of an empty bus stop shelter. They dashed inside and quickly clung together, trying to stay out of the spray, as water poured off the rounded roof of the tiny kiosk, shooting all around them. After the first moment or two, Cari looked up and realized just how close they were standing. Her nose almost touched his chin.

“Oh,” she said, thinking she should pull back. Being this close when she was being carried was one thing, but this was ridiculous.

“No.” Reaching out, he held the two of them against his chest. “You’ll just get wet.”

“But …” She bit her lip, not sure what to say or where to look.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice so low she could hardly hear it over the rain. “I don’t bite.”

“Don’t you?” She heard herself say the words and winced, knowing they sounded almost as though she were flirting. She hadn’t meant to do that.

The way his mouth twisted in a half grin let her know he’d heard it that way, too. “I suppose I could be convinced,” he said softly.

She gazed into his dark eyes and somehow couldn’t look anywhere else. The sound of the rain, the momentary isolation, the way they were pressed so closely, all blended together to weave an enchantment around them. He was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes. And if she didn’t watch out, she was going to end up kissing him back.

“No,” she murmured, trying to dredge up the strength to resist.

“Yes,” he countered, lowering his lips to hers.

“No,” she said again, shaking her head.

“Why not?” he asked, so close to her.

“The baby …”

“The baby’s asleep. He can’t see a thing.”

“This is all wrong.” Looking up, she searched his eyes. “We’re not even supposed to be on this date.”

“This isn’t a date,” he said, his own eyes deep and smoky with something nameless that set her pulse pounding. “It’s an encounter. A moment in time.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “A bit of magic. You’ll forget all about it by morning.”

“I don’t think so,” she said with a sigh. “You really shouldn’t …”

“But I want to,” he said huskily. “And you taste so good.”

And then he took her mouth with his and kissed her like she’d never been kissed before.