Love of a Marine (The Wounded Warriors Series Book 2) (33 page)

“What are you doing here, Mis?” Cluny was clearly flabbergasted. “We didn’t know you were coming or we’d have asked you to sit with us.”

“I’m working tonight, Mac. I’m at one of the single’s tables. Got five men all to myself.” She held up a large roll of raffle tickets. “Pony up, Marines. I happen to know what some of the prizes are. And if you don’t win, you
do
win because the money we raise will help a lot of vets and their families.”

Misty, like the men, wore full dress uniform and had her hair in a neat bun at the back of her neck. Except for a tinge of color on her lips, she wore no makeup. Graciella remembered Sgt. Beachy didn’t need makeup. Naturally attractive and feminine, Misty appeared particularly young tonight.

Graciella was comforted by the thought that there’d been no communication between Cluny and Misty. He was as surprised to see her as she was.

Joey recovered quickly and grinned. “I’ll take five tickets, Master Sergeant, and I challenge McPherson and Dempsey to match me.”

“Good man, Boozy.” She looked askance at Liz. “Do you know about this man’s checkered past?” She peeled tickets off the strip, separated them in half, and gave Liz the stubs. The fifty dollars he handed over went into a small basket she carried on her wrist. It already had a good-sized stack of bills.

Liz grinned. “Oh, yes, he’s my big brother.”

Dwayne pulled out his wallet. “Boozy has reformed, Master Sergeant. As of tonight he’s to be known as Joe. He’s sworn off the sauce, joined the ranks of us teetotalers, and reenlisted.” He passed her a hundred dollar bill. “I’ll take ten.”

Misty handed Marla his stubs. “That’s good news, Gunny. We’ll start calling him Hambone again.”

Cluny grumbled, “Show-off,” and directed a grin at Dwayne. “I’ll take ten tickets, Mis. Can’t let Gunny show me up.”

“OK, OK,” Joey said. “Give me five more.”

Liz laughed. “Oh, good, I want to win that spa vacation.”

Good-natured laughter followed Misty Beachy’s move to the next table, and they sampled their desserts. The orchestra returned to the ballroom and this time the music was a bit louder. One by one, men rose from tables and wandered to the
Smoking Room
, which was in reality an outdoor balcony. Several non-smokers and a few women joined them, but most, like Graciella, Marla, and Liz, remained behind.

Liz asked Graciella, “How long have you known Cluny? Joey warned me he had a beautiful girlfriend, so I should give up the crush I’ve had on him since I was eleven and move on.”

Graciella and Marla exchanged smiles.

“We’ve been together since the beginning of summer. I have my son to thank for it. He made friends with Cluny at the beach in early June.”

“Yes,” Marla said. “Her son, Santos, told Dwayne he was going to marry Amber when he grows up. So, we already know the future father of our grandchildren.”

Liz giggled. “Oh, that’s sweet. How old is he?”

“He’ll be ten in September. Amber will be nine. Just the right age difference, don’t you think?”

“Perfect.” Liz stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll head to the ladies room. You won’t hate me if I dance with Cluny will you?”

“Don’t be silly.” Graciella waved as the sweet young woman left the table.

“How are you doing?” Marla asked. “I noticed you were startled when Misty came to the table to sell tickets.”

“I’m fine. I’m trying very hard not to let Marvin’s infidelity intrude on my relationship with Cluny. Any flirting he does is natural and playful. You don’t notice me getting upset whenever he hugs or kisses you.” There was a definite difference in her mind, but the knowledge that Cluny and Misty had once been lovers continued to nag like an evil, slithering vermin working to worm its way into her heart.

She and Marla followed Liz to the ladies room. A short time later, the men having heard the orchestra resume music for dancing, slowly drifted back into the ballroom. Cluny entered among a small knot of laughing veterans including Misty Beachy. He spoke to her for a few seconds, kissed her cheek and made his way to their table. He leaned close to Graciella’s ear. “I’m going to ask Liz for that dance.”

She reached up and patted his cheek. “OK. You know where to find me.”

Dwayne led Marla to the dance floor, leaving Graciella and Joe alone at the table. After an awkward few seconds he stood. “May I have this dance?”

A blush warmed her cheeks. She nodded and smiled. “Yes, of course.” She accepted because she didn’t know what else to do. He’d been very polite all evening, How could she refuse? She took his hand and followed him to the center of the room.

An accomplished dancer, Joe didn’t hold her stiffly away or uncomfortably close. She slowed her breathing and relaxed.
Amazing, the power of booze to facilitate bad behavior.
She knew Cluny stopped drinking alcohol because he’d recognized how pernicious it was for his PTS. Temptation was an insidious creature. She loved the man and she’d do whatever she needed to do to help him.

“You’re a great dance partner, Graciella,” Joe remarked. “If they play any Latin music before the evening is out, I’d love to have another dance with you.”

She laughed softly. “Are you saying that because Cluny told you I’m a dance teacher?”

He stopped for a split second. “You are? Wow. Where do you teach?”

“I own Rio Samba in Chatsworth. I met my late husband at a samba club in Sao Paulo, Brazil.”

“I’ll be damned. My sister talked me into taking some Latin dance lessons at a studio in Thousand Oaks a few months ago. I loved it.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty good at it too.” Joe had a very charming smile.

“Is that right? Why don’t we ask the orchestra leader to play a couple of songs? Do you know the samba and the tango?”

Instead of answering her, he took her hand and walked the short distance to the orchestra and requested the bandleader to play some Latin music before the evening was over. The man answered, “Why not now?” As soon as they finished the piece they were playing, they began a dramatic tango.

“Ma’am?” Joe extended his hand and led Graciella back to the center of the floor.

Joe had told the truth. He was an excellent Latin dancer. Graciella laughed and joined freely in the masculine, sensuous tango with him. About half the dancers left the floor, apparently not adept at tango. Soon, others backed away from them and enjoyed watching. Graciella spotted Liz and Cluny grinning on the sidelines. The orchestra eased expertly from the sedate tango into a lively and delightful bossanova samba. At the conclusion of the dance, she and Joe acknowledged scattered applause and laughter. He led her to the edge of the floor and handed her off to Cluny.

Cluny’s arm around her waist, he whispered in her ear as he led her back to their table. “You gotta give me some more dance lessons, baby. I shoulda been the guy out there dancing with you. I have no choice now but to kill Hambone.” His grin belied his comment.

“What Joe probably doesn’t know,” she confided, “is tango originated in the brothels of the poor sections of Buenos Aires. I won’t tell him, if you won’t.”

Cluny squeezed her waist. “He’s on a strictly need-to-know basis.”

The dancing went on for another hour. Graciella accepted many invitations to dance, one from an elderly general, who, when he approached the table, had the three men instantly on their feet. Cluny danced with Marla and then with a matronly woman Graciella hadn’t met. Then he led Misty Beachy in a brief foxtrot.

The master of ceremonies tapped the microphone to announce the winners of the prize drawings and the amount of money they’d raised for the evening.

Graciella enjoyed Cluny’s surprise when one of the prizewinners won six private lessons at Rio Samba. To her relief, Joe didn’t win the private lessons. Liz showed her disappointment at not winning the coveted spa vacation. In fact, there were no raffle winners at their table, but the evening ended on a happy and upbeat note.

“I have to call my mother.” Marla took out her phone while they walked to the front of the club and waited for the valets to bring their cars. She sighed and snapped her cell closed. “Mom is not up to keeping Dec all night, so we’re going to head over there and pick him up. Amber and Santos have already settled into their family-room campout. Dad said he’d bring them home after breakfast.”

Cluny waved. “Ask Brad to get them to my house by noon. We’re going to the beach tomorrow.”

Graciella cocked her head and drew in her eyebrows. “We are?”

“Yep. Sound like a plan to you?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Sunday morning, Cluny’s kitchen

Graciella scrambled eggs at the big island stovetop. She glanced up when Cluny entered the kitchen. “I put the paper on the table for you, amor.” She raised an eyebrow. “Shirts are required at the table.”

He grinned and turned on his heel. “Be right back.”

Men—why did they like to run around half naked all the time?

Cluny returned, pulling an old T-shirt over his head. “That better?” He stepped behind her to pour himself a mug of coffee then leaned in and kissed her neck. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. Sit. These will be done in a few seconds.”

Cluny unfolded the big Sunday edition and separated the sections while sipping his coffee. Graciella brought his plate of eggs and toast then took the chair adjacent to him. “I’ll pack a lunch for the beach so we’ll be ready to leave when Santos and Amber get here.”

He hummed a response while sprinkling a generous amount of pepper on the eggs. He stared at the page and his fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Holy crap!”

“What is it?”

He put down his fork and held up the front page. “Isn’t this Jamal?”

Graciella jumped to her feet and leaned over his shoulder. “Yes, it looks like him. What does it say?”

Cluny read, “The FBI, after a lengthy investigation, has taken several Los Angeles residents into custody as part of a greater operation to crack a suspected terrorist cell. The alleged leader of the group, a UC Irvine assistant professor of Middle Eastern studies, whose name has been withheld, is reported to have cooperated with the Department of Homeland Security in exchange for having charges against him reduced. A few of the suspects arrested are foreigners studying at the university on student visas, but most are American citizens. The total number arrested early this morning is nine. The charges are serious enough that bail has been denied. According to our confidential sources, two Chechen men fled the country before they could be apprehended. The investigation is ongoing.”

Graciella slumped into her chair and dropped her forehead on a shaking hand. Her heart pounded so hard in her throat she could barely breathe.

Cluny put the paper down and moved behind her chair. He put his strong hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “You OK, baby?” He kissed the top of her head. “This is good news, right?”

Unable to form words, she nodded then reached up and stroked his bristled cheek when his lips brushed her ear. Greatly relieved to see Jamal in handcuffs, the other side of this news story was…she now had no excuse to stay in Cluny’s house. It was time for her and Santos to return home. She only had a few days to get the studio ready before she reopened for business. Not wanting to put a damper on their planned day at the beach, she decided not to mention it just yet. “Yes, I’m fine. This just took me by surprise.”

He returned to his chair and swallowed some coffee, a look of relief mixed with confusion on his face. He seemed to be waiting for her to talk, to tell him what else was on her mind, but instead of saying anything further, she picked up her fork and began to eat her breakfast.

Before they finished, the back door banged open and Santos and Amber ran in. “When are we leaving?” she asked.

Cluny grinned at their eager faces. “And good morning to you too.” He folded the paper and tucked it next to his plate. “Have you had breakfast?”

Queen followed the kids inside and, nose in the air, she sniffed the cooking smells. She nosed around the floor for any fallen morsel. Cluny rose and retrieved her big, stainless bowl. He took the bag of kibble from the cupboard and filled her dish to the top.

“Cluny asked you a question, Santos.” Graciella brushed the hair out of his eyes. “You need a haircut.”

He took a step back out of her reach, his cheeks pinking at her touch. She reminded herself of her pledge to quit treating him like a baby, but it was hard to break the old habit.

“We ate at Grampa’s house,” Amber piped up. “When are we leaving? I left all my beach things on the front porch.”

Cluny chuckled. “Is it OK if we finish our breakfast first?”

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess so. Come on, Santos; let’s get your towel and stuff. Which car are we going in, Uncle Cluny?”

“The plumbing van, but I have to clear some equipment out of the back first. Take Queen for a walk so she can do her business. There’s a bunch of plastic bags in a box next to the washing machine.”

Amber put her fists on her nonexistent hips. “Do know how big her poop is?”

“Take two bags.” He winked and picked up his coffee mug. “We’ll pack lunch after we eat. The sun is barely up.”

She stared at him like he was nuts. “Nuh uh. It’s after ten already.” She turned. “Come on, Santos. Uncle Cluny likes to tease me. We’ll get your things then take Queen out.”

As they shuffled down the hall, Graciella and Cluny heard Santos say, “You don’t have to pick up the poop. I’ll do it.”

Graciella bit her lip and exchanged an amused look with Cluny.

“It’s love,” he whispered.

She knew the feeling.

At the Beach

Cluny lay on his stomach, chin on his hands, watching the kids on their belly boards. He stole a quick glance at Graciella from the side of his shades. She’d been unusually quiet all day. She had something on her mind. “Want to take a walk, baby?”

“OK.” He enjoyed the view when she stood and brushed sand off her bottom. She shaded her eyes and peered at the lifeguard tower. “He’s there. The kids will be fine. The surf’s very quiet today.” She picked up his T-shirt and handed it to him then pulled on her cover-up.