Mi Carino (7 page)

“
Something wrong?” Lance asked.

The breath grew hot in his lungs. She had a quiet beauty that drew him in. Sure her face was pretty enough, but it was the graceful way she moved along, stopping to look into a store window, and then smiling at others she passed that told him more of her gentle nature. She was taller than he remembered, but it was an evident lift provided by her thin-heeled boots. Her legs were toned and seductively tucked in a pair of ink black riding boots that were snug to her muscled calves. His gaze leveled on her shapely thighs then made a slow climb to her backside when she turned away. On her head, situated to cover her left brow, she wore a crotched black beret. Her long tresses hung evenly on both sides of her face, lifting in the wintry breeze. Her aura burned brightly. Then she reached the doors of El Jay’s. She looked down at the menu on the sidewalk sign and he waited to see her intentions. As he hoped she went inside.

“
No. Nothing’s wrong. Send the driver back for me.” Diego ordered then stepped out of the car.

Chapter Four

Marcella entered and scanned the establishment once more. In Port Delgado the Latin influence could be felt in everything from the Spanish inspired architecture to the music and shops. Along the boardwalk the South American themed restaurants were a favorite of many of the residents. She’d never visited El Jay’s before Richard summoned her here.

A young man greeted her this time. He politely escorted her to a booth near the window. Marcella hadn’t seen or spoken to Richard since the day he picked up the check for his client from her office. He looked ashamed over his behavior with the kiss and she was relieved when he didn’t mention it. Even now she wasn’t sure what brought her back to this place. Maybe she was so drawn to the culture, because part of her felt so removed from it without her father to help make the connection. Despite his absence, her mother’s unwavering love for him kept parts of him ever present. Marcella had always been fascinated to understand more.

“
We meet again.”

A voice thick with an accent spoke above her. Deep and sensual it sent ripples and awareness of his presence through her, settling in the pit of her stomach. Her gaze lifted from the wine list the server had provided and snagged on the handsome face of a man who looked familiar. It was him. For weeks she couldn’t get the brief encounter with the tall stranger out of her mind. Even though he wore shades and had left before he gave her his name, she knew him.

For an instant her breath hitched in her throat.

“
May I?” he asked, as the young server quickly helped him from his coat. He removed his sunglasses and slid into the booth seat with her. Didn’t he just ask for permission?
Wow, look at his eyes.
The man
had a dreamy pair that no sane woman could turn away from. A tawny shade of brown peeked at her from under the shadow of dark lashes. His eyes spoke to her, reading her, pulling back the veil of shyness and demanding she respond to him with all the confidence she could muster. The shameless awakening of her desire for him spread through her chest like a flash fire. She burned within to say or do something to make him speak to her to again.
This can’t be a coincidence; I’m not that lucky.

Then he also shed his suit coat, and she noticed the tiny gold watch chain clipped to his vest. It was odd that a man like him, young and virile, would have something so distinctly conservative and old fashioned. Her inspector’s eyes, trained to see the details in any situation, took note that his rugged handsomeness didn’t seem to mesh with his professional attire. However, she would never complain, the man could hang a suit. His white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, revealed a few wisps of chest hair.  He appeared relaxed and completely at home. Marcella inhaled a careful breath and again tried to speak. The server came over with fresh glasses and uncorked a wine she didn’t order. He handed Diego the cork, which he sniffed then nodded. The sample poured in her large goblet was generous. She lifted the glass of cassis-tinted wine, and took a fortifying sip. He did the same.

“
Uh, yes, you can join me.” Marcella finally summoned a response to his original question, and set the wine list down.

“
Gracias
,
Señora
.
¿Cómo te llamas?”
he asked.

“
Garcia, Marcella Garcia.” She extended her hand. He captured it in his and kissed her knuckles never breaking the exchange between them.

Marcella’s brows lowered and she pressed her lips together shyly. So he’s Latin? The brush of his lips over her hand sent ripples of excitement through her. She loved Latin men. Richard had been Jewish, and quite handsome with his dark olive skin and blue eyes. This man however, he had swagger. He reminded her of the men she grew up with back in Brooklyn. She studied his bronze skin and muscular build.
What was he, Puerto Rican, Dominican?

Those chocolate drop eyes were hot on her, and that devastatingly handsome face relaxed into a challenging smirk. Once more, his intense stare reflected an uncanny awareness of her. Her cheeks warmed. There remained an air of mischief in his smile. It sparked her perilous urge to play with fire, to get burned by whatever fate had in store for her now.  

“
Um…your name?” she said with a soft chuckle.

“
Forgive me.” He pressed his hand to his chest. The platinum watch on his wrist peeked out through his sleeve, diamonds glistening around the bezel.

What is that watch worth, ten, twenty thousand? It’s far too extravagant for everyday wear, and kind of gaudy—a major turnoff.

Marcella secretly deducted cool points from Mr. Casanova. She remembered the men back home with fancy suits and sexy smiles who had tried to court her mother. Most of them were criminally inclined. It would be such a disappointment if he turned out to be a man of flash and no substance.

“
They call me Diego.”

“
Call you Diego? Is it your name or a nickname?”

He chuckled. “It’s my name.”

“
Do you have a last name?”

He nodded. “Andes.”

“
Nice to meet you, Diego Andes.”

“
It is my pleasure. You tempt me,
e
res muy atractiva.
It’s my pleasure to meet you Marcella,
” He spoke words slightly foreign to her with quiet emphasis.

Uh-oh,
Marcella thought. This flirtation would be far from harmless. Marcella hadn’t anticipated such familiarity with him, but it felt natural. Even though he didn’t strike her as a man who casually approached women in a restaurant, he was smooth, a bit too smooth. Diego said he found her attractive, and the way the words rolled off his tongue in that deep timbered voice of his, she had been convinced. Unsure of the intent of the compliment, she held to her poise, and gave him a soft smile. The air of superiority about him made her a bit uncomfortable. She looked away from his intense stare hoping the waiter would return. It had been quite a while since she’d been physically aware of a man, and not since Richard had she even considered dating.

“
Señor
Andes!” The manager gasped from across the room. He hurried over. A short man with an evaporating hairline, his eyes bulged out of their sockets and his hands waved around him nervously as he bumped customer chairs and tables trying to quicken his greeting. Marcella frowned at the near panicked state of the man. Even the patrons in the quaint little eatery turned their heads in curiosity.

The man bowed his head in respect. “We didn’t know… I didn’t know. We were told to expect you tomorrow.
Lo siento
.” The man said it all without taking a breath. Marcella looked over at Diego. He just stared at the man, expressionless. “Oh, yes, of course you are here for lunch?
Excúseme
, I will make sure the chef knows. Carlotta! Carlotta! ”

Marcella followed the animated man as he ran off a list of instructions to his staff in Spanish. Everyone moved with urgency, giving nods of respect to Diego. It made her feel a little sad for the worried actions of the workers, and a little uncomfortable.

“
What was that about? Those people, they act like you’re royalty or the devil.” She chuckled.

“
Let’s just say I’m close with the owner.” He gave her a clipped response, another hint of a smile to his lips.

“
Mr. Juarez? Yes I met him.”

Diego’s stare hardened. Again she felt the tense vibe from uttering the man’s name. Why was the man viewed as a pariah to people in his own business?

“
I have a question, Marcella.”

“
Okay?”

“
Have you decided on the menu?”

It wasn’t the question she anticipated. Something in his tone and manner said he knew she hadn’t. But she shrugged it off. “Actually I’ve never eaten here. I work close to here, so I’ve eaten at a couple of places along the boardwalk.” She swallowed her voice, she barely knew him, she certainly shouldn’t reveal more than what was cursory. “I’ve nibbled but not dined. No, no I haven’t decided.”

She wanted to smack herself in the forehead. He now had her as nervous as the wait staff. He snapped his fingers. A young petite woman appeared, smiling and nodding at them both. Diego ordered something in Spanish for them to eat. Marcella’s ears perked and her legs crossed under the table. She savored the sound of his language with each accented consonant. She always wondered about her mother’s first meeting with her father. How he pulled her in. Her mother was strong, confident, but mysterious as a woman. For starters, she harbored no ill feelings over the breakup with Marcella’s father. She always shared sweet stories and memories of the man, and for Marcella this was both confusing and disheartening. If her father was such a great guy, then why did her birth send him away?

“
Sounds good, what is it?” she asked, not catching some of it.

“
A surprise,” Is all he would say. “Do you know the history of Port Delgado, Marcella?”

“
Ah, no, I’m not originally from here.” She said again giving away too much. She bit down on her bottom lip to stop the habit. He didn’t seem too bothered by her unwillingness to share. It dawned on her that people, upon meeting him, gave information quickly just from his presence.  

“
Just after World War II, there was a large migration of immigrants from South America, Colombia, Brazil, Costa Rica, into California. Instead of settling in the overcrowded cities along the California coast they migrated even further north and eventually many headed to Washington. Port Delgado is closest to Port Blakely, which handles the trade in and out of Seattle. So this became their home.”

Marcella noticed when his speech focused on the tale his accent cleared and he spoke English in a slow but exact manner. The muscle in his jaw twitched and his Adams-apple bobbed in his throat as he slowed his speech around certain words he wanted to say precisely. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his lips.

“
The settlers were once planters, mostly coffee bean farmers, and some have become quite prosperous.”

“
Like Juan Juarez?” She queried.