Teardrop Lane (11 page)

If she’d let him
.

She was a mixed bag of signals. Slow. Caution. Detour. Yield. Warning, curve ahead. Stop.

His libido waited less patiently each day to see a green light.

The drive to Angel’s Rest took only a few minutes. He parked and walked inside, meeting the Callahans and Timberlakes on the walk. Inside, the official hosts of the
evening, Zach Turner and the Romano brothers greeted their guests. Cicero congratulated the honorees. Dressed in turquoise blue, Gabi sparkled like sunshine on the water off Bella Vita Isle, while Flynn’s eyes had that heavy-lidded sexually satisfied look that made Cicero green with envy. He wandered into the parlor, on the hunt for Rose.

He didn’t find her anywhere, so when Celeste walked by, he asked if she’d seen her. “Not yet. I suspect she’ll be down shortly. Why don’t you grab a plate and eat before all of Ali’s crab cakes are gone? They always go fast.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks for the tip.”

He filled a plate with meat and cheeses and crab cakes, then loitered in the hallway, his attention never far from the staircase. Anticipation rolled through him like a dream. He could be Rhett Butler waiting for Scarlett.

Wouldn’t he just love to see Rose in that famous red dress with feathers and cleavage?

The fanciful idea made him roll his eyes. Yes, he had moved into the realm of the ridiculous. He’d polished off his snack, and had just set his empty plate on the tray of a passing waiter, when movement at the top of the staircase caught his attention. He looked up and sucked in a breath. Not red and feathered. She wore a strapless, clinging, emerald-green dress that ended just above her knee and made him think of mermaids.

Green means go
.

Watching her descend the Angel’s Rest staircase, her hips swaying with each step downward, he mentally stripped away the top half of the dress. The kind of probing he wanted to do had nothing to do with learning her secrets.

He met her at the bottom of the stairs. “Good evening,
Sirena Bellissima
.”

“Sirena?”
She arched a patrician brow. “Should I confess that I understand Italian?”

Delighted, he asked, “Are you offended that I called you ‘beautiful mermaid’?”

“I think I shouldn’t have chosen stockings that shimmer.”

“Stockings? Not pantyhose?”

She arched her brow again, this time flirtatiously. “Are you really asking me about my underwear, Mr. Cicero?”

He gave her a slow once-over. “Just trying to fill in the blanks for my fantasies, Dr. Anderson.”

“I think you think about legs too much. I understand that’s your nickname for Gabi. What does Flynn think about that?”

He shrugged and slipped his arm through hers. “She’s tall. I’m not going to call her
Stumpy
. Besides, I only use the single word. No adjective to go with it. Certainly not
beautiful
. I could just as easily call her Bird Legs or Spaghetti Legs or Green Giant. Any of those suits her.”

“Liar. She’s tall and athletic and has great legs from playing basketball.”

He touched her hair, wrapped a silken curl around his index finger. “Why are we talking about her, anyway? You are tall and delicious and have spectacular legs. It’s so easy to imagine them wrapped around me—in shimmering stockings or bare-legged skin. So, what can I get you to drink?”

She stammered a moment before saying. “Wine. Red, please.”

“Sure you don’t want something green tonight? A margarita, perhaps?”

“I don’t think they’re serving margaritas tonight.”

“Pity. Green is my new favorite color.” He slid his finger down her cheek, then along the neckline of her dress. “Green means
go
, you know. It means
yes
.”

She visibly shivered. Satisfied that he’d piqued her interest,
Cicero sauntered off into the parlor toward the bar station standing in one corner. When he returned holding two glasses of cabernet, Rose stood safely beside her sister in a group of five. Cicero joined them and handed her a glass.

Nic Callahan was talking about a stray dog that Sheriff Zach Turner had picked up at a campground outside of town and left at her animal clinic, which doubled as Eternity Springs’s shelter. “He’s just a doll, a lab mix who is just as friendly as can be. He’s obviously been on his own for a while, but I’m sure he was someone’s pet at some point in his life.”

“You should adopt him, Cicero,” Gabi suggested. “You need a dog.”

“To quote my late sister’s standard reply to that suggestion, I need a dog like I need a hole in the head.”

“The kids would love it,” Gabi said. “Misty especially. Keenan wants an iguana. That’s all he talked about during their last visit.”

“Not true. The kid talked about everything under the sun when they were in town. He never shut up.”

“He’s seven,” Rose said. “That’s what seven-year-olds are supposed to do.”

“He wears me out. He only wants an iguana because his mother had a picture of the two of us with an iguana in a California bar.”

“So get him a dog,” Gabi said. “If he had a dog to play with, he wouldn’t bother you so much.”

“I can vouch for that,” Nic said. “Pets make great distraction devices.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Cicero turned to Lucca Romano and lobbed a distraction of his own onto the court. “How did the basketball team do today?”

Lucca’s lips twitched, but he made the save. “Man, it was an ugly game, but we squeaked it out.”

When Nic’s husband added his opinion of the game,
Cicero breathed an inward sigh. He’d successfully changed the subject. The last thing he needed was somebody around here dumping a dog on him.

Despite his best intentions, a flash of memory distracted him.

“He’s a wheaten terrier,” his new foster father had said. “He’s just the best dog. If you don’t mind, we thought we’d let him sleep in your room.”

A burst of laughter dragged him back to the present as more guests arrived and filled Angel’s Rest’s walls to near bursting. It was a happy crowd gathered for a happy occasion. Cicero pushed off thoughts about pets and pests, and concentrated on the here, now, and—

His lips twitched with self-amusement as his gaze lingered on Rose’s cleavage. Here, now, and green.

“Scarlett O’Hara has nothing on you,
Bellissima
.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“You look beautiful tonight.”

“Oh.” Delightful color stained her cheeks. “Thank you.”

At eight o’clock, Gabi’s brother Zach called for attention and thanked their guests for coming to the party. He then offered the first toast to the happy couple, and soon had everyone laughing with tales of Gabi’s escapades when she worked as his deputy sheriff.

It was a nice event, an enjoyable evening. Cicero liked his new friends and neighbors.

But he still felt edgy.

Throughout the evening, he circled Rose like a shark, at times keeping his distance, occasionally brushing up against her just to remind her that he was still around. She flicked her tail at him more than once, and Cicero was ready to follow her right into the deep. The party was beginning to wind down when he spied Celeste carting a tray filled with dirty glasses toward the kitchen. It
looked heavy. Smoothly, he swooped in and lifted the tray from her hands. “I’ve got that.”

Celeste smiled up at him. “Thank you, dear. Your assistance is timely. I’m afraid my eyes were bigger than my muscles, and I overloaded my tray.”

“I’m glad I can help.” He followed her into a room that was a cheerful cross between a commercial kitchen and a kitchen in a private home. The angel wing motif made him smile. Even though the symbol appeared everywhere he looked, the effect wasn’t overdone. “I like your kitchen, Celeste.”

“Thank you.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “It makes me happy.”

“You make everyone around you happy.”

“Why, what a lovely thing to say. Thank you, Hunter.” Celeste gestured for him to set the tray on a counter beside a large sink. After doing so, he unconsciously rolled his shoulders.

Eagle-eyed Celeste noticed. “Are your shoulders stiff? You should scoot over to the hot springs and soak for a little while before you go home. You’ll find swimsuits in the pool house.”

“Thanks, but I—”

“Get Rose to go out there with you. Soaking in the mineral springs is one of her favorite things to do after a busy workday. It’d be good for her.”

“I’d like that,” he finished, changing his mind. “That’s a great idea. Thanks.”

A self-satisfied smile lit her up like a sunbeam.

“Playing matchmaker, Celeste?”

“Actually, I am. And I’m very good at it.”

“Then I’ll consider myself warned,” he replied.

“If you land Rose Anderson, Hunter, you should consider yourself lucky.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Of course, he wasn’t sure that his definition of “landing” was the same as Celeste’s.

Cicero rejoined the party and looked around for Rose. He found her in the parlor listening politely to Maggie Romano babble on about wedding plans. Cicero liked Maggie, but he’d already heard her and her daughter debate floral bouquet choices at length when Maggie visited the studio. Something told him that by his apprentice’s wedding day, he’d be an expert on all things bridal.

Maggie interrupted her talk of daisies and dahlias to give him a warm smile. “You have the look of a man on a mission.”

“I am that. I had a long session in the studio today, and my back is stiff. Celeste is sending me to the hot springs, and she told me to drag Rose along with me.” He challenged Rose with a look and added, “You’ll come?”

Indecision glimmered in her eyes.

“Your feet must hurt after standing in those stilts all evening,” he added. “I’ll rub them for you,
Bellissima
.”

“Italian endearments,” Maggie observed, patting her hand rapidly over her heart. “You are a dangerous man, Cicero.”

“Training,” he replied, adding a bit of the devil to his smile. “I lived in Venice for two years. So, you’ll join me?” He waited a bit and added,
“Per piacere?”

She slowly nodded.

“Excellent.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we track down our hosts and say our good-nights?”

“I think they’re all out on the front porch,” Maggie said helpfully.

As they moved toward the front door, Rose murmured, “My feet don’t hurt. These are great shoes. I don’t need a foot rub.”

“Yes, they most definitely are great shoes.” He reached down and pulled an errant curl behind her ear and ran
his finger down the skin of her neck. “I’d like to see you wearing them and nothing else.”

She visibly shuddered and briefly closed her eyes, then asked rhetorically, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to take the edge off,
Sirena Bellissima
. Trying to take the edge off.”

Rose almost chickened out. The doubts that had assailed her before joining the party downstairs returned with full force once she went upstairs to change into her swimsuit. She wasn’t stupid. The man was looking to get laid. There was only one way this evening would end if she went with him to the dark, private hot springs. Yet, here she was wriggling into a swimsuit. Was she weak? Wanton? Both?

Both. She wanted this—wanted him. It had been so damned long for her.

It was only when she slipped the swimsuit strap over her shoulder that she remembered that this wasn’t a usual winter’s night in Eternity Springs. This was the evening between Ice Fishing Derby and the balloon race. Town was packed with people. The mineral springs would be packed, too.

Her stomach sank in disappointment.

Wait a minute. Crowded hot springs aren’t a deal breaker. You could always invite him up to your apartment to … see your manuscript
.

Before she could change her mind, she pulled on the boots and full-length down coat she used for her walks to the springs, grabbed a towel, and headed back downstairs where Cicero waited. With his earlier mention of Scarlett O’Hara planted in her brain, she had a sudden mental flash of the scene from
Gone with the Wind
where Rhett Butler stood at the base of the staircase looking up.

Except Hunt Cicero was better-looking than Clark Gable
.

And frankly, my dear, you’ve never had a fourteen-inch waist in your life
.

Who cares? He told me I look beautiful
.

The engagement party crowd had departed, and they were able to slip out the back door without any delay. A three-quarter moon shone in a clear, dark, star-studded sky. “I love the night sky here,” Cicero said, his breath fogging on the bitter air. “It’s something I missed during my time in Texas.”

“Too much city light?”

“Way too much. Bella Vita spoiled me.”

“I’d love to visit the island someday,” she said wistfully. “Gabi makes it sound like paradise.”

“It is. It was a great place to live for a little while.”

“But not forever?”

“No. I don’t do forever. I’ve been a wanderer all my life.”

A timely reminder, Rose thought, trying to ignore the little sting, then deciding the comment was exactly what she needed to hear in order to manage her expectations. They reached the fork in the path that led to the hot springs and Cicero turned the wrong direction. “No,” she said. “This way.”

“Actually, we’re going to a different spot. While you were upstairs changing, Celeste tracked me down. She said that with all the tourists in town, the hot springs pools will be packed. There’s a private cottage this way that had a late cancellation. She gave me a key.”

A private cottage this way?
Rose well knew that there was only one cottage in the direction they were taking. Beneath the light of a lamppost, she stopped short, pulling his hand from hers. “Celeste gave you a key to the honeymoon cottage?”

Now a step ahead of her, Cicero looked around.
Golden lamplight illuminated the slow smile that spread across his face.

“It’s the honeymoon cottage?”

How typical, Rose thought. Celeste enjoyed playing Cupid more than anyone on the planet. If she and Hunt started an affair, she’d need to remember to have a talk with her friend and explain that her lover was a wanderer—and Rose was fine with that.