Mediterranean Men & Marriage: The Italian's Forgotten Baby / The Sicilian's Bride / Hired: The Italian's Bride. Raye MorganЧитать онлайн книгу.
she said, shaking her head. “It’s nothing. But I was just thinking. What about Eddie?”
He nodded quickly. “That was exactly what I was coming to tell you. We’ve got to go. We forgot all about Eddie. I made a promise. I’ve got to keep it.”
Chapter Eight
“OH, MY GOSH!” Shayna said, alarmed as she looked at her watch. “I hadn’t realized it was so late.”
“That’s the problem,” Marco agreed. “I don’t know what time he goes to bed, but we still have to find a place that sells red licorice.”
“Uh-oh.” It dawned on her that this was serious. She could tell by the look in his dark eyes that he was going to find a way to keep his promise no matter what it took. “The little general store in town sells it, but they are probably closed by now.” She frowned, pursing her lips.
“What are you doing?” he asked impatiently.
She held up a hand. “I’m trying to think if there is any other place where we could buy the licorice.”
“There must be another store. A general store, a grocery, a candy store.”
“Not with that sort of red licorice.” She shook her head, genuinely worried now. “We can stop by Howe’s Market on the coast, but I doubt it.”
“Well, let’s go. If we hurry, maybe we can catch the store at the marina before they close.”
She was glad he’d remembered his commitment to the boy. Not many men she’d dated would have done it. Or, once they’d realized it was going to be an imposition to get the candy, they would have decided the promise could wait until the next day. No problem. Just a little boy who would learn how easy it was for adults to lie to him.
Luckily, Marco didn’t seem to be one of that type. A woman always liked to see a man keep his word. It was pretty important to the stability of a relationship.
Relationship! Who was she trying to kid? She had no real relationship with Marco and never would. How could she let herself get this close to a man who had been hired to spy on her by her father?
They raced back over a darkened road. Howe’s Market along the coast was already closed. Marco was kicking himself for having forgotten until so late. When he thought of Eddie with his bright brown eyes looking at him so earnestly, sure that he would do what he’d promised, it made him sick to think he might disappoint him. Poor little guy. His father was missing and his mother was suddenly gone all the time. He thought of how she was working so hard for her kids and he felt even worse. How could he have forgotten such a simple thing?
A scene flashed into his mind, a moment in his own childhood. His father had been a busy man, director of a huge international shipping enterprise and after his parents had divorced, he’d become more and more remote. To Marco, he’d been a distant sort of god to be worshiped from afar—hardly a warm, fatherly figure. As a boy, he’d yearned to be closer to him, to get some of his attention. There had been so many lonely days when promises made were broken.
There had been the time, when he was about ten, that his father had sworn he was going to make up for all those missed dates. He would take Marco overnight to attend a sailing competition being held off the Isle of Capri. He could still remember the feeling in the pit of his stomach as he leaned on the balcony railing, staring out into the darkness, waiting to see the headlights of his father’s car coming up the long driveway. They never came. He found out later that his father had gone without him, had forgotten all about taking him, in fact. He’d laughed. He’d pretended it was no big deal. But that was the day his trust in fathers died.
But what did he care, really? He barely knew this little boy. He wasn’t the boy’s father. He wasn’t the boy’s anything. They had no real tie to each other. No, it was something more than that. There was a certain empathy he felt. The boy had lost his father. He himself had lost a father, even if only emotionally. But he knew how much that loss had hurt, how it devastated his life for a time.
They arrived at the little town, turned at the marina and swung around the corner. There stood the general store, silent and closed, with only one neon sign flashing, an advertisement for beer.
Marco jumped off the scooter and bounded to the front door. “Hello,” he called, pounding on the door. “Anyone in there?”
No one responded and he went quickly to the back, trying the same thing. Nothing. He came back to where Shayna sat.
“Quick, we need the store keeper’s phone number,” he said.
Shayna gaped at him. “Sorry, that’s not something I keep on me for emergency grocery requests.”
“Well, you should,” he said distractedly. Searching the signs on the front of the store, he found a phone number and decided to try it. The ring sounded over and over again in his ears. No one answered. He swore softly.
He stared at the store, set his shoulders, and then he turned and walked back to Shayna, who was still on the Vespa. He looked troubled. Raking his hair with his fingers, he grimaced.
“Okay, I’m going to have to break in.”
She felt as though she’d been hit by lightning, flattened to the pavement. “You’re kidding,” she gasped.
He shook his head, his eyes cold as ice. “No. I have to get that licorice. I don’t see any other way.” He began rummaging in the saddlebag.
“You’re crazy,” she said, hardly able to process what he was planning to do. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Maybe.” He found an oily rag and began to wind it around his hand and then grinned at her, wiggling his eyebrows. “But what if I’m the lunatic you’re looking for?”
He was enjoying this. She couldn’t believe it.
“I don’t want a lunatic,” she snapped. “I want someone with a cool, clear mind and common sense.” “No.” He shook his head. “That won’t help us. We’re thinking outside of the box here.” He put his hand up to the light from the scooter, testing how well the cloth had wrapped. “Lunatics are better for that.”
He was really planning to break into the general store. She couldn’t fully process that. She grabbed his arm. “Marco, you can’t do this. Don’t you see? You’ll get arrested.”
He barely looked at her. “Think so?”
“You’ll get thrown in jail.”
His grin was fleeting this time. “Will you bring me a file in a cake?”
“No.”
He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Snob. What have you got against jailbirds?”
She threw her hands down, exasperated with him. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that they tend to be crooks!”
He thought for a moment, then heaved a heavy sigh. “Eddie’s bedtime must be fast approaching, if it’s not already come and gone.” He looked back at her. “I can’t help it, Shayna. I’ve got to get him that licorice.”
She jumped off the scooter and came to him, putting a hand on his arm, trying to think of ways to soothe his conscience. “I know but, there’s got to be another way. Maybe if we just thought this through…”
He held his rag-covered fist up for her to admire, then looked into her eyes. “Are you with me?”
“No,” she moaned. “You can’t do this.”
He shook his head. “Oh, but I can.” His jaw was set. “If you can’t bring yourself to do a little burgling for a good cause, stay here.”
He turned and started toward the window set just above a drink cooler where he planned to break in. She gave a cry of exasperation and ran after him.
“Stop!” she ordered