Connie had a ready answer. “A tailored look. Subdued but stylish. With your wow factor, you can underplay to great effect.”
Elise blinked. “I have a wow factor?”
“For sure,” Marta declared. “Wish I did.” Marta regretted the words the second they were out of her mouth. She’d played right into her cousin’s manicured hands.
“My point precisely.” Connie cleared the dishes. “Go put on something that’s easy to take off.” Catching a startled glance, she explained, “I mean, while trying on clothes. I’m not suggesting you practice seduction techniques. Although that isn’t a bad idea.”
“It’s a terrible idea. I’m not one of those women who fawn all over Derek.” Marta hurried to the section of her studio partitioned as a bedroom. Thank goodness it had a door, even though a two-foot gap remained between the top and the ceiling.
She relished her privacy. This, she feared, was the last she’d have for the rest of the day.
*
Early Christmas shopping ranked near the bottom of Derek’s list of favorite things to do. Two years ago he’d tried to avoid the whole issue by ordering gifts online, but the stuff hadn’t looked nearly as appealing in reality as on the Internet. The following year’s gift certificates, while practical, hadn’t drawn the enthusiasm with which the rest of his family responded to the wrapped items.
Determined to do better this year, he headed for the mall on Saturday morning brimming with good intentions. He rated his chances of success, however, as slim.
Derek always felt at a loss at family events, and this Christmas could be worse than usual. His sister, Jill, married a little over a year, had delivered a baby girl two months ago.
During his visit to the hospital, Derek had struggled to find the right words. His most frequent comment had been, “Yes, she is,” spoken whenever someone complimented the baby.
The last thing he needed this holiday was to arrive with stuff as inappropriate as the soccer ball he’d taken to the hospital. “She’ll use it when she’s older, won’t she?” he’d remarked, drawing a long-suffering sigh from his mother and an indulgent head shake from his brother, Tom.
An attorney in the public defender’s office, Tom had chosen his gift at the baby shop where Jill was registered. Derek hadn’t even realized stores provided that service for new parents.
By Christmas, little Minnie would be too old for infant items. Surely a good-hearted uncle ought to be able to find something suitable. Derek liked kids well enough. He just wasn’t accustomed to being around those too small to frame a coherent sentence.
He started this morning’s expedition at a toy store. The display of dolls impressed him, but his sister had once claimed they were sexist. A stuffed animal might be better, except that he’d seen a zillion of them in Jill’s hospital room.
Discouraged, he suspended that part of his search and prowled through a department store for items that might suit his parents and siblings. A crystal bowl for Mom? The latest kitchen device for Jill? A power tool for Dad or Tom?
Everything seemed generic and predictable. He could never guess what was in their minds, probably because he didn’t spend much time with them.
Yet that didn’t prevent his family from hitting the mark with Derek. The year he bought his condo, they’d stocked his kitchen with pots and utensils, which he still used. Once, they’d pooled their money to buy him a pair of season tickets to the Angels baseball games. Definitely a home run in the gift category.
This year, though, they weren’t likely to score with a subscription to a medical journal or new book about Parkinson’s research, because he hadn’t mentioned his diagnosis. Didn’t intend to until he got a lot worse, either.
Setting aside negative thoughts, Derek browsed through more shops, hoping an idea would strike. When that failed, he headed for a bookstore to pick out children’s classics and, for the adults, volumes on history and film. They could always exchange the items.
On his way past a ladies’ boutique, a familiar face inside caught Derek’s attention. Marta emerged from the dressing room wearing a wine-red dress with ribbons edging the neckline. She swirled in front of a mirror, showing the garment to Connie.
The flattering color and the ribbons crossing her bosom emphasized her sensuality. He flashed back to the softness of her skin and the enticing floral scent as she’d helped him try on costumes.
She’s going to have an absolutely fabulous experience. Comprende?
Ruefully, Derek recalled his plan to treat tonight as a casual outing. Scratch that idea. A woman wearing such a sexy dress deserved something special.
He hurried to the bookstore to finish his task. Then he was free to figure out how to indulge his very alluring date.
Chapter Six
Marta hadn’t expected to fall in love with a dress. Most outfits left her feeling too short or too round. This claret-hued design brought out a femininity that seemed to belong to someone else, someone more passionate than her practical gift-shop manager persona and far more sophisticated than she’d been in the days when she used to date.
“It’s too expensive,” she told Connie.
“Don’t be silly. When’s the last time Mom bought you a gift?” her cousin scoffed.
“She doesn’t owe me anything.” Marta regarded the price tag in dismay.
“You only think that way because you’ve been brainwashed by your cheapskate father!” Connie said. “He treats you like a poor relation. Tell me, quick—what did he give you for Christmas last year?”
“Dad doesn’t believe in presents for adults.” Even a gift certificate to a discount store would have helped Marta’s strained budget.
“What did he give Aunt Bling?” Connie pressed.
“A trip to Hawaii.” She declined to mention her suspicion that he’d purchased more than a lei for her stepmother as well. “But she’s his wife. That’s different.”
“What did my mother send you before she flew off to New York for a shopping spree?”
“A card. It was lovely!” Marta hadn’t expected more from her relatives, although the fact that they’d left town for the holiday had hurt a little. She and Connie had served a charity dinner, then eaten a turkey meal catered by a supermarket deli. After working her shift, Rachel had joined them in watching a hilarious DVD.
“Exactly. You’re overdue.” Connie shook her head at Elise, who emerged from a dressing chamber in black jeans and a metal-studded jacket. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I like it,” their friend said defensively.
Connie thrust a pink-and-gray plaid skirt, gray jacket and pink shell at her. “These! Now!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Elise ducked inside.
Later, shopping bags at their sides, they lunched at the food court and drove to the salon. Although instinct urged Marta to insist on a simple trim for her shoulder-length brown locks, she didn’t dare risk her cousin’s wrath.
She shut her eyes and tried to ignore the smell of chemicals. The snip of scissors. The whir of the dryer.
No matter what they did to her hair, it should grow out. As for Derek, he wasn’t likely to notice the change.
But a traitorous part of her hoped he would.
*
When the door to Marta’s apartment opened, Derek silently thanked his stars he’d glimpsed her dress earlier or he might have dropped his cool demeanor. And that would have been a shame, because he’d put a lot of effort into preparing to play the suave man-about-town. Dark suit, his favorite aftershave lotion and a bouquet of roses for his lady.
He forgot all that in an instant. The deep red of Marta’s dress brought out a glow in her skin and russet highlights in her hair. Some wizard had changed her style to a layered cut that emphasized her green eyes.
He’d intended to execute a slight bow as he presented the flowers. Instead, he stood gaping for several seconds before blurting, “You look great!”
“Really?” She seemed in doubt. “Connie said we’re
going to a steak-and-seafood place. I’m not overdressed, am I?”
The new Mrs. Crandall had designated a popular local restaurant. Derek chose to ignore her recommendation. “I have a surprise, a favorite hideaway I haven’t visited in a while. You’ll love it.”
“I’m sure I will. What beautiful flowers!” She indicated the bouquet, which he’d forgotten he was holding. “I’d better put those in water.”
“Oh. Right!” He thrust them at her, recovering his poise a split second too late. What had happened to his blasé demeanor?
She inhaled deeply and peeked up at him, dark lashes sweeping above the lush blossoms. Then, as if unaware of the effect she’d created, she whirled off.
Feeling light-headed, Derek eased into the apartment, a modest place filled with warmth and color. Ahead, in the kitchen, a poster of a mountain meadow expanded the cramped space. To his left, above the couch, three swirling photos of modern dancers contributed movement. At the rear, a partition with a gap at the top revealed an apple-green accent wall.
Marta emerged with a terra-cotta vase, which she set carefully on a side table. “I’ll enjoy these.”
Although Derek had presented many arrangements to attractive women, he’d always considered them impersonal, like a box of candy. Not in Marta’s apartment. “I wish I’d picked wildflowers,” he said impulsively. “Gathered them in a field, like in your poster.”
She clasped her hands. “You’d better be careful or I might start believing this is a real date.”
That reminder jolted him. Derek didn’t have designs on Marta. He’d better keep that in mind.
“When exactly is your birthday?” He held the door for her. “I won’t be so rude as to ask your age.”
After draping a cape over her shoulders, she preceded him outside. The first-floor unit opened onto a concrete walkway level with the yard. “Tomorrow. I’ll be thirty-one. It’s no secret.”
As he locked up with her key, Derek remembered a line he’d rehearsed. Might as well stick to the script. “Tonight, forget about police stations and gift shops and bachelor auctions. Tonight, let me weave a spell.”
“That isn’t your real self talking,” she complained.
“It’s your humble servant demonstrating his skill as a ladies’ man,” he agreed. “Hey, you’re entitled to the grand tour, Marta.”
“Because Connie and Rachel paid for it?” she asked.
“Because that’s who I am.” At least for tonight. In fact, he was eager to share this other self with her instead of grumpy everyday Sergeant Reed.
“You can be yourself,” she told him a little sadly. “I’m not one of those women who chase you.”
Charmed by her earnestness, Derek caught her shoulders and faced her. “I’d have been glad to take you out tonight without the auction. You’re my friend, Marta.”
“Which is why you don’t have to pretend to weave a spell,” she shot back. “It isn’t necessary.”
“It’s fun. A game. If you don’t mind playing on the same team.” He waited for her reaction.
A small nod. “As long as we’re in this together.”
“The truth is, I’ve been looking forward to our date,” he told her. “We should have done this a long time ago.”
He could see that his comment hit the mark. “What are we waiting for?”
Derek guided Marta to his car with one palm at the small of her back. Touching and protecting her.
When they reached the sedan, he held the door and extended the seat belt so she didn’t have to stretch for it. He liked tucking her inside, his little Cinderella on her way to the ball.
Amused by his fanciful reflections, Derek circled the carriage and gripped the reins. The wheel. Whatever.
Who cared if the horses were a three-hundred-horsepower engine? This was better. It wouldn’t turn into a team of mice at the stroke of midnight.
As for Prince Charming, Derek had never tried to claim that title. But for one evening, he might make an exception.
*
Marta had often wondered what a date with Derek would be like. She hadn’t expected this.
A Middle Eastern restaurant with soft, exotic music. Low round tables and the scent of incense. A waiter in what could have passed for an Aladdin costume: white turban, gold-trimmed black vest, black pantaloons gathered at the ankle and a mock scimitar fixed at the waist.
“How authentic is this?” she asked after the man had presented their scroll-style menus and departed.
“About as authentic as Disneyland, I’m guessing.” On the semicircular cushioned bench, Derek sat tantalizingly close. A thin curtain sheltered them from the other diners. “How do you like it?”
“I don’t usually eat this kind of food.” Although she recognized a couple of items on the menu, most of the dishes were unfamiliar. “I’m sure it’s fabulous.”
“Let’s order a sampler for two.”
“Great!” She shifted on her pillow. They’d lowered themselves almost to the floor, a position that might have been comfortable had Marta not spent an hour this afternoon with a six-year-old in her lap. The boy had been too restless to sit at a table, so she’d settled him in her lap to review letters and numbers aloud from the safety of her arms. As a result, Marta had a kink in her back.
She refused to let that ruin her evening. Tonight, she intended to store up memories, from the rumble of Derek’s voice to the intoxicating quirk of his smile. Later, she’d review and relish these moments like gems from a treasure chest.
The waiter returned with a selection of dips—hummus, something called tzatziki and baba ghanouj, an eggplant dish—and a basket of fresh pita. When Derek tore off a piece, scooped up some hummus with it and held the morsel inches from Marta’s lips, she caught his wrist and brought it the rest of the way.
Daringly, she nibbled the edge of his forefinger, where a bit of hummus clung, before releasing him. Marta wasn’t sure where she found the nerve.
“My, my,” he murmured. “The lady’s getting frisky.”
She grinned. “You taste good.”
“How about you?” Before Marta could react, he leaned toward her and grazed the corner of her mouth with his lips.
Fast and quick, the kiss sent liquid pleasure coursing through her. She tried not to show her reaction as he withdrew, but she wanted more. “No wonder they call you Sergeant Hit-and-Run.”
“Too fast?”
“The breeze gave me a chill,” Marta retorted.
“Let’s see if we can add a little heat.” His mouth touched hers again, exploring gently. The flick of his tongue warmed her to the core. “Better?” he asked.
“I’ll consider that a down payment.” She must be out of her mind. But the sensations simmering through her demanded further exploration.
The tempo and volume of the music seemed to increase. Marta thought she was imagining the change until, through the gauze drapery, she glimpsed a dark-haired woman undulating across the room.
Finger cymbals ching-chinged as the dancer’s belly performed a series of undulations. A purple-sequined bra highlighted ample breasts, and below the bare midriff, a veil-like skirt swayed on her hips.
Forget skinny fashion models and teenage pop princesses; this image of seduction bore her womanly curves and forty-plus years with pride. She rippled a path from one table to the next, reveling in her dance. A tiny smile curved her lips when Derek, following custom, tucked a bill into her waistband.
“Lucky lady. He’s a sexy sergeant,” she observed to Marta before shimmying away.
Suffused with a pleasant buzz, Marta found the comment funny. “Haven’t been here in a while, huh?”
Derek responded with a chuckle. “It seemed like a while.”
At a nearby table, a balding man tried to fold money into the dancer’s skirt but missed. As he reached again, her hips gave a series of shakes that foiled his efforts, to the amusement of his fellow diners. At last, eyeing the man playfully, she braked to a halt and allowed him to
complete the task.
“I can’t imagine doing that,” Marta admitted. “Feeling so comfortable with your body that you can play like that. In public!”
Derek’s hand cupped hers. “I hope this doesn’t feel awkward. I could have chosen a more conventional restaurant.”
She hadn’t meant her comment that way. “Of course not.” Marta leaned against his shoulder, her cheek brushing the soft fabric of his suit. “I’m enjoying this.”
“So am I.” Slipping an arm around her waist, he nuzzled her hair. A tantalizing sensation spread through her like wine. Marta had to struggle to remember that they were playing a game.
She didn’t realize she’d scrunched her nose until he asked, “Am I getting too familiar?”
“Quite the opposite.” She sighed. “You certainly live up to my expectations.”
“Which expectations would those be?”
“As a lady-killer extraordinaire.” Marta hated to admit being as susceptible as any of his other admirers. “Don’t expect me to keel over. I might act a little breathless, that’s all.”
“I’m trained in mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” he murmured. “You’d have to lie down first, though.”
“That might muss my hairdo,” Marta returned. “Connie went to a lot of trouble to glam me up. Like it?”
She refrained from mentioning the makeup, although she was pleased that the beautician had expertly concealed the worst of her scars. Marta had bought a bottle of the foundation for future occasions.
Derek studied her approvingly. “You’re always appealing, but tonight you glow. I don’t think your cousin deserves all the credit.”
Unsure how to respond, Marta hurried on, talking to hide her nerves. “Connie helped me pick the dress. She’s got a keen eye, which she doesn’t even need. My cousin’s a lethal weapon where men are concerned.”
“She certainly did a number on Hale,” Derek agreed.
Twin Surprise Page 7
