by Barbara Lohr
Cara. Tossed about in markets and restaurants with seductive abandon, the word now magically applied to her.
After he’d settled the bill, Mallory hustled her back to the Piazza San Marco. “This surprise will be quintessentially Venice. Trust me.”
“Are we going back to the islands?” Funny how she enjoyed his spontaneous moments. For years her schedule had ensured success. Now? Not so sure.
“No more islands today.” The mystery deepened, along with something else kept deep in her heart.
Chapter 21
Gondolas sat moored along the piers, manned by young men in striped T-shirts and flat-brimmed straw hats. The boats rocked gently on the water. Amy’s delight warmed Mallory’s heart. After a quick conversation with a gondolier, he ushered her into a bright red boat.
“Just like the movies!” Amy cried, reclining on a gently worn cushion. “I feel like Katherine Hepburn!”
“The Rialto Bridge,” Mallory told the gondolier. One push and they were off. “Seeing Venice from a gondola is a must.”
“So you’ve done this before?” Her smile faltered.
Damn. “No, ma’am, as I live and breathe, this is my first gondola ride.” Mallory expelled a tight breath.
The young man maneuvered the prow of the long craft into one of the shaded waterways that threaded through Venice. With slow grace, they glided past aging mansions and under arched walkways.
With Amy nestled next to him, Mallory struggled to concentrate on the scenery, but his mind chattered. How he wanted to drop this ridiculous pretense of being Mallory Schuster. Timing was everything. First, he wanted to be more sure he wasn’t in this alone. Amy seemed to have feelings for him. The tightness in his chest felt familiar and usually accompanied any new acquisition.
A few days ago, he would not have believed he was considering this next step. Like a little boy, he wanted more. More time, more everything…with Amy. Downright amazing how the reservations following his divorce had been wiped out by the delightful time he’d had with her family.
The prospect of losing control of Thornton Enterprises would be enough to put fire to any man’s heels. But that wasn’t it. He didn’t want to go home to the empty mansion. Didn’t want one more Christmas of booking a room in some luxury hotel in the Caribbean. Not after Amy.
As they continued deeper into the waterways, the young gondolier extolled the wonders of various historical points of interest. Amy didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, she lazed in Mallory’s arms like a magnolia blossom, beautiful in her simplicity. He nuzzled a favorite warm spot, just below her right ear. “You are so delicious.”
“Mmm. You too.” She cupped his chin in her soft hand.
He wanted to be held like this forever.
The boat nosed into the Grand Canal.
“Almost home,” he whispered.
“Finally,” she murmured, soft as the cooing of doves tucked up in the crumbling eaves of the Venetian mansions. She shuddered when his tongue flicked her ear lobe.
The Rialto Bridge loomed above, and they glided to a halt under its shadow. When the boat nudged the aged bricks, the gondolier jumped onto the landing. After helping Amy up, Mallory pushed some bills into the young man’s hand and waved good-bye.
They strolled over the bridge, hand in hand. A sense of peace fell over him, such a contrast to the funk he’d been in lately.
Funk. A Chad word. His cousin was probably royally pissed off because Mallory hadn’t been taking his calls.
He should be grateful to Chad. The vacation has been his idea. Chad’s casual comment that he might marry his travel chum and meet the board’s demands had been tossed out as a joke.
Now? He’d never felt like this with Rhonda. Never.
The lobby of Hotel Marconi was empty, with only the concierge busy at the desk. Since the elevator was parked on an upper floor, they headed for the stairs. “Have you thought about dinner?” she asked as she took the lead.
“Not really.” He rested one hand on her wonderfully rounded backside as they climbed the stairs.
Amy’s surprised chortle reached right into his manhood and squeezed. Was this the same shy woman he'd startled on the plane at JFK? Her laugh cinched tight when his hand trailed up her inner thigh, enjoying what he found there.
“They might have cameras on these stairs.” She swatted at his hand playfully.
“Teacher talk again?” Finally reaching their floor, he chased her down the hall and jammed their keycard in the lock. “You know the consequences.”
“Private detention after school?” She threw him a sultry look.
He chuckled. “Right. Studying my favorite subject.”
With a giggle, she twined her arms around his neck and they stumbled through the open door. He slammed it behind them, tossed the keycard on the desk and twisted out of his jacket. Amy’s hands fumbled with his belt buckle and he tried to tug her gauzy top over her head without ripping it. Clothes landed in a pile on the floor, and Amy fell back against the pillow. Her hair formed a radiant halo around her head.
“Definitely Rossetti. You’d put any of his paintings to shame.” Mallory paused to appreciate the vision. Fanned on the pillow case, Amy’s blonde hair shimmered against her porcelain skin. The room lay suffused in the golden glow of late afternoon, but she provided her own radiance. After stepping out of his briefs, he kicked them to the side and dove onto the bed.
When he leveraged himself halfway over her body, every curve of her body came alive. Amy had this way of moving her hips in rhythm even before rhythm was definitely called for. “Are you teasing me?”
She lifted one brow. “Do I have to?”
“Are you kidding?”
Her hands pleased his body with gentle but certain strokes. When Amy made love, there was nothing tentative about it.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked suddenly, her hands stopping.
“Not at all, cara,” Mallory whispered against her lips.
Amy helped him unroll the condom. Somewhere, a cell phone rang. Mallory thought he’d turned the damn thing off. He was definitely technologically challenged.
Amy’s body grew stilled. “Who the heck calls you all the time?”
“No one. Do. Not. Stop,” Mallory ground out the words, accompanied by some serious thrusting. Why wasn’t Chad checking on his showrooms or taking Mirandah shopping?
~.~
When Amy woke up, they were tangled in the sheets, legs overlapping and arms entwined. Snug upon his shoulder, she had one hand flat on his chest. Mallory’s eyes were half open. Anyone who thought blue was a cool color should see his eyes after making love.
Falling back, she took in the Venetian touches in their room. Lordy, was this what the beautiful people did all the time when they traveled?
Beautiful people. Mallory fell into that category. Somehow, she just knew. His picture probably appeared in society magazines she’d never seen.
She didn’t want to know. Not really.
For one week, he’d been perfect.
Was that enough? It had to be.
Her heart pinched.
Mallory curled a length of her hair around his finger. “You're…fun, Amy.”
Fun? Was the bitter taste in her mouth disappointment?
Mallory pulled her tighter, and her arm reached across the amazing breadth of his chest, as if that could hold him. But she couldn’t. He wasn’t a student at her command.
“That was truly amazing.”
She dragged her mind from the edge of the dreadful abyss. “Who knew that marble sink would hold my weight?”
“Cara.” She melted into that word while he chuckled. “I can hold your weight.”
A while later, they made it to the shower. Her laughter turned to moans while he lathered her with rich, almond scented soap. Mallory would get an A for thoroughness. Later, while he shaved again, she called McKenna.
“I need help,” she sputtered when her friend picked up. “Are you seeing patients?”
>
“In between. You sound terrible. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m in love.”
“That’s terrific.” Delight and surprise lifted McKenna’s voice.
“But he hasn’t said anything, McKenna. That’s my problem.”
“Do not make this a problem.” Now McKenna sounded like the teacher. “Give him time. Enjoy…be a babe.”
She gulped. The water had shut off in the bathroom. Mallory was trying to sing “Volare,” and she smiled as she said good-bye. Tucking her phone away, she heard his mobile phone go off and was tempted to answer. But that just felt so wrong. Besides, she had to get dressed.
One hour later, they were strolling toward the piazza.
Certain parts of her body ached. When she was back in the classroom, she would long for this welcome discomfort. All she would have on those cold Chicago days were her usual monthly pains and problems. A stern reminder that no man could give her what she really wanted. How could there be another man after Mallory?
Shivering, she tugged her purple woven shawl tighter around her black sweater. Dry leaves chased down the street in front of them. Fall was coming.
They found a restaurant next to one of the canals down near the Doges Palace. Wide windows afforded a great view. The fish was tender, the salad crisp. She tasted textures but not flavors as they ate in silence. Their last night. The words echoed in her head like the bells from the campanile in the piazza.
“You’re so quiet.” Mallory leaned toward her. The waiter had cleared the table, and they were lingering over coffee. “Have I exhausted you?”
Her glance fell on the dark bay, the lights of Murano winking in the distance. Had that just been today?
“There’s so much we don’t know about each other, Mallory.” Amy regretted her words the moment she’d said them.
Mallory’s shoulders tensed, and then he exhaled with a shake of his head. “You’re right. I learned a lot about you and your family over the past week.”
“You were a good sport about it.” What other man would want to share a week with a woman’s relatives?
“You probably don’t know this because, well, you’ve had them all your life. Your family is real,” Mallory said with a puzzling earnestness.
Amy ran one finger around the rim of her coffee cup. She hadn’t touched a drop. “This week—it's been great. I'd recommend Travel Chums to anyone looking for a good man to share a trip.” There. Didn’t she sound worldly and sophisticated?
Mallory’s face drained. “Time to come clean, Amy…”
Oh. My. God. She held up both hands. “No need, Mallory. Really.”
Was he married? Engaged? She didn’t want to know. Her heart squeezed.
“Please, Amy.” He caught her fingers with one hand. “I’m not a poor traveler who had to troll Travel Chums for a partner to share travel expenses.”
“I suspected as much.” She tried to tug her hand free. “That doesn’t matter. You don't have to tell me any more.”
Mallory’s grip tightened. “It matters to me. For heaven’s sake, will you listen? I own, well, quite a large business. Not just one jewelry store, Amy.”
“Fine. Good…I guess.”
“Whole string of them, actually.” Briefly he filled her in, and the words crumbled over her like the stonework in Vernazza. When he got to the part about Miriam Schuster being his assistant, the pebbles shifted from her feet to her stomach. She was right back in that locker room, deception thick in the air instead of steam.
“Amy?” Frowning, Mallory signed the check. “Are you all right?”
She fought to push through a wall of disappointment. “It’s just a lot to take in, Mallory. I have this thing about truth.”
Like the truth she hadn’t shared with Jason until it was almost too late? Was she being a hypocrite? She sprang to her feet, the chair scraping the floor in loud protest.
“I do too, or I wouldn't be telling you this.” Taking her elbow, Mallory steered her toward the door.
“It really doesn’t matter now, does it?” Their final evening together. Amy wrapped her arms around her waist as they pushed outside. If I can just hold it together for one more night. The night air held the foreboding of autumn, and mist coated her cheeks. Or was she crying?
She’d never heard of Thornton Enterprises. What did it matter? She cared about the man, not the company. When Mallory tried to put his arm around her, she twisted away. Finally he stuck his hands into the pockets of his khaki chinos.
Compared to this week, her life had played out in black and white. This past week, she’d lived in vibrant color. All because of Mallory.
She loved him. Funny, considerate, charming.
She loved all of him, no matter who he was.
The lights from the cruise ship blinked across the dark bay. They walked until the Piazza San Marco lay before them, musicians setting up to play. Mallory and Amy took a table and eventually danced in the moonlight. The song was “Strangers in the Night,” and it had never sounded so sad, the kind of sad that could haunt you forever. Tightening her arms around his neck, she laid her head on his shoulder.
Just had to hold him one last time.
“Amy, please don't be angry. I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered.
Anger jerked her back. “Mallory, it’s different for me, okay? I’ll always remember this...trip. For me, there isn’t a string of trips. Probably not a chance to come back. Just this.”
Her favorite honeymoon. So different from what she planned.
No one could plan anything this perfect.
But of course she couldn’t say that. The words lodged in her throat with the certainty of regret.
“My God. Do you think I won’t remember?” Eyes earnest, almost pleading, he unleashed a wobbly smile. “Lordy, hasn’t it been crazy, Amy? Crazy and wonderful.”
“Yep. Right.” Clutching his arms, she didn’t want to ever let him go.
“Let's get married tonight.” His arms tightened.
“What…what did you say?”
“Let’s get married. We should, Amy.”
“Oh, Mallory.” What was he saying?
He gave her a little shake. “Is that a yes or a no?”
And he kissed her. Kissed her into yes.
What was she waiting for?
Amy threw herself over the ledge of her caution…and it felt glorious.
“Yes. Let’s,” she gasped, coming up for air. “But, Mallory, there’s just one thing.”
Her words trailed after him as he broke and took off across the piazza, pulling her behind him. She had to tell him, didn’t she? But he would not slow down.
Caitlin’s words rang in her ears. She would tell her to “let loose.” McKenna and Vanessa might be thrilled beyond belief that Amy was, after all, a babe.
Heart beating in her throat, she started to run. Mallory headed toward the water taxis.
“I have to call Caitlin.”
“Good thinking. They can be our witnesses.” He glanced out at the lights sparkling on the cruise ship.
One call to Caitlin and Kurt and her sister’s loud shrieks made this craziness even more real. While they waited near the water taxis for her sister to arrive, Amy and Mallory cuddled and did things that other lovers do in Venice. They just don’t do them in public.
Finally, her sister and her boyfriend arrived, breathless and eyes bright with excitement. The four of them jumped aboard a water taxi.
“You sure about this?” Caitlin whispered as the boat cut a straight path through water.
“Positive.”
“Good.” Caitlin squeezed her elbow. “Wait ‘til Mom hears.”
Apparently Mallory had made some calls. When they arrived, the captain was waiting in his state room. Low lighting caught the glint of the gold trim on his black uniform. A female officer pushed a bouquet of white calla lilies into Amy’s hands. The ceremony was short but quite conclusive.
This had to be a movie of a
nother woman’s life.
Amy was married…on the trip that was to have been her honeymoon, and she was married to a man she loved dearly.
The fact that he might not feel the same? She would deal with it later. He must have some feelings for her, especially after the hurtful stories about Rhonda. Why else would he have done this?
“Happy?” Mallory asked as they returned to shore.
“Very.” She closed her mind and listened to her heart.
Chapter 22
As the water taxi headed toward Marco Polo Airport, Mallory should have felt damn near ecstatic, but he had some loose ends to tie up. He hated loose ends.
The night before had gone well. Of course Amy would be moving to Savannah, and her family could visit anytime, especially since Thornton Enterprises would be doing business with them. How fortunate that Louise and Caitlin both had cottage industries. The mentoring aspect should appeal to his board. And if not? He really didn’t give a damn.
Still, had he overlooked something? He pressed his fingertips into closed eyelids, but when he opened them again, the fog hadn’t cleared.
“Sleepy?” Amy peered up at him.
“A little.” Mallory massaged his new wife’s neck. The knots in her shoulders resisted. When the taxi hit a wave, icy spray splashed them. Amy gasped. He’d be glad to get back on dry land.
Out of touch for a week, he craved action. Decision-making.
“We should talk, Mallory.”
His stomach plummeted. The boat slapped another oncoming wave.
“Can it wait? We’re almost at the airport.” Up ahead, the lights blasted the darkness. He was too brain dead for a discussion. He’d already put two calls in to Chad, but his cousin wasn’t picking up. Straining through the darkness, he kept his eyes on the lights.
After returning from the cruise ship, Caitlin and Kurt had gone their own way. Amy had called Louise and Aunt Em. Mallory could hear them squealing from the other side of the room. Sharing the news was fun. How he did love Amy’s glow, and he looked forward to seeing Louise and Aunt Em again. But he needed to get in touch with Chad, and that had to be a private conversation.
When they finally fell asleep, they’d slept so soundly they’d nearly missed the water taxi. Amy had been quiet as they rushed to leave the hotel. Now she wanted to talk? First, he had some things to straighten out on his end.
