Daring to Dream

by Nora Roberts

  I would have swept down on my winged charger and saved you."

  She could picture it. Claudio was one of the few men who wouldn't look foolish on a winged charger. "I saved myself, but thanks."

  "You lost Bella Donna. I'm sorry for it."

  "So was I. But now I have this."

  His head angled, his mouth quirked. "A shopkeeper, Margo mia."

  "A shopkeeper, Claudio."

  "Come." He took her hand again, and though his voice was teasing, his eyes were serious. "Let me whisk you away from this. To Roma, with me. I have a new project to begin in a few months. There's a part perfect for you, cara. She's strong, sexy, glamorous. Heartless."

  She laughed delightedly. "Claudio, you flatter me. Six months ago I'd have snapped it up, without worrying that I'm not an actress. Now I have a business."

  "So, let someone else see to it. Come with me. I'll take care of you." He reached out, toyed with her hair, but his eyes were serious. "We'll have that affair we always meant to have."

  "We never got around to that, did we? That's why we still like each other. No, Claudio, though I am very, very touched and very, very grateful."

  "I don't understand you." He began to prowl again. "You weren't meant to make change and box trinkets. This is not the—Dio! These are your dishes." He stopped at a shelf and gawked. "You have served me pasta on these plates."

  "Good eye," she murmured.

  That eye was dazed as he turned back, began to recognize other things he had admired as a guest in her home in Milan. "I thought it was a joke, a poor one, that you were selling your possessions. Margo, it should not have come to this."

  "You make it sound as though I'm living out of a shopping cart in an alley."

  "It's humiliating," he said between his teeth.

  "No, it's not." She bristled, then calmed herself. He was only thinking of her. Or the woman he had known. She, Margo realized, would have been humiliated. "It's not. I thought it would be, but I was wrong. Do you want to know what it is, Claudio?"

  He swore again, ripely, and gave serious thought to hauling her over his shoulder and carrying her off. "Yes, I want to know what it is."

  She came close to him, until they were eye to eye. "It's fun."

  He nearly choked. "Fun?"

  "Great, wonderful, giddy fun. And do you know what else? I'm good at it. Really good at it."

  "You mean this? You're content?"

  "No, I'm not content. I'm happy. It's mine. I sanded the floors. I painted the walls."

  He paled a little, pressed a hand to his chest. "Please, my heart."

  "I scrubbed the bathrooms." She laughed and gave him a bracing kiss. "And I loved it."

  He tried to nod, but couldn't quite pull it off. "I'd have some more wine, if you please."

  "All right, but then you have to browse." She filled his glass and her own before tucking her arm through his. "And while we're browsing, I'll tell you what you can do for me."

  "Anything."

  "You know a lot of people." Her mind was working quickly as she led him toward the stairs. "People who grow tired of last year's fashions or the trinkets they bought. You could give them my name. I'd like first shot at the discards."

  "Jesus" was all he could say as they climbed the stairs.

  The first thing Josh noted when he walked into the shop was the deposit bag. He shook his head at her carelessness, then locked the door. Going behind the counter, he tucked the bag back into the till—and noticed her shoes.

  He was going to have a little talk with her about basic precautions, but it could wait. In his pocket was his grandmother's ring. He was still rolling with the excitement he'd felt when he'd lifted it out of the safety deposit box. The square-cut Russian white diamond might have been fashioned with Margo in mind. It was sleek and glamorous and full of cold fire.

  He was going to dazzle her with it. He would even go so far as to get down on one knee—after he had plied her with a little champagne. A man needed an edge with Margo.

  She would probably balk at the idea of marriage, but he would sweet-talk her into it. Seduce her into it if necessary. It wouldn't be such a sacrifice. The image of her wearing nothing but his ring was alluring enough to calm the nerves in the pit of his stomach.

  Enough fun and games, he told himself. Time for serious business.

  He started up the steps, nearly called out to her when he heard her laughter drift out like smoke. Nearly smiled before he heard the low male chuckle that followed.

  A customer, he told himself, furious at the instant knee jerk of jealousy. But when he walked to the doorway of the boudoir, the knee jerk jolted into a full, vicious kick.

  She was locked in a man's arms, and the kiss had enough smolder to singe him where he stood.

  He thought of murder, bloody, bone-breaking, brain-splattering murder. His hands clenched into ready fists, the snarl already in his throat. But pride was nearly as violent an emotion as vengeance. It iced over him in a gale wind as Margo drew back.

  "Claudio." Her voice was a silky purr. "I'm so glad you came. I hope we can—" She spotted Josh then, and myriad emotions flickered over her face. Surprise, pleasure, guilt, amusement. The amusement didn't last. His eyes were hard and cold and much too easy to read. "Josh."

  "I wasn't expected," he said coolly. "I know. But I don't think an apology for the interruption's in order."

  "This is a friend from Rome," she began, but he cut off her explanation with a look that sliced to the bone.

  "Save the introductions, Margo. I won't keep you from entertaining your friend."

  "Josh." He was halfway down the stairs before she reached the landing. "Wait."

  He shot her one last, lethal look as he flipped open the lock on the front door. "Stay healthy, Margo. Stay away from me."

  "Cara." Claudio laid a hand on Margo's shoulder where she stood shivering at the base of the stairs. "I'm surprised he let us live."

  "I have to fix it. I have to make him listen. Do you have a car?"

  "Yes, of course. But if I could suggest giving him a little time to calm—''

  "It doesn't work that way with Josh." Her hand was shaking as she reached for her purse, forgetting her shoes. "Please, Claudio. I need a ride."

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Contents - Prev

  She'd worked up a fine head of steam by the time she burst into the penthouse. Being angry, being furious was better than being terrified.

  And she had been terrified when she'd read that cold disgust in his eyes, heard the icy dismissal in his voice. She wasn't going to tolerate that. No, sir, not for one New York minute. He was going to have to crawl.

  "Josh Templeton, you bastard!" She slammed the door at her back and darted toward the bedroom in bare feet. "How dare you walk out on me that way! How dare you embarrass me in front of my friend!"

  Her breath caught with a jerk of a heartbeat when she saw him at the closet calmly transferring clothes into a garment bag. "What are you doing?"

  "Packing. I have to make a run to Barcelona."

  "The hell with that. You're not just walking out." She'd taken two strides forward with the intent of ripping the clothes free when he whirled on her.

  "Don't do it" was all he said, and it shocked her anger back to fear.

  "This is childish," she began, but her teeth chattered as panic shot frozen fingers up her spine. "You don't even deserve an explanation, but I'm willing to overlook your filthy attitude and give you one. Claudio and I—"

  "I didn't ask for an explanation." In quick jerks, he zipped the bag.

  "No," she said slowly. "You've already made up your mind what you saw, what it meant. What I am."

  "I'll tell you what I saw." He dipped his hands into his pockets to keep them off her throat. But his fingers brushed the velvet box he carried and doubled his fury and pain. "I saw you in the bedroom, a couple of glasses of champagne, nice soft light coming in through the lace curtains. A very romantic setting. You had your mouth on anot
her man—your usual type, too, if I'm not mistaken. Fiftyish, rich, foreign."

  He lifted the bag from the hanger, folded it. "What it meant, Margo, is that I walked in on the first act. You should be able to figure out what that makes you."

  She would rather he'd used his fists on her. Surely there would have been less pain in that. "You believe that?"

  He hesitated. How could she sound so hurt? How dare she sound hurt after she'd ripped out his heart and stomped on it while it was still beating. "You've sold sex your whole life, duchess. Why should you change?"

  What little color that was left in her cheeks drained. "I suppose that's true. It looks like my mistake was giving it to you for free."

  "Nothing's free." He bit off the words like stringy meat. "And you had your fun as well. I fit most of the requirements, didn't I? I'm not old enough to be your father, but I qualify for the rest. Rich, restless, irresponsible. Just another social piranha living off the family fortune."

  "That's not true," she said, furious with panic. "I don't think—"

  "We know what we think of each other, Margo." He spoke calmly now, had to speak calmly. "You've never had any more respect for me than you do for yourself. I thought I could live with that. I was wrong. I told you in the beginning I don't share, and I don't want a woman who thinks I'm stupid enough, or shallow enough, to overlook her old friends."

  "Josh." She stepped forward, but he slung the bag over his arm.

  "I'd like you out by the end of the week."

  "Of course." She stood where she was as he brushed by her. She didn't cry, not even when she heard the door close. She simply sank to the floor and rocked.

  "Byron De Witt agreed to take over Ridgeway's position. He'll be ready to make the move to California in six to eight weeks."

  "That's fine." Thomas sipped his after-dinner coffee and exchanged a look with his wife as their son prowled the drawing room of their villa. "He's a good man. Sharp. Tough-minded."

  "You'll go back." Susan crossed her legs. "Through the transitional period."

  "It's not really necessary. Things are again in running order. I wasn't able to lure our old chef back." He flashed a fleeting grin. "But the one I stole from the BHH is working out well."

  "Hmm." He needed to go back, Susan thought, but she would work on that. "How's Laura doing in Conventions?"

  "She's a Templeton." He started toward the brandy, reminded himself that was too easy, and settled for coffee. "She's got a knack for handling people."

  Susan lifted a brow, a signal that she was tossing the ball back into her husband's court. He picked it up smoothly.

  "And she's putting in time at the shop? Not overdoing, is she?"

  "Kate says not. She's a reliable source."

  "I'd feel better if one of us could keep an eye on her for a while yet. She's in a rough patch."

  "Dad, she's handling it. I can't go play baby-sitter."

  "You look tired," Susan said mildly. "That's probably why you're so cranky. Remember, Tommy, how he'd squall if he missed his nap?"

  "Jesus. I'm not cranky. I'm trying to get business settled. I have to be in Glasgow tomorrow afternoon. I don't have time to…" He caught himself as his parents watched him indulgently. There was nothing worse than being smiled at like a fretful child. Unless it was being a fretful child. "Sorry."

  "Don't give it a thought." Thomas rose, slapped him on the back. "What you need's a drink, a cigar, and a nice game of billiards."

  Josh rubbed his tired eyes. When was the last time he'd slept, really slept? Two weeks? Three? "It couldn't hurt," he decided.

  "You go ahead, Tommy, and set things up for your man hour." She patted the cushion beside her. "I want Josh to keep me company for a few more minutes."

  Understanding, Tommy strolled off. "Fifty bucks a ball," he called out.

  "He'll trounce me," Josh muttered as he sat. "He always does."

  "We all have our game." She patted his knee. Hers was a deft and merciless knack for interrogation. "Now, are you going to tell me what happened between you and Margo?"

  "Hasn't Kate given you a full report?"

  She ignored the annoyance in his tone, was sorry for the bitterness underneath it. "Reports are spotty. Apparently Margo is being stubbornly closemouthed. All Kate can drag out of her is that the two of you decided to call it a day."

  "Well, then."

  "And you expect me to believe it's as simple as that when you're sitting here looking mean and miserable?"

  "I caught her with another man."

  "Joshua." Susan set her cup down with a snap. "No," she said positively, "you didn't."

  "I walked into the goddamn bedroom, and there they were."

  She hurt for him, couldn't help but hurt for him. Still, she shook her head. "You misinterpreted something."

  "What the hell is there to misinterpret?" he shot back and sprang up to pace again. "I walked in and she was kissing another man. Fucking Claudio."

  "Josh!" She wasn't so much shocked by the word, but she had taken his statement literally. "I don't believe that."

  "No, I didn't mean—" Frustrated, he dragged both hands through his hair. "It hadn't gotten that far yet. I meant, she called him Claudio."

  "Oh." Her heart settled a little. "Well, what was her explanation?"

  He stopped his pacing to stare at her. "Do you really think I waited around for explanations?"

  On a long sigh, she picked up her coffee again. "No, of course you didn't. You stormed out, wishing them both to go to hell. I'm surprised you didn't toss him out the window on your way."

  "I thought about it," he said with relish. "I thought about tossing both of them. It seemed… more civilized to leave."

  "More pigheaded," she corrected. "Oh, sit down, Joshua.

  You're making me tired just watching you. You know you should have given her a chance to explain."

  "I didn't—don't—want excuses and explanations. Damn it, I overlooked the hordes of men from before, but—"

  "Ah," Susan said with a satisfied nod. Now they had nailed it. "Did you now? Did you really?"

  "I was working on it." He found he did want a brandy after all and poured a generous snifter before he obeyed her command to sit. "When I came home and found her posing naked in our bed, I took it in stride." He caught his mother's eye. "Pretty much in stride. That was business. And when we go out to a restaurant or to the club and every man within half a mile has drool running down the side of his chin, I shrug it off. Mostly."

  "Shame on me. I've raised a jealous fool."

  "Thanks for your support."

  "You listen to me. I understand it must be difficult on one level to love a woman who looks like Margo. The kind of woman who attracts men, inspires fantasies."

  "Good." He gulped at the brandy. "I feel better now."

  "The point is, that's the woman you fell in love with. Now, let me ask you. Did you fall in love with her because she has a beautiful face and a stunning body? Is that all you see when you look at her?"

  "It's the sort of thing that drills between the eyes." But he sighed, surrendered. "No, that's not all I see. That's not why I fell in love with her. She's warm and reckless and stubborn. She's got more guts and brains than she realizes. She's generous and she's loyal."

  "Ah, loyal." Susan smiled smugly. "I'd hoped you wouldn't overlook that. It's one of her most admirable traits. And a woman with Margo's sense of loyalty would not have done what you accused her of doing. Go home, Josh, and deal with this."

  He set the snifter down, closed his eyes. "It wasn't just the men. It was seeing her that way and realizing when I did what we had together, and didn't have. Telling her I loved her didn't seem to be enough. Showing her didn't seem to be enough. She doesn't want what I want, and she'd be shocked speechless if she knew what I wanted."

  "What do you want?" She smiled and brushed at his hair. "I won't be shocked speechless."

  "Everything," he murmured. "Usually Margo understands everything just fine,
but not this time. She doesn't see marriage and family and commitment when she looks at me. She sees a pampered idiot who's more interested in fine-tuning his backhand than in making a contribution to his legacy or building a life."

  "I think you're underestimating both of you. But if you're right, you only proved her point by walking away before you sorted it out."

  "I'd have killed her if I'd stayed. I didn't know she could hurt me like this. I didn't know anyone could."

  "I know. I'm sorry. When you were little and you were hurt, I could make it better by sitting you in my lap and holding on."

  He looked at her, loved her. "Let's try this." He lifted her into his lap and held on. "I think it'll work."

  * * * * *

  Kate sauntered into the shop at midafternoon. She'd had to take an hour off, but she loved being the messenger. "How's it going, troops?"

  Laura glanced up as she slid the credit card machine back under the counter. Automatically she glanced at her watch to be certain she hadn't lost a couple of hours. The girls had to be picked up from dance class at six-thirty sharp.

  "It's going pretty good. What are you doing here this time of day?"

  "Taking a break. Where's Margo?"

  "She's in the wardrobe room with a couple of customers. Kate…" Lowering her voice, Laura leaned over the counter. "We sold my rubies."

  Kate's mind shuffled back. "The necklace. Oh, but Laura, you loved that necklace."

  She only shrugged. "Peter gave it to me for our fifth anniversary—bought it, naturally, with my money. I'm glad it's gone." And her share would go a long way toward paying next year's tuition for her daughters. "And there's more. My supervisor called me in this morning and gave me a raise."

  Kate waited a beat. "The daughter of the owners has a supervisor and gets a raise. I don't understand life."

  "I wanted to start at an entry position. It's only fair."

  "Okay. Okay." Kate held up a hand to hold her off. She understood the need to prove oneself, had been scrambling to do just that all her life. "Congratulations, pal. So I guess everybody's happy."

  Laura had to sigh as she glanced back toward the wardrobe room. "Not everybody."

  "She still being stoic and stubborn?"

  "I could shake her," Laura said fiercely. "She flits around here all day as if nothing in the world is wrong. And as if a couple of layers of polished ivory base coat can hide the shadows under her eyes."

  "Still refusing to move back into the house?"

  "The resort has everything she needs. She loves it there." Laura sucked air through her nose. "I'm going to hit her the next time she says that. And she's already making excuses for skipping the treasure hunt this weekend. Sunday's the only time she can squeeze in for a manicure. It's such bullshit."

  "Ooh, you are pissed. Good, you're going to love what happens when I get hold of her."

  With surprising speed and strength, Laura reached across the counter and grabbed Kate's hand. "What's up? What do you have? Can we double-team her?''

  "That's a thought. Listen, I—Whoops, here she comes. Just follow my lead."