RoxannesPirate Page 14

  “Good.” Carlos kissed her softly on the lips.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around him.

  He smiled at her. “I want to see what you think about something.” He brought her to the metal statue he’d been standing in front of when she’d pointed him out to Jill.

  “It looks like it’s made from sand drippings,” she said. “When I was a kid we’d hold wet sand in our hands and let it run out and see how long and high we could make the pile of drips before they collapsed. Here the piles are long and strung out and twisted into shape.”

  “Yes, and the artist has assembled these fragile lines and made what?”

  Roxanne squinted. “A bull!”

  “And cast it all in bronze. Fragility transformed into permanence, vulnerability transformed into an image of power. It’s not just a statue, it’s a poem.”

  “I like it.”

  “So do I.” He took the catalog and circled a number.

  “Are you going to buy it?”

  “My company is finishing up a small resort in Costa Rica. I think this would do well for the entrance hall in the manor house.” He checked his watch. “We should go across the street and see if our table is ready.”

  The restaurant was noisy and crowded. Roxanne was relieved when they were seated in a quiet alcove in the rear of the restaurant, though she was surprised to see three empty tables near them.

  Carlos kissed her hand. “I want you again.” He touched her fingers to his lips.

  “How do you want me?”

  “Any way that gives you pleasure.”

  “Not like this afternoon.”

  “That was your idea.”

  “What is your idea?”

  His smile deepened and a look came into his dark eyes that raised sparks along Roxanne’s spine. “You in bed, tied up with black ribbons at your wrists and ankles and behind your thighs, completely at my mercy.”

  Her bones and muscles turned to jelly. “That can be arranged,” she whispered.

  Two waiters arrived and pulled together the three empty tables. In seconds a boisterous group, two women and four men, sat down. Roxanne recognized one of the women from the crowd at the gallery. She was a handsome woman with very short brown hair and long dangling earrings like fan coral in which tiny colored crystals sparkled. She took the seat closest to Carlos. A man with long brown hair and bangs cut straight across his face just above the rim of his blue plastic sunglasses sat next to Roxanne.

  “You were at the opening,” the woman addressed Carlos. She had a faint accent that Roxanne could not identify. “What did you think of the show?”

  “For me, the only memorable piece was Gironelli’s Bull.”

  A heavyset gray-haired man with a long yellow scarf tied around his neck leaped to his feet and held out his hand to Carlos.

  “Buena sera!” He had a heavy Italian accent. “I am Eduardo Gironelli. That was my piece you admired!”

  Carlos introduced himself and Roxanne.

  “What a lovely name for a lovely woman,” Eduardo said. He took Roxanne’s hand and kissed it.

  “Sit down and behave, Eduardo,” the woman said. She introduced herself as Lisa, Eduardo’s agent. “Are you a collector?” she asked Carlos.

  “I acquire art for my company’s properties.”

  “The bull would be a wonderful addition, no?” Lisa said.

  Eduardo slapped the table. “Enough business! Pull up your table and join us. Tonight is my treat because you admired my bull!”

  Lisa leaned to Carlos. “I hope you weren’t planning on a romantic dinner. Eduardo will pester you until you give in.”

  Carlos glanced at Roxanne. She smiled back at him.

  “It will be our pleasure to join you,” Carlos said. He switched to Italian and the others at the table responded in a rush of words.

  “Do you speak Italian?” the man with the blue glasses and the bangs asked Roxanne.

  She shook her head. “The only other language I speak is legalese.”

  The man looked puzzled.

  “Where the party of the first part sells, assigns and otherwise conveys the property heretofore set forth in Appendix A.”

  “Ah, you’re a lawyer!” He smiled. “She’s a lawyer,” he announced to Eduardo.

  “Beauty and brains,” Eduardo said. He grinned at Roxanne, his gaze wandering from her breasts to her face and back to her breasts.

  The dinner conversation flowed back and forth in a multiplicity of languages. A great deal of wine was consumed and the food was passed family style in large terracotta bowls. Eduardo was a man of passionate interests. He went on a long tirade about commerce and art. Roxanne understood only half of what he said. He seemed to admire the work of only a few living artists.

  “Rudarte does interesting metal work,” he said. “But he is in danger of becoming too commercial.”

  “I have a chess set he designed in titanium, stainless steel and aluminum,” Carlos said. He gripped Roxanne’s hand under the table. “The pieces are very organic.”

  “I’ve seen it,” Eduardo said. “I did wonder what he drew on for his inspiration.” He smirked. “The pieces fit well in the hand, and in other places.” He looked at Roxanne. “Have you played with it?”

  Roxanne could feel her face blushing scarlet. She had the uncomfortable feeling her nipples were visible through the thin fabric of her dress. Eduardo’s face broadened into a lecherous grin. Carlos put his arm around Roxanne’s shoulders. He said something in Italian to Eduardo. The group at the table erupted in laughter. Eduardo raised his glass of wine in salute.

  The man in the blue sunglasses leaned close to Roxanne. She moved from Carlos’ embrace to hear what her neighbor had to say. “Your lover told Eduardo that the territory Eduardo is admiring so much is already claimed, and he will consider buying the metal bull only if Eduardo can keep his own bull under control.” The man laughed. “It was much funnier in Italian.”

  When the coffee arrived, Carlos and Lisa concluded a deal for the purchase of the bull.

  “It’s been a pleasure dining with you,” Carlos said, “but my lady and I must be going.”

  Eduardo stood and gave Carlos a bear hug. He reached across the table and once again took Roxanne’s hand and kissed it. He seemed reluctant to let her go. “You and Carlos must be my guests at my farm in Tuscany this summer. You will stay with me and I will show you true Tuscan hospitality.”

  “What a generous offer,” Carlos said. “Perhaps we will.”

  Roxanne shook hands with her friend in the blue glasses and with Lisa and waved farewell to the others at the table. Carlos took her hand and led her through the restaurant. When they reached the street, he slipped his hand around her waist.

  “There’s a place a few blocks from here where a salsa band plays. It’s early yet for the music but I’d had enough of Eduardo.”

  “I enjoyed the dinner,” Roxanne said truthfully. “I’ve never been to Tuscany.”

  “I’m not sure we should trust Eduardo as a host. He has too much interest in you.”

  Roxanne laughed. The prospect of a future with Carlos, even if it had as little substance as a cloud, gave a charming haze to the night. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him tenderly. “You needn’t worry about me. I’m taken.”

  The look of longing she’d seen earlier was again plainly inscribed in the lines of his face, in the set of his jaw. “Are you?”

  “I’m all yours.” She kissed him again.

  He sighed softly. They walked slowly down the street, hand in hand. They came to a corner that had been strung with lights. Furniture had been set up to create an outdoor club. “It’s early yet,” Carlos said. “Later when the band is playing, there will be a line to get in.”

  “In New York, we’d be ankle-deep in frozen slush.”

  “I like New York. I’ll like it even better knowing you’re there.”

  “I’m a Jersey girl.” She nuzzled his neck. “Don’t mistake me for a sophisticated Manhatt
anite. When you come to see me, I’ll cook you dinner and tuck you into my cozy bed.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “But first, you’ll have to tie me to it.”

  He laughed a deep husky laugh and pulled her close. She leaned her head against his shoulder. She had not meant to raise the question of what was to be between them after this weekend, but it was there before them. “Will you come see me soon?”

  “I have a business deal I’m putting together. I’ll be traveling a lot, but I promise, when it’s finished, we’ll be together. I’ll take you sailing.”

  She lifted her head, relieved. “That would be lovely.” She stepped away from him. “Right now, I have to find the ladies’ room.”

  A waiter directed Roxanne around the corner where a guard sat at the entrance to a gallery. Roxanne followed the guard’s directions to make a left down a long corridor. The bathroom was a single stall at the end of the corridor. She winced slightly when she sat on the toilet. She laughed at herself. That will teach you to provoke him.

  She washed her hands at the black sink, smiling at her reflection. She had a pleasant feeling of dislocation, as if she were living someone else’s life, a life that was much more exciting and vital than her own. I have a lover waiting for me. The lover of my dreams. She thought of the night they had met and the murmurings of the vixenish side of her psyche that had led her to seduce him. Could she ever have anticipated a day like the one they had shared? And it isn’t over yet. First we dance, and then we’ll make love again. She sighed, almost too happy. She touched a little pink lipstick to her mouth. She opened the door and flashed a quick smile to the woman who was waiting to go in.

  She glanced at one of the black-and-white photographs that lined the shiny red walls of the corridor. How would she explain to Jill how she and Carlos had met? How to explain that he had humiliated her but she’d forgiven him? She imagined Jill’s shock and at once pictured Evan’s face when he’d seen Carlos. Was he really upset that Roxanne had a lover? Did he honestly expect her to wait like a nun for Paul’s return?

  The door at the far end of the corridor opened. Several people stood in the doorway.

  “I’ll have the piece wrapped and shipped tomorrow, Mr. Murkley.”

  “Thank you, Adam,” said a man in a smooth, clear voice, a voice Roxanne immediately recognized.

  “Yes, thank you,” said the unmistakable fluty voice of Ines Da Silva, Hector Rivera’s former girlfriend.

  Roxanne froze. Panic threatened to close her throat, explode her heart. She could not reach the door to the outside before they did.

  Roxanne turned quickly to face the wall, pretending her gaze had been caught by one of the photographs.

  “Roxanne!” Ines said. “What an unexpected pleasure!”

  She had no choice but to greet Ines. There was no place to run. No place to hide.

  Ines was dressed in a tight gold dress. By her side was a tall, handsome man with a thick head of silver hair and sharp blue eyes set in a face that was unlined by age or sorrow or joy. It was the devil himself.

  “Hello, Ines.”

  “Here is the one I told you about, John,” Ines said. “The one who was of such interest to Carlos Delgado.”

  “We’ve met before, Roxanne,” the devil said pleasantly. “I’m John Murkley. I was a friend of your father.”

  “Really?” Roxanne could not look him in the face. “You have on an extraordinary dress, Ines.”

  “Thank you. You look well too.”

  “We met in the garden outside your father’s study,” the devil continued. “You surprised him. I was handing him an envelope.”

  He wants to be certain I know. He wants to hurt me. She stood straighter.

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “I felt a personal loss when he died.” The devil smiled. “Our relationship was quite profitable. Judges are so poorly paid—who can blame them if they seek to take advantage of their positions? Of course, others might not have seen it in such a benevolent light.”

  Her dinner churned in her stomach but she smiled at him.

  “I’m glad to hear you were able to help each other out,” she said. I will not let you see me bleed!

  Ines’ laughter was light and lovely. “Roxanne is such a green girl, John,” she said. “Shouldn’t we be going?”

  They walked to the door.

  Roxanne did not flinch when the devil turned and gave her one last appraising look. There was no desire in his glance, no warmth, no hate, only curiosity, like a child who had plucked the wings off an insect and wondered how much time would pass before it died.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Carlos stood leaning his left forearm on the top of a tall, round, bar table. His face was turned in the direction of the band, which was setting up in one corner of the lot. The leaves of a nearby potted palm tree cast shadows across his face. The light from one of the strings of bulbs that crisscrossed the lot caught a glint of gold on his finger as he moved his hand to his face then away then back to his face. Roxanne saw he was smoking a cigar.

  What do I tell him about Ines and Murkley? What do I say? Roxanne swallowed to remove the fear and anger that were lodged in her throat. She walked slowly across the lot to join him.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Carlos said. He held up the cigar, the tip of it glowed. “I don’t often indulge, but tonight I had the urge.”

  “I don’t mind,” Roxanne said. “I like the smell.”

  “They roll these here in Miami.” Carlos put the cigar to his mouth and drew on it. “Not quite as good as a Cuban but quite pleasant.” He blew out a hazy plume of smoke. He frowned. “You look troubled. What’s the matter?”

  “I saw Ines. She was with John Murkley.” She wanted to spit the bitter taste out of her mouth.

  Carlos raised his eyebrows. His forehead wrinkled, then smoothed. He flicked the ash from his cigar into the glass ashtray on the table. “Did Ines say anything to you?”

  What to tell him?

  “She saw me. She said hello. She told Murkley I was the one she had mentioned—the one you were so interested in.”

  He took another puff on his cigar.

  “Murkley introduced himself to me.” She faltered. She could not tell him the rest. Not yet. “He has bodyguards and a big black car,” she said.

  “Ines is moving up in the world.”

  “You don’t seem upset by this.”

  He looked at his cigar as if he was appraising its value. “Why should I be upset?”

  “Murkley is real. He isn’t just a name on a piece of paper. He lives and breathes and buys fancy cars and pieces of art.” Her voice shook. “If he’s guilty of taking the money from Dover Key and ruining Spencer Marshall, he shouldn’t be free. He should be punished.”

  Carlos gave a gruff laugh. “Tell that to your friend Evan Blake. It’s his job to put away the bad guys.”

  A filament of hope rose in Roxanne’s heart. “If you went to Evan with what you know, told him your suspicions, maybe he could do something.”

  “He’d laugh at me,” Carlos said. “I have no solid evidence of any wrongdoing. I have no witnesses. I told you this before. You think there’s a shortage of crime or criminals for Blake to chase? You said he was very busy. Do you think he’s going to drop his big case to help me chase shadows?”

  He’s right. “What about Ines?”

  “Ines can take care of herself.”

  “Would she help you?”

  “Ines’ loyalty goes to the highest bidder. Ask Hector Rivera about that. If he couldn’t afford to keep her, I’m certainly not in any position to outbid John Murkley.” He sighed. “Forget Murkley. I’m sorry I told you about him. There are plenty of bad people in the world. He’s just one among many.”

  The band members picked up their instruments and began to tune up. Over the sound of the guitar and the blasts of the trombone and saxophone, Roxanne heard a different sound coming from her handbag.

  “Your cell phone
is ringing,” Carlos pointed out.

  “I know. I can tell from the ringtone it’s my mother.”

  “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

  “She’ll leave a message.”

  “I lost my mother years ago, but I think about her often and wish I could hear her voice.”

  She gave a brief laugh. “You make me feel guilty.”

  “Maybe she has something important to tell you.”

  Roxanne sighed and took out her phone. “She left me a message.” She listened to her mother’s voice and put the phone back in her bag.

  “Everything okay?”

  “She wants me to attend a ceremony in D.C. in a few weeks. One of my father’s law clerks has endowed a scholarship in my father’s honor at George Washington University. She and my brothers and their wives are going.”

  “That’s nice. It must be nice to have family.”

  She shrugged and looked at the band. The guitarist struck a chord and the other members joined him. Carlos put a finger under her chin and turned her face to him. “Roxanne,” his voice was full of concern, “why are you so sad?”

  That question again! Your sadness drove Paul away. Will it also drive Carlos away? Her voice quavered, “I don’t know.” Liar! For someone who values honesty, you lie an awful lot.

  He wrapped her in his arms. She tasted smoke and ash on his tongue, but on his mouth it was sweet. He brushed his lips along the side of her neck. He traced the outline of her halter with the tips of his fingers. She took one of his hands and held it up to her face, and kissed his palm. He was a man with locked doors and secrets. For now, he would have to accept that she had her own.

  “Are we all right?” he asked.

  She nodded and smiled at him. “We’re all right.”

  The band began to play. Carlos took her in his arms. They danced.

  They drove home late, speaking little. She took his hand and led him to his bedroom. She unbuttoned his shirt. “Eduardo made you jealous.”

  “He wanted you because you are beautiful but also because he saw my desire for you. My desire for you sharpened his.” He undid her halter and lowered it from her breasts. “But I won’t share you with anyone.” He gently stroked her skin. “I don’t want anyone else to know how soft your skin is.” He kissed her neck and all along the curve of her breasts, his tongue danced over her nipples. He pulled her dress down and kissed her belly. “I don’t want anyone else to know how sweet you taste.” He lowered her panties down her legs. She stepped out of them. He gently pressed her legs open. His tongue flickered over her clit and labia. She held his head. He sat back on his heels and traced her folds. “I don’t want anyone else to know how wet you are, how tight you hold me inside you.”