Mi Carino (8 page)

Diego smirked. “
Si
, like Juan Juarez. However Señor Juarez’s wealth followed him from Colombia.” The levity in his tone lifted and his broad shoulders seemed to bulk with tension. “The pain and suffering of the migrants he stole from has made him the Prince of Port Delgado.”

“
Yes, I remember reading about his expansion of ownership of the shops along the boardwalk.” Marcella finally remembered why she felt she knew Mr. Juarez. If she hadn’t been so distracted with Richard and the funerary she would have remembered sooner. The man had a lot of clout in the city.

Diego’s eyes darkened, he gave a slight nod. “He used to own this one.”

Marcella paused. “Used to?”

“
It is my place now.” Diego informed her.

“
Oh?” Marcella didn’t know how to respond. Her gaze swept the walls. There were pictures of famous South American musicians and a few politicians. Diego’s intense stare switched and focused beyond their table. Marcella felt compelled to look over, seeing an old man who sipped from his soupspoon. “The man there, he is Jesus Rodriguez, I remember him.”

“
You do? From where?”

“
Thirty years ago he was the biggest importer out of Colombia. That was before Juan Juarez took his land and forced him to America to work in the factories here. He’s had several strokes.”

“
Sounds like Mr. Juarez is a gem of a guy.” Marcella said.

“
You had business with him?” Diego asked. “The day we met you were meeting with him?”

“
Yes. He sold me, um, my gallery an Egyptian figurine called a funerary. It’s one of the treasured items that was buried with a Pharaoh between the 13
^th
and 26
^th
Dynasty.”

“
Sounds fascinating.”

A large pot of yellow rice with a broiled lobster baked in the center arrived. It smelled divine. Her stomach muscles tightened and her mouth began to water. She looked up at Diego and he sipped his wine.

“
This is wonderful. It smells delicious.”

He set aside his wine glass and accepted the large serving spoon. Marcella handed him her plate and watched him dish out the fluffy yellow rice, rich with shrimp, clams, scallops, lobster meat, green peas, and crab legs.

“
Thank you,” she said accepting the plate.

“
It is respectful that I offer you the first bite,” he said.

She looked at him curiously, her fork in hand. “Is it?”

“
Yes.” He set aside the potted meal and drew the plate to the center of the table. Then he forked some of the seafood and steamy rice, blew it cool and extended the fork to her. Marcella opened her mouth and accepted the serving. She smiled, chewing.

“
Tastes better this way, no?” he nodded for agreement.

“
It does.”

The meal had a scrumptious spicy flavor. Her favorite was
Aborrajado,
deep friend plantains with stuffed cheese. Marcella sampled her meal mostly with Diego feeding her. She listened to his wild tales of the people and customs of Port Delgado’s residents from South America. When she asked twice if Colombia was the place of his childhood or if he was from around here, he slipped past the questions. She didn’t mind. His humor compensated for his aloofness. Not funny, ha-ha, but funny with witty humor that made her notice a person leaving the bathroom with a tissue stuck to the bottom of his shoe, or a wife picking at the waiters tip left on the table when her husband’s back was turned because she felt it was too much. He observed people and their habits mostly, causing her to do the same.

It should have been a relaxing, innocuous conversation, but every time she caught his eyes they lowered to her lips and she felt her pulse race.

Dessert arrived. A decadent slice of chocolate pecan torte was placed in front of her. Marcella loosened the top button to her jeans discreetly, and she kept babbling, adding in the conversation the similarities to Delgado and her home. He nodded and listened intently but he never pressed, letting her offer what she chose, questioning nothing. She liked that.

“
One bite for me,
nena
,” He placed the spoon of decadence to her lips.

“
Oh, I’m going to pay for this. I shouldn’t,” she said thinking of the extra pounds that would expand her middle. She didn’t want to spend the rest of the day sucking in her diaphragm so he didn’t notice her tummy.

“
One.” He insisted.

She accepted a spoonful of the rich chocolate dessert onto her tongue. It tasted dark, sensual and delicious, despite the jumble of nerves and the attraction between them making whoopee in her tummy.

“
Good, no?”

“
Fabulous.” she said, licking her lips. His jaw tightened and his attention narrowed on her when she did the action, she could tell he was affected too.
Thank God.
She thought she was crazy feeling this connection between them so soon. Susan wasn’t going to believe this.

“
Let me,” she said reaching for the spoon. His hand dropped away and she scooped up some of the chocolate then brought the spoon to his mouth. He stared at her for a moment and she thought he’d refuse. A darkness full of mystery flashed behind those dreamy eyes, but flickered away. His mouth parted and his tongue emerged, just partially, but the action of accepting the velvety smooth dessert, destroyed the wall of resistance she’d been erecting. He winked and licked his lips.

Marcella’s nipples tightened against the confines of her bra, and her thighs tensed, unable to hold back the flood of heat rushing from the very core of her being.
This man. This man.

“
Join me upstairs.”

“
What?” she asked.

Diego cast her a mischievous grin. “I said before, you please me. The office upstairs has a pleasant enough suite. Join me.”

“
I uh, I don’t think I understand what you’re asking? Are you propositioning me?” she said, hoping the language barrier between them was at fault.

“
You are sexy, Marcella. Very. Is it wrong for me to want to know more?”

Marcella fumed in silence.

“
You look at me with distrust.
Ven aqui
.” He offered his hand. “There’s nothing to fear. Join me.”

“
I don’t speak Spanish,” she snapped.

“
You sure about that?”

“
What does that mean?”

“
I don’t know Marcella, something about you feels like we should be familiar. I haven’t asked why...”

“
If you mean am I of Latin descent, I suppose I am. My mother is black American and my father is Cuban.”

“
Aha, see I knew there was something familiar between us.”

“
Not familiar enough for you to presume I’d fall in bed with you.” Marcella said under her breath, keeping her voice tight with indignation but lowered.

“
That was simply a wish, not a presumption,” he smirked. “I did ask.”

“
Well I’m sorry to disappoint you.” She rose and immediately someone rushed her to help with her jacket. A flustered state of nerves, she grabbed her beret, purse and snatched her jacket from the man offering to assist. He charmed her over lunch, and she found him quite sexy. However, he poured cold water all over the sexy with his pompous arrogance. It felt almost as if he did it on purpose. She half expected when she left that he’d stop her, maybe offer the appropriate apology for ruining a really nice date. Ask for her phone number? Try to convince her she misunderstood his intentions. But he didn’t. Did the man just have women fall into bed with their legs in the air all the time? Was he serious?

Once out the door, she wondered if she was overreacting. It was instant. Garrett said she could be uptight at times. Susan said she needed to take more risks. Well she had, she flirted back, been open to a stranger. Indulged a little in the lustful yearning that allowed him to touch her hand, and didn’t object when he flirted back.

To hell with second-guessing herself. Nothing could be wrong with demanding respect. Besides he had been so damn arrogant and secretive, a very unappealing mix. She hurried away. He tipped his hat to her. She rolled her eyes.  

Marcella walked faster. Once her feet hit the boardwalk she glanced back. In the distance he emerged at the window of the building. He stared after her. The look in his eyes nearly compelled her to stop, so she looked away and walked faster.

Chapter Five

Marcella threw her coat and purse to the chair. She was having a nasty morning. It started with the neighbor in the loft below who decided to blast his radio at the top of the volume at only four in the morning. Then Ginger had dashed away from her when she tiptoed out to the trash compactor. It took her thirty minutes to locate the feline, who had disappeared down the stairs and into another hall. To top it all off, the line in the pastry shop extended to the back of the small store, meaning she had to pass on her morning coffee. She needed her coffee. Sam always bought the cheap stuff.

“
What the hell else could go wrong?” she groaned aloud.

At the very least, Sam had brought the mail into her office. She picked up the envelopes and flipped through them, pacing before her desk. Marcella thumbed through bills and invitations; she focused on a letter addressed to the gallery. Marcella tossed the others and immediately opened the letter:

Dear Ms. Garcia,

We’ve received your request for a meeting with Edward Katchner. At this time he is not entertaining any offers. If this changes in the future we will consider your request again.

Sincerely,

The Office of Scientific Archaeological Studies (SAS)

“
No. No. No!” Marcella clenched the letter in her hand.

“
Hi,” Susan said, she strolled in. Marcella paused when she noticed the diamond studs that belonged to her sparkling on her best friend’s lobes. Susan loved to accessorize. The problem was she did most of it in Marcella’s closet.

“
What’s wrong?” Susan asked.

“
Read it!” Marcella forced the letter on her. She put a hand to her forehead, and paced in front of Susan with her nostrils flared. “He doesn’t want to meet? Everything has finally come together and he sends me a form letter from his office? We need this discovery to re-establish our credibility.”

“
Marcella…”