“Just drive us around Mazatlán for a while,” Ty instructed the driver and, leaning back against Emily, sighed with relief. “We did it,” he whispered gleefully, pulling her hand to his mouth and kissing the backs of her fingers.
“But not a moment too soon,” she said ruefully, pointing back at the ship as they pulled away from the pier.
Ty looked in the direction of her finger and grinned. For there, gripping the ship’s rail and radiating a fury that he could feel even at this distance, stood a rather frazzled-looking Roxanne. Her poisonous glare was shaded in chic sunglasses as she scanned the masses for the Newroths. Discovering them just as their cab had pulled out into the early-morning traffic, she watched helplessly and pounded the railing in frustration as her prey escaped her clutches.
“She looked pretty steamed,” Emily said, worry tingeing her brow.
“Probably is,” he agreed affably. “But that’s not our problem, is it, now?”
“No. I guess not.” She twisted back around in her seat and looked up at Ty. “I just can’t seem to help feeling a little bit sorry for her.”
Ty stared down at her in disbelief. “After what she put you through yesterday? You’ve got to be kidding.”
Her features took on an impish quality. “I will admit that she is one tough negotiator when it comes to bargaining for goods and services. I’m sure glad you were there when she got us thrown out of that one marketplace. I thought that several of those shopkeepers were going to string her up alive.”
“And I prevented that?” he grumbled good-naturedly. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Because it would have scared Carmen.” A bemused smile tugged at her lips.
“Better luck next time, huh?” he murmured as his eyes darted to her mouth. Mesmerized by the guileless expression he found there, he battled a sudden urge to kiss those captivating lips. Too bad there was no one here to play the part of newlywed husband in front of, he mused, tearing his eyes away from the beauty at his side.
Throwing an affectionate arm around her shoulders, he forced himself to enjoy the scenic beauty outside the cab instead.
* * *
“You’d better turn over,” Emily suggested, glad for the excuse to study Ty’s fabulous torso.
“Hmm?” Ty mumbled sleepily, and opened a lazy eye in her direction.
Reaching over, she pushed a tentative finger into the pink flesh on his chest. “I think you’re starting to burn a little bit.”
His skin was warm and smooth, and she ached to run her hand over its silky texture. The wind whispered through the palm fronds that stood behind them on the white sandy beach where they’d been lying for the past half hour after an impromptu picnic lunch.
“Um.” Rolling over toward her, Ty ran a hand over her hip. “You’re feeling a little warm yourself. His eyes locked with hers, and they lay like that for what seemed to Emily like eternity.
The muted roar of the clear, aqua sea as it rolled rhythmically to shore lulled her into the surreal feeling that they were alone in paradise. No Roxanne, no Carmen, no Helga, no responsibilities. Just the two of them, away from all of life’s everyday worries and cares.
Emily couldn’t ever remember feeling so completely intoxicated by life. She wished the magic could last forever, and that the rest of the world could be as deliriously happy as she was at that moment.
Ty’s fingers left a trail of hot-and-cold sensations as his hand traveled from her hip along her side, up to her shoulders, and finally to her jaw. Tipping her face over to his, his eyes narrowed and searched the depths of hers, as though trying to find the missing pieces to her soul. The pieces that would offer him some clue to her identity.
Sighing in resignation, he propped himself up on one elbow and allowed his eyes to drink her in. To feast on the image as though imprinting it permanently on his mind; saving the memory for the time when she would eventually disappear.
Emily felt herself drawn into his gaze, tumbling, falling into the irresistible, magical black hole of his powerful attraction, unwilling to fight the desire she felt building, threatening to tear her apart. Giving herself permission to forget everything but the here and now, she reveled in the thrill that coursed through her stomach as Ty lowered his lips to hers.
Wordlessly, they came together, their kiss speaking what words could not. Silently they communicated what it was impossible—taboo—to say aloud. His mouth moved over hers, teasing, tasting, touching, telling her in his own way that he had forgotten, too.
For right here and right now, under the brilliant, cloudless, blue sky, as the crystal marine water rushed toward them on the sparkling sand—they were equal. Yet, as tempting as it was to let the ship—and Roxanne—sail without them, Emily couldn’t forget where her duty lay. She would allow herself the luxury of one more heavenly kiss before reality intruded and they had to leave paradise for good.
* * *
Slightly sunburned, although no worse for wear, the tired but happy Newroths returned to the ship after a day of snorkeling, sight-seeing, parasailing and shopping.
Arm in arm, they teased each other and laughed companionably as they strolled up the gangway under the scrutiny of one livid Roxanne Delmonico.
“Looks like Tyler and his bride had a good day,” Uncle Denny commented as he handed his niece the drink she’d requested. Settling into the deck chair next to hers, he smiled fondly at the affectionate couple as they boarded the ship.
Roxanne’s affected smile could not hide the malice in her voice. “Aren’t they cute?” she burbled, sarcasm dripping.
Shooting her a puzzled look, Uncle Denny responded, “I think it’s great to see two people so much in love.” He reached over and clasped her hand. “Why, I’d be tickled pink to see you meet some wonderful guy and settle down, honey. That way I could stop worrying about you.”
“No need to worry, Uncle D.” Roxanne’s gaze latched on to Tyler as he walked with Emily to their cabin. “I have no doubt that I will get him. And sooner than you might think.”
“Well...good.” He eyed her uncertainly. “Good.”
* * *
Another romantic evening of dancing at the Falling Star Dining Room wrapped in Ty’s firm hold, and Emily began to suspect she was in even more trouble than she’d previously thought. But after spending Friday morning poking around all the tourist traps that Cabo de San Lucas had to offer, she
knew
she was in trouble. Serious trouble.
No credit-card commercial could do justice to the last two wonderful days that she and Ty were able to enjoy alone together. It was an enchanting paradise made for lovers, and, caught up in the magic, Emily gave herself up to the moment...and to Ty. And most unfortunately for her fragile heart, it was no longer just for show. Now the act was real, and her only saving grace was that Ty had no idea. She hoped. Although it was becoming increasingly impossible to mask her true feelings.
As she stowed the booty of trinkets into her suitcase that Ty had bought for her in Cabo de San Lucas that day, she wondered what would become of her after she left his employ. She couldn’t begin to envision a future that didn’t somehow include him. Even if it meant she had to pose as his wife for the rest of her days....
She shook her head at her ludicrous train of thought. Plugging in Ty’s travel iron, she prepared to press the Mexican peasant blouses and skirts that she’d purchased for Helga and herself to wear to the Connstarr Awards Banquet that night. Ty would be back soon from a last-minute awards banquet board meeting and he would expect them to be ready to go.
She was losing her grip on reality, she thought as she viciously attacked her blouse with the iron. That much was clear by the sense of urgency she felt regarding coming clean with Ty. It was almost as if she would explode if she didn’t bare her soul at the next possible opportunity. To heck with her study. To heck with this farce. To heck with Ty’s reaction. The time for truth, justice and the American way was now. She managed to pull the iron away from her shirt just before it burst into flames.
That did it. She would tell him now. Tonight, just before the banquet.
And before the thought had even had a chance to gel completely, she felt a wave of relief so strong it left her weak in the knees. For the first time in days, Emily relaxed.
* * *
“Ty?”
“Hmm?” he asked absently, adjusting his sombrero to lie more comfortably against his back.
Emily surveyed her appearance in the mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door and decided she’d do. Her white, cotton peasant blouse fell off her shoulders, revealing the golden tan she’d gotten from the hot Mexican sun. Flowing easily over her trim hips, the gauzy black skirt fell nearly to her ankles and was nipped in at the waist with a colorful sash. She was beginning to feel like a real
señora
—a real nervous
señora.
She had yet to tell Ty the truth. But if the clock on the wall was any indication, she had just enough time to tell him before tonight’s banquet.
“Ty, there is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”
“Sounds serious.” His mischievous eyes swept over her bare shoulders appreciatively.
She colored under his bold stare. “It is.”
“Well, come here and tell your old man all about it,” he teased. Sitting down on the couch, he patted his knee and motioned for her to have a seat.
Smiling, she advanced toward him only to be stopped by Roxanne’s shrill voice and demanding rap on the door.
“Yoo-hoo,” she called from the hallway, her pseudo-sexy voice crawling up Emily’s spine like an army of ants after a picnic basket. “I need some help.”
“Duh,” Emily muttered under her breath. Huffing in frustration, she threw up her hands and looked askance at Ty.
“Hang on,” he groaned, standing. “I’ll get rid of her.” Pausing on his way to the door, he nuzzled her neck and whispered, “Honest.”
Honest.
The word beat like a jungle drum in the back of her mind, echoing, reverberating, chanting.
Honest, honest, honest.
Her heart fluttered with an overwhelming desire to be honest with him. And if Roxanne didn’t leave soon, quite honestly, Emily just might tear her hair out.
“Hi, Roxanne.” Ty’s tone was genial as he opened the door so that his boss could come barging into the room.
“Hi,” she cooed, and spun around to present her bare back to Ty. “Do me up, will you, honey? I can’t reach.” She pouted prettily at Emily and gestured to her elaborate getup that revealed a shocking amount of her monstrous cleavage. “Like it?” Darting a glance back at Ty as he struggled, red faced, with her zipper, she smoothed the fabric over her ample curves. “It’s a Mexican wedding dress. Romantic, huh?”
It figured, Emily thought sourly, and inhaled deeply to stem the tide of frustration that gripped her by the throat. It’s true-confession time, and what does she get? An untimely interruption by a bimbo bride with cleavage the size of Mt. Rushmore.
Oh, well. Perhaps there would be time to confess after the banquet....
“A
nd now—” Uncle Denny adjusted the microphone and beamed down from the podium at the large Connstarr banquet crowd “—I’d like to introduce the chairman of the new, West Coast Connstarr Community Service Fund.”
The balding man itched uncomfortably at his serape as his eyes searched the darkened room.
“Each of Connstarr’s regional headquarters appoints a chairperson to define a charitable need specific to that area. Once that need has been assessed in a particular region, an endowment, funded by Connstarr, is made available to that community.” Uncle Denny smiled broadly and dragged a meaty hand across his balding pate.
“It’s getting late. So without further ado, I’d like to announce that the new West Coast division has chosen homelessness as its cause, and heading that committee—” his twinkling eyes landed on Ty “—Tyler Newroth!”
A hearty round of applause followed Tyler as he bounded up to the microphone. Emily watched him come into the bright circle of the spotlight and greet the audience, her mouth falling slack with wonder. Tyler was in charge of a committee to help the homeless? Since when? she wondered, her pulse roaring louder than the crowd. Helga glanced over at her with an arched eyebrow, unable to gruffly mask the delight she felt at this announcement.
Tyler’s deep, warm voice filled the auditorium, sending a warm, tingling glow throughout her body. He believed in her cause! Enough to chair a committee and direct a large endowment to this particular project. A feeling of love, so bittersweet it hurt her heart, washed over her, threatening the last shred of her composure. He was so wonderful.
“The homeless?” Roxanne’s snide whisper came from across the table and broke through Emily’s reverie as Tyler covered the less interesting details of the endowment plan. “I can help the homeless with just three little words. Get a job,” she said, sneering, and the people seated next to her chuckled in amusement.
“Yeah,” the man on her right confided. “I don’t know why we insist on funding laziness. It’s just throwing good money after bad. Now, I’ve got a little investment plan that would more than double that endowment....” he murmured to Roxanne, his eyes gleaming.
“But is it legal?” Roxanne snickered.
“Who cares? I mean, come on. You’re telling me the moral fiber of the bums we’re handing this money to is any better?” he snorted, and took a long pull on his beer.
“Yeah, I see what you mean.” Roxanne nodded, garnering an acid look from Helga.
Oblivious to the way her favored employee’s mother was shaking with rage, Roxanne and her crony continued their conversation, amusing each other with off-color jokes and disparaging remarks about the homeless.
Emily’s heart contracted painfully as she watched the older woman listening to the thoughtless remarks of Tyler’s boss. Reaching over, she drew Helga’s hand into her own and squeezed. “Don’t listen to them, honey. They’re not worth the effort. Listen to what Ty is saying instead,” she encouraged, wanting to comfort Helga, strangle Roxanne and kiss Tyler all at the same time.
Her blood thrilled through her veins as Tyler’s gaze settled warmly on her from where he stood in the spotlight up at the podium.
“I have a very special personal interest in seeing this money go to work for the homeless people in our community,” he said, sending intimate jolts of joy to Emily’s soul. “Having come to know and care very dearly for several people who—by circumstances beyond their control—have found themselves in this predicament, I can tell you that the cause is worthy. And by giving to them, we receive a rich and rewarding gift ourselves. The gift of knowing that in some small way, we helped. Helped people who can eventually give of themselves, of their experience and—of their hearts.”
Ty’s face, brimming with true emotion, was at that moment the most beautiful face in the world to Emily. Their eyes gripped and held from across the large room, and she felt her spirit literally soar above the loudly appreciative crowd with happiness.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling down at the enthusiastic throng. “Thank you all, because I know with your hard work, this project will be a success.”
Roxanne, and the man she’d been yucking it up with, guffawed. “Yeah, right,” they muttered, earning grins from several of their groupies seated nearby.
“And,” Tyler continued, in summation, “I’d like to thank my lovely wife and charming mother, who are here with me tonight, for being the inspiration I needed to get this project moving in the right direction. Thank you.” He nodded and, gathering up his notes, prepared to leave the podium.
As the audience applauded, Helga threaded her way up to the podium and nudged a startled Tyler out of the way.
Looking puzzled but pleased, Uncle Denny shrugged and nodded at Ty, who lifted his hands in a helpless gesture that seemed to say,
I have no idea what she’s up to.
“Pipe down.” Helga bristled and pulled the microphone down toward her mouth, squinting out into the bright stage lights. “As Tyler’s mom, I’d like to impose on all of you for a moment of your time.”
Her strong voice resonated from the speakers mounted up near the ceiling as she pulled herself up to her full height. Shoulders square, head held high, she took a deep breath and began to speak.
“I know,” she said, her words echoing throughout the hushed auditorium, “that there are those of you—” she stared pointedly in Roxanne’s direction “—that think homelessness is a sign of laziness.”
The room had become so silent, a gnat landing on the podium could have been heard in the back row. “That homelessness means lack of a solid work ethic... Lack of decency...” Her lower lip trembled and her voice shook. “Lack—” she angrily spit the words “—of moral fiber.”
Pausing, her gaze swept regally across the room. “Nothing—” her voice softened and her chin tipped up in defiance “—could be further from the truth.”
Ty moved to stand imperceptibly closer to the woman who’d portrayed his mother this past week, and lent his arm to her for support. Emily rapidly blinked away the tears that brimmed in her eyes as she watched Helga reach out for, and take, his strength. Suddenly she felt a love and pride so fierce for her makeshift family, she feared her heart would burst.
“I put this to you,” Helga continued, “as you sit there with your full bellies, your warm beds waiting, your family and friends caring for you.... What if you were to lose your family, your job?” Shaking with passion, she leaned forward and the audience shifted uncomfortably at the thought. “Your home?”
“It happens. Every day. One good-size earthquake and it could be you. Hundreds and thousands of good citizens across this nation are abandoned by society, by the opinion that homelessness is caused by lazy, amoral behavior.” She shrugged lightly. “In many cases, I’m sure it is. But, in many more, it’s not.”
Suddenly seeming to realize where she was, and what she was doing, Helga wilted slightly and smiled up at Ty, who was now practically holding her upright.
“Thanks to the efforts of good men like Denny Delmonico.” She grinned over at Denny, who nodded from the wings. “And Tyler Newroth, my son—” tears glistened in her eyes as she gazed up at him “—together we can help put an end to some of this pain and suffering. I know, from personal experience, that there are people out there who will thank you all from the bottom of their hearts.”
Exhausted, Helga sagged against Ty, who, amid a deafening cacophony of support, led his dewy-eyed mother to her seat.
* * *
“What are you writing about?” Ty peered over his sunglasses at Emily as she scratched away in her infernal notebook. They were at sea today, skimming rapidly across the ocean, plunging neatly through the waves on their way home.
Tomorrow they would arrive in San Diego, then a quick trip to L.A. and Tyler would no longer need their services, she thought morosely, setting her journal and pen down under the deck chair she occupied by the pool. And, as of yet, she still hadn’t had the opportunity to tell Ty the truth. Time was slipping away. Fidgeting nervously, she glanced across the pool at Roxanne, who she could tell was covertly studying them from behind her sunglasses.
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” she answered evasively. “Mostly about last night.”
“Last night?” he asked, grinning as he reached under her chair for her journal. “Anything about me in there?”
Smacking his hand, she shoved her precious notes farther under her chair. This was not the way she wanted him to find out about her study. “Maybe.” She grinned back, knowing he was referring to the passionate performance he put on with her for Roxanne’s benefit last night as he swept her into his room. As soon as they’d heard her door slam angrily shut, Ty had pushed her quickly into the hall, muttering something about the end of his endurance and if she didn’t leave now, he might just lose his mind. Puzzled and somewhat hurt, Emily had scurried to her own room and slipped into bed beside Carmen, where she’d tossed and turned half the night in frustration. Frustrated because she had wanted to tell Ty the truth so badly that night, and frustrated because she had wanted Ty so badly—that night.
The Boston Connstarr crowd ambled up just then, interrupting her woolgathering, and invited them to happy hour in the Fiesta Olé! Lounge—once again keeping Emily from confiding in Ty. Drawing a deep breath of fresh ocean air, she smiled bravely and, gathering up her towel and sunglasses, left with Ty and the gang under the ever present, watchful eye of Roxanne.
* * *
Emily was down in her room, spending some time with Carmen and Helga as Ty lathered up his face and prepared to shave for dinner that evening. It was their last night on the cruise and, for Ty, perhaps the most important night of his life. He wasn’t sure when it had hit him, exactly, except for the feeling of panic that consumed him every time he thought about losing Emily, but—he finally had to admit—he’d fallen in love. He was massively, beyond a shadow of a doubt, deeply in love with a woman whose last name he didn’t even know.
And it scared the hell out of him.
What on earth was he doing? he wondered, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His jaw clenched in annoyance at these petty doubts. Big deal. Couldn’t be any crazier than any of the other stunts he’d pulled since moving to California. Not any crazier perhaps, but much more serious as far as the impact on his future went. But, what the hell. His motto had always been Take The Ball And Run. So that’s what he’d do here.
Excited beyond any elation he’d ever felt before, Ty proceeded to tear up his face with the razor. Nicking his chin and neck so often he feared he’d need stitches, he pulled in a deep, steadying breath to calm his raging heart.
For tonight, under the star-filled Pacific sky, Tyler Newroth intended to ask Emily Whatever to become his wife. For real this time.
* * *
“Where’s Mom?” Ty now referred to Helga as his mother so naturally, Emily doubted that even he remembered that they were not related.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, glancing across the dinner table at Uncle Denny and Roxanne as they were seated. “She probably went to powder her nose. I have to use the...facility anyway, so I’ll keep an eye out for her,” she confided in a wifely undertone, and reached for her clutch purse. “I won’t be but a moment.”
Standing, Tyler assisted her with her chair, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Hurry back,” he murmured, a look of intense possession smoldering in his eyes.
Wishing that his look meant business, instead of a phony show for his employers, Emily felt her cheeks pinken. “I...w-will,” she stammered, aware that Roxanne was reaching for her own gargantuan purse.
“If you’re headed to the ladies’ room, I’ll just join you,” Roxanne announced with the smugness of a buzzard stalking a wounded animal.
Having little choice in the matter, Emily led the way through the crowded dining room. Once they reached the elegantly appointed ladies’ room, Emily stopped at the sink to check her makeup and wash her hands while she waited for the line to clear.
Roxanne, never having been one to adhere to the theory that Americans want and need their space, sidled up next to Emily and tossed her magnificent suitcaselike purse onto the counter. Rummaging around inside its impressive depths, she tossed enough cosmetics on the tiled surface to open a department store, and finally found what she was looking for.
“Oh,
Mrs. Newroth,
” she purred, and dangled a dilapidated spiral-bound binder from her brightly painted fingertips. “Have you been looking for something?”
“My journal,” Emily said flatly as the blood drained from her face. Looking up into Roxanne’s shrewd eyes, she could tell without asking that the woman had read every last incriminating word.
Damn it!
She clutched her hands tightly to her sides to keep from slapping the huge-haired hussy silly. Searching her mind, she tried to remember where she’d last seen it. She must have left it by the pool this afternoon.
“Yes.” Roxanne’s eyes were two evil slits as she leaned even closer and lowered her voice. “And just a little advice, if you don’t mind,” she said, her voice silky as milk chocolate. “Keep an eye on that thing. You don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands, now, do you? Why, your husband would be shocked by what you’ve written in there, wouldn’t he? Does he know you’re pretending to be homeless for a class project? How about Mama? Does she know? And the nerve, trying to pass yourselves off as his family. How revolting.”
Emily tried to swallow past the whirling dust bowl in her throat.
“Why—” Roxanne pursed her sticky lips as she applied another thick, garish coat of her neon lipstick “—something like that could get him fired.” She cocked her head and studied Emily in the mirror. “You know what? I think it just might.” Smiling at the younger woman’s horrified expression, Roxanne went in for the kill. “In fact,” she said as if just deciding, “it
will
get him fired.”
“No,” Emily breathed, grabbing at the countertop to keep her knees from buckling. No. Not after all the hard work he’d done for Connstarr. Not after all he’d done for them. This couldn’t be happening.