Marrying Cade (4 page)

One of the drivers approached in the darkness. She quickly stepped back, swiping a hand over her lips as if to obliterate the evidence of his kiss.

“What is it?” Her voice shook, and she couldn’t even remember the driver’s name. She could barely remember her own, truth be told.

“One of the drivers…Benito.” The driver walked closer, raising his hands in apology. “He’s drunk.”

Melo bit back the curse that automatically threatened to escape. There was no point in berating the driver about it. She hated people who shot the messenger. She rubbed her eyes wearily. Eighty guests to ferry back to the Fiori Hotel. And only three drivers. It meant they would all have to do double shifts. No, dammit, it meant she would have to do three.

Cade stepped out of the shadows. “I can do it.”

She felt her jaw gape open. “You? But you’re a guest…” Her family was very strong on protocol, everyone was supposed to be enjoying the party, not worrying about how to get the party guests home.

“And you, Melo? Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the party too?” He traced warm fingers down her arm, sending a flurry of goose bumps over her entire body. “Give me the keys.” It wasn’t a request; it was a command. “I told you I’d be keeping you company, I haven’t drunk a thing all night.” Warm lips trailed over her cheek. “I want to help. Let me.”

Chapter Four

“Melo? Where’s my bikini?”

Melo forced her eyelids open as her whirlwind of a sister rushed in and pulled open the curtains. She glanced at the alarm clock. Seven thirty. Four whole hours since she crawled into bed. She groaned. “Rosa, we don’t need to get ready for a couple of hours…”

“Come on, Melo!” Rosa tugged at her arm. “I want to find my bikini and get my bag ready for the boat.” She planted her hands on her hips, a mutinous expression darkening her expression.

Melo sighed, and sat up in bed. There was no talking to her sister in this mood. She climbed out, and shoved her feet into her slippers. “Where did you leave it?”

When Rosa had returned from the shopping trip in Florence, she’d dumped her purchases in a mound in the corner of Melo’s room. Now she fell on them like a starving lioness bringing down a gazelle.

“There it is!” Rosa raised a bag high. She rushed to the bed, and uploaded its contents on the warm gold cover, hands scrabbling. A hot pink, barely-there bikini dangled from her fingertips. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Only Rosa would have the confidence to bare her curves in such an incendiary garment. “Yeah, gorgeous.”

Melo’s throat was parched. She stripped and quickly pulled on her jeans and T-shirt. There was no way she was sitting here admiring Rosa’s purchases a moment longer. Not without coffee.

“I got a great kaftan, too.” Rosa waved a pink and gold fragment in the air. “Thanks, Melo.”

Like a demanding toddler, Rosa was all sunny smiles now she got what she wanted. She snatched up an armful and headed for the door.

“Hey, you forgot something.” A couple of scraps of something white lay on Melo’s bed. She picked them up, fingers sliding over the smooth fabric.

“That’s for you.” Rosa grinned. “And before you ask, no, I haven’t seen your black Speedo anywhere. You’ll have to wear it.” She trounced out of the door in a flurry of bouncing blonde curls.

“Rosa?” Melo raced across the room to her chest of drawers. Tugging the top one open, she groaned in frustration as her fingers searched frantically for her all-encompassing black one-piece. It was true. Rosa’d nicked it. She ran shaking fingers through her hair. The plan was to get Cade’s attention, and in the miniscule scraps of white that was a given. The question was, did she have the nerve?

****

“The coach is picking us up from the hotel.” Rosa smothered her croissant with raspberry jam. “Then we’re off to the boat for the sail around the island. I’m so excited; everything is going to be
perfect
.”

“And you’ve organized lunch on board, Melo?” Mary questioned.

“Yes, Mum. Everything is ready.” Melo gulped a mouthful of coffee and dragged in an uneven breath.
Crunch time
. There was no way she could make the trip. She’d promised her father to sit and work through the figures as soon as she could. “I’ve decided to stay here.”

Rosa’s cup clattered into her saucer. “What?” She pinned Melo with a glare. “But you’re the bridesmaid. You’re supposed to do everything with me. What will everyone think?”

Melo glanced at her mother, praying she’d take the bait. “They’ll understand. If I stay to keep an eye on Papa, Mum can go. You’d like to go wouldn’t you, Mum?”

Rosa tossed her hair back from her face, and stuck her bottom lip out in a pout.

“Mum’s coming anyway. And Papa will be fine. He has the doctor and his nurse looking after him, he won’t even realize we’ve gone.”

Mary cleared her throat. “I’d feel much happier if one of us stayed, darling.” Her fingers playing with the handle of her china cup and she raised her bright blue gaze to her daughter. “I feel guilty going, I’ll stay.”

“Oh, Mum! You can’t!” Rosa wasn’t above wailing when she didn’t get what she wanted, and she was in full pampered-princess mode.

The pulse in Melo’s jaw twitched.
Give me strength.
She patted her mother’s hand.

“You go, Mum.”

A silent burst of communication flashed between them.

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“I am.” Melo drained her coffee and stood up. “I’ll see you later.”

****

“Ciao, Cade. Thanks for coming.”

Marco lounged on a worn wicker sun bed, propped up with cushions covered in faded red brocade. A huge sun umbrella shaded him from the blazing sunshine, and a woolen blanket swathed his legs. He gestured to an empty wicker chair next to the small, mosaic-topped table. “Sit. Please.”

The housekeeper bustled out of the open glass doors with a tray of freshly squeezed lemonade with a small plate of biscotti. Marco thanked her, and stayed silent until she disappeared from view. “I’m glad we have this chance to talk in private.”

Cade brought the frosted glass to his lips and drank deeply of the frigid liquid. His tongue puckered at the sharp lemony taste, and he bit into a biscotti to dilute the sensation. The flavor of almonds and lemon was a great combination.

“I have been watching your progress, over the past decade. You’ve done well.” Marco crunched the crisp almond biscuit with his teeth, and chewed noisily. “How many hotels do you have now?”

“Seven. The American and Canadian hotels, one in Wales, and in a couple of months I’m opening my latest in Scotland.” The West Hotel Group was a force to be reckoned with, but Cade’s ambitions were a long way from being recognized.

“Nothing in Italy?”

Cade watched Marco carefully. What was the old guy getting at? “Not yet.”

“As you know, Cade, Isola dei Fiori is a very simple place. But very beautiful. I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of you siting a hotel here.”

Shock thundered through Cade like a freight train. Sure, he’d had his suspicions, but he never thought he’d see the day Marco would suggest development on the island. The entire family had always seemed so determined to keep it just as it had always been—private and unspoiled.

Cade pushed his hair back from his face. Sipped his lemonade. Kept his voice even, and his face impassive. “Whereabouts, exactly?” he asked.

Marco’s alert eyes captured his.

Cade’s mouth dried. It was like being interviewed for a job, something he hadn’t experienced for years. Not since the days when he’d desperately needed one, after his father’s death when they’d lost their home and his family had to scrimp and save to get by.

The old man’s voice was a strained whisper. “Do you remember Paradise Beach?”

How could he forget? He’d spent every day of his holiday on the deserted white sands with Melo, Adam, and Rosa for company. Walking in the cool water, as brightly colored tiny fish darted around his ankles, like shimmering sunlight beneath the waves. The clear azure water flowed over soft white sand, and they’d eaten picnics in the shelter of the dunes. It was a private haven, a little piece of heaven. And even though the site was perfect for a hotel, something clenched in Cade’s chest at the thought of exploiting it.

“I remember it, Marco,” Cade said, wanting to hear more of the old man’s plans.

“I have decided to sell it. For a hotel.” Marco’s mouth thinned. “I thought perhaps you…”

“It’s very beautiful…”

“I have decided to sell immediately. If you’re not interested, I will have to sell to Felix Mezzuti. He’s shown interest in building on the island in the past.”

Felix Mezzuti?
Cade felt his eyes widen. He’d never met the infamous developer, but the man’s reputation as a ruthless businessman preceded him. He’d been involved in a development in Rome where he’d callously destroyed a lake in order to build a hotel that was much too big for the small community surrounding it. When business hadn’t been up to his expectations he’d closed it, leaving a damaged ecosystem in his wake. He couldn’t possibly be allowed to develop on Isola dei Fiori.

“Mezzuti might not be the best choice,” Cade said. “He would build a large hotel, perhaps not in keeping with the needs of the island. And they are weakened as a company after their recent attempt to diversify into apartment buildings. I fear they would default on payment.”

Marco paled and changed the subject abruptly. “But you, Cade. What would you build?”

Cade thought for a moment, a picture coming to life in his mind.

“The island is close to Italy. Guests can be ferried out to the island, or arrive by helicopter. The charms of the island will appeal only to an exclusive clientele. One with money.”

The current hotel was primitive and basic. He’d gotten a good feel for it when he checked in. It was pleasant, sure. But it lacked the comforts of life the rich traveler would consider essential. Like air conditioning, twenty-four hour room service, and a fleet of drivers available round the clock to ferry guests wherever they wanted to go. All Cade’s hotels had Michelin starred restaurants.

“I have concerns about Mezzuti,” Marco admitted, interweaving his hands on top of the blanket. “The island is unspoiled, traditional. My family has lived here for generations.” He gazed out at the sea as the sea breeze lifted his white hair, like ruffling the feathers of an eagle in flight. “And family should be the most important factor.”

“I agree.”

Making sure his family was secure drove every business decision Cade made. Money was the answer to everything. His mother and sisters would never need for anything ever again. Their security was his responsibility. He didn’t see them often, what with the pressures of business, but they emailed regularly, which in Cade’s mind was the best option.

Marco’s gaze pinned Cade’s. “I must sell. If not to you, to Mezzuti. And soon after the wedding.”

“Can you tell me why?” Cade asked.

“Financial concerns.” Marco’s lips flattened into a thin line. “Family matters.” He turned away and swallowed a mouthful of lemonade, effectively ending the conversation.

“And Adam?” His best friend was joining the business. Surely he needed to know about these financial concerns.

“Adam is a good boy. He will be an asset to The Bellucci Winery. However, these matters do not concern him. I must ask you to keep our discussions private, Cade.”

The older man looked tired. Tired and beat.

“The only person who is aware of the financial issues is Melo. I have mentioned the possibility we might sell some land, but I haven’t told her I intended talking to you about it.” Marco’s eyes flicked to Cade’s again. Pinned him with their dark intensity. “I must ask you not to discuss it with her. As her father, that it my responsibility.”

Cade nodded.

Marco’s eyes closed, and his forehead creased in a frown. “I must rest. Can you please tell the doctor I need to go back inside?” His face paled, making the black smudge of shadow under his eyes stand out in stark contrast. A pinched smile stretched his mouth. “There are swimming costumes in the changing huts next to the pool. Why don’t you take advantage of one and go for a swim? This heat…” Marco waved a hand weakly in the air.

“I will, Marco. Thank you. I’ll fetch the doctor.”

Cade rose to his feet and strode into the house. He couldn’t let Marco sell to Mezzuti. But how could he justify buying a beach and not building on it?

****

Melo ran her fingers through the swathe of hair that tumbled down her back and groaned aloud. The figures confirmed her father’s bleak analysis, and figures didn’t lie.
Ever
. She shoved the chair back, and strode on stiff legs to the window. Disappointment warred through her, clenching at her innards, and roiling her stomach contents. How could Papa have been so stupid?

Adam had spent weeks evaluating the future requirements of the business and, on the basis of his report, the winery had ordered vitally needed new equipment. Someone had to break the news that they couldn’t pay for it all.

Melo rubbed at her throbbing temples. She was pretty sure she knew who that poor sucker would be, too.

The golden sun’s rays beat off the glimmering mica-shot gravel outside the window. Calling to her. Marco was inside, resting. The sound of the doctor’s deep tones as he helped his charge inside earlier had drifted in from the corridor. The villa was deserted, with everyone out on the boat tour of the island. And the silken water of the swimming pool lured like a seductive siren’s song. She left the nightmare behind, and climbed upstairs to slip into the white bikini.

Silken water glittered enticingly, little sliver sparks reflecting off its smooth surface. All was silent, but for the familiar sound of cicadas, and the song of a bird, circling high above. Melo tossed her robe onto the lounger and strode toward the pool, leaning to trail a hand in the clear water. It was cool, inviting. Just what her body yearned for after the hours spent locked away with the paperwork. She pulled in a deep breath, and dived in.

The water enveloped her in its cool grip, and her arms moved smoothly, propelling her under the surface. When her lungs protested the lack of air, she broke surface. Even though it had been months since she’d swum, she could still cover half the pool’s length in a single lungful of air. She flipped onto her back, staring up at the sky and letting her mind go blank as she floated.

Her mind drifted back to the previous evening. And Cade. He’d effortlessly stepped in when the driver had been unable to fulfill his obligations, and without his help she wouldn’t have gotten any sleep at all. Her lips tingled, remembering the feel of his. It had been hectic, once everyone wanted to leave. A constant stream of guests to be ferried down the hill toward the hotel. They’d been separated, but she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him.

Later tonight there was the party in the old Palazzo on the hill. The owner Signora Bettina was Rosa’s godmother and had graciously offered to host a dance in her ballroom. She’d even refused all offers of help, stating her butler and well-trained staff had it all under control. All Melo had to do was look gorgeous, and the teal ball gown she’d spent a month’s salary on in Florence did that for her.

“Hi, Melo.”

Her stomach muscles crumpled, and she jackknifed, arms wind milling wildly. Her mouth opened in a surprised O as she sank under the surface. She swallowed a gutful and emerged spluttering.

Cade stood on the pool’s edge. At the sight of the acres of smooth golden skin on display, her heart stuttered and stopped. Those had to be the tiniest swimming trunks, ever. She’d always had him down as a board shorts kind of guy, but the black trunks, slung low on sculpted hips, were a definite improvement. She cleared her throat, and forced her gaze upwards. Across his flat stomach, and the impressive clutch of muscles. To his chest, and the incredible expanse of wide shoulders.