Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (6 page)

“Be careful,” Anjelita whispered. “Women can make mistakes when they are hurting.” Her mother slid a significant glance toward Nick.

Marisa feared her mother could see the guilt written on her face. Was that why Marisa was attracted to Nick, because she’d been dumped? Well she wasn’t pursuing any kind of relationship with him. She was simply going for a walk.

“I need to change into my casual clothes,” she told Nick. “I keep a set here at the office. Would you care to have a seat and wait?”

“No problem.”

• • •

As Marisa slipped into a back room, Nick noted her mother’s stare was still on him. The woman had been crying when he’d entered the shop. He didn’t know the cause, but he tried to ease her pain.

“The clothes in your shop look handmade.”

Anjelita’s chin came up. “They should. I made them.” There was intense pride in her words.

“How long have you been making clothes?”

“Since Marisa was born.”

“Where was your shop located before?”

“I did not have a shop. I was the Easterlings’ housekeeper until they died. Then I had no work and there were no other housekeeping jobs in town. I am not too proud to clean houses — it is good, honest work — but Marisa knew I would be much happier tending my own shop. I love to sew beautiful clothes. She is a good daughter. She leased this place so I would be able to earn my living doing what I love.”

So it wasn’t just her friend that Marisa treated well. He’d been right about her character. “That was a very nice thing your daughter did for you. The Easterlings were Carolyn Wentworth’s parents?”

The light dimmed in Anjelita’s face. “Yes. It was a tragedy when they died. And now Carolyn is dead too. Another tragedy.” She crossed herself.

“I understand you helped raise Carolyn.”

“Yes, because her mother was an invalid. Carolyn wasn’t even a year older than my Marisa, so they played together always. They were as close as sisters.”

Nick wanted an opinion other than Marisa’s. “Do you believe what her husband says, that she took her own life?”

“That one.” Anjelita snorted. “If she died, it was probably to get away from him.”

“What do you mean?” He was so surprised, the question was sharper than he intended.

“Scott Wentworth is a cold bastard, forgive me for swearing. Just ask my Marisa.”

At that moment, Marisa appeared in the doorway and his mouth dried. He’d thought her a striking woman in her office clothes, but in khaki shorts and a white formfitting shirt, she was hot. She had curves in all the right places, and legs … God, she had legs. His manly parts that had been frustratingly unresponsive the past six months let him know they were alive and ready for action.

And then he spotted Marisa’s mother. It was like being doused with ice water. He reined his hormones in fast. Marisa was not a one-night-stand and she had just been dumped. Not to mention she was grieving over her friend’s recent death. Any decent, self-respecting man would understand that she was off limits to a randy mutt like him. He should be ashamed of himself.

“Are you ready?” Marisa asked.

Damn straight he was. Nick cleared his throat. “Yeah. Do you want to walk up or down the gorge?” He opened the outer door for her.

“Better make it down. I have a client later and I’d prefer not to be all sweaty.”

Nick turned away from her so she wouldn’t see the hunger on his face. He couldn’t have picked a worse time to get his mojo back. Dammit, he’d been all but dead for months. Burnout, the department shrink had said. He’d hated being forced on leave, but maybe the time off had done some good if his libido was any indication.

They drove to the upper parking lot for the Watkins Glen gorge and he retrieved his camera from the trunk.

“How long has it been since you walked the glen?” Marisa asked.

Nick had to think about it. “Three years.” The time span shocked him. “I hadn’t realized it had been so long.”

They began the descent into the gorge. “Did you use to visit regularly?”

The temperature cooled a bit as they entered the shade. “Every year since Brian moved here. We shared a dorm room at college and have been best friends ever since.”

“Like Caro and I.” Sadness filled her eyes.

“Yeah.” He rushed on so Marisa wouldn’t dwell on her friend. “After Brian moved here he told me how beautiful it was and I took my vacation here. I came every year after that.”

“But not lately.”

“No. I haven’t taken a week’s vacation in a long time. There’s always an emergency somewhere, always someone in pain who needs my help.” And here he was helping again, trying to assist Marisa with her grief.

“Your job is so stressful. You need time away to re-energize.”

“That’s why I’m here — mandatory time off for another week.” He heard the bitterness in his voice. People were dying back home without him. Well, they were dying here, too.

Marisa walked ahead of him up steps made of the dark charcoal stone to blend in naturally with the gorge. He liked the way her shorts clung to her butt as she climbed. And then the stairway turned and he glimpsed Marisa framed against the backdrop of the gorge and all its natural beauty.

He froze, breathless from the beauty of the woman and the gorge. He’d seen nothing but ugliness for months. All the color, save red, had leeched from his world, leaving only blood, death and pain. But this scene stirred something inside him and he thought he felt the ice around his frozen soul crack.

Marisa saw the lines of strain on Nick’s face soften and knew he’d been affected by the glory of the gorge. Oddly, she felt glad his burdens were eased. His story haunted her and she was sure it haunted him. No wonder he didn’t smile.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” she said.

Nick shook himself like a man coming out of a trance. “Yeah. This is perfect. Stand right there.” He raised the camera to his face.

“Oh no. You don’t want me in the photo.”

“Yes I do.” He sounded fierce.

Marisa didn’t argue further. She studied him as he adjusted the lens and the settings. He fumbled a little at first, but then his movements became fluid and he handled the camera with ease. She heard the shutter click twice.

“Light’s not the best,” he said. “Morning light is better.”

That bit of knowledge wasn’t something most casual photographers knew. How could he have given up a hobby he loved for work? Mandatory time off meant he was suffering from job burnout. She didn’t think EMTs did their job for the money, but because they cared. What must this caring man have seen and witnessed working without a vacation for three years? Her heart bled for him.

“Have you photographed other sites in this area?” she asked.

“Some. I haven’t had time before to find all the waterfalls around here. I’ve driven over to Montour Falls and taken pictures of the falls in town. And I’ve taken lots of photos of the lake.”

“I could show you around.” The words were out of her mouth before she could censor them. She didn’t know this man. But she wanted to help bring some joy into his life. And she needed to see those beautiful places for herself. Taking Nick to them would give her an excuse.

They stood in a wide section where flat ledges and towering walls bordered the river and looked down the gorge that had been carved by the water eons ago. The afternoon sun bathed the top of the eastern side and made the water sparkle.

Marisa let the beauty of the glen massage her battered soul. She soaked in the solace of a place she felt God had built. Others might be awed by the colors of the Grand Canyon, but for staggering grandeur, it had nothing on the Watkins Glen gorge.

Like many townspeople, Kevin had taken the gorge and the waterfalls for granted. He hadn’t walked the glen when he came home to visit; there had never seemed enough time. So she’d gone alone. It was the tourists like Nick who truly appreciated the sight.

Her thoughts drew her gaze to him. His face had relaxed a little. The scenery was working its magic on him too. Here was something she had in common with him. She pushed aside the problems of Carolyn and Scott and her mother. She needed time to draw breath and strength to face what was to come.

“Are you ready to go on?” Nick asked, his voice quiet.

He couldn’t know what she’d been thinking, but she nodded. There was a mile left to walk, plenty of time to recharge her spirit.

Marisa didn’t say a word when Nick stopped to photograph a swirl of water or a particularly pleasing stone staircase, or any of the rapids or falls in the gorge. He needed this as much as she did. She wondered if he would have come without her. For some reason, she thought not. She didn’t know how long he’d been in town, but he hadn’t visited the park during that time.

By the time they reached the final stone bridge and the lower parking lot, the afternoon was well advanced. Marisa had found the peace she sought. Nick seemed relaxed as well.

As they waited for the shuttle bus to transport them to the upper lot, Marisa watched the activity on Franklin Street. She’d invested in this town and she loved it here. She loved that the gorge opened onto the main road and that the town ran down to the edge of one of the Finger Lakes. She loved that wine country was right up the highway and that Watkins Glen hosted a world-class NASCAR and Indy racetrack. Tourists brought in revenue — including to her mother’s shop — yet Watkins Glen remained a small town at heart. She never wanted to leave here. And she’d do everything in her power to prevent Scott Wentworth from destroying this town.

She needed to alert the other citizens to what Scott was planning. She turned to Nick. “My office is close enough to walk from here. I want to thank you for bringing me. I really needed it.”

“I’m glad you could get away. It’s nice to find someone who knows what to do around a photographer. Was your fiancé one?”

Some of her peace bled away. She’d forgotten her problems for several hours. “No. Watkins Glen sees a lot of tourists. I’ve learned how to act around people wielding cameras.”

“I hurt you by bringing up your fiancé. I’m sorry.”

His comment confirmed what she’d suspected about him. “It’s all right. Living in a small town, I can’t avoid people asking me about him.”

“But I wanted to take you away from what hurts you.”

The shuttle bus stopped in front of them. The few other passengers filed to the door.

“You did, Nick. Give me your phone number.” He scribbled on the back of a card. “I’ll call you and let you know when I can get away for a couple of hours tomorrow.”

“I appreciate what you’re doing for me, especially now.”

“I need this as much as you do, Nick.”

Marisa didn’t watch the shuttle take Nick away. Instead, she crossed the street and entered the first tourist shop. She didn’t know the young woman behind the counter.

“Excuse me, is Henry here?”

The clerk fetched the owner. When Henry DeSoto saw Marisa, his aging face softened with sympathy. He pulled her toward the back of the shop.

His balding head made him look like a monk, but he never wanted for an escort of either sex, even though he was openly gay.

“Marisa, darling, I was so sorry to hear about you and Kevin. You were the perfect couple. And Carolyn Wentworth.” He shook his head, tsking. “I couldn’t believe it, still can’t believe it. You two were inseparable. You must be devastated.”

Tears misted Marisa’s eyes. She squeezed Henry’s arm in thanks. “It’s very hard right now. And, Henry, it’s going to get worse.” She told him about Scott’s plan to sell the salt plant.

“I didn’t like him. I rarely saw Carolyn smile when he was with her. It was one of those money-marries-money mergers. Poor Carolyn deserved better than that, but with her parents’ marriage as her example, what could you expect? She knew she had to do her duty.”

Marisa had seen firsthand the polite, civil marriage the Easterlings had, but she wouldn’t discuss Carolyn’s marriage. Her friend had been trashed enough already. “I’m going to have a memorial service for Carolyn this week. I’ll send out details as soon as I can. Will you spread the word about the salt plant and the wake?”

“Sure, hon. What are we going to do to stop the sale? He’s the majority shareholder.”

“I don’t know, but who knows who’d buy the plant and what changes they’d implement? A foreign conglomerate might even want it.”

“We can’t have that! I’ll tell everyone I see. Someone will think of something.”

“Thanks, Henry.”

They air kissed and Marisa moved on to the next shop. She spread the word down Franklin Street and knew in this small town most of the residents would know by nightfall. Everyone she spoke to was supportive. She couldn’t have loved the shop owners more and it solidified her resolve never to leave Watkins Glen.

By the time she walked in the door of her office, she felt drained but elated.

Her mother turned, her face lit with excitement. “
Mi hija
, so many people have called. They want to know if you are calling a town meeting to stop Scott from selling the plant.”

There was an idea she hadn’t thought of. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Mamá. I just started talking to shop owners on the way here.”

“I think it is a very good idea and so like you to consider the town. See how different you are than that young woman you were in high school?”

Marisa couldn’t deal with that right now. She felt raw from all the condolences she’d received. It hit her hard that after eight years as part of a couple, she was alone. She hadn’t been enough for Kevin, hadn’t been the right person.

“I’ll call the mayor before Mr. Pipoly arrives for his appointment,” Marisa said.

“Good. Maybe I should make empanadas tonight to celebrate, eh?” Anjelita kissed Marisa’s cheek.

Marisa smiled. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble, Mamá. I thought we’d go out to eat.”

“The way the phone has rung, we will not get to eat if we go out. We will spend the time planning with other people while our good food grows cold.”

“You’re right. I’ll help you cook.”

Anjelita hummed as she stitched. Marisa looked up the mayor’s number and called. The excited secretary put her through at once.