Seduced by Sunday (18 page)

His gaze moved between her and Meg and back again. “Gabriella.”

She opened her arms to his stiff frame. “Darling.” His kiss was brief, much more so than the last few times he’d visited the island.

He placed his lips close to her ear. “Public displays in front of a stranger, Gabi.”

She laughed off his concern. “You remember Margaret?”

“Of course. I’m surprised to see you still here.”

“Good to see you again, too, Mr. Picano. Our visit is scheduled to last a few more days.”

“Meg wanted to see the yacht,” Gabi told him.

Alonzo attempted to smile, but Gabi could tell he wasn’t happy with the thought. “Let me give my crew time to
settle
. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“She came all the way out here—”

“I’m sure Margaret understands. Would you want to entertain in a dirty kitchen?”

Alonzo was a bit of a perfectionist. She’d not seen anything he had a part in out of place. The one time she’d sailed on the yacht the staff kept everything immaculate.

“I get it,” Meg said with a generous smile. “Another time.”

“Yes, another time,” Alonzo murmured.

“I should get back,” Meg broke the awkward moment of quiet. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Until then,” Gabi said before Meg turned and walked away.

“Dinner?”

“We’ve grown quite close in the past few days. She really is a lovely person.”

Alonzo disengaged his arm from her waist and signaled one of his staff over. “I don’t know how you can determine that in just a few days. People here tend to pretend they are what they are not.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means be careful who you trust, Gabriella.” The warning felt odd coming from him.

“She’s a friend, Alonzo. Please don’t treat her poorly.”

He lost his smile. “You have
no
friends.”

His words hurt, partly because they were true.

“I do now.”

His captain disembarked and walked to their side.

“You’re busy. I’ll see you once you’ve
settled
.” Anger she wasn’t prepared for fueled her quick steps as she walked away.

Alonzo scrambled after her and grasped her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said once she looked at him. “I’ve had a stressful week.”

So have I
, she wanted to say but didn’t. “It’s OK.”

He pulled her into his arms. It was her turn to feel stiff. The eyes of his staff watched until she noticed them, and they quickly looked away. “Public displays, Alonzo,” she tossed his words back.

He kissed the top of her forehead. “I’ll see you at the villa.”

With a tilt of her head, she walked away. It would be nice to have a friend, especially one as outgoing as Meg.

Why, after only a few days, did the other woman’s opinion count? If she wanted Meg’s approval of her fiancé, something told Gabi she wasn’t going to get it.

Mrs. Masini skipped dinner, a testimony to the company . . . or at least that’s what Meg thought.

Val invited two other couples to keep the conversation filtered, which suited Meg perfectly. The thought of bringing up any of the drama in front of Alonzo gave her gut a twist.

Mr. and Mrs. Dray were pure Texan oil. Unless they liked to play dress-up in the bedroom, the only reason they were on the island was for the sunsets and beach. Mrs. Cornwell, a wealthy widow of one of Chicago’s celebrated restaurateurs, and her longtime
friend
, Mr. Shipley, filled the seats at the round table.

Meg cringed to see wine set on the table. She really was done with the stuff after so many days.

Mrs. Dray held herself with an air of superiority that reminded Meg of every stuffy neighbor she’d passed, but never met, while living at Michael’s home. She was about to write the woman off as someone she didn’t want to know until she passed on the wine and told the waiter to bring her a bourbon.

“I think I like you,” Meg said from across the table. “Make that two.”

“I do apologize, Mr. Picano. I appreciate a nice glass with my meal, but I prefer something a little stronger before supper.”

Alonzo offered a smile that Meg could only categorize as fake and shook his head. “Not a problem, Mrs. Dray.”

“My fiancé has made me a true wine lover,” Gabi boasted.

“Fiancé?” Mrs. Cornwell asked.

“When is the wedding?” Mrs. Dray asked.

“Fall.”

“What an exciting time. Congratulations to you both.” The comments were homogenized and stale. Meg secretly wished the waiter would hurry with the whiskey.

“Is your gown strapless? So many wedding dresses are these days.”

Gabi looked at Alonzo and then to Meg. “I haven’t settled on one yet.”

Mrs. Dray and Mrs. Cornwell both dropped their smiles. “You’re marrying this fall and you haven’t chosen a dress yet?”

“That’s unheard of. My Millie had her gown six months before her wedding. It took longer to order it than she expected.”

“Then there are alterations. Lord knows how that can go wrong.”

Seemed the older women at the table had a lot to say about wedding dresses.

The waiter set Meg’s drink in front of her. “Bless you,” she whispered.

He grinned.

“You really must jump on the dress, darlin’.”

Gabi’s face had grown pale.

“I know some amazing designers in LA who work on Hollywood’s timeline of needing everything yesterday, Gabi. Maybe you can come back with us when we leave.”

The color in her friend’s face started to return.

“That’s ridiculous. There are plenty of dressmakers in South Florida,” Alonzo said.

“I like the idea of going to Los Angeles and finding the perfect dress.”

When Alonzo patted Gabi’s hand, Meg had a desire to kick him under the table. Instead, she nudged Michael and made sure he noticed the subtle gesture.

“I’m sure I can find you someone here you can trust to give you what you need.”

Before Meg could chime in, the older women did so for her. “The groom can’t see the dress before the big day.”

“Certainly not.”

Alonzo couldn’t get a word in, but he kept his hand over Gabi’s until she tugged it away to drink from her wineglass.

Michael diverted the subject. “Mr. Picano.”

Alonzo directed his attention away from Gabi.

“I have to tell you, last night we had a bottle of your 2009 merlot. It’s one of the best I’ve tasted,” he told him.

“Thank you. I’m surprised there are still bottles available. I thought that was one of the years needing replenishment.”

“There was a pallet of wine in the warehouse yesterday. I wonder if the merlot was part of those crates.”

“Wine left in a warehouse? That doesn’t sound right . . . not in this heat.” Mrs. Cornwell would know.

“They were cool, I assure you,” Gabi told the lady. “I thought maybe you’d come in early and delivered more wine. Julio seemed surprised they were there.”

Meg noticed Val’s rapt attention to the conversation.

“I’m sure your guests don’t want to hear about wine deliveries,” Alonzo said to Gabi.

“Or wedding dresses,” Mr. Dray added.

Mrs. Dray nudged him with her elbow. “We did that enough with Millie to last until the grandbabies are married.”

“I say we bully Michael into telling us about his next movie.” Ryder cut the conversation with his words and the men switched subjects.

Gabi listened without comment, her silence loud as anything Meg had ever heard. Sometime between appetizers and dinner, she stood to excuse herself to the restroom.

“I’ll join you.” Meg pushed away from the table. “I don’t remember where it is.”

The men sat back down as they walked away from the table and Gabi led the way out of the dining room.

As Meg expected, once behind the ladies’ room door, Gabi collapsed into one of the chairs and fought tears.

Meg grabbed a box of tissues from the vanity. “Don’t start that. Your makeup won’t hold up.”

Gabi grabbed a tissue and dabbed under her eyes. “He’s being awful.”

“Oh, I don’t know . . . Val’s quite charming.”

The smile Meg was reaching for never emerged from her friend. “He’s not like this.”

“Controlling, condescending, and difficult?”

“You see it, don’t you?”

Meg saw that and a whole lot more. “I think it’s important to see all sides of a person before you exchange wedding vows.”

Gabi abruptly stood and moved to the mirror. “I’m going with you to LA.” She turned. “If that’s really an invitation and not something said out of politeness.”

Meg stood beside her and adjusted Gabi’s dress. “I insist. There’s something else I want to do for you.”

“Oh?”

“One of my job descriptions is finding every minuscule part of a person’s present or past that might impede a contract between two parties.”

“You mean between Alonzo and I?”

“Marriage is a big step.”

A frown marred Gabi’s brow. “Isn’t that violating something?”

“It’s not illegal to ask around.”

“Moral?”

“I’m a Catholic Jew.
Eat the bacon! Don’t eat the bacon, it’s a sin.
I’m already morally messed up.”

Gabi finally laughed. “I’m rather fond of bacon.”

Chapter Fifteen

It killed Val to move about the night as if nothing was going on. Nothing appeared in his in-box all day; nothing arrived via mail. Dinner had been tense, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

Seemed Gabi and Margaret were getting along well enough as the evening moved from dinner to drinks at the island’s after-hours club.

Surprisingly, Alonzo retired without Gabi at his side. He noticed the two of them talking in rather heated tones outside the restaurant before Alonzo excused himself.

Instead of opening up to him, Gabi moved to Margaret’s table and sandwiched herself between the three of them. Before long, his sister’s smile returned and Michael took her to the dance floor.

Jim found Val hovering in the corner and slapped a hand to his back.

They shook hands, each of them trying to squeeze harder than the other. “I’m leaving in the morning,” Jim told him.

“When will I see you again?”

“Gabi’s wedding?” They both looked at the dance floor. “Is there still a wedding?”

Val thought of Michael Wolfe and his “friend,” who sat by watching the other man. Then Gabi started dancing with someone else.

“I’ll let you know,” Val told his friend.

Jim chuckled and walked away.

Val watched Jim tap Margaret on the shoulder and invite her to the dance floor.

He swung her out and pulled her close, whispered something in her ear.

She pushed him away, laughing, and continued to dance.

Val didn’t consider himself a jealous man, but damn it, Margaret was changing that.

They were quite the entertainment, the petite, pale blonde and the robust, dark blues singer. Seemed everyone was watching them dance, enjoying Jim’s moves and Margaret’s demure attention to her dance partner.

Val had to admit, they were engaging.

Then the song ended and Margaret did the unexpected.

She smacked a kiss right on Jim’s lips, leaving him stumbling back, holding his chest. Val was too far away to hear the exchange, but several people around them started to laugh as Jim gave her a playful smack on the ass and walked away.

Val moved in, caught her before she could leave the floor. The song was slower than the others, affording him the right to pull her against his frame. “You’re killing me,
cara
. Do you know that?”

“Jim is harmless,” she said close to his ear.

“The man has been married to five women. Dated women as young as you.”

The sway of her hips against his reminded him how much he wanted her. He sucked in a breath of control.

“I won’t be his next anything, Masini.”

He knew that. Was more secure than that. So why did he release
a breath as if he’d just broken the surface of water in need of air? “Are you really leaving on Monday?”

Their quiet dance floor conversation kept him straining to hear her words, except when he felt her breath against the lobe of his ear. That was a torture all on its own.

“And I’m taking your sister with me.”

He backed away to see if her eyes lied. “Really?”