Mediterranean Men & Marriage. Raye Morgan
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“Leila!” Of course. Why hadn’t he realized it? “That’s who that was.”
“You didn’t know?” She gave him a look.
“No. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is.” Shayna felt her jaw tightening, stopped, and laughed at herself. That reaction was so typically female. Every time another woman got a compliment didn’t mean that she was suddenly in competition with you, she reminded herself. In many ways, that seemed like a holdover from her old life that she had to get rid of.
They strolled over toward the entertainment and watched the beautiful Tahitian dancers churning their hips. The action was fun and the music was wild, and everyone seemed to be having a heck of a time. But Marco wasn’t getting anywhere. He wanted to get back to the reason they were here.
“Is there anyone I should be talking to that I haven’t?” he asked Shayna, getting a little impatient with it all.
“Elmo,” she said. “He’s the one giving the party, after all.”
“Okay. And how is he connected? What might he have seen?”
She twisted her mouth, thinking back. “He took you out fishing one day while you were here before. You came back fairly inebriated but without any fish at all.” She fixed him with a schoolmarmish look. “But you seemed to have had a good time.”
“So I guess his boat was of the inboard motor variety?” Marco noted.
“Yes. All rigged up for deep sea fishing. But I had the impression you two mainly sat around drinking beer and telling each other stories about fishing glories of the past. Though I could be wrong.” She put her nose in the air, teasing him. “You never know.”
He wanted to kiss her when she teased him like that. But he had to keep his focus. “Lead me to him,” he said instead, feeling a bit regretful but doing what was necessary. “Let’s see what the man knows.”
Elmo was a big, gruff Danish bear of a man who’d come to the islands as a teenager and stayed for good. He’d done well as a home builder for the high end trade that had developed over the last ten years or so, wiping out his previous image as a beach bum. And he loved to give parties.
He remembered Marco fondly and there was a lot of backslapping and loud joking about beer and large fish that got away. But when Marco tried to pin him down on remembering anything about his portfolio, he drew a blank.
“I remember you jotting down information now and then,” he admitted. “But I never really paid much attention.”
Another dead end. Elmo was called away, and Marco found Leila at his side again with a new plate of appetizers.
“Pigs in blankets,” she whispered to him. “I bet they’re your favorites.”
They were. He took two.
“I hope Jilly and Eddie haven’t been driving you crazy,” she said before heading off. “I haven’t been home much in the last few days so I haven’t been able to keep as close an eye on them as I usually would.”
“They’re fine,” he said. “They’re beautiful children.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said, and seemed to mean it. “They’re so good, too. They’re home right now and Jilly is fixing them tacos for dinner.” She had a faraway look in her eyes, as though she wished she were there with them. “I hope this party doesn’t last too long,” she murmured, more to herself than to Marco.
There was a veil of secret sorrow about this woman and he couldn’t help but be intrigued. She looked so spunky, yet vulnerable, that it made him want to do something for her.
“Leila, I was sorry to hear about your husband.”
“Yes.” Her dark eyes flashed his way. “He disappeared out by Sangria Island.”
“No sign of him?”
She hesitated. “Well, they searched Sangria and those two little islands right close. Then I told them about the island where he used to go with his dad as a kid, Grigos, and they said they searched it, but…” She scrunched her face tightly for a second or two. “You know, I don’t think they searched enough. That’s why I’m trying to make some extra money so I can charter a boat and go out there and look for myself.”
Yes, she certainly did have spunk. He nodded approvingly.
“Hey, Leila, good for you. Even if you don’t find anything, you’ll feel better because you’ll be sure.”
She nodded. “You know, Mr. Smith—”
“Call me Marco.”
Her smile was a little shaky. “Okay. Marco.” She sighed, her gaze wandering nervously. “I know people have probably told you that Tony had a girlfriend and he might have jumped ship to…to go be with her,” she said, her voice breaking. “But that’s not true. Yes, he is very handsome, and yes, he has always had an eye for the ladies.” She turned her eyes back to meet his, and he could see that they were shimmering with unshed tears. “But what people don’t understand is, he loves me and he loves the kids, and there is no way he would leave us. Not ever.”
She gazed up into his face beseechingly, as though he could do something about this, and he was at a loss.
“I…I’m sure he’ll turn up,” he said unconvincingly.
She gave him a tight smile and turned her attention away as she melted into the crowd again. He watched her go, his heart breaking for her. He knew his answer hadn’t done anything to satisfy her or make her feel better in any way. He’d never felt more inadequate. If only he could think of something…
Evening turned into night. The sunset had come and gone. And suddenly, he remembered Eddie. He went looking for Shayna and finally found her near the koi pond.
Shayna had been mixing freely, talking to so many people that it took her aback to realize how many friends she’d made in the little less than a year she’d lived here. Everyone treated her like an old-timer. The cliques and backbiting she’d known in her milieu at home weren’t apparent here. She felt good about that. She felt a part of things. Best of all, she didn’t get the sense that she had to do something to excite the crowd and justify her existence as she’d felt for most of her life before she came here. People accepted her for who she was. No circus tricks.
Of course, things weren’t perfect. There was the occasional jealous woman who acted as if she had to protect her man from cheating bait such as Shayna. And there was the occasional lecherous man who thought he could talk his way into gaining a few sexual favors. But she’d learned how to deal with problem people over the years and that sort of thing had pretty much died down since the first six months she’d been here.
She was happy here on Ranai. She was whole. The only thing missing was a man of her own. And a child. But she was pretty sure she’d taken care of that last request—thanks to the original Marco, the one she’d fallen for weeks ago. The trouble was, she was getting the two Marcos mixed up. They were blending together in her mind. And that was just too dangerous.
The reality was, she adored both of them. And even more reality—she was pregnant. If only she could tell him. If only he would be happy about it, as a father should be. She could close her eyes and pretend, but fantasy did not become her. She was going to have a baby, and she was going to have this baby alone. Had she really faced this yet? She was afraid the truth would overwhelm her if she let herself think about the gravity of the situation.
She was walking out toward the terrace when Marco caught up to her. She’d been still thinking about how she had to beware of him and how hard it was to do that. Somehow that fear, that wariness, translated into seeing her only refuge as being in his arms. Before she knew what she was doing, she found herself clinging to him, pressed tightly against his chest.
“Cara mia, what is it?” he said,