There was only the sound of the car’s radio filling the Porsche’s interior as Cameron and Maria made the return trip to Manhattan. They had left Sag Harbor at nine-fifteen, and had made it across the Triborough Bridge at eleven. It was exactly eleven-fifteen when he found a parking space near Maria’s building.
It had taken Cameron two hours to conclude that he loved her enough to shed whatever pride he had to let her know the depths of his feelings. Shutting off the ignition, he got out of the car and came around to the passenger’s side to help her out. Extending his hand, he caught hers, holding it for several seconds before pulling her to her feet. Curving a protective arm around her tiny waist, he led her to her building, waiting until she opened the door to the lobby. They still did not exchange a word as they rode the elevator to the twentieth floor.
Maria slipped a key in the lock to her apartment, stopping before she turned it. “I want to thank you for a lovely weekend.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She completed the motion, turning the key and pushing open the door.
Cameron braced an arm over her head, stopping her from entering the apartment. “I love you, Maria,” he stated with a staid calmness that chilled her to the bone. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved any woman.”
Maria did not move, nor did she turn around. She did not trust herself or her legs. Closing her eyes, she waited. And when she opened them, Cameron had removed his arm and had disappeared into the elevator.
You’ve lost him, a silent voice chided her.
* * *
Maria lost track of time, reacting to stimuli that she was familiar with. She made it through the weekend without wallowing in self-pity or giving in to tears. She woke up Monday morning, showered, dressed, then headed for her brother’s travel agency, and it wasn’t until she walked through the door and into his air-conditioned office that she realized she was repeating what she had done as a child. Whenever she was hurting, it was Rafael Parker who calmed her fears and soothed her pain.
Nine years her senior, forty-year-old Rafael Parker now counted more gray hairs on his head than black. He motioned to her to come in as he sat behind his desk, gesturing while speaking rapid Spanish.
Sitting down, she smiled at her double-talking, silver-tongued brother. He had won the distinction of travel agent of the year three consecutive years running. She stared at him, smiling, and he winked at her.
He finished with his call, removing the headset and placing it on the desk. Rising to his feet, he came around the desk, arms outstretched. “Now, to what do I owe this honor of a visit from my sister, who I’ve heard from a very reliable source has fallen in love?”
She fell against her brother’s solid body, holding on to him as if he were her lifeline. “I need to talk to you, Raffie.”
Pulling back, Rafael surveyed his sister’s darkly tanned face. A slight smile crinkled his hazel eyes. She looked good—no, better than good. She looked beautiful.
He glanced down at his watch. “Give me another ten minutes. Norma is expected in at any minute. She can cover the phones while we talk.”
As if on cue, Norma Ocasio walked in. She greeted her boss and his sister, then sat down at her desk and picked up the headset to her telephone. She nodded when Rafael told her that he was going out and would be back within half an hour.
“Have you had breakfast?” Rafael asked, heading toward a coffee shop in the middle of the block.
“No.”
“That makes two of us. We’ll discuss whatever it is you need to talk about over breakfast.”
Rafael held the door, following Maria and greeting everyone as if he were the mayor of the city. He escorted her to a booth in the rear. Within minutes a waitress sauntered over with a pot of coffee and filled two mugs with the strong brew. She waited while Rafael ordered for himself and his sister, then went to the counter to put in their selections.
Maria drank a glass of orange juice, feeling more revived than she had in hours. When she bit into a slice of buttered toast, she recalled that she hadn’t eaten any solid food since leaving Sag Harbor Saturday afternoon.
Rafael stared across the table at her, his coffee mug poised in midair. “What’s up, Maria?”
She told him everything, amazed that she could recall with such clarity everything the two women had said about her. She did not leave out Cameron’s reaction to their disparaging remarks. Her brother’s expression did not change until her voice faded away.
Shifting to his left, Rafael Parker reached for the cellular phone clipped to his waist. Punching in a button, he listened for the ringing, then a break in the connection. “Pepito, tell Markie that we have to take care of some trouble. It concerns Maria. It looks as if we have to teach Mr. Cameron King a lesson about messin’ over our sister.”
“No!” Maria screamed, reaching for the small, palm-sized telephone. She knew what her brother meant by taking care of some trouble. That meant doing bodily harm to someone, and that someone would be one Cameron King. Everyone in the coffee shop turned and stared at her. She sat back down, offering an apologetic smile.
Rafael stared at her. “Hold on, Pepito.” He placed a hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “Do you or don’t you want me to take care of this?”
“I don’t want you to beat him up,” she said in a shaky whisper. “If he deserved a butt-kicking, I think I could do a better job than any of you.”
Rafael smiled, nodding in agreement. He did not think he would ever get used to the fact that his little sister had earned a black belt in jujitsu. He and his brothers had taken her to a neighborhood movie theater to see a Bruce Lee film, and when she returned home she badgered her parents to let her take martial arts instruction. Ray and Ynez finally gave in to her whining and the year she turned nine she began taking jujitsu.
Putting the phone to his ear, he said quietly, “Forget it, Pepito. She’s all right. Of course I’m sure. I’m sitting here looking at her. I’ll call you later and fill you in on everything.” Pressing a button, he ended the call.
Vertical lines marred Rafael’s forehead. “What’s going on, sis? You come to me because you’re upset about how your boyfriend treats you, then when I want to take care of him you tell me no.”
Pressing her head against the booth’s worn back, she wagged her head. “I came to you because I needed someone to talk to. I need to know if I overreacted. I know who I am and what I can do. I don’t need the approval of anyone, and that includes Cameron King.”
There was a full minute of silence. “Do you love him, Maria?”
Closing her eyes, she smiled. “Oh, yes.”
“Does he know that?”
Her eyes opened. “No.”
“Does he love you?”
She met her brother’s direct stare. “He said he did.”
“Smart man. Cameron is not responsible for his family’s behavior any more than you’d be responsible if Pepito, Markie, and I decided to tighten your boyfriend up.”
Reaching across the table, Maria caught Rafael’s hand. “Promise me you won’t touch him.”
“Maria,” he drawled, not meeting her gaze.
Her nails dug into the tender flesh on the back of his hand. “Promise me, Rafael Parker.”
Nodding slowly, he looked over her head. “I promise. I’d hate to have to jack him up, then call him brother one of these days.” What he didn’t promise was that he wouldn’t meet with Cameron.
Her eyes darkening in pain, she shook her head. “I doubt that will ever happen.”
* * *
Cameron was somewhat surprised when the receptionist buzzed his office late Monday afternoon and informed him that a Rafael Parker wanted to meet with him.
“He doesn’t have an appointment. I asked him the nature of his business and he says he needs some help with investing some of his business income. Will you see him?”
A frown marred his smooth forehead. If his instincts were correct, then he supposed Rafael Parker had come to see him about his sister, not investments. “Send him in.”
Cameron was waiting at the door to his office when Rafael Parker made his way down the hall. Extending his right hand, he offered a professional smile. “It’s nice seeing you again.”
Rafael took the proffered hand. “Same here. Even before we begin I want to tell you that my sister knows nothing about this meeting.”
“There is such a thing as client confidentiality.” He arched an eyebrow. “Do you intend to become a client of King Financial Services?”
“I’ll let you know after we’ve talked.”
“Please come in and sit down.”
Rafael surveyed the furnishings in the large office, admiring the sophisticated opulence. Every article of furniture, each accessory appeared to be selected with the utmost care, the style harmonizing with the personality and individuality of the company’s CEO. He had to admit that Maria had chosen well.
He took a plush armchair, and to his surprise Cameron pulled over a matching chair and sat opposite him instead of retreating behind his desk.
Cameron draped a leg over his knee. “You’ve come to talk about your sister.” A slight smile curved his mouth when Rafael nodded. “Did she tell you that I love her?” Rafael nodded again. “I need your help.”
“My help?”
“Yes. You know Maria a lot better than I do. I need you to help me convince her that she should marry me.”
“Damn, bro,” Rafael mumbled under his breath. “Are you always this direct?”
Cameron’s impassive expression did not change. “When I have to be.”
“She’s very stubborn.”
“I know that firsthand,” Cameron confirmed.
Leaning forward, Rafael disclosed things about his sister that he had never told another man. He watched an expression of shock freeze Cameron King’s features. After a while the shock gave way to confidence, then laughter.
Both men laughed until they found it hard to catch their breath. Then they agreed that their ingenious plan to become brothers-in-law had to work.
* * *
Maria walked into Della’s Tuesday morning tanned and smiling. She had promised herself that no one would know that while she smiled outwardly she cried for the loss of a man who offered her everything she needed as a female.
Maurice winked at her as she walked past him. “You look marvelous, chica. I have to assume you had a wonderful weekend.”
“The best,” she lied smoothly.
“Love will do it every time.”
She checked her appointment book with the one on the front desk, penciling in appointments Ramona had set up in her absence. It promised to be a full four days.
The morning sped by quickly, and it was nearly three o’clock when the receptionist came to the rear to tell her that there was a delivery of flowers at the reception desk.
“Hey, Clark Kent is at it again,” a stylist called out when she saw the exquisite bouquet of long-stemmed red roses.
Maria plucked the card off the cellophane, a slight frown furrowing her brow. The card was plain except for the typed letter W. Shrugging her shoulders, she stared at Ramona. “Who left these?”
“The guy was the same one who left the humongous bouquet from King Financial Services. Are you going to leave them here?”
Slipping the card into the pocket of her smock, she smiled. “Enjoy them.”
Later that evening she decided not to take the roses home with her and left them on a table in the reception area. Cameron was sadly mistaken if he thought she was going to forgive him for his insensitivity just because he sent a bouquet of flowers.
Out of sight, out of mind, she told herself as she unlocked the door to her apartment. Kicking off her shoes, she went through the ritual of lighting her candles, then checked the messages on her answering machine.
There was one message—and it was from Cameron. He wanted her to call him so they could talk.
“Never,” she whispered to the machine when his deep voice ended.
* * *
The delivery of roses was the first of what was to become a daily occurrence. It began with roses, then lilies. These were followed by foxgloves and chrysanthemums. Each was accompanied by a blank card with a typed letter. She laid the cards out on her coffee table. The four letters spelled the word WILL.
Along with the delivery of flowers there were daily messages on her answering machine from Cameron. The message was always the same: “Please call me, Maria, so we can talk.”
* * *
She survived the first week, but the pattern continued the second week, and along with the delivery of flowers was the unexpected appearance of Cameron when he came into Della’s for a manicure.
Maria was glad she was sitting because she was certain her legs would not have been able to support her body when he walked over and sat down with one of the other manicurists. He did not bother to look at her as he flashed his dazzling smile for the flustered woman.
She managed to steal surreptitious glances at him as she concentrated on applying a set of linen wraps. Even though he sat more than six feet away, she could make out the sensual fragrance of his sandalwood cologne. Not seeing him for a week made her aware of his masculine beauty. The sun had darkened his skin, enhancing the deep red undertones. And she noticed for the first time a sprinkling of gray in his close-cut hair at the temples. He was impeccably attired, as usual, and she marveled that he managed to appear so unwrinkled at the end of a work day.
She’d received seven deliveries of flowers with seven cards attached, each with a single typed letter. The seven cards spelled out the words WILL YOU. Cameron had also left seven identical messages on her answering machine.
* * *
Maria sat on a chair on her terrace, staring out at the night. It had begun raining, but she did not want to go inside. She did not want to read the cryptic message the twelve cards had spelled out. She did not need the last two letters to know what Cameron wanted. And she did not have to be a bruja to know what the last two letters would be. The twelve letters spelled WILL YOU MARRY.
“Me,” she whispered to the velvet night.
Pulling her knees to her chest, she lowered her head and cried. She cried for shutting him out, and she cried for being a fool. He had sent so many flowers that everyone at Della’s had begun placing bets as to when she would fly off with her Clark Kent. It had not mattered to them that she no longer did his nails, or that when he came into the salon he did not deign to give her even a cursory glance.
She had not returned his calls and there was no reason she could offer for waiting two weeks to call him. Raising her head, she sucked in a lungful of oppressive humidity. Cameron King had thrown down the gauntlet and she would accept his challenge.
She would wait for him to send the last two letters.