Hero For Hire

Instead of being dead.

“Here, cara,” the waitress said, setting a sandwich on the table. Then she plopped into the empty chair and grinned. “Break time for me, too. Whew, it’s hot.”

“It is only eighty degrees, Maria.”

“Yes, but this is supposed to be winter. So—” she leaned close, studying Nina carefully “—you look...off today.”

Yes, she was off. Hard to believe she could be surrounded by people all day long and still feel...lonely. But Nina had been holding people at bay all her life, never really letting anyone in, and she’d gotten good at it.

Too good.

Maybe she regretted that now, that distance, but it was a hard habit to break.

“Nina?” Maria frowned in concern. “What’s up?”

“It has been a long day, that is all.” A long day fussing with the business end of things instead of designing, as her heart craved.

“You need to get laid,” Maria decided.

Nina choked on her drink. She enjoyed Maria’s company but she’d never gotten used to her friend’s easy way of sharing absolutely everything. “I am fine.”

“You’re always fine.” Sighing lustily, ignoring the tourists at the next table who were gesturing for her attention, Maria put her feet up and leaned back. “Don’t you ever get tired of being so... fine?”

Actually, yes, Nina did get tired of it, of putting on the perfect, good-girl facade, not that she’d ever say so. After all, she’d been raised as the obedient, younger, seen-but-not-heard daughter. At twenty-six, that was a very difficult habit to break, even with the entire family business now firmly on her shoulders. “You have customers waiting.”

“Oh, please. I’m not falling for that weak change of subject. Now talk. About you,” she added pointedly. “And by the way, you know how I’m always bugging you to get a man?”

“They do not grow on trees. It is just not that easy for me.”

“It should be. You’re rich, you run a huge company, and you’re beautiful. What wouldn’t a man like?”

Exactly. It was all about money, prestige and looks, never about Nina as a person. She objected to that, and had learned to be alone instead.

She’d even learned to like it.

Mostly.

“Anyway, listen.” Maria lowered her voice. “There’s been a gorgeous guy here two days in a row, looking at you through the window of the shop.”

“Be serious.”

“I am.” Maria dropped her feet and leaned in close. “I’ll even point him out to you. He’s a few tables over as we speak, watching you very carefully.”

“Maria—”

“Shhh. He’s tall, dark and dangerous. Got a brooding edge to him, that one does. No, don’t look! Not yet. Meu Deus, he’s got a body, too, all muscle and hunger.”

Nina found herself reeled in. “What does he look like?”

“He’s wearing dark, unassuming clothes and looks like a man who knows what he wants and how to get it. Ah, and those eyes! Did I tell you about his eyes? They’re spitfire green and full of heat. Now slowly crane your neck and look off to your right. See? Look at him look at you. Magnifíco!” Maria fanned herself wildly. “Isn’t he wicked?”

Wicked didn’t begin to describe him. He was indeed all muscle and hunger and fire and heat, one-hundred percent of it directed right at Nina, who could suddenly scarcely breathe.

He was the man who’d held her gaze prisoner the day before when she’d innocently looked up and caught him watching her through the window. Her heart had thrown itself against her rib cage.

She hadn’t liked it then. She didn’t like it now either, though he had managed the one thing no one else had in days...he’d taken her mind off Terry.

“A man like that...” Maria spoke in a hushed, reverent whisper. “He knows how to satisfy a lover, no?”

Nina tried to tear her gaze away, tried to pull back, but there was something in his startling eyes that once again held her utterly captive. He didn’t blink or look away, and she found she couldn’t, either.

“Americano?” Maria wondered.

If he was indeed American, it was impossible to tell. Not all drop-dead gorgeous men were American. His sun-bleached brown hair and brilliant green eyes could have come from anywhere. His clothes were nondescript, yet emphasized his long, sculpted frame. His face, tanned and rugged and sporting at least a day’s growth of beard, couldn’t be pinpointed to any one nationality.

One thing was certain, she had definitely drawn his interest. Those searing eyes looked right at her. Through her. And though he certainly couldn’t see inside—no one could—she felt as if he could read her thoughts.

They hadn’t met, so he wasn’t interested in her intellect, wit or personality. It couldn’t be her exciting reputation either, since, unlike her sister, she didn’t have one.

But men—specifically fortune hunters—didn’t much care about Nina’s looks or personality, and if this man was indeed a fortune hunter, he wouldn’t be the first. She’d deal with him. She was in just the mood to do it. “I need to go.”

“But your lunch.”

“Bag it for me?”

“Nina—”

“Please?”

Maria tilted her head in the man’s direction. “I think he wants to talk to you.”

“I am not interested.” To prove it, she wrenched her gaze from his, grabbed her purse and started across the street.

Not interested.

A lie, of course. She was interested, desperately so. Interested in learning what she’d missed in life by hiding away, by letting work take over, by letting family loyalty keep her silent.

The familiar spurt of bitterness went through her. After an overprotective childhood, not to mention growing up in the shadow of her sister’s outrageous stunts, she’d purposely interacted with very few people, and certainly few strangers.

Much as she’d like to change things and start...well, living, she wasn’t sure how to do that. And anyway, it didn’t matter. Certainly the stranger, gorgeous as sin and likely double the trouble, had forgotten her already. She was positive of it.

So positive she didn’t look back.

Though she wanted to.

* * *

THE REST OF the day flew by as she plowed through her business chores so she could get to her own private pride and joy—creating jewelry from her own designs.