Night's Touch (7 page)

She took a quick shower, dressed, and went downstairs to fix breakfast. As usual, the house was quiet. The words "quiet as a tomb" whispered through the back of her mind. Frowning, she wondered where that thought had come from.

She read the paper while she ate a leisurely breakfast, then lingered over a cup of coffee. After putting her dishes in the dishwasher, she went upstairs to brush her teeth and put on her makeup.

Di Giorgio was waiting for her when she went out to the garage. He nodded at her, then got into his car and followed her to the library.

She had often wondered what her parents paid him to be her bodyguard. He rarely got a day off. It had to be the most boring job in the world, following her around, sitting in the library when she was at work, sitting outside her house on her days off. She doubted he had much of a social life. He certainly wasn't married. After all, what woman would be content with a husband that was hardly ever home? She suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Di Giorgio had been her bodyguard since she was twelve years old and she didn't know a thing about him except that he had come to the United States from Sicily when he was in his mid-twenties. She had always thought of him as a necessary evil, like going to the dentist.

She pulled into her parking space, waved at Di Giorgio as she got out of the car, and almost laughed out loud at the surprised look on his face. She vowed then and there to be nicer to him in the future.

She nodded at the other workers as she moved through the library. They were a nice bunch of ladies. Most of them were in their forties or fifties and they all mothered her. A couple of them flirted with Frank. They grilled her about his private life and asked her to give Frank their phone numbers. Cara found it amusing. Secretly, she wished that Frank would call Mary Garfield, but Frank didn't seem interested in Mary or any of the other women.

Cara spent the better part of the afternoon returning books to the proper shelves. As the day wore on, she caught herself constantly looking at the clock.

"You must have a big date tonight," Sarah Beth Coleman remarked with a smile. Sarah Beth was Cara's best friend. She was married to a police officer and pregnant with their first child.

"Why do you say that?"

"I've never known you to be a clock-watcher before. Have you met someone new?"

The ladies in the library were always asking her that, hoping she would find a "nice young man" and settle down.

"I have," Cara said, unable to keep from smiling at the mere thought of him.

Sarah Beth took her by the hand and drew her deeper into the stacks. "What's his name? What's he like? When do I get to meet him?"

Cara laughed. "I really don't know anything about him. I just met him last night, but he seems wonderful. He's so nice, and so handsome…"

"Sounds like love at first sight to me," Sarah Beth said with a teasing grin.

"Was that how it was with you and Dean?"

Sarah Beth nodded. "Yes. I took one look at him and I knew he was the one."

"I'm meeting Vince tonight after work. I can hardly wait."

Sarah Beth gave her a quick hug. "I'll expect a full report tomorrow."

Around eight-thirty, things slowed down. Cara sat at her desk, idly drawing hearts and writing her name and Vince's inside. It was such a high-school kind of thing to do, but she couldn't seem to stop, couldn't help noticing how well their names looked together. She drew a new heart and wrote Mr. and Mrs. Cordova inside.

Vince. She didn't know anything about him except how he made her feel.

At five minutes to nine, she cleared her desk and grabbed her coat, told the ladies good night, and practically bolted out the door. Frank Di Giorgio wasn't far behind.

It was nine-thirteen when she pulled up in front of The Nocturne. No doubt she would get a serious lecture from Di Giorgio about the dangers of speeding sometime in the near future, but she'd worry about that later.

Looking in the rearview mirror, she applied fresh lipstick, ran a brush through her hair, took a deep breath, and then got out of the car.

Di Giorgio followed her as she walked under the black canopy and down the stairs. The man in the hooded black cloak looked her over carefully, then murmured, "Welcome back, mistress."

Cara smiled faintly, thinking his raspy voice sounded like it belonged to someone who had been dead for a hundred years.

She stopped inside the entrance, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light, then walked around the edge of the dance floor to the bar. There was a vacant stool at the end and she sat down, her gaze moving around the room.

What if he didn't show up?

"Hey, it's about time you got here."

Startled, she almost fell off the bar stool. "Vince! Where did you come from?"

"My mama?"

"Very funny. How did you sneak up on me like that?"

"Dunno. Just quiet on my feet, I guess." He smiled a roguish smile. "You're early."

"So are you."

"I know. I couldn't wait." His gaze moved over her from head to foot. She looked good enough to eat, he thought. Literally. She smelled good, too, like a fragrant breeze on a warm summer day.

"Me, either."

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Not very productive. I kept returning books to the wrong shelf."

"Why is that?"

Her gaze slid away from his. "I couldn't concentrate. All I could think about was meeting you."

"Ah, Cara."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. Damn, he wanted to take her home and make love to her all night long, and that was just wrong, because she wasn't the kind of girl to settle for a one-night stand and he couldn't offer her any more than that.

Damn! What was he doing here? There was no way they could have any kind of relationship. She was everything that was good and pure and he… he should be staked for what he was thinking!

"Vince, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Did I say something to make you mad?"

"No, darlin'."

Darlin'
. The word wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a cold night. No one had ever called her darlin' before.

Vince muttered an oath. He had to end this now, before he did something he would regret for the rest of his life—and that could be a hell of a long time. "I've got to go."

"Go?" She looked up at him. "But I thought…"

The disappointment in her eyes was like a dagger piercing his soul. "I'm sorry, Cara. I…" Dammit, what could he say to wipe that little girl lost look from her eyes?

"It's all right," she said quickly, and he could almost see her defensive walls springing into place.

"Cara, listen…"

"Hey, Cara, I was hoping you'd be here."

Turning her back on Vince, she pasted a smile of welcome on her face. "Hello, Anton. It's
so
good to see you," she said with feigned enthusiasm.

Vince ground his back teeth together. Damn the man. The jerk's timing couldn't have been worse.

"Cara…" Vince laid his hand on her arm.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Oh, are you still here? I thought you were leaving."

Vince nodded. Maybe it was better this way. Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the club.

Cara stared after him a moment, the ache she felt inside almost too much to bear. She had spent the whole day looking forward to being with Vince. She had hoped… what had she hoped? That he would be her knight in shining armor? That he would fall head-over-heels in love with her and carry her off to his castle? What a fool she had been. Things like that only happened in fairy tales.

"It's a beautiful night," Anton remarked.

"What? Oh, yes, it is."

He ran his forefinger up and down her arm. "Would you like to go for a drive?"

It was the last thing she wanted, but her bruised ego wouldn't let her refuse. Vince Cordova might not want her, but Anton found her attractive and wanted her company.

Forcing a smile, she said, "sure". Any second thoughts she had about going out with Anton were put to rest by the knowledge that Di Giorgio wouldn't be far behind.

Anton escorted her to his car, a late model BMW. Ever the gentleman, he held the door for her before going around to the driver's side.

A glance over her shoulder confirmed that Di Giorgio was right behind them.

Anton tuned the radio to a station that played soft rock, then leaned back, his arm resting along the back of the seat. "Any place you'd like to go?"

"No."

"Are you in the mood for a hot fudge sundae? I know a place that makes the best ones in town."

Determined to have a good time, she said, "Sounds good to me." As any woman could tell you, chocolate healed a multitude of hurts.

Cara frowned when he pulled up in front of a bookstore. "They sell ice cream here?"

"Among other things."

He got out of the car and came around to open her door.

"The Wiccan Heart," Cara murmured. "Are you into witchcraft?"

"Who, me?" He shook his head. "I just like good ice cream."

She felt a shiver of unease as she stepped inside. She didn't know why. It was a lovely place, filled with books and trinkets, crystals and candles in a wide variety of colors. There was an old-fashioned soda fountain in the back corner, complete with stools covered in shiny red leather.

Cara sat down and Anton sat beside her. He smiled at the waitress. "Two hot fudge sundaes, Lucy Mae, and don't spare the chocolate."

"Whatever you want," Lucy Mae replied with a saucy grin. "Your mother was asking for you earlier. She wants you to call her at home."

"Okay, thanks." Anton grinned at Cara. "My mother owns the place," he explained with a wink.

"Oh. How nice."

"Sit tight. I'd better call and make sure she's okay."

"All right." Cara watched him walk to the other side of the room, pull out a cell phone, and punch in a number, and all the while she had the feeling she should get up' and go home.

She was about to do just that when Anton returned.

Moments later, Lucy Mae placed two enormous hot fudge sundaes on the counter.

"Goodness!" Cara exclaimed. "I'll never be able to eat all that!"

"That's what you say now, but wait until you taste it."

It was everything he said it would be and more. "I've never tasted anything like this," she said, licking a bit of chocolate from her lower lip. "What do they put in it?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

She knew he was joking, but his words sent an icy chill down her spine. She didn't know why, but she had always been superstitious about talking about death.

"So, tell me about yourself," Anton said. "All I really know about you is that you're a librarian, you like hot fudge sundaes, and you live at home. What are your parents like?"

"They're just parents like…" She started to say like everyone else's, but couldn't make herself say the words. "They worry about me and want what's best for me. I'm sure your mother is the same."

"My mother," he murmured. "Yes, of course."

"Is she a witch?"

"Why would you think that?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"No reason. I mean, well, it's a normal assumption, isn't it? I mean, she owns a Wiccan book shop, after all."

He laughed, but it sounded forced. "Witchcraft and the occult are all the rage now, that's all. If onions and artichokes are popular next year, she'll change the name and the decor."

Cara grinned. "I'd like to see that."

"I'd like to meet your parents," Anton said. "Any chance I could wheedle a dinner invitation for, say, Sunday?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"Some other night?"

She shook her head. "My parents don't entertain."

"Why not?"

"They just don't."

"That seems odd. I mean, they live in that huge old…"

Cara put her spoon down as she remembered something Vince had said. "Did you follow me home from The Nocturne the other night?"

"Me?"

"Did you?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Just answer me, yes or no. Did you?"

He shrugged. "What if I did? I just wanted to make sure you got home all right. Is that a crime?"

"No, but…"

"Lots of crazies hang out at The Nocturne. I was worried about you, that's all."

"You needn't worry. I'm perfectly safe wherever I go."

"Yeah? Why is that?"

"I have a bodyguard."

"You do? Why?"

"My parents are very protective."

"No sh… no kidding. I don't think I've ever dated a girl who had her own bodyguard." Anton glanced around the shop. "Where is he?"

"Probably peeking in a window somewhere. He's very discreet." She glanced toward the door when it opened, letting in a blast of cool air and two women wearing long gray cloaks.

Cara leaned closer to Anton. "Are they witches?"

"How would I know?"

"Well, they certainly look like witches." She glanced at her watch. "I should go, it's getting late."

"Since I can't convince you to invite me to dinner on Sunday, how about if I pick you up and take you out? Just one thing," he said with a grin, "your bodyguard has to pay for his own meal."

Cara considered it a moment. When she said yes, it was more to soothe her bruised ego than because she wanted to go out with Anton.

As they left the shop, Cara noticed the two gray-clad women with their heads together. She couldn't help wondering if they were talking about her.