Accidental Bodyguard. Sharon Hartley
the moon deserves to taste this spectacular grape. Please join me.”
Claudia hesitated, tempted. Lordy. When would she ever get another opportunity to taste such expensive wine?
She took a step away. No. What was she doing? This was too dangerous. “I really can’t.”
“Ah, cherie. Believe me, he is not worth your tears.”
“You think I’m crying over a man?”
“Are you not?”
“Yeah.” Claudia sighed. “I guess I am.”
Marsali smiled sadly. “I know the symptoms only too well.” She motioned toward a table a few feet away where Claudia spotted a bottle and another graceful wineglass. She was certain the table had been empty when she’d arrived at the beach.
“Please join me,” Marsali said again.
Almost convinced she’d already be dead if this woman were working for Carlos, Claudia walked with her new friend toward the table. “Are you expecting someone else?” Claudia asked, nodding at the second glass.
Marsali dribbled dark liquid into the second glass, ending the pour with a practiced twist. “I always bring two stems when I come to the beach with wine. A woman never knows when she might meet someone interesting.”
Still suspicious, Claudia reached for her wine, marveling at how light the glass felt in her hands, and knew it had to be real crystal. “To the next man in your life,” Marsali said, touching her crystal against Claudia’s with a musical clink.
“I’m done with men,” Claudia said, taking a careful sip, not wanting to waste a drop of the wine. She’d do the math later and try to approximate how much each swallow cost. The liquid flowed smoothly across her tongue. Wow. Delicious, but of course she was no expert.
“Done with men? Have you perhaps become a lesbian?” Marsali wondered in her charming accent.
Claudia almost choked. “No, no. It’s not that.”
“Then you must never think of being done with men, cherie, even in the blackest hour of the darkest night. Men make life interesting.” Her eyes swept Claudia’s face approvingly. “You have many males ahead of you to tame.”
“To tame?”
Marsali shrugged. “Men are wild animals that must be subdued. Some are slinky, sexy lions, some energetic bears. Unfortunately, some—like my current husband—are more like water buffalo. Definitely a challenge to domesticate. But all types have their uses and advantages.”
Claudia stared at Marsali and wondered about her age. Maybe she was older than she appeared. No question a stunningly beautiful woman, but on closer look older than forty. And perhaps she’d undergone some top-notch plastic surgery around the eyes.
“How many husbands have you had?”
“Lloyd is my fourth legal husband.”
“Oh,” Claudia murmured, confused by her emphasis on legal.
“And you, Louise? Are you married?”
“Divorced.” Claudia grimaced at how bitter she sounded, and took another swallow of the wine, which really was extraordinary.
“Ah. Divorce is a nasty business,” Marsali said. “Could that be the reason for your tears?”
Claudia shrugged. “Not really. I was well rid of the bum, but can’t imagine going through that humiliating experience three times.”
“Agreed,” Marsali said. “Divorce is far too expensive.”
“But aren’t you—”
“I’m three times a widow,” Marsali stated with a dramatic sigh. “The tragic result of falling passionately in love with the money of older men.”
Claudia opened her mouth to offer sympathy, but closed it when the words registered.
Marsali grinned. “I wish you could see your face, cherie.”
“Sorry.” Claudia gulped more wine.
“There have been many generous men in my life. Believe me, I loved every single one, but of course I couldn’t marry them all.” Marsali shook her head, her hair swinging. “An intelligent woman must be careful before committing. It is fortuitous that we met tonight, no?”
“I’m sorry?” Claudia asked, confused again. Either that or the wine was going to her head.
“I suspect you are in need of some guidance.”
“You’re probably right about that.”
Marsali sipped her wine before speaking. “You are young yet. You see a handsome young man—a stud I think you Americans call them—and the hormones take over, no?”
Claudia laughed, thinking of Jackson Richards. Could this woman read her mind?
“And it is perfectly okay to enjoy yourself on occasion,” Marsali said. “But youth and beauty are your most precious assets. You must learn to spend them wisely.”
Spend them wisely? Claudia stared at Marsali, trying to process a philosophy alien to anything she’d ever considered. She’d never met a woman like this. Maybe she’d seen a few in movies, but thought they were mostly fictional.
“What did you gain from your marriage?” Marsali asked.
“Not a damn thing.” Claudia finished the wine and placed her glass on the table, her mood vastly improved even though they were discussing her disastrous marriage to Carlos. Was it the wine or the company? She grinned. “I wanted out so badly I gave him everything.”
“Oh, dear,” Marsali said with a disapproving frown. “Definitely a blunder. I wonder if it is too late to—”
A drop of cold rain fell on Claudia’s arm. Several more quickly followed. Claudia looked up. She’d been so engrossed in this illuminating conversation, she hadn’t noticed the wind had died down.
“Run for home, cherie,” Marsali squealed, gathering the wine and glasses. “Au revoir.”
Until we meet again. Wishing she could see the wonderful Marsali again, Claudia dashed for Villa Alma. But that couldn’t happen. She’d let her guard down and put herself in danger. Marsali had seen her face.
Too bad, though. It’d been nice having someone to talk to.
* * *
JACK WAS UP before daylight Saturday morning, stoked when he exited his apartment into a frigid morning. It had rained hard last night, and the plunge in temperature from the cold front resulted in a smattering of frost, a fricking miracle in Miami, something he hadn’t seen since leaving Ocala.
But now the sky was clear and bright blue. Wearing sweats for the first time in years, he jogged two glorious miles along the beach and completed an upper body workout in the island’s state-of-the-art gym, another perk of his stint as the security director. The downside was how much time it took to get anywhere off island because of the ferry. To be safe, he’d have to be in line at 7:45 to catch the 8:00 a.m. departure. Lola would provide bagels at the meeting, so breakfast could wait.
After a quick shower, he grabbed coffee at the Island Café and walked to the security office to run down Louise Clark’s tag number. He had maybe thirty minutes. He didn’t quite understand why he was in such a hurry. Learning about Ms. Clark wasn’t an emergency—or he hoped not, anyway. Yet his gut told him he needed to know the truth ASAP.
He brought up the Department of Motor Vehicles website and entered the tag number.
After a few prompts, the name Claudia Jean Goodwin materialized.
Well, well, well.
Was this Louise’s real name, or had she stolen the vehicle? The tag matched the vehicle description so she hadn’t switched