Never Too Late by Patricia Watters

drink, along with a
platter of authentic Bahamian conch fritters."
    "One drink
and fritters, then I want to leave," Andrea insisted. It came to her
unexpectedly, that she wanted to be with Jerry. She had no idea why. Alessandro
was an attractive man with charm, and money, and everything a woman should
want. But... She wanted to be with Jerry...
    Alessandro
reached across the table and took her hand. Peering into her eyes, he said,
"Andrea, trust me. You are safe here with me. I would not let anything
happen to you. Now relax, and I'll get our drinks and order the fritters."
    Andrea didn't
like the idea of being left alone at the table again, but she knew she was
being silly. Alessandro was a formidable-looking man. Well over six feet tall,
solidly built, broad shoulders. And he had a demeanor
about him that not a man in the place would challenge. It was also clear, from
the looks of those around her, that they considered her his woman. Alessandro
Cavallaro's woman. A troubling thought. Somehow she felt he was known well
here, and feared...
    A long time
ticked by before Alessandro returned to the table, followed by a man carrying a
tray with two tall drinks and a platter of conch fritters. Deciding to put
something in her stomach before having the drink, Andrea sank her teeth into a
conch fritter and was pleasantly surprised. Smiling at Alessandro, she said,
"I'm sorry for doubting you, but I was expecting a much different
place..."
    "A place
for lovers?"
    "Well,
yes."
    Alessandro
reached across the table and took her hand again. Looking into her eyes, he
said, in a voice that sent a chill rushing through her, though not a chill of
pleasure, "A place for lovers is wherever two lovers can be
together." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, holding it tight
enough that it would have been awkward to pull it away, yet wanting to do just
that. "I brought you here because it's away from tourists, away from our
fellow passengers, away from your husband," he said, eyeing her steadily. "I
want you all to myself, cara mia . Now relax and enjoy your
drink." He nudged the glass toward her.
    Andrea slipped
her hand from his and took a sip of her drink... sweet and citrusy and spiked
with rum. But it also had a strange bitterness that made her lips purse.
    Alessandro
laughed. "It's the bitters you are tasting," he said. "They are
used to cut the sweetness of the grenadine and crème de cassis. But it will
help you relax. When you're finished, we'll go to the fire dance."
    Andrea took
another sip, rolled it around in her mouth, and let it slip down her throat. It
wasn't so bitter now. After another few fritters, she finished the drink and
set the glass down. She started to eat one last fritter, but her stomach was
beginning to feel a little queasy...
    ...an Italian gigolo who'll drop you like a
hot potato...
    It crossed her
mind that there could have been something bitter in the drink that had nothing
to do with cutting the sweetness. But Alessandro was not a gigolo, so it was
simply nerves brought on by the thought of going to the fire dance where Jerry
would be watching them. Dismissing her earlier doubts, she smiled at
Alessandro, whose face looked a little blurry, but handsome... He smiled back
and placed another kiss on her palm...
    ***
    Through a haze
of smoke, while standing in a darkened corner of the Pirate's Cove, Jerry
watched Andrea and Alessandro Cavallaro, who were sitting at a small table,
heads bent toward each other, eyes locked. Cavallaro had Andrea's hand
sandwiched between his, and whatever he was telling her, she was sucking it up.
But she also looked a little... stoned—swaying in her chair, bracing her free
hand against the table. Andrea rarely drank, and whenever she did, she always
stopped when her nose felt tingly. He was glad he'd followed them, which wasn't
difficult. When the passengers began funneling off the ship, Andrea was so
caught up in hanging onto Cavallaro's arm while talking and flirting, she