held testimony of dangerous living and survival. More than once, Marisol had seen a glimmer of pain shrouded in Clay's guarded eyes.
They didn't bother stopping home to drop off the nonperishable groceries, instead heading straight to dinner. Clay had a reservation at Villaggio restaurant in Merrick Park, where they dined al fresco among softly lit potted palm trees. Seated intimately around the round table, Clay, Marisol, and Jimmy spent an enjoyable evening, keeping the conversation light and focused on Jimmy.
As they left the restaurant, Marisol's heart lurched when she glimpsed the broad back of the man ahead of her. She could have sworn it was her ex-fiancé, Gabe, as she watched his brash swagger and caught a whiff of expensive Italian cologne. It was absurd to be jarred at seeing Gabe out of his usual South Beach turf and in Coral Gables, but a mere glimpse of him was enough to irritate her. When he jumped into a red Porsche and sped away, Marisol shuddered and rubbed her bare arms.
Clay placed a protective arm around her shoulders and murmured in her ear, "Is something wrong?"
Marisol tried to dispel her unease by smiling at Clay and Jimmy. "No, nothing. Why?"
"You look a little shaken."
Marisol waved away Clay's comment with a blithe hand. There was no use telling him that she thought she had seen Gabe because then Clay would suspect him of being the stalker and that wasn't likely. Her ex-fiancé was too cocky and full of himself to remain anonymous while he sent her gifts and notes. Plus, the voice on the phone had not been Gabe's.
"I guess I'm a bit jumpy," Marisol said, linking her arm with Jimmy's as they walked to the car.
Clay drove Jimmy to The Haven of Hope, a special working community for mentally handicapped adults. When they got there, Marisol said good-bye to Jimmy with a kiss on his cheek. She watched Clay walk Jimmy to the door, his strong arm fondly draped over his younger brother's narrow shoulders. Marisol loved the easy, affectionate way Clay interacted with Jimmy as they chatted like close brothers.
After they spoke for a few moments, Clay hugged Jimmy and left. Feelings of warmth mingled with near painful longing inundated Marisol's heart as she witnessed the deep love Clay had for Jimmy.
Someday Clay would make a wonderful father; she was certain of it.
* * *
They drove home in silence, each lost deep in thought and when they reached Marisol's apartment, Clay said, "I'll put away the groceries while you pack an overnight bag. I wasn't able to hire a locksmith, so tomorrow I'll install the locks on your doors myself. We're staying at The Delano Hotel tonight."
"The Delano? Really?" When he nodded, Marisol raised her brows at the expensive hotel he'd chosen. "Why not your apartment?"
"Where do most newlyweds spend their first night together?" he asked with an arched brow.
"In a hotel."
"Bingo. If the stalker's watching, we'll be more convincing."
Marisol couldn't argue with that, so she quickly packed a bag and changed into a vivid print silk dress appropriate for The Delano crowd. She was glad of her choice; the silk felt luxurious against her skin and after working all day in the linen dress, she felt like wearing something soft and fluid.
Marisol bent forward and fluffed her hair. When she straightened up, her cheeks felt flushed but it wasn't an aftereffect of being bent over. Her blood warmed at the prospect of spending the night with Clay in a hotel. It was past ten and she was eager to leave as she grabbed her overnight bag and joined Clay in the living room.
"I'm ready," she announced, blushing when he gave her a slow, sexy smile that held carnal promises.
They checked into the hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Clay Blackthorne, with only two small overnight bags at eleven o'clock in the evening. When they arrived at the top floor, Clay held her hand and led her to the penthouse suite.
Stunned, she turned to him. "The penthouse?" Was he out of his mind? Either he was a millionaire
They didn't bother stopping home to drop off the nonperishable groceries, instead heading straight to dinner. Clay had a reservation at Villaggio restaurant in Merrick Park, where they dined al fresco among softly lit potted palm trees. Seated intimately around the round table, Clay, Marisol, and Jimmy spent an enjoyable evening, keeping the conversation light and focused on Jimmy.
As they left the restaurant, Marisol's heart lurched when she glimpsed the broad back of the man ahead of her. She could have sworn it was her ex-fiancé, Gabe, as she watched his brash swagger and caught a whiff of expensive Italian cologne. It was absurd to be jarred at seeing Gabe out of his usual South Beach turf and in Coral Gables, but a mere glimpse of him was enough to irritate her. When he jumped into a red Porsche and sped away, Marisol shuddered and rubbed her bare arms.
Clay placed a protective arm around her shoulders and murmured in her ear, "Is something wrong?"
Marisol tried to dispel her unease by smiling at Clay and Jimmy. "No, nothing. Why?"
"You look a little shaken."
Marisol waved away Clay's comment with a blithe hand. There was no use telling him that she thought she had seen Gabe because then Clay would suspect him of being the stalker and that wasn't likely. Her ex-fiancé was too cocky and full of himself to remain anonymous while he sent her gifts and notes. Plus, the voice on the phone had not been Gabe's.
"I guess I'm a bit jumpy," Marisol said, linking her arm with Jimmy's as they walked to the car.
Clay drove Jimmy to The Haven of Hope, a special working community for mentally handicapped adults. When they got there, Marisol said good-bye to Jimmy with a kiss on his cheek. She watched Clay walk Jimmy to the door, his strong arm fondly draped over his younger brother's narrow shoulders. Marisol loved the easy, affectionate way Clay interacted with Jimmy as they chatted like close brothers.
After they spoke for a few moments, Clay hugged Jimmy and left. Feelings of warmth mingled with near painful longing inundated Marisol's heart as she witnessed the deep love Clay had for Jimmy.
Someday Clay would make a wonderful father; she was certain of it.
* * *
They drove home in silence, each lost deep in thought and when they reached Marisol's apartment, Clay said, "I'll put away the groceries while you pack an overnight bag. I wasn't able to hire a locksmith, so tomorrow I'll install the locks on your doors myself. We're staying at The Delano Hotel tonight."
"The Delano? Really?" When he nodded, Marisol raised her brows at the expensive hotel he'd chosen. "Why not your apartment?"
"Where do most newlyweds spend their first night together?" he asked with an arched brow.
"In a hotel."
"Bingo. If the stalker's watching, we'll be more convincing."
Marisol couldn't argue with that, so she quickly packed a bag and changed into a vivid print silk dress appropriate for The Delano crowd. She was glad of her choice; the silk felt luxurious against her skin and after working all day in the linen dress, she felt like wearing something soft and fluid.
Marisol bent forward and fluffed her hair. When she straightened up, her cheeks felt flushed but it wasn't an aftereffect of being bent over. Her blood warmed at the prospect of spending the night with Clay in a hotel. It was past ten and she was eager to leave as she grabbed her overnight bag and joined Clay in the living room.
"I'm ready," she announced, blushing when he gave her a slow, sexy smile that held carnal promises.
They checked into the hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Clay Blackthorne, with only two small overnight bags at eleven o'clock in the evening. When they arrived at the top floor, Clay held her hand and led her to the penthouse suite.
Stunned, she turned to him. "The penthouse?" Was he out of his mind? Either he was a millionaire
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