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"Yeah. But one thing Margo and I have in common is an appreciation for being able to pick up and move whenever we like. I've lived in hotels for the last dozen years because I like the transience, the convenience. Hell." He broke off the bloom, handed it absently to Laura. "I've been waiting for her all my life. I always figured after the wait was over, I'd bide my time. A year or two of fun and games—which is exactly what she expects of me. How she thinks of me. Then I'd sneak the idea of marriage in on her."
With a half laugh, Laura shook her head. "Is this a chess game or a relationship, Josh?"
"It's been a chess game until recently. Move and counter-move. I finessed her into falling in love with me."
"Do you really think so?" Laura clucked her tongue and slid the rosebud into the lapel of his jacket. "Men are such boobs." She rose on her toes to kiss him lightly. "Ask her. I dare you."
He had to wince. "I wish you hadn't put it like that."
"One more element of the perfect sister is knowing her brother's deepest weakness."
Blissfully ignorant of the plans afoot, Margo watched a satisfied customer walk out the door. The way her feet were aching she was relieved that Laura would be putting in a half day tomorrow. As it was five-forty-five, she considered cashing out for the day, maybe nipping out just a few minutes early to go back to the suite and make herself beautiful for the fabulous dinner Josh had promised her.
The advantages to her new life were just piling up, she decided as she swung around the counter and slipped out of her shoes. Not only was she proving that she had a brain as well as a body, but she had discovered a whole new aspect of her background to explore.
Her parents had loved each other. Perhaps it was foolish for a grown woman to find such comfort and joy in that. But she knew it had opened something in her heart. Some things do last forever, she thought. Love held.
And tonight, she was going to tell Josh what she knew, what she believed, and what she wanted. A real life, a full life.
A married life.
It made her laugh to imagine his face when she proposed to him. She would have to be clever in her phrasing, she mused while she transferred cash out of the till into the bag for deposit. A subtle challenge, she decided. But not too subtle.
She would make him happy. They would travel the world together, go to all those exciting places they both loved. And always come back here. Because here was home for both of them.
It had taken her much too long to accept that.
She glanced up as the door opened, pushed back impatience with a shopkeeper's smile. Then squealed.
"Claudio!'' She was around the counter in a dash, her hands flung out toward the tall, handsomely distinguished man. "This is wonderful." She kissed both of his cheeks before drawing back to arm's length to beam at him.
He was, of course, as stunning as ever. Silver wings flew back from his temples into thick black hair. His face was smooth and tanned, set off by his long Roman nose and the light in his chocolate-brown eyes.
"Bella." He brought both of her hands to his lips. "Molta bella. I was set to be angry with you, Margo mia, but now, seeing you, I'm weak."
Appreciating him, she laughed. "What is Italy's most successful film producer doing in my little corner of the world?"
"Looking for you, my own true love."
"Ah." That was nonsense, of course. But they had always understood each other perfectly. "Now you've found me, Claudio."
"So I have." And he could see immediately that he need not have worried. She was glowing. "And the rumors and buzzing I heard when I returned from location were true after all. La Margo is running a shop."
With a challenging gleam in her eye, she lifted her chin. "So?"
"So?" He spread his hands expressively. "So."
"Let me get you a glass of champagne, darling, and you can tell me what you're really doing in Monterey."
"I tell you I come to search for my lost love." But he winked at her as he accepted the glass. "I had a bit of business in Los Angeles. How could I come so close without seeing you?"
"It was sweet of you. And I am glad to see you."
"You should have called me when there was trouble for you."
It seemed a lifetime ago. She only shrugged. "I got through it."
"That Alain. He's a pig." Claudio stalked around the shop in the long, limber strides he used to stalk a soundstage. His burst of gutter Italian termed Alain as a great deal more, and less, than a mere pig.
