One Kiss in... Paris. Robyn Grady

saying goodbye.”

      “Unless I was your fiancé?”

      “I’m grateful for the bed,” she said, standing, “but not appreciative enough to listen to any more of your put-downs.”

      He moved to the rock waterfall, wedged his hands in his pockets again and, after debating with himself several moments, said calmly, “So tell me more about your situation.”

      “So you can scoff?”

      “So I can understand.”

      Dammit, one minute he was wanting to help, offering her a bed, the next he was lumping her in the same class as Linda. Was Bailey genuine about paying that money back, or were her dealings with Mama merely a side issue for him? Was his interest more about that long fair hair, those blazing blue eyes?

      That, after his last comment, seemed to have lost a little of their fire.

      Folding back down again, she set that straw hat on her lap and explained.

      “After that night … the night Emilio proposed,” she said, “his sisters jumped into organizing the wedding. Emilio set the date two months from the day he shoved that ring on my finger. He wouldn’t listen when I told him it was a mistake. He only smiled and tried to hug me when I said this had all happened too fast. Everyone kept saying what a great catch he was.”

      “Not in your opinion.”

      “Sure, we had fun,” she admitted. “Up to that point. But after that night, whenever I got vocal and tried to return his ring, Emilio got upset. His face would turn red and beads of sweat would break on his brow. He’d proposed, he’d say, and I’d accepted. I’d taken his family’s charity by working at the taverna and sleeping under their roof. We were getting married and he knew once I got over my nerves I’d be happy. I didn’t have nearly enough money for a ticket home. I was trapped.” Looking at her feet, she exhaled. “One day at Mama’s place, I broke down. We were alone and when she asked what was wrong I told her I couldn’t go through with the wedding. Everyone else might have been in love with Emilio but I wasn’t.”

      “Why not call your father?”

      Regardless of disagreements, family was family. His own father had been there through thick and thin. Or rather the man he knew as a father was.

      “If I introduced you to Dad,” she plopped her hat back on her head, “you’d understand why. I went overseas against his advice. The last thing he said to me was that if I was old enough not to listen, I was old enough to figure out my own problems.” Her voice dropped. “Believe me, he wouldn’t want to know.”

      “You’ve made a few mistakes in the past?” An insensitive question, perhaps, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this maze.

      “Nothing monumental.”

      “Until this.”

      Screwing her eyes shut, she groaned. “I knew I could’ve said no to Emilio on the day of the wedding, but I couldn’t bear to think of everyone’s meltdown, particularly his. Or I could simply have packed up and stolen off in the middle of the night and moved on to the next town. But Emilio proved to me he wasn’t the kind to let go what he believed was his. He’d come after me and do all he could to bring me back.”

      From what Mateo remembered of Emilio, he had to agree. Beneath the superficial charm lived a Neanderthal.

      Moving to a garden crowded with spiky Pandanus palms, Mateo swept his foot to move stray white pebbles back into their proper bed.

      “What makes you so sure he won’t come here?”

      “I’m not sure. I mailed him a package from the airport. The letter explained how I wished he’d listened and I wasn’t coming back. I put his ring in, as well. Hopefully that will be enough.”

      Mateo grunted. “He’s thick but not entirely stupid.” When she glanced over, curious, he explained. “The summer before I left Italy, a twelve-year-old Emilio tried to call me out. Can’t recall the reason now but certainly nothing to warrant a fistfight. When Emilio and a couple of friends cut me off in an alley, I defended myself. Emilio didn’t bother me after that.”

      Surrounded by memories, Mateo absently brushed more pebbles into the garden bed. How different his life would have been if he’d stayed in Casa Buona. What if no one had come for him all those years ago in France? What would have become of him then? If Mama hadn’t offered her help to this woman—if what she said was true—what would have happened to Bailey?

      “I’m going to pay her back,” Bailey insisted. “If it takes five years—”

      “Mama may not have five years.”

      Her head went back as if she hadn’t considered Mama’s advanced age. But then one slender shoulder hitched up and she amended. “I’ll get a loan.”

      A loan to pay a loan. “With no job?”

      Sitting straighter, she crossed those long tanned legs. “I’m fixing that.”

      “Looks like it,” he muttered, eyeing the pool sparkling with golden east coast sunshine. Linda was always on the verge of getting a job too.

      Bailey’s jaw tightened. “Accepting Mama’s money wasn’t any moral highlight—”

      “And yet you did accept.”

      The frustration in her eyes hardened before the irritation evaporated into resignation. She slowly shook her head. “Someone like you … you could never understand what it’s like to feel powerless.”

      Oh, but he did know. And he’d spent his entire adult life making certain he never felt powerless again. He’d done it through hard work, not lying around a pool. Although part of her plan had merit.

      “Getting a loan is a good idea,” he said, “but not from an institution. There’s interest. If you get behind, there are fees.”

      “Maybe I should throw some cash at a roulette wheel,” she groaned.

      “I have a better idea. I’ll pay Mama the money you owe—”

      “What?” She shook her head. “Absolutely not!”

      “—and you can pay me back.”

      “I don’t want to owe you anything.”

      “So you’re not serious about paying her back as soon as possible?”

      She eyed him as Little Red Riding Hood might eye the big bad wolf.

      “What are the terms?” She finally asked.

      “A signed agreement. Regular repayments.”

      “Why would you do that for me?”

      “Not for you. For my grandmother.” The amount Bailey owed wouldn’t make a dent in any of his accounts but he liked to think that, for once, Mama wouldn’t be left out of pocket by virtue of her soft heart.

      Bailey pushed to her feet, paced around the back of the sun lounge, studied him and then, defiant, crossed her arms. A few more seconds wound out before she announced, “Well, then, I’d better get cracking.”

      That floppy hat stuck on her head, she fished her jeans out of her knapsack and drove her legs through the denim pipes. When he realized he’d been staring while she wiggled and scooped her bottom into the seat of her jeans, he jerked his gaze away and heard her zip up. He’d already faced the fact Miss Ross wasn’t the kind of woman with whom he wished to become more involved than he already was.

      In time, he looked back to see her heading for the pool gate, that knapsack swinging over a shoulder. “Where are you going?”

      “To get a job. I’ll be back by five to sign that contract. And about those repayments …” She stopped at the gate and her glittering blue eyes meshed with his. “I want them as steep as possible.”