Love In Focus Page 3

  “Every woman needs a man to get over her ex. Odds usually favor the divorce attorney, but I don’t think Claire is your type.” Eileen brushed her hands down Nissa’s arms. “You’ve wallowed long enough. Time to get back out there.”

  “Ma, I was over Lance when I nearly ran him over with my car.” Nissa rolled her eyes.

  The sparkle in Eileen’s green eyes was either humor or horror. “You did not.”

  “Of course not.” Even as she smiled she conjured up images that lightened her mood. “It was only a piece of his anatomy I wanted to run over.” She’d gotten over that. Mostly.

  “I never did like that boy,” Eileen muttered and tugged on the top of Nissa’s t-shirt to widen Nissa’s curb appeal. “As much as I love my grandchildren, you are well rid of him.”

  “I know.” And she did know. But that didn’t mean she didn’t miss having someone, anyone to share her life with. It was the loneliness that hurt the most. And the fear that had followed her back from South America. “And like you said, it’s time to move on, right?”

  She glanced over to where Dante sat, arms crossed on the table, unabashedly watching her. He smiled and tipped her heart onto its side. Oh, boy. This one could break her heart.

  “Go on, now. Take the rest of the night off. I’ll cover your tables and if I get in a bind, I’ll call in Sabrina for reinforcements. Where did that girl get to?”

  “In with Flynn,” Nissa said. “I’d knock before you go into the office.”

  “That’s what I love to hear. Healthy young married couple working on giving me more beautiful grandbabies.” Eileen caught Nissa’s face in her hands and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Have fun.”

  Wishing she’d thought to pack a change of shirt, Nissa filled another beer, checked in on Faith and her other regulars sitting at the bar, poured a glass of Chardonnay for herself, and joined Dante at his table. “Ma thought you could use another.”

  “You ma sounds like a good woman.” Dante lifted his glass in a toast toward where Eileen stood and earned a nod of approval before she headed into the kitchen.

  “So, um.” Nissa sat down and scooted closer to the table as doubt nuzzled around the now suspicious excitement. “You’re having trouble with your camera again.”

  “I am.” Dante cupped his glass between his palms and leaned closer. “Since you seemed to have a knack, I was wondering if you gave private lessons.”

  “Photography lessons?” Nissa frowned. Was this guy for real? “Ah, no. I mean I haven’t before. I never really thought about…” She trailed off as panic scampered through her stomach. Fixing his camera in the park had been one thing; she’d been able to distance herself from the feel of the device in her hand, pass it back to him before she lost herself in the world through the lens. Nissa scrubbed her hands down her jeans until they burned. “I’m taking a break from photography for a while, actually. While we get settled. We just bought a house here, moved up from the Bay Area. I’ve got boxes everywhere. No time for…pictures.”

  “Well that’s too bad. Now I have to find another excuse to spend time with you.” He turned that grin on her again, only this time, for the first time, she didn’t quite buy it.

  Nissa sat back, hands folded in her lap as she considered. Meeting Dante Thanos in the park had been one thing; a chance encounter she could build fantasies around, joke about and laugh about with Sabrina or even her mother. That Dante Thanos had been unassuming, charming; genuine.

  But the man sitting across from her now? The man who radiated sex and reaffirmed anyone’s doubt in the genetic jackpot, seemed to be trying just a little too hard. There was no logical reason for him to have come here to see her again. Sure, there was a spark between them. But men like him didn’t peruse women like her—rebounding single mothers with shiny new mortgages—without a good reason.

  “What’s your game?”

  “Excuse me?” His eyebrows shot up as if she’d caught him by surprise.

  “This.” She waved a hand between them. “You. Here. Me. Here. This.” Was imbecile a language? “Men like you don’t hit on women like me and—”

  “You think I’m hitting on you?” Surprise turned to shock. “You were nice to me in the park and since you didn’t have time for coffee I thought maybe I’d treat you to dinner.”

  “Oh. God.” There wasn’t a hole deep enough for her to fall into. She sat back in her chair as her face went hot enough to make her wonder if menopause had made an early appearance. “I am so sorry. I am so out of practice with this whole man thing.” That’s it, keep talking. Make it worse. “I should have realized that’s what…I mean, that you don’t have any interest in…you know what?” She scooted her chair back. “I’m just going to—”

  His free hand shot up to cup the back of her neck before he hauled her across the table and kissed her. No. He didn’t just kiss her. He awakened her. The feel of his lips, the growing pressure building inside her, the way he made love to her mouth had every cell in her body firing. For the first time since South America, she couldn’t think, could only feel, and those feelings had her grabbing hold of his shirt and holding on for the ride. Seconds before lift off, he pulled away. He released her and sat back in his chair.

  Nissa’s ears roared. She couldn’t hear anything and yet, she heard everything, including the applause that circled the room accompanied by laughter and a few wolf whistles. She fell back into her chair and pressed her hands against her flaming cheeks.

  “All right, all right.” Eileen’s voice cut through the fog in Nissa’s brain and she felt rather than saw her mother approach. “Well then, aren’t you full of surprises Mr. Man from the Park.”

  “Dante Thanos.” Dante rose to his feet and Nissa almost giggled as her mother arched her neck to look up at him. “I apologize for the scene, Mrs. Lafferty. Your daughter…well, it seems she needed convincing she’s worth a man’s attention.”

  Something tipped over inside Nissa and warmed her from the inside.

  “Eileen, please. After kissing my girl like that, you’re practically family. So.” She pushed Dante back into his chair. “You’ll be wanting dinner I take it?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Dante said. “Fish and Chips. And some of that fine soda bread I saw earlier.”

  “Excellent. Nissa?”

  “Whatever,” Nissa muttered. Lord in heaven what that man could do with his mouth was probably illegal in several states. “Surprise me.”

  “I’d have thought you’d had enough surprises for one day, but as you were.” She patted Nissa’s shoulder and returned to the kitchen.

  “She didn’t mean it!” Nissa held up her hands when she thought Dante might touch her again. “Just…stay on your side of the table.” While she got her brain to working again. What was happening to her? What was going on?

  “As you wish.” He took a healthy swig of beer.

  “Stop that.”

  “What? Quoting an awesome movie? How’s this. Hello, my name is Inigo—”

  “Okay.” She held up her hands and laughed. “Save some for later.”

  “Later as in dessert?”

  “Please don’t flirt with me,” she whispered and watched concern fill his eyes. “I don’t do well with flirting. It never seems real.” And this felt far more real than she wanted.

  Without breaking eye contact, he held out his hand. Without hesitating, she placed hers in his and shivered as the tip of his finger circled her ring finger. “How long?”

  “How long what?”

  “How long since you took off your wedding ring?”

  She blew out a breath, tried to make light of her divorce, and sagged in defeat. “A little over a year. But that’s not what’s—”

  “Of course it is. He really did a number on you, didn’t he?” He slipped his fingers through hers. “If and when you want to talk about it, I’ll be happy to listen. In the meantime, if you don’t believe another word I ever say, believe this.” He leaned forward, pulling her toward him. She c
ould feel the warmth of his breath on her face. “If I ever come face to face with your ex-husband, he will be walking funny for the rest of his life.”

  Chapter Three

  Dante needed a keeper. If not a keeper, he at least needed a side-kick who could warn him when he was about to do something stupid. Like kiss Nissa Lafferty.

  He’d have been safer lighting the fuse on a keg of dynamite.

  He tossed his hotel key card onto the table inside the front door to his suite and headed for the kitchenette where he unloaded the beer he’d picked up at Bottles and Bottles. Given the way his day had gone, the combo pharmacy/liquor store seemed appropriate. If there was a prescription he could fill for utter idiocy, he’d need a lifetime supply.

  He twisted open a bottle and drank greedily, hoping for an instant buzz that would drown out that internal Jiminy Cricket conscience that had grown increasingly loud from the second he’d cut a new deal to find those photographs.

  “Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He strode across the incessantly beige room and stood in front of the window overlooking St. Helena. Even in the darkness he could see the telltale hint of the park a few blocks away; the park he’d deemed the perfect starting point.

  That was when he’d lost control, wasn’t it? When he’d first talked to her in the park. He drank again and realized that the excellent dinner he’d consumed was only soaking up the mind-numbing alcohol. Maybe if he cracked himself over the head with the empty bottle he’d be able to get some sleep. Instead, images of Nissa floated through his mind like bubbles. When one popped, another one moved right in. That eye-lightening smile of hers; the way she gnawed on her lower lip when she was deep in thought. The way her mouth had felt under his. Surprised and yielding; tempting and just shy of explosive. It hadn’t been nearly enough. He wanted more—more of her, more kisses, more…everything.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose until he saw stars. What the hell was he thinking kissing her like that? Kissing her at all? Giving into the temptation that had struck the second he’d stood toe to toe with her. But even he, a man who planned for every contingency, couldn’t have predicted every synapse in his brain short-circuiting the second he touched her. It had taken every ounce of control he possessed not to take her up on her offer to bring her back to his hotel and irritate the neighbors.

  He couldn’t remember the last time someone had shoved him so far off kilter and left him scrambling to grab hold of the control on which he prided himself.

  It was as if the universe needed to prove his mother right. Again. She’d always said he’d been born and would die a charmer. It was that charm he’d built his livelihood around. But not just charm. What Dante learned early in life was that he knew how to read people; adding the wink and a smile just took the sting out of whatever he took from them. He’d spent the last twelve years honing a reputation built on cool control and success. He prided himself on being unshakable while rolling with whatever punches the situation—or targets—threw at him. For a solitary man like Dante there was little more dangerous than emotion, which was why he’d spent most of his thirty-three years avoiding anything close to connections. The more dangerous the job, the more pleasure he took in it; the bigger the rush when he completed it.

  Nissa Lafferty, however, was the kind of dangerous that could make a man forget every promise he’d ever made to himself. The kind of dangerous that had him sitting in his hotel room, hoping to drink himself into oblivion rather than plan his next course of action.

  He scrubbed a hand down the side of his face, gripped the back of his neck as an odd pressure he could only define as regret built inside of him. Why was this so difficult? He’d infiltrated everything from biker gangs to organized crime; from Wall Street brokerage houses to shipping companies. He’d worked for the police, for government agencies, provided private assistance when the law proved a hindrance. Sure, he’d done well as a freelance fixer. But he’d realized early on the real money was in the private sector: in protecting people’s secrets.

  And in some instances, covering up crimes. His stomach churned as he wondered what Nissa would think about who he truly was; what he did with his life. Dante clenched his jaw. Why should he care what she thought? He’d known her what? A few hours? Nothing about this single mother from St. Helena mattered at all.

  “It doesn’t.” Except…it did. Doubt crept around inside of him and settled like a stone in his chest. He finished the beer, retrieved another and sat at the dining table where he’d set up his laptop. This wasn’t him. Mooning over some woman he barely knew, second guessing every step he’d taken since he’d set foot in this town. No, Dante Thanos was a man who enjoyed the game, embraced the adrenaline rush that came with the unexpected.

  He’d bedded royalty, movie stars, and spies for information. He’d charmed international prosecutors, socialites, and the occasional mafia daughter into confessing their loved ones’ confidences. If those revelations required the removal of a woman’s La Perla underwear, what was wrong with that? Not that sex was always part of the job, but he wasn’t about to turn it down when it was willingly offered. Besides, it wasn’t as if he could maintain a profile on LoveMatches.com to scratch that particular itch. Even pseudo-private investigators needed a social life.

  Seduction was just part of the dance; one he could choreograph to suit whatever target he had in his sights. He made it a point, when intimacy was called for, to leave that particular woman with a smile even as he might break her heart. It was business. That was all. They were part of the job. That was all.

  But that was before he’d kissed Nissa.

  He slammed the bottle on the table as his laptop blinked to life.

  Everything about her had been different. The way she could find peace just sitting on a park bench. The way her hair had shimmered in the sun, calling to him and throwing him off balance enough that he revealed himself far ahead of schedule. The secretive smile she’d offered as she took the camera from his hands and played it as effectively as a honed musician played a cello. But he’d hated the uncertainty he’d seen on her face when faced with potential attraction; that she didn’t have the confidence in herself he knew she should.

  The defeat on her drawn face had sliced through him, followed quickly by rage that any man had made her feel less than the spectacular woman he saw her to be. That she believed what her ex had doled out only increased his frustration. He’d felt the passion inside of her, tasted it, and, like a drug addict after taking his first hit, he needed another fix.

  “No. What you need is to get out of town,” he muttered. What he needed was to collect that paycheck that would remove the weight of responsibility that had been dragging him down for the past two years. Either way, the sooner he got away from Nissa Lafferty the better. Which meant he needed information. A lot of it.

  Fast.

  *

  Yet another sleepless night that hadn’t been a complete waste. Nissa poured her third cup of coffee and scanned her kitchen, pleased with her unpacking results. The empty boxes and packing material sat piled high in the corner of the breakfast nook. The glass etched cabinets teased an organized collection of plates, cups, and bowls that only a newly moved in owner could produce. Her great-grandmother’s cast iron pan—one of her prized possessions—hung on the wall beside the stove in its planned place of honor while Caley’s Wonder Woman cup and straw stood beside Wyatt’s Teenage Mutant whatsits glass. With Nissa’s prized purple chipped “Best Mom in the Universe” mug in between, it was finally beginning to feel like home.

  She’d organized the pantry, even taken a few minutes to plan out the next few weeks of meals thanks to her new speedy cooker. Picker’s Produce, Meats and More reminded her of a local grocery she’d frequented back in the city, but this local store came with the added bonus of small-town hospitality along with a bit of good-natured gossip. She’d be up to speed on the town’s goings on in no time. But for now, after a good cleaning and mop of the floor, she stood in the doorway of t
he kitchen, suitably disgusted with how far she’d go to avoid thinking about the fact she was terrified she’d never be able to pick up a camera again.

  It wasn’t as if she had to worry about money. Yet. The divorce settlement had been more than sufficient for the down payment on the house, but she still had to come up with house payments, car insurance, and all the other stuff Lance had always insisted on taking care of. Not that Nissa was ignorant of such things. She’d paid enough attention over the years to know what was going in and out of the family bank account. That didn’t mean she hadn’t suffered a bit of shell-shock from the actual reality of life when she realized everything was now in her hands. If it was only herself, she wouldn’t have worried. Heck she could have holed up in her parent’s guest house for as long as she wanted—or as long as she could stand it. But Wyatt and Caley deserved the absolute best she could give them, beginning with a house within walking distance of their new school, close to their grandparents, aunt and uncles, and, hopefully, in a few years a swimming pool in the back yard.

  But all of that would only remain if she could somehow get past the mind-numbing fear that struck whenever she even thought about photography. “So ridiculous,” she muttered as she set her mug down on the side counter and headed into the living room to unpack the box of family photos she planned to hang on the entryway hall. She was a strong woman. An independent woman now. Part of her knew she had Lance to thank for reminding her she didn’t need him—or any man for that matter—to get along in the world.

  A world filled with as much wonder and beauty as cruelty and violence.

  She shivered, squeezed her eyes shut against the ghostly sounds of gunfire and screams that echoed in her head. Oh, no. Not again. Not now. Nissa crouched, hands gripping the edges of the large frame. Cold sweat broke out on her face, her chest, and she tucked into herself, tried to force the images away but they’d lodged inside her like permanent snapshots to the point she couldn’t break free.