Marrying Mari (10 page)

“That’s coffee for you and water for her, when she wakes up. I’m making you a sandwich and soup, and I’ll bring it up as soon as it’s ready.” She fixed him with a look. “Don’t even bother to argue. You both look drained. You need food.”

“I don’t know when she’ll wake up.”

“I mean you and Ethan. Don’t be an idiot. When that little girl wakes up, I’ll ask her what she wants.” Mrs. Watson sniffed. She leaned down and bundled up the discarded clothes. “These are ruined, I think. Well, we’ll see. Back in a few minutes.”

Gabe opened his mouth to thank her, then just shook his head. Now what? Watch and wait, two things he’d never been good at. He pulled his cell from a pocket and dialed. “Tosh? Yeah, she’s okay, we think. I won’t be in tonight. Call me here if you need me.”

“I keep telling you, we don’t need you. You’re just a pretty face to bring in the women, and I guess you won’t even be good for that anymore.” Tosh’s deep voice held a laugh.

“Not so much,” Gabe agreed, looking at Mari. “Thanks for picking up the bike.”

“Hey, I love the rocket. Got it parked out front, all shiny and shit. Maybe your bike will attract some upscale women into this joint.” The phone clicked and Tosh was gone. Gabe smiled. Despite everything, Gabriel knew the club was in excellent hands with his manager.

His next call was to Elaine, the woman who managed Insatiable, and the outcome was basically the same. Gabe knew he had put good people in place, so he wasn’t worried about either the restaurant or the club for the night. Both his managers promised to get the nightly numbers to him before going home, and Gabe would find some time to check them.

“Take a shower, man.” Ethan strode into the room silently, carrying a white paper bag. He pulled out a plastic pill vial and set it on the bedside table. “You’re a mess.”

Gabe yawned and stretched. “Yeah. Okay. Mrs. W is making sandwiches and soup for you and me, buddy.”

“So she told me.”

Gabriel headed for his own suite, laying a hand on Ethan’s shoulder before he left. “She’s home and she’s okay.”

“Yes.”

He studied his friend. “Ethan, I know your mind is going a million miles a minute planning the overtaking of the world, but relax, all right? Get out of that suit. Decompress. She’s here.” He squeezed his friend’s shoulder. Ethan didn’t look at him. Gabe sighed. “I’ll be back in a few.” He walked away, stopping at the door when Ethan spoke softly, but with a steel edge to his voice.

“Now we have to keep her here.”

Gabriel sighed again, then headed across the hall, suddenly desperate for a hot shower.

Mari floated up out of the solid blackness.

She didn’t want to, there was definitely a reason she didn’t want to, but she was headed toward the surface of consciousness without being able to stop herself.

As she opened her eyes, she remembered why she didn’t want to wake up—pain.

“Son of a bitch.”

Her garbled mutter brought Ethan’s head up. He’d been sitting in the wingback chair next to the bedside, studying some documents in a folder and on his handheld.

“Easy there,” he said, holding her shoulder in place. “Hurt?”

Her head hurt. She rolled an eyeball at him and squinted. “Ow.”

“By that, I take it that something hurts.”

“What happened?” Or at least that what she thought she said, but it sounded like something else, a strangled string of nonsense syllables.

“You crashed your bike and smacked into a curb.”

“Oh, yeah.” She closed her eyes again, relaxing against the pillow.

“Pain medication?”

“Yes, please.”

He shook something small and blue out of a prescription vial. “Open up.”

Obediently, she opened her lips and let him set the pill on her tongue. Then gently he held a cup with a straw for her.

“Thanks.” She watched him put the water down. Then he focused all his attention and those vibrant blue eyes on her.

“How do you feel?”

She grunted. “Like I crashed into something. Son of a bitch.” she said again.

His mouth twitched. “So when you feel bad, your language gets a little salty, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Want something to eat?”

She thought, trying to ignore his potent presence. “Yes? I think so.” She watched as he opened the door and went out into the hallway, leaving the door open. She heard something, the low hum of conversation maybe, but her head hurt and her arm hurt and her leg hurt and, shit, her side hurt. Was there anywhere that didn’t hurt, she thought crabbily, and then Ethan was back.

“She’ll be just a minute with something hot. Soup, probably.”

“Okay.” She stared around the room, something she hadn’t done last night. The skylight over the bed was covered now, with a set of soft, folding shades. Despite its size, the huge room was cozy. Decorated in shades of jet, gold, alabaster and cobalt, the room was inviting. The furniture was big, carved wood in the darkest shades, heavy and elegant simultaneously. The fabrics were luxe, without being indulgent. There was even a fireplace, looking as if it was made from some black stone shot with white streaks. Ethan’s bedroom was bigger than her apartment.

No wonder the men had insisted that she move in with them, she thought hazily. The three of them wouldn’t fit into her small bed-sit at once. She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Ethan said, softly, and sat on the edge of the bed. He picked up her hand and held it, carefully, as if she was as fragile as porcelain.

The meds were taking effect, she thought. His eyes were so very, very blue. “I was picturing the three of us in my apartment, sitting down to a meal.”

“Hmm. Nice image. Do you cook?”

“Of course. But I meant this room is bigger than my whole apartment. Maybe twice as big as my apartment. Three times as big.” She held up four fingers on her other hand.

“I get it.” He captured her hand and held that one too.

She watched Ethan smile at her. It made her feel funny, the way his eyes crinkled and glowed, and his lips looked so sexy. She knew they were warm and firm and that he knew how to kiss. She’d never been the object of so much male attention. It was weird.

“Weird,” she said. “Never had so much attention.”

He smiled more broadly, as if he understood, which she knew he couldn’t have done.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

“This is your home now.”

“Maybe,” she said.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You agreed to live with us.”

Mariella snorted. “You’re so pushy. Telling me what to do. Big ol’ man in charge. Bossy. I said thirty days.
Only
,” she insisted, grumpy with the meds. “Not my home.”

Ethan leaned closer, looking deeply into her eyes. “I can still spank you, crash or no crash. You promised, and I take you at your word.” He waited, forcing her to maintain eye contact. “This is your home, our home, now.”

“All right.” She knew she sounded pettish, but she thought suddenly she might cry. Mood swings, wow. Meds, she rationalized. “Time is it? Did you call my mother? And Manny?”

“It’s after six o’clock. In the evening. Who’s Manny?” Ethan asked.

“Boss.”

“Ah. Well, I will since you’re on bed rest for seventy-two hours. No arguments! Is Manny’s number in your cell?” Her phone had been recovered from her backpack, along with the wallet in which she had carried Ethan’s business card.

“I’ll call Anna. My mother,” she clarified. “She’ll ask too many questions if you call.”

“Bossy yourself,” Ethan returned, but concentrated on finding and dialing the messenger service. He dealt with Manny while she watched, then silently handed her his phone. “Want me to leave?” She hesitated, and he stood up. “Fine. At some point she’ll have to meet us. You know it.” He strolled out of the bedroom. “I’ll chase down that soup.”

Mari watched him go, indulging in the sight of his very fine backside in the superbly tailored trousers. She realized she’d seen him in expensive menswear and naked. Nothing in between. She spent a moment musing on what Ethan might consider casual clothing to be.

Then she shook those thoughts off, sighed, and dialed her mother’s phone number.

“Anna? It’s me.”

“Is something wrong, Mariella?” As usual her mother’s voice was preoccupied.

Mari sighed. “No, nothing is wrong. We just hadn’t talked in a week or so. How are you? How’s work?”

“The same. And yours?”

“Work’s fine. Busy. Um, so busy I may be out of touch for a couple of weeks.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve nearly saved enough for next semester’s classes. I’ll be adding hours though, because if I can complete three more classes I can take the MCATs.”

“Oh, Mari. Are you still thinking about trying to go to medical school?” Anna’s tone was irritated, and Mari took a moment to breathe before answering.

“Yes, Mama, I am. So if you don’t hear from me, don’t worry.”

“If you’d take that hostess job I offered you, I’d see you more. Practically every day.”

“I know, Mama, but I don’t want to work in a restaurant again.” Or a bar or a club. She’d had enough of that in Miami.

“All right, all right. I’ve got to get back to work.” Anna rang off, leaving Mari holding the phone. Oh, well, so much for telling her about the exciting events in her personal life. But she refused to feel even the least bit guilty at lying. To Anna, or to Ethan and Gabriel. After all, it
was
her life.

Chapter Seven

Over the next forty-eight hours, Mari discovered what it meant to have two strong-willed men focused on anticipating her every need, when those needs were limited to meds, food, drink, complete bed rest, and the kinds of limited entertainment that could come within those boundaries. Things like board games and card games and movie marathons. Granted, once they discovered her secret passion for Cary Grant, it was an all-out Grant marathon including buckets of buttery popcorn and boxes of Milk Duds, with two large masculine bodies sharing the bed, cuddled up behind or stretched alongside her. With hilarious commentary on Grant’s talents and attraction, as well as the appeal of his various leading ladies. Not surprisingly, Gabriel enjoyed Mae West’s earthy sexuality, while Ethan leaned more toward Rosalind Russell. Both men were silenced, however, by the Hitchcock classic,
Notorious
, which Mari declared her favorite Grant movie. Neither had seen it, and both hushed her during key moments.

“Damn, sugar, stop distracting me. What’s in those wine bottles?”

“She didn’t get the key back on the key ring fast enough. He’s on to her, isn’t he?”

Mari smiled, watching the two of them. As she sat propped up on pillows, Gabe had his head on her lap, crunching his way through a box of peanut toffee. Ethan sat on the other side, sipping from a glass of Irish whiskey and occasionally stealing one of her Milk Duds.

“Ingrid Bergman is one hot babe. Her chemistry with Grant is incredible. I can’t believe he’s such a jerk!”

She smacked Gabriel lightly on the head. “His character is a jerk. Keep watching, dude.”

Gabe turned amazed eyes to her. Then to Ethan. “Did you hear that?”

“I did.” Ethan nodded at her. “He is such a guy, isn’t he?”

Mari laughed. At the sound, Gabriel closed his eyes and laid a hand on his heart. “I love that sound. A genuine, sexy woman’s laugh. Do it again!” he demanded. She smiled and tugged his hair.

Ethan grumbled, “Shut up, children. I’m missing all the plot twists.”

Gabe threw a piece of toffee at him, and Ethan retaliated with a Milk Dud.

“Oh, this is a good scene!” Her hushing brought their eyes back to the screen. As they watched, Grant slipped upstairs and into his lover’s bedroom, only to find her weakened from poisoning. All three held their breath as Grant and Bergman declared their love, braved Nazi conspirators, and escaped, leaving husband Claude Rains behind to face the music.

Mari sighed as the titles rolled behind the closing music.

Gabe clicked the TV off and rolled to face her. “All right, little one?” She smiled at him again, and he took one hand and kissed it, laid it against his cheek. “I could look at you all night. Ingrid has nothing on you.” He smiled.

Ethan checked his watch. “Ten p.m. medicine alert.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do I have to? I feel so much better, and that medicine makes me woozy. Like I’ve had a six-pack of cheap beer.”

Both men frowned at her. Ethan said, “When did you drink a six-pack of bad beer?”

Mari rolled her eyes again. “Hey, Dad. I’m twenty-three. Not living in a convent, either. Or do the young elite in the Colony refrain from indulgence in likker?”

“No, just bad likker indulgence,” Gabe threw in. “Twenty-three! You’re a babe in the woods!”

“You say that like you’re eighty. I happen to know neither of you will see your thirty-second birthday for a couple of months. At least.”

“From where I sit it feels like we’re robbing the college dorm. Not that we’re reconsidering, or regretting, or wishing you were any different from what you are.” Ethan lifted her chin to look deeply in her eyes.