Mi Carino (10 page)

Sam gave it her best shot. She went as far as to threaten the deliveryman to give up Diego’s information. The man swore to them both that he had no idea how to reach the purchaser.

She went to her office door. Three deliverymen came in carrying roses, they left, and then they returned with more roses. Marcella’s mouth fell open. Garrett walked down the stairs from the upper level of the gallery and froze in horror.

“
Marcella! I’m not running a flower shop in here!”

She winced with embarrassment. They all stood there stunned as the men left, returned, and left again with more roses. By the time they were done she counted twenty vases in all.
Twenty!

“
Oh dear God he’s nuts.” She hurried out of her office. “Wait! Wait… hey you, take these back.”

“
Sorry ma’am, we can’t. Can you sign here please?”

“
Marcella, what the hell is all this?” Garrett asked turning around. “The man is evidently trying to reach you. Call him before he turns my place into some kind of tacky Greek garden.”

She signed for the delivery and took the card, ripping it out for an explanation. It had a two-word message even stranger than the first.
One more.

“
Marcella?”

“
Garrett, please! I can’t make him stop! I don’t know him. Oh never mind!” she huffed in frustration storming back into her office and slamming the door.

Sam laughed. “Whoever he is, he sure does like red. Give a girl a white rose or something.”

Garrett threw up his hands and walked away.

Day Three –

“
This here is a white marble figure of Marie Adelaide de Savoie entitled Huntress.”

“
Doesn’t she look like a barbarian?” The older woman frowned. She ran her fingers over her mink shawl pinned in place by a diamond broach, as she spoke through her nose.

Marcella smiled. “She’s the Princess of Savoy. She was the mother of King Louis XV and after marriage became the Dauphine of France.”

“
I know of her.” The patron’s husband drawled with eyes sharp and beady, and a nose like that of a beagle. It was inflamed and red from the constant rubbing of his monogrammed handkerchief. “She died of measles in 1712 followed by her husband a week later.” The older man kept sneezing and sniffing. His wife stepped to the statue.

“
Interesting, do you ship overseas? I’d like to see it in my chateau in France.”

Marcella grimaced. The risk and expense in a delivery was something she’d like to avoid. “Of course it can be arranged.”

The couple moved on to the next art piece. The door to the front of the gallery opened and a deliveryman in a khaki brown uniform with a green logo on the sleeve stepped in with flowers. She nearly freaked. Flowers were everywhere. She couldn’t give away the vases crammed in her office or in Garrett’s. At first her boss thought her admirer was suave, but now Diego had been labeled ‘that flower guy bastard’. Sam and Garrett had running jokes. They offered a free rose to any person that visited the gallery. Without Susan there to run interference they were working up constant headaches for her today.

“
Please excuse me. Take your time and browse.”

Marcella put down a mean strut as she marched to the guy. Sam grinned up at her from behind her desk, trying to sound serious. “Look, she doesn’t want them. Leave them outside or something.”

The man turned with an arm full of white roses. The most beautiful she’d ever seen. They were wrapped in a white cellophane cone, with large full bulbs. “Are you Marcella?”

“
Yes I am.”

“
Sign here please.”

“
Are there more? I don’t want any more. I called your flower shop and told them to stop bringing them.”

“
Huh? No. This is the delivery ma’am. Will you sign for them please?”

She accepted her gift. She looked back. Garrett chatted up the prospective buyers.

“
Same guy huh?” Sam asked.

“
Cover for me.” She removed the card hurrying to her office, the large white bulbs bounced in their cellophane wrapping. She wanted to read the message, alone. Since their first arrival, everyone hovered to see her reaction, to ask questions she didn’t know the answers to.

Maybe this time she’d get a bigger clue. She withdrew the little card and it read:

Chance…

--Diego

Marcella walked around her desk and set the flowers down. She then drew back to the top drawer to retrieve the past cards. She laid them all out.

Forgive me…

Give me…

One more…

Chance…

--Diego

Dropping back in her chair she reclined as far back as she could and smiled. “Clever, clever, clever,” she chuckled. Then she shot upright. Plucking the last card, it slipped from her fingers and fell over. There was a phone number scrawled on the back. She stared at it for a second, and then reached for her cellphone that lay on top of the desk.

“
Hello Marcella.”

“
Why are you doing this?”

“
The door, love.”

Marcella rose from her desk. She walked out of her office and looked out of the large gallery windows. The delivery van pulled away, and a black car pulled up in its space. “Is that you?” she asked. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“
I travelled the boardwalk looking for your gallery, in search of my Marcella, the Afro-Cuban.”

“
Your Marcella?” She scoffed, but kept smiling. “I told you I’m half Cuban.”

“
I like the half.” came his smoky reply.

The buyers were leaving. “Is that your flower guy?” Garrett asked.

“
I’m on my way,” Marcella grabbed her purse and coat. Crazy as it seemed she didn’t hesitate, not for a second. She hurried down the steps with her heels click-clacking over the floors. “Are you leaving?” Garrett asked.

“
I need to take care of this before the man shuts us down with these flowers. Can you handle the day?”

Garrett smirked. “I’ll do my best hun. Remember I’m no salesman I just pay the light bill.”

“
Behave, both of you.” Marcella pointed at Sam who shrugged.  She winked at Garrett then pushed open the gallery door, letting the cold wet air wash over her. The rain had stopped, but the moisture still instantly flattened her hair. A driver stood on the sidewalk, the door to a Cadillac behind him. A different driver than the one she saw before. She quickly hurried over. Before climbing in she glanced back to see Garrett and Sam through the gallery window, watching her with lopsided grins to their faces. She smiled. It was kind of exciting to be pursued again.

“
Thank you.” Marcella slipped inside. Those dark soulful eyes of his turned from the window to take her in. He rested his elbow at the sill, his pointer finger to his temple, thumb under his chin. She had wanted to see him again, if for anything, for the chance to give him a piece of her mind. But now, she was reduced to a flutter of excitement and nerves, which robbed her of the ability to speak.

“
Nice,” Diego said.

“
Gracias Señor Diego
.”

A sudden flash of warmth sparked in his stare. “You look beautiful.” He mouthed. For a brief moment she forgot what a jerk he was the last time she saw him. The compliments made her blush and sit up straight, breasts forward. Today she wore a grey pleated skirt. She crossed her legs. Her actions caused her skirt to move back further, his brow lifted, so she uncrossed them nervously. The skirt was shorter than its conservative intent, therefore, both leg and thigh were revealed. She tugged at the hem to be careful of showing her garter stocking. Pantyhose were so blasé but she felt so feminine in garters and the weather required she cover up. Her powder blue silk blouse had a matching silk scarf that she tied under the neck. Sucking in a deep air of confidence she returned her gaze to him. “I want you to stop. I came out here to tell you not to send another flower. My boss will go insane with hay fever. It’s over the top what you’ve done, too much.”

“
You brought your purse and coat to tell me bye?”

The car drove out on the half-thawed road away from Market Street and the boardwalk. Marcella set her coat and purse between them. She preferred the barrier. “Cute, real cute,” she said. She should have let him offer her lunch or request her company formally first, then torture him some. But instead she ran out the door with all her things, ready for whatever. She sucked at this mating dance.

Diego didn’t seem displeased. He appeared sharply dressed, as expected, in a tailored grey pinstripe suit and vest again. The open collar of his shirt revealed his olive tanned neck and chest. His hair was combed back from his face, eyes still compelling and focused solely on her.

“
The flowers were the least I could do for upsetting you.”

“
Is that an apology?”

Diego smirked. “I don’t know the word.”

“
Okay. Driver! Please stop the car.”

“
Calm down beautiful. For you, yes.” He added quickly. He placed his hand on her.
Directly to her thigh!
He just reached over her barrier and touched her. Marcella looked down at his advance. She froze. His palm warm, and firm. His fingers reached to move the hem of her skirt, with nails manicured, short and even. Marcella met his stare and swallowed her objection.  

“
Please accept my apology.”

“
I do.”

“
And
gracias
for a second chance.”

“
I figured you deserve a chance to prove me wrong.”

His left brow lifted. The car veered off the main road to one that winded upward through tall Redwoods and the mountains. Diego’s palm slipped to her inner thigh. Suddenly she wished she hadn’t chosen to wear a skirt, this frisky garment in particular.

“
Wrong? What about?”

“
That I’m a jerk magnet. Seems I attract them by the droves. Could you please remove your hand?”

“
No.”

“
What?”

“
No, you aren’t a jerk magnet,” he said with an easy smirk.
Did he not hear
her
me?
Irritated she grabbed his hand and removed it from her thigh. Diego gave her a long look but obeyed her wishes. “Where are we going?”