From Barcelona, with Love (29 page)

*   *   *

Just then, Lorenza
made her entrance.

Mac could not fail to notice that she looked all long brown legs in her white shorts and that the shirt tied under her breasts left an alluring brown gap any man would want to put his hands around. Not him, of course.

“There you are.” She smiled at him. “I had some business to take care of, sorry I'm late.”

“You're not late, he just came down. Buena gave him breakfast in bed.” Paloma ran over and took her hand, holding it affectionately to her cheek.

Lorenza wished she had been the one giving Mac breakfast in bed. She had spent the long night torn between keeping her memories and never running after a man, and longing to run down the corridor to him, into his room, into his arms. Now, looking at him, she knew that's exactly what she should have done. She had missed her golden opportunity and knew it might never come again. Unless she arranged it, that is. A woman like her was never short of inventive ways to catch a man.

“Anyway, Mac's late,” Cherrypop said. “He's just coming down from breakfast and we already had lunch. Anyhow, I'm starving again.”

Lorenza laughed. She really loved those two children. She was glad Paloma was here with her and that finally, she could protect her from that bastard of a stepfather. She needed to ask Mac what was going on, if anything. Maybe the famous detective wasn't going to solve this problem after all.

“Girls, I have to talk business with Mac,” she said. “Why don't you go for a swim, or play tennis.” They ran off, delighted, and she said to Mac, “I'll have Buena fix some sangria, there's nothing like it on a hot afternoon. Come, let's go sit on the grass, in the shade, then we'll talk.”

The plaid rug was still there, under the tree, and Lorenza collapsed gracefully onto it, giving Mac that seductive smile again. “Tell me all about Sunny,” she said, taking him by surprise.

“What do you want to know?” He didn't like talking about Sunny to Lorenza.

“Who she is. What she looks like. Is she in love with you?” She paused and gave him that long keen look again. “More importantly, are
you
in love with her?”

“Lorenza. Please.” Mac sat on the rug next to her. “I can't talk to you about this, it's none—”

“None of my business. But, don't you see, I'd like it to be my business.”

“It can't. I can't. My lovely Lorenza, I will always remember you—
us
—but time and life have moved on.” He didn't want to talk about Juan Pedro, and nor did she. She was concentrating on Mac and Mac was concentrating on Sunny, wishing with all his heart he could get on the night plane and in a few hours be with her. Why hadn't she called him, anyway?

Buena walked across the lawn toward them, carrying the jug of sangria and two big round goblets. They fell silent while she put the tray down then poured each of them a glass, making sure the lemon and orange slices floated on top.

“This is our Spanish specialty,” Lorenza told him as Buena handed him an icy goblet. “Red wine—our own, of course—lemonade, a hint of brandy, fruit … perfect in this heat.”

She fanned herself, watching as he tasted it. “Good,” he said. Then, “Back to the real business of Paloma. Lorenza, I have to stop Peretti from coming here, and I have to stop him from finding Bibi. Tell me, do you know a man named Rodolfo Hernandez?”

She sat up straighter. “Of course I know Rodolfo. He was a good friend of Juan Pedro's, he's managed our business affairs for decades. But don't tell me Rodolfo has something to do with Bibi's disappearance.” She was genuinely shocked. “He's an honest man, noble, the best,” she added fiercely. “Rodolfo would never do anything wrong.”

“I'm not suggesting he has, only that he might be able to help.” Mac was not about to tell her he thought Juan Pedro's old friend might indeed be helping his tragic daughter. That was what friendship was all about. He asked Lorenza if she knew where he lived and she told him no, but she had the address and number of his office in Andorra, and that of his offices in Madrid.

“He's an important man in the financial world,” she said, thoughtfully. “He must have known Bibi since she was a child. He was much closer to Juan Pedro in those early days. Before my time,” she added with a rueful smile.

Sometimes, like now, Mac had to really like Lorenza. It had nothing to do with him loving her all those years ago, that was simply pure youthful passion—or impure, as it turned out. But there was a fierce element of goodness in her that emerged when she was thinking about Paloma, and not about herself.

She reached for the jug of sangria and topped up their drinks. “I'll go get those numbers for you,” she said, getting gracefully to her feet and striding, fast, long-legged in the shorts, back to the house.

She was gone a long time. Mac checked his watch. He needed to make that call to Rodolfo Hernandez as soon as possible. He guessed Lorenza must have gotten waylaid by some vineyard business or other. He drank the sangria down and lay back on the plaid rug, thinking about Bruno Peretti and how he could get to him before he got to Bibi, and how he could nail him for the murder. What he needed was a motive. He needed to know exactly
why
Peretti had done it. One thing he was sure of, it wasn't simply for the money. He would have been better off staying with Bibi and taking her to court for every cent he could get. Murder was not the solution.

It was pleasant in the shade, watching leaves fluttering over his head giving a brief glimpse of sky here and there, blue as Sunny's eyes.
No,
wait a minute, Sunny had brown eyes, golden-brown eyes … his own eyes closed and fatigue, sleepless nights, and jet lag took him over.

*   *   *

Paloma and Cherrypop
were hanging out her bedroom window, watching him. Actually, they had been watching him and Lorenza. “You wait,” Cherrypop had told Paloma, “she's gonna kiss him any minute.”

“No!” Paloma exclaimed, horrified.

“That's what grown-ups do,” Cherrypop added. “Besides, she's so hot for him.” She had heard her mom use that expression and kind of liked it—hot for him—sounded like sunshine on a warm day to her though she guessed it really meant sex. Not that she was exactly sure what sex meant either but it was endlessly fascinating to grown-ups so it must be interesting.

“I wonder when we'll feel like that,” she said to Paloma, who was kneeling on the window seat cushion, still peeking at Mac.

“Like what?” Paloma adjusted the tiny binoculars Jassy had given her when she was in her bird-watching phase. They were so small you could have watched many birds through them, but Jassy was never practical.

“Y'know,
hot
?”

“I don't want to ever be ‘hot,'” Paloma said firmly.

“My friend … my
other
friend…” Cherrypop adjusted her words hurriedly so as not to offend her friend Paloma. “Anyhow, my friend at school said it's when boys want to get into your underpants.”

Paloma turned to look at her, surprised. “Why on earth would they want to do that?”

“Because that's what boys like.” Cherrypop was an authority now.

“That's weird,” Paloma said, returning her loving gaze to Mac. “I do believe he's sleeping,” she said finally. “He hasn't moved in the past half hour. Uh-uh, here comes Lorenza.”

Cherrypop joined her on the seat cushion. She hung her head out the window too.

“I bet she's gonna kiss him. You know, like Sleeping Beauty.”

“That was the prince waking the princess. Women don't do the kissing anyhow. Men do it.”

“How do you know?” Cherrypop asked, adjusting the short cheerleader skirt her mom had brought back from the States last year. Her knees were starting to hurt and this game was getting boring.

“Everybody knows that.”

They fell silent, watching Lorenza lope barefoot over the grass. When she reached the plaid blanket, she stopped and looked down at Mac, lying on his back, eyes closed, sleeping the sleep of pure exhaustion.

Without another moment's hesitation Lorenza lay down next to him. She moved closer, turning her body sideways, fully stretched out alongside him. She put her head on his shoulder, snuggling into him, then she gently placed her leg over his, crooking her knee so that it came in intimate contact with him. Sighing, she smiled. She was where she belonged, back in Mac's arms.

“Oh my God,” Cherrypop said. “Did you just see what she did?”

“Oh my God, I do. I
did
see.” Paloma and Cherrypop looked at each other, stunned, then turned to look out the window again, at the big black limo slowly making its way up the drive.

 

Chapter 42

Bodega de Ravel

The long black
Mercedes sped silently up the two-lane private road and then there the house was, low and white and serene in the evening sun. In front was a huge tree, cork oak, said Ron, who knew about these things since he had become a winemaker.

A table was placed in its spreading shade with a tray of glasses and a frosty-looking jug containing what Sunny thought looked like sangria, the winey/cognac mixture that was truly Spanish. The chairs had been pushed back and a plaid blanket was spread on the ground. And on that blanket lay Mac, on his back, eyes closed, seemingly fast asleep. And with his arm around a woman. Her head was tucked into his shoulder and her leg flung across his body.
Exactly the way Sunny always did with Mac when they were in bed. Together.

“Don't look,” Allie said quickly. “It's all a mistake, I know Mac can explain.”

“Oh, God,”
Sunny said as the car pulled up in front of the house and Ron got quickly out and marched back over the lawn to the shade tree.

“Oh, God,”
she said again, rolling down the window and turning to watch. Mac was scrambling to his feet, a surprised smile on his face.

“Well, if it isn't my old friend Ron,” they heard him say, as he grasped Ron's hand and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “In fact I've come specially to meet
your
old friend.”

Lorenza quickly took in the limo with the blackened windows. She guessed Sunny had arrived to corral her love, and took it smoothly in her experienced stride. She got gracefully to her feet, gave Ron a warm smile, and offered her hand.

“I'm so glad to meet you,” she said. “Yes, I
am
an old friend of Mac's. And I'm sorry you caught us napping, a little too much sangria I'm afraid.”

More like too much Lorenza, Ron thought, recalling her long brown leg flung over Mac as he dozed.

Back in the limo Sunny grabbed Allie. “Maybe we should just leave,” she said, suddenly calm. “I mean, is this it? Is it over between us?”

Just then an excited shout came from the steps, the front door was flung open, and Paloma and Cherrypop came racing to see who had arrived.

“Oh, it's
you
!” Paloma shrieked as Sunny rolled down the window. “It's
you
! You're really here. Did you bring Pirate and Tesoro?”

“Not this time,” Sunny said, smiling in spite of everything because who could resist such a wholehearted welcome.

“This is Cherrypop,” Paloma said quickly.

“And this is Allie,” Sunny said.

“Oh my God.” It was Cherrypop this time. “
Oh my God,
you're … the
movie star.
”

“Not anymore,” Allie said modestly.

Looking out the window she saw Ron walking toward the car with Mac and Lorenza de Ravel, who looked stunning in white shorts with a white shirt knotted under her breasts, leaving an enticing slice of bare brown midriff that exactly matched the color of her long brown legs. Her flip-flops were white and so were her sunglasses, which Allie thought a bit of a cheap touch. In her experience only hookers and teenagers ever wore
white
sunglasses.

She turned and quickly checked Sunny out: a simple blue chambray shirtdress, perfect for the country, just above the knee, with legs that were certainly as good as Lorenza de Ravel's; a simple string of pearls that nowhere matched the triple row of large ones around Lorenza's long neck; soft white Gucci moccasins, and her trademark red lipstick.

“You can take her on any day,” she whispered in Sunny's ear.

“And I might have to,” Sunny said, watching Mac slip his hand under Lorenza's elbow as they approached.

“Look, look, Mac! Look who's here,” Paloma yelled, excited.

Mac peered in the car window. He saw Allie, and Sunny next to her, and straightened up. He took a step back. “Sunny, am I glad to see you. The cavalry's here,” he said to Ron, grinning.

“I certainly hope we got here in time,” Allie said, as Mac opened the door and she stepped out.

“Trust me, Allie, you did,” he said, but it was Sunny he was looking at, over Allie's shoulder. He saw from her frozen face she did not believe him.

“Welcome to the de Ravel bodega. Welcome to my home.” Lorenza's voice came from behind Mac. “But of course, I
know
who you are,” she said to Allie, looking pleased. “I've always admired you, and now I get to meet you and you're even more beautiful than on-screen. Your husband told me you're old friends of Mac's. How on earth did you find him, out here in the countryside?”

“He's not the only detective around,” Ron said as Sunny emerged from the limo, swinging her long legs out gracefully, knees together, then standing in one smooth elegant motion to her full height that, she was pleased to note, was at least a couple of inches taller than Lorenza de Ravel, who was at least twice as beautiful as she'd expected with that cloud of dark hair floating around a face that was not perfect but caught the eye with its drama.