Making Mina 2: Strings Attached (3 page)

No one could argue with that.  Marco was definitely a good-looking man.

“What I don’t understand,” she said, “is why a pick-up in a bar ended up with him playing Fairy Godfather at the museum today.”

Ivy tucked a long, straight strand of hair behind her ear and set her bottle down.  She fixed Mina with the same look that deciphered two thousand year old petroglyphs, and Mina squirmed amidst the Marimekko.

“That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question, you know?  I admit it: I left without saying goodbye, but, so what?  That’s not a crime.  Men run out after one-night stands all the time.”

Ivy didn’t say anything, so Mina went on.

“What did he expect?  Here he comes all sexy and Italian, touching me and kissing me and telling me he’s been waiting for me…  I swear, if I’d been a little more drunk we’d probably have had sex before we even left the bar!”

Ivy jerked up at that.  “He took advantage of you because you were drunk?  That’s terrible!  I didn’t realize…”

Mina held up a hand and headed off the rampaging Fury disguised as her best friend.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that.  I was tipsy, but I knew what I was doing.  And he didn’t force anything; it was just kind of crazy.  I mean, one minute I was explaining that Ethan was screwing someone else because I was frigid, and the next he’d managed to drag those fingers of his over half a dozen spots and turned me into a puddle of goo.  Not even goo… it was like my insides were melting out between my legs—I’ve never been so turned on in my life, and I 
still
 don’t know how he did it! I had zero control.  Zero!  Four years with Ethan and I never felt like that, and with him, what?  Fifteen minutes and I’m agreeing to go home with him?  It was insane.”

Confusion replaced anger on Ivy’s face.

“Let me see if I understand this.  You wanted to pick someone up.  You went to Ethan’s favorite bar to do it so you could maximize the gossip potential.  Marco Genovese came in, let you pick him up, took you home with him, made you come your brains out, and in the morning when he expected you to stay, you snuck out without so much as ‘goodbye.’ Then, he tracks you down at work and instead of telling you off for running out on him, he offers you the opportunity of a lifetime, possibly making your career. The career, may I remind you, that you tossed away when you decided to marry the son-of-a-bitch who started this fun house ride by cheating on you?” She threw her hands up in the air.  “Of course--it’s all so clear to me now! How
 dare
 he be so nice to you?”

Mina flushed.  “When you say it like that it sounds stupid, but you have to understand.  I had to leave.  I 
had
 to.”

Ivy pushed away from the table, shaking her head.

“I understand,” she said.  “I understand that you’ve spent four years being an emotional punching bag for that asshole Ethan, and when a real man comes along, someone capable of getting through that wall you’ve built up around yourself, you’re so scared of making another mistake you don’t realize it might just be the best thing that could happen to you.”

She walked around the corner of the table and stood in front of Mina.

“Be honest.  If I told you a story about a guy picking up a girl in a bar—someone who really liked him—who, after a night of hot and heavy action, crept away in the early morning without a word, what would you think?”

Mina scooted to the edge of the seat, and buried her face in her hands.

“I’d think he was a right bastard who deserved to have his ass kicked.”

Ivy patted her arm.  “Right.  So now we know where 
you
 are.  What about Marco Genovese?  Do you think this exhibit deal is really some complicated method of getting even?”

Mina looked at it from every angle she could.  Would Marco really go to such lengths to get even?  Yes.  Would he be this underhanded about it?  Fear warred with logic for a minute, but logic won out. Marco might be ruthless, but if he wanted to destroy someone’s career, he’d be much more direct about it.  If he wanted to make you suffer, you’d suffer and know exactly who was causing it and why.

“I don’t think so.  I can’t know for certain, but honestly, it doesn’t seem like his style.”

Ivy looked thoughtful for a moment.

“How much does he know about you? Did he know that you didn’t finish your degree because you were getting married?” 

He knows more than he should
, Mina thought. 

“He told me he’d asked about me after the party Ethan’s office threw.  And he obviously knows enough to show up in our office, so yes, he probably knows about my questionable academic decisions. I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” It was a touchy subject for Mina, one she and Ivy had argued about more than enough in the past.  “It isn’t like he’s sending me back to school. I’m telling you, this isn’t just some noble gesture on his part. He’s holding this exhibit, and your career, and Dr. Peabody’s career over my head, either because he wants to punish me for walking out on him, or because he wants me back in his bed.  Either way I’m screwed.”

She flopped back into the chair with a defiant look on her face, trying not to think about what being 
screwed
 by Marco Genovese might entail.

Ivy cocked her head to one side and wondered.  It wasn’t like Mina to over-react.  If she had to guess, she’d say Mr. Marco Genovese had gotten a lot farther under her friend’s skin than she was willing to admit. There was no point in pushing it, though.  Only time would tell.

“Well, since you put it that way I only have one thing left to say.” Ivy let her hair fall back down over her face to hide her smile, as she walked out of their living room.

Mina looked after her warily.  “And what is that, perchance?”

Ivy stopped at the door to her bedroom and turned.  A little bright eye peeped out and Mina knew she was in trouble.

“It’s ten after seven and you have less than an hour to get ready for dinner.”  She grinned at the look of panic that spread across Mina’s face as she bolted up out of her chair. “I have a kick-ass little black dress if you’d like to borrow it.”

Chapter Three

“I believe that covers it.”

Mina slid the last contract into its file with trembling hands and prayed for the evening to end.  Dinner had been excruciating; the food was excellent, the wine luxurious, the service exquisite, and Mina? Mina was in hell. 

Marco had arrived at Ivy’s house in the outskirts of Miami precisely at eight.  He presented her with a file that was at least an inch thick full of pictures and photocopies of documents pertaining to the Genovese collection.  For fifteen long minutes Mina had stood in her borrowed finery—tight black with more buckles than a Pilgrim convention—without Marco saying so much as, “Hello.”  Well, at least not to her.  With Ivy he was charm itself.

“Excellent,” Marco said, refilling the wine glasses.  “You have been most,” he paused as if searching for the word, “diligent.”  His eyes skimmed over her, never meeting her gaze.  Mina felt two spots of color burn high on her cheekbones
.  This is ridiculous
, she thought angrily.  
He’s acting like nothing happened between us
.  She grabbed her glass from him and downed a hasty gulp.  She didn’t know what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it.

You knew what you expected
, the voice in her head whispered.  
You expected him to have his hand up your skirt before the appetizer course was over.  You’re just disappointed that he’s been all business.  You must not have made as much of an impression on him as you thought
.

Mina’s hand shook a little more as she thought about Marco tracing his fingers along the inside of her thigh, sliding higher and higher, and she put her glass down with a snap.

“Is everything alright?” He inquired his face blandly polite. “You seem a trifle distressed.”

“Everything is fine,” she said.  “And I am not distressed.  It’s just a little 
warm
 in here.”  A corkscrew curl had escaped the knot she’d wrestled her hair into with Ivy’s assistance and she brushed it out of her face. Marco’s gaze traveled over her skin and she felt like she was burning up.

“Since we’ve covered all of the requirements from the museum’s end, is there anything else that you would like to discuss?  Any other concerns you might have?”  She smiled so widely her cheeks hurt, but she’d be damned if she let him see how nervous she was. “Once the contracts are in place, everything else usually follows like clockwork, but I want to make sure you’re satisfied with the arrangements.”

Marco’s eyes finally met hers, holding her gaze for a long, silent moment.

“Contracts 
are
 very important,” he said finally.  “Verbal agreements are too easy to break.”

Mina winced at the hardness in his tone.

And here it comes,
 she thought. At least he already signed the contracts for the museum.  Even if he decided to throw her off the project, Ivy and Dr. Peabody should be fine.

“Verbal agreements only work between equals,” Mina said, hoping the subtext was clear enough to make him back off.  She wasn’t going to allow this man, no matter how good he was in bed, to dictate her behavior. “There has to be trust before the parties involved can accept things at face value.”

Mina watched the handsome face across the table darken, and she knew she’d offended him somehow.

 “Trust is hard to come by.  But then, some people simply throw trust away.” His lip twisted in a ghost of a sneer. “Apparently preferring to take what they can get and then cut their losses.”

Mina couldn’t believe him—making it out like she’d taken advantage of 
him
. Honestly! Like she could have made him do a damned thing he didn’t want to do.  She leaned across the table and pointed a finger at him.

“Hang on a second. It wasn’t like that!”  Marco raised an exquisitely arched eyebrow but said nothing.  “You want to talk about this, fine, but let’s stop pretending this is about anything but your hurt pride. You’re angry.  I get that.  I left without saying goodbye. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.”  Marco’s shoulders relaxed a little and she could see the beginnings of a satisfied look on his face.  That would never do. “But, let me make one thing clear.  You 
told
 me to stay; I did 
not
 agree.  I did 
not
 
promise
 to stick around.  I might have implied, or inferred, or whatever the proper term is, but I never promised 
anything
. It was a one night stand.  Nothing more.”

Marco went still, and Mina pulled back from where she’d leaned in to whisper angrily at him.  His eyes glittered in the light of the candles flickering on the table, and she felt a moment’s panic as she realized just who she was confronting.  
This isn’t how this evening was supposed to go
, she thought wildly.
 Oh please
, her subconscious snorted, 
this is exactly where you wanted this evening to go.

“Maybe that’s what you tell yourself,” Marco said with a curt inclination of his head.  “Maybe you need that distance.  But I don’t like it when others try to dictate rules to me, and I
 did
 make promises that night.”  He leaned forward and Mina felt the pull of him, the attraction as taut as piano wire strung between them. “Promises I fully intend to keep.”

“Pro-o-mises?” Mina’s voice cracked. What was he talking about?  She didn’t remember any promises.  He talked—oh how he talked!—describing things he wanted to do to her, places he wanted to show her, dizzying possibilities, yes, but not promises.

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember, Mina 
mia
,” Marco said, a playful disappointment coloring his voice before it deepened again, “because I remember every word—every whisper, every plea.”

His voice was weaving a spell around her and Mina had to break it.  She grabbed her glass and swallowed a huge mouthful of the fruity, tannin-laden wine, barely tasting it.  Her legs were trembling under the table, and she could feel her body betraying her.  Her heart raced and her breath quickened, and she ached with a longing for the pleasure Marco had wrung from her.

“Tell me you don’t think about that night,” he said, almost as if he could read her mind. His hand rested, dark against the white tablecloth, and Mina’s eyes were drawn to it, watching the patterns he drew on the smooth surface, remembering how those same fingers drew tracer-fire laced patterns on her skin. He lowered his voice, “Tell me that right this minute you aren’t wet from the idea of me bending you over this table right now and taking you.  Don’t try to lie, either,” his lips twisted in a mockery of a smile, “I can practically smell you—your need, and your desire.  It’s as plain as the nose on your beautiful face.”

Mina whimpered as images of him doing just that raced through her mind, liquid heat pooling between her legs.

“I told you before, very plainly if I remember correctly, that I regretted letting you go that first night we met.”  A look of polite disinterest covered his face, but his voice gave him away.  “I could have pushed—pried you away from that limpet you called your fiancé—but you would have always blamed yourself and I didn’t want that.”

Mina nodded absently, his words too true to deny.  He was right; if she’d cheated on Ethan she’d never have been able to live with herself.  It was almost disturbing that Marco understood her so clearly, so quickly.

“But now,” a smile began to show, “you have no ties, no obligations.  There is no one standing between me and what I want.”  The smile became predatory, white teeth gleaming in the low light.  “I want you, Mina 
mia
, and I intend to have you.”

Mina tried to feel offended—his arrogance was astounding—but she couldn’t.  Ivy was right: 
she
 was the one who took what she wanted and then walked away.  Marco still wanted her, for whatever reason, and it was only her own insecurity standing in their way. 

“So this exhibit,” she said, forcing moisture into her mouth, “is what? Leverage?  Something to keep me in line?” Mina didn’t want to hear the answer, but she had to ask.