Once a Marine (15 page)

BD could barely breathe. What would Rafi think if he knew she’d allowed herself to be bullied by Nick into taking a medication that some claimed caused a spontaneous abortion? Blood drained from her head. She could never let him find out. Never. A strong woman, she hated herself for letting Nick manipulate her, but, in retrospect, the thought of having a baby with Nick would have been a disaster for both her and the child.

“Anyway, it’s the covert ‘Mission Impossible’ work that Lightfoot and Taps do. That scares the heck out of me.”

“What? Who are Lightfoot and Taps?”

“Oh, I thought you knew their nicknames from when they were in Marines Special Ops.”

“No, Rafi never mentioned it. What odd names. What do they mean?”

“Rafi is Lightfoot because, as big as he is, he can sneak up on anybody without a sound. Joe is Taps. Once Joe has a bad guy in his crosshairs you might as well play Taps because it’s lights out.”

“Hmmm, I wonder why Rafi never mentioned that.”

Jill shivered. “Whew, after that last rescue operation—Rafi nearly getting killed—I put my foot down. Joe is OK with it. He told me he’d been thinking about easing out of those kinds of jobs. He’s happy to hang it up and leave those adventures to younger guys. Joe and Rafi will both be thirty-seven this year.”

Mission Impossible work? Nearly getting killed? Rafi was definitely holding out on her. She wasn’t the only one with a secret. “I guess they can’t talk much about what they do, huh?”

“No. The last thing they need is for their identity to be revealed, and then some bad guys maybe targeting them for revenge. Thoughts like that kept me awake at night when they were away…God knew where…for weeks at a time.”

Trying to get her thoughts together, and eager for more information, BD said, “I noticed Rafi’s bullet wound is nicely healed.”

Jill flipped her hand. “Oh, that bullet wound has been fine for a couple of years. This last one was their Philippines assignment. The shrapnel in Rafi’s leg and him nearly bleeding out—that’s what was so scary about the last time. Joe and the other men had to carry him for miles out of that godforsaken jungle. They didn’t think Rafi was going to make it.”

Jill looked up and smiled when the waitress set the plate in front of her. “This smells great. I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

The waitress nodded. “Complete satisfaction or it’s free. Enjoy.” Then she set down BD’s plate. “Be right back with fresh coffee.”

Jill cut into her blintz. “Thanks for recommending this.” She took a bite and sighed. “Oh, it’s so good.”

BD sat in stony silence. She didn’t touch her silverware or her coffee. Deep shock stole her appetite…the food on her plate sickened her. Hair on her neck and arms prickled. Shrapnel…jungle… bleeding. The words slammed around in her brain.

“Is something wrong with your order?” Jill studied her with an expression of concern.

BD stared out the window. “No, it’s Rafi. He told me he got mugged.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not true. I asked him if he got mugged and he said, ‘In a manner of speaking.’ I had no idea what really happened. I
assumed
he got shot by a mugger. What were they doing in a jungle somewhere?”

Jill’s face went white and she put her fork down. “Oh dear, I had no idea you didn’t know. I’ve said way too much. You need to ask Rafi. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m really sorry.”

BD shook her head slowly. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell me. He’s so damn frustrating to talk to. It’s like pulling teeth to get him to open up.”

Jill reached across the table and touched BD’s hand. “He didn’t lie to you. They’re very close-mouthed about that work. I’m sure he didn’t want you to worry. Joe told me that Rafi’s never been serious about another woman. Just you.” She took a deep breath. “I have a big mouth. I’m sorry I said what I did. You and Rafi need to talk.”

“Talk? I don’t even know where he is. I haven’t heard from him in over a week. I’m leaving for New York tomorrow and I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

* * *

In New York, and still no word from Rafi, BD got busy to get her mind off him. Once settled in the company apartment she went to the Bergdorf Goodman building to have her hair cut at the John Barrett Salon. Their haircuts started at two hundred dollars, but the stylist Shari recommended charged double that amount. The result—a very short, four-hundred-dollar stylish cut with a boyish flair. The man convinced BD she could pull it off. She had the perfect face and figure for it, and “It’s just hair, honey.” Maybe, but she nearly choked when signing her credit card charge.

The salon took before-and-after photos and gave her the prints. The cashier gushed how much she looked like a young Audrey Hepburn. “Your eyes really pop, honey. You look great.”

BD had no idea how much to tip for such an expensive haircut. She didn’t want to appear like a country bumpkin, so she swallowed and wrote seventy-five dollars on the credit card slip. She walked out the door thinking she probably tipped too much and looked like a country bumpkin anyway.

Next she purchased a stylish fall jacket and a pair of sleek boots. In the mirror of the shop she turned this way and that. She definitely projected the image of a genuine New York professional woman. It took her less than half a day to spend half a month’s salary. She clenched her teeth when she thought how much money she blew through.

Back at the apartment she found Enzo pacing. “BD,
cara
, you’re in time. A friend gave me tickets for Il Volo for tonight! They’re singing at Radio City, one night only. I was afraid you’d be too late. Hurry, we must go now.”

He pulled on his jacket, stopped, and studied her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her in a circle for the full effect of her up-to-the-minute haircut. Facing her, his eyes moved slowly from the top of her head to the toes of her new black boots. “Oh, yes, yes, you look fabulous.” He pulled her close and kissed her on each cheek. “I love you, my darling BD.”

She laughed and pushed him away. “Cut it out, you big flirt. What is Il Volo?”

He took her shopping bags and set them by the closet, grasped her arm and steered her out the door. “You like Italian opera, yes?”

“We’re going to an opera?” She pulled in her chin, a wide-eyed skeptic.

Enzo tapped the elevator button. “No. The music only. A famous trio of singing Italian boys. They are becoming world-famous now. They sing arias and some contemporary songs. I think you like it very much.”

“What about dinner?” It was past six, and her stomach grumbled. Even Rafi’s silent disappearance hadn’t dampened her appetite.

“First a private reception in the lobby. Plenty to eat and drink.” He stepped into the elevator with her and jabbed the ground-floor button. “If you’re still hungry after, I’ll take you to a very special place.
Bene
,
bene.
You love it!”

After eleven, BD and Enzo strolled arm-in-arm down the street toward the apartment, laughing and talking. He teased her about her
grosso
boyfriend, finally declaring, “
Basta, basta
,” when she said Rafi was twice Enzo’s size and could snap him like a twig if he got out of line.

She squeezed his arm against her side. “As long as you behave you have nothing to worry about.”

As the doorman opened the lobby door, BD caught a glimpse of a man walking past the building, a dead ringer for her old boyfriend. But she knew it couldn’t be him, Nick was in LA. She hadn’t heard a peep since Jack had accompanied her, when she returned from Oahu, to pick up her belongings at the apartment she used to share with Nick.

Enzo had done a great job in the design studio at Haven. He fit right at home with the staff. He gave special deference to the design department manager, whose position he’d preempted. He made sure the woman was comfortable with the new arrangement and felt secure in her job. They worked well together as partners.

Universally liked, Enzo offered subtle suggestions and changes. The collection now carried a youthful European flavor.

BD reinforced Shari’s vision of folding Haven into Grayson, reassuring the employees that Haven’s unique approach to garment design and their professional staff made every one of them valuable to the company. There would be no terminations or early retirements.

Peggy Marotta, former owner of Haven, would be absent for some time as she recuperated from pneumonia. BD took the reins of the company and scheduled several staff meetings where she encouraged the free exchange of ideas. She listened closely, offering an opinion or comment only if asked.

She spent hours on the phone with Shari keeping her up to date. In addition she prepared comprehensive summaries after every staff meeting. These she circulated among the department managers at Haven to give them an opportunity to make any corrections or additions before she emailed them to Shari in California.

Both BD and Shari thought total transparency was the way to fold the two operations together with the least number of potential problems and misunderstandings. So far it was paying off with good productivity and high employee morale on the New York end.

It didn’t sit well with BD that Shari was rather stingy with feedback on the LA operation. She didn’t like being in the dark, but was willing to wait while Shari smoothed out problems with her parents and Judd. Shari would not welcome any additional pressure from BD.

A key fabric supplier in India requested an in-person meeting with Enzo and BD at their Mumbai facility at their earliest opportunity. When she gave this information to Shari, she waffled on a decision. BD suggested Shari go to India instead of her if she didn’t want BD to make the trip.

“I’ll get back to you on it. There’s a lot going on here for me to deal with.”

“Is there something I should be aware of? I get the feeling I’m operating without all the information I need to make this merger a success.”

Shari sounded abrupt and impatient. “Everything will be resolved on this end. Don’t worry. I’ll make a decision on the India trip within the next week.”

Don’t worry
.
Again.

“OK. I’ll wait till I hear from you. In the meantime I’ll let Mr. Singh know it’ll be a couple of weeks before we can get over there.” BD hung up the phone, leaned back in her chair, and rubbed her temples.

That evening her cell phone rang after eleven. Afraid it might be some sort of emergency with Jack’s family, she answered before checking
caller ID.

“Hello.”

“Are you ready to stop playing games and come home?” Nick’s unmistakable gruff tone grated her nerves.

“What? Nick?”

“You’ve had six months to get yourself sorted out. It’s time to come home.”

She slumped down on the chaise. “What are you talking about? Your apartment is not my home. There’s no reason for you to believe we could reconcile our differences.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course there is. You need me. You know you do. We made a good team.”

She dropped her head on a cushion and looked at the ceiling. “A good team. Are you kidding me? Everything always had to be your way. You never supported me or my goals. God, what have you been smoking?”

“Very funny. You know I’m right. Our time together trumped your
career
. You never understood that, did you?”

She took a breath, considered her answer. “We have nothing to talk about. We’re over.”

“Who’s the guy you’re shacking up with?”

“What are you talking about? What guy?”

“The little wop I saw you going into your apartment with. Neither of you left all night.”

Alarms clanged in her head. That
was
Nick she spotted outside her building last night. What was he doing in New York?

A chill crept down her arms to her hands, a hollow feeling in her chest made breathing difficult. “Look, I don’t owe you any explanations, but just to set the record straight, Enzo is an employee, he lives in the same building.”

“The same apartment, too, I see. What are you doing?”

Realizing she shouldn’t have answered his question, BD continued, despite her instincts. “It’s the company apartment. It’s a large apartment. We are not sharing a bedroom. That’s all I have to say about the matter. This conversation is over.”

She jabbed the off button on her cell. Her hands shook. She squeezed her eyes closed, unable to fathom the subtext of Nick’s call, what his presence in Manhattan meant.

Enzo stood at her open bedroom door. “What’s the matter?”

Her eyelids snapped open when Enzo spoke. “My ex-fiancé is in New York. He’s been watching me.” She put the phone on the side table and stood.

“He’s, what you say…stalking?” Enzo stepped close and placed a hand on BD’s shoulder. “You come to the kitchen. I’ll make you a hot drink.” Grasping her hand, he tugged her through her bedroom door into the hallway.

In spite of the fact she was wrapped in a warm chenille robe and had socks on her feet, BD shivered with cold. Mute, she followed him to the kitchen and sat when he applied gentle pressure to her shoulders. One elbow on the table, she rested her head in her hand.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll stick close to you.” He filled a teakettle and set it on the stove. “Maybe you should call the police?”

“No. He didn’t threaten me, but it’s unnerving that he’s here in the city. What’s he doing here? He works in California. He never travels for company business.”

Enzo sat next to her and took her hand in his. “Don’t go out on your own,
cara
. Always stay by me. We’ll watch and see if he leaves, OK?”

She squeezed his hand and smiled when she looked into his concerned face, his penetrating eyes. He wasn’t much bigger than she, and he wanted to protect her. His sweet nature helped him get away with his outrageous flirting in the workplace. “Thanks. I’m probably worrying for nothing.”

He rose and went to the stove to remove the rumbling teapot. After making two cups of tea, he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of sambuca, poured two dollops into each cup, and carried them to the table. He placed a cup in front of her. “Drink. Is good for you.”