the Disgrace level. Still, they were the cutest thing she’d ever owned.
“Now,” she began, thinking that now Maguire was finally awake, she had things to discuss with him. Her brain hiccuped when she caught Maguire staring at her shoes, too. Or possibly not at her shoes. His gaze seemed downright riveted on her calves and ankles.
“Now,” she began again, but Maguire’s fascination with her legs sent a ball of fire straight to her belly, distracting her. “I was wondering,” she started for a third time, “whether the woman in your life isn’t having a problem with your spending so much time with me.”
Maguire didn’t even blink. “Well, yeah, of course she has a problem. But she’s so well trained and obedient that she wouldn’t think of expressing it.” He kindly reached over to thwack her back when she started choking.
Thankfully she recovered quickly, even magnanimously resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs. “So,” she said, “there are no serious women in your life right now, huh. How could that possibly be?”
“Maybe…most women have better judgment in men than you do?”
“Can’t be that. I have superior judgment in people,” she informed him.
“Right. Pit you and a lamb against a lion, and the lamb’d probably be tougher. Way tougher.”
“Good insult,” she praised him. “But you’re digressing. Were you ever married?”
“Did I realize that you were nosy before this?”
“Really? Not even married once?”
He glowered at her. “You were way, way easier to handle when you were deaf.”
She was on to him. If she let him get away with his nonsense, it was the same as enabling the devil. So she stayed dogged on the subject. “I’ll bet quite a few women gave you a run for their money.”
“For my money, maybe. I’ve never gone after a woman for hers.”
“Aha. You let some information slip out there, Maguire. You’re losing your edge.” She winked at him. “Want to look at my gorgeous legs again?”
“Hey, did your parents never spank you? No one ever said, honey, don’t touch a hot stove? Don’t open the cage door of a bear?”
“Did yours? Is that how you got so wary? You’re just too adorable to be alone, Maguire. There should be women snapping at your heels, doing inventive things to capture your interest, thrilled to make sure you never have to sleep alone at night.”
He squinted at her in the sunlight, just as the pilot announced their imminent descent into Monaco. “You’re getting way, way stronger faster than I thought you would, Cee. I’m beginning to think the shoes are a factor.”
“Me, too. Think what red shoes did for Dorothy in
Maguire said quietly, “And that’s all you want, too, isn’t it? Your reference point isn’t Kansas. But you want the same thing Dorothy did. To find your way back home.”
She thought about that on their drive to the hotel. Maguire was right. This crazy journey he’d taken her on was all about becoming strong enough to go home.
And the truth was…she felt stronger every day. Maybe she still had no clear plan about how to face all the dragons waiting for her at home, but she was starting to feel. Starting to stand up. Starting to own her heart again.
But she wasn’t ready to leave Maguire.
Even if a broken heart was at the end of this journey, she’d come far enough-become strong enough-to be absolutely certain how important he was to her. She had no illusions that he felt the same. She only knew she wanted whatever time with him she could beg, borrow or steal. Maguire at his worst challenged her heart more than any man ever had.
Carolina didn’t expect to see Maguire at his worst quite so soon, but walking into the hotel turned into an
Maguire didn’t do frazzled, of course, he just went into hypermanagement mode. She was given a temporary room, with a couple hours free to nap and change clothes before they met in the lobby for dinner. He took over an office somewhere. It all worked out.
Actually, it more than worked out. Four hours later she was seated in a magical place. The restaurant had the look of a castle, washed in glowing gilt as the sun went down. They ate outside, their table on the veranda with the bay just below. From the white tablecloths to the sparkle of crystal, the atmosphere was elegant. Tables filled up, but conversations were muted, with others-mostly couples-enjoying the sights and sounds and smells of the fabulous scenery, fabulous meal. Carolina had never before seen more jewels in one spot. There were enough dazzling diamonds to cause neck and earaches.
Maguire, though, was his usual common-sense self. “You’re certain you want to mix that Japanese sushi and the Thai curry?”
“I think the chances of my ever coming here again are nonexistent, so I’m trying everything they’ll let me.” She tried to keep her eyes off him. His business glitches had been taken care of, and he’d lost the take-charge posture, even looked relaxed. But he still stunned her in the tux.
Apparently tuxes were standard Monaco attire, judging from the number of men wearing them-but it was only Maguire who glued her attention. The shock-white shirt and formal black tux did something to him. He looked all brash and blond. A rogue trapped in gentleman’s clothes. There was something not quite civilized in the tilt of his chin, the way he walked, the arch of his brow.
She’d had a blast dressing for dinner, but it wasn’t as if she could compete with this crowd. Maguire had had Henry pack a few of her own clothes before this trip, but she was still limited in what she could pull together. The black satin pants and top had been on sale at T.J. Maxx the holiday before, and just happened to go perfectly with her red Versace shoes. Maybe the cowl neck could have used jewelry, but she didn’t have anything for this sort of occasion or place, so her neck and wrists were bare. She’d stroked in some mousse to add body to her hair, used a simple crystal clip to make the style look more formal, but there was a limit to what she could do with the equipment she had.
Trying to impress Maguire wasn’t a goal, anyway. Or trying to pretend she was something she wasn’t. As far as Carolina could tell, trying to outthink Maguire was a waste of time. He didn’t respect people who lied to him or tried to manipulate him.
So, she didn’t have to do anything but be herself-a T.J. Maxx girl who intended to try everything on the menu-if they let her. The waiter, so far, had been a hundred percent on her side. “When I saw the menu didn’t have any prices listed, I knew it had to be over the top. And since I’m on major greedy mode, how about if I pay for my own dinner?”
“Nice try. Not going to happen.”
“Have you ever been here before?”
“To Monaco, once. But not to this restaurant. It’s got a reputation around the world for being stupendous.”
“It sure is.” Midway through the meal, though, Maguire responded to the vibrator mode on his cell. He stood up, apologized and moved away from the other diners to take the call. It was business, Carolina could tell, because he immediately went on hard-face mode. He listened. Spoke crisply. He hadn’t told her what business glitches he’d been dealing with that afternoon-she suspected he never would. But whoever he was talking to, Carolina was mighty glad it wasn’t her.
The interruption gave her a chance to stand up. She wasn’t sure how many courses they’d finished-surely six or seven-and she was comfortably stuffed. She carried her half-filled wineglass to the balcony edge. Night had dropped. Clouds skimmed past necklaces of stars, and the turquoise waters of the Cote had turned black satin. Just below, cars kept delivering patrons to the restaurant… car models she’d never seen before anywhere.
She must have been there several minutes before she realized Maguire had joined her, and was leaning over the edge as she was. “You see down there…the first car, the one everyone’s looking it? It’s a Bugatti Veyron,” he informed her. “It’s the most expensive car in the world, if I remember right. Under two million, but not by much. It’s the only car that can hit four hundred miles an hour.”
“Where on earth could you drive four hundred miles an hour?”
“That’s not the point.”
