as he could but finally gave in to Jeremy’s pleas to teach him some martial-arts moves. It was well after dark before they were all tucked into bed.
Isabel managed to slip away to the farmhouse while Ren was on the phone. She tumbled into bed and fell instantly asleep, only to be awakened at one in the morning by a crash followed by a curse. She bolted upright in bed.
The light snapped on in the hall, and Ren poked his head in. “Sorry. I banged my duffel against the chest and knocked over a lamp.”
She blinked and pulled the sheet to her shoulders. “What are you doing here?”
“You don’t seriously believe I’m staying up there, do you?” He bristled with indignation.
“Well, you can’t move in here.”
“Watch me.” He disappeared.
She shot out of bed, her silk gown fluttering behind her as she went after him.
He’d thrown his duffel on the bed in the next room, which was smaller than her own room but just as plain. The gregarious Italians didn’t believe in wasting their decorating money on solitary spaces like bedrooms when they could spend it on the kitchens and gardens that were their gathering places. As she rushed in, he stopped unpacking long enough to take in the ivory lace bodice that clung to her breasts and the delicate, ankle-length skirt. “You got any dolphins under that?”
“None of your business. Ren, the villa’s huge, and this house is small. You can’t-”
“Not huge enough. If you think I’m staying under the same roof with a nutty pregnant woman and her four psycho kids, you’re crazier than they are.”
“Then go somewhere else.”
“Exactly what I’m doing.” Once again his eyes went on an exploratory mission. She waited for him to say something provocative, but he surprised her. “I appreciate the way you stuck around tonight, although I could have done without those lists you kept shoving at me.”
“You threatened to turn off my electricity if I left.”
“You can’t fool me, Doc. You’d have stayed anyway, because you’re a sucker for cleaning up other people’s messes.” He pulled out a messy stack of T-shirts. “That’s probably why you like hanging around with me, except in my case you’re fighting a losing battle.”
“I
He propped a shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his ankles, his gaze traveling from her ankles to her breasts. “Too big a distraction for you, right?”
Her skin grew warm. He was the devil incarnate. This was the way he lured women to their deaths. “Let’s just say I need to concentrate on the spiritual at the moment.”
“You do that.” He gave her his most sinister smile. “And don’t even think about what happened to Jennifer Lopez when she slept in the room next to mine.”
She shot him a look that told him exactly how infantile she thought he was, and swept past him. Just as she got to the hallway, she noticed the small lamp sitting on the chest directly in front of her. Even before she heard his evil chuckle, she knew he could see right through her nightgown.
“Definitely no dolphins. You’re killing me, Fifi.”
“A distinct possibility.”
The next morning Isabel made a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice for herself and carried it out to one of the blue metal chairs that sat in a sunny spot near the house. Dew still clung to the leaves of the olive trees, and a few stray ribbons of mist drifted in the valley below. She uttered a little prayer of gratitude-the least she could do- and began to take her first sip of juice just as Ren emerged from the house in all his rumpled glory.
“Had to get up early today so I could run before it gets too hot.” He yawned.
“It’s nearly nine.”
“That’s what I mean.”
She set down the orange juice and watched the hem of his gray sleeveless T-shirt rise as he began to stretch. His stomach rippled with hard muscle, and a thin line of dark hair disappeared into a pair of black running shorts. She drank in every inch of him-cheekbones, pirate’s stubble, athlete’s chest, and all.
He caught her watching him. As he crossed his arms over his chest, she could see that he was already enjoying himself. “Do you want me to turn around so you can get the back view?”
She retaliated with her shrink voice. “Do you think I want you to turn around?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Being so dazzling must be difficult. You never know whether people want to be with you because of your character or only because of your appearance.”
“Definitely appearance. I have no character.”
She couldn’t let that pass. “You have a very strong character. Most of it is twisted, true, but not all of it.”
“Thanks for nothing.”
And wasn’t it a miracle how a good night’s sleep could increase a woman’s capacity to annoy? She imitated his oily smile. “Would you mind turning to the side so I can enjoy your profile?”
“Stop being a wise-ass.” He collapsed in the chair next to her, where he drained the glass of juice she’d taken ten minutes to squeeze.
She frowned. “I thought you were going for a run.”
“Don’t rush me. Tell me none of Tracy’s little monsters have shown up here.”
“Not yet.”
“They’re smart little buggers. They’ll find us. And you’re going up there with me after I get cleaned up, so you can be there while I have it out with her. I’ve decided to tell her you’re recovering from a nervous breakdown, and you need peace and quiet. Then I’m loading everybody up in that Volvo she’s driving, and sending them on their way to a great hotel, all expenses paid.”
Somehow Isabel didn’t think it would be that easy. “How did she find you?”
“She knows my agent.”
“She’s an interesting woman. How long did you say you were married?”
“One miserable year. Our mothers were friends, so we grew up together, got into trouble together, and also managed to flunk out of college at the same time. Since we didn’t want to get kicked off the parental gravy train and actually have to work for a living, we decided to get married to divert their attention.” He set down the empty glass. “Do you have any idea what happens when two spoiled brats get married?”
“Nothing pleasant, I’m sure.”
“Door slamming, temper tantrums, hair pulling. And she was even worse.”
Isabel laughed.
“She got remarried two years after our divorce. I’ve seen her a couple of times when she’s come out to L.A., and we talk every few months.”
“An unusual relationship for a divorced couple.”
“For a few years afterward we didn’t talk at all, but neither of us has any brothers or sisters. Her father died, and her mother’s a nutcase. I guess nostalgia for our dysfunctional childhoods keeps us in contact more than anything else.”
“You’d never seen her children or her husband?”
“I saw the two older ones when they were little. Never met her husband. One of those corporate types. He sounds like a real stiff.” He moved his weight to one hip, withdrew a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his shorts, and flipped it open. “I found this in the kitchen. You want to explain?”
She must possess a subconscious desire to be tortured, or she’d never have left that lying around. “Give it to me.”
Naturally he held it just out of her reach. “You need me even worse than I thought.” He began to read from the schedule she’d drawn up her first day here. “ ‘Get up at six o’clock.’ Why the hell would you want to do that?”
“I don’t, apparently, because I’ve only been up since eight.”
“ ‘Prayer, meditation, gratitude, and daily affirmations,’ “ he went on. “What’s a daily affirmation? No, don’t tell
