Her Return To King's Bed Part 12

"There were two boats in the harbor," she pointed out. "I mean, besides the local fishing boats."

He nodded, tucked her arm through his and started walking again. "Sometimes there are more hotel guests coming in from St. Thomas than usual."

"No cruise ships are allowed to stop here, right?"

He glanced at her. "How did you know that?"

Well, because when she found out that Rico had bought land on Tesoro with the intention of building a hotel, she'd spent a lot of time researching the island. She'd wanted at least to know what he was doing and where he would be living-even if she couldn't be with him. Which was how she had known that Melinda's grandfather owned the island outright. And that it was one of the bigger privately held islands in the Caribbean.

Walter liked keeping his island as private as possible, but he also was aware that the shopkeepers needed to make a living. So he'd compromised and allowed small ships to bring in tourists to stay in the hotel and give the islanders a steady income while at the same time protecting Tesoro from being overrun with too many people.

When she first read about him and his stubborn refusal to welcome cruise ships, she had thought the older man was shortsighted, not letting his island progress. But looking at the village now, she could appreciate his decision. She imagined these tidy streets jam-packed with crowds of people-snapping pictures, drinking too much, dropping trash on the pretty streets-and actually shuddered at the mental image. Walter had been smart to protect this place.

Now, to answer Rico's question, she hedged a little. "I read up on the island when I found out my father and brother had come here."

He scowled at her and she was sorry to see that bringing up her family had instantly soured his mood. But better that than letting him know she'd been keeping tabs on him for years.

"I admit, I was surprised that your family chose to come here for a 'job.'" Rico started walking again and Teresa kept pace. "It's a small island-thieves are spotted more easily, and, as it turns out, caught more easily, as well."

True, her father's ego would be bruised for years over Rico actually catching him. Police departments all around the world had been trying and failing to do it for years.

But Rico was different. As tenacious as he was, she had known that coming into contact with him again would bring disaster down on the Corettis. Which was exactly why she had warned her family off. Rico King was n.o.body's fool. His eyes were too sharp to miss anything and he wasn't one of those wealthy types who only occasionally stepped in to keep an eye on what belonged to him. Rico was hands-on. He would know everything happening with his properties.

Especially since he'd been robbed himself, he was on a higher alert than most people would have been.

Still, she hadn't been all that surprised when her father and brother had come to Tesoro.

"My father enjoys a challenge," she said, and couldn't help the small smile that curved her mouth. Whatever else Dominick Coretti was, he had always been a warm and loving father.

"He should try not stealing then," Rico told her flatly. "Give himself a real challenge."

"Don't think I haven't suggested it." Teresa lifted her face into the wind and sighed as the cool air slid past. "But..."

"Once a thief, always a thief?"

Teresa let that statement go because it was pointless to argue with him about the Coretti family business. He would never understand the centuries-old legacy that Dominick was so determined to keep alive. Teresa's worry was that her father wasn't getting any younger and perhaps his skills weren't as good as they had been once-though she would never suggest such a thing to him in person.

She didn't want to see her family in prison, though. And heaven knew the Corettis had more than enough money to retire. It wasn't, she thought, the actual stealing that her father loved so much as the adventure of having every day be a different one. Of finding a way into a heavily guarded estate. Of out-thinking security parameters and disabling electronic surveillance equipment. He liked pitting himself against an adversary, so thinking of a way to get her father to hang up his black gloves was going to be difficult.

That was a problem for the future, though. She only had a little more than two weeks left with Rico. She could spend that time arguing with him over the Coretti family business...or she could simply enjoy what she had while she had it.

"Oh, my." She stopped dead in front of a shop window, drawing Rico to a stop, as well. "How beautiful."

In the jewelry shop window, on a bed of black velvet, sat rings, bracelets, earrings and necklaces, all set with blue-green stones that Teresa had never seen before. They shone in the sunlight like pieces of the sea, trapped forever in settings of gold and silver. Pure avarice struck her and the Coretti legacy reared its ugly head as she curled her fingers into her palms to keep from trying to grab them all right through the gla.s.s. "They're beautiful."

"They are." Rico stood beside her, but in the reflection of the gla.s.s, she saw that he was looking at her, not the jewelry. "They're Tesoro topazes. The gemstone is found only on this island."

"So jewel prospecting is a pretty good job on this island, then?"

He laughed shortly and she suddenly found his eyes even more appealing than the glittering stones and precious metals spread out in front of her. "Occasionally a hotel guest will stumble on a find while out for a hike. But the islanders know where to look for the best stones."

"It would be fun," she mused as her gaze swung back to the shop window. "Like a treasure hunt."

"The jewelry you see here is Melinda's work," he said after Teresa spent another minute or two practically drooling on the gla.s.s.

"Melinda?" Teresa looked at him.

"She makes the jewelry and it's sold here."

"She's incredibly talented," Teresa murmured. "And I think I'm more than a little envious."

"On the other hand," Rico told her, capturing her hand in his again, "you are a chef and Melinda is a miserable cook. So for survival's sake, I would choose your gifts over hers."

A flush of pride and pleasure filled her and just for a second or two she allowed herself to fully enjoy the look in his eyes and the warmth of his hand in hers. But even as she watched, the gleam in his eyes faded slightly. So she spoke up and kept her tone light.

"Well, then," Teresa said with a half smile. "Guess it would be pointless to buy her that lovely bracelet as a new-mom present. I mean, since she made it."

"True." He pulled her hand through the crook of his arm and steered her along the street after she gave one last look at the shop window. "When Sean and Melinda became engaged, he bought her a ring and only later found out that she had made it herself."

Teresa laughed at the image and enjoyed the fact that just for now, they were smiling together. Taking a walk, enjoying the day, as if reality had taken the day off. It was almost as it had been five years ago. But, of course, it couldn't last.

When Rico's cell phone rang, she felt a quick flash of annoyance. Just when things were going so well. She stopped and waited as he glanced at the screen.

"It is the hotel," he said, then answered it. "Yes?"

His gaze shot to hers and Teresa was disappointed to see his easy expression drain away to be replaced with the cold, cautious one she'd become so accustomed to.

"What is it?" Her voice was as resigned as she felt.

"A phone call," he said. "From your father. The hotel is forwarding it to my cell."

"My father?" She hadn't heard from her father since the day he left. Mainly because Rico had commandeered her cell phone-no doubt so she couldn't make escape plans. She took the phone from him and tried not to worry at what might have happened to make her father call. "Papa?"

"Bellissima, are you all right?" Nick's voice was hurried, anxious. "I have not heard from you and when I try to call your cell, I get only your answering machine."

"I, um, lost my phone," she said, with a quick look at Rico, who only seemed amused. Yes, she'd lied again. But she couldn't very well tell her father that Rico had commandeered her phone to ensure that she didn't call her family to plot an escape.

"Good, good. I am glad you are all right. This King person, he is treating you well?"

"I'm fine, Papa. Rico has been very..." She paused and caught his eyes. One black eyebrow lifted, as if he was waiting to see exactly what she would tell her father about their time together. "...kind."

He snorted.

Her father only muttered something in Italian that she thought it was better Rico hadn't heard. Then he spoke again.

"When this is all over, cara, you will tell me all about how you could marry this man without telling your papa."

"I will," she promised, though she knew that conversation wouldn't be a pleasant one. No man wanted to hear that his daughter had been so swept away by pa.s.sion that marrying a man she hardly knew had seemed like the rational thing to do.

"But for now," her father continued, "there is a small problema, mi cara."

"Problem?" she repeated for Rico's benefit, and his scowl deepened accordingly. "What's wrong?"

Her father huffed out a breath. "We cannot find Gianni," he admitted finally. "He, too, is not answering his phone-why do my children plague me with machines they do not bother to use?-and he has not been in touch with us. He is not here in Italy and no one has seen him in weeks."

Her brother could be anywhere in the world. If he didn't want to be found, no one would be able to locate him. But why wasn't he answering his phone? It wasn't like him to simply disappear without telling the family when he would be back.

There were only two weeks left in Rico's ultimatum, and if Gianni didn't return Rico's dagger at the end of the month...the Coretti family would end up in jail. As to what Rico would do with her, she couldn't even guess.

"Did you try reaching him at his apartment in London?" she asked, keeping her gaze now firmly away from Rico's.

"Si, si. Of course we tried. Paulo is traveling, trying to run Gianni to ground." He sounded completely disgusted with the whole situation. "Paulo is in Monaco right now. If he finds Gianni there, he will call me immediately. I am going to Gstaad. He had a woman there last year and perhaps..."

That was the trouble with having a wandering family. They all had connections all over the world. Gianni could be anywhere. But the fact that he wasn't answering his phone had Teresa more than a little worried. What if he had been arrested somewhere? What if he was right now sitting in a jail cell and couldn't call?

She chewed at her bottom lip as she considered the possibilities. Then she realized that if one of the Coretti family had been arrested, it would have made all of the news programs. So clearly Gianni wasn't in jail. So where, exactly, was he?

"Papa, if you can't find him in Switzerland," she said, "call Simone in Paris. She might know where he is."

"Ah, of course!" Her father sounded joyful at the suggestion. "Simone and Gianni..." And off he went again in fluent, musical Italian.

Teresa stole a glance at Rico and was sorry she had. He didn't look happy. His blue eyes were almost cobalt and a muscle in his tightly clenched jaw twitched with his effort to control his anger.

"You will be well, bellissima," her father said when he had wound down. "All will be taken care of. But we might need a little more time..."

Oh, no. "Hold on, Papa."

Taking a breath, she covered the phone with her hand and spoke to the man glowering beside her. "Paulo and my father are having a hard time finding Gianni," she explained.

"He's the one who took my dagger?"

"Yes," she said shortly. "And it seems he's disappeared, at least temporarily. They're looking for him, but Papa says they might need a little more time and-"

Shaking his head, he s.n.a.t.c.hed his phone from her and said tightly, "Signore Coretti. You have no more time. There are two weeks left. If my dagger is not returned, the evidence I hold goes to Interpol."

She could hear her father's loud bl.u.s.tering and his shouted demand, "And what of Teresa? What happens to my little girl?"

She held her breath, waiting for the answer to that question. Rico's gaze met hers and she saw no softening in those cold blue depths. No warmth on his features when he said, "She will no longer be your concern. As she is my wife, I decide what will happen."

He shut off the phone and dropped it into his shirt pocket. Looking down at her, he repeated, "Two weeks, Teresa."

"And then?"

"We will see when the time comes." He took her hand in his, but it wasn't a comforting grip. More like a jailer's hold on a flight risk. "For now, let us go to the chocolatier for Melinda's gift."

She followed after him because she had no choice. But the truth was, she'd have followed him anyway.

There were only two weeks left. And whatever his plan for Teresa entailed, she knew it didn't include staying with him.

So while her family panicked and searched the globe for Gianni...Teresa was going to try to enjoy the moments she had left with the only man she'd ever love.

Ten.

Two days later, Rico arrived home earlier than usual.

Ever since that phone call from Dominick, there'd been new tension between him and Teresa. It was as if they both realized that time was running out and neither of them knew quite how it would end.

Over the last couple of weeks so much had changed between them that Rico wasn't comfortable with his old plan of revenge and payback. Now he was more focused on Teresa herself and what they might have found together. Though the complication of the Corettis still stood between them.

He knew she was worried about her family. Anxious at the thought of her brothers and father going to prison. And yes, he knew that it was his threats that had brought them all to this point.

The difference was that now he hated to see her on edge. Hated knowing that it was because of him that she had to fear for her family. And he really hated that he was falling under her spell again.

He couldn't trust her, but that didn't seem to matter. Old feelings were back and they were growing into something even bigger than they'd once been.

Scrubbing one hand across his face and then shoving that hand through his hair, he tried to find a way through this mess of his own design. But there was nothing. He had backed himself into a corner.

Moving quietly through his darkened house, he headed unerringly for the bedroom where Teresa would be waiting for him. A sharp tug of pleasure dragged at the edges of his heart at the knowledge. Oh, he was in deep trouble.

His steps faltered as he heard low-pitched voices-one of them a man's-coming from his bedroom. Rico went instantly still. Someone was in his bedroom, with Teresa. What the h.e.l.l? She wasn't screaming for help, which only fed the flames of suspicion burning inside. On alert now, he eased closer to the partially closed door and peered inside.

Everything in him urged Rico to charge into that room and find out who the mystery b.a.s.t.a.r.d was. But this time his mind won over his instincts. He had to know what was going on and if he slammed in, the hurried conversation would end. So instead he moved closer and listened.

"Bastien, you have to go," Teresa said, her voice hurried, yet determined.

"Not without you." The man's voice was deep and adamant.

Rico's blood rushed to his head and he curled his fists at his sides. But before he could give in to the jealousy pouring through him as though from a tap turned on full blast, Rico peered into the room and saw an older man, dressed all in black. His gray mustache covered half his face and his bushy gray brows were wiry.

So, not a romantic encounter.

"Your father sent me to get you away," the man insisted, tossing a nervous glance over his shoulder at the open terrace doors. "He cannot find Gianni or the dagger."

Teresa sighed. "My brother wasn't in Paris, either?"

"No." The old man lowered his voice even further, but his insistence was sharp. "We are still looking, but your father does not wish you to stay with this man-your husband-any longer. He worries for your safety."

Rico scowled at the door. As if he was a danger to Teresa? Insult slammed into him but was buried deep as he waited for her reply.

"Tell my father I'm safe, Bastien. And I can't leave the island."

"Si, you can. I have a fishing boat waiting at the harbor." The older man reached out and took her hand. "From the mainland, we board the plane your father has waiting. It will take us to him."