The entire scope of his focus narrowed to her lips. “Here,” he said huskily, wiping away the minuscule trace. His eyes followed the movement of his finger.
Madeline looked up, a little embarrassed, but forgot what she was going to say when her gaze caught his.
Hot. Her stomach jumped crazily. How could eyes that dark look so heated? She was unable to tear her gaze away. His face came closer, and still she couldn’t move. Instead she watched, entranced by those hypnotic eyes. They weren’t really black, she thought a little dizzily. But they were so dark a brown that the pupil showed only at a close range. This close. Kissing close. Unconsciously her lips parted, and her eyelids grew heavy.
“Cruz!”
Madeline looked up, a little dazed, but came back down to earth with a crash when a pretty young woman came running up and launched herself into Cruz’s arms, kissing him soundly. “Where have you been?” the woman scolded. “I’ve missed you.”
Chapter 4
Madeline tore her eyes from the embracing couple with difficulty. Movements suddenly jerky, she walked a few steps to throw her napkin into a nearby trash container. She felt like a fool, and she didn’t enjoy the emotion. The girl had saved her from looking even more foolish, though. If it hadn’t been for her arrival, Madeline was quite certain that Cruz would have kissed her. And she was very much afraid that she would have let him.
She forced herself to turn back to the couple. She observed the affectionate way Cruz had his arm draped around the girl’s shoulders. And she wasn’t much more than a girl, Madeline noted. She looked no more than twenty, and had a figure normally found on centerfolds. She was a full foot shorter than Cruz. She was exactly the kind of woman who’d always made Madeline feel like a giraffe, as she towered over her from her own height of five-ten. She squelched the urge to slouch and cross her arms.
Cruz was laughing at something the girl had said, and, turning, he introduced the two. “Madeline, this is Maureen. She’s-”
“Hush,” the girl said, clapping a hand over his mouth. “I’ll bet Madeline can tell who I am. Can’t you, Madeline?”
“It’s pretty obvious,” Madeline agreed tightly.
Cruz rolled his eyes at the dark-haired woman’s crow of delight. “See! I told you, I look just like you. You’re the only one who refuses to see it.”
Madeline froze. For the first time she really looked at the woman. Dark hair tumbled in artful disarray down her narrow shoulders. Her face was heart shaped, lightly made-up, but there was a trace of resemblance in the eyes. Madeline’s gaze bounced to Cruz as he continued the introduction.
“As I was saying, this is my younger sister Maureen. My baby sister,” he stressed, earning himself a punch on the arm.
Madeline smiled tentatively. “Nice to meet you.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Cruz asked Maureen. “Don’t you have classes?”
“Not until three,” she replied. “And that bookstore,” she said, pointing across the street, “is where I started working part-time last week, which you would have known if you hadn’t missed the last two Sunday dinners.” She continued chattering, barely pausing to take a breath. “You’re in big trouble at home and Mom is ready to lynch you. Pop says you’d better show up this week, if you know what’s good for you, or you’d better have a damn good reason.”
“Maureen!” Both women blinked at the tone of command that had entered his voice, but it accomplished its goal. His sister’s mouth snapped shut. Then, in a normal voice, he continued, “As I’ve tried to explain, I’ve been busy recently. But tell Mom and Pop I should be able to make it this Sunday.”
“You call and tell them,” his sister retorted calmly, plainly unfazed by her brother’s order. “I’m sure they have lots to say to you.” She reached up and kissed him lightly again. “Gotta run. See you this weekend. Bye, Madeline.” Her voice carried over her shoulder as she waved blithely and hurried back across the street.
Madeline smiled at the look of sheer frustration stamped on Cruz’s face as he watched his sister swing away. “Who was that masked woman?” she joked.
He shook his head wryly. “My conscience, she thinks. She could give Jiminy Cricket lessons.”
“And do you need an extra conscience?” Madeline asked, suddenly serious. She was again thinking of what he’d been accused of. At times like these he seemed so real, so human, that she wondered how he could be a suspect. But she knew too well that the most successful criminals didn’t look the part. Getting others to trust them was their stock-in-trade.
He nodded and said with mock solemnity, “Sometimes. My own doesn’t have a very loud speaking voice. I can’t always hear it.”
I’ll bet, Madeline thought darkly. And somehow she was no longer thinking at all about the crime he might have committed.
As they walked back to the car he explained, “I’m one of six kids in what is a pretty close-knit family. Too close, sometimes. It’s kind of an unspoken rule that if you live in the city, you’re expected home for dinners on Sundays, unless you have a good excuse. Mom doesn’t accept too many of those. Since all of us live here when everyone’s out of school, the weekly dinner gets to be pretty wild sometimes.”
She tried to visualize the scene he’d just described, a large warm family gathered around a dinner table, voices vying to be heard. Though she’d never experienced such a scene, it was easy to picture. She was curious to hear more about his family, and finding out from him would save her some checking. At least, that’s what she told herself. “Where do you fall in the family?”
“Second to the oldest. Let’s see, there’s Sean, me, Shannon, Antonio, Maureen and Miguel.”
Madeline blinked. “I know I’ll hate myself for asking,” she muttered, “but Sean, Shannon and Maureen… Martinez?”
They’d reached the car, but neither made a move to get in. Cruz chuckled. “We’re a little unconventional, I guess. I’m only half Puerto Rican-my mother is Irish.”
“Hence the names,” she surmised, interest caught despite herself.
“Mom and Pop decided they would take turns naming us when we were born.” He winked. “Lucky there was an even number of us. I’d hate to consider what kind of name they would have chosen as a compromise.”
“Six kids is a large family,” Madeline said. “Where did you live?”
“A series of apartments on the northeast side,” he answered. “Pop works on the docks, and as he improved his job, his first concern was always getting us a better place to live. A few years ago they moved to a small house. Mom was home with us when we were growing up, but Maureen and Miguel are both in college. A few years ago Mom went back to school and now she works as a legal secretary.”
She tried and failed to imagine what it must have been like growing up with an apartment full of siblings in crowded rooms, with a mother home all day to ride herd. Noisy, she guessed. The one thing she remembered above all else from her own childhood was the quiet. She was the only child in the huge home most of the time, and even though her mother hadn’t worked, she’d been gone frequently, involved in her clubs and charity work. Madeline had always looked forward to cleaning day each week, when the housekeeper ran the vacuum. For that short time the house would seem a little less empty.
“So by now you’ve probably guessed how safe you are with me.” His words interrupted her thoughts and she looked across the car at him. He was leaning; he seemed to do that a lot, she noted.
“How’s that?”
“Puerto Rican and Irish-of course I had the required Catholic upbringing.” His eyes glinted wickedly. “I was even an altar boy.”
She smiled at that information. “Proof that God does work in mysterious ways.”
“That’s just what Father Dougherty used to say to me,” he agreed. “I think he believed that I was his own personal trial on earth. I got along better with the nuns at school. At least, most of them. Sister Mary Joseph never understood me. Did you ever notice that the nuns all used to have men’s names?” he added irrelevantly.