CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
KATY
December 21
Katy burrowed deeper into Marcus’s warmth and then startled awake. She opened her eyes to a soft light and to the view of Marcus’s chest under her hand.
She raised her head and looked around. The sky slowly lightened into dawn. Probably seven o’clock was her guess. Conchilla was waking up.
There were people pumping water, filling pans in a loud gush. A man walked past with a string of fish, probably fresh-caught from the lake. The smell of coffee pervaded the air, as well as the perennial smell of tamales.
She savored Marcus’s masculine scent, a woodsy smell that stirred her blood.
His eyes were closed and his breathing even. Her gaze traced his dark features. His brows, his thick lashes, sexy scruff, soft-looking lips.
She could push away and out of his arms, but it felt so warm. He’d get too cold if she left him now.
With that pathetic excuse, she lay in his arms and happily snuggled, falling back to sleep.
She woke to a finger stroking her cheek. Opening her eyes, she gazed into Marcus’s. A lambent fire burned in them.
“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice husky.
“Good morning,” she said, pushing out of his arms and sitting up.
Snuggle time was over.
“Thank you for the warmth.” Away from his embrace, she tried to not shiver. It had felt so good to be held by him, but she needed to keep her distance.
“You’re very welcome.” He sat up too.
She turned, and his gaze trapped hers and then fell to her mouth. She could see his breath between his lips.
He leaned closer and paused, just inches away.
He was going to kiss her. And she wanted him to.
“What’s going on between us?” she asked, sounding breathless to her ears.
He searched her eyes. “I’m falling in love with you; that’s what.”
She couldn’t look away. Her heart beat erratically. “I’ve never been in love before,” she confessed.
“Never?”
“Just crushes here and there. Not any full-on consuming passions.”
His gaze lingered on her lips. “Is that what this is?” She felt like she was free-falling. “I don’’t know.”
The expression in his eyes was gentle. “Scared?”
“Aren’t you?”
He swallowed visibly. “Yes. But happy too. Excited.”
Villagers clattered noisily outside the open-walled shelter. A few stopped to talk to the mayor, who replied in his booming voice.
Marcus reached for her hand and squeezed it.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she stammered, feeling self-conscious with so many people possibly gawking. She scrambled to her feet and walked away.
She’d resolved to keep her heart protected, but after last night and this morning, everything felt different. More hopeful. She smiled to herself as she pictured Marcus’s sweet confession.
I’m falling in love with you.
When she returned to Sammy’s, Marcus was already drinking coffee and trading stories with their host. Their eyes met over his cup, the sensation electric.
She sat next to Sammy and accepted a cup of coffee. It was sweet and strong, warming her belly. Cupping the faded metal mug in her hands for heat, she listened to Sammy tell Marcus about their rebuilding goals.
“Our gardens were spared, gracias a Dios, but not much else. We need to grow maize. We still have farming implements. Which is good, for everything else was destroyed. Our pens. Our livelihood.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Marcus said.
“Any help would be maravilloso.” The mayor kissed his own fingertips.
A choppy noise interrupted their conversation. A helicopter was approaching Conchilla.
“I commissioned it,” Marcus said.
She gaped at him in dismay. “Marcus, you know how I feel. How could you do that?”
He rubbed his nape. “I’m sorry. I just thought we could get out of here quicker. Plus, I had to get their news media here somehow.”
Katy sucked her breath in. “For your promo?”
He frowned as he lowered his hand to his side. “My promo? No, of course not. How could you think of that?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
There wasn’t time to chat further. The helicopter landed. Two people jumped out and ran, crouching, to them.
A beautiful woman in a cream pantsuit and a guy in jeans lugging around a huge camera approached them.
“Mr. James?” the woman said in thickly accented English. She sounded like Elvira, rolling her r’s.
“Marcus.” He shook her hand.
“Alessandra Cruz,” she said. She sounded like an expensive brand of tea. She looked it too. Her appearance seemed out of place in the rubble of Conchilla.
“And this is…?” She turned to Katy.
“Katy Stevens.” They shook hands.
“She’s the patron of Conchilla,” Marcus said.
“Patron?” Alessandra’s brows squinted together. “Here it means crime boss.”
“Certainly not what I meant,” Marcus said.
Alessandra gave him a flirtatious glance. “I think it’s great that you are here to help our country.”
Marcus lapped it all up. “I’m simply trying to do all I can to help.”
Katy felt nauseous. Who was this Marcus, media-savvy all of a sudden?
“If you’ll excuse me,” Katy said, “I need to get ready to catch the bus.”
“Seriously, Katy?” Marcus said. “Don’t be stubborn. You don’t have to walk up and back in snow both ways to be worthy, you know.”
His accusation, though fairly accurate, stung. “I kept my promise and showed you Conchilla,” she said. “We’re free to go our separate ways.” Katy flicked a glance at the sexy reporter. “Besides, it looks like you’ll have a full helicopter.”
“Can we wait to talk about this? In private?” He gave her a pleading glance.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Thank you, Marcus, for your time. Goodbye.”
Marcus’s expression hardened. “Goodbye.”
When he turned his full attention to Alessandra, Katy walked off.
Sammy was talking to some people when Katy came over. She didn’t want to interrupt, so she just poked her head in his shelter and said goodbye.
“Come see us again,” Sammy said.
“I actually want to do one more thing,” Katy said. “Can you please gather the children together?”
When he did, everyone came running. The TV crew came too.
“I have something for you,” Katy told the children.
Out came the gifts she’d brought: bouncy balls and little toys, coloring books, and small shirts, pencils and candy. Katy handed out things, but she wasn’t quick enough. A line snaked around the village.
“Here,” Marcus said, joining her. “Let me help.”
Their glances clashed and then veered off. “Thank you,” she said.
Marcus crouched on the ground to pull stuff out. A child drifted toward him and sat on his lap.
Katy’s heart squeezed. He looked like Santa. A younger, gorgeous version with a dark beard. Too bad it was all for the news media’s benefit.
The kids lined up to tell Marcus what they wanted for Christmas. Sammy translated for him.
“A doll,” a little girl said.
“Soccer ball,” the boy he’d played with the day before told him with a lisp.
A toy. Blanket. Food. Clothes. New flip-flops.
Within minutes, the children had happily hauled away whatever they wanted from Katy’s stash.
“That was brilliant,” Alessandra told Marcus.
Katy snapped her suitcase shut, her job was done here for now. Exchanging cool glances with Marcus, she walked away to catch the bus.