The Marcelli Bride

“I’m sure Alex will be relieved to hear that.”



Mia grinned. “You’re not going to tell him are you?”



“Nope. Let him suffer.”



“Good. So what do you think of us?”



“I like the family,” Darcy said and meant it. “Everyone has made me feel really welcome.”



“We’re like that. The Grands are so cool, and my folks are, too. Are Grammy M and Grandma Tessa still not talking?”



“They don’t seem to get along.”



“I hate that.” Mia scooted around so her head was at the foot of the bed, then she flopped over onto her stomach. “I wish they’d make up. But they’re both so stubborn. Maybe having Joe here will help. They adore him. We all do. Not that he’s so crazy about us.”



The bright light in her eyes faded. “Have you heard how he came to be here?”



“I know that he was given up for adoption and then found years later.”



“Yeah. It’s totally horrible that my mom had to do that. Now Joe’s here, but he’s not a part of us, you know. He won’t let anyone get close. I make him crazy, which is fun, but it’s not the same as being, you know, emotionally intimate. Brenna’s the one he gets along with the best, but he holds back from everyone. He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”



She paused expectantly.



Darcy did her best to look innocent. “Oh. Should I be taking notes?”



Mia giggled. “No, but are you interested?”



“I barely know the man.”



“What does that matter?”



“Amazingly enough, it matters to me.”



“Oh, well. Maybe next time. You should think about it, though. I’ll bet he’s great in bed.” Mia wrinkled her nose. “You know, I don’t think I can talk about Joe’s sex life. As intriguing as it would be, he’s my brother, and there’s a serious ick factor.”



“I’m sure your family will be delighted to know you have limits.”



Mia sat up. “I don’t want limits. But there it is. The thought of my brother having sex is gross. So if you guys do it, I don’t want to know.”



Darcy made an X over her heart. “My lips will be sealed.”



“He’s probably gorgeous,” Mia added thoughtfully. “Joe naked. I wonder if he has any scars, you know, from wounds and stuff.”



There was a noise in the hall. Both Darcy and Mia turned toward the open door. Joe stood there. Darcy couldn’t read the expression on his face, but it seemed to be an intriguing combination of horror and fear.



Mia sighed. “He heard the naked part,” she said in a mock whisper.



Darcy did her best not to laugh. “Possibly even the sex part.” She cleared her throat. “Hi, Joe. We were just talking about you.”



Joe’s dark gaze locked with her own. For a second, she would have sworn he’d vowed payback. Then he turned on his heel and left.



Mia started to laugh. Darcy joined in. She laughed until tears filled her eyes and she could barely breathe. Until that minute she would have said getting kidnapped was one of the worst things that had ever happened to her, but suddenly, she wondered if maybe it hadn’t been so bad after all.



7



D arcy was up early because, well, not sleeping had a way of making a person face the dawn. She stood at her bedroom window, watching pale light creep across the vineyards. Suddenly her fingers itched for a pencil. She wanted to capture the moment, the changing light, the way the dew sparkled on the leaves.



She would never make it as an artist, she acknowledged, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, then quickly brushing her hair. It was the reason she’d studied graphic arts and advertising in college. But not having an abundance of talent didn’t stop her from wanting to capture the world with a quick sketch on a perfect morning.



She collected her supplies, then quietly made her way downstairs. The house was still. Reasonable, normal people wouldn’t be up for at least another hour. Which meant she could sneak outside and enjoy the morning in solitude.



As the thought formed, she felt a tendril of fear snake along her spine. Did she want to be alone? Was it safe?



“Not going there,” Darcy muttered. She pushed the questions away, along with the chill, and focused on the chance to just be for an hour or so.



But when she stepped outside, she saw an unfamiliar Secret Service agent in a car by the back door. He got out of the car as soon as he saw her.



“Morning, Ms. Jensen.”



“Morning. And it’s Darcy.”



He nodded. “How can I help you?”



Part of her wanted to forget it. To just go back into the house and wait until all this was over. But a stronger voice in her head told her that she couldn’t wait much longer without going crazy. She had to start doing something.



“I want to draw the vineyard this morning,” she said, holding up her sketch pad. “I’m guessing it will take about an hour.”



“Okay. Give me a second.” He picked up a walkie-talkie and spoke into it.



No doubt getting permission, she thought glumly. What if they said no?



Before she could decide on a course of action, she felt a slight prickling between her shoulder blades. She turned and saw Joe coming out of the house.



Contradictory emotions warred within her. Part of her wondered why she couldn’t spend five minutes alone outside of her bedroom. Another part of her acknowledged that if someone had to disturb the quiet, she wouldn’t mind if it was Joe.



“You’re up early,” she said.



“Old habits,” he told her.



She waited for him to comment on her being awake as well, but he didn’t. Instead he nodded at the pad and pencils.



“Hoping for inspiration?” he asked.



“I was, but it’s turning out to be a big deal.”



The Secret Service agent put down the walkie-talkie. “Okay, I’m ready,” he said, then spoke into his ever-present wrist communicator. “Pigeon is leaving. Repeat, Pigeon is leaving.”



Joe raised his eyebrows.



“Don’t say it,” Darcy told him. “My father is Falcon, my sister is Swan, and I’m Pigeon. Does the Secret Service have a sense of humor or what?”



Joe stepped toward the other man. “Why don’t you stay here,” he told him. “I’ll go with our bird friend while she draws.”



The agent frowned. “I’m supposed to be with Ms. Jensen, ah, Darcy, as protection.”



“Check with Paige,” Joe said. “She’ll clear it.” Then, without waiting for approval, he returned to Darcy’s side and pointed toward the vineyard. “Let’s go.”



“Pretty smooth,” she said when they were out of earshot and walking through vines heavy with grapes. “You said to contact Paige, not Alex, knowing she’s the softer touch.”



“Uh-huh.”



“What makes you think it’s easier for me to have you along than the other agent?”



“I don’t call you Ms. Jensen.”



She smiled. “Good point.” And in truth, she didn’t mind having Joe around.



“Where are we going?” he asked.



“Not a clue. We’ll walk until I find inspiration.”



They continued walking, she in front, he right behind. Dew spattered her arms and soaked her jeans. There was a peacefulness to the quiet, and a sense of safety. As if nothing bad could ever happen here.



At the other end of that plot of grapes they found a narrow dirt track. Darcy paused to survey the miles of grapes and a cluster of trees to the west.



“That way,” she said, pointing. As they followed the path, they were able to walk side by side.



“I talked to my sister last night,” she said. “They’re holding her on some farm in the Midwest. She’s surrounded by cornfields. When I told her about the wine, she was very jealous.”



Joe looked at her. “You shouldn’t discuss your location, even on a secure line.”



Darcy grinned. She liked messing with him—it was a little like pulling a tiger’s tail—dangerous but very exhilarating.



“You think?” she asked with a grin. “Don’t worry, my little SEAL friend. I told her I was in Washington state. They make wine there, too. But as you’re a part of all this, I’m guessing you already know that.”



He shrugged.



She studied him. “How much, exactly, do you know about wine?”



“I’m a beer drinker myself.”



She winced. “That can’t be good. Aren’t you interested in wine?”



“No.”



“But it’s your heritage. It’s in your blood.”



“I want salt water in my blood.”



The man was nothing if not consistent, she thought. Still, to have so much right there for the taking. “I envy you,” she said quietly. “It’s just my father, my sister, and me. And I don’t get along all that well with Mr. President.” For reasons she had never discussed with anyone. “Which means it’s pretty much Lauren and me. We’re close, although we’re not that much alike. She’s perfect and I’m—”



As she spoke, she stumbled on a loose rock in the road. Before she could catch her balance on her own, Joe grabbed her arm and pulled her upright.



They stood there, in the center of the road, his hand on her arm, his fingers touching bare skin. They were close enough for her to feel the heat from his body and his slow, steady breathing. She could see the various colors of brown that colored his irises and the faint scar on the edge of his jaw.



Her stomach clenched in anticipation, which was crazy. Nothing was going to happen.



But for the moment, that single heartbeat of time, she wanted it to. She wanted him to…oh, who knew. Kiss her? Say something sweet? She wasn’t particularly picky, as long as he acknowledged the connection between them.



But he didn’t, and she started to feel awkward. She pulled free of his grasp.



“Obviously Lauren is the perfect one,” she said with a laugh that didn’t exactly sound real. “I’m the clumsy one.”



“You’re still not sleeping.”



“I know. Some. A little.”



“Hardly at all.”



Annoyance replaced her awareness of him. “Haven’t we already had this particular conversation? If you recall, it didn’t end well.”



“If the objective isn’t achieved on the first mission, the team doesn’t give up.”



She glared at him. “There are so many things wrong with that statement, I don’t know where to begin. For one thing, you’re not a team, and I’m sure as hell not a mission.”



He shifted uncomfortably. “You know what I mean.”



“I do, and it’s insulting.”



“Darcy, you can’t avoid what happened forever. It’s not going away until you deal with it. The longer you wait the harder it gets.”



She didn’t want to hear that. She wanted to continue to think that the fear would one day just be gone.



“Go away,” she said, turning her back on him.



He put his hand on her shoulder and moved her until they were facing each other again. “No can do. Look, I understand. You think I don’t, but you’re wrong. I’ve been scared and alone and bad things have happened to me, too. I can help.”



She refused to cooperate. Instead of speaking, she pressed her lips together.



He looked at her. “You’re stubborn.”



“It’s one of my best qualities.”



“Want to take a poll on that?” He lowered his hand from her shoulder and sighed heavily. “Here’s the thing,” he said. “I’ve had years of training and experience. You didn’t have any. When I walk into a dangerous situation I expect trouble, but you were just minding your own business at the mall. Those bastards grabbed you with no warning, and the people whose job it is to protect you screwed up. They weren’t there and they didn’t notice. You were totally and completely alone.”