Rita replied. “Unfortunately, there aren’t many leads to follow.” Rita shook her head. “I can’t imagine having to bury a child, even a child who was thirty years old at the time of her murder.”
“It doesn’t seem to have slowed down her father. What’s he on now—his third or fourth wife?” Patrick asked.
“Third wife,” Rita replied. “This current one is a former showgirl considerably younger than him. Rumor has it that the thrill is gone and the marriage is in trouble.”
“I’m sorry that Harold lost a daughter, but I’m even sorrier that David and Mick lost their mother,” Marisa said.
Patrick smiled ruefully. “From all accounts, she wasn’t much of a mother.”
“I know, but I still feel bad for those little boys,” Marisa replied.
“Just don’t get too emotionally involved,” Rita said with a gentle smile.
Marisa laughed. “Aunt Rita, I’ve been a nanny for quite some time now. I know how to separate myself from my little charges. I never lose track of the fact that I’m only in their lives temporarily.”
Rita was the only person on the face of the earth who knew what had happened to Marisa in college. Eventually if she and Patrick decided to marry, she’d have to tell him before any vows were exchanged. But it was far too early in their relationship for deep, dark secrets to be exposed.
The rest of the dinner was pleasant, and when they were finished Patrick excused himself from the table and disappeared down the hallway toward the bathroom while Marisa and Rita began to clear the table.
“I like him,” Rita said as she rinsed off one of the dinner plates. This was only the second time Patrick and Rita had shared any real quality time together. Rita had entertained them over dinner a week earlier.
“He is great, isn’t he?” Marisa handed her another plate. “He couldn’t wait to get to know you better. He knows how important you are to me.”
Although Marisa’s parents were lovely people, they’d never really understood their daughter’s desire to make her own way in the world rather than follow them into the very lucrative family real estate business.
Marisa had always been particularly close to her father’s sister, Rita. It had been Rita who Marisa had confided in when her world had fallen apart in college.
“How are you doing?” Marisa asked and gestured to the bandage on the side of Rita’s head. She and Jenna Rothchild had been kidnapped, and Rita had suffered a gunshot wound to the head. It had rendered her unconscious, and although she and Jenna had managed to get away neither of them had been able to identify the man responsible or why they had been kidnapped in the first place.
“I’m okay—a little headache now and then, but that’s all,” Rita replied. “You’re taking things slow with Patrick?”
“Absolutely. I want to marry once in my life. I’m not about to jump into anything too intense too fast.”
Rita smiled. “I think Patrick has other ideas. He seems quite smitten with you.”
At that moment he walked back into the kitchen and any further conversation with him as the topic halted.
After cleaning up the kitchen, the three of them moved into the living room where the conversation revolved around Las Vegas life, Patrick’s work and a new casino that had opened in town. Rita never discussed her work, but she was a charming hostess who kept the conversation flowing until Patrick and Marisa decided to call it a night.
It was just after nine when Patrick pulled up in front of the small house Marisa rented. “I like your aunt,” he said.
“She liked you, too,” Marisa replied.
“What’s not to like?” He flashed her a bright smile.
“I’d invite you in, but I really want to get a good night’s sleep before the morning,” she said as he parked the car.
“Am I going to see you at all over the next week?” he asked.
“Probably not,” Marisa admitted. “The first week in a new position is always pretty intense. But it’s just for a week, Patrick.” She opened the passenger door and got out.
Patrick got out of the car as well and fell into step next to her. He grabbed her hand in his as they walked to her front porch. “And what happens after the first week? What if you take the position for the next couple months? Does that mean I won’t be able to see you the whole time?”
She disentangled her hand from his to reach into her purse for her keys. “Not at all. If Jack Cortland and I agree that he needs my services for that long, then I always make sure I have most weekends off.”
She unlocked her door then turned back to face him. “Good night, Patrick.” She reached up and kissed him on his smooth cheek, but he quickly pulled her into his arms for a real kiss.
It was pleasant, but it didn’t curl her toes or weaken her knees. When the kiss ended he reluctantly released her. “Then I guess I’ll see you in a week or so?”
“I’ll call you and let you know how things are going,” she replied.
“You know I’ll be waiting for your calls,” he replied.
She watched as he walked back to his car. He was a man who could easily turn female heads. Tall and slim, with the dark features of his Hispanic heritage, he always dressed with an understated elegance and looked both handsome and successful.
Minutes later as she undressed in her bedroom she thought of that kiss and Patrick. Maybe one of the reasons she was attracted to Patrick was because there weren’t wild fireworks when they kissed, there wasn’t that sizzle that came from a simple touch and the breathlessness of a mere glance.
She’d experienced that crazy hot passion once in her life and never wanted it again. It had destroyed her life, and the thought of feeling that way again frightened her.
She pulled her red silk nightgown over her head, turned out the light and crawled into bed. Maybe real love was just that faint warmth that filled her when Patrick smiled at her or the quiet friendship they were building together.
She frowned as she thought of Jack Cortland. So what was it about him that had caused that sizzle inside her? Why did a man she had little respect for, given his past, fill her with a wild sense of anticipation at the very thought of seeing him again?
Jack worked until almost three in the morning cleaning the house. The boys had finally fallen asleep around eleven. He’d moved them into their bedroom, then had tackled the living room with a vengeance.
Toys went back into the boys’ room, dirty plates and cups carried back to the kitchen. He polished and washed and vacuumed until the room looked presentable. Then he went into the guest room that Marisa would call home and cleaned it as well.
It had needed to be done for the past couple months, but the days were so full with keeping the boys occupied and trying to oversee the work being done on the ranch. By the time the boys fell asleep at night Jack was comatose, and cleaning was the
