“If I can’t remember what I did, how can I re-create anything?”
She threw out her hands. “But if you can’t remember that, how do you know you produced something of genius in the first place?”
He stared at her for a moment, said something rude in Italian, then gave an extravagant shrug. “I just know.”
She shook her head, as though despairing of him, and his face lost some of its hardness as he smiled at her. “And anyway, if I could remember what was on those plans, I wouldn’t need them so badly, now would I?”
“You are maddening,” she pronounced, taking a long sip of her drink and giving him a mock glare over the rim of the glass. “But then, they do say genius is a form of insanity, don’t they?”
He shook his head as though she were a trial, but a cute one. “All right, Shayna, I’ll try to explain to you. I’ve been designing sailing ships all my life. It is my life. But I’ve only been getting major international recognition over the last few years.”
She nodded. “I’m sure you deserve it,” she murmured.
“I do,” he said boldly. “I’ve made some important innovations. The people I work for are very rich and they don’t throw their money away on useless developments. They want to win races. They hire me to help them do that.”
“I understand.”
“But I’m not the only one. There are a hundred designers who would like to take my place. Many of them work night and day, trying to beat me to the punch on new ideas, trying to win. You understand?”
“Of course.”
“And some even cheat.”
She waved a hand in the air. “That goes without saying.”
He nodded. “Lately there is a man who is following closely in my footsteps. Salvo Ricktorre is very good, and he’s always just one step behind me.” He made a very Italian gesture with his hands. “I can feel his breath on my neck. He seems to come up with ideas very similar to mine very soon after I have them. I’ve developed the habit of keeping my sketches and blueprints in very secure places, just to be sure he isn’t seeing them.”
She nodded approvingly. “That sounds like a wise thing to do.”
“Yes. So when my plans go missing, I can’t help but wonder if he has something to do with it.”
That garnered a small frown, but she still said, “Understandable.”
He sat back and looked pleased that she concurred. “Of course.”
She nodded slowly. He was leaving something out. Should she bring it up? Should she mention her father? It might be a good way to smoke him out—if he was giving her a snow job. And if he was on the level—well, that would be obvious, wouldn’t it?
She bit her lip nervously. It was a risk. If he was on the level, and he really had forgotten everything from those two weeks, bringing up her father’s name and then looking him straight in the eye might just jog his memory in ways she wasn’t going to be happy with. Still she almost felt it had to be done. Taking in a deep breath, she prepared to do it.
“Who are you working for right now?” she asked, her heart in her throat as she said the words.
“Right now?” He hesitated, then shrugged and went on. “My most important client is a man named Glendenning Hudson. You may have heard of him.”
She nodded. Her mouth was so dry, she wasn’t sure if she could form words. She forced herself to meet his gaze and then she waited, wondering. Would he remember now?
“He’s crazy, of course,” Marco went on blandly. “Most of these superwealthy people are. But they want the best and if you don’t give it to them, they go to someone who will.”
She nodded again. She certainly agreed that he was “crazy.” That was the whole point.
“Glendenning Hudson,” she said slowly, turning her head but watching him out of the corner of her eye. “Didn’t…didn’t he have a daughter?”
She turned back to face him, her heart beating so hard she was sure he must hear it. It took all her strength to keep from letting him hear how rapid her breathing was now.
He frowned, as though trying to remember. “I think so. Some little party girl who’s the apple of his eye, as I remember. One of those rich girls who grow up too fast and crash and burn too early.”
“Just one of many, huh?” she said a bit breathlessly. “Not particularly memorable.”
“No.” He made a face and shook his head. “I think I saw her once. Someone pointed her out at a restaurant. But I can’t recall anything much about her, actually.”
“Not your type?”
“My type?” He laughed as though it were not even worth considering. “Not at all. I’m not a teenager anymore. I have other things on my mind.”
Despite everything, that stung.
“So only immature boys would be interested in a girl like…” She paused for a moment, then forced herself to say the name she used to use. “Summer Hudson.”
She searched his eyes quickly, but there was nothing to indicate that he had any idea what she was talking about.
“No,” he said casually, leaning back and stretching. “Girls like that spend too much time in rehab to be interesting,” he added.
His words cut into her soul, leaving scars, and she knew that was crazy. What was the matter with her? Of course he despised Summer Hudson. She despised that girl she used to be. She didn’t want to be her anymore. That was exactly why she was here. But it still hurt to know that he didn’t think any more of her than that—that he hadn’t had some magic epiphany when he’d seen her, hadn’t been able to see past the nonsense down to the worthy core.
But then, no one else had, either. It was a good thing she’d escaped all that and come here. At least she had a chance of being a decent person. As long as she stayed.
“Anyway, to get back to my missing plans, you do understand why it is important that I find them?”
She raised her gaze to meet his and she nodded. “Yes. What I don’t understand is exactly what is missing and where they might be.” She challenged him brightly. “And why you are so sure they even exist.”
“Oh, they exist, all right. I couldn’t possibly have gone two weeks without working on something.”
She shrugged. “Then where are they?”
“Good question. That’s what I’m asking you.”
“I haven’t got a clue. I wouldn’t even know for sure what I’m looking for.” She hesitated, knowing there was no hope in dissuading him from this search, but thinking it was worth a meager try at the very least.
“I think you ought to go back home and look in your recovered luggage again. After
