Little White Lies Page 8

  Calle del Cristo was an intimate strip of cobblestone streets, quaint shops and small galleries. Madalyn was fascinated by the grotesque papier-mâché masks depicting colorful evil spirits, and the myriad of saintly figures carved in clay, stone, gold, and cedar wood.

  “Caretas,” Susie said, pointing to the masks. “That’s what they’re called.”

  “And these?” Madalyn asked, picking up a figurine.

  “Those are Santos,” a salesman chimed in. “They’re made by local craftsmen. It’s a tradition going back to the 1500’s. A very good memento.”

  “That’s fascinating,” Madalyn said and picked out a mask with long, pointed horns in red, green, and white for her sister Katie. She would appreciate the artistry and Madalyn already knew the perfect place for it in her house. She paid for it at the counter and made arrangements for it to be shipped directly to her address.

  When they entered a little clothing boutique, Madalyn was drawn to a gorgeous black dress with lots of beaded fringe.

  “A beautiful dress, no?” said an approaching sales woman. “Watch how fluid it is.” Grabbing hold of the mannequin, she rotated it quickly back and forth. “Lovely for the salsa,” she added. “You try it on?”

  Madalyn nodded her head and the saleswoman led her to a back room. “Maria goes get you shoes to try with it,” she said, leaving Madalyn in privacy to change. She shimmied into the form-fitting gown. It fit her like a glove, clinging to every curve of her body. Thin spaghetti straps held the bodice in place and the sheer material ended mid-thigh, but the layers of fringe that began at her waist continued down the gown, stopping slightly above the knee. She twirled in front of the mirror and delighted at the sight of the beaded fringe swaying in the air. It was so much fun. She didn’t own anything like it.

  When Madalyn stepped out of the dressing room, Susie let out a long whistle. “You have to get that dress! Didn’t you say Royce was taking you salsa dancing tonight? It’s perfect.”

  Maria appeared with a pair of black satin shoes with a wide strap up the center of the foot and high but sturdy heels, just right for dancing. As Madalyn tried them on, Maria ran off to another part of the store and returned with a red flower comb fashioned out of silk. She pulled back Madalyn’s hair and placed the comb over her right ear.

  “Beautiful, yes?” Maria asked, pushing Madalyn in front of the mirror.

  “Yes, beautiful. I’ll take it all,” she said and turned to change back into her clothes.

  “No, no, no,” Liz scolded and cut her off. “We’re about to meet Royce at the plaza. Keep it on.”

  “Um, okay,” Madalyn stammered. “But what am I going to do with my stuff?”

  “We’ll take it back to the ship with us,” Susie offered. “We plan to go back anyway to get changed before going out to dinner.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “Here, you’re going to need a purse,” Liz said, handing Madalyn a little sequenced black satchel.

  Madalyn transferred the essentials into the purse and went up to the front of the store to settle up with Maria. She blanched at the total bill but soothed herself with the knowledge that Royce was going to love it.

  Maria escorted them to the door and waved goodbye. They walked past a group of local men chatting in Spanish in front of a bakery, and Madalyn could feel every eye trained on her. She touched the flower in her hair and looked down to make sure she didn’t trip on a cobblestone. A low whistle escaped from one of the men, drawing a shy smile out of her. Liz and Susie broke out in a fit of giggles and flanked her on both sides, as if she needed protection. When they arrived at the plaza, Jason and Mike were waiting for them.

  “Madalyn, you look stunning!” Jason said.

  Susie punched him and furrowed her brows.

  “What?” he asked, rubbing his arm. “Are you jealous?” A silly grin spread across his face and he leaned down to greet her with a kiss.

  “No, she’s not,” Royce said dryly when he walked up. He pulled Madalyn into his embrace. “But I am.” He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a heated kiss, leaving her panting.

  “I don’t like to share what’s mine,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I didn’t realize that I’m yours.”

  “You’re not,” he said softly, caressing her cheek. “But you will be.” And with that he pulled her tighter into him, claiming her lips once more in a lingering kiss.

  “Get a room!” Mike said.

  Royce looked up with a sly smile and properly greeted the group.

  • • •

  Fifteen minutes later Royce hailed a cab and directed the driver to bring them to Aquaviva at the far eastern side of town.

  “Nice dress,” he said, devouring Madalyn with his eyes and igniting a fire between them.

  “I thought you might like it.”

  Her breathing was ragged as she stared at his mouth, wondering what it might do to her later, once he got her out of the dress. Definitely worth the money!

  “Very much,” he murmured, reaching out his hand to place it on her bare leg, slightly above her knee.

  Oh. She glanced at the driver. He was concentrating on the road, oblivious to the fireworks shooting around the back seat of his taxi. Madalyn’s heartbeat crashed against the walls of her chest. She wanted to reach out and touch him there. But she wouldn’t dare in the taxi. He gave her knee a gentle squeeze and winked down at her when they arrived at Aquaviva a few minutes later.

  Royce paid the cab driver and then came around to her side to help her out. He was dressed all in black: black linen shirt open at the neck and tucked into his form-fitting black slacks. It was a good look on him. His shiny black shoes were perfect for a night of salsa. With his dark good looks, he could almost pass for a local. He was hot—and all hers. At least he was for the week.

  The restaurant’s modern design was hip with an eclectic flair—lots of white, black, and stainless steel, with soft white candlelight throughout. Hints of aqua blue lighting and tiles gave it a distinctive Latino feel. She loved it.

  The hostess escorted them through the maze of tables packed with guests to a bar overlooking an open kitchen bustling with chefs. They sat in the high-back bar stools and watched the activity of the kitchen with fascination.

  “I hope you like seafood,” he said, looking over at her.

  “Yes, I love it!”

  “Do you mind if I order for us?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Please do.”

  There was something undeniably romantic about a man ordering the entire meal at a restaurant and she trusted Royce implicitly to choose wisely. The waiter arrived and Royce ordered two each of the fresh Watermelon Vivatini and SoFo Ensalada to start. He continued to peruse the menu, deciding on the entrees.

  “So what is the specialty here?” Madalyn asked, looking around the place. The aqua blue chandeliers were designed to resemble squid floating towards the top of the ocean. It was fascinating.

  “Oysters and Ceviche,” he said. His eyes lit up in anticipation of something delicious.

  “Ceviche?” she asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “You’ll enjoy it, I promise. They start with fresh raw fish and marinate it in citrus juices, usually lemon or lime, and then spice it up with aji peppers.”

  “You want me to eat raw fish?” she asked, wiggling her nose in disgust.

  “Try it,” he scolded. “The citrus denatures the fish—you’ll never believe it’s raw. It tastes delicious!”

  She was skeptical but agreed to try it—for him.

  The waiter returned with their drinks and Royce ordered a trio of ceviche and the grilled wild salmon entree.

  Madalyn took a sip of her delicious drink, and turned to Royce. “What did you do this evening while I was shopping?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, placing it on the bar in front of him.

  Her eyes flashed up to his. Oh.

  “Open it,” he encouraged, pushing the little
velvet box in front of her.

  She couldn’t explain why, but her hands were shaking. She opened the box and revealed an exquisite Marquise cut diamond in a platinum solitaire setting. It was breathtaking.

  “I can’t accept this, Royce,” she said, gently shaking her head and pushing it back to him. “This looks expensive. You didn’t have to do this. We can just stop the charade and go to the buffet.”

  He pulled the ring out of its velvet bed and turned to her.

  “Please let me do this, Madalyn. It’s not as expensive as it looks.”

  Her right brow rose. She knew a little about engagement rings and this one looked like the real deal. What was his definition of expensive? He grabbed her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. He kissed the tips of her fingers and gazed into her eyes.

  “Do you like it?”

  She nodded and stared, entranced by the sparkling gem. Her lips curved up and she glanced at Royce. “It’s exquisite. You have excellent taste.”

  “Yes I do,” he returned, smiling down at her. “Say you’ll be mine.”

  She sighed. He always said the sweetest things. Why on earth was he still single? “I’m all yours for the next four days.”

  “Four days,” he said and sealed their agreement with a kiss.

  “What about you?” she asked concerned. “I didn’t get you a ring.”

  He laughed and held up his left hand, pointing to a matching platinum ring, “I told you I’d take care of it, baby.”

  She giggled and shook her head. “Are you always so efficient?”

  “I aim to please.”

  “You’re an overachiever. My world is in serious danger of tipping over, you’ve rocked it so hard!”

  The waiter appeared with their salads and they both immediately dug in. The fresh mango balsamic vinaigrette was light and refreshing with the mixed greens and cucumber. “What is this?” Madalyn asked Royce after biting into something sweet and crunchy. She couldn’t quite place it but it reminded her a little of water chestnut.

  “It’s called jicama; it kind of looks like a turnip.”

  “Oh. It’s tastes really good.”

  He smiled at her and nodded his head in agreement.

  Twenty minutes flew by as she told him about her evening with the girls and the wonderful things she saw and ate. Her hands and body took an active role in her tale. Royce turned in his seat facing her with one leg supporting him on the ground, his bottom leaning against his stool and his arm draped lightly across the back of her chair. He hung on her every word, jumping in periodically to ask questions, and smiling at her first impressions of the city.

  He hopped back on his stool when the ceviche arrived.

  “Try this one first,” he said, bringing a forkful of spicy Mahi Mahi to her mouth.

  Madalyn eyed the fork and winced before she took a bite of the fish covered in cherry tomato sauce. It had a crisp, spicy taste and amazing texture.

  “Yum,” she smiled. “That’s good. What gives it the kick?”

  “Sriracha chili,” he said, taking a bite of the dish.

  “What’s next?” she asked after a few more bites of the Mahi Mahi.

  “Chillo y Aquacate Fresco,” he teased in fluent Spanish. “Red snapper with avocado.”

  She cocked her brow at him. “I should’ve known you could speak Spanish,” she said. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  He paused and furrowed his brow in deep thought before shaking his head. “No.”

  She gave him a swift kick under the bar.

  “Ow,” he cried out in feigned pain. “Alright, I don’t know how to use a washing machine.”

  Madalyn’s amused chuckle erupted from her chest. “Who does your laundry?”

  “Sandra.”

  “Who’s Sandra?” she asked with a sideways glance. A pang of jealousy punched her in the gut. She knew she was being irrational but she couldn’t help it.

  “My maid.”

  “You have a maid?” she asked somewhat surprised at his admission. Madalyn didn’t know anyone with a maid—except for Veronica.

  “Yes. Doesn’t everyone?” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “No.”

  “Oh,” he paused. “Well you should. It’s great.”

  She shook her head at him. He was impossible—impossibly wonderful. She reached over and filled her fork with the last variety of ceviche. This one was yummy too.

  He answered her question before she could express it. “Grouper with piquant yellow aji peppers.”

  She sat back in her chair, defeated. “I can’t eat another bite.”

  “But you haven’t tried the grilled wild salmon,” he said disappointed. “You’ll love it. It comes with spinach guiso and candied tomato marmalade.”

  “I promise to have at least one bite,” she said. “How did you find this place, Royce?”

  “My brother told me about it. Mark’s been here several times. He’s a big fan of San Juan and likes to come here to sail. The waters are calm and beautiful.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “Do you like to sail as well?”

  “Sure.”

  “Expensive sport,” she acknowledged.

  “Expensive is a relative term.”

  She cocked another brow at him but didn’t push the matter. The last of their food arrived within minutes and Royce devoured it just as fast. Where did it all go? She was jealous that the man could eat like a horse and still have an amazing body.

  Royce settled the bill. She tried to offer to cover her share but he wouldn’t hear of it. He took her hand and led her out onto the cobblestone streets of Old San Juan. It was dark outside except for the soft glow of the street lamps. The warm night air caressed Madalyn’s bare shoulders and she inhaled deeply.

  “The nightclub is down a couple of streets,” Royce gestured. “Can you make it in those shoes or should I grab a cab?”

  “I’m sure I can make it if we take it slow,” she said and began walking with him down the road.

  “Have you ever been salsa dancing?” he asked, glancing over at her.

  “No,” she admitted, looking away.

  “Brave girl, but judging from our night at the disco, I think you’ll do just fine.”

  “Do you know how to salsa?” Madalyn asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  Why didn’t he want to fess up? Madalyn gave him a sideways glance and poked him in the ribs. “How did you learn to salsa, Royce?”

  He cleared his throat and rubbed his chin with his hand. “My mother wanted to learn after watching Dancing With the Stars when it premiered. My father refused to go with her, so she asked me.”

  “Royce, that is so sweet,” Madalyn gushed. A brilliant smile swept over her face and her cheeks glowed. It was a very sweet and loving gesture.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes and smiling down at her.

  “Wait.” She stopped and threw her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed on him and her heart sank for a fraction of a second. “You’re not a mama’s boy, are you?”

  His eyes grew wide and horrified, as if his secret had finally been revealed. “No! I’m not,” he laughed.

  “Whew … ” she said. “You had me worried for a minute.”

  He suddenly paused and cocked his head to the side. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

  She turned her head and listened intently. She could hear the sound of bongos and horns caught in a lively, almost frenzied beat.

  “That’s the sound of salsa,” he said, pulling her close to him and extending her right arm straight out. Grinding their hips in a grand circle he held her tight, then twirled her round and round. Madalyn giggled as she was twirling and planted a hot kiss on Royce’s lips when she landed back in his arms.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he smiled down at her. “You’ll do just fine.”

  Madalyn was not as confident, but she w
as willing to try.

  They walked down a dark alley off the beaten path, and approached the Nuyorican Café. Madalyn gave Royce a skeptical look when they entered the little hole-in-the-wall establishment. It was a total dive bar, but packed with patrons dancing on the tiny dance floor, around tables and by the bar—wherever they could find a space. A live band with congas, bongos, horns, and a piano was playing to the rowdy crowd. The female singer had a thick, sultry voice and shook her hips provocatively to the tempo of the maracas she played.

  Royce gave Madalyn a broad smile and led her over to the bar where he ordered two of the local beer on tap. She nursed her beer while watching the dancers on the floor. Her right foot tapped along to the rhythm of the music. Royce rubbed her lower back, making a slow but definite trail down towards her behind. She was glad for the skimpy dress; it was warm with so many patrons packed inside the small space.

  Gazing out onto the dance floor, Madalyn was amazed at how professional some of the couples looked. There were some beginners for sure, but for the most part, the crowd looked like they knew what they were doing. The atmosphere was fun and light, not pretentious like some of the new trendy places in Chicago. One young couple kept switching partners. Curious, she asked Royce what he thought they were doing.

  “They’re probably from a local studio,” he surmised, “trying to drum up some business by giving out free lessons.”

  Madalyn smiled up at Royce, “I’d like you to continue our lessons. You’re an excellent instructor.”

  She turned back to watch the crowd and was taken by surprise when the young man approached them, holding out his hand to her with a broad smile of encouragement. Oh, hell no! Madalyn adamantly shook her head no, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He grabbed her hand and began to lead her out onto the dance floor. She glanced back at Royce, pleading with her eyes for him to save her, but he chuckled, shaking his head, and mouthed, “Have fun.”

  What happened to not liking to share what’s his?