A Proposal Worth Waiting For. Raye Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      She shook herself to get rid of the dream and forced her focus back on the hike. Marge was calling out instructions.

      “If you keep a sharp eye out, you may just catch sight of sea otters hanging around that black rock you see there in the bay,” she was calling back to everyone. “And up the beach a bit, you’ll see sea lions basking in the morning sun.”

      Their group consisted of Phoebe and Frank, Lyla and the Texan and Torie herself. And, of course, Marge, their fearless leader.

      It was a beautiful morning but Torie couldn’t conjure up much interest in the scenery. She was wondering what Carl was getting into and if Marc was there to stop him. She should be there, too. What was she doing going on a nature hike when time was racing, running away from her? She needed to get back to the project at hand.

      Last night hadn’t done her much good, but it had clarified a few issues. She knew now that Carl wasn’t interested in buying Shangri-La, never had been. What she didn’t know was what he was after. Something, that was for sure. And he seemed pretty crazed about getting to his goal.

      One of the first things she planned to do was to see if she could find some of the old employees, someone who might remember her father. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. But surely someone knew someone. In order to get to a position to make any headway, she would have to get friendly with an employee.

      The Greeks were crooks and they were gone. The Texan wanted to find evidence of gold-mine potential on the property. Marge wanted to get enough money to head for the Bahamas—maybe with Jimmy in tow. So what about Phoebe and Frank? Maybe they actually wanted to buy the property. Who knew?

      Marc didn’t want his ancestral home sold out from under him. Torie could understand that. And he didn’t trust her, but he didn’t hate her either. Would that change? Would he start to hate her once he knew....knew about the little bag of Spanish gold doubloons she had hidden in the lining of her suitcase? She shuddered and closed her eyes, stricken and breathless just thinking about it. She had to find the truth—find it before anyone found those doubloons.

      The sea lions came into view. Barking nastily, they flopped their huge bodies on the warm sand and threatened each other with dire warnings of terrible sea-lion battles to come. The little tour gathered around the edge of the cliff and stared down at them, fascinated. There was nothing cuddly about these beasts.

      “Take pictures,” Marge advised. “But don’t try to go down and get close to them. They’re not friendly and just might hurt you if they get mad enough.”

      Lyla came to stand next to Torie as they watched the noisy animals complain about their lot in life.

      “They remind me of some ladies I lunch with,” Lyla said with a laugh. “Never happy.” She turned to look at Torie. “So, are you and Carl ready to make a bid on this place?”

      Torie laughed. That seemed so far from her reality now. “Not yet, I’m afraid. How about you?”

      Lyla sighed. “I do love it.” She arched one carefully painted eyebrow. “Now if the son came as part of the estate, I might do some serious thinking about it.”

      “You mean Marc?” Torie said, stunned at the thought. “I doubt he’s for sale.”

      “Oh no, honey.” Lyla was the one laughing now. “Everybody’s for sale. You just have to find the right price.”

      She was still laughing as she started toward the other side of the area, as though she found Torie immensely naive and it really amused her. Torie bit her lower lip to keep from saying something mean, but the encounter didn’t improve her mood.

      The incessant barking of the seals was setting her nerves on edge. She turned away from the cliff, shading her eyes and looking back toward the house. As though summoned by her impatience, a large horse appeared, coming toward them.

      She stood where she was, transfixed, staring at the approaching animal. And then it got close enough to make out the identity of the rider. Marc, of course.

      Marc. She felt as though there was something glowing inside her. She knew he was coming for her. She stood where she was and waited.

      “Oh look,” Lyla cried, noticing him too and beginning to wave. “Marc’s got a horse. Oh, I love riding! Marc! Over here!”

      As he rode closer, his mother started yelling at him, but he didn’t pay any attention to her. The horse was big and black, a beautiful mare, and he reined her in as he came near, making her walk softly up to where Torie was waiting.

      She resisted the temptation to give Lyla a smile, but she had one for Marc.

      “Come on,” he said, leaning down and reaching for her hand. “I want to take you to the village. There’s someone there you’re going to want to talk to.”

      She reached up to meet him and he pulled her up in front of him, effortlessly. She slipped into place with hardly a wasted move. Marge was still yelling. She looked back and smiled at them all. And then they were off.

      They rode along the edge of the cliff, the blue ocean on one side, the stand of tall, green eucalyptus trees on the other. Torie felt glorious. The wind was in her hair, Marc’s hard, strong arm was around her, holding her in place, and the large, wonderful horse was beneath them. The whole scene was magical and she knew she would never forget it. If nothing else, she would always have this.

      When she saw the village ahead, she knew the magic would be fading, and she regretted it. If only they could always ride like this...on and on and into the night. This felt like something she’d been born for.

      She leaned back and his face was there, near her ear.

      “You want to go down by the beach before we go to the village?” he asked her.

      She sighed and nodded. “Yes,” she told him. “Let’s do it.”

      There was a dirt road down the hill and then a paved road that came in and led to a boat-launching area. The beach was deserted. Sea gulls dove at them, then retreated to a nearby buoy to call at them from a safe distance.

      She slid down off the horse and he swung down after her. They stood side by side, staring out to where the waves crashed outside the breakwater.

      “Why is the movement of water so mesmerizing?” she asked him.

      “I don’t know.” He turned to look at her, eyes hooded. “Maybe something in us wants to return to the sea.”

      There was a sense of danger in his gaze that disturbed her and she looked back toward the water.

      “When I was a little girl,” she told him after a moment of silence, “I loved The Little Mermaid movie. I would wander around, leaning against the furniture and looking lovesick, singing the Ariel song until everyone around me went mad with it.” She laughed softly, remembering. “They were threatening to tape my mouth shut if I didn’t cease and desist.”

      He grinned, looking at her sideways. He remembered hearing her singing in the old days. That must have been why she’d sounded so familiar when she’d sung in the fog. “Don’t tell me you actually caved in.”

      She gave him a look of pure cheek. “What? You think I’m a complete narcissist?”

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