Free Heather Graham by Siren from the Sea Page B

lighted entryway seemed to burst upon them. Flynn drove beneath the portico. Before he had brought the car to a halt, two men attired in dark suits were at both doors, opening them politely.
    “ Buenas noches , Señor Flynn,” they seemed to chorus.
    White-gloved hands helped Brittany to the tiled walk. “ Buenas noches , Roberto, Alfredo.” He tossed his keys to the dark young man he had addressed as Roberto. “This is Señorita Martin; I’m sure you’ll be seeing her again.”
    Pleasant, mumbled Spanish came her way. Brittany murmured something in return, then Flynn was taking her arm to lead her to the house.
    The front door was opened. Another man in a black tux was there to greet them. “Señor Colby—it is good to see you. Señor Drury was growing anxious.”
    “We are a little late, aren’t we, Oliver?” Flynn smiled and again turned to Brittany. “Brittany, Oliver. Should you ever need anything while at Ian’s home, Oliver is the man to see. Oliver, I would like you to meet Ms. Brittany Martin. I believe—if we’re lucky—she’ll be with us for the summer.”
    “Ms. Martin, I am at your service.” Oliver bowed to her. He was an Englishman, very tall and straight, with iron-gray hair.
    “Thank you, Oliver,” Brittany said. He nodded and stepped aside.
    Flynn led Brittany onward through the foyer. There were plants everywhere, it seemed, vines and flowers, curling around a grillwork that lined the walls. The foyer was larger than her entire house in Florida.
    Brittany felt the touch of Flynn’s warm whisper against her ear. “And now, my love, you are about to face the lions.”
    She glanced his way quickly. He was smiling, but he was watching her curiously. She returned his smile. “Lions? They’ll be lovely, I’m certain.”
    His secretive smile remained curled in place. Brittany heard light, pattering footsteps hurrying up a pair of stairs that seemed to lead to a sunken grand room beyond the grill.
    “Flynn! You come up with a mermaid, and we’re all just dying of curiosity to meet her, and you make your appearance late. How rude! But then you never did really stand by ceremony, did you, darling?”
    The footsteps—and the soft, sultry voice belonged to one of the most lovely women Brittany had ever seen. She was elegantly tall, elegantly slim—but very curvacious. Her hair was ebony black, free about one shoulder, caught back against the other ear by a blood-red flower. Her gown was not low cut, just slashed to give the advantage to that one bare shoulder. Her eyes, like her hair, appeared to be jet; her face was shaped much like a heart, the lines beautiful, the skin golden and beautifully clear. Her mouth was a bow, generous and full and red, and her smile was deep and genuine.
    Flynn was returning her affectionate gaze. Brittany suddenly felt short; she had been confident about her gown and appearance, but now that confidence seemed to be ebbing away.
    “Rose … hello.” Flynn took both her hands, and kissed her cheek. They knew each other very well, Brittany decided, withdrawing defensively to a position of objectivity. She was here to watch and to learn … to catch a thief.
    Neither of them was rude; they both turned to her immediately. “Rose, I’d like you to meet my mermaid. Miss Brittany—”
    “Martin, of the United States,” Rose interrupted and finished, offering Brittany a hand that was long-fingered, longer nailed, and bedecked with a massive sapphire, fine gold bands, and even tiny studs of diamond chips set into each long nail. But her touch was a firm one; the handshake as warm as her smile. “Brittany, I’m Rose Montelbello and it’s a true pleasure to welcome you!”
    “Thank you,” Brittany murmured. Rose gave Flynn a wry glance and slipped an arm through Brittany’s, leading her on ahead. “That he pulled you from the sea, how exciting! You must tell me all about it at dinner. I had my own escapade with El Drago, did you know?”
    “No—”