look on her face and the way she was suddenly clutching her stomach.
“Are you all right?” she asked, leaning toward her with concern.
“I don’t think the tequila killed the bugs like I was hoping,” Beth muttered.
Carolyn bit her lip. “Do you want to go back to our villa? We can give dinner a miss tonight and just—”
“No, no, Genie is supposed to meet us here,” Bethany interrupted, and then her gaze slid past Carolyn and she brightened. “Oh look, a table has opened up. Why don’t you take our drinks over while I go vomit.”
Carolyn glanced instinctively over her shoulder to see a couple leaving a table on the lower deck overlooking the beach. She then glanced sharply back as Bethany’s last word sank in, but Beth was off her stool and already weaving through the crowd toward the washrooms between the open-air bar/restaurant and the fancier dining establishment beside it.
“I’ll bring your drinks,” the bartender announced, scooping up the two full wineglasses and her shot. When he started around the bar, she stood, thinking she’d claim the table, but if Beth took more than a couple moments, she’d check on her.
Carolyn started to walk, but bit her lip when the room shifted a bit around her. It seemed the tequila was hitting her already. Great, she thought, following carefully as the bartender led the way through the crowd.
When he paused suddenly, she glanced around his shoulder to see that a couple had approached the table from the opposite direction.
“It’s okay,” Carolyn said to the bartender at once. “We can wait at the bar.”
“No, no, no,” he said beaming from her to the couple.
“The table sits four. You can share and make friends.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Carolyn said, cringing at the very idea as her gaze slid over the young couple.
They looked to be about twenty-five or so. The man was dark-haired and dark eyed with the swarthy good looks of an Italian. He was also smiling faintly, one possessive arm around the woman; a curvaceous, auburn-haired beauty who was peering at Carolyn with a discomfiting interest.
Definitely honeymooners, she thought unhappily.
“Don’t be silly.” The woman suddenly beamed. “We’d be happy to share. We’re only waiting for our table to open up in the restaurant next door.”
“So are this pretty lady and her friend,” the bartender announced happily, setting the glasses down and moving to pull out a chair for Carolyn even as the other man pulled out one for his wife.
Carolyn gave in and said, “Thank you,” as she slid into the chair.
After asking the couple what they’d like, the bartender slipped away to get their order.
“Well, this is lovely,” the woman said with a pleased little sigh and then held out her hand. “I’m Marguerite Argeneau.”
“Argeneau-Notte,” the man corrected gently, pronouncing it Ar-zsa-no-No-tay, and the woman blinked, then laughed with embarrassment.
“Marguerite Argeneau-Notte,” she admitted wryly, and explained, “It’s new. I’m not used to it yet.”
Carolyn managed a smile and accepted the offered hand as the woman continued, “And this is my wonderful husband, Julius Notte.”
“Carolyn Connor.” She held on to her smile as the man now took her hand in a firm, warm grip, then sat back and cleared her throat. “Honeymooners?”
“Yes,” Marguerite chuckled. “But we’ve been married for weeks. I should be adjusting to the name change by now.”
“You’ve been here for weeks?” Carolyn asked with interest.
“Oh, no. We only arrived a couple days ago,” Marguerite said. “We had some family matters to tend to back in Canada before we started our honeymoon.”
“Oh.” Carolyn blinked. “You’re Canadian?”
“I am.” Marguerite smiled. “You?”
“Yes, Toronto.” Carolyn lifted her wineglass to her lips, but paused and set it back down thinking perhaps it would be better to switch to water or Diet Coke. She really wasn’t much of a drinker and didn’t want to end up in the bathroom stall next to Bethany. That thought made her glance in the direction her friend had disappeared to as she wondered if she should go check on her now.
“What a small world. I’m from Toronto too,” Marguerite said happily, reclaiming her attention.
“Are you?” Carolyn asked turning back.
Marguerite nodded, and then smiled at her husband and leaned into the arm he’d placed along the back of her chair, adding, “But Julius is from Italy, so we are going to split our time between Canada and Italy for now despite the fact that his business and family are in Italy.”
“You’d miss your family if we stayed only in Italy, cara. I want you happy.”