Her angel’s face and vixen’s body made for one attractive package. It’d been a long time since a woman had him so hot and horny. It felt good, really good. Apathy, even toward sex, had dominated his personal life in the past couple years. He’d focused on work to the exclusion of everything else, making his import business the best in the Los Angeles area, while his family spent his money as fast as he could make it.
Putting a lid on that depressing thought, he centered his attention on Mariah.
When he’d walked into the bar a few minutes ago, he couldn’t believe his good luck, not that finding her had been too difficult. There were only a few bars in the small town of Eastsound. Plus, the old pickup truck parked at her house earlier today appeared to be the same one parked a half-block from this bar.
She didn’t have a clue that he sat several feet from her, but she would soon. A guy couldn’t hurry a woman like her. In a moment, Phase One of his carefully planned seduction would commence, and God help them both.
Hell, he hadn’t had this much fun in years.
* * *
Mariah threw her head back and laughed, totally faking it. Heck, she didn’t have a clue what Bob had just said other than it had something to do with tourists he’d taken out on his boat last week.
The five friends met a couple times a month in the small bar in the island’s only Mexican restaurant. The place smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. Sombreros and serapes in garish colors were stapled to a fake stucco wall. Scratchy speakers played what sounded like Mexican polka music, and her feet stuck to the brown tile floor while her arms stuck to the table. She loved the place despite its tacky décor, and as a designer Mariah noticed stuff like that, but on the island a girl didn’t have too many choices when it came to drinking establishments.
She tried to concentrate on the conversation being volleyed around the table, but her mind kept drifting to images of the Latin hunk with the mocha eyes. She sighed as she pulled herself back to reality one more time. What were her friends talking about now? She hadn’t caught a word of it. It’d be her luck someone would ask a question she couldn’t answer.
As always, she was the odd person in a group of couples. Someday, she’d find some poor guy to drag along if she had to pay him just so they wouldn’t pity her for being alone or try to find her a man. She’d been half-tempted to invite Rodrigo to join her tonight. She could just imagine the looks on her friends’ faces if she showed up with her sexy neighbor in tow.
Mariah plucked a choice nacho chip dripping with cheese from the plate and popped it into her mouth. Bob had a tendency to go on and on. She stifled a yawn and finished off her sangria, doing her best to look interested.
“Señorita?” The waiter bent down low to be heard over the din in the bar.
“Yes?” Mariah watched as the waiter placed another glass of sangria in front of her. “Thank you, but I didn’t order this,” she said in confusion.
“Sí, it is compliments of the man sitting at the bar.” The harried waiter didn’t wait for a response as he moved to the next table.
Mariah turned to scan the bar and found who she was looking for. Rodrigo was perched on a tall barstool. His long legs were wrapped around the stool and the heels of his scuffed boots were hooked on the footrest. He’d abandoned his T-shirt in favor of a well-worn, white cotton shirt with short sleeves. He wore it open at the throat and unbuttoned several buttons to reveal his tanned chest and crisp, dark chest hair. His black jeans fit him like a second skin. To her abject horror, a Yankees baseball cap covered his unruly hair. Didn’t the man realize he was deep in Mariners’ territory and Yankee might as well be a four-letter word?
Their eyes connected, causing a small internal tremor in her body that topped the Rodrigo scale at about 7.0. She smiled at her stupid pun and then realized he interpreted her smile as an invitation. He raised his index finger to his temple in a mock salute.
With a mixture of dread and anticipation, she watched as he tossed cash on the counter to pay for his drinks. He and his beer headed for her table. Mariah snapped her head forward and focused on her friends. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d keep walking. She wasn’t prepared for this. Her ruthless friends would read more into it than there was and tease her without mercy. Not to mention the embarrassing things they’d say to him given half the chance. He’d find out she rarely dated, and she'd look desperate for male attention. She didn’t want Rodrigo to think that of her, even if it was true.
Without turning around, she felt his presence behind her. His mouth grazed the hair by her ear. She should have known the brash man wasn’t that easily discouraged.
“So,” he whispered in his deep, sexy voice, “fate seems to find ways to bring us together.”
“Something tells me that fate had nothing to do with it.” She looked over her shoulder at him. He was so close, his lips brushed her cheek. Embarrassed by his boldness, she leaned away from him. He leaned closer.
He grinned, his olive complexion contrasted by perfect white teeth. “Did you miss me?”
She ignored the remark. “Hello, Rodrigo.”
Her friends grew silent. Four pairs of eyes zeroed in on the two of them.
Rodrigo didn’t have a shy bone in his body. He smiled engagingly and introduced himself. Shaking hands with the men, he graced the women with his irresistible presence. Nancy and Linda melted on the spot, adding two more to his growing list of admirers, or so it seemed.
“Are you a friend of Mariah’s?” Nancy asked with a quick glance in Mariah’s direction. Mariah frowned. If her friend didn’t quit slobbering soon, there’d be a puddle on the table.
“We’re neighbors. I’m staying at Max Delgado’s place for a month. Mariah and I are acquainted.”
Four pairs of eyebrows crept up to their hairlines.
“Really? Join us,” Carl suggested, ever the helpful, friendly guy, damn him. Mariah shot daggers at both men.
Rodrigo didn’t wait for a second invitation. He stole a chair from an adjacent table. Her traitorous friends shifted to make room for him next to her. She realized with a sinking heart that she couldn’t depend on them to rescue her. Instead, they threw her to the wolf. That scruffy, Latin wolf happily slid his chair next to hers until their thighs touched. As if that wasn’t enough, he took her hand and kissed each finger with care then turned it over to kiss her palm. Nancy gasped and dropped her fork. Linda missed her mouth, and wine dribbled down her chin, unnoticed.
“Bella, it’s been too long. About four hours?” He looked at each of her friends to gauge their reactions, appearing to be insufferably pleased with himself.
She was going to kill him. Crawling under the table also seemed a viable, less messy, option. Her face burned with a heat caused by more than embarrassment. No matter how infuriating this man could be, her rebellious body had the hots for him.
Using his charisma and innate charm, Rodrigo had her friends eating out of his hand in five minutes. He engaged them in conversation about the islands and their lives yet gave very little of himself away. He deftly dodged probing questions about his personal and professional life with an ease born of experience. His polished demeanor seemed inconsistent with his unkempt appearance, which made Mariah even more wary and suspicious.
The man had the smoothness of a politician, face of a movie star, and clothes of a bum.
Who the hell was he?
* * *
Rico cringed as some snot-nosed kid, barely old enough to be in a bar, butchered one of his biggest hits. Adding insult to injury, the tone-deaf wannabe crooner attempted to imitate Rico’s signature dance moves.
Mariah laughed at Rico’s pained expression, as if evilly enjoying his aversion to karaoke, probably her form of petty revenge for his earlier teasing. She had no idea how painfully personal this really was.
“He’s pretty bad, isn’t he?”
Rico nodded, staring at the kid with irritation.
“He’s not Rico Sanchez by a long shot.”
Rico snapped his head around so fast, she jumped. He studied her closely. His dark eyes narrowed. She stared back at him, totally guileless. He breathed a sigh of relief. It had been an innocent remark. She didn’t have a clue.
“No. No, he’s not,” he agreed, still distracted by the racket that barely qualified as singing.
“Whatever happened to that guy?” Carl commented.
“He was everywhere one day then gone the next,” Nancy added.
“Drugs. What else?” Bob rolled his eyes. “Too much money, not enough sense.”
“Yeah, I heard something about that. In and out of rehab. Got to be so difficult to work with that his record company let him go.”
“Yeah, but they stayed with him until they couldn’t milk any more money out of him.”
“That’s what happens in that business. Everybody loves you when you’re on top. They don’t remember your name when you’re on the bottom.”
Rico squirmed and pretended they weren’t dissecting his life. God knows, it’d been dissected enough during the past four years. He turned in his chair and faked interest in the singer. Unfortunately, his dog had a better voice.
“Typical entertainer. They’re all flakes. Didn’t he end up in jail?” Nancy countered and flipped a nacho chip at Bob who was making faces at the kid on the mike.
“He only stayed in a few days.” Carl yawned.
“Well, he was talented.” Mariah insisted. “What a waste.”
“His brother sold him out on national TV. Remember that? His interview had the press peeing all over themselves like a litter of excited Cocker Spaniel puppies. He exposed all the dirt on his brother’s drug abuses and excesses.” Bob caught the chip and tossed it in his mouth.
Rico sighed. Oh, yeah, those same puppies had lifted their legs all over him too. Even after four years, the whole fiasco made his stomach churn, especially Ramon’s part in it.
“Well, I get tired of celebrities who think they’re entitled.” Mariah shook her head in disgust.
Rico took a deep breath, torn between keeping his mouth shut and defending himself. Shutting his mouth won—to a point.
Rico looked at Mariah. “Do you really think he felt entitled?”
“He got out of it. I have no respect for people like that. They’ll tell you anything to get what they want. You can’t trust them.”
She spoke like a woman who had suffered at the hands of a dishonest man, one like him. He’d lied to her about his identity, which was a pretty big lie. Now he was in too deep with no way out. “I think what’s in his heart is what matters.”
Mariah shrugged. “I suppose that’s true.” She focused her attention on the karaoke singer. “You have to give him credit for having the guts to sing in front of this crowd.” She winced as the kid hit an ear-splitting note.
Rico plugged his ears. The singer assaulted his hearing more than two tomcats fighting over a p— uh—female cat.
“Did you think he was hot?” He hated himself for asking the question.
Mariah’s perfectly shaped eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Him?” She looked at the pimple-faced kid.
“No, Rico Sanchez.”
“Oh, a woman would have to be dead or in a coma to not think he was hot.” She tossed him a wickedly teasing smile.
“That hot, huh?”
“Uh huh.” She nodded solemnly, though her emerald eyes twinkled.
“Do you think I’m hot?” He baited her. His eyes searched hers. Her answer mattered to him more than he cared to admit.
“Am I dead or in a coma?” She countered with a sassy smile.
“Ay yi yi.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, conceding that round.
Her boldness surprised him. Maybe the two sangrias or the chaotic atmosphere gave her courage. Regardless, he needed to rethink his strategy. This woman might prove to be more of a challenge than he’d anticipated.
* * *
The expression on his face was priceless.
Mariah applauded herself. She'd gotten one up on this overly brash man, which she suspected didn’t happen often.
By midnight, her ears hurt and her head throbbed. She’d rather listen to a pack of inebriated coyotes than these American Idol rejects. And Rodrigo—Rodrigo was getting too cozy and confident. With a possessive arm wrapped around her—as if he had the right—and a smug smile, he treated her like his private property. The man had staked his claim, and his menacing expression challenged any man who looked her way. His arrogance irritated her. She was no man’s personal property, least of all his.
The time had come to execute a graceful escape. Mariah gathered her purse, extracted herself from Rodrigo, and rose from the table. Rodrigo stood, too, and waited patiently as she told her friends goodbye. Their knowing expressions aggravated her. The man was NOT, repeat NOT, going home with her, regardless of their suspicions.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Rye.” Linda’s voice followed her out the door. “But don’t worry, I won’t call too early and disturb your sleep.”
Mariah didn’t need to look back to know they were laughing at her. Rodrigo followed her outside, slipping an arm around her waist as they walked along the street. She tried to pull away, but he held on tighter with a firm, but gentle, grip.
Uncomfortable, pissed, and a little turned on, she marched along faster. She refused to acknowledge the man fastened to her hip. His unabashed pursuit flattered her, while his arrogant confidence irritated her.
“This is my truck,” she pointed out, expecting him to let go of her. Instead he turned her to face him and placed both hands on her waist.
A woman knows certain things, and she knew she was in deep St. Bernard shit.
He’d stared at her lips several times during the night. Shivers ran down her spine as she tried to imagine what he imagined. This stubborn, insistent man had worn her down little by little as warnings from her rational side went unheeded. She needed to get some distance and gather her wits about her.
His probing eyes scanned hers for something. Permission? Approval? Rejection? Her stomach executed several impressive somersaults.
Mere inches separated them. His lips curved in satisfaction as she unconsciously leaned toward him. His fingers rubbed small circles around her hip bones. His touch scorched her skin, heating her very core. Mariah made a feeble attempt to squirm away. Instead, she proved to herself how powerless she was to stop him. Not that she really wanted to stop him.
“Mariah,” he murmured, his accent husky and thick with a need that frightened and exhilarated her. He even rolled the ‘r’ in her name. If that didn’t do a girl in, nothing would.
Shouldn’t it be forbidden for a man to have that many weapons of seduction in his sexual arsenal? It was bad enough the guy was gorgeous and charming but an accent, too? Rodrigo should be required to spread the wealth around to men less fortunate—a category which pretty much included every other man on earth.
He pulled her gently against him, as her resistance dissolved into the night air. His strong, muscular arms slid around her waist with a gentle touch in direct contrast to the intensity in his gaze. Despite her height, he was taller. Having to look up was a luxury she seldom experienced with men.
The proof of his need pressed lightly against her stomach. She shifted her gaze from his disturbing eyes and studied his stubbled and chiseled chin.
Rodrigo tucked her hair behind one ear and stroked her cheek with his index finger. Drawn back to those eyes, her lips parted slightly of their own volition. His dark eyes glittered with amusement or lust. She wasn’t sure which. His mouth moved closer. Her eyes fluttered shut as she anticipated the first touch of his lips on hers. Holding her breath, she felt his warm, moist lips graze her cheek, then linger briefly on her mouth with a feather-light touch.
Then he was gone. His warmth, his vitality, his energy all gone. His hands around her waist gone. The heat of his body gone, leaving a big gap in more places than she’d realized she’d had gaps. Mariah blinked a f
ew times. He stood a few inches from her, a smug smile spread across his face. She sucked in a deep breath. The self-satisfied jerk had played her like a cheap violin, teasing her with the promise of beautiful music then dropping her before plucking the strings a single time.
Fumbling in her purse, she dug for her keys. He took them from her unsteady hand, unlocked the car door, and opened it. Shaken to her toes by their near kiss, Mariah slid behind the wheel. He stood in the open doorway, preventing her from closing the truck door.
“Tomorrow night? What time can I pick you up for dinner?”
“I—I—”
“I promise I’ll finish what I started.” One corner of his mouth quirked, revealing more of the Latin devil lurking inside. “What time?”
“Eight.” Like a fly caught in his spider web, she surrendered to her fate. Satisfied, he stepped back and shut the truck door.
Mariah started the engine then experienced a sudden inspiration. She rolled down the window and leaned out. Crooking her index finger, she beckoned him closer. Intrigued, he bent down. She touched his lower lip with a glossy scarlet fingernail. “Rodrigo,” she purred, “two more things.”
“Sure, anything.” His eyes were bright with anticipation.
“I’ll meet you in the bar at Rosario.” When he started to argue, she interrupted. “Take it or leave it.”
Irritation like a summer storm flashed across his face, but he nodded.
“And this,” she said with distaste, “has to go.” In one smooth motion, she snatched the Yankees cap from his head, threw it in the passenger seat, rolled up the window, and sped off. Rodrigo’s stunned expression was reflected in her rearview mirror. Laughter bubbled inside her.
The last laugh was hers.
This time.
* * *
The next morning, Mariah slipped into a plastic lawn chair on Eva's deck. Her friend sipped tea, read her ever-present tarot cards, and ignored her guest. Sighing, Mariah waited. You couldn’t hurry Eva. She did everything in her own time and her own way.
Save the Last Dance Page 4