by Ann Mcintosh
She’d had a totally professional and productive conversation with Mateo without letting on that inside she was a mass of conflicting emotions and longings.
The memory of the kiss they’d shared had haunted her, springing into her brain whenever she let her defenses down.
If she’d hoped for an indication of whether she was interested enough to pursue anything more with Mateo, she’d gotten more than she’d bargained for. Every night since then, she’d tossed and turned, her imagination supplying brazen, erotic images of what it would be like to see him naked. Feel his mouth and lips and hands on her. Wrap her legs around him, as he filled her to capacity.
It had taken every iota of her considerable strength of will to put it aside and be a decent guest at her cousin’s home, but somehow, she’d done it.
But she knew the true test would be how she reacted to Mateo the next time she saw him.
It had been as bad as she’d feared.
She’d sensed him coming down the corridor even before she saw him, some internal sense recognizing the approach of danger, and her entire body had reacted.
Grown hot and tight, thrumming with erotic energy.
Yet, she’d kept it together, and now, watching as Mateo examined Rexford Knowles, asked him questions and checked the test results a nurse had just brought in, she was quietly pleased with herself.
She could do it—put aside the roaring attraction that gripped her whenever she was in his presence, and get on with her job.
Her life.
So confident was she that later, after they’d discussed the patient’s ongoing care and Mateo asked her out to dinner that evening, her heart skipped only one beat, instead of fluttering like a crazy thing.
“I’m on call,” she said, as a way to get out of it. “And usually do rounds before I head home.”
“You’ll still have to eat,” he replied, his face serious. “I won’t be through with my clinic until about six, and usually don’t leave until about seven. We could grab a bite after that. I really want to talk to you about the other night.”
That was direct. So to the point that she could only reply, “I’m not sure there’s anything to discuss.”
But she was annoyed to hear the unusually husky tone in her voice, and knew he’d heard it, too, when his eyelids half closed over his gleaming gaze.
“There’s a lot to discuss, Regina.” Then he half sighed, half snorted, as though unable to decide whether to be annoyed or amused. “Humor me. It’s just a sandwich and a conversation.”
And because she didn’t want him to think she was afraid, she agreed.
By the time she was satisfied with all she wanted to do before she would leave the hospital, it was almost seven thirty, but when she went down to the doctors’ parking lot, he was there, waiting. They agreed on an all-night deli near her apartment, and he followed her in his car to the restaurant.
Ensconced in a corner booth, him with a huge Reuben sandwich and her with a cup of soup and a much smaller toasted cheese, they spent the first little while eating.
Obviously, he was as hungry as she was, and it wasn’t until he’d finished half of his meal that he wiped his mouth and said, “I wanted you to know, if you don’t already, that I’m very attracted to you.”
She put down her spoon and met his gaze across the table. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she felt the same way about him, but caution, along with her natural reticence, held her back.
“Okay,” she said instead, ignoring the fluttering in her belly and her suddenly galloping heart.
“But I also want you to know, in the interest of full disclosure, that as much as I like you and enjoy your company, I’m not interested in a relationship.”
Taken aback, all she could do was raise her eyebrows and say, “Oh?”
He nodded. “Besides the fact that you’re only here for a short time, the truth is, I’ve just started to get my life back since my parents passed away. Along with making the commitment to come back to Miami, there were other plans I had to put on hold back then, too. Now I want to try to work on them, before I’m considered too old to make it happen.”
That was something she could totally understand, although it felt weird for the shoe to be on the other foot. She was usually the one telling men she wasn’t interested in a relationship.
Now she understood why those men had acted so disappointed. Although God knew she didn’t plan on getting seriously involved, either, it felt like being rejected.
But she pushed that thought aside to ask, “What are you planning to do?”
“I want to be a part of a dedicated transplant team. There’s a new hospital being built near Plantation, and they’re rumored to be aiming at being the place to go for chronically ill patients who need transplants. I’ve applied for some training courses that I hope will put me on track to be a good candidate.”
She could see the anticipation and enthusiasm on his face, and couldn’t help grinning.
“Good for you.”
He leaned back and nodded, but he was serious once more, and she knew her attempt to sidetrack him from their initial discussion had failed.
“You know by now that I’m not going to try to push you into anything.”
“Yes.” She made her voice firm, showing with her tone that even if he were so inclined, she was having none of it.
“So, with everything I’ve said in mind, I’d like to reiterate my invitation to the Keys. No matter what you decide, we’ll have a good time.”
She took a bite of her sandwich, using the action to put off answering.
He was right. They did have a good time together. Whether or not they decided to take it further, now she knew he wouldn’t expect her to get emotionally involved. Best of all, he’d obviously thought it through and was honest about his intentions, or lack of them.
It could be just what she needed: a no-strings, steamy affair, without having to worry about the long-term consequences. They could agree to have fun without expectations, and all without her treating him as though he were a potential life partner.
Weighing and measuring his every move.
Waiting, setting little traps to see what he might do.
Maintaining the tightest grip she could on her own responses and emotions, as though expecting pain at some later, as yet undetermined, date, when their relationship would implode.
None of that was relevant to their situation, and there was no need to be so cagey, when they both knew there would be no long-term relationship to develop and nurture.
And with her track record, wasn’t that a great thing?
She could just enjoy herself, without hanging on to all the old habits and norms that had served her so poorly in the past.
Perhaps this was her last chance to experience one of those crazy affairs she’d heard and read about. Not the ones that ended in tears and recriminations, but like those her girlfriends talked about, years after they were over, and both parties had moved on. Where they’d lost their heads for a time, reveling in the hot, steamy sex, and when it was all over, could still sigh and roll their eyes, admitting how good it was, even though it wasn’t meant to last.
Regina had never understood why they’d been sucked in, or why the memories still made them fan themselves years later, but she suspected she was about to find out.
Besides, she’d never been to the Keys.
“Can we go to Key West?” she asked, having swallowed. “I want to see Hemingway’s house.”
“Sure,” he replied easily, that sexy little smile touching the corners of his lips. “Whatever you want.”
Whatever she wanted?
That made her brain start churning out suggestions, all of which ended with her having orgasms, and she had to yank it back to the present and slam the door shut on that train of thought.
And while she told herself
she probably wouldn’t end up sleeping with him, she already knew that was a big fat lie.
“All right. I’ll go.”
The way his eyes lit up, and the slow, sexy smile he gave her told her he knew just as well as she did that their trip wouldn’t be a platonic vacation between friends.
As she finished her sandwich, and the conversation turned more general, she realized she didn’t mind being quite so transparent.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IF REGINA STILL harbored any doubts about how wealthy Mateo’s family was, they were quickly banished when she saw their house on Islamorada Key.
The modern glass-and-concrete house, set on concrete pillars, was gorgeous.
“They build up high here because of the storm surge during hurricanes,” Mateo said. “But my father made sure to use high-impact-resistant glass when he built, and I put on a metal roof when the old one needed to be replaced a few years ago.”
Regina was too busy gaping at the breathtaking view out over the water to really pay too much attention to what he was saying, though. She walked from where he’d parked beneath the house out onto the flagstone patio bordered by a little strip of grass, overlooking the sea.
There was a concrete seawall and a hoist holding a tarp-covered boat, but what Regina couldn’t stop staring at was the confluence of bright blue sky and aqua-shaded water. All the tension of the last week, when she’d worried about whether to give in to her own desires, melted away.
This wasn’t a place where stress could easily survive.
“We’re on the Gulf side of the island.” Mateo had come to stand beside her, and a little shiver trickled up her back at his presence, so close she could smell his cologne. “So the sunsets are gorgeous. We can go out on the boat one afternoon and watch it, if you like, but unfortunately at this time of year it tends to get dark pretty quickly, so it’s a little more difficult coming back in through the channel.”
“If that’s the case, I’ll pass,” she said. “I’m sure the view from here is amazing.”
The house was part of a development, but it was the last one on the dead-end street and sat on a small peninsula, giving it the perfect position for views on three sides.
“Come on upstairs.” Mateo touched her elbow, and goose bumps fired along her arm. “We can put away the groceries, and while you settle in, I’ll get the boat in the water.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said mildly.
She was determined to play it cool, at least for a little while more. There was a part of her, the suspicious part, that was waiting for him to make the move he’d sworn he wouldn’t. Waiting for him to try to force a decision on her, or use the attraction between them to coax her into his bed.
But after they’d unpacked the car, all Mateo did was lead the way upstairs and, after opening the door, usher her inside. As she stood, trying to get her bearings, he carried their bags to the start of a hallway and put them down.
“Pick whichever room you like,” he said, waving a hand down the corridor.
Without looking at him, she asked, “Which one is yours?”
“The one at the end of the hall. Make yourself at home.”
Then he was out the door again, leaving her to her own devices.
The inside of the house was as lovely as the outside. The large L-shaped room she was standing in was an open-plan kitchen, living and dining room in one, and it was decorated in soothing shades of gray and yellow, accented with crisp white. All the fittings and furnishings had the mark of luxury, but at the same time, it had a comfortable, lived-in feel. Big soft couches and chairs created artful seating arrangements, and were positioned to best take in the glorious view visible through floor-to-ceiling windows.
Kicking off her sandals, Regina carried the bags of groceries she’d brought inside over to the kitchen, and started putting them away. When asked what she should bring, Mateo had said he’d take care of everything, and as she opened the fridge, Regina couldn’t help smiling, just a little. Clearly, his idea and her idea of what constituted sufficient provisions for the time they’d be there were very different.
Mind you, he had said he usually ate out when he was in the Keys, so maybe bread, antipasto, cold cuts and enough cheese to make fondue for the entire Swiss population would be enough.
Having finished her chore, she strolled over to the windows, and her gaze immediately went to where Mateo was in the process of turning the winch to get the boat into the water.
The sunlight glinted on his hair, and his broad shoulders bunched and flexed beneath his knit shirt. Watching him without his knowledge was a rare treat, and one she definitely had a taste for.
She already knew where she’d be sleeping, and was honest enough with herself to know she’d made that decision a long time ago. What also had to be acknowledged was the fact that she’d wanted him to push for intimacy, and was strangely disquieted by his refusal to do so.
He’d made his desire for her clear, and had been honest about not being interested in a relationship. Nothing about his behavior should cause her this sense of being on the edge of a precipice and being scared she would plummet with just the slightest push.
Mateo got the boat into the water and began to remove the weatherproof cover, and she saw his lips purse, as though he were whistling. Heat bloomed, low in her belly, and excitement spread through her body, as though pushed along her veins with her blood.
Yes, she was going to sleep with him, and suddenly she realized why she’d wanted him to take the decision from her, the way most men she’d been with had done, or at least tried to.
Then, while she would still have sex with him, her liking and respect for him would be diminished, leaving her free to walk away unscathed when she returned to San Francisco.
Instead, she was forced to admit he was a man of integrity and honor, with a devotion to his family that made her heart ache, and made her like him all the more. And when he’d talked about his ambitions, another piece had clicked into place. How could she not admire both his dedication to his family and his renewed decision to pursue the dreams he’d put on hold all those years ago? Most other people would be resting on their laurels, satisfied with where they were.
She could still remain unscathed, though, as long as she reminded herself that they were both in it for the fun. It was all a matter of determination, and Regina was a master at that, wasn’t she?
It would mean keeping a firm grip on her signature detachment, and making sure she didn’t let him mess with her head.
No problem at all.
Thus fortified, she went and grabbed her bag, taking it straight along to Mateo’s room.
* * *
Finished with launching and cleaning up the boat, Mateo stood for a moment, just taking in the view and the peaceful scene. The water was shades of brown where the reefs lay just below the surface, to aquamarine in the shallows, to deep aqua farther out into the Gulf of Mexico. There was little chop, the waves running slow and low toward the land, and the tiny islands dotting the water were verdant green.
While he enjoyed city life, these moments spoke to his soul and eased some of the tension tightening his muscles.
Not all of it, though, because he still wasn’t sure where things stood with the gorgeous, tight-lipped, sexy woman upstairs, and the uncertainty was gnawing at his insides.
Her caution didn’t bother him; he actually understood it all too well.
There was something brewing between them that threatened to be explosive, and it deserved to be carefully considered before any decisions could be made.
But he’d had to draw on every ounce of patience he possessed not to ask Regina what she was thinking, what she had planned.
He wanted her, and the waiting, the anticipation, intensified not just the need, but his desire to break apart her carefully constructed control. To shatter her detachment and bring her in
to the eye of the erotic storm building inside. He wanted not just her acquiescence, but her complete complicity. He wanted to ravish her senses, give her the utmost in pleasure, leave her weak but still wanting more.
Where that almost savage impulse came from, he didn’t know, but he suspected it had everything to do with this waiting game they were playing.
They’d talked easily on the trip down, the conversation flowing from her visit with her relatives to their separate work ambitions, and then to other, more mundane topics. And while he was engaged, he was also terribly distracted, his senses drawn to cataloging her ever move and breath, her scent filling his head.
The memory of her lips on his, the dance of their tongues, was a constant companion, leading his brain to far more intense and arousing imaginings.
He needed to know which way this situation was going to go, so that if he needed to completely put a lid on his desires, it could happen now.
But standing around outside wasn’t going to get him any closer to a resolution, so, with one last comprehensive look at the sky to make sure there were no clouds on the horizon, he turned to go back inside.
Upstairs, he found Regina in the kitchen, putting together lunch.
“Wow,” he said, taking in the spread she’d laid out. “You’ve been busy.”
She’d rolled sliced meats and cheeses together, made rosettes out of radishes, and had them all arranged on a platter with celery and carrot sticks, olives and fresh mozzarella balls.
“I’m just toasting some slices of bread,” she replied. “And then we can eat.”
He went to the sink to wash his hands. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” he said, thinking about the days when he’d slapped a slice of ham between two slices of bread and called it lunch.
She just smiled. “It was no trouble. Besides, my grandfather always said, ‘If yuh mek it look nice-nice, people will nyam it up.’ He was a short-order cook with the soul of a chef.”
“Okay, I give,” he said, amazed at hearing her speak with a perfect Jamaican accent for the first time, but not wanting to mention how intriguing it was. “I got the rest of it, but what does ‘nyam’ mean?”