Hunter stood to watch Soledad engage her customers. She clasped her arms tightly over her chest. This trademark gesture the world interpreted as distant and closed off had earned her the untouchable reputation. Honestly, she didn’t give a damn about reputations or anyone’s opinions of her. This was a personal hug, an action she’d adopted eons ago when, alone and hurt, she’d needed reassurance and no one offered it. Right now, she could use a major bear hug.
At the door, Soledad and Brenda embraced and kissed with a familiarity that bordered on affection. Towering behind the two women, Joe’s imposing regard fell on Hunter. Impassivity personified, he didn’t flinch or show any surprise. In fact, he behaved as if he’d expected to find her here. While she’d needed a few seconds to anchor her emotions before Joe and his mother walked in, he seemed in absolute control. His aplomb infuriated her.
Silently, he remained locked on to her, and the sensation of being alone in the room with Joe began to draw her in…
No. No. No.
Regaining her composure, Hunter pulled her stomach muscles in and straightened her spine. In a show of pride and determination, she lifted her chin. She was no adolescent, drooling at the sight of her teen idol. She’d endured some of life’s cruelest tests and had toughened in their wake. Keeping handsome, enigmatic, and compelling Joe Reid at a safe distance should be an easy chore for her—chore being the operative word in this situation.
The corners of his mouth curved up slightly, a shadow of a smile softened his stern demeanor, and he tilted his head just a tad. A twinkle of humor glinted in his eye, and Hunter’s jaw slackened. That son of a bitch had read her: her thoughts, her mood, her reactions, even her strategy.
In the battle of wills, Joe outscored her one to zero. Damn him.
This man was no Aaron, mild-mannered Jack, two-timing Steve, or any of the simpering fools she’d used to satisfy her toxic purpose.
“Brenda, this is Hunter. One of my best friends.” Soledad’s happy chirp interrupted the silent exchange between them. Hunter turned her attention to the woman Soledad held by the arm.
“Nice to meet you, Hunter,” Brenda said in a smoky, pleasant voice. Her silver hair, cut in a wispy style framing her oval face, flicked gently as she moved. The lines of her knit black slacks and silky cobalt-blue long-sleeved tunic were simple. However, the depth of color and quality of the garments, her stylish tortoiseshell glasses, the polished gold bangle on her right wrist, and the small hoops on her earlobes spoke of understated elegance. “And this is my son, Joe.” She signaled over her shoulder. “He’s just come back to us.”
“Hey, Mom. Soledad knows, and I’m sure Hunter isn’t interested in all the boring minutiae.” Joe grinned down at Brenda. “Besides, Hunter and I have already met.”
“You have? When?”
“Last night,” Hunter answered before he could. She had a voice, and it worked just fine. “At Pete’s bar, before an altercation broke out.”
Joe arched his eyebrow and stepped closer to her.
“I’m so glad you remember.”
His tone was smooth, and on the surface, he seemed truly…pleased? She studied his features, searching for a trace of the hidden lie, the dishonesty that lived in all men. She found nothing devious. Either he had an excellent poker face, or he meant what he said. Her intuition went for the first option.
Hunter sighed and shrugged in full dismissal. “Well, Aaron drunk could be a handful. And you helped Pete when no one else pitched in. That was nice.” There, that would cool his jets.
“Nice? That’s it? Did you hear that, Mom?” Joe grimaced, pressing a hand on his chest. “You’re breaking my heart. And I thought my good looks had made a lasting impression.”
Oh, but he had…made an unforgettable impression. So strong, in fact, he’d scared the wits out of her.
“For heaven’s sake, Joe. Give Hunter a break. She’s not familiar with your sense of humor.” Brenda chuckled in fake irritation. “I’m sorry, my son can be a pain in the you know where.”
“Mom.” Joe’s eyebrows shot up. The band of his eye patch wiggled up and down over his forehead. “What’s Hunter gonna think about me?”
“That you love to bust chops.” Soledad joined in. “He’s got the gruff look down pat. Don’t let that fool you. He’s a teddy bear inside.”
Shaking his head, Joe threw his palms in the air. “Two, soon to be three, against one, isn’t fair.”
Joe headed toward the front of the shop, where display shelves loaded with boxes, tins, and sacks had been set up. His body language was pretty clear: he’d lost interest in her.
“Hey, Sole, the java section looks interesting. Lots of unfamiliar brands.” Joe ran a finger over the assortment of packages. “Did you get any new exotic coffees?”
“Your timing is perfect. A shipment of Kenya AA Nyeri Ichamara came in. It’s not the espresso roast I prefer. I think your American taste buds will definitely enjoy it,” Soledad explained, holding a dark-brown-and-tan pack up to Joe. Standing behind them both, Brenda listened without interrupting.
From her spot, Hunter observed them all.
“What about acidity?” Joe asked.
“Less than other African varieties. Has a good rating for its fruit notes. You’ll need a coffee grinder.”
“I have one.” Joe rubbed his whiskered jaw. “How much have you sold?”
Soledad tilted her hand side to side. “About half is gone.”
“All right. I’ll take two packs. And if I don’t—”
“Like it? Bring it back.”
“You rock, Sole.” The wide grin returned. He picked up another pack from the shelf and tucked both under his arm.
Brenda pointed to one of the baker’s racks, and the trio walked over. Their voices turned to a low murmur and soft chuckles as they viewed several items.
They’d forgotten about Hunter, so she stood behind the glass case to study her friend. Soledad was in her element, answering questions and taking orders from her best customers. In the near future, Hunter would be doing the same thing. For now, she watched and learned.
Several minutes passed before the trio was on the move again. Brenda stopped dead before one of the racks. Out of all the items grouped on the top shelf, she’d homed in on a blue-and-white chinoiserie ginger jar. She fussed over its beauty as she held it up with admiration, turning it this way and that. The afternoon sunlight filtering through the window shades played with the shimmering surface.
Hunter agreed with her choice. It was indeed lovely, which supported Soledad’s assessment: Brenda Reid had a discerning eye. In an ocean of run-of-the-mill pottery, she’d located the half-buried rare gem. Had Joe inherited her talent?
“Let me wrap it for you.” Soledad walked toward the display case and Hunter.
“It’s not necessary,” Brenda protested. “I can take it home like this.”
“No, ma’am. If it breaks, you’ll blame me. Right, Joe?”
He nodded. “You know it.”
“Hey, doll. Would you look in the second compartment?” Soledad pointed as she spoke to Hunter. “It’s down to your left. There should be a stack of tissue paper and paper bags with the store’s logo and name.”
Following her directions, Hunter bent to search. She touched the tissue paper before she actually saw it.
“Yep. Got it.” She dropped a small stack of bags and paper on the glass surface.
With nimble fingers, Soledad selected several sheets at once, covered the entire jar, taped it securely, then placed it inside the bag Hunter held open for her.
“There. Protected and cushioned.” Soledad presented Brenda the bag.
Clasping it with both hands, Brenda held the bundle to her chest. Her dark eyes beamed with the excitement of a ten-year-old holding a new toy.
Hunter picked up another bag out of the pile and offered it to Joe. “Would you like one for your coffee?” A logical suggestion, she thought.
Joe’s sensuous mouth twitched. “I’m good.
” He patted the coffee packs under his arm as his blue gaze took her in. He leaned close to her. “Tell you what I’d really like.” His voice dropped. His expression intensified. “To see you again. Soon.”
The heat infusing Hunter’s face advanced, invading all her body parts. The hardened shell protecting her muscles, her blood, tendons, and ligaments cracked, threatening to expose her vulnerable heart and soul. Of their own accord, her inner thighs trembled, and her sex pulsed. A delicious quiver she’d not felt in years.
“I…ah.” Tongue-tied, she gaped, feeling utterly helpless.
He grasped her fingers, and instead of jerking her hand away as she should, the desire for a prolonged contact paralyzed her.
Gazing into her eyes, he lifted her fingertips to his mouth. In a slow, intimate caress, he brushed his open lips over each of her knuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you,” he whispered, then released her hand.
You conceited ass. I’m not worried. She wanted to scream, snub his comment with the harshest, most demeaning insults she could summon. Nothing came. Her brain had emptied.
Joe didn’t linger to see her reaction. He threw an arm over his mother’s shoulder. “Come on, Mom. Let’s go home.”
“Thank you, Soledad. Nice meeting you, Hunter.” Brenda waved under Joe’s arm.
Smiling weakly, Hunter held up a hand.
As the pair walked out, Soledad locked the door and flipped the Open sign to Closed. Hands on hips, she frowned at Hunter. “All right. Come clean.”
“What?”
“No, chica. The innocent look doesn’t work with me.” With a swish of skirts, Soledad walked to her chair, tossed her thick braid out of the way, and flopped down. She grasped her half-full Cava flute and flicked her finger at Hunter.
“Something is going on between you two. And don’t bother with the runaround. I caught on and so did Brenda.” She took a sip and made a face. “Ugh. It’s warm.”
In her usual busy-bee style, she stood, grabbed the bottle and both glasses, then sped past Hunter and almost dove into her back room.
“Good thing I have more.” She reappeared moments later holding a fresh set of everything. “Come on, missy. Spill the beans.”
Hunter sighed “There’s not much to explain, sweets. And it’s all mixed up.” She sat back, suddenly exhausted. Folding her hands over her lap, Hunter revisited in her mind the initial moment when she saw Joe Reid.
“Kelly spotted him first. He came to Pete’s with Dan Barton. I tell you, I don’t get that relationship.” Shaking her head, she scrunched her lips. “They seem so different. Anyway, it’s crazy. Joe’s a stranger, and somehow…”
“You both clicked,” Soledad said, offering Hunter a glass of bubbly.
She took the flute, but didn’t drink. She rubbed the back of her neck instead. “You know me, Sole. I use men to appease my insanity. It’s all I want from them. They’re my punishment and my escape.”
“Have you ever considered dating a lady? You might find happiness with a woman.”
“I adore you.” Hunter threw her an air kiss. “Same as Kelly. But girls aren’t my thing, doll. Haven’t you noticed? Other than you two, I don’t have women friends. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. What works for me doesn’t have to work for you. I’m only throwing out other options.” Soledad gave a half shrug. “Anyway, back to Joe.”
“Yes.” Hunter inhaled as she glanced around the room, putting her jumbled ideas in some order. “He is… In spite of… Oh, hell. Where do I start?”
“Anywhere. Pick a spot.”
“Granted he’s handsome. Women must fawn over him.” Absently, Hunter turned her attention to her glass and the thin line of bubbles in the liquid rising to the surface.
“In another man, the eye patch would detract from his looks. With Joe, it enhances his allure. It’s more than physical, though. It’s something in him. Maybe I’m reading too much into this…”
“You’re not.” Soledad shook her head.
“So you do know.”
Soledad nodded.
“Thank goodness.” Hunter exhaled. “I thought I was losing my mind. See, he calls to me, and more bewildering is the sensation of healing I get from him.”
“Healing?”
“Yes, weird, huh?” Suddenly, anxiety set in. Hunter’s heart raced and her hands trembled. Afraid to drop her glass, she returned it to the table. “That first night, we hadn’t exchanged two words when our eyes met and… I had this feeling, a sense of certainty that he could end my pain. Heal my soul. Smooth the old scars. It scared the devil out of me.”
“Oye, chica. He can’t heal you. He’s not a professional. You’re giving him abilities he doesn’t have.”
“I don’t mean to do it.” Hunter pressed her steepled fingers over her mouth. “I told you it was a crazy sensation. If I let him get close, my world will turn upside down. At the same time, the idea of intimacy with Joe excites me. The things I see us doing…”
Heat suffused her skin. She paused as she clasped her throat. “Do you realize how shocking that is? After the ordeal in Kissimmee, I was sure that part of me was dead.”
“And the pervert? Is he still there? Did you ever report him?” Soledad clicked her fingernails against the flute.
“Are you kidding? After the scene and his wife yelling, calling me names as if I wanted that piece of crap. No, girlfriend, I wanted out.” Hunter scoffed. “I haven’t shattered Mamá Giordano’s illusions either. She doesn’t know her angelic cousin is an abusive degenerate.”
“Pity. Time behind bars, would give him a taste of his own medicine.” Soledad stood up. Glass in hand, she paced to the display case, circled to the chair, then repeated the path. “Speaking of Kissimmee, what happened to your shadow? Remember him?” The shy, adoring boy and his crazy mother?”
“Oh, yeah. Bobby, right? I think that was his name? The earth swallowed him.” Hunter shrugged, holding her palms up. “One day, he went from being a nightly presence at the bar, to gone forever. Mercifully, he took his mother with him.”
“Good riddance. She was one for the nuthouse.” Soledad paused her pacing. “I wish I had better info to offer about Joe. Since I’ve opened the shop, I’ve seen and spoken with him the few times he came home on leave. Three or four visits, tops.”
Hunter shifted in her seat. “So, he’s been overseas for a while.”
“Off the top of my head…” Soledad scrunched her face, making silent calculations. “I’d say six years in total.”
“I see.”
“Brenda is a kind, decent person,” Soledad continued. “She’s helped me from the start. I can only hope she’s passed some of her goodness to her son. However, life is full of surprises.”
Pulling her braid over her shoulder, she twirled the end. “I’ve noticed that distinctive air of power in Joe. It’s not bossiness, ’cause that’s irritating, and he’s a very charming man. In some circles, he’d be dominant material.” Soledad waved a hand. “Whatever. Different conversation. Maybe…”
“What? Don’t hold back.”
“I was thinking that he picked up this sense of authority in the Marines. It’s also possible the service developed what was already there.” Soledad narrowed her eyes. “You’re my only concern. Can you handle it when he comes around looking for you? And he will, count on it. His interest is obvious. You must be mentally prepared for anything, chica. He may approach you at the bar, perhaps here. Does he know where you live?”
“No,” Hunter whispered. Closing her eyes, she relived his lips touching her knuckles, the scalding heat from his mouth upon her skin. She expanded the fantasy. She was in his arms, his warm hands undressing her, carefully exploring her as he went, arousing her, burning her… Heady temptation seduced her. Could she deny herself, push this need away? Why not indulge, give in? Just once.
She smiled shyly. “Can I give it a try, taste a little?”
“Vale, niña. Why not?” Soledad returned to her chair. She pres
sed her mouth into a thin line.
“I promise, Sole. If it gets too hot or too demanding, I’ll stop.”
The steady hum of Joe’s F-150’s powerful engine couldn’t drown out the crinkle and rustle of paper coming from his mother’s side—an uncomfortable sound that seemed to grow louder and more irritating at every red light. Since he’d driven away from Costa del Sol, Brenda must have handled and rehandled the ginger jar in the bag at least ten times. Amid a flurry of muttered comments that didn’t require contribution on his part, she’d moved her precious item from the safety of her lap to the side of her feet, and back up, finally wedging it between her hip and the seat’s armrest. He’d love to cast a surreptitious side glance—with Brenda Reid, subtlety worked best—but without his right eye, he couldn’t, not without turning. Cursing under his breath, he shot her a quick look. Might as well admit out loud he’d noticed her constant and overly loud son-I-want-to-talk fidgeting.
“All right, Mom. I give up. What’s revolving in that busy mind of yours?”
Silence and a new round of paper rustling answered him.
“Mom?”
He peeked again and frowned. Hands clasped, she looked through the windshield.
“You’re worrying me,” he insisted.
This time, she reacted with a light touch to his arm.
“There’s nothing to worry about, really.”
Bad words. Brenda Reid’s really and there’s nothing were filled to the brim with trouble. His father had enlightened him years ago.
“Oookay.” He softened his tone. Maybe she’d respond to a little cajoling. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“Joe, I’ve never snooped or interfered in your affairs. Your social life is none of my business. If you don’t want to settle down, that’s fine. In fact, your father and I are getting used to the idea that we may never have grandchildren.”
He glanced at her. She eyed him dead-on.
“Mmm-hmm.” He bobbed his head. What else could he say?
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