Carlos’ jaw clenched as he settled back onto the seat. He picked up a toothpick, twirling it between his forefinger and thumb. “You assume we please each other. Jealous?”
How dare he? She sat back. “I am not.”
“Wishful thinking?”
His question shocked her. “If you want to go through life with a woman bearing fake body parts, it’s your choice.”
“Exactly.” He leaned forward. “So, what’s your problem?”
“I don’t have one.” She glared at him. “Your life is your business, and mine is mine. The sooner we find out what Hector’s up to, the sooner you can return to Bambi and her double Ds.”
Chapter Seven
In the studio, Carlos rotated his shoulders in an attempt to relax. Trella had given him a twenty-minute break. He lay on an antique pewter daybed, resting against plush down pillows encased in crisp white pillowcases.
Bambi’s untimely appearance had cost him dearly on the drive back from Vegas two days ago. He’d endured the silence broken only by the constant drone of talk radio. As soon as they’d arrived at her home, she’d vanished upstairs.
Kissing Trella was an action he wanted to repeat, but how willing would she be if she persisted in believing Bambi was a fixture in his life? After Trella had dashed into the restroom, he’d told Bambi their friendship was over. She’d nodded then proceeded to talk about the new man in her life. Carlos had wished her luck. Bambi understood the score; that’s why he’d spent time with her. Sex was simply sex. No feelings, no promises. Easy and uncomplicated.
Hearing footsteps, he glanced at the doorway. Wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of khakis that had seen their best day five years ago, Trella wound her ponytail around a brown leather band and tucked the ends to secure it.
She picked up a palette of paint. “Ready to resume?”
He stood and stretched. Feet bare, he padded out to the patio. Weaving between two stone tables, he repositioned himself in front of the iron rail. He looked down on the valley, allowing her to view his profile. Her stool creaked as she settled onto it.
Their kiss haunted his dreams. The woman upset the normal flow of his life, and he hated it. She was the last person he thought about when his eyes closed and the first one who popped into his mind upon waking. He remembered how soft she felt against him. His pants tightened behind the zipper. He tensed, fighting the arousal.
“Relax.” Frustration laced her voice. “Force your shoulders down. Think about Bambi.”
Carlos struggled to follow her request. He emptied his mind, but an image of Trella wearing the brown caftan taunted him. Focus. Think of something else. He blew out his breath in a loud rush. His active mind decided to taunt him with what Trella would look like wearing nothing but a thong with her breasts bare to his touch.
“Thoughts of her not working? Pity. They worked when you kissed me.”
“I wasn’t thinking of her, and she isn’t my girlfriend.” His lips thinned. Hell, he sounded like a teenager instead of a grown man.
“One of many, I’m sure.”
She muttered the words, but he still caught them.
“Did you move?” she asked.
“No.” He sighed. A minute ticked by and he added, “I’m trying here.”
“Try harder,” she snapped.
Damn it. He wasn’t apologizing for how he lived his life, nor was he allowing her to hide what she really wanted. She wouldn’t be this prickly if she didn’t feel some kind of way about him. “You’re upset because I kissed you and you liked it. I enjoyed it, too, and it ended too soon.” Something clattered to the floor, but he didn’t turn around to discern the cause. “No comment?”
Carlos wasn’t surprised when Trella didn’t answer him right away. The brushstrokes against the canvas echoed in the silence. Now probably wasn’t the right time to push her to have this conversation, but he was tired of this wall she’d erected between them.
She finally sighed. “I can’t allow my focus to be split between the canvas and a pointless conversation that does neither of us any good.”
His frustration melted as he conceded she needed to focus on her work. “What do you need me to do?” He kept his voice low and soothing.
The insistent, shrill ring of the telephone interrupted the quietness. She crossed the room, picking up the receiver before the answering machine caught the call.
“Hello?” After several seconds, she grimaced. “Another hang-up.”
He broke the pose, turning to face her. “I activated a phone trace.”
Rubbing the back of her neck, she returned the phone to its cradle. “Let’s take a break.”
“You sure?”
She nodded. “Yeah. You need to take care of that.” She looked pointedly below his belt.
His erection thickened further at her acknowledgement.
“I wasn’t thinking about Bambi.”
She turned her back to him. “I don’t care. I have what I need.”
His anger rose at the easy way she dismissed him. She pushed him away because she was afraid of what stirred between them. Pretending an attraction didn’t exist wouldn’t make it disappear.
Carlos reined in his need for her to acknowledge what lay between them. He’d allow her to run for now. She had enough to handle with the upcoming art show, and they both needed to focus on discovering if Louis’ death was related to the IWP. He strolled across the room. At the doorway, he paused. “I’ll check in with the guys to see if they made headway with the phone trace.”
After he left, Trella stared at the canvas, feeling more alone than ever. Carlos wasn’t a one-woman man. She’d witnessed walking, breathing evidence of the fact. Still, it wasn’t fair to take her annoyance at her own lack of restraint out on him. He was a grown man and could be with whomever he pleased, live his life the way he wanted. Who was she to judge?
Her common sense disappeared whenever he was near. She’d allowed the kiss, and he was right—she hadn’t wanted it to end. She had wanted more, to feel his hands molding her body to his, the heaviness of his arousal against her. Just his touch and a single kiss had her primed and ready for sex.
Did she want only sex from Carlos? Was it simply that she missed her husband? Good Lord, was she using Carlos as a substitute? Why do I keep dishonoring Louis by giving in to my attraction to his best friend? Tears welled in her eyes, causing her vision to waver. She stalked into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face and patted her skin dry with a hand towel. She’d deal with Carlos later, but she had more pressing problems.
If her show was to be a success, she needed to spend more time painting and less time wondering about Carlos. Returning to the canvas, she centered herself, allowing the anger to seep away as she focused on finishing the painting.
Hours later, when a shadow hit the floor of the studio, she glanced up to see Carlos standing in the doorway.
“Can I see it?”
She set the palette on the adjacent table. “No.”
“Why not?”
She pointed a brush at him. “I’m the mistress of this house, so you do as I say.”
His gaze darkened, and she cursed at her choice of words.
“When do you do what I say?” His question broke the quietness of the room with the force of an erupting volcano.
Her heart raced at the thought of being at his mercy. She was losing her damn mind around this man. “What makes you think that’ll ever happen?”
He advanced into the room. Struck again by the veiled strength he exuded, she met him halfway to keep him from seeing the unfinished work.
He lifted a hand, and she stiffened, thinking he was going to touch her face. Instead, he caressed her hair, allowing the strands to float over his fingers. I’m jealous of my hair. Yep, I’m certifiable.
“What if doing what I say brings you immense pleasure?” Carlos whispered the question.
Her body trembled in anticipation. “I suppose it depends on the type of pleasure.”
Nostrils flaring, he snaked an arm around her waist. She stiffened at the look of hunger in his eyes.
His overwhelming presence filled the room and made her feel as if her sanctuary had become his. She swallowed, praying he wouldn’t continue yet wishing he would.
“What do you want?” she whispered. Half of her hoped against hope he wouldn’t give her a three-letter answer—the other half had already warmed to the idea.
“I know what today is.” His voice stroked her body like a soft silk teddy.
She blew her breath out in a rush, unwilling to investigate why disappointment filled her instead of relief. “You do?”
“Be ready in an hour. I hate waiting on a woman to dress.” He turned on his heel.
It took a moment for his words to sink into her brain. She raced after him. “Don’t order me around in my own house.”
He looked at his watch. “You’re working on fifty-nine minutes now. It’s up to you if you want to waste the time arguing with me.”
She leaned over the balcony as he continued down the stairs. “Carlos!”
“I’ll leave you if you’re not ready.”
She didn’t doubt he probably would. “Louis would never treat me this way,” she retorted.
Carlos stopped on the last step and looked up at her. Despite her earlier pep talk about resisting him, a thrill of delight coursed through her at the naked need reflected in his eyes.
“There are a lot of things I’d do to you that he didn’t.”
At the barely concealed promise in his eyes, Trella turned away. She forced herself not to run to the safety of her bedroom. She closed the door. Carlos was probably a demanding lover in bed. Would require a woman to give her all to him. Well, he better forget about me then. She was too much her own woman. Bambi—or any other female, for that matter—was welcome to him.
She showered and dressed in record time. With two minutes to spare, she descended the stairs with her black clutch.
Carlos rose from the sofa dressed in a cream linen shirt and slacks, appreciation in his glance as he surveyed her ruby-red dress with its black-banded waist.
“Beautiful.”
She flushed at his praise. “Thanks. You look nice, yourself.” She led the way to the garage, conscious of his admiring gaze. It’s just dinner. Ignore how he makes you feel.
Despite the awkwardness she expected during their transit, he kept her laughing by insisting on singing along to the radio.
Twenty minutes later, Carlos pulled into the parking lot of Padre’s. She grinned in pleasure. “Louis and I used to come here a lot.”
He winked. “Makes it the perfect place.”
She waited as Carlos handed the keys to the valet. They entered the spacious building, and a hostess greeted them.
“Mr. Diaz, your table is ready in the private dining room.”
Trella followed the hostess and Carlos as they weaved through the crowded restaurant.
“You didn’t have to reserve such a large space for two people, Carlos.”
He gently pulled her inside the room. “You never know who might stop by.”
“Happy birthday!” Selina and Melissa shouted.
Trella stared at the long rectangular table occupied by her two friends. Near the back of the room, a round, cloth-covered table held gifts.
Tears sprang to her eyes. There was so much she wanted to say, but words clogged in her throat. She settled for allowing her thumb to caress the back of his hand.
“You look great.” Selina, dressed in a black knee-length dress, hugged Trella then passed her off to Melissa. Soon, a gaggle of women surrounded Trella, each talking a mile a minute.
Selina's gaze traveled between Trella and Carlos. “So, how is it having such a fine man at your constant beck and call?”
They settled onto chairs as waiters arrived for their drink orders, thankfully keeping Trella from having to answer the question. But she knew Selina wouldn’t let the subject die until Trella satisfied her friend’s curiosity.
Selina, seated to Trella’s left, leaned closer, and she braced herself.
“So…what's up with you and Carlos?” her friend whispered.
Trella shrugged. “Nothing.” Even as she denied any type of contact with him, she couldn’t stop peeking at him as he chatted with another man. She rarely kept anything from her close friends but wasn’t ready to share news of her kiss. She wanted to savor the moment with Carlos as her special secret—especially since she never planned on letting it happen again.
Melissa smoothed her hands down her taupe dress with its corseted waist. “Everyone says the same thing…right before they admit they’re dating,” she chimed in from her seat to Trella’s right. “If I were you, I’d jump on him.”
“I don’t think I’m ready to date again.”
Melissa nodded. “I understand, sweetie, but life has its own agenda.”
“I’m starving.” Trella hoped she’d change the direction of the conversation.
Melissa signaled the waiter standing discreetly in the corner of the room. “The food’s already ordered.”
Carlos appeared at Trella’s side. “There’s a group of people who are joining us. I’ll see what’s keeping them.”
“Whoever it is, I hope they’re single.” Selina removed a small mirror from her purse for a quick beauty check.
“I do, too.” Melissa took a sip of her drink.
Trella remained quiet, watching the door Carlos disappeared behind.
Minutes later, he re-entered the room. “Hope we have food for a few more friends.”
Holding onto Carlos’ hands were a young boy and girl.
Alfonso stood behind them. The three men who’d made up the remaining members of Louis’ squad brought up the rear.
“Thanks for the invite.” Donovan, still wiry thin, spoke first. He brushed dirty-blond hair off his face.
“Yeah, ‘cause we love to eat.” Jackson Reed, dark and handsome, flashed a smile.
“Welcome back, man.” Jose clapped Carlos on the shoulder.
Her girlfriends were unusually quiet. Trella looked to find Selina and Melissa staring toward the door. Following their line of sight, Trella realized they were both enraptured by Jose. She chuckled. “Fine” was an understatement when applied to Jose. He bore a resemblance to Dwayne Johnson, and she’d witnessed people mistake him for the action star several times.
Trella rose from her seat. “I’m sure I have Carlos to thank for this surprise. It’s a pleasure seeing you all again.”
Melissa grinned. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
After the laughter died down, Trella introduced Louis’ former squad members. “Guys, these are my closest friends, Melissa Garrett and Selina Muniz.” She didn’t miss the flare of interest on Jose’s face as he appraised Melissa.
Donovan grasped Trella’s hands in a firm shake. “Happy birthday. Thanks for allowing us to be here.”
“Glad to see you smiling again.” Jackson patted her lightly on the back.
Jose took her hands and held them a moment before pulling her into an embrace. “I hope we’re not ruining your evening with unwanted memories,” he whispered against her ear.
“As if.” She pulled away. “Thank you.”
Carlos sidled up next to her. He indicated the children standing in front of him. “Our two young guests are Maria and Adam, Alfonso’s grandchildren.”
She pasted a bright smile on her face for their benefit. “I’m happy you both came to celebrate with me.”
Maria moved behind Carlos, burying her face in his slacks.
Adam grinned, displaying his teeth. “I’m four.”
Trella couldn’t help smiling at the friendly boy. “Wow. I wish I were four again.”
Maria tugged on Carlos’ hand. He immediately scooped her up in his arms and planted a big kiss on her cheek, earning the child’s laughter as her chubby arms wrapped around his neck.
As everyone laughed and enjoyed each other’s compa
ny Trella slipped from the room, retreating to the restaurant’s terrace.
The children obviously adored Carlos and he them. She swallowed down a pang of sadness. How had Louis behaved around children? It pained her she didn’t know the answer. They’d discussed having children, and when she mentioned she didn’t want them, he had assured her it was fine, and he’d be happy as long as they had each other.
She wasn’t surprised to hear the swoosh of the door opening nor was she surprised to feel hands lifting her hair before settling on her shoulders. His woodsy scent wafted over her as he stood close enough for her to feel the heat of his body.
He kneaded her muscles. “What’s wrong?”
Her skin tingled at his touch. She shook her head.
“What’s wrong?” he repeated.
He eased her around to face him. He stroked her back. She forced herself to relax, taking deep breaths to ease the clogging of her windpipe.
“After Louis, I didn’t think I’d feel happy again,” she squeaked out.
His lips flirted with her hairline. “I thought my inviting the children upset you.”
She cleared her throat as she eased from his embrace. “Why would you think I’d be upset about that?”
“Louis mentioned you didn’t have the best relationship with your parents.”
She nodded. “True…but I like children.”
“Then I’m surprised you two didn’t have any.”
There it was—the comment designed to invite her to expound on the subject. Avoiding the unspoken offer to share, she slid a hand down to clasp one of his. “You’re full of surprises.”
“Makes life interesting.” He squeezed her arms. “Ready to go back inside?”
* * * * *
The room vibrated with raucous laughter as the women, sitting at one table, challenged the men to an impromptu game of entertainment trivia.
“Name the name of the actress who starred with C. Thomas Howell in Soul Man,” Melissa asked.
Miguel groaned. “Is this seventies trivia?”
“Eighties,” Trella chimed in.
“No fair. I was barely watching TV then,” Miguel retorted.
“Wasn’t it Robbie something or other?” Carlos questioned.
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