PaintedPassion

by Tamara Hunter

  When Carlos turned the truck into Trella’s driveway, Melissa and Selina were climbing into Selina’s white BMW sedan. He parked beside them.

  With a wave of her hand, Selina indicated for him to lower his passenger side window.

  He pressed a button, allowing the tinted glass to descend.

  She leaned over the side of the door. “We’re rooting for you, but you need to get your act together.”

  “What?”

  She smirked. “If you want to keep Trella, leave Bambi grazing in the forest with the other animals.”

  He cut his engine and hopped out of the Jeep. Normally, he didn’t care for people having a say about his business, but in this case, he could use their help.

  “How do I make her realize I’m serious?”

  “Be there for her.” Melissa piped up from the sedan’s passenger seat. “No matter how much she pushes you away.”

  He glanced at the house, hoping the subject of their conversation wasn’t watching. “Do I have a chance?”

  Selina brushed a hand over her hair. “You have more than a chance, but don’t screw it up.”

  He bowed. “I see why you’re both special to her.”

  Melissa eyed him as she sucked her teeth. “Don’t forget it, either. If need be, we kick butt for her, too.”

  Laughing, Carlos shook his head, as Selina peeled out of the driveway. He opened the door, set the alarm then searched for his favorite female.

  He found her beyond the patio in the pool. He kneeled at the concrete edge as she swam a lap toward him.

  “Hey, you.”

  He greeted her as she climbed out, wearing a one-piece swimsuit with a deep, plunging front. Two tortoiseshell rings connected the sides of the material an inch or so above her navel.

  She patted her face dry. “How’d it go?”

  He straightened. “We’re making progress.”

  She sauntered past, giving him a heart-stopping view of her rear. His cock stirred to attention. She stretched out on a lounger, arms behind her head.

  “I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to enjoy the pool.” She gestured at his clothes. “Strip and swim a few laps.”

  He grinned. “In front of you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Carlos shed his jeans and shirt, standing in front of her wearing black boxer-briefs.

  “I love your body,” she breathed. “You’re an artist’s wet dream.”

  His erection strained against the material in response to her obvious enjoyment of his physique. “Not just any artist. I’m happy being your muse.”

  Trella grinned. “Thank goodness.” She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his underwear. The brush of her nails against his legs as she dragged the material to his ankles caused him to shudder.

  “Last one in has to cook dinner.”

  She dived into the pool, leaving him to recover from her touch.

  Carlos kicked his briefs off his ankles. He plunged into the cool water after her, quickly cutting the lead with his long strokes. He wrapped a hand around her waist, stilling her movement as he slid up her body.

  She wiped a hand down her face. “You’re cooking tonight.”

  “Because I was the last one in the pool?”

  She nodded. “That’s the rule.”

  “Your rule. Here’s mine—first one to come cooks dinner.”

  He eased the bottom of her swimsuit aside, giving his fingers access to her pussy. He palmed her, rubbing her softly, then slid his fingers back and forth over her clit. He peppered her neck with kisses. When he gently sucked on the sensitive spot beneath her ear, she moaned, shifting to allow him greater access.

  The sound of the perimeter alarm roused him from his headlong dive into loving her.

  She gasped. “Did you hear the alarm?”

  Carlos was already up and out of the water. He raced into the house to view the camera. Alfonso was busy helping his grandchildren climb from his white pick-up.

  Carlos hurried back to the patio. “It’s Alfonso.”

  “I’ll answer the door. You get dressed.” She hastily slid on a terry-cloth cover-up. “Saved by Alfonso.”

  “You better thank him, because you were going down, woman.”

  “Thought I did that yesterday.”

  As Trella sashayed into the house, Carlos’ laughter floated to her ears.

  By the time she opened the front door, Alfonso stood on the porch, Adam holding one hand and Maria grasping the other.

  “Good to see you again, Alfonso.” She bent at the waist to put herself near the children’s eye level. “Nice to see you two.” She straightened. “Come on in.”

  “Hate to bother you, but is Carlos around?”

  “He is. He’s out on the patio.” She led the way, not failing to notice the boy’s quiet but wide-eyed study of her home.

  Clothed once more in jeans and t-shirt, Carlos stood with his arms folded in front of his chest, watching sports highlights as the small crowd joined him outside.

  Eyes alight with pleasure, Maria tugged free of her grandfather’s hand and sprang for him.

  Carlos laughed as he picked her up and swung her around. “How’s the prettiest little girl in the world?”

  Her giggles tugged at Trella’s heart.

  Adam walked the length of the covered patio, stopping every few seconds to play with the bountiful crimson-red and violet bougainvilleas overflowing the cement planters.

  Alfonso tugged his Diamondbacks baseball cap lower on his head. “Sorry to bother you, but I have information for Carlos.”

  The look of grim resignation chased away the smile on Carlos’ face.

  Trella caught Adam’s hand in hers. “I’ll take the children into the kitchen so you two can talk.”

  After a good deal of coaxing from Carlos, Maria allowed herself to be transferred into Trella’s arms.

  Carlos sat on a lounger, gesturing for Alfonso to do the same. He waited until Trella closed the patio door.

  Alfonso expelled his breath in a loud rush of air. “I have a worker who says he has a cousin who was involved in Rodriguez’s work program.”

  Carlos wanted to hug the other man, but he remained still, praying this was the break they needed. “Go on.”

  “Money was required upfront, and then once they arrived here, more money was expected.” The older man lowered his voice, although Trella and the children couldn’t hear him. “If the males can’t pay, they’re beaten. If the females don’t have the money or any relatives to send money, they end up earning on the streets.”

  Carlos clenched his fists, unable to stop the tide of rising anger. He braced his elbows on his thighs and lowered his head. He said a quick prayer for the women and girls who had to endure such atrocities. Rodriguez had a lot to answer for.

  “Did he have a contact?”

  Alfonso shook his head. “He says no, but I suspect he’s lying. He’s scared of what’ll happen if anyone finds out he talked.”

  “La familia?”

  Alfonso nodded.

  “If Rodriguez is arrested, chances are the man will be willing to talk then.” Carlos rose from the seat. “How’s Ava?”

  “Good. She’s talking about you finding a wife soon.” A twinkle appeared in the man’s eyes. “How’s Trella doing these days?”

  Carlos glanced at the door through which Trella and the children had disappeared. “We’ve grown closer.”

  Alfonso displayed a wide smile. “Ava will be pleased at the progress.”

  “I’m taking it slow.”

  “You’re good for her.”

  Carlos shared Alfonso’s sentiment, but until Trella recognized it for herself, a future together remained doubtful.

  * * * * *

  “Does your sister talk much?” Trella asked Adam as he sat at the kitchen table.

  The boy swung his feet back and forth, eyes wide as he gazed at his surroundings. “Mamá says she has to heat up first.”

  Trella smiled at his phrasing.
“You mean warm up to people?”

  He nodded.

  Maria stuck a thumb into her mouth, her sherry-colored eyes never shifting from Trella’s face.

  She ran a hand over the girl’s ink-black hair. “I have some cookies in the pantry. Interested?”

  Both children nodded.

  “Adam, please take your sister into the bathroom around the corner and wash your hands and hers.”

  Trella retrieved two saucers and glasses from the cabinet. She opened the pantry door. She hid the cookie jar from Miguel by keeping it stashed behind cans of vegetables. He rarely looked in the pantry, and if he did, he’d never search near veggies. She removed several chocolate chip cookies and placed them on the saucers.

  Trella listened to the children chatter and giggle while they did as they were told, positive more playing ensued than washing. When they returned, she poured two glasses of milk then settled at the table across from them.

  “You married?” Adam asked from around a mouthful of cookie.

  Maria ate in silence, mouth working, but her beautiful, soulful eyes remained ever watchful of Trella.

  “Not anymore.” Trella was amazed the question didn’t bother her.

  “Why?”

  Telling him of Louis’ death would only invite more questions. Surely a more vague response would work better. “My husband isn’t around anymore.”

  Maria climbed from her chair, teetering her way to where Trella sat. She climbed onto her lap before encircling her neck with soft, chubby arms. The little girl nestled her head beneath Trella’s neck and squeezed, as if the child were showing she understood Trella’s loss. A longing, deep and unexpected, shot through Trella’s body. Tears welled in her eyes as she breathed in the toddler’s fresh scent. Helpless against the wave of emotion, she stroked Maria’s cotton-covered back, feeling the child's warm breath against her neck.

  What would Carlos’ child look like? Would he or she have his easy smile? His thick, coal-colored curls?

  Sensing someone watching her, she glanced at the doorway. Carlos and Alfonso stared at her. Her face flushed at the raw look of desire on Carlos’ face.

  “Guess you two are friends now,” Alfonso stated.

  Trella tried to release Maria's arms but they tightened around her. She rose, one arm beneath the young girl’s bottom and the other securely against her back.

  “We had cookies and milk.” Adam piped up.

  “Did you thank Trella?” Alfonso asked, advancing farther into the room.

  “Thank you,” Adam dutifully blurted.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Alfonso peeled Maria from Trella, which caused the young girl’s face to crinkle with impending tears.

  Carlos kissed the youngster’s cheek then ruffled her hair. “How about Trella and I come visit you soon. Would you like that?”

  The threat of tears evaporated, and the little girl nodded, happy once again.

  Trella kept quiet as she followed Carlos and the small group to the door. She waved until they no longer could see the white truck.

  “Want to finish what we started?” Carlos hugged her from behind, nuzzling her neck.

  She ducked from his hold. “I need to paint. I’ve taken enough time away from my work for the day. Don’t worry about me for dinner. I’ll come down and fix a sandwich if I’m hungry.” She dashed from the room without looking at him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Trella stroked a brush dipped in burnt sienna across the canvas. She wasn’t sure which frightened her more—the tender way Carlos looked at her when she was holding Maria, or the knowing light in his eyes, as if he knew she’d been imagining what his children would look like.

  She selected another brush and dipped the tip in chromium green. From behind her came a knock at the door. She glanced around.

  Carlos entered the studio, carrying a tray of chocolate chip cookies, fresh fruit and a glass of lemonade. “Care to take a break?”

  “Not yet.”

  He set the food on a nearby table. “When?”

  She returned to her work. “What?”

  “When will you take a break?” An undercurrent of frustration laced his question.

  Changing brushes, she continued painting. “Don’t know.”

  His gaze bore into her, but she refused to look up.

  “I’m not going away, Trella.”

  Clearly. “I’m close to finishing. I’ll be down later.”

  He left, closing the door with a soft click. She blew out her breath in a rush of air. He wanted answers. Didn’t he understand she didn’t have them herself?

  She selected a Boney James album on her mp3 player and allowed the sensual sounds of the sax to knock Carlos out of her mind. She worked until long after midnight. Finally, she stretched, satisfied with the image of Carlos sitting on the daybed. She had to admit the man was handsome, and the most appealing aspect was the fact he appeared not to know it.

  Trella cleaned up then indulged in a relaxing shower. Wrapping a baby-pink silk robe around her, she retreated to the terrace. Twinkling stars lighted the sky, while the dark outlines of the mountains appeared as massive sentries guarding the valley below.

  “Ready to talk?”

  Gasping, she whirled around, one hand clutching her lapels. There, concealed in the shadows, Carlos sat at one of the tables.

  Her heart jumped. “Are you trying to finish me off before Hector has a chance?”

  “Didn’t mean to frighten you.” Carlos stayed seated. “I came in when you were taking a shower.”

  Trella tightened the robe’s belt. “And If I hadn’t come out here?”

  “I’d have come in.” The words he uttered low were harmless enough, but a thread of determination weaved throughout them.

  He approached with stealthy, confident steps.

  Damn him. She shrank against the railing, but there was no hiding place. This is what she longed to avoid—his belief he had a right to question or ask her to share her feelings simply because he shared her bed.

  His touch had a way of dissolving her concerns like solvent. She stiffened, determined not to acquiesce. Unnerved by the way his body dwarfed hers, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “The night I met you,” he began, his words low as if he hesitated to speak them louder. “You wore a navy pantsuit with a blouse the color of emeralds. Your eyes lit up with laughter. I couldn’t stop staring at you. My plan was to buy you a drink and introduce myself. You had a classy vibe, and I knew you wouldn’t tolerate a half-assed line.”

  Her heart thudded. She kept her attention focused on him, but he looked over her shoulder as if experiencing the past once again.

  “By the time I paid for the drink, Louis was sitting at the table deep in conversation with you. He always attracted women, but he didn’t usually pay attention to them. He was different with you. He paid attention to you. He looked at you as if you were his future.”

  Carlos stared down at her, allowing her to see the truth on his face. “Something about you affected me. I always brought a woman with me when I visited you two—I didn’t trust myself around you, and I would never hurt or disappoint my brother.”

  He placed his hands against the railing, bracketing her body with his. A light, clean and musky scent urged her closer. She unfolded her arms, easing her hands along his waist to grip the band of his jeans. Beneath her cheek, his heart thumped in a contented beat.

  Soft kisses at her hairline crumbled the remainder of her defenses, allowing his strength to flow through her and infuse with hers.

  He rubbed his large hands up and down her back, causing shivers in their wake. She had no idea how long they stood, absorbing the essence of each other’s being. In his arms, she found tranquility.

  “The painting Hector sent…”

  Carlos didn’t utter a word. His steady breathing calmed her, and she adjusted her own to his rhythm.

  “My parents’ love eclipsed everything in their lives. The flames repre
sented obstacles or trials in their lives that they never noticed because their focus was on each other.”

  She closed her eyes, afraid of the judgment she’d see in his face. Tears trickled down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. “This may sound strange, but I was happy to be sick. If one of my friends was sick, I tried my best to catch their flu. My best girlfriend had chicken pox. I was warned to stay away since I’d catch it.” She chuckled. “I was at her house every day, praying to see a rash or blister.” She forced the shameful words out. “Being sick meant one of my parents had to stay at home and focus on me.”

  Her throat clogged, but she fought against it. “I had the lead in a school play. My parents were discovered making out in a maintenance closet instead of watching me.” She laughed, the sound harsh and rough in the quietness. “I was left at school countless times because my parents had gone off somewhere together and forgot about me. ” She sniffled. “One time, I stayed so late, the janitor started driving me home. She was so angry at my parents. I remember she cussed them out for not at least giving me a key.” She sniffled. “The next day, my father handed me a key chain. But the janitor always drove me home from that day on.“

  A tear rolled down her cheek, quickly followed by another. “I understand being in traffic or stuck at work and arriving late to pick up your child. But to admit to forgetting about your own flesh and blood?” She shook her head. “My parents didn’t need children. Should never have had me. They had so much love and passion for each other, there was nothing left for me.” She sighed. “I’m so glad they never had another child.”

  His hands never stopped their movement, erasing layer after layer of pain with each stroke.

  She kept her eyes closed, knowing if she opened them, she’d never be able to continue. “I told Louis I didn’t want children, and he didn’t push the issue. Said he was happy being with me.” She swallowed. “Then I saw you with Adam and Maria, and it hit me.” She clutched him tighter. “I never witnessed how Louis interacted with children. I’m not sure if he ever wanted babies or if he was simply pleasing me by going along with my wishes. What woman doesn’t know how her husband feels about children and whether or not to start a family?”