‘‘Sex? Don’t ever forget you suggested it.’’
‘‘Not here,’’ she shrieked, genuinely alarmed.
He smiled. Telling himself to move slowly, he took another step toward her. As if he were a snake about to strike, Vivian sprang backward, straight into the shelves piled high with hats.
‘‘Mis sombreros,’’ Huicho cried as his shelves tilted, causing dozens of hats and lots of sandals to rain down on them.
Cash had never forced a woman before, and he never would—especially not in a public place. Then she screamed again, and vendors popped out of the woodwork to gape. To shut her up, Cash seized Vivian by the arms and crushed his mouth down on hers, hard.
At first her body was rigid and her lips stiff and unyielding.
‘‘Let me go!’’ She pounded at his chest with puny fists.
‘‘Hush!’’ His grip tightened. After that he was lost.
Next thing he knew, his tongue was in her mouth and he had her pinned to the wall. Her wriggling body against his felt better than anything he’d ever imagined, and hotter too. Perspiration dripped from her hair onto his hands. Desire spiraled through him.
Feeling as if his world had gone insane and he’d gone even crazier, he released her mouth and muttered, both savagely and tenderly, ‘‘I’ve never done this before. I swear to you.’’
‘‘I hate you,’’ she spat. ‘‘I’ll hate you forever if you don’t stop—’’
‘‘Just with you,’’ he growled. ‘‘This has only happened with you. Usually I’m the sanest man alive. Boringly sane.’’
When their mouths came together again, it was like a match falling on gasoline. He exploded, and after that, he couldn’t stop kissing her.
As for Vivian, she’d been dazed and furious when she’d left the house. Thinking herself safe from him in the market, she’d been terrified when he’d suddenly appeared, striding straight at her like a tall gringo god.
Then he’d seen her, and after that he hadn’t stopped staring at her with those wild green eyes that lured her. Dios, how he’d flushed every time he looked at her. Dios, how could just his eyes on her mouth turn her to mush?
Now that he was kissing her, with heated, demanding lips, she knew that he was temptation—at least for her—in its purest, rawest form. He was taller, bigger, darker than she remembered. Or at least he seemed so in the shadowy stall. She was like a moth who’d been exiled to the dark and cold too long, a moth who’d beat her wings to death just to be near the flame, even if the wicked tongue of desire burned so hotly she caught fire and was incinerated.
If Cash was here, he was only responding to her signals. This was all her fault. After years of rigid control, her body was betraying her, as she’d always feared it would.
When he grabbed her again, to her horror and embarrassment and immense delight, her hands slid up around his neck and she threw her body into his. Their clothes were damp with perspiration, their skin hotter. She heard him gasp. The fact that he wanted her thrilled her. Her lips opened, and she was kissing him back with an urgency that more than matched his.
Her tongue was in his mouth, and she wanted it there. Heat lit every cell in her body and made her feel achingly alive. Every minute since she’d run out of the pool house, she’d been thinking about how gorgeous he was, every long inch of him. Over and over again she’d relived him ripping off that sheet so she could see him.
Her hands slid around his back, which was warm and muscular and damp. Dios, he felt even better than he looked. She wanted to tear his wet shirt off and lick his body as she had in her dream.
Mindlessly, she was running her fingers up the contours of his broad shoulders and raking her fingertips through his silky black hair, thrilled that he groaned and gasped at her slightest touch. He made her feel precious and desirable and all woman.
He was hard and hot and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going. She had to open her eyes, and when she did, she saw half a dozen familiar brown faces from the village. When she blinked, they began to giggle and hide their smirks.
She shut her eyes in mortification. The villagers would never take her seriously again. But the minute her eyes were closed, she became a wanton creature of sensation again, a woman who needed a man to hold her as Cash was holding her. She was blissfully aware only of his mouth and hands, aware only of his taste and her own wildly pulsating hunger for more.
Isabela. He belongs to Isabela.
Vivian had to remember that. But it wasn’t easy, not when some deep part of her wanted him so much. The thought that he could never be hers only made her kiss him more desperately and cling more tightly.
When he cupped his hands around her breasts and raked his fingernails across her erect nipples, she pulled him behind a stack of hats on the countertop and pressed her fingers against his fly and touched him through his jeans just to make sure he was as turned on as she was.
He was.
Curls of flaming heat exploded in her blood. She wanted more breathless kisses, more…more… She squeezed him gently through the denim.
He groaned and gripped her tighter. ‘‘Aphrodite, unless you want it here and now in this melting hell hole, on this concrete floor on top of a bunch of straw hats in front of your friends, we’d better clear out of here fast.’’
As suddenly as he’d seized her, his big brown hands fell to his sides, where they hung like claws knotted. She could see his pulse hammering in his throat—as hers was. He panted for every breath as she did.
Dios, he wanted her, every bit as much as she wanted him. She imagined a roller-coaster car flying off its track, out of control.
Not good.
‘‘I shouldn’t have kissed you.’’ His voice was rough and strange even as his eyes drank in her face. His expression hardened.
‘‘If ever there was an understatement…’’ She shut her eyes because just looking at his exquisite, carved face with all that wavy black hair falling across his dark brow made her want to forget Isabela and all her sister-in-law meant to her and throw herself into his arms and kiss and touch him all over again.
She wanted to smooth his hair back, to lock her legs around his waist and rub herself against that bulge in his pants. She wanted him inside her. She wanted to climax again and again and then lie in bed with him afterward for hours. She was insane.
‘‘I don’t know what got into me,’’ he said, forcing out the words between harsh breaths. ‘‘I’ve been like a dead man so long. You’re better than a roller-coaster ride.’’
You too.
‘‘A thrill a minute,’’ she agreed, almost hating herself because it was true.
‘‘So, you’re conceited about your immense sex appeal?’’ His voice was harsh.
‘‘Not really. My car has a tendency to fly off the track—and you know what happens to cars that fly?’’
He met her eyes with frank curiosity.
‘‘Gravity,’’ she whispered. ‘‘It’s always fatal.’’
‘‘Every time I look at you, I want to devour you,’’ he said, and she heard the hunger in his low, angry tone. ‘‘Since the moment I saw you. Before that, even. Since the moment I felt you.’’
‘‘Felt me?’’
‘‘When I stood under your balcony last night.’’
‘‘I was up there…hiding.’’
‘‘Just looking at you now makes me feel like I’m melting. What the hell’s wrong with me? Nothing like this has ever happened to me before—Hell, I’m even repeating myself.’’
‘‘Well, it’s happened to me. Trust me, this is the best part of the ride—the first kiss. The thrill lasts for a while. Then the car flies into the ground and smashes you all to bits. It’s not pretty. The aftermath lasts a lot longer than the thrills.’’
‘‘That’s what happened to you and Julio?’’
‘‘To me, anyway. Julio just hopped in a brand-new car. I’m not like that—but being a man, you probably are. History has a way
of repeating itself. I’m no good at picking men.’’
‘‘I’m not Julio.’’
‘‘Lucky you. Lucky Julio. He walked away without a scratch. But not me. And you know what I think? I think you’re way more dangerous than Julio. Way, way worse—at least for me. And me is who I have to protect.’’
‘‘What?’’ The hurt tone in his deep voice as well as the anguish in his dark eyes crushed her.
‘‘You belong to Isabela.’’
‘‘Do I? Maybe you don’t know everything. Maybe you just think you do.’’
‘‘I know all I need to know. So, here’s what we’re going to do,’’ she began.
‘‘How come you get to call the shots? This has thrown me for a loop too.’’
‘‘Because I’m experienced at this lust at first sight or love at first sight, and you’re not!’’ She squared her shoulders. ‘‘I for one want to be more than a sex object. I want to be a real person to the next man I get involved with. So, you’re going back to Isabela. You two belong together. Like should marry like.’’
‘‘Like should marry like?’’
‘‘Yes. So, you’re going to the beach house just as you planned. Then I’m taking Miguelito to the park the way we always do. From now on, you and I—we don’t see each other or talk to each other until you’re gone.’’
‘‘All right, on one condition. First, you have coffee with me in one of those puestos on the square. We’ll talk this out like normal human beings,’’ he said. ‘‘We’ll make our plan. Then—and only then—I’ll agree to avoid you.’’
‘‘No—’’
‘‘If you don’t agree, I’ll hop in your car and kiss you again and make your car fly off the track.’’ The corner of his mouth lifted.
‘‘I don’t care. My life’s already smashed to pieces. I’ve got nothing to lose. A kiss, I can handle.’’
‘‘Can you?’’ he whispered.
‘‘Watch!’’ She moved toward him. When she puckered her lips, he jumped back. ‘‘See, maybe you can’t either.’’
‘‘You’re dangerous,’’ he muttered.
‘‘So are you. But not to me. I’m a big girl now. I know better than to go for roller-coaster rides.’’ She tossed her head back, put her hands on her hips and tried to look like she had confidence in what she was saying.
‘‘Coffee, tea—or me?’’ he murmured in her ear, his breath so warm that she tingled all over.
‘‘That’s an old line.’’ She jumped away.
‘‘Whatever works.’’
She laughed and then pointed to Huicho, who was holding five smashed hats. ‘‘I think your size-fifteen shoes flattened a lot of hats.’’
‘‘Size twelve,’’ he muttered rather defensively, studying his feet.
‘‘Buy them…and I’ll have that drink of coffee on the square with you.’’
‘‘You’re easy.’’
She blushed. ‘‘Which is why we’re in this mess. But, if I’m easy, you—Mr. Big Shot Big-Footed Famous Architect—you aren’t exactly playing hard-to-get yourself.’’
To her astonishment, he flushed as deeply as she would have had he said that to her. And he was cute—too cute—when he blushed.
‘‘Loan me a couple of twenties,’’ he said.
‘‘What?’’
‘‘I’m afraid I gave all my money to the beggars….’’ He broke off sheepishly.
This was bad. Really bad.
Rich guys weren’t supposed to have big hearts.
Seven
‘‘We’d like a table away from the crowd,’’ Cash told the white-coated waiter, who rushed to greet them with a big smile and menus at the entrance of the sidewalk café.
‘‘No.’’
The last thing Vivian wanted was to be alone with him, but before she could protest, a loud wolf whistle behind her made her turn beet red and whirl around furiously.
A parrot in a giant cage flapped his wings flirtatiously at her as every male customer turned to stare and smirk.
‘‘Somebody besides me thinks you’re a very sexy lady,’’ Cash murmured. ‘‘I’ve got a birdbrained rival.’’ Then he saw the other men and returned their glances coldly. ‘‘Too many rivals.’’
‘‘This is Mexico.’’ She laughed nervously and leaned toward the bird’s cage. The parrot had forgotten her and was pecking at a pinto bean.
‘‘Pretty boy, you’ve clearly been around too many macho males.’’
The bird dropped his bean. ‘‘Sexy lady. Sexy lady,’’ he repeated.
‘‘Demanding creature,’’ Cash said as they sat down at a small corner table under a massive stone archway.
‘‘He was cute.’’
‘‘I bet you wouldn’t say that if I whistled like that.’’
‘‘You did far worse.’’ She blushed.
‘‘All right, may I apologize, then? Will you ever forgive me?’’
She froze. ‘‘I think it’s safer if I stay mad.’’
‘‘It’s not like I committed murder. All I did was kiss you.’’ He shot her a look that made her shiver.
She squeezed her hands together and put them in her lap. ‘‘I guess I can try.’’
‘‘That’s very generous of you. Thanks.’’
She picked up her purse and pulled her cell phone out.
‘‘Expecting a call?’’
She turned it off. ‘‘No. Avoiding one.’’
‘‘Julio?’’
She nodded. Then she tried to sit straight and stiff and keep her hands in her lap, but Cash was so big and so close that she squirmed and scooted back in her seat in an effort to put some distance between them. But when she did, her bare legs brushed Cash’s denim jeans underneath the table. He readjusted his long legs to avoid hers, and they banged legs again.
‘‘Sorry—long legs,’’ he said.
She laughed awkwardly and wished she were anywhere in the whole world but here with him.
She stared up at the ceiling fan that whisked warm air overhead. Then she looked down and became fascinated by the way the air stirred Cash’s longish black hair that fell against his collar. That hair. Those eyes. That big male body.
Listen to the music—do anything but think about him!
The background music swung from Madame Butterfly to heavy metal. The caged parrot squawked at every new customer.
‘‘No other lady’s rated a wolf whistle except you, sexy lady,’’ Cash said. ‘‘I’ve been watching the entrance.’’
She neither looked at him nor commented.
The waiter came, and they ordered. When he brought some of their food, Vivian felt better because she could munch on a little log of her favorite leche quemada, a sinful, unique recipe found only in this restaurant consisting of caramelized milk, ground almonds, cinnamon, and sherry. Cash guzzled his coffee. At least she had something to do with her hands and mouth, and the candy was so delicious, maybe it would distract her from how appealing he was. But still, his dark good looks struck her. Even though he was behaving like a gentleman, his warmth and charm made her sizzle.
They sat in silence for a while, and just when she was beginning to think she might survive their attempt to act like two normal human beings around each other, he leaned across the table and tipped his new Panama hat toward her at a rakish angle.
‘‘Does this hat make me look young and sexy?’’ he said, his green eyes dancing in a way that made her heart do an absurd flip.
‘‘You ask a lot of a hat,’’ she retorted, licking at her candy with the tip of her tongue.
When he watched her tongue flick, she grew self-conscious and tossed her candy on the plate. ‘‘What did you want to tell me?’’
‘‘Better off or on? What do you think?’’
‘‘P-l-e-e-ase,’’ she drawled, staring up at the ceiling fan. ‘‘We had a reason for coming here.’’
Then he took it off and fanned her with it while he made a funny face. She couldn’t help giggling. He put it bac
k on and tilted it to one side, so that it cast half his carved face in shadow.
He had broad hands, long fingers, nails that were trimmed just so. Nice hands… They’d felt good too, burningly, deliciously, sinfully good.
‘‘On or off?’’ he persisted.
‘‘Off.’’
He grimaced and took it off, then combed his hands through his hair. She knew he was trying to make her relax.
‘‘And I had such high expectations.’’ He stared at the hat rather wistfully and then lifted his gorgeous eyes to hers again and begged her to treat him like a normal human being.
Those eyes of his. They shredded her heart.
‘‘High expectations will break your heart,’’ she whispered as she ripped the hat he’d bought for her off her head and placed it on top of his.
‘‘Only if they’re wrong.’’ He lifted his black brows and watched as she shook out her hair. ‘‘What if they’re right?’’
‘‘You’re probably a better gambler than I.’’
‘‘There was a crowd in Florence night before last that has me wondering. I built a building that they don’t like.’’
‘‘Is it off with your head, then?’’ She laughed and sliced a finger across her throat.
He didn’t laugh. ‘‘They wanted to cut off other parts of my anatomy.’’
‘‘Let me guess.’’ Her eyes drifted down his broad chest, causing him to flush and shift in his chair. ‘‘The family jewels?’’
His neck turned purple.
‘‘Do you regret building it?’’
‘‘Yes and no. I had to push myself. If you don’t push yourself, you go nowhere.’’ His face darkened. ‘‘Isn’t that what you’ve been doing down here for the past seven years?’’
Hastily she bit off more caramelized candy. ‘‘Let’s talk about something more interesting than my slow-paced life here.’’
‘‘Sex?’’ He grinned.
‘‘Not sex.’’
‘‘And not your life? I’m all out of subjects.’’
She drew in a slow breath. ‘‘An architect should have a more active imagination.’’
‘‘You’ve had my imagination working overtime lately,’’ he murmured, his eyes on her mouth.
Ready for Marriage? Page 36