Manhattan Holiday

by Linda Engman

  “No,” Emily protested. “Absolutely not. I knew how you felt about Roman. I only intended to have you come down and enjoy a Todd-memory-free weekend away from snowy Manhattan. Although I have to confess, I thought if you did happened to run into my dear brother down here, it might have been a good way to break the news to you that he was my sibling besides the ice between you two. If not—no harm done.”

  “Sounds plausible,” April countered, still not sure.

  “Besides, I doubt Roman would have been around much even if you’d come down with me instead. He’s always working or out drinking with his buddies or off doing something dangerous.”

  “You definitely know your brother,” she surmised. “Anyhow, for some reason your sibling took an instant dislike to me the minute we met.”

  “Sounds like classic mixed signals if you ask me.”

  “You know, you may be right. Maybe I was just reading more into those stormy scrutinizing looks I’ve been receiving for the last six months. Obviously I’ve also been misinterpreting why he avoids me like the plague when he’s in the office. Besides how he looks like I’m sentencing him to do ten-to-twenty in the state pen when he stops at my desk.”

  Emily laughed, her reply both teasing and warning at the same time. “Don’t forget—love and hate are closely related.”

  “Thanks for the heads up.”

  “Anyhow, on a happy note, my mother is having an absolute ball planning this wedding,” Emily reassured her. “So no more worries.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” April’s heart sank. “I’m really sorry we have to fool your mother. But Roman thought it was for the best, and I agreed. But after meeting her and finding out how wonderful she is…well…now I feel awful for doing this. I don’t want her to be hurt when Roman and I part in the near future.”

  “Don’t worry, April. Everything is working out the way it should.”

  “The way it should? That’s very cryptic.”

  Emily swigged down the last of her Flirtini, slipped into her five-inch designer heels, and headed to the door with a secretive smile on her lips. “Like I said, don’t worry, April. I have a very good feeling my mother will not be disappointed.” With that strange statement hanging in midair, Emily disappeared, but not before reminding her that more courage fortifying cocktails awaited them along with dinner in about an hour.

  After the door closed, April remained on the bed, mindlessly glancing out to the magnificent ocean view, unresolved about the predicament she now found herself in. Could her life become any more complicated?

  First you let a sexy Latin man talk you into marrying him, and now you find out he comes with paparazzi, a mother who’s pushing him down the aisle, and his little sis is your BFF?

  …and let’s not forget the awesome abs, devilish smile, and the fact the guy can cook.

  She moaned. A mere twenty-four hours ago, she was just a normal jilted legal assistant on the mend with a whole new outlook on life. Ready for anything.

  But definitely not for Roman Vasquez.

  Chapter Seven

  Roman kicked his motorcycle into gear and tore out of the garage with a roar, burning down the black paved drive and out onto the palm tree-lined street. He slowed his speed after half a block, mindful of the neighbors and the children who lived in the area. Speed. That was exactly what he needed to help him release this pent-up frustration he was experiencing; that or a dozen shots of straight-up tequila minus the salt and lime.

  With the hot Miami sun beating down on him, he drove for a few more minutes, finally pulling into a sunny, well-groomed neighborhood park. He slowed, taking a corner smoothly to direct his cycle into a parking lot next to a group of basketball courts. He came to a stop, killed the engine of his V Star 1300 and pushed the kickstand down with his left foot. Still in an ornery mood, he ripped off his helmet, plunking it down on the seat in front of him with an attitude.

  “Shit…”

  The angry swear word hung in the muggy Florida afternoon air and did little to ease his black mood. He now found himself totally pissed for being such an asshole…for acting like a hormonal jerk trying to impress some girl…for getting it all wrong with her.

  Damn it.

  On the jet earlier when she came out after changing her clothes, he’d watched her as she moved toward him, at the time feeling like someone had kick-boxed him in the stomach. It was like that every time he saw her—a feeling of helplessness that scared him, a sense of losing himself in her. A desire to be with her that took him by surprise. He’d felt it over the past few months, last night, and today. Instead of going away—which he told himself that it would eventually—it was getting stronger.

  It was worse than trying to survive hell week during his BUD/S training to become a Navy SEAL.

  He laughed suddenly, the tension easing from him somewhat, at the memory of her shocked expression when he forced her to wear his headphones. The woman was surprising. She was like a fresh new day. Clean, uncluttered, and open to anything. No matter what he threw at her, she either dealt with it or used her sharp wit to overcome it. She was so unlike the women he’d dated in his past, all of whom happened to be annoying, demanding, and liked to whine about everything. April Sutton, on the other hand, seemed to make the best of anything that came her way, whether it was a change in plans or finding out her best friend was also his sister. She hadn’t even been flustered. On the contrary, she’d immediately started gabbing with Emily, forgetting him altogether.

  This thought made him reflect on the other women in his life: his sister, strangely enough, was happily smug about the whole deal. And his mother? She’d looked pleased as punch with his choice of a bride. So much so it was downright scary.

  So what’s the problem, Vasquez?

  He glanced about the busy park, taking in the families sitting under the trees, the kids playing Frisbee, along with the pickup games of basketball in progress. The busy view still couldn’t distract him from the troubled core of the situation: that he could have carried out this marriage deal the same way he had planned to with Justine. But for some godforsaken reason, he’d been compelled to offer April more.

  He also had an asinine, uncontrolled need to win her over. A surge of pure arrogance burned through his blood. Truthfully, it was more than arrogance—it was also a powerful feeling of longing.

  He’d grown up in a loving family, had good friends, a handful of relationships with women, but never really felt like he needed someone before. Not like this.

  He gritted his teeth and shook his head in denial. With determination he ground the feeling out of his system, deciding he was reading too much into the situation. He was getting married and the money would be his. Afterward they would part as planned. That was the one thing Miss April Sutton was sure to see too. She wanted love, babies, and a man who could be faithful. Obviously he wasn’t that guy.

  So why does it bother me so much that I’m not that guy? He groaned with self-loathing.

  Refusing to find an answer to his own question, he swung his leg over the seat of his bike as another motorcycle pulled up alongside him, followed by a black Jeep sans the sides and roof with only a black roll bar present. Realizing he’d been discovered and tracked down by his usual crew, whether he wanted their company or not.

  Before he could utter a greeting, the band of four men started in with whoops of man-style celebration. Complete with full gutter language, they rapid-fired questions at him in a mix of Spanish and English, targeting his manhood, mental state, and how far along the chick he was marrying was knocked up.

  A cold chill ran down his spine. They knew.

  “Amigo, I got a wicked call this morning from your mama. She was talking loco like you were getting married?”

  “Lucky shit! Are her boobs huge yet? Don’t chicks get big awesome boobs when they’re having a kid?”

  “Bro…never thought I’d see the day. She must have some ass or you’re completely nuts.”

  “Dude, it’s
not too late to bolt. We can be in Hawaii surfing and pounding back some beers before anyone knows we’re gone.”

  Rafael Quintero, Trey Daniels, Rocky Kidd, and Juan Dias: his so-called friends. Rafael and Juan longtime friends from his childhood, while Trey and Rocky held the title of leftover buddies from Navy SEAL days. All of them currently surrounding him like a pack of wolves going in for the kill. He broke out into a lethal grin and realized he might as well let them enjoy their obnoxious fun. The men had obviously been summoned by his mother at the spur of the moment for his wedding; showing without fail and no questions asked. The realization made him a little choked up. Immediately he pushed it away—he needed to keep his focus and dampen down some fires and make the marriage thing somewhat believable before the guys met his intended bride.

  “Okay, you jerks, have your fun. But just wait…your day is coming,” he predicted as a round of vehement denials came from the group of men.

  “Not likely, dude.”

  “Get nailed down? No way, man.”

  “Second that.”

  “Marriage for you, amigo? Have you…how you say…take a blow to the head?” his friend Rafael finished in broken English.

  Roman shook his head and couldn’t keep from grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, save it, you bunch of assholes. Just wait. When you meet April you’re gonna be eating your words, and dying since there’s only one of her and she’s all mine.” The minute he spoke the boastful words, another powerful feeling gripped him. Only this time it didn’t land in his gut, but instead slammed into his heart, on account of the fact he’d knowingly spoken the truth—not a lie. He swallowed hard, his happy-go-lucky grin fading while he suddenly felt the overwhelming need for it to be real.

  Rafael slung an arm around his neck, pulling him into a headlock embrace, and whispered to him in Spanish. “At first I doubted this was for real but I see it in your eyes. You’re in love.” Rafael laughed menacingly at his friend’s predicament. “Don’t worry, amigo…it’s not so bad. You’ll survive it.”

  After his sudden clarity regarding his feelings toward April, Roman didn’t appreciate his friend’s warped sense of humor. He shrugged out of Rafael’s big brother headlock and quickly whipped off his T-shirt. Tossing it onto the seat of his motorcycle, he promptly switched gears.

  “C’mon, guys, enough talk about chicks. Who’s up for a game of serious hoops?”

  ****

  April leaned back in her lounge chair, feeling as if she was in a fantasy. A tropical breeze glided across the darkened patio as the moon, which was almost full, streaked light beams across the glistening onyx-black ocean. A line of votive candles flickered along the edge of the outdoor room, lending an air of romance to the heady setting. She kicked off her heels and stretched out, sighing happily. Dinner was long over, and Emily and her husband Jake had decided to go out to visit friends. Lana had already retired, explaining she wanted extra rest tonight since the next day and evening were going to be a long one with the wedding and New Year’s Eve.

  She smiled contently and thought back to dinner and how Roman’s mother had informed her about the wedding plans she’d already made, which included: guests, food, drinks, flowers and music. Lana Vasquez, in her hands-on motherly fashion, had explained the mind-boggling details with unadulterated enthusiasm. She’d informed all who were seated about the dining table that the nuptials were to take place promptly after dark, outside along the edge of the pool, with a multitude of candles and full moon. Lana even inquired as to whether April had a wedding dress. The request almost made her smile, since Roman’s mother was so much like him. She didn’t have a doubt where he got his forcefulness and tenacity.

  Nicely, and with more enthusiasm than she thought she had, she’d described her wedding gown to Lana and Emily in full detail even as she stole a quick glance to see Roman’s reaction. He’d been quietly sitting next to her throughout the meal, his arm draped casually along the back of her chair, his fingers gently caressing her bare shoulder with an intimate touch, almost as if it were the most natural thing to do. He hadn’t spoken much during dinner, which surprised her. Instead he chose to sit back and listen while his mother talked nonstop about wedding plans. The only time he said anything, she recalled, was when he talked to Emily’s husband Jake about the upcoming football playoffs.

  Posed around the table with Roman and his family, with romantic Latin music playing in the background, the homey touches of the holiday season evident, delicious food, wine, and conversation, April couldn’t help but marvel at how everything was coming together. It astonished her to find all the details were falling into place so simple and trouble-free. For a brief moment, she’d even permitted herself to pretend it was real, to imagine she was in love with him and excited like any bride would be about their wedding, which was effortless when she felt the love that had traveled around the table.

  Wishful thinking, she thought now, watching the stars sparkle in the inky midnight sky. Her mind easily traveled back again to how he had been so quiet. It was unusual for him. But his newfound quiet reserve wasn’t the only thing different about him. There was something in his eyes akin to soulful reflection. He’d looked at her strangely tonight, almost as if she were a complete mystery to him. She knew they didn’t really know one another well, but for some reason, he’d seemed almost guarded when he looked her way. And some of his touches during dinner had been hesitant, so unlike the forceful man she’d come to know.

  “Plotting my demise?”

  April jumped at the sound of his deep voice as it resonated in the sultry night air. He moved away from the open patio door he’d been casually leaning against and came to stand in front of the chaise lounge where she was relaxing. The button-down shirt he had changed into before dinner was now completely undone, and his feet were bare. His short hair was rumpled like he’d been running his hands through it; the defined hard plains of his face covered in unshaved scruff. To April he looked sexier than any man she’d ever encountered and more dangerous than any man she’d ever imagined.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but you weren’t on my mind. Not all women are thinking all Roman Vasquez, all the time,” she smarted back, not liking how he had been leaning against the open French door watching her for who knows how long.

  He smiled reluctantly. “It may come as a shock to you, but there are some women who like to hang out with me.”

  “Sorry, you’re stuck with me.” She wished he would stop looking at her like he had something in mind. “Can I help you with something, or do you like to lurk in the shadows on your downtime?”

  He chuckled and moved closer. “Actually, I wanted to know…” He paused and cleared his throat, seeming uncomfortable as he jammed his hands into his front jean pockets and shifted his bare feet. “…ah, I mean, I was thinking maybe we could go out and meet up with some friends of mine and their girlfriends. They’re all in town for the wedding and at a local club having drinks tonight.”

  She blinked, closed her gaping mouth, and felt her face blush ridiculously. Oh my God! Is he asking me out? Like on a date? No way. “Ah…I think I’ll pass. It’s getting pretty late. But thanks for the invite.”

  He nodded and shifted his feet again. “Yeah, guess you’ll probably meet them at the wedding anyway.” He ran a quick hand through his hair and looked out at the glistening ocean before turning back to her, his strong features masked in the shadowy moonlight. “You up for a motorcycle ride? We could go down the coast a ways and back.”

  Is he for real? “Along with late nights, I don’t do speed. The thought of being on a motorcycle blasting down some highway at midnight is right up there with having my wisdom teeth pulled.”

  He actually looked disappointed now. “Oh, yeah, I suppose.”

  Great. Now I feel guilty. “Uh…I mean thanks for the offer…but no.”

  He shrugged with indifference, sauntering over to the pool and back to her with pent-up energy. “How about a swim down at the beach?” he suggested, undaunted a
t her first two refusals. “You don’t have to bother with a swimsuit since it’s plenty dark down there.”

  Seriously, skinny-dipping? This time she couldn’t help but laugh. “I had no idea you had such a great sense of humor,” she said, her body shaking with mirth, as he looked anything but amused. “Oh…you’re really serious?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  She tried unsuccessfully to stamp down a lingering grin. “Need I refresh your memory that I’m a legal assistant, not a Navy SEAL. And I don’t remember skinny-dipping in the contract I signed last night. Was that in section five or nine?”

  “I’m serious, April. Don’t you want to live a little?” he challenged, sounding irritated.

  “I think marrying a man I hardly know on the spur of the moment is enough living for me.”

  “All right, fine. We’ll stick to the contract. I’ll swim by myself,” he grumbled, storming off for a second time in one day.

  “Aren’t you going to meet up with your friends?” she called.

  “Not if you aren’t going with me,” he threw over his shoulder. “And I’m not in the mood anymore.”

  With that cantankerous reply, she watched him pound his way across the patio and around the pool toward the beach as he stripped off his shirt. For a second she caught a glimpse of his naked lean torso and felt a flash of regret at turning him down. The guy was single, muscled with sexy tattoos, hot to say the least, and wanted to swim naked with her. She paused. Did she really turn him down?

  Hey, somebody has to be the adult.

  Hot guy, naked, water, hmm? Just saying…

  Stick with the plan, April.

  “Oh, spoilsport” she murmured, then picked up her heels and darted through the open French doors and back into the house before she could change her mind.

  In her room, she changed out of her dress into a sheer short nightgown in a cream-colored gauzy fabric—a total impulse buy when she was in Macy’s shopping the day before. Actually, the purchase was the result of two overzealous sales attendants and one bridal consultant. They’d tempted her with one piece of pretty nightwear after another, gleefully informing her she needed sexy lingerie for the impromptu honeymoon that was to follow being whisked off for a romantic heart-stopping wedding. After they’d helped her try on what seemed to be an endless array of wedding dresses for hours on end, she hadn’t the energy nor the heart to refuse them. And the fact it was a fake wedding hadn’t even mattered, since she still found herself turned into the typical blathering female once the three women started asking questions about her impending nuptials.