Summer Vows (Arabesque)

by Alers, Rochelle

  Baron, finished with his exploration, started walking again. Ana slipped her hand into Jacob’s, gently squeezing his fingers. She found it warm, the palm slightly callused; the roughness indicated he wasn’t a stranger to hard work. “You say you know everything about me.”

  “I know enough,” Jacob confirmed.

  “But I know nothing about you,” Ana countered.

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Then tell me how you met Diego.”

  He stared through the dark lenses at ripples of water in the canal. “I was sixteen when I met your cousin for the first time when he’d come down to Miami for spring break. My father and I had just come back from a baseball game and we were heading downtown when without warning bullets started flying. Rival drug gangs stood in the middle of the street dueling like in the Old West. My father stopped his car when he saw Diego on the ground covering his head. Several bullets had landed inches from where he lay. Dad pulled out his off-duty service handgun, shot one of the perps and managed to pull Diego inside the car to safety. I was in shock because it was the first time I saw my father shoot someone. Once Dad had driven a safe distance, he got out and went back. Diego and I sat motionless. We stared at each other for what seemed like an hour when it was only ten minutes. Once Dad returned uninjured, both of us started crying like babies. I tease Diego when I say that he cried more than me, but he counters saying that at least he wasn’t slinging snot. I wish I’d had a camera phone, because then I would show him just how much snot he was not only slinging but also souping.”

  Throwing back her head, Ana laughed until she had to hold her chest. “That really must have been a sight. I can’t believe my big bad boogeyman cousin was crying like a baby.”

  Jacob sobered. “It wasn’t funny at the time. Not when you didn’t know if you were going to have to take your last breath. Diego stayed with us that night and the next day Dad drove him back to where he’d parked his car. He told Dad that he owed him his life and if he ever needed anything he was to get in touch with him.”

  “I’m surprised Diego never mentioned the incident.”

  “I’m certain it’s not something he’d want to relive. The three of us were sports fans, so every once in a while we’d get together and go to baseball, basketball and football games. When it came time for me to go to college, the bursar called my father and told him an anonymous donor had underwritten the cost of my tuition and room and board for all four years. We knew it was Diego, and it was only after my father passed away that he admitted to me it was the least he could do to repay him for saving his life.”

  A long silence ensued until Ana said, “It’s always been that way with the Coles. You save one and the family will be indebted to you for life. It was that way with Matthew Sterling who helped save my uncle’s life when he was left for dead in Mexico. Uncle Matt also helped rescue my father when he was kidnapped and held hostage in Costa Rica. Daddy came home with a scar on the left cheek and a woman whom he’d managed to get pregnant while in captivity.”

  It was Jacob’s turn to laugh, the unstrained deep sound coming from his chest. “I’ll be damned. When did he find time to do that?”

  “That’s what my uncles wanted to know. My mother was three months pregnant with my brother Gabriel when she and my father married.” A beat passed. “If you get me out of this situation without incident, then I’m going to owe you.”

  He shook his head. “No, you won’t.”

  “Yes, I will. After all, you’re giving up your vacation to look after me.”

  “The only thing I’m giving up is female company, because I still intend to go fishing.”

  Ana stopped again, turned and faced him. “What the heck am I if not female company?”

  A slow smile touched his firm mouth. “Not the female company I’m thinking about. But that can change if you decide to sleep with me,” he teased.

  Her mouth moved but no words came out. It wasn’t often that Ana was at a loss for words, but this was one of those times. “You are disgusting.”

  “Wrong, Ana!” Jacob spat out. “I’m not disgusting. I am a normal man with normal urges and making love with a woman just happens to be one of them. You can’t be that naïve not to know what goes on between a man and a woman.” He remembered her telling Sam that she loved him, and he didn’t want to believe that she and Sam weren’t sleeping together.

  Heat flooded her face. “¡Yo no dormiría con usted si fue el último hombre en la tierra!”

  He flashed a Cheshire cat grin. “Never say what you won’t do, Princess. I bet if I was the last man on earth and you needed some you’d change your mind. But then you’d have to stand in line and wait your turn.”

  Her eyes grew wider. “¿Comprende español?”

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Sí, Princesa. My best friend’s grandparents had come to the States from Cuba and whenever I went to his house they would speak to me in Spanish.”

  Although fluent in the language Ana rarely got to speak Spanish. She never spoke it in the office and none of her friends spoke Spanish, leaving her to act as translator whenever they visited a country where it was the official language. “¿Cuánto tiempo lleva antes que fuera con soltura?” she asked Jacob.

  “I was about ten before I realized I was fluent,” he answered in English.

  Ana narrowed her eyes. “Inglés o español. Es todavía asquerosamente egotista.”

  “I’m sorry if you believe I’m disgustingly egotistical, but I’ve never had any complaints.”

  “Do you mind if we change this conversation?”

  He executed a mock bow. “Of course, Princess. Your wish is my command.”

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  Jacob wanted to tell Ana that she was a modern-day princess. Not only was she born into wealth, but she’d grown up surrounded by people who took care of her every need. At twenty-five she wasn’t faced with having to repay students loans because she had her trust fund. And she’d had a plum position waiting for her when David Cole stepped down as CEO of Serenity Records. Ana probably may not have thought of herself as spoiled, but there was no doubt she was privileged.

  “I don’t want to treat you as if you are on house arrest, and that’s what you’ll be if I call you Ana. With a wig, sunglasses and as Princess we should be able to go out in public and minimize the risk of someone recognizing you.”

  Ana knew Jacob was taking precautions to keep her identity under the radar but whenever he called her Princess his voice took on a patronizing tone. And she knew he was taking a risk whenever they left his home because there was the likelihood that someone could recognize her. High-profile performers who sought anonymity resorted to all types of disguises to avoid paparazzi, and most times they were unsuccessful.

  However, she wasn’t trying to avoid paparazzi, only the person or persons who’d taken out a contract on her life. Basil Irvine. The man’s name continued to haunt her. Even if she’d only suspected Basil it was Jason who’d confirmed her fear and suspicion when he’d said, “I know that bullet was meant for you.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed, “but please don’t sound so patronizing when you say it.”

  “I could always call you baby.”

  She smiled. “That’s okay. I’ll take Princess.” Jacob calling her baby was a little too personal; it indicated they’d shared an intimacy that didn’t exist.

  Jacob led her to a bench in an area that overlooked the canal. Older couples and teenagers had come to sit, talk and watch the sunsets that appeared even more spectacular in this part of Florida. Baron lay down on the cool cobblestones and closed his eyes. Stretching out his left arm, Jacob rested it on the back of the bench, his fingers grazing Ana’s shoulder.

  “How often do you come down here?”

  He let out an inaudible sigh. “
Not often enough. This is the first time since I bought the house that I’ll spend more than a couple of days.”

  Shifting slightly on the wrought-iron bench, Ana gave him a direct stare. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

  “I go to ball games.”

  Her eyebrows lifted at this disclosure. “How many games do you go to?”

  Jacob smiled, the expression making him appear somewhat boyish. “I have season tickets for all of the Marlins, Heat and Dolphins home games.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Why is it crazy? I happen to like sports.”

  “But...but it must take quite a chunk out of your salary.”

  He chuckled. “Even though I’m a civil servant, I don’t have to concern myself with supporting a wife and kids. I don’t smoke, drink to excess, gamble or dabble in drugs, so going to a game for a couple of hours is a lot better than lying on a couch spilling my guts to a therapist.”

  “Why aren’t you married?”

  Ana’s question caught Jacob somewhat off guard, but then he quickly recovered. “I really don’t know.”

  “Are you anti-marriage?”

  Shifting on the bench, he turned to face her. “No. I suppose it’s just that I haven’t met a woman I feel I could spend the rest of my life with. When I put a ring on a woman’s finger I don’t want it to be for right now but forever, because I don’t believe in divorce. I want what my parents had before my father died.”

  Ana turned to stare at the large orange sphere sinking lower and lower in the darkening sky. Jacob didn’t believe in divorce or the death penalty. “Sometimes I think what your parents had and what my parents have doesn’t exist anymore. Nowadays people marry with the notion that if it doesn’t work out, then they’ll divorce and try it again until they feel they can get it right.”

  “Why are you so cynical, Princess?”

  “I’m cynical because I look at my friends and girls that I grew up with and most of them are divorced or on their second or third marriages.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t believe in marriage?”

  Smiling, Ana shook her head. “No. All I have to do is look at my family to know that marriage works. This is not to say there weren’t divorces before they became Coles, but once they marry a Cole it is for life. I have a cousin who lives in Chicago who married, got divorced and then remarried his wife.”

  “That just proves that they were destined to be together.”

  “I agree.”

  “Are you going to marry Sam?”

  Ana removed her glasses, staring at Jacob as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “What did you say?”

  He leaned closer. “I know you heard me, Princess.”

  “Why would I want to marry a woman? I’m not gay.”

  “Sam is a woman?”

  “Of course she’s a woman. Her name is Samantha, but everyone calls her Sam for short.” Suddenly realization dawned. “That’s what you get for eavesdropping on my conversation,” she said, accusingly. “My house, my phone and my rules,” she intoned sarcastically.

  Jacob cradled the back of her head. “Okay, Princess. You’ve got me. If you promise not to disclose where you’re staying, then I’ll allow you some privacy whenever you make a call. But, I’m going to have to know who you’re calling in advance.” He extended his right hand. “Trato.”

  Grinning, Ana took his hand. “Deal.”

  Chapter 5

  Los Angeles

  Camille parked her car in her assigned space behind her apartment building and cut off the engine. Reaching for her handbag on the console, she pushed open the driver’s side door but it wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t until she glanced up that she saw the face of a man from her past. When he realized she recognized him he stepped back and opened the door for her. She got out of the low-slung vehicle. His top lip disappeared against the ridge of his upper teeth when he flashed a feral smile.

  “How have you been, Doll Face?”

  She hated his name for her, and she’d lost count of the number of men who’d referred to her as a black Barbie doll. “What are you doing here, Fletcher?”

  Gerald Fletcher dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek. He had to admit the woman responsible for him losing his government job was as stunning as she’d been when he first saw her in the club where he’d go whenever he was off duty. Her round dark brown face with perfectly symmetrical delicate features was hypnotic. He stared at the cloud of curly reddish-brown hair framing her face before his gaze lowered to the swell of breasts under a conservative white blouse she’d paired with a black pencil skirt. They lingered briefly on the expanse of slender legs in a pair of black patent-leather pumps. She’d cleaned up well.

  “I came to see you, baby. Aren’t you glad to see me?”

  There was no way Camille was glad to see a man she’d slept with, and then robbed of his gun and wallet. It wasn’t until she was on the other side of town and went through his wallet that she realized she’d just robbed a special agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. Camille kept the cash and sold his credit cards, government-issued automatic, ID and badge to a local hustler who used the gun and credentials when he went on an extended crime spree.

  She swallowed to relieve the constriction in her throat. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark glasses, but remembered their icy blue coldness. They were dead eyes, eyes that didn’t look at you but through you. He came to the club on the days she was scheduled to work and instead of the dollar bills the club’s patrons tossed up on stage Gerald always gave her tens and twenties. After she’d begun working the champagne room he continued to pay the required fee, but also added a generous tip for her services. It had been naïveté that had permitted her to fall under his spell where she’d agreed to sleep with him. Of course she didn’t take him back to the apartment she shared with another exotic dancer after he’d given her a fistful of bills to ‘make him feel real good.’ Once she’d counted the money she knew she’d be a fool to reject his offer. They’d checked into a rundown hotel and after she gave him what she called her special lovemaking he fell asleep. It was the last time she rolled a john; she quit dancing at the club, because the word on the street was that he was looking for her. It had taken him more than a year to find her and she didn’t want to think of how he would exact revenge.

  “No, I’m not,” Camille whispered.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you. It’s taken a while to track you down,” he lied smoothly.

  “What do you want?”

  Gerald cupped her elbow. “Let’s go upstairs where we can talk in private.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  The sinister grin was back. “That’s where you’re wrong, Doll Face. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Camille tried freeing her arm, but the effort proved futile when his fingers tightened like a manacle. “I don’t dance anymore.”

  “I know that.”

  “I’m expecting company,” she said quickly, hoping to change his mind if he thought she was going to sleep with him again.

  “I know,” Gerald repeated.

  Her heart pounded so hard in her chest Camille was certain he could see it through her blouse. “You know?”

  “Yes. You’re expecting Basil Irvine. I can assure you I’ll be gone long before he gets here.”

  “How do you know he was coming here?”

  “People pay me well to know. Now, let’s go, Camille, before I’m forced to break your arm. And that will pale in comparison to what you did to me.”

  She knew she didn’t have much of a choice but to let him into her apartment. She’d thought she had left her old lifestyle behind. However, it was back in the form of Gerald Fletcher. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  Placin
g an arm around her waist, he led her to the entrance to her apartment building. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not unless you don’t do what I tell you to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Easy there, baby. I’ll tell you everything once we’re upstairs.”

  * * *

  Ana felt as if the parole board had approved her request. It’d been four days since her life had changed forever, and even though she still wasn’t free to come and go or do anything she wanted at least Jacob had relaxed the rules.

  She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. After they’d returned from their walk Jacob had asked whether she’d wanted to watch a baseball game with him, but she’d refused with the excuse that she was tired.

  It wasn’t fatigue that plagued Ana and wouldn’t permit her a restful night’s sleep. It was guilt. She’d told herself she could play in the same arena where powerful men played and negotiated multimillion-dollar deals for centuries, yet the difference was a very powerful music mogul had found himself outsmarted by a woman. Instinct told her that if Jason had been the one to woo Justin the outcome would’ve been vastly different. It would’ve resulted in one man challenging another. The better of the two would’ve been declared the winner and the loser would’ve retreated with dignity.

  Turning, she stared at the clock on the bedside table. It was nearly one in the morning and still she couldn’t sleep. Tossing back the sheet and a lightweight blanket, Ann swung her legs over the side of the bed and turned on the table lamp.

  Walking on bare feet, she walked out of the bedroom and made her way down the staircase. A cup of warm café con leche would be the perfect remedy for her restlessness. The hanging fixture, turned to the lowest setting, glowed in the hallway off the kitchen. There was another light—this one from under the range hood. She flipped a wall switch, flooding the kitchen with light.