Inner Diva

by Laurie Larsen

  “Do you know her?” Monica asked softly, and he nodded.

  The woman swaggered to their table, her hips shimmying. Monica wondered how she could balance on pencil-thin stiletto heels. “Carlos,” the woman purred through a big-toothed smile. “Como estas?”

  “Gloria.” He stayed seated, his gaze containing a touch of coolness.

  “Haven’t seen you in awhile.” Her eyes locked with his and Monica was quite sure she hadn’t noticed Carlos had a dining companion. Or cared.

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Carlos scooted his chair an inch or two in Monica’s direction, then casually took her hand in his.

  The move was not missed by Gloria, who suddenly looked down her nose at Monica and frowned. “Hello,” she said, the ice in her voice giving Monica a shiver.

  “Hi.”

  The woman’s gaze slid over to Carlos and her mouth returned to a smile, although now it seemed forced. “So, whatcha been up to?”

  “Working.” He turned his head slowly to face Monica and said his next words in a sexy drawl. “And other things.” With that, he tugged on Monica’s hand and rested it on his chest while he landed his lips behind her ear, on the edge of her hairline. He may have whispered something, Monica was unsure; she was so intent on enjoying the shuddering warmth he unleashed in her.

  If this man could make her shiver with desire just by putting his lips behind her ear, what could he accomplish if he put his lips elsewhere?

  She let her head fall back and he took the opportunity to move his kisses to her neck. She gasped and giggled, unaware of anything around her for the moment, other than Carlos.

  Until she heard an exasperated huff and looked up at Gloria. The woman glared, her lips puckered and arms crossed. She focused on Carlos. “All right, Carlos. I get it.” She twirled and marched away, her hair bouncing around her shoulders.

  Through her margarita-induced fog, Monica recognized what had just happened. This Gloria had a thing for Carlos and he chased her away by making the moves on Monica. When had that ever happened to her before? Never, that’s when. It made her feel strangely … desirable.

  “Was she …?”

  “An ex who needed to get the message.” He scraped his chair away to give them a little more space, holding tight to her hand. “I’m sorry about that, carina. I had no idea she’d be here. I hope she didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

  Monica shook her head. She hadn’t minded. In fact, she was flattered. Imagine, a guy using Monica to make another girl jealous. That was a role she’d never played in her life.

  Several hours later, Monica was having a marvelous time. A mariachi band in the corner dispensed brass rat-a-tat-tat notes into the air. The music pounded her eardrums, so loud that normal conversation was impossible. Carlos held out his hand. “Want to dance?”

  “To this?” Monica shouted.

  He nodded, a grin lighting his face. They rose and he guided her elbow as they walked to an empty spot on the floor.

  She tried, she really did. But the combination of tequila and unfamiliar music made it difficult to move her body in any sort of graceful rhythm. Carlos’ laugh tickled her ear and more than once he steadied her when she lost her balance.

  Carlos danced well, however. She watched while his hips ground in a tight circle in time to the brass music. He twirled her across the floor with a strong hand and she put herself entirely in his control. He guided her in the movements she needed to make to complement his own. The band members shouted their encouragement over the microphone and the music took up a permanent “pound-pound-pound” in her ears. She tripped over her foot and stumbled. Carlos’s steady arm came around her waist and supported her.

  “Carina, I better get you home. I think you’ve had enough.”

  She practically floated to Carlos’ car. On their way across town, Monica’s soused imagination raced to all kinds of possibilities of what came next. On dates with other women she was quite sure what would come next for Carlos. A special dance between a man and a woman, performed not on a tile floor, but between satin sheets.

  Carlos darted a startled glance in her direction. “Are you all right?”

  Monica looked at him, curious. “Huh?”

  “You just let out the most devious giggle I’ve ever heard.”

  Oh, my. She never could hold her liquor. She’d better get control of herself or she’d be spouting out every thought in her head. And that was not advisable, considering all she could think about was him. She settled back into the seat, concentrating on the road ahead.

  “So what was your favorite dish?”

  “The tamales,” she answered, throwing out the first food word that came to mind. “How about yours?”

  As he answered, she watched him grip the wheel and her errant imagination drifted to how those hands could pleasure her, make her body writhe and experience feelings she’d never had before. Sure, it wasn’t in her normal repertoire, but it was a special night. Why couldn’t she allow herself one really fabulous night of passion for once in her dull, conservative life? A hot tremor skittered through her.

  Carlos moved his hand to her leg, just above her knee. His touch burned her, even through the fabric of her pants. Imagine what he could do with bare skin.

  When they reached her front steps, he captured her hand. “I had a really good time tonight. Thanks for going out with me.”

  As she gazed up at him, she knew she would never have her one scandalous night with this beautiful Adonis unless she let him know she wanted one. Why not throw caution to the wind? She stepped closer to him. “Would you like to come in? I have a bottle of wine we could share.”

  “No, that’s okay. I think we’ve both had enough alcohol for one night.”

  “Or coffee. I could make coffee if you don’t want wine.”

  He smiled and shook his head. Monica felt a churn of irritation. His rejection was getting in the way of her spur of the moment plans.

  Carlos leaned down and brushed his lips on hers, a soft caress that grew into an urgent lip lock. She breathed in his scent and tasted the remnants of margaritas and spices. She brushed his hair back from his face and rested her fingers on his cheek. His closeness left her heart pounding, her groin tingling and her knees feeling like they could give out at any moment.

  “Carina.” He tugged at her chin, forcing her to look up and meet his eyes. “I’d like to come in.”

  She frowned. “But you said, …”

  He released a quick breath and moved his hands to her shoulders, rubbing them gently. “Believe me, I’d like to spend more time with you tonight. Let things develop, see what happens.” His voice had deepened to a breathtaking whisper for her ears only on her step in the coolness of the night.

  She blushed, understanding. And realizing full well there was nothing she’d like more, either.

  “But what’s the rush? Let’s take this slow.” His hand traveled from her shoulder to her neck, then slid under her hair, cupping her head. “Do it right.”

  She nodded. She knew he’d done it enough to know how to do it right. And to show her, too. “Okay,” she said, trying to listen to his words.

  “So, when can I see you again?”

  Her eyes opened a little wider. “Again?” Maybe when he was talking about going slow and doing it right, he wasn’t referring to … what she thought he’d been referring to.

  “Would you like to go out again?” He gazed at her patiently and her heart melted.

  “I’d love to.” Even though there were a million reasons not to, he was hot and gorgeous, and she had more than a passing attraction to him. She knew she’d be in way over her head going out with a guy like him, because he came from a different world. “I’m available Wednesday night, I believe.”

  He smiled and leaned in to kiss her again, this time a soft, lingering connection that caused her heart to skip a beat or two. “Wednesday it is. I’ll call you.”

  Carlos drove, his grip on the wheel, his mind on Monica. The more ti
me he spent with her, the more he realized there was no comparison between Monica and Angela. Sure, on the surface, they were similar. They both were smart women who had promising careers and lots of options. But tonight, he saw Monica’s fun-loving side, first-hand. She could relax and have fun. She was not all business 100% of the time.

  Monica also had a humble side. She seemed downright insecure at times, although he had no idea why. With all the accomplishments she had under her belt, she should know that whatever she attempted, she would succeed. Yet, she seemed to need reassurance. Another way she was opposite of Angela.

  Running into his old flame, Gloria, was like shining a spotlight on the differences between Monica and the type of women he dated prior to falling in love with Angela. Gloria was his typical pre-Angela type – flashy, sexy, sassy. Monica was far from it. Sure, Monica was beautiful in her own way. In a way that wasn’t quite as apparent to everyone, like with a Gloria.

  Monica’s beauty was like a treasure hunt, only granted as a reward to those few special hunters who were patient and diligent enough to find the prize. Her chestnut hair, her slight figure, her brown eyes and her lips – just a little too big for her face. She didn’t wear clothes to flaunt her shape, but she could. The fact she didn’t proved she wasn’t interested in attracting the masses.

  Which is why her invitation at her doorway surprised him. He’d admired her all evening. The way she conducted herself proved what he already suspected – she was a classy lady. The last thing he wanted to do was blow his chance at a real relationship with her by having a meaningless one-night stand. As difficult as it had been to turn down what she offered him, he suspected it was the alcohol that was behind it. Monica would regret it in the morning, he was sure of that.

  He pulled to the curb in front of the house he shared with Mama and Luisa, jumped out and headed toward the door. The fact that he wanted a relationship with Monica at all, after the heart break left by Angela, surprised him. It wasn’t easy sex he wanted with Monica, but something more lasting.

  He tossed his keys up and caught them in his other hand. He was in for a very interesting ride, he could tell.

  Chapter Six

  At work, Monica discovered that her fumblings with the botched advertising presentation hadn’t cost the theater the funding from the Board. After some deliberation, the Chairman called Monica and told her the Board had voted and approved the funding. They wanted Monica to lead the campaign team. In fact, anything she needed, she would be granted to help her be successful. Evidently, her reputation had not been trampled after all.

  After a moment of shock, Monica gratefully accepted the challenge. She spent the rest of the morning calling the volunteers and asking for their commitment to bring the advertising to fruition. She scheduled their first meeting for five o’clock to discuss their goals and brainstorm.

  At lunch time, butterflies churned in her stomach and a rather insane idea popped into her head. She straightened her desk, flipped off her light and headed out to her car. Refusing to quash her spontaneity, she headed to the deli and ordered two club sandwiches, two bags of chips and two bottles of iced tea.

  The mechanic shop sat on a corner with a tiny parking lot, jam-packed with cars. Painful dents and gashes provided a hint to what some of these vehicles had been through. Monica shivered and sat in her own car, uncertain now if she should leave its safe environs. The neighboring buildings groaned with neglect and the shop looked a little dark, despite its lights being on. Monica pulled into an open parking spot across the street and sat, watching the building.

  Taking a deep breath, Monica pushed past her apprehension. She’d come to surprise Carlos, and surprise him she would. She cradled her bag of food in her arms and pushed herself out of the car, locking it.

  She trotted across the street, avoiding a mud puddle, remnants of a recent rain. She pushed through the front door and let her eyes adjust to the interior. She breathed in and the scent of oil and grease assaulted her nostrils. No one occupied the front desk and she stood there a moment, uncertain how to announce her arrival. She moved closer to the front counter and peeked behind it, through a narrow doorway. Several men worked on engines in the next room.

  This was Carlos’ world. He came here every day and made his living. She craned her neck, trying to locate him in the room beyond, but the doorway’s width didn’t allow it.

  She cleared her throat, trying to capture the attention of a man in the back room. His head and shoulders leaned into an engine and all she could see was the bottom half of him sticking out. He didn’t hear her.

  She glanced around and saw a little silver bell on the desk. She rang it. One ring wasn’t enough so she rang it again, and finally the mechanic with his head in the engine pulled out, looked over to where she stood and waved. She let her lips curl into a closed-mouth smile.

  He headed over, grabbing a rag and rubbing his hands on it. “Here to pick up your car?”

  “No. No, I’m not. Uh, I’m here to see someone.” Here to see someone? She made it sound like it was visiting hours at the hospital.

  “Who?” Lines formed between his eyebrows, his confusion showing on his face.

  She cleared her throat, the bag of food becoming heavy in her arms. “Carlos Garcia?” She peeked through the doorway again, but couldn’t see him.

  “You’re here to see Carlos?” He must have felt the need to clarify, even though she’d told him that very thing, quite clearly. Maybe he was having a hard time believing her.

  She nodded, and before he turned away she saw a faint grin. He went through the doorway, his shoulders maneuvering through it with a slight twist. She heard his voice with a trace of humor, “Carlos, you have a visitor. Ding, ding!”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. He was teasing Carlos for having a visitor. A female visitor. Her. What had she done? She’d shown up here on an impulse. Would Carlos be angry? Embarrassed?

  Or, quite possibly, she wasn’t Carlos’ first female visitor.

  She stood her ground and soon, he appeared through the doorway, his broad form shrinking it even more. He wore a button down shirt of a thick, dark gray fabric, his name on a tag sewed to his chest, tucked into jeans. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, and all she could manage was a little smile as he came around the counter to greet her.

  His grin was so genuine, she had no doubt he was glad to see her. “Hi.”

  At his one syllable, spoken in a rumbling, breathy tone, a spurt of desire dove inside her. Her face suddenly warm, she hoped he couldn’t read what effect he had on her.

  It was amazing what this man did to her.

  She held up the bag. “I brought lunch. Can you take a break?”

  His smile reminded her of a sunrise brightening a dark sky. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, and she breathed in the manly scent of him – a mixture of car engine smells, musk and soap.

  “This is so nice of you. Just give me a minute and I’ll wash up.”

  He left and returned moments later, his hands smelling of disinfectant. She looked around. “Do you have a break room with a table?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not too cold today. How do you feel about sitting outside?”

  You’re gonna have to keep me warm, big guy. And I can think of a number of ways you can do it.

  “Fine!” she said, a little too quickly.

  Out back, they sat at a picnic table. She unloaded the food and offered him the sandwich, chips and tea. He dug in with a flourish.

  “This is a surprise. Thank you.”

  She wiped the side of her mouth with a napkin. “I’m sort of celebrating.”

  He stopped eating and looked up. “And what are we celebrating?”

  She smiled. “The Board approved the funding for the advertising. We’re going to do television, print, billboards, radio – you name it. There won’t be a single person in St. Louis who hasn’t heard of our theater.”

  He let his sandwich drop into its wrapper and r
eached over, taking her hands in his. His smile made his cocoa eyes crinkle at the sides and she beamed at him. He knew what this meant to her, and he looked just as pleased as she was. “Congratulations. See? Your presentation must not have been as bad as you thought.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m sure it was. But for some reason, they decided to go with it anyway.”

  “For some reason, huh? How about because your ideas for their campaign were creative and brilliant, despite the fact you dropped your computer?”

  “You think so?” Her head was spinning. She shook off her excitement and forced herself to take a bite of her sandwich, although she’d forgotten about her appetite. “Oh, and I’m the team lead.”

  He looked at her with eyebrows raised. “Congratulations again. You’ll be a great team lead.” He sounded so sure.

  “Why do you say that?” She picked up her bottle of tea.

  “Because you’re great with people. You’re creative. And you know what you’re doing.” He finished his sandwich with one last bite, and turned to his bag of chips. No appetite loss there.

  She shook her head. “You make me sound so competent. But I have a hard time relating those traits to … me.”

  He ripped the bag open, then went motionless as he stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  She shifted on the wooden bench. “I’m not any of those things. I mean, I get along with people, but that doesn’t make me a good leader. Leaders have to be decisive, influential, motivational. I’m none of those things.” She took a sip of her drink. “And creative? I suppose I have a bunch of ideas, but I never know which ones are good, and which ones are crap, until someone tells me.”

  He laid his hand over hers on the rough wood surface. “You can do anything you put your mind to. I can see that. I only wonder why you don’t.”