Mendoza's Miracle

by Judy Duarte

  Okay, so he was still technically under the care of San Antonio General as an outpatient at the attached rehab facility. But she could easily argue that it wasn’t the same thing. And that it wouldn’t be a violation of any kind.

  Next she’d worried about him being a player, a perpetual bachelor who had no plans to ever get married or to settle down. But she now had evidence to dispute that belief, too.

  Either way, she’d come to the conclusion that her feelings for Javier had grown too strong to fight. And that she’d already lost the battle.

  By the time they reached her front door, her heart soared with anticipation.

  Yet she couldn’t help noting that Javier had been walking slower than before.

  Was he reluctant to say goodbye to her and end their night together?

  Or had he pushed himself too hard and grown tired at the party?

  As she reached for her key, she asked, “Would you like to come in? I can make us some tea or coffee. I also have some soft drinks and a bottle of wine.”

  “Decaf sounds good if you have it.”

  “I do.” She let him inside, then closed the door and turned on the light. Everything was just as she’d left it. Even Miss Kitty was still snoozing on the blue chintz love seat, her favorite resting spot.

  The cat looked up, but only for a moment. Apparently the old gray tabby didn’t care that Leah had brought home a guest. But then again, at her age, she didn’t worry much as long as she had a little peace and quiet.

  “Why don’t you have a seat while I brew a pot of decaf,” Leah said.

  “All right.”

  She left Javier in the living room, then made her way to the kitchen, where she filled the carafe with water. As she shut off the faucet, she heard music playing—something soft, slow and seductive.

  Was he trying to set up a romantic ambiance while they ended their evening together? A part of her hoped that he was. But she doubted that was the case.

  Javier had to be exhausted. And since he’d told her that music relaxed him, he was probably trying to unwind after an afternoon at rehab and an evening spent at his brother’s open house.

  Yet as Leah finished placing the coffee grounds into the filter-lined basket and turned on the power to start the brewing process, she couldn’t help wondering what awaited her in the other part of the house—even if it was just a tall, dark and handsome man stretched out on her sofa.

  While the water gurgled and dribbled into the pot, she returned to the living room, only to find Javier seated on her love seat next to Miss Kitty. He stroked the cat, who seemed rather indifferent about having company. But at least she wasn’t hissing at him.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I put on some music,” he said. “It was pretty quiet in here, and your cat wasn’t much company.”

  She smiled. “That’s not surprising. Miss Kitty is nearly nineteen years old, so she’s content to sleep most of the day and night. And no, I don’t mind the music at all.”

  Still, she wasn’t sure what had compelled him to choose that particular radio station. Did it have anything to do with the romantic ballad that was playing?

  She listened to the lyrics for a moment, as well as the sound of a lonely fiddle, then said, “I like this song.”

  “I do, too. Why don’t we dance to it?”

  His question came as a complete surprise, and while she thought it was a nice idea, he had to be worn out from the day’s activities.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked. “Are you really up to it?”

  “Probably not.” He tossed her a boyish grin as he slowly got to his feet, biting back a grimace. “But the way I see it, if I drop in my tracks, I’m with the right person. You’ll know just what to do.”

  He took a step away from the sofa, letting the cane lean against the armrest. Then he held out his arms in an invitation to give it a whirl.

  “This probably isn’t a very good idea,” Leah said, mindful of the severity of his injuries, of the long road he had to full recovery. Yet she still made her way toward him.

  “No need to worry about me,” he said. “I have it all figured out.”

  She couldn’t see any reason to argue or to point out his weakness, so she stepped into his embrace, leaned her body into his and offered her support.

  The woodsy scent of his cologne mingled with the pheromones overhead, creating an arousing spell that was too strong to resist. So she placed her cheek against his chest, relishing the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart.

  Did he feel it, too—the sexual thrill, the rush of desire, the longing for more than an embrace?

  They swayed to the music, although they didn’t actually dance. Yet that didn’t matter. All Leah wanted to do was to hold Javier close for as long as she had the chance.

  When the song ended, he continued to sway on his feet, then dipped slightly. She held him tight, determined to support him, to keep him steady and upright.

  Was he in pain? Was his strength giving out?

  Or had a stumble been part of a plan to gain her sympathy, to weaken her defenses, to get her into bed?

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. Enough of that already. Not every handsome, eligible bachelor was a playboy whose only goal was to score.

  Leah took a step back, intending to retrieve Javier’s cane so he could support himself better, so he could make his way back to the love seat. But before she could turn away, he caught her chin with his finger, then tilted her face upward.

  She saw the kiss coming in his eyes, felt it in the pounding of her heart. As their mouths met, their lips parted and the kiss deepened, just as though their bodies knew right where they’d left off. Only this time, the intimacy of it all intensified as their hands explored, stroked and caressed until Leah could scarcely breathe.

  When Javier’s hand reached her breast, when he palmed the soft mound, he skimmed his thumb across her nipple—once, twice, a third time.

  Her breath caught and her senses spun out of control.

  The man was a master when it came to romance—the absolute best. And while she knew she ought to be leery of him, her desire and curiosity mounted until she wanted nothing more than to learn what she was going to experience in his arms next.

  Kissing Javier suddenly seemed to be the best decision she’d ever made—or not made, since her brain was no longer in charge of her actions.

  As he worked his magic with his hands, his mouth and tongue, an ache settled low in her core, reminding her of just how long it had been since she’d had sex, how empty she’d become. And that sweet ache merely grew until her head swam and her knees threatened to buckle.

  But no way could she allow herself to become unsteady on her feet. If that happened, she might not be able to keep Javier from falling if the need arose.

  So she drew her lips from his, knowing she was doing the best and wisest thing, even though every cell in her body screamed out in complaint.

  “I need to get off my feet,” she said, rather than admit that her real concern was for him. Javier, like most men, probably wouldn’t like having his weakness pointed out.

  “Do you want to take a seat?” he asked. “Or maybe…lie down?”

  Javier clearly knew how to wine and dine and charm a woman into bed. Yet Leah would throw caution aside and listen to her hormones—just this once.

  “The sofa could get awkward,” she said. “Maybe we should go into my room and stretch out on the bed.”

  When Javier didn’t answer right away, she feared she’d gotten the wrong message.

  Had she misunderstood his intentions?

  Javier could hardly believe what Leah had just agreed to, and while he ought to backpedal on the whole let’s-take-this-to-the-bedroom thing, it was too late to do that now. E
verything he needed to make love—his libido, his hormones, his erection—had escaped injury in the tornado. So he was primed and ready for love.

  “Lying down sounds like a good idea to me,” he said.

  As Leah stooped to reach for the discarded cane, a kindness on her part that reminded Javier that she was well aware of his physical shortcomings, his gut clenched.

  He remembered the decision he’d made to maintain a platonic relationship with her until he’d fully recovered. But what was he supposed to do? Turn around and limp away?

  Let her see how far he still had to go before making a full recovery?

  But he had one thing going for him—his skill as a lover. And that was something the tornado hadn’t stolen from him.

  After that last kiss he and Leah had shared, after those amazing moments of foreplay, he was willing to change his game plan at this point. After all, the rest of his body might be struggling to walk without the aid of a cane, but there were certain parts of him that worked just fine—especially if he would be lying down.

  He might not be able to make her any promises about the future, but there was one thing he knew for sure. He was going to do everything in his power to make things good for her tonight. And, if all went as he hoped they would, he would take her to a sexual place no other man had ever taken her before.

  As Leah led Javier to the bedroom, he followed her, convinced he was doing the right thing. And thanking his lucky stars that he’d been in the habit of carrying a condom with him.

  Once they reached her bed, he kissed her again. Then after he kicked off his loafers, he looked to her for either approval or objection.

  Damn. Where had the doubt come from?

  But it didn’t last long. As she slipped out of her heels, he knew they were on the same page.

  He took off his black sports coat and, after removing the condom he kept in the inside pocket, he draped the jacket over the bedpost. Then he left the foil packet on the nightstand.

  The seconds ticked slowly as they continued to undress, one garment at a time.

  She lifted the hem of her top, then pulled it over her head and let it drop to the floor.

  He unbuttoned his shirt, then moved on to the cuffs. All the while, sometimes out of the corner of his eye and at others straight on, he watched every seductive movement she made, following her step by step.

  She undid the button on her slacks, then tugged down the zipper. When she was done, she peeled the black fabric over her hips, then wiggled out of them.

  He removed his pants as well.

  All the while their eyes remained on each other, watching, gazing with both longing and appreciation.

  When they’d finally discarded their clothing and stood before each other naked, her pure beauty struck him hard and low.

  “I had no idea how beautiful you really are.”

  She thanked him as if she didn’t quite believe him but was too polite to argue. He was going to have to do something about that. And the first step was to take her in his arms again, to let her feel his skin on hers. As her breasts pressed against his chest, he kissed her like there was no tomorrow.

  Sure, they’d have to face the consequences of their actions after the night was over, but he wasn’t going to think about any of that now.

  His hands slid along the curve of her back, then down the slopes of her hips. As he drew her close, a surge of desire shot right through him.

  When he doubted that his once-broken legs could hold out much longer, he ended the kiss, nodded toward the bed and said, “After you.”

  She drew back the covers, then climbed onto the mattress. As much as he wanted to join her, he couldn’t help taking in the sight of her as she lay naked and lovely.

  Her legs were long and shapely, her breasts full, her nipples peaked. Her eyes watching him with as much appreciation as he watched her.

  They’d kissed off the last of her lipstick, leaving her lips red and plump. And with her head on the pillows, those long, glossy strands of auburn hair were splayed against the white cotton pillowcase—just as he’d imagined so many times before.

  Unable to hold off a moment longer, he slid into bed beside her. And as they lay together, he kissed her again—this time with all the hunger, all the passion rushing through his veins.

  She whimpered, then arched forward, revealing her own need, her own arousal.

  As she skimmed her nails across his chest, sending a shiver through him and a surge of heat zipping through his veins, he knew he couldn’t prolong their first joining indefinitely.

  But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take the time to kiss her breasts until she was begging to have him fill her to the brim.

  So he leaned over her and took the first dusky pink tip into his mouth.

  Leah gasped in pleasure, yet Javier continued to taunt her, to make her yearn for more. Then he turned his attention to the other side until she gripped his arms, making crescent dents into his skin with her nails.

  “I’m not sure how much more of this I can take,” she said. “I need you inside me or I’m going to scream.”

  A smile stretched across his face. “When that happens, you just might cry out in pleasure anyway.”

  Her smile turned sultry, then she reached for the condom on the nightstand and tore into it. When she’d helped him roll it in place, he turned to the side and hovered over her.

  At this very moment in time, there was no place else he longed to be, no one else he wanted to be with. And he was sorely tempted to tell her so.

  While the unspoken words stalled in his throat, words he’d never uttered to another woman in his life, he did his best to choke them back. It was too soon to utter promises he wasn’t quite ready to make.

  But one thing was certain. Javier belonged to Leah—at least for tonight.

  As she opened for him, he entered her slowly, deliberately, relishing the experience of two lovers becoming one for the first time.

  And as her body responded to his, as she arched up to meet each of his thrusts, he couldn’t recall anyone else ever taking him to such a soaring height.

  Hell, he couldn’t even remember any other lover’s name. And for some reason, he doubted that he ever would again.

  When he reached a peak, she arched up, dug her nails into his back and cried out with her climax, setting off one of his own.

  They came together, as a blast of colors burst somewhere in his mind, and he held her tight until the last sexual wave eased.

  He wanted to speak, to again tell her how beautiful she was, how good they were together, how much he…

  Damn. It was way, way too early to mutter emotions best left alone until he was back to normal, until he had a chance to determine if they were really true, if what he felt right this moment might actually last.

  But double damn. Making love with Leah had been awesome, amazing and…unreal.

  Javier might not be anywhere near one hundred percent physically, but tell that to his libido, which still worked like a charm. Tonight he’d been on top of his sexual game.

  Still, he had no idea where the relationship would go from here.

  As it was, he’d sleep on it until dawn’s first light. Maybe then he’d have an idea about what he wanted to do about this.

  He’d always considered himself doing a solo gig in life, and up until now, it had worked out just fine. And while the injuries he’d suffered in the tornado had set him back for months, they’d also opened his eyes to a lot of things.

  For the first time in his life, he could imagine himself settling down and having a family. But not now. Not until he was back on his feet without the aid of a cane. Not until he’d gone back to work at the office and had a couple of deals cooking.

  Not until he could
shoot par at the Red Rock Country Club again.

  Not until he knew he was number one.

  Sure, he knew he could spill his guts, share his fears about all of that with Leah and he knew she’d tell him that she liked him just the way he was.

  But Javier didn’t like himself. And he wasn’t going to let an awesome night of lovemaking convince him that he’d be number one again at everything he tackled.

  So instead of saying anything at all to Leah and tipping his hand, he held her close, afraid to let her go.

  Or to face whatever reality the morning brought.

  Chapter Eleven

  The rising sun peered through the spaces in the shutter slats and cast dawn’s muted light in Leah’s room, where she lay in bed, more asleep than awake.

  She’d just spent the most incredible night of her life with Javier, who’d proven to be an amazing lover, even better than in her dreams. And she looked forward to what the new day would bring.

  So she reached for him, hoping to stroke his arm and whisper good morning. But the only thing she touched was the cool expanse of mattress and a rumpled sheet.

  At first she thought that he was in the bathroom, but she didn’t hear any water running.

  Where was he?

  Surely he hadn’t slipped away in the middle of the night. She sat up in bed, scanned the faintly lit room and spotted her discarded clothes lying in a pile on the floor.

  But Javier’s weren’t anywhere to be seen.

  Her heart dropped to her stomach with a cold, hard thump—until she took a whiff and caught the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee.

  Was he fixing breakfast for her?

  She ought to be the one in the kitchen, cooking for him—not the other way around. He was her guest, and an injured one at that. So she threw off the covers, climbed from the bed and removed her pink chenille robe from the closet. Then she padded into the kitchen where, sure enough, he stood near the stove, his cane leaning against the counter, his jacket hung over the back of a chair.

  His hair was damp and stylishly mussed as he lifted the lid of the frying pan and peered into whatever he had cooking in it.