Her Jaguar's Temptation

by Zoe Chant

  "Don't be a stranger, now," he said. "You find what you're looking for."

  This is a strange city, Mandy thought. But as strange city traditions went, at least this one seemed to have its heart in the right place.

  Nicolas came to her side as she stepped away, heading toward a table nearer to the edge of the room. She couldn't help glancing back at Paulo and Suzanne as she went, though. They exchanged some comment, and when they looked at each other, the love they shared in that look warmed Mandy's heart. That was old love, well-worn, but still with a sparkle in the eyes that suggested they weren't tired of each other.

  I wish I had someone who'd look at me that way in fifty years...

  "They're not subtle," Nicolas said, with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if they made you uncomfortable."

  "No, they were lovely," Mandy said, still watching them. "They get along much better than my parents do."

  "Ah," Nicolas said, as though she'd said something profound. "It... well, it always takes work. But for some of us, there's a powerful reason to put the work in."

  "'Us'?" Mandy asked.

  Nicolas turned to look at her, gazing deep into her eyes. But, Mandy thought, not because he was trying to suss something out, or trying to drive home a point. No, from Nicolas, it just seemed as though that was the way he looked at things.

  As though that was the way he looked... at her.

  With a shock, she recognized the look in Nicolas's eyes. It was the same look in Paulo's eyes when he'd looked at Suzanne. If, maybe, Nicolas's look was a bit more raw... it was still as intense, as real.

  Mandy's heart thumped in her chest. She didn't know what to make of any of this, but she wanted, so badly, to fall into someone else's arms. She'd spent so many years trying to fix everything because Aimée needed a mother who had it together for her, and she didn't want to overburden her own parents. She hadn't been able to lean on anyone in so long.

  Nico drew closer. "Mandy?" he asked, and she realized that her face had twisted into something almost desperate. She swallowed.

  "Do you want me here?" Mandy blurted. "Do you want me?"

  Nico's hands closed on hers, enveloping them in his warmth and strong grip. "Of course I do," he said, softly, as though there wasn't even a question. "Always."

  "Why?" Mandy asked. Why me? I'm not special, I'm not...

  Nico opened his mouth to answer, but Mandy shook her head before he could say anything.

  "No. I don't want to talk here." She might start crying in the middle of the deli, and she didn't want that. But she also didn't want to go back up to the studio, where the day had begun. She'd feel like she was going in circles. "Take me somewhere."

  There was the barest hesitation on Nico's part, and Mandy kicked herself.

  "No, you have to work, don't you, I shouldn't have asked–"

  "No, Mandy," he said, gripping her hands. "It's all right. I'll ask someone to cover. They'll understand. Give me five... give me two minutes. Two."

  Mandy nodded, and Nicolas was gone in an instant. But he hadn't even been gone for one minute before he rushed back in, taking her hands again like he couldn't bear to let them go.

  "Come on," he said. "I'm parked right outside."

  Mandy let him lead her out to a small, sleek black sedan. The car was probably eminently sensible, but something about its design suggested speed and power. Not a sports car, but it might want to be.

  Nicolas opened the passenger door for her, and she got in without thinking too hard about what she was doing. Going off in a car with a stranger? To who knew where?

  To somewhere safe, her mind answered her, though she had no logical reason to think so. Somewhere safe, where he can hold us, and things will be all right. Somewhere where I won't be alone. Where I won't just be a stranger in a city where everyone apparently knows each other.

  Maybe she believed it because she wanted so fervently to believe it.

  Or maybe you don't want to admit that you've found a good thing.

  The car smelled clean and well-kept: no dust or spilled food smell or musty age. A pressed bundle of leaves hung from the rear-view mirror, and a soft, natural, woodsy smell wafted from them. Maybe this was what Californians used instead of the chemical-scented car air fresheners. Mandy could believe that it might be a California thing. Or maybe just a Nicolas thing.

  He got in the car, and she could smell him, when he was this close. Her heart beat faster. She cast about for some appropriate topic to keep her mind from wandering from the scent of him to any other thoughts about his body.

  "Why did you come to Los Cazadores?" she asked, as he put on the turn signal and took the car into the boulevard. "Did you come to find something?"

  Nicolas glanced over at her with a sad smile. "I did," he said. "I came to find out who I was, and where I belonged."

  Mandy was startled. Nicolas seemed so self-assured, so charismatic, so confident. Not the kind of person who'd ever needed to find himself. "What do you mean?"

  "I grew up in a little town in the boring part of California," he said, with a sad, gentle humor. "My mother loved me, but she wasn't ever sure what to do with a boy like me. And my father loved me in his own way, I think, but he was always distant. He loved my mother deeply, but he was a quiet man. He never talked about how he felt. He never talked about where he came from. And he'd go on long trips, and even though he'd always come back, it felt like he was only tethered to my mother, never to me. When he'd call, he'd never ask to speak to me; he'd talk to me if my mother suggested it, but never on his own account."

  Mandy winced, thinking of Aimée's father. Aimée hadn't even had that much contact with him, and he'd never come back.

  "I started thinking, when I was in high school, that maybe he was an undocumented immigrant. He had a heavy accent, even though he never spoke Spanish at home. He wouldn't let my mother cook Mexican foods, and when I took Spanish in school, he would refuse to practice with me. I always felt like there was part of his history he was hiding from me. And that made me feel like I didn't know who I was, either, or how I'd come to be in the world."

  "I'm sorry," Mandy said.

  Nicolas reached over and took her hand for a moment, before returning his hand to the wheel. "It wasn't a terrible childhood," he said. "But I always felt that something was empty inside of me. I had a friend who told me about Los Cazadores, and how I might find a community there. So I came out here instead of going to college. I stopped in at a little taqueria run by a man named Paulo, and he took one look at me – a skinny, hungry, family-starved kid – and adopted me on the spot."

  He smiled. There was a lot of love in that smile. Nicolas was, Mandy thought, a man with a great capacity for love.

  "Hired me on as a dishwasher, and taught me how to make tortillas when I had a moment to spare. Then taught me how to make carnitas, how to grill al pastor, and then one day he took me home for a visit and taught me how to make bolillos. And those... they're just these little bread rolls, a crisp crust, all pillowy-soft inside, but I fell in love with them. I fell in love with baking. And, well, the rest is history."

  "Not quite," Mandy said.

  Nicolas glanced at her, curiously.

  Mandy watched the streets going by outside. The buildings here were mostly low-slung and homey, though the red clay tiles of their roofs gave the impression of rippling waves and the pale stucco of the walls seemed almost to glow in the morning light. Palm trees stood here and there, seeming incongruous next to deciduous trees like Mandy would expect to see back home.

  This place looked like a picture from a magazine, not the kind of place people actually lived.

  "Did you find what you were looking for?" Mandy asked.

  Nicolas was quiet for a few seconds, casting glances her way as he maneuvered the car down the sedate streets.

  "I think I'm close," he said, at last. His voice was husky. "I hope I'm close. And you?"

  Mandy's voice caught in her throat. "I... I still don't know what I'm looking
for," she said. To find out who I was and where I belonged. Maybe that was a good answer for her, as well, but it wasn't everything.

  Maybe she was looking for something she never believed she would find: someone who could see her, Mandy, for who she was; who could fall in love with her like she didn't have an entire history, like she was still at the start of her life and not seeing out the first few chapters of a daughter's. Someone who would stay with her. Someone she could trust.

  "Maybe I can help you find it," Nicolas said, softly.

  Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. The word beat along with Mandy's heartbeat. Please. Yes. She didn't know what to do with a wanting this strong. She turned her face to the window and watched the strange buildings and the palm trees go by, but her mind didn't quiet down.

  Nicolas

  Nico was vibrating in his seat the entire drive to his house. His jaguar was fully alert, pacing in the back of his mind, its tail lashing in urgency. It knew their mate was nearby, in their territory, there for the claiming.

  Wait, Nico told it, as he pulled into his driveway. Even the one word was hard to think. It will be better when she knows, when we've had a chance to talk. You'll see. Give the human side a chance...

  The air here was fragrant with herbs, growing in plant boxes lining the driveway and walkway. Nico drank in the sight of Mandy drinking in the air; this, he thought, was one more little wonder he could give her. Maybe it was nothing extraordinary, nothing all that magical, but it was one more thing that made him feel at home. This, with everything else, he was eager to give her.

  "Your home is beautiful," Mandy said, a little wistfully.

  But incomplete, Nico thought. It still needs something. I still need you.

  He led her to the door and unlocked it, and pushed it open to reveal the living room inside: the wood floor, the thick rugs, leather couch, bright skylight. He kept the place neat, but never sterile: a few magazines lay open on the coffee table, and he'd left a cookbook propped against the arm of the couch. Mandy stepped into the room like she was stepping into Wonderland, and Nico's jaguar rumbled in satisfaction.

  Almost-satisfaction. Nico let the door swing shut behind him and reached out to touch Mandy's arm, to draw her attention. "I wanted to tell you–"

  Any chance of broaching the subject was cut off when Mandy turned and pushed herself against him, going up on her toes to kiss him.

  He caught her up, hands caressing her generous curves, sliding over her hips, then her buttocks, reveling in the weight and softness of her body. Her scent filled his nose, warm and feminine.

  Blood rushed to his head, heady as wine. It rushed down between his legs, and his cock stiffened in his briefs. He wanted this woman with a fierceness that surprised even him.

  And she wanted him. She moaned against his mouth, her breath warm and wet against his.

  I want to tell you what I am! Nico thought. I want to tell you what you mean to me. But his human side and his jaguar side were both clamoring to give Mandy what she desired.

  Later. After. Mandy's hands were pulling up his shirt, and his body was rising after her. He surged forward, catching her hips and bearing her backwards to the deep leather couch, which was bathed in the sun from the skylight.

  Her hands were rushing to disrobe him, every touch of her fingers stoking the fire inside him hotter. He pulled her shirt up and off, and unclasped her bra with deft fingers, his mouth going to taste the soft skin of her nipples. She gasped and arched up into him, the soft, warm smell of her body filling his nostrils.

  Her hand found his hair, and a shiver of wild delight rushed from the crown of his head all the way down his spine. He let her ease his head downward, kissing and nuzzling at her scar, nipping at the skin by her navel, and finally, as his fingers freed her from her jeans, arriving at the gates to her body.

  She spread herself to accept him, and he moved his hands to hold her open, to admire her. Her lower lips were plump and pink, glistening with desire. The rich, living scent of her was intoxicating. He leaned down to taste her, tongue tracing the edges of her opening. She moaned, hips shimmying towards him.

  He pressed forward, tasting her deeper, smiling as he was rewarded by a rush of wetness against his tongue. Above him, her fingers tightened in his hair, then spasmed open.

  "Now," she moaned. "Now, Nico, please!"

  He didn't need encouraging. With sinuous grace he sprang up her body, covering her with his lithe form. Her legs wrapped around his hips to pull him.

  A growl rose up from deep within him, and he took her in one long stroke. He kissed her neck, her throat, the line of her jaw, lips and teeth tracking each exquisite curve as their hips rolled together, as though they were one body and shared one need. She was hot as a furnace around him, slick and tight and clenching, her body surging against him like the waves of the Pacific crashing on the shore. He could feel her need rising with his own, spiraling higher until she threw her head back and howled, something long shackled within her let free at last.

  Her orgasm tipped him over, and he thrust as his body spent itself. It felt like coming home, into her wet, eager warmth: like all the treasure in the world could melt itself and pour over their skin.

  He nestled down into the cushions, stretching himself protectively against Mandy's body. The sun coming through the skylight fell on his bare skin, lulling him into a deep ease. Mandy was here: his mate, his proud fighter, mother of a child who was surely as wonderful as she was, who had sent her here to find her own joy...

  Let me be that for you, he thought. Mandy, my Mandy. I will do anything for you.

  Mandy

  Mandy would have done anything to make those moments last forever: Nico favoring her with his tongue; Nico inside her; Nico drawing pleasure out of her body like the sun drawing up the flowers of spring. As it was, she basked in his scent and nearness, cuddling against him and hoping the real world wouldn't come knocking on the doors of her attention.

  For several long, languid minutes, it didn't. But it didn't last, or maybe she couldn't let it last.

  It felt too strange, too strange, to be lying under the skylight with her clothes off.

  Too good? she wondered. Maybe. She hadn't let herself enjoy the things she wanted to in so long. She'd always chosen to look out for Aimée, put Aimée first. Whether it was toppings on a pizza or paying for a tutor when she hadn't really had the money, she'd always put aside her own needs. Maybe now, giving in to her needs just felt wrong by default.

  She sat up and found her panties, discarded on the floor. Strangling back any noise or protest she herself might have made, she pulled them on. They stuck against her sweaty skin, and the blush in her cheeks renewed.

  Nico reached out a hand as if he was going to stop her, but settled for laying his broad palm against her arm instead. "Mandy?" he asked.

  She found her jeans, and pulled them on. She didn't want to get dressed, was the thing: she wanted to go back to Nico, to curl up against his strong chest. She could feel her own despair, and watch her hands keep moving, as though they were jailers she carried with her. And the skylight made her feel watched, exposed, judged. Like she'd done something wrong.

  Not the sex, she thought, as she pulled her bra on, then her shirt, and her feet found her shoes. The sex had been amazing. More than amazing; mind-blowing. And she was an adult; she could have sex if she wanted. Anyone who tried to shame her for that could stuff it. But something was nagging at her, and it soured the afterglow she wanted to enjoy.

  She tried to shake it off. Thought of the way he'd looked at her, the way he'd worshipped her with his body. The feeling of his skin on her skin, touching her, inside her...

  His skin.

  Oh, god. All the blood drained from her face as she realized what she'd just done. No, no, I can't have been that impulsive. She'd been so careful, the first time. Insisted on the condom. But she hadn't even thought of it this time, hadn't given herself time to ask or him time to offer...

  Calm down, she told hersel
f, but she couldn't get calm. It's just one time. I had sex with Aimée's father plenty more than once before I had her. And... I...

  All her reassurances died as soon as she thought them.

  But there was one little traitor voice in her head, whispering: Would it really be so bad to have a child with him?

  Yes, she thought, chiding herself firmly. It wasn't fair to Aimée, if she went out here and had an impulsive fling with a stranger, and changed everything. What would another child do her her life, her relationship with her daughter? What would it do to her daughter's life, her daughter's eventual family? She'd vowed never to fall into such a big decision on accident again.

  "Mandy," Nico said, coming up behind her to caress her arms.