by Box Set
During the remainder of dinner, he attempted to talk to her, veering toward safe subjects. He asked if she’d read any books, watched any movies worth mentioning, or had any hobbies. Her answers had been short, non-personal, and didn’t really continue the conversation. By the time he paid the check, he was almost relieved to leave the place. Relieved maybe, but not a single ounce of him was satisfied.
“Where did you park?” he asked, confident she wouldn’t have picked the expensive valet service.
“In the garage across the street.”
“I’ll walk you.” Later he would return and give the valet his stub and head home. What went wrong? He’d reached his goals at dinner: to explain himself and ask for her support. Then why did a side of him kept nagging, those invasive words finding a way to his brain even while they walked side by side? Crappy. Sex.
John Stone had been his mentor. His father figure for six months, and he’d taught him lessons he’d used his entire life. John had named a rule after him on his book, and did Stefano honor that rule? He had, of course. He doubted any woman who left his bed had a single complaint. Maybe they didn’t appreciate his honesty, his lack of desire to commit easily—perhaps one day—, but his sexual performance was gold.
He studied her profile. Time had been generous to her… Foxie Roxie. That’s how the boys called her, and how he viewed her. She kicked any boy’s ass at pool, and her dart game didn’t fall far behind.
She peered at him, then folded her arms over her ridiculous jacket.
“It’s an oven in here.” He pointed at the flicking lights in the ceiling. A couple cars strolled down the lower level, but other than that, there wasn’t much movement. “You should take off your jacket.”
She halted and shook her head, letting out an impatient sigh. “What’s your obsession with my outfit?”
“Are you hiding a Chihuahua in there? Or maybe a concealed weapon? The suspense is killing me.”
“So can my weapon,” she said.
For the first time since he’d seen her again, Roxie seemed a bit more relaxed. He shortened the gap between them for a closer look. A beautiful beam dented a sweet dimple on each side of her cheek. Like old times.
“I just left in a hurry, and this dress doesn’t really let me wear a bra,” she said quickly. “I didn’t want those tacky transparent straps that everybody can see.”
He gave her a slow nod, trying really hard to behave. She had on no bra. Hhhhmm… If memory served him right, her breasts were easily a DD cup. His cock strained against his jeans, as if it listened to his internal conundrum. She resumed walking and pointed at the stairs that led to the next floor.
Swallowing hard, he trailed behind her, knowing that it only took one or two powerful footfalls to catch up to her—but not wanting to. His erection didn’t budge, and he was the one sweating. She had kept on the jacket because she behaved professionally. Why couldn’t he act the same?
Because I’m not the same. That’s why he had seduced her and left. That’s why he never contacted her even after the ranch. Because he hadn’t been taught to stick around, and dwelling on it would take him nowhere.
The cement stairs were even less lit than the rest of the garage. She held onto the metal rail as she climbed each step, and he heard her panting. At last, she removed the jacket and carried it one hand. He should keep gawking at her backside like any hot-blooded guy who needed to get laid. But, he wanted more. And the strong need squashed any concerns or doubts. He caught up to her easily, and they stepped a couple times in tandem.
His heart flipped with the excitement of a kid about to ride on his first rollercoaster. When he dropped his gaze to her chest, he groaned. She was right, if she had removed the jacket he wouldn’t have been able to focus on anything. The dress had an elegant V cut, not very low, but because of her generous breasts—so confined in that snug top, he almost felt bad for them—it could bring any man to his knees.
She turned her face to the side and caught him. He couldn’t tell, but she probably found a sweaty man with his mouth open and a hard-on creepy. She stopped for a moment, and her jacket fell from her hand.
“Roxie.”
“Yes?” A whisper.
“You were right about wearing a jacket. I wouldn’t have been able to focus if you had showed up wearing just the dress.” He found himself erasing the gap between them. He wondered if she’d deny him.
Roxie’s eyes sparked with interest, and her shoulders sagged like she had just taken a load off. What went on in her head? Tension crackled in the air, and his blood thrummed in his veins.
“Maybe I should have, and I would have been able to get things my way.”
“That would have been something, Foxie Roxie.” He inched closer, and even though every cell of his body flashed warning signs, he outlined the waves of her lustrous hair.
She closed her eyes for a second and hummed, soaking in his caress. The touch took them back to a different era, when things were a lot less complicated. He drew in a lungful of her delightful scent, and angled dangerously to close to her.
She opened her eyes. “I hated that nickname,” she said softly.
“It suits you.” Pinning her with his gaze, he dipped his head. His entire body pulsated in anticipation. Awareness filled him, but if she showed him reluctance or hesitance, he would acknowledge the sign and stop.
Could they forget their past for a moment? For a night? He wasn’t sure. The only thing he knew, as he lowered his lips to cover hers, was they both needed this.
Roxie sank her fingers into his hair, pulling him close. His scalp seared in anticipation, and every piece of his hair stood on end, in full alert like the rest of his body. Damn it. He grazed her upper lip, tasting her sweet flesh, claiming her for himself.
She let out a sexy, tortured moan, encouraging him to stroke her tongue with his. Ruthlessly. He lifted her up against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Roxie squirmed, her breath labored. With one hand, he cupped the back of her neck, intensifying the kiss. Their tongues clashed and stroked, passion brewing fire between them. Moaning, she rested her hand on his chest, her fingers making a pattern over his cool shirt. Well, not so cool anymore.
What kind of guy would he be if he didn’t reciprocate? Holding under her delicious ass with one hand to keep her steady, he slid the other on the valley between her breasts. His index finger traced a path over her dress, and he reveled when her nipple tightened at his touch. His cock throbbed.
“Te deseo, Roxie.” Oh how much did he want her. “Mi sol.”
She stopped touching him, her body as stiff as a board. So, so different than her sensual warmth from a couple seconds before. “No,” she said, crushing any hope to consummate what they’d started.
And what had they started? Dio. He’d taken her out to talk about his business proposal, to atone, and then gave in to that stupid rule—and even more to the attraction simmering between them.
“You don’t have to walk me to my car.”
He ran his finger in his hair, sucking a breath. “Roxie, let’s talk.”
“We made a mistake. Do you hear me? A mistake. I can’t just make out with guys for the heck of it. Not anymore.” She stepped back, and folded her arms together. He moved to pick her jacket up off the floor, but with a hand gesture, she waved him off and grabbed it herself. “I’m not the same Roxie you remember. I have responsibilities, Stefano. I have a young son to raise and can’t afford to play any games.”
Chapter 3
“Got everyone?” Hank asked.
Roxie peered at her iPad, and checked off the passenger names. The bus had about seventy percent occupancy. Smiling, she raised her gaze and counted in her head the occupants who took selfies or played on their smartphones. Two older ladies chattered, while a Hispanic newly married couple whispered sweet nothings to each other.
One person caught her attention—way in the back whose name wasn’t on her list. A certain someone… Her pulse spiked, and she cla
sped the edges of the iPad a bit too tightly. Stefano.
For the past three days, she had heard nothing from him. She’d assumed he’d schedule a meeting with the other guides to go over things, since he seemed to be so involved in the takeover. Or perhaps he would just forget it altogether, because she had responsibilities and a child to care for. She was not the same girl he screwed all those years ago.
She didn’t need to touch her cheeks to feel the warmth. She had almost given in, which would be beyond dumb.
Stefano removed his aviator style sunglasses. She nodded at him. This is a test. He attended the tour for a reason. When she had suggested that, she had in mind a half-afternoon quick show of the city, not an all-day event. The least amount of time she spent with him, the better.
“Welcome to Miami, lucky fellas. I’m Roxie, and I’ll be your guide for the day. I know what you’re thinking… my mom loved Chicago, the Musical, right?” she asked, speaking into the microphone as the driver took off Central Station. “Wrong. I was born after the movie Roxanne came out, and that crushed my dad’s desire in naming me Jessica. So there you go.”
Several passengers chuckled, and quite a few of them grinned back at her, giving her their undivided attention. No more chatter or fumbling with their phones. Little things like this made her as happy as eating a fresh, warm load of French bread. “First, we’ll stop at the American Airlines Arena. Any Miami Heat fans in here?” she asked, and a few guys lifted their hands while others shouted the name of their favorite football team.
The script included history with a tidbits of humor she knew by heart, although this time, she had to take a deep breath every once in a while. Because this wasn’t just about Stefano being in the bus—this could be the make it or break it factor in his decision to keep or dismantle the current touring format.
She had to succeed, and show him technology couldn’t replace the friendliness of human interaction. Growing up, she didn’t have such luck with her parents, who stuck her in front of a TV every chance they got instead of taking her to the park or playing with her. It had to be different with Stefano.
Although, a naughty part of her conceded, it’s not like he didn’t know about human interactions. She reached for her reusable bottle of water.
The simple memory of the sinful make-out session with Stefano sent a tingle from her scalp all the way down her toes. Why hadn’t she pushed him away sooner?
She shook her head.
“You okay, Roxie girl?” Hank asked when they stopped the bus at their third sightseeing spot. So far, she had been careful to barely look his way, and often talk to someone else when he got off and on the bus.
She put the bottle away. “Yes, why?”
Hank smoothed his horseshoe shaped mustache. “You have a nervous energy. Is your little boy good?”
“Oh yeah. He’s home with my mom. Couldn’t be better,” she said, thinking about her darling blonde haired Adam. Thank goodness her mom retired from teaching, and didn’t mind babysitting him while Roxie worked. That lessened her guilt a bit about not being with him. Besides, her mother had insisted she got another shot at being maternal with the grandkid. Despite her mistakes as a mom, Katherine rocked as grandmother. Her dad also treasured teaching Adam how to throw a ball and all that macho stuff. “I’m just a bit antsy I guess. Some personal stuff.”
She glanced at her watch. Time to call people back. From afar, she watched Stefano. When most of the tourists took pictures and bought souvenirs at the Perez Museum, he’d been on his phone.
She fiddled with the collar of her shirt. Maybe the uniform was something the new management could change—a modification she would not complain about. . She got off the bus and greeted the passengers, who embarked one by one, carrying their souvenir bags and phones probably loaded with pictures.
She helped an older gentleman get on, and slid her finger on her list on the iPad when she heard something.
“Wait for me.” Stefano lowered his sleek sunglasses. “I heard the new boss doesn’t like to be left behind.” Was he referring to when she interrupted the kiss and walked away from him? What did he expect? A quickie in the public garage? Her blood heated to a low simmer.
“Yeah well I have some dirt on the new boss too,” she said, in a voice low enough for him to hear. The passengers were still settling in their seats and exchanging some inside jokes between one another.
Stefano’s lips curled into the corner of his lips. Shamelessly. “Listen, I’m sorry. I took you out to propose a peace treaty and ended up making things more awkward.”
“I agree with you there.”
“Let’s have lunch together,” he said, and the contours of his face sobered.
She assumed he already knew lunch would be in the next stop. The passengers would have one hour to go eat. Her turkey and cheese sandwich sat inside her backpack.
“Why? We just had dinner a few days ago and look where that led us.” Me scavenger hunting my closet for a vibrator Carrie gave me as a gag gift two Christmases ago. Where was the damn thing anyway? Lost and full of dust, she bet.
“There will be people around. Broad daylight. I need to talk about a few things with you. I won’t be able to stay for the remainder of the tour.”
A thread of disappointment wove through her. Why, though? He’d witnessed her work for four hours already. What else did he need? To be with her while she dropped every single passenger at their hotel? Her shoulders started to sag, but she straightened them immediately.
“Okay. But I actually have less than the hour because I need to come back earlier and gather everyone, etc.”
“Sounds good. I’ll take it.”
No kidding. You’re good at that. The sassy retort teased the bit of her tongue, but she just shook her head and gestured for him to join the others. “Fine,” she said under her breath.
Roxie went through the motions until lunchtime. When he joined her after she finished helping the last passenger, she felt a bubble of awareness even before he came close enough. I’m pathetic. Ever since her divorce she’d focused on her son. Sure, she dated a few guys in the past three years, but none of them knotted her insides like Stefano Mercado did.
That’s because he has the power of firing me. He wouldn’t though, would he? Maybe she was being too hard on him. Maybe I shouldn’t let my pride do the talking.
“This way.” He led her to the restaurant. She had told Hank she’d have a working lunch, and she’d given him her sandwich. Even though his wife fixed him a hearty lunchbox everyday, he had been grateful. Could she blame him? Nah. Food rocked.
When Stefano greeted the hostess at the exclusive restaurant, Roxie reached for her pony tail, and smoothed the stray pieces of her hair back into place. She wasn’t dressed to eat there, and the hostess made sure she knew it, with a slight frown when she glanced down at her, followed by a sigh.
“This is a bit too much for a working lunch,” she said, when they sat across from each other and she picked up the menu.
He winked. “It’s not the same as those sandwiches your mom made, is it?”
She chuckled. “You know, you used to beg me for those chicken salad sandwiches,” she said, remembering how Stefano was always hungry.
He watched her in silence, and for a moment, she saw that gleam in his eyes, from years ago. Without words, they were transported back to the time when they teased each other over little things, and those walks from school to their middle class neighborhood was the best part of her day. Spending time with him spared her from listening to her mother’s constant complaints about her father’s demanding job as an ER nurse. “And now I’m returning the favor by feeding you.”
“I guess the Universe works in mysterious ways.”
He leaned back in his chair. “It always does, Roxie. So I’ve been watching you… I totally understand why the passengers are so drawn to you.”
Roxie pretended to read the menu. “Thanks, I guess. I’m glad you see my point.” She sat the menu to the si
de. “Nothing beats human interaction.”
He glanced at her, as if he took those words way too literally. Gold flecks sparked around his irises, and he stared at her with such boldness—without blinking or making small talk and her instinct screamed at her to run from him like he was the Big Bad Wolf and she was Red Riding Hood. Or maybe she read too many good-night stories to even know how to react in any given adult social setting.
She cleared her raw throat. Goosebumps stood on her arms. The waiter came with their orders, and she took a bite or two of her salad.
“I know you excel at touring. But don’t forget, not all guides are you. They don’t all have your amazing people skills.”
“They don’t have to be like me. Each one of them has their own unique traits.”
“Yes, that’s good, but not all of them are bringing return customers or enough good feedback. So rather than investing in something that’s not working, we’re hoping this new technology will keep us ahead of the game.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “You seem to be very hands-on. Why?”
“Because if this takeover is successful, I intend to turn this company into a brand, and expand it to other major cities. I already succeeded at the virtual wholesale business, and virtual tours will be a great addition. A natural win-win,” he said, and cut into his juicy steak.
Of course Stefano had grand plans. He wasn’t just changing things from the ground up because he wanted to stick around. This was his guinea pig for a new market. He’d target new places and move away from Floridian Tours. Away from her. She reached for the glass of water and took a big gulp. “A win-win for you.”
“And for those who work with me.”
“If you really saw what I did, you must have seen how I helped the older gentleman to get into and out of the bus. And someone asked me where to get coupons to the outlet malls. And that teenager girl asked me to take a picture of her with her group. How can your precious headset perform all these tasks?”
“A compact, automated station in each bus will help them with questions. And the driver can assist people in and out of the bus.”