Salsa Nights

by Salsa Nights (lit)

  She had also been cursed with large breasts. She wore large shirts to work and only took them off on days she exerted herself and became too hot. Guys talked at her, not to her, about themselves.

  Her father had ignored her most of her life. It was probably the reason she absorbed herself in dancing as a child and now in her work. But no matter how hard she worked, how many ribbons or trophies she accumulated, most times he hadn’t sat in the audience alongside her mother.

  And although they’d died seven years ago, she still busted her ass at her dance studio. She couldn’t try to impress her father anymore, and men weren’t interested in her intelligence, hard work, or success, but she loved to dance.

  It had been easy to ignore most sexual urges as busy as she was with her students, especially now, getting them in top shape for the upcoming meets. But ignore the way Brad and Dale made her feel tonight? She was already doubting her earlier convictions, and she hadn’t even stepped foot in their house.

  Which was where Dale had finally arrived. It was the same beautiful home she remembered watching as a kid—well, at least the two hunks residing there. It was a magnificent two story Mediterranean house with a stunning Atlantic Ocean view and private beach.

  While her grandfather’s house had been beautiful, she’d always loved this house. From the red-tiled roof with matching red steps that led to towering front doors, the white walls, elegant arches, tall palm trees in the front, to the gorgeous Roman pool in the back, it was all stunning.

  Dale parked in the circular driveway and came around to open Isabel’s door. She accepted his hand but instantly pulled away when she stood, avoiding the popping spark that transferred between them. He grabbed her bags while Brad pulled up behind them. Not wanting to have another confrontation with the man, she headed up the steps.

  Dale came up right behind her and let her into their home. He held the door open, and she hesitantly stepped into a round foyer. To her right towered a curved stairwell. To the left was an elegant dining area, while a large kitchen sat farther back. Beyond the stairs on her right was an arched entryway to hidden rooms. Straight ahead she admired the large living room. Off-white walls and oversized furniture were accented with blue pillows, rugs, curtains, and flowers. It was breezy, modern, and inviting. Beyond the living room, she could see romantic pool lights glimmering across the calm water.

  “How about a tour tomorrow? It’s late, and it’s been quite a night. I’m sure you’d just like to get some sleep.” Dale watched her, bags in hand, while Brad aimed for the hallway behind the stairs.

  She nodded, feeling exhausted but knowing sleep would come late, if at all. He walked her through the kitchen where she stopped to admire stainless steel appliances, the blue-tiled countertops and island, and professional double ovens. She wondered which of the two was the cook, or if this was all part of their game to seduce women. Women usually loved men who could make a great breakfast in bed or a succulent candlelight dinner.

  Past the kitchen, he turned down a hallway to the door at the end. She hadn’t expected this house to look the way it did on the inside. She’d always pictured it more of a bachelor hangout with black lacquer and maybe some whips and chains hanging from a ceiling somewhere. And when he led her into her room, she found she liked the all-white furniture and pale yellow walls.

  While it was a guest bedroom, it must have been designed by a woman. The queen-sized bed, covered in a white comforter, was flanked by nightstands topped with beautiful purple orchids. A short palm tree stood on one side of the large window facing the back of the house while a small dresser sat across from her bed and was covered with different sized candles. She could see she also had her own bathroom.

  Dale put her bags down by what looked like the closet door and eyed her carefully. “Well, I hope this works. The alarm’s set so you’re safe here.”

  So I can’t escape. “Are you guys in the habit of kidnapping women? This room looks too feminine for any of your manly friends,” she noted sarcastically.

  “Bailey, you may remember Brad’s little sister, decorated this house. She has her own interior design firm in Chicago. She figured she’d want a girly room to come sleep in whenever she flies into town.” He crossed his arms, and his biceps threatened to tear the poor sleeves at the seams.

  Stop drooling.

  “And, yes, we usually keep our kidnapped women in here. I’m sure we can find the rope somewhere in these drawers,” he said, with the faintest grin before pretending to scan the dresser and the nightstands for said rope.

  Secretly admiring the work Bailey did on what she’d seen of the first floor, and cursing Dale’s ability to disarm her with his playboy dimples and divine body, she snorted.

  “And would you share with me how the poor women finally got out of here?”

  Dale took one step toward her and moved his eyes over every inch of her. She’d had just enough time to throw on some black jeans and a white tank top back at her house, but she might as well be naked. By the time his chocolate eyes were back on her face, she was flushing and more than wet again. Damn these men.

  “Once Brad and I were done satisfying every single sexual fantasy they’d ever had, we had to push them out the door. But don’t worry. That’s not why you’re here. You’re here so we can keep you safe. Trust me, nothing will happen.”

  What the hell had just happened? He went from proving why they’d been worthy of her masturbating to them to insulting her in the same breath. The charming one? Ugh, he was just a cold-blooded playboy.

  “Trust me, nothing will make me happier,” she retorted indifferently.

  He gave her an odd look she couldn’t quite figure out and began walking out of the bedroom.

  “Where do you guys sleep?” she asked.

  He turned, still holding the doorknob behind him. “Thinking about paying us a visit tonight?”

  She raised a brow and crossed her arms. “Yes, to smother you with a very large pillow.” She got another dimple-producing grin. Ugh, it wasn’t fair that he was so damned gorgeous.

  “I’m right above you, and Brad’s in the other side of the house. However, I’ll be taking the room down this hallway for now. I figured you’d want your own room, but it’s too far from us for our own peace of mind.”

  How noble, but as much as she’d like to think they were being thoughtful, she knew it was just to look the part of the heroes rescuing the Spanish damsel. It wasn’t to benefit her, to give her some privacy, or some smidgen of comfort. It was to look good. Period.

  If they hadn’t felt the need to threaten her with some atrocious rent, she’d believe they actually had cared about some promise they made to her grandfather. But because they had, she knew it was just a bother. She was just a thorn in their perfect gigolo lives.

  “Well, you’re too close for mine. Good night.” She locked the door the moment he clicked it closed.

  * * * *

  Brad was in hell. A scorching, deafening inferno reminding him how beautiful Isabel was, but he couldn’t have her.

  He’d pulled Dale off to the side to discuss who drove what from her house last night, and told him to take the guest room next to hers.

  While Dale was the ladies’ man, Brad just didn’t trust himself around Isabel. Dale was the emotional caregiver in their ménages. He would also respect their dangerous situation, knowing that any relationship with Isabel was bound to blind them from the apparent killer stalking her. Brad, however, would throw caution, along with all sense of logic, honor, and any other moral code, out the window for one taste of Isabel.

  It wasn’t like him to lose his self-control over anyone, especially a woman. He was always reserved, cool, and distant, much to the dismay of the women who whined and complained until, fed up that their tears didn’t soften him, they walked away. Brad felt women would do just that eventually. They would leave, like his mom did when he was a child, so why bother with any type of an emotional bond? But with Isabel it was different. Brad didn’t thi
nk clearly and his heart raced when she was near.

  Late last night, Dale enlightened him on the interesting conversation he’d had with her. His friend had been appalled at having to imply they didn’t want sex with her just to keep himself from touching her. As Dale put it, when he told her that nothing would happen, it was more an order for his dick to settle down than for Isabel’s benefit. But the bit about smothering them in their sleep had Brad laughing, because he could understand her frustration, even if his was of a different type.

  Seeing her naked tested his self-restraint to the snapping point. But the way she stood up to him, defiance shimmering in her stunning green eyes, her chin proudly jutted up in the air, was more emotionally arousing than he’d ever thought possible. She was strong, sensual, and stubborn. Qualities that just didn’t normally fit in the beautiful little package they were wrapped in.

  Damn, how he wanted to unwrap her. He dreamed of opening up that pink robe, lifting her by her ass to feel her lean legs around his hips, and pushing his aching cock inside her. He needed to hear her moan and call out his name. He had to own her.

  Shit, he had to get through another day without touching her. The sun was rising, whipping the first ribbons of orange glow across the ocean. Seagulls scoured the empty beach in search of breakfast. The only sound was the dripping of the steaming coffee into the half-full pot.

  “Ouch! Damn it.”

  He turned at the sound of Isabel cursing an apparent bump into something.

  He crossed the living room, watching her over the countertop as she examined her hip, and walked into the kitchen behind her. Damn, she was beautiful, and so small he wanted to sweep her into his arms and keep her safe. She wore a large gray shirt and tight black yoga pants. Her hair was down, and straight black tresses fell to the middle of her back, and he wondered how it’d look splayed across his pillow.

  “Are you okay?” Brad asked carefully, so as not to startle her, but she spun around, pulling the too-big shirt back over her left hip.

  His chest swelled when he noticed her look at him, top to bottom, then back to his eyes. He usually wore clothes around the house, but with sexual frustration crowding every thought, all he’d wanted was some caffeine so he didn’t think past the jeans. After that obvious admiration of his physique—from which she quickly recovered—he was thankful for that oversight.

  “Um, yes. I just ran into the corner of the island. I’m fine,” she reassured him while rubbing the hidden injury.

  He stepped forward, ignoring the step she took back. “Let’s take a look at it.”

  Her eyes opened wide, and he was dismayed to see fear. Why the hell did she fear him? Now he felt like a perverted ogre.

  “Why?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Are you scared of me?”

  Isabel set her mouth firm. She snatched her shirt up and pinned it under her chin, lowered the edge of her pants, and yanked up what he figured was her deep green leotard. Fuck.

  Her skin was creamy caramel. Tanned, soft, and silky. His breathing came a little faster now, and he couldn’t have stopped his fingers from reaching for her hip had someone held a gun to his temple. He raked his thumb across the curve of the bone.

  Unknowingly, he licked his dry lips as he eyed what little he could of her inner thigh, imagining himself pulling aside that tight green material to expose her smooth lips. He’d run his tongue over them before separating them, spreading them wide to allow for a taste of her.

  Oh hell, his dick pounded, and she was sure to notice and find more reason to hate him. When she flinched at his touch, he dropped his hand.

  “Yup, you’ll have a small bruise there,” he told her, stepping back quickly as if he’d been burned. He really felt as if he’d just played with fire. “Coffee?” He turned to reach for the mugs, anything to distract him before he threw her across the kitchen table.

  “Thank you, yes.”

  “Milk and sugar?” He handed her the large mug.

  She looked up at him curiously. “Yes. Was that a guess or did you know?”

  He took the milk out of the refrigerator and set it next to the sugar bowl on the island. Then he walked to the other side, putting as much distance as he could from her. “That’s how Thomas drank it, so I just guessed.”

  While that may have been a guess, he knew she favored the color red for her dancing costumes, that she wore the cutest pigtails when she ran errands, and when she was deep in conversation, she rimmed her wine glass with her delicate fingers.

  Mug in hand, Isabel moved to the same spot where he’d been standing by the patio door.

  He told himself not to follow her, to go do something, rearrange the garage or clean all the grout in the bathroom with a tiny brush. Anything but stand near her again. But before he knew it, he was walking toward her, and he sucked in his breath.

  The morning sun cast a delicate orange light on her, creating an angelic silhouette. Just when he didn’t think she could be any more stunning she managed to suck his breath away with her ethereal beauty. .

  “So, what’s this about you owing my grandfather?” she asked dryly and sipped her coffee while watching the sun rise.

  Brad knew the question would be asked today, and he delivered his rehearsed answer as he slowly approached her. “We got into some trouble, Dale and I, and Thomas saved us. When he asked us to watch over you, we didn’t hesitate.” He took a drink from his own cup.

  She turned to him. “That was vague. Why would he ask his neighbors to watch over me?”

  Expecting the obvious follow-up question, he replied, “He loved you and figured your free-spirit personality may get you in trouble some day.” That wasn’t exactly the whole truth, but it was all he could give her right now.

  Slowly, she nodded. “That must have been some trouble you boys got into for the favor to span a few years.”

  She believed him, Brad saw it in her eyes and he felt like a jerk for hiding things from her. “Yes, he was quite a man.”

  Isabel’s lips turned up at the corners. “So you don’t want to tell me the severity of the trouble you two were in, or how my grandfather saved you.”

  The woman was fast—he liked that. “Very good, Isabel. Now tell me, do you have any idea who was in your house last night?”

  She picked that moment to fix her gaze on his mouth, and he swore he stopped breathing. “No. Do you?”

  He cleared his throat. “No.”

  “Then how did you know to be at my house last night?”

  “I didn’t. We have had a hunch since Gina’s murder that you might be in danger, too, so we’ve been passing by your house at night. We heard you scream.” And he never wanted to hear that sound again.

  She cocked her head and raised an arched brow at him. “What did my grandfather tell you, exactly?”

  Brad knew he couldn’t tell her everything, yet. All in its own good time. “Your father made a few enemies and Thomas felt someday someone may want to hurt you to retaliate. Since the cops no longer see Gina’s boyfriend as a suspect, and they have no other suspects yet, we’re taking a few precautions.”

  Isabel pursed her lips. “I remember my father upsetting a lot of people. I’d hear my mom argue with him and say something about how someone said my dad would someday pay. But I never found out what exactly he’d done. I figured it had to do with his shady business deals my mom hated so much.”

  She shook her head, her eyes drifting off to a distant memory.

  “I’m sorry for all this,” he told her.

  Isabel turned back to him. “Tell me, how did you know about Gina’s murder, and that she was a friend?”

  “Good morning. How about some breakfast?” Dale broke in quite cheerfully from the kitchen, and for that, Brad was thankful.

  Chapter Five

  Isabel couldn’t eat. She was hungry, starving actually. The food was amazing, and she had learned Dale was the culinary genius, taught by his mother, who’d designed their professional kitchen. The problem
was the men. Oh, they had impeccable manners and made sure she lacked nothing. It was their damned good looks.

  And that was putting it mildly. She’d had a hard enough time since she ran into the edge of the kitchen island when she caught a half-naked Brad enjoying the sunrise. The sun had seemed to rise just for him. He was so magnificent—flat stomach, large muscular chest, chiseled arms, a perfect behind.

  Isabel actually struggled to carry on a conversation with him. And he was so blasé she felt like some ugly, inadequate little girl ogling him. Just as she had felt when she used to watch him from the other side of the fence.

  Then Dale walked in with exactly the same, and only, piece of clothing on. And she’d had another moment of tunnel vision, looking at his ripped abs and wide shoulders that went on to next week.

  She was glad when they left to get dressed but soon realized it made no difference. Brad left his shirt unbuttoned and Dale’s arms flexed invitingly under the short sleeves.

  Damn! How is it possible they look even better?

  So there she sat, trying desperately to listen to their conversation and keep her eyes tacked to their incredibly delicious faces. Brad’s blue eyes simply sparkled in the morning. Dale’s chocolate eyes made her so hungry for something other than his eggs Benedict. Damn. How could she be so attracted to both of them when they were a blue-eyed jerk and a cold-blooded playboy?

  All Brad did was offer to look at her bruise, and the touch of his hand on her hip actually made her dizzy. His face had been so close to her inner thigh she’d nearly moaned, and her fingers trembled to grab his black hair. Of course, he acted as if he were inspecting curtains while she was sure he read the anticipation, the want in her face.

  “What are your plans today, Isabel?” She blinked at the sound of Brad’s voice and drank half her orange juice to bring her temperature back down to something more tolerable.

  Dale’s cell phone rang just then, and he walked outside to the pool. Probably a woman. But why even waste her time thinking about that?