Now and Always

by Pineiro, Charity

The table he led them to was outdoors, on the edge of the veranda, and along a large stone balustrade. The top of the table was a deep, plum-colored faux marble, elegantly laid with fine white linen napkins and silver that gleamed even in the soft light. A small bouquet of fragrant freesia sat in a dainty crystal vase. Beside it, a votive-shaped candle cast hazy light over the deep tones of the tabletop. Overhead, ceiling fans rotated slowly, stirring the breeze from the nearby ocean.

  The maitre’d held the chair out for her and she sat and waited for Victor to slip into the spot across from her. The table was narrow and as he did so, their knees bumped. She stiffened at the contact, unprepared for the sudden warmth the simple touch generated. Apparently sensing her unease, Victor shifted his chair back slightly to give her more room.

  A waiter placed the menus before them. “Something to drink before dinner?” he asked, but they said “No” in unison. Either could be called away at any moment. They needed to be sharp.

  “You ordered the paella, right?” the waiter questioned.

  “Yes, we did,” Victor confirmed. “Would you like an appetizer, Connie? The tapas here are very good.”

  “Sure.” She nodded and returned the menu to the waiter as Victor placed the order.

  “Of course, Dr. Cienfuegos,” the waiter replied smoothly.

  It was clear to Connie he was well known here. She tried to tell herself that being out and about was typical of a man in his position.

  “It bothers the hell out of you, doesn’t it?” he said, surprising her with his insight.

  “I’ve just realized that you’re what I usually try to avoid.” She raised her glass and took a sip of water as he stared at her intently. The heat of his gaze transferred itself to her and she slipped an ice cube into her mouth, using its cool to try and regain her calm.

  Victor leaned back in his chair, rested an elbow on the arm, and rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Really. And what is that?” he asked as he tapped a finger to his lips.

  She tried not to envy those fingers as she wondered how his mouth would warm her chilled lips.

  She set the glass back down, leaned her elbows on the table, and steepled her fingers before her. “You break all my golden rules on who not to date, namely men who are too macho, too handsome, and too rich.”

  He laughed and shook his head, surprising her. He seemed totally unfazed by how she saw him. “I’m not insulted. Should I be?”

  “Well ….” She stumbled and tried to recover. “Men who are too macho expect to be served and waited on by women who stay at home and have their babies while they have an assortment of affairs.”

  “Ouch. That hurts,” he said with a slight grimace, but she could tell he was just teasing. He leaned closer, and as he did so, a strong ocean breeze blew a lock of his dark hair across his forehead. She reached out with the hand with the cast, fingered it back in place, pausing to straighten the rumpled silk. When she would have moved her hand away, he trapped her fingers in his and brought their joined hands to rest on the table. The warmth grew in her again, spreading from her fingers, up her arm, causing an unsettling tightening across her breasts.

  “I’ve never understood why any man would marry someone and then spend his life cheating on her.” He rubbed his fingers across hers until he reached the edge of her cast. He frowned then. “So, tell me what’s so bad about my being too rich and too good-looking?”

  Connie hesitated, but he figured he might as well know all her reservations right up front. “Well, I guess the too good-looking goes hand in hand with being too macho. You think you’re the best thing to come along which I guess goes hand in hand with being too rich. When you have that much money you think you can’t do anything wrong.”

  Victor tossed his hands up in resignation. “Well, three strikes and I’m out and I never even got to the plate.”

  Connie laughed and shook her head. “Why do men always use sports metaphors?”

  He grinned as the waiter brought over the tapas, a tasty combination of rich Spanish Manchego cheese, Serrano ham, and assorted olives and roasted peppers. Alongside were toast points and alioli, the rich garlic mayonnaise common in Spanish cuisine.

  Victor motioned for her to take her choice and Connie laid a few items on her plate. She waited until he had also taken some of the appetizers and began the conversation anew. “You must be wondering why I even let you into the ballpark.”

  He chuckled. “I think you mean, up to the plate, but I am wondering,” he said after swallowing a mouthful of cheese.

  Connie had been wondering about it herself. She hadn’t been kidding him when she said he was the type she usually avoided. The same type that usually made her feel insecure, she admitted. But for some reason she had.

  Lust, she thought, but tamped that idea down and shrugged, meeting his gaze. “I guess because Carmen spoke highly of you. She’s generally not all that bad a judge of character.”

  She hesitated and tossed him a quick grin. “Of course, there is a first time for everything.” She nibbled on a toast point spread with the alioli and some of the prosciutto-like Serrano ham.

  Victor laughed and experienced that same heady kind of feeling he had first felt with Carmen’s arrival a few weeks ago. Like Carmen, there was something about Connie that made him feel alive again. In Connie it was dangerously coupled with an incredibly potent dose of sexuality and with an equally hazardous desire to test her waters and see if they were as deep and turbulent as they seemed. “So do I get to tell you why you wouldn’t have been my first choice either?”

  Her head snapped up at his words. “To be honest, I’ve been wondering what possessed you to come over last night at the gala.”

  Even in the dim light on the veranda the flush on her cheeks was obvious. He moved closer to her and leaning over the small width of the table, cupped her cheek in his hand. “If you’ve looked in a mirror lately, you would know. You’re a very beautiful woman.”

  Connie flushed even more and fumbled with her napkin before meeting his gaze. “I’m not the type men like you gravitate towards.”

  “You are my type,” he surprised himself by saying. His type was generally the tall leggy blondes that could be found along the paths in Lummus Park, roller skating in bikinis that exposed nearly every inch of their honed bodies. Or the equally sleek Cuban debutantes, with their perfectly groomed looks and designer gowns.

  Connie’s hand twitched slightly before she pulled it away, confirming that she had seen the doubt on his face.

  “Thanks for being such a gentleman, but it’s not really necessary,” she replied tightly.

  Victor leaned back in his chair once more and was studying her intently when the waiter brought over a large olla, a terra cotta casserole filled with fragrant saffron-colored rice and seafood. Clams, mussels, shrimp, and lobsters swam in the saffron-flavored rice along with pieces of chicken and Spanish chorizo sausage. The waiter carefully spooned out the servings onto their plates and for the next few minutes there was silence as they both savored the rich flavors of the paella.

  When Victor was finished with his first serving, the waiter came over, divided the remaining rice and seafood on his and Connie’s plates, and removed a dish piled high with their empty shells.

  Connie watched Victor enjoying his meal and sighed, drawing his attention.

  He raised his head to meet her gaze. “Something wrong?”

  “No, on the contrary. Everything’s wonderful. It’s just a lot of food.” She patted her belly, which she imagined had grown drastically since they had sat down to eat.

  He grinned. “Yeah, but remember that dancing you promised? You need your energy, so eat up.”

  His good humor was contagious and Connie was hard pressed to resist it. She dug into her second helping, occasionally glancing past the veranda balustrade to the beach across the street and the palms swaying in the night air. By the time she returned her attention to her plate, Victor was already finished with his. She took another bite, then put
down her fork, too full for anything else.

  “Did you like it?” he asked.

  She smiled and surprised herself again by reaching out and giving his hand a squeeze. When he held onto her hand, she let herself linger there, liking the weight of his hand in hers. Liking the warmth. She was starting to grow used to it. “I enjoyed it. Thanks for making this such a nice night.”

  “Even though I’m everything you try to avoid with your golden rules of dating?” he reminded her playfully.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Well, for your good behavior, I’ll take the too macho label away if it’ll make you feel better.”

  He cupped her hand in both of his and drew it toward his heart. “You’ve made me a very happy man.”

  “Wow,” she said, pulling her hand away. “Now I know why you and Carmen get along so well.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Really? Why?”

  “Because you’re both crazy.”

  He laughed and motioned to the waiter for the check. “Would it surprise you if I said that normally I’m boring and really, really, really uptight?”

  “Yes. It would totally be hard for me to believe.”

  He took hold of her hand again. “Believe it. It’s just something that you and Carmen seem to bring out in me.”

  For a moment an unfamiliar pang of jealousy rolled over her. She and Carmen rarely attracted the same type of man. Up until his comment a second ago, it hadn’t occurred to her that he and Carmen might be involved. “Do you and Carmen have a thing going on?”

  The waiter brought the check over and it wasn’t until after he had signed it and they were walking down Ocean Drive that he answered her question. “Carmen and I are friends, employer and employee. Nothing more.”

  Connie nodded and when he wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close to his body to avoid the crowd along the sidewalk, she went willingly, enjoying the easy camaraderie he had mentioned earlier. Enjoying the press of his hard body against hers. They were silent as they walked down the few blocks to the club they had passed earlier. A large crowd teemed outside, waiting to enter the busy discotheque.

  Victor turned to her and offered his apologies. “I’m sorry. I never thought it would be this mobbed.” He nearly had to shout to be heard over the music blaring from inside and the chatter of the waiting crowd.

  “That’s all right,” she shouted back. “Let’s just go for a walk.” She motioned across the street and he nodded, holding her hand as they waited to cross Ocean Drive. A row of cars cruised down the street in either direction and finally, two stopped to let them cross onto the park side of the street. Once there, Victor drew her close to him again and they strolled away from the sidewalk that edged the street to the broad, winding path. A short seawall along the path separated the park from the beach. At night there were only a few in-line skaters on the path instead of the daytime crush of moving bodies. They had traded those wheels for the cars that paraded down the drive.

  The wind was stronger in the park, the sounds of the surf louder than that of the partying people in the hotels and clubs across the street. The pachang-pachang of the Latin music rhythms combined with the susurrus of the surf and the rustle of the palm branches to make its own unique symphony.

  Connie breathed in deeply of the salt-kissed air and the fresh citrusy aftershave Victor wore. They walked down companionably to the end of the park, then turned back, heading toward the hotel and restaurant once more. When the building was across the street, Victor stopped and sat on the cement and seashell wall bordering the beach. He drew her next to him to lean against his hard thigh and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Beautiful isn’t it?” he asked.

  Connie nodded and laid her head against his shoulder as she glanced up and down the strip. “I always liked coming here and seeing all the bright colors on the hotels. All the neon glittering at night.”

  “I did, too. It was sad when the area started going downhill. Who would’ve thought it would ever come to life again?”

  He said it with such pride and something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Do you wish you were a part of it?”

  He shrugged, dislodging her head on his shoulder.

  She stood to get a better look at him and positioned herself between his legs, which were parted to balance his weight on the low seawall. His face was illuminated by the bright moonlight. It accentuated his lean features, traced the planes of his face with its harsh strokes. She laid her hand on his cheek and the other on his shoulder, softening against him.

  Victor smiled and raised his hand until it cradled hers as it rested against his face. “In a way I am. Every time I go to the hospital I rebuild things. Someone’s leg. Someone’s wrist. Sometimes someone’s life. I’d like to think that in my own way, I do something to keep this city growing.”

  Connie stroked his cheek, turned her palm, and took his hand with hers. “I’d like to think the same thing. This city gave me so much. I’d like to give something back.”

  “Seems like we have a lot in common,” he said and laid a hand along the nape of her neck, drawing her even closer.

  “Seems like we do,” Connie replied and leaned against him, thinking of how nice a night this had been. Of how nice he had been. She dared a longer look at him. There was no doubt he was handsome, but she had never been a sucker for good looks. No, her attraction to him might have been physical at first, but the contentment she felt right now, the easy way they had between them was deeper than the physical.

  From Carmen’s comments over the past few weeks, she had formed a generally favorable impression of him. Tonight had only served to reinforce it. He was intelligent, charming ….

  Too sexy.

  She raised her face and he met her gaze. In the depths of his eyes, she read his interest. The quick and sudden flare of desire.

  He leaned closer until his breath fanned her lips and all the time her gaze was locked with his. Even as his lips brushed across hers, fleetingly at first, her eyes remained open, watching him as he watched her until finally he closed his eyes and delicately ran his tongue along the outline of her lips.

  She sighed, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth to him. Her head reeled from the first inquiring movement of his tongue against hers. She tried to steady herself by laying a hand on his chest and instead felt the pounding of his heart beneath his hard muscles. She pulled away, met his desire-darkened, sapphire blue gaze, and her own heart begin to beat in a sympathetic rhythm.

  “This is ….” she began, but couldn’t finish as he brought his lips to hers once more and all rational thought fled her brain.

  Victor’s lips were hot and hard against hers, no longer delicate as he plundered her mouth. A nip at the edge with his sharp white teeth, a light swipe with his tongue. She opened her mouth again, tasted him, his heat, and moaned. She ran her hand up to cup the back of his skull to draw him closer and leaned against him, her breasts barely brushing his chest.

  Victor wanted more than just that butterfly kiss of her breasts. He shifted his long body toward her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and drew her near. Warmth spread through his groin at the contact of their bodies, but he was already lost in the sizzling heat of her lips and the velvet of her tongue as she returned his kiss. He shifted his arms to wrap them around her waist, but the ungainly lump in the center of her back pressed against his forearm.

  He moved his hand back, reached for the lump, and encountered leather and cold hard metal.

  Her hand grabbed his and she broke the delicious contact of their lips.

  “That is definitely off-limits,” she said huskily.

  He coughed, shifted away from her, and dropped his hand from the holster. “Sorry, I’m not used to that.”

  “Women and guns? Does that bother you?” She looked away, dropped her hands to his shoulders, and he sensed the uncertainty in her.

  He cupped her chin, raised her face, and tried to reassure. “I’m not so macho t
hat I can’t understand your profession. If it bothers me, it’s because of how dangerous it could be for you.”

  She seemed satisfied with his answer, but the magic spell they had been experiencing earlier had clearly been broken.

  Connie cleared her throat, looked at her watch, and said, “I think it’s time I headed home. I need to be at work early.”

  “A serial killer waits for no man or woman,” he tacked on at the last minute.

  She laughed as he intended and shook her head. “Keep it up and I may add ‘macho’ back to the list.”

  “I hope not, Connie. Can we see each other again?” he asked as they walked back to the hotel’s entrance and flagged the valet to bring her car around.

  “I’d like that.” The shy smile she gave him took his breath away.

  “Great. We can talk about it while you drive me home.”

  Chapter 6

  At his direction, Connie pulled back onto MacArthur Causeway and continued until she reached the bridge for Palm and Hibiscus Islands. Victor motioned her to turn off and they crossed the bridge onto Palm Island, one of the man-made Venetian Islands home to some of Miami’s wealthier citizens. Connie swallowed uneasily, thinking she was way out of her league as Victor told her to stop at the security guard’s gate. When the guard recognized Victor, he raised the gate and Victor guided her to a large Spanish-style mansion on the southeastern portion of the island.

  Connie parked in the driveway and let out a low whistle at the size of the home and the views of the Star Island and South Beach skylines. “You must be a very successful doctor,” she said.

  Too rich, she thought again, reminded of the golden rules of dating that she had confided to him at dinner. Way too rich.

  Victor turned in his seat and gave her a tight smile, which surprised her. He seemed uncomfortable. “The house belongs to my parents. I have my own small wing on the side,” he finally explained.

  Connie couldn’t hide her own surprise. “You still live with your parents?”

  “So do you,” he tossed back at her quickly, although his voice held no censure, only a touch of amusement. “Carmen told me you caved in and moved home.”