Connie was disconcerted she had been the topic of discussion, but then again, he had said he and Carmen were friends, so her sister would have been sure to tell him about her older sibling. “Yes, I did. It was too hard to tell them ‘No’ with everything else that was happening.”
“Seems we have more in common than we thought.”
“Then again maybe not.” Connie eyed him. This very handsome, very wealthy, and possibly very macho man was something that a poor little working girl like her could never handle. He was way out of her league.
“I think it’s time I left.”
Victor must have sensed the sudden chill emanating from her. “What’s wrong?”
“You and I … as much as you think we have in common, there’s all this,” she said pointing to the wealth around her and then looking away from him. “And lot’s more that we can’t forget or ignore.”
“You told me a short while ago about all that this city gave you, but it took a lot away too.” He cupped her cheek and applied gentle pressure until she faced him.
She arched one eyebrow and questioned softly, “Really? Why don’t you tell me what you think it took away?”
“Your self-esteem. Your pride. It’s made you think that you’re nothing but a poor little peasant from the boonies who’s presuming too much if she thinks she’s my equal.”
Connie clenched her fists on the steering wheel. His words hit too close to home. It was an everyday battle to convince herself she was as good as Victor and the rest of his class — those older, wealthier exiles who had made their mark on both Miami and America. It was what drove her every day to be the best. To be more than just another one of the new immigrants relegated to spending their lives slaving away in low pay, low possibility jobs because they couldn’t be accepted by not just the Anglos, but by their own.
“I don’t know if our seeing each other is such a good idea,” she gritted out between her teeth, hating who he was and his wealth for making her doubt herself. Hating herself for her lack of confidence.
Victor laid a hand on hers and loosened her death grip on the wheel. “Why not, Connie?”
She shrugged and resisted his attempt to twine her fingers with his. He gave up, dropped his hand, and was silent for a few seconds before quietly asking, “Are you afraid of what you’re feeling for me or are you afraid you’re not good enough?”
No matter what answer she gave, he had trapped her very effectively. There was only one answer that would salvage her fragile pride. For the moment anyway. “I’m not afraid. Name the time and the place,” she replied tightly.
“Pistols at dawn.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle and shake her head. “Okay, you win. When?”
“As soon as our schedules allow. I don’t have my full appointment schedule on my smartphone right now, so how about I call you in the morning?”
“That sounds fine.” She reached into her suit jacket pocket and pulled out her business card. “You can call me at any of those numbers.”
“Bet on it.” He grinned, leaned over, and dropped a quick kiss on her lips before he stepped from the car.
Connie watched as he walked to the side of the house, his lean body all full of confident male swagger.
Too rich, too macho, and just too damn handsome, she thought as she wheeled her car out of the driveway.
Chapter 7
Her cell phone rang, jolting loose her concentration.
Connie looked at the office clock. It was already close to nine p.m. Time to call it a night anyway so she answered. “Special Agent Gonzalez.”
“Definitely special in my book, Connie,” a familiar voice replied, rekindling the warmth from the other night.
Connie smiled and relaxed in her chair. “Hello to you, too, Victor. How are you?”
“Fine,” he answered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call earlier, but things just got out of my control. I’ve been wondering what you’ve been up to the last few days. How’s the wrist?”
She didn’t want to acknowledge that she had been missing him also since their first date a few nights ago. It had surprised her that she had, what with all the work on her mind. But every night as she went to bed in the same bedroom that had been hers since she was fifteen, she had thought of him.
“Me and the wrist are both fine. Busy, but fine. And you?”
“The same. By the way, thanks for getting my car back.”
“Not a problem. It was the least I could do for my sister’s boss.” The last words slipped out, the product of some subconscious Freudian desire to put distance between them.
Victor apparently wasn’t going to let her take the easy way out. “Just her boss, huh? So, I guess if I said ‘Let’s grab a bite to eat if you’re done?’ the answer would be ‘No’?”
It would have been hard to say “No.” But it was equally as hard to say “Yes.” She wanted to see him again, but that meant deepening their involvement and she still had some reservations about where the relationship could go.
“I’m not sure,” she confessed.
He sighed on the other end of the line. “Well, I’m looking at my watch, thinking I don’t have that much time left tonight to get dinner. I’ve just come out of surgery, and bright and early tomorrow morning I’ve got another operation. I’d like to spend what free time I have with you. After the other night, I thought you might want that, too.”
She dragged a hand through her hair and exhaled with disgust. “Look at us, would you? It’s nine o’clock and both of us are still at work. We’ll be back at work tomorrow while most people will still be asleep in their beds. We don’t have time for this kind of thing.”
He laughed and she could picture him, his smile broad, the dare in his blue eyes. “Where’s your sense of adventure? We have at least another three hours before the day is up. What do you say? A quick bite down on Calle Ocho. Nothing fancy.”
He was just too hard to resist and if truth be told, she did have to grab dinner before she went home. How could it hurt? Besides, her parents’ house was right off Eighth Street. “Okay, you win. Adventurous Connie will meet you in half an hour at Versailles.”
“Deal. I’ll be there.”
#
Victor paced the narrow strip of pavement that surrounded the restaurant, jiggling the change in his pants pocket as he waited for her. He looked down Calle Ocho and caught a glimpse of a red BMW coming down the busy street in Miami’s Little Havana. His heart raced in anticipation and he tracked the car with his gaze. It approached the restaurant, then passed by on its way toward Le Juene. Disappointment followed.
“Get a grip,” he told himself and began to pace again. She would be here any moment and if she stood him up, he would survive. He was a big boy who could handle rejection.
He jumped as a small hand slipped into his. “Hello, Victor. Something wrong?”
Yeah, something was definitely wrong, he thought. Wanting her morning, noon, and night was driving him crazy, especially since he had only just met her. He bent, wrapped his arm around her waist, and brought her close for a long kiss. Instead of the protest he had expected, she returned the kiss heatedly, moving her hands beneath his jacket to his back, drawing him closer.
When they broke apart, he was breathless and noted with pleasure the flush across her cheeks. “I’m glad you could make it. How’s the arm feeling?” he asked as the bulkier line of the cast registered against his body.
A hesitant grin formed on her generous lips. “I can tell you’re glad and the arm is feeling just fine, thank you.”
He held her hand more tightly, walked to the entrance of the restaurant, and once inside, drew her close. As they waited for a hostess to seat them, he glanced up, and their reflection in the mirrors along the one wall surprised him. They looked so right together. He placed his hands on her shoulders, drew her back against him. She went willingly and the mirrors confirmed her pleasure, reflecting back the Madonna-like half smile on Connie’s face. The darkening of her eyes. W
ith pleasure or desire? he wondered, hoping for the latter.
He had heard that decades earlier the patrons had protested the removal of the mirrors after a renovation. He was glad the mirrors had gone back up for it had afforded him that one quick glimpse of Connie without defense or pretense.
The hostess finally arrived and led them to a table. The older woman left the menus on their plates and without looking at his, he asked, “Do you know what you want?”
Connie nodded. “I’m fairly predictable. At this hour, I usually get a Cuban sandwich.”
He grinned. “Me, too.”
She shook her head and chuckled. “Oh, no. More in common.”
The waitress came over at that moment and he placed the order for the sandwiches, glancing at Connie when the waitress asked for their drink order.
“A mango shake, please,” Connie replied.
“The same for me,” he echoed.
Again she chuckled at their similar tastes and he joined her, wondering what it was about her that made it easy to enjoy even the simple things again. “So, tell me, Special Agent. Catch any serial killers today?”
He listened intently as she gave him the barest of details about the case. “I wish I could tell you more, but I’m not at liberty to discuss anything until the case is closed.”
Victor raised his hand. “I understand. There are some things that I probably wouldn’t even want to know,” he said with a grimace.
“In your line of work, you’ve probably seen your share of grisly sights as well.”
Victor refrained from replying as the waitress brought over their sandwiches and shakes. He grabbed hold of the trapezoidal half slice of the ham, pork and cheese sandwich just as Connie did the same. After they had both taken a bite, he motioned her to move closer. “If I tell you this, you have to promise never to repeat it.”
Connie looked at him quizzically. “That bad, huh?” She took a bite of her sandwich.
He nodded, looked around, and in a soft whisper said, “I nearly passed out the first time I saw a cadaver in medical school.”
Connie nearly choked on her food and covered her mouth with her hand to hide her amusement. “I have a terrible secret as well.”
Victor met her gaze, put down his sandwich, and nodded.
“Do you know what a ‘floater’ is?”
He shook his head.
She cricked a finger at him, asking him to come in closer as well. “In the Northeast, especially when it’s been cold, if someone ends up dead in the river, the body sinks to the bottom. When the temperatures warm in the spring, the gases in the body send it floating to the surface. The person may have been dead for months.”
Victor grimaced. “I think I know where this is going.”
Connie nodded. “At the Academy they sent us to watch an autopsy. My group was lucky until ….” She paused as he chuckled. “Anyway, we got a ‘floater.’ Three in the group hit the floor the second the sheet came off.” Connie emphasized her point by smacking one hand against the other, mimicking the sound her colleagues had made against the hard tile of the M.E.’s morgue. “I was close to losing it myself when the instructor forced me into a chair and made me put my head between my knees.”
His laughter was full and unrestrained. “Hell, that’s as bad as my nearly passing out,” he said, but the thought of a floater did nothing to kill his appetite.
Connie smiled. “Without a doubt. I was lucky to live it down, but only because one of the guys who hit the floor gave himself a concussion. My getting sick didn’t seem so bad in comparison.”
“You must have your share of other interesting experiences.”
Connie went on to regale him with stories of some of her misadventures at the academy, pausing now and then to take a bite of her sandwich or a sip of her shake. He was finished with his meal well before her, leaving him to devote his total attention to her. His interest only served to unnerve her and with a small portion of her sandwich left, she placed it down on the plate and announced, “I’m not that interesting, you know.”
Victor smiled broadly, sending a blast of warmth through her system. “On the contrary, you’re fascinating.”
“Really? I’m just an old fashioned kind of girl.” Taking a last slurp of her drink, she placed the glass on the tabletop and circled the straw around in the runny remains of the shake.
He reached out and stopped the nervous motion of her hands. “Old fashioned kinds of girls don’t usually become FBI Agents. Besides, there are other things that make you even more fascinating.”
Her head snapped up, resentment flaring in the feminist side of her. “I may just give you back that too macho, Victor.”
He raised his hands as if in self defense. “Come on, Connie. It’s just that you’re a contradiction in a lot of ways.”
She arched an eyebrow and considered what he had said. “In what way?”
“You’re liberated and independent and yet you’re still living at home.”
“I respect my parents’ ways and it wouldn’t have been worth the hassle right now to find an apartment. But little by little I’ll get them used to the idea that modern women don’t live with their parents until they get married.”
“Is that what they still think?”
Connie looked around, motioning to everything around them. “You know how hard it is to change some things,” she said and gestured to him. “So what’s your excuse for still living at home?”
“It was easier while I was going to medical school and afterward during my residency. Somehow it continued even after I was finished.”
She looked at the tabletop, considered what he had said for a second, and then raised her face, meeting his gaze. “You never felt the need for privacy? For your own space?”
He gave her a sexy grin. “You mean for my many sexual escapades?”
Connie stammered a half-hearted protest. “I’m not interested in your past history.”
“Aren’t you?” He met her gaze straight on and didn’t waver as he recited, “I’m not into casual sex. I’ve been involved with only two women in the past five years, not counting you, of course.”
“Are we involved?” she joked, wanting to defuse the increasingly awkward situation.
“Don’t you want to be?” he challenged.
She waved him off with a playful flick of a hand. “You are just too sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“With you, never,” he answered, all trace of humor gone from his voice. “With you I don’t understand myself anymore. All I know is that when I’m with you, I feel more alive than I have in a long time.”
Which was the same way she felt about him, but couldn’t admit. To avoid a response she said, “I think it’s time to go. I’ve got to get to work early.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Connie, if I didn’t like you as much as I do ….” He signaled for the check and when it came, he dropped a fifty on the tray without even glancing at the tab.
There was silence until the waitress returned with his change. He left a large tip, rose, and walked around to move the chair away for Connie, but she was already pushing to her feet. As she stood, he laid his hand at the small of her back and walked with her through the restaurant and out to her car. He waited as she unlocked the door and seated herself, but stopped her when she would have closed the door.
Connie eyed him quizzically, but he said, “Wait for me. I’ll follow you to make sure you get home all right.” That said, he closed the door for her, and walked over to his car which was parked a few spaces away.
Connie waited a moment, watching as the door of the Corvette swung open and closed, and he started the engine.
She did the same and pulled out of the spot, hesitating at the curb until he was behind her. She waited for a gap in traffic and when it was clear, she exited onto Calle Ocho, drove up a dozen or so blocks, and then turned onto one of the side streets, Victor’s Corvette filling the entire space of her rear view
mirror the entire time. A dozen houses from the corner, she eased into her parents’ driveway and Victor turned in behind her, illuminating her in the glare of his headlights.
She walked over to his driver’s side to say goodnight. As she approached, Victor lowered his window.
Bending, she leaned on the door’s edge. “Thank you. Dinner was very nice.”
He nodded, then muttered a curse, and asked her to move. She did so and he swung the door open, and got out of the car.
Connie glanced at him and he stepped closer, tilted her face up for his kiss. It was short, but potent. “I’ll call you soon.” The last part was more question than statement.
“I’ll let you know.” She was still not certain of what she wanted to do about him. Or about her interest in him.
With a grim nod he got back into the car, but instead of pulling away, he sat and watched as she walked up to the door, opened it, and entered. As she stood in the doorway, he slipped out of the driveway with a quick wave.
Hesitantly she waved back and tracked the red of his tail lights as he traveled down the block and back onto Calle Ocho.
She closed the door behind her, intent on going to bed. Instead she found her sister waiting for her. From the questioning arch of her sister’s brow, Connie realized Carmen wanted to know every little detail of that night’s date.
Well, that was fine, she thought as she kicked off her shoes and sat down on the couch next to her sister. Carmen held out a bowl of popcorn and Connie reached in, dug out a handful, and spared a quick glance at the television playing the latest segment in the Spanish telenovela.
On the screen a too macho type man was gazing amorously at a young nubile girl who was looking back at him as if he was her savior. Connie wanted to puke. She was a firm believer that women saved themselves.
“Please tell me you don’t really like this junk.”
“Give it a rest, sis. You take this too seriously. Lighten up. It’s fun,” Carmen said between munches.
“Mmmm,” she mumbled and reached for more popcorn, but Carmen slapped her hand.
Now and Always Page 6