Secrets and Seduction (Dangerous Desires)

by Sahara Roberts

  “Dr. Treviño has the advantage of being a man.”

  Blood rushed through Moni’s head, parading a string of ill-mannered words across the back of her mind. She chewed on the need to set the older woman in her place, better yet, to drag her into this century. Living in Dr. Treviño’s considerable shadow was stressful enough. How could she compete with someone who started practicing medicine before she was born?

  Breathe. Deep, cleansing breaths. The whole reason for this outing had been to try and improve their working relationship. If she didn’t bite her tongue, she’d ruin the little progress she’d made.

  “Well, I’m sure I’ll survive having a few eyebrows raised.” She’d certainly survived all the raised eyebrows, from people she cared about, the fateful night of her engagement party. The night Valdo shattered her plans for their future. No. I won’t allow those thoughts into my head.

  With a surreptitious glance around, Lupe pulled her aside and whispered, “The Calderon family may be well regarded, but you should take care.” Her lips hardly moved as she continued. “They have a long history of ruining a woman’s reputation before throwing her to the wolves.” The stiffness in Moni’s shoulders loosened. For once, Lupe seemed to be speaking to her with something akin to concern.

  While she wasn’t worried about “being ruined,” she wondered if Andres was one of the “deviant” Calderons Lupe referred to. He seemed a nice enough guy. For the most part, he went out of his way to keep to himself when other people were around.

  She bit the inside of her lip, resisting the urge to prod Lupe for more details. Gossip wasn’t her thing, and one of the few items Dr. Treviño specifically warned her about not engaging in when she came here. Especially since this little town seemed to foster the behavior. “Thank you. I’ll try to be mindful in the future.”

  “You’ll find several young men in town—from good families,” Lupe rushed to add. Moni took a few steps, to get Lupe going. She didn’t want the woman steering the conversation to her son. In one breath Lupe would cut her down, or whoever else stood in front of her. In the next she was trying to sell her on the idea of hooking up with her son. She’d have to find a diplomatic way to put a stop to that soon.

  “Simon thinks the world of you.”

  And there she goes. “Thanks. He’s like a brother to me, even though I haven’t known you both very long.” Simon was nice enough, but not exactly the type to catch her attention. His job, keeping the books for the local general store, was two blocks down the street. He dropped off and picked up his mother every day, and even came by the office during lunch on occasion. Over the last few weeks, he’d been coming by more often. Not that he’d shown any interest in her. Thankfully.

  Whatever either one of them had in mind wasn’t going to happen. She’d been counting the days until Dr. Treviño was free to take over his office again. Her bags had been out, ready to be packed for months, waiting for the magic words. Nothing would keep her from jetting out of town the moment she got the call about the position in Monterrey’s new ambulatory group.

  Luck was on his side. After overhearing the chief talking to Andres in the stable, he’d expected the officer to seek a word with him. The party was now in full swing behind the two men as they made their way slowly through the knee-deep grass. They were well outside the glare of the lights set up for the mariachis, entertaining the crowd after the rodeo.

  The dark uniform Barrios wore, along with his own clothing, would help them blend into the night. The going was slow with the chief barely able to stand, but keeping him upright was preferable to leaving a drag trail.

  “Where’rewe go’n?” The words slurred together as his pace faltered, shifting his weight again.

  “To the last cabin. You’ll get the answers you require.” Barrios nodded. A sliver of doubt crept past the adrenaline rushing through his body. Barrios allowed him to lead, trusting him, accepting a drink he’d easily dosed. This had never been part of the plan, but he had come too far to turn back. He stiffened his resolve, he would do what must be done to save what was most precious to him.

  They’d reached the unused cabin sitting farthest from the main house. “Take a step. That’s it. Careful.”

  “Is’s dark.”

  “Yes. Take a seat while I turn on the light.” He got the chief settled and waited, knowing the narcotic had disoriented him enough to lose track of time. Shortly he’d be able to sort through this mire. Perhaps he’d overreacted. The questions were unexpected. Too many. Too personal. He hadn’t expected anyone to unravel his secrets.

  The chief’s breathing evened out.

  A headache thrummed along his temples. He’d have to decide what to do with this predicament. The narcotic would wipe the memory of what happened tonight, but the information he already had would remain. Having those ties leaked could bring consequences he wouldn’t be able to deal with.

  No. He couldn’t see another way to resolve the issue and stop any further investigation into his life and Guerrero’s group. With everybody occupied, he’d have just enough time for what he had to do.

  Chapter Three

  Dr. Treviño sat behind the sturdy oak desk. An array of diplomas and certificates formed an arch on the wall behind his leather office chair. Even with all the experience he’d gained in his practice, Monica had a growing need to question his health. It was in her nature.

  She tapped her short, manicured nails on the manila folder in front of her. She couldn’t put this off any longer. Twice now he’d zoned out while reviewing patient files during his regular visits.

  She took a deep breath, exhaling as she produced the serene smile she used while discussing a patient’s illness or concern. “You don’t need me to tell you you’re suffering from exhaustion.” Dark circles colored the heavy bags under his eyes, his shoulders drooped, and he seemed to have thinner, grayer hair than when she arrived six months ago. “But I have to ask if exhaustion is all that’s wrong?”

  “Old age seems to be finally catching up with me.”

  “Is there something I could help you with, so you aren’t tied down to Mr. Guerrero?” And maybe get her home quicker, in the process.

  His gaze sharpened for a moment as he stared at her, and something she couldn’t identify flashed over his face. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to apologize for being forward, but he held up his hand while shooting a glance at the closed door.

  “I appreciate your concern and, of course, as a doctor you have questions about things I cannot discuss. Pablo is no ordinary patient and the circumstances are…problematic.” He leaned toward her, folding his hands together, and rested his chin on top of them. He checked the door again, then directed his gaze back to her and lowered his voice. “There are dangers here you know nothing of, and I prefer to keep it that way. I have his trust, for what that is worth. It is best in such cases to ask very few questions, my dear.”

  She nodded. Of course the poor man was under tremendous stress. He spent days at a time locked away, his patient a man with a volatile temper and a history of violence. Not knowing what he was treating Guerrero for, or what it was he couldn’t tell her, didn’t leave her much to offer in the way of advice.

  Doctor Treviño absently rubbed at the top of his desk. “Any news on David?”

  Moni bit the inside of her lips and shook her head. “Nothing. Nobody’s seen or heard from the chief since the rodeo on Saturday.”

  His brows met in high peaks. “Three days.” He closed his hands, trying to quell a light trembling. “That does not bode well for him.”

  “No, definitely not.” His officers had speculated about who he’d gone home with. The event drew a lot of fans, many of them women. While everyone hoped he’d gotten lucky, they didn’t seem too convinced. “I didn’t recognize half the people attending.”

  Dr. Treviño leaned back in his chair, rubbing his index finger across his right eye. “What I did find odd was having so many unfamiliar faces in the waiting area.”

>   She’d been shocked when Lupe arrived on Monday morning, a trail of patients following her into the building. Several new patients, some curious, some expectant. “Lupe’s been in a mood since yesterday. At one point we had to review the policy to see all patients, regardless of their ability to pay for the visit.”

  He nodded once. “I can assist you for the next few hours.”

  “We’re trying to get you to rest,” she said in her best doctor’s voice. “Last night Dora stayed until we were done. I’ll see if she’s willing to help us cover the front desk again today.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Monica. I’ll try to rest my old bones.” He stifled a yawn, leaning in to pat her wrist with a knowing chuckle. “I need these outings, even if all I can manage is to sit and listen to Lupe complain.”

  Moni brushed an imaginary speck off the thigh of her black slacks. Lupe was a handful. The woman needed Xanax more than any patient she’d ever seen.

  “Dealing with Lupe can take patience,” he said in a fatherly tone. His light-brown eyes, faded with age and exhaustion, held a note of sympathy. “I wouldn’t have reached out to you for this assignment if I thought you weren’t suited.”

  One sentence from Dr. Reynaldo Treviño was enough to humble her. The petty comments about Lupe trying to push past the filter in her brain would have to stop.

  “We’re from another generation. Not everyone your age can understand the cultural niceties we grew up with.” He rolled a pen back and forth, his thoughts far away. “Had I been born in Copas, I would have happily spent my life here.”

  There was certainly a massive generational gap. Every night she went to bed missing home and the freedom she’d taken for granted. Everyone in Copas was critical of what they considered propriety. It was as if the last fifty years of progress in the rest of the world hadn’t reached here. Isolated. That’s how she felt.

  He shook his head, pulling back to the present. “Keep your head up, Doctor Vasquez.” He smiled with a professor’s pride for a former pupil. “I know Lupe is doing what she thinks is best. And she cares for the patients coming through this office.”

  Well, she certainly knew a lot about the patients coming through the office. “Speaking of which, I should get back before I’m called out for slacking.”

  “You could never be accused of shirking your duties.”

  A blush that matched the coral hue of her blouse made its way up her neck. If he only knew. She opened the door to find Lupe waiting—a sour look on her round face. Monica stepped back, allowing Lupe through while turning to the doctor with a cocked eyebrow. I told you so.

  As soon as she left the room the door shut behind her, catching her heel. What a bitch. She steadied herself, doing a double take when she noticed the door to the last exam room closing. Her stomach dropped. This meant a patient from Guerrero’s crew needed medical attention. Was that why Lupe had been waiting on them?

  Per office policy, whoever occupied the corner room had to be seen first. Not only were they more likely to have a life-threatening injury, but getting the person off the premises would make for a safer environment.

  Pushing the door open, she stepped in, taking careful stock of the bare counter in a green crackled finish, clean sink, and most importantly, no signs of blood. Her heels clicked, echoing in the strained silence. The forest-green privacy curtain was drawn to cover one side of the exam area. Why the mystery? Guerrero’s men walked around like they owned the place. The shadow behind the curtain seemed to be the only person in the room. Three anxious steps later, she caught sight of a muscled shoulder, short dark hair, and a familiar sun tattoo.

  Andres sat on the exam table, bare-chested, his palms on the cushion, fingers hanging over the edge. She exhaled, stress draining from her neck and back, a different kind of tension taking over. One that had her thankful the lab coat covered her breasts.

  “Hey, Doc.” An easy smile greeted her.

  Coming closer, she held his gaze, careful to keep her attention from straying past his shoulders. She’d always liked Andres, despite his involvement with the cartel. He wasn’t like most people from the area. He preferred to sit on the fence of propriety, keeping one foot on the railing whenever they weren’t alone. That didn’t mean they’d end up in a lip lock again, regardless of the little happy dance going on inside her.

  “Andres?” She jammed her hands into the coat pockets.

  “I was thinking I might need a follow-up.”

  The walls moved in on her, making the room smaller.

  Her training told her Andres was fine. Yet here he was in the exam room, half dressed and looking at her like she was a decadent piece of chocolate. And the standard clinical thoughts went right out the door, replaced by a flutter somewhere beneath her throat. Ay Dios. She should get rid of him. Run him out. Tell him to find another doctor.

  Her mouth had a mind of its own, however. “Let me grab some gloves.” She pulled her hands from her pockets and turned to the cabinet. The latex should help impede any interaction. At least that’s what she’d tell herself afterward.

  A strong hand caught her elbow, leading her back around to stand between his knees. “No latex,” he murmured, guiding her palms to settle at his bare waist.

  Warm skin singed her fingertips, intensifying the flutter. Her pinky skimmed along the top of his dark jeans and western belt. “M…my hands are cold.”

  He was so close…too close. She swallowed, knowing what was coming, hating herself for the thrill running through her body. But kissing Andres Calderon had made her feel like she’d been missing out on something her entire life. Something only he could give her.

  “We’ll have to do something to warm you up.” The distance between them melted away. His lips found hers. Gentle. Searching. The air around them sizzled. Work-roughened fingers curled along the side of her face. The barest pressure of his thumb on her jaw tilted her head, allowing his tongue to sweep past the seam of her sensitized lips. Heat rose between them—from him—from her? Step back…too close. Defiant fingers anchored to his body of their own accord.

  Her coat opened. She should stop him. This could only lead to trouble. But his hand swept up her torso unhindered, to mold her left breast with delicious pressure. The edge of the demi cup gave way, dragging across her stiff nipple. Awareness rushed through her chest and the top of her arms, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. Her body came alive, reminding her of all the things she hadn’t done in way too long. Things he’d brought to mind more and more often lately. His fingers surrounded her nipple, rolling the sensitive nub with sure, gentle strokes. A jolt ran through every vital organ, slamming against the juncture of her legs.

  Monica pulled away, exhaling in a rush. “Dios mio.” He stilled but didn’t release her. She hadn’t managed to put more than an inch or two between them. For some insane reason, her extremities weren’t complying with her wishes.

  “Mmm, sorry, Doc.” His voice rumbled by her cheek as he inched up the curve of her neck. “The closest I come to religion is missionary position.”

  A whimper escaped her. She trembled, drenched at her core, and wanted to climb on the table with him. The flippant remark added images to those already stuck in her head—heavy-lidded eyes, generous mouth, and broad shoulders moving above her while he thrust…

  Slamming her eyes shut, she yanked her hands back from where they rested, splayed high across his thighs. How had her thumbs ended up a hair’s breadth away from the bulge in his jeans? And did she really need to move them?

  The halfhearted plea to God had been adopted from Soledad, more from familiarity than true belief. But maybe she should have been calling out for help from above. She’d never be able to utter those words again without recalling the image of Andres Calderon, half naked, sexy as hell, and staring at her with desire.

  Unsteady, she stepped back, exhaling through open lips before drawing in the next breath. He reached for her. She shifted, pulling her arm away as the door opened. Within a split seco
nd she straightened, dragging the white coat around her like a protective cloak.

  She headed toward the door, glad for the sturdy heels she’d worn today. Lupe stopped at the other side of the curtain, her shoulders stiff and a disapproving frown riding her thin lips.

  “I need a patient file opened for Mr. Calderon. Run a panel on him for a baseline.” Somehow, she made it past without glancing over her shoulder.

  “What tests do you want me to run?” Lupe asked.

  “All of them,” she snapped. Lupe’s head jerked back, her eyebrows shooting high onto her narrow forehead. Moni didn’t slow down. How many years had she worked with difficult patients and overbearing family members? Yet one man had been able to shake her demeanor. Not only had she blatantly ignored the moral code she’d sworn to live by, she’d been unprofessional, given in to physical urges, and her hard-won control over her emotions had slipped.

  The office was occupied, as were the exam rooms, and Dora sat up front. With limited options, she turned to the ladies’ room. The closed door loomed before her. Please be available. The last thing she needed was someone else seeing her disheveled. Months of working to gain everyone’s respect would wither in the few hours the gossip took to go from one end of town to the other.

  The door gave way to welcoming darkness. She flipped the lock and turned on the light before she slumped against the tiled wall to catch her breath. He hadn’t touched her last time, only fueled an unexpected longing. Damn you, Andres Calderon. She crossed her arms over her chest, bringing the insides of her wrists over the needy tips of her breasts.

  More than once, she’d had to gently—or not so gently—let a guy down. The fact she lived alone would get tongues wagging over the most casual of outings. So she wasn’t going to date while she was in town, much less tumble into bed with a man. Especially not one with some sort of connection to the local cartel—no matter how her body begged her to reconsider.