Fierce Pride

by Phoebe Conn

  “Good morning. Do you mind if I join you?”

  Libby looked up and found a darkly tanned young man dressed in khaki shorts and a white shirt. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. “It’s a public bench. I’m just sitting here watching the boats,” she said.

  He sat on the other end of the bench. “Would you like to go sailing?”

  She would, but not with him. “Thank you, but not today.”

  “You’re American, aren’t you? Where are you from?”

  He was a good-looking man with bright green eyes, and it bothered her she couldn’t place him. Growing uneasy, she gathered up the orange peels and her sandals and rose to her feet. “I’m from Minnesota, and I’m staying here with my boyfriend.”

  He rose as well. “Does he live near here? Maybe I know him.”

  Santos wouldn’t appreciate her using his name. “I’m sure you do, but he guards his privacy well.”

  “How mysterious. May I walk you home?”

  Libby backed away. “I’d rather you didn’t.” She turned to dump the orange peels in the nearby trash container and carrying her sandals, went down to the shore and raced away to leave him far behind.

  Juan had joined Santos on the patio, and the men looked up when Libby reached them. She could tell by their wary expressions the news wasn’t good. “Is there another drawing? You might as well show me.”

  “I’d rather not,” Santos replied.

  She extended her hand. “Let me see it anyway.”

  Santos sighed and reluctantly gave her the drawing. It was easily recognizable as by the same artist. This time Santos had been drawn with eyes, but the throat had been slashed with a jagged line. “It’s the same angular writing. What does he say this time?”

  “Talentless bastard,” Juan said sadly. “If the same lunatic set the fire last night, he’s not content merely to draw insults. We should arrange for the security service to station armed guards here.”

  Ignoring Juan’s advice, Santos shuffled through the rest of the fan mail. “Here’s another one from the woman who wants tighter pants. That’s a nasty kind of strangulation.”

  “Santos,” Libby whispered. “Please be serious.”

  He slapped the letters and e-mail copies on the table. “I am. I’ve got my knee to worry about. Tomorrow I’ll do the ads for Aragon cologne, and Wednesday I plan to see Orlando Ortiz. I refuse to have armed guards following me around like some third-world dictator.”

  Juan shrugged and glanced toward Libby. “After the bulls, nothing is a threat. I understand, but I don’t agree.” He shoved to his feet. “The envelope with the drawing was a common type with adhesive on the flap, so there’s no spit to test for DNA. I’ll let you know if we receive another one. There’s been a wealth of letters from fans hoping you’ll be well soon. Do you want to read any of those?”

  “No, toss them, but have Sylvia put a sincere thank you for their concern on the website.”

  Juan nodded to Libby and left with his odd rolling step. She waited until the agent had rounded the corner of the house to lean forward. “I talked to a man down at the marina—”

  “You went all the way to the marina?”

  “I went for a walk, and it isn’t that far. Anyway, a young man spoke to me, and I knew I’d seen him somewhere. Maybe at the bullfights, I don’t know. He was too friendly. Where are those photos Javier took of the protesters?”

  “On top of the desk in the den.”

  Libby hurried to bring them out to the patio and sorted through them quickly. “Here, he’s the man with Victoria.”

  Santos sat up in his chair. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, he was dressed in shorts, looked like he belonged at the marina and asked if I’d like to go sailing. He asked too many questions, and I left as fast as I could.”

  “Now we need armed guards for you. Did he mention the name of his boat?”

  “No, but we could take this photo to the marina and ask at the office who he is.”

  “Have Manuel take you, and don’t walk that far from the house ever again.”

  Libby was too surprised he didn’t want to go with her to argue over his terse order. “This won’t take me long.” She squeezed his shoulder as she walked by, and he didn’t even blow a kiss. Annoyed, she found Manuel outside the garage, washing the Mercedes.

  Doubting he spoke much English, she spoke slowly. “Excuse me, will you please take me to the marina?”

  “It will be my pleasure,” he responded. He quickly dried off the sedan and opened the back door for her.

  Libby slipped in, but she felt ridiculous having a chauffeur. “Thank you. I have a few questions for the office personnel, and I won’t take a minute.”

  Manuel drove her there without making any effort at conversation. When they arrived, he circled the car to open her door. “I will wait as long as you need me.”

  There was a teasing shine in his eyes, and Libby thanked him again. They had walked past the office the day Santos had taken her sailing. Today, she went right in and approached the woman seated at the desk.

  “Hello, do you speak English?”

  “I do,” the woman replied. “How may I help you?”

  Libby thought this was the time to use Santos’s name and did so. The woman smiled with delight. “Mr. Aragon is here often.”

  Libby had brought the whole folder but showed the secretary only one photo. “I spoke with this man as I walked up to the marina this morning. I know we’ve meet, but I can’t recall his name. I believe he has a boat here.”

  The woman studied the photo a long moment. “We don’t give out the names of members, but I’ve never seen him. Perhaps he’s been here as someone’s guest. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

  “You have, thank you. Have you worked here long?”

  “I’ve been here six years. I love being near the water.”

  “I do too.”

  Manuel drove her home without asking any questions, and she wasn’t certain anything she could say would make any sense anyway. Santos hadn’t moved, and she dropped the folder on the patio table. “He isn’t a member, but he was casually dressed as though he intended to take his yacht out for a cruise. I didn’t want to grill the secretary about the security at the marina, but could someone get in to sabotage your boat?”

  Santos stared at her, his gaze dark. “If he’d been there to sabotage the boat, he would have been dressed in work clothes as though he had a right to be there. Besides, no one would expect me to go sailing with my knee torn up as badly as it is. I think it’s more likely he followed you. You weren’t actually in the marina, were you?”

  Libby felt sick. “No, I’d just walked that far and sat on one of the benches by the parking lot to eat the orange I’d taken. He just walked up and asked if he could sit with me. I didn’t want any company and left.”

  Santos picked up the photo to study it again. “There has to be something behind this we just can’t see. I’ve never cheated anyone at anything, so there’s no one carrying a grudge or I’d know about it. There are crazy fans, and the artist could be one of them. Then we have Victoria and this guy with the protestors. Did he give you his name?”

  “No, and I didn’t care what his was until I got back here and recognized him in the photo. I shouldn’t have missed the opportunity to ask him.” Restless, she paced beside him on the sandy patio tile.

  “Javier may get it tomorrow night at the protestors’ meeting. Would you like to eat lunch out here?”

  “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “Eat anyway. I can’t have you fainting the next time something odd happens here, which will probably be within the hour.”

  “They’re way past odd,” she argued.

  Santos caught her hand to pull her close and lowered his voice. “I can’t think of a way to use the Hispano-Suiza with my knee in a brace. The closet with my suits would work as a substitute for the elevator if we push everything back a couple of feet.”

  Libb
y had to laugh. “I thought the security company planned to have men working in the house this afternoon.”

  Santos’s smile turned sly. “Yes, they will, but I don’t do threesomes.”

  “What a shame.” When he looked badly startled, she leaned over to kiss him. “I’m teasing you. I don’t do threesomes either, but let’s wait until all the workmen have left for the day.”

  Santos shrugged. “If we must.”

  “Won’t worrying that Mrs. Lopez might discover what we’re doing be enough excitement for you?”

  He looked sincerely sorry. “It will have to be.”

  With Manuel’s help, Santos held on to the banister and hopped up the front stairs. When he reached the top, he thanked Manuel and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Libby followed him into the hallway and waited for the chauffeur to leave by the back staircase. When they were certain the household staff was busy elsewhere, Santos unlocked the closet door.

  Libby pulled the light string, entered and shoved the gorgeous trajes de luces back on both poles. “Is this enough space for you?” she whispered.

  “It’s perfect.” He closed the door and locked it from inside. He leaned his crutches against the wall and, facing her, got a grip on both clothes poles. “Take off everything.”

  She unbuttoned his shorts. “We’re pretending this is an elevator, remember? If someone presses the call button, I can’t step out naked.” She spread light kisses along his jaw. “It smells like your intoxicating scent in here.”

  He sucked in a deep breath. “Will I lose my appeal when other men are able to buy it?”

  She yanked the string to turn out the light and enveloped the small room in darkness deeper than a moonless night. She slid her hands under his polo shirt and raked her nails lightly across his abs. “I very seriously doubt it.” She unzipped his shorts to free his cock and stroked the smooth tip. “Everything about you is appealing.”

  “Take you hair down,” he whispered.

  She did it with one hand without releasing him and shook her head. He caught her mouth for a luscious kiss, and she moved close to trap his cock against her belly. “Sneaking sex in an elevator is supposed to be fast and primal, isn’t it?”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “This elevator isn’t going anywhere, so there’s no rush. Take off your sweater.”

  She heard someone moving down the hall and froze, but they walked right on by. Santos licked her ear, and she muffled a giggle against his chest. They were so close, and brushing against him filled her with a warming desire that pooled low in her belly. No longer caring what game they were playing, she pulled off her sweater, unzipped her jeans and stepped out of them.

  He tossed his shirt aside. “Take off everything,” he urged.

  She complied, almost. “I never take off my bra.”

  “Why not?” He let go of the pole with his left hand to strain her hair through his fingers.

  She worked his cock with both hands. “I don’t have any figure at all without it.”

  “You must have nipples.”

  “True, but…”

  “Nipples are very sensitive,” he breathed out against her cheek. “Set them free.”

  His voice was low, deep, seductive, and while she worried she’d be sorry, she unfastened her bra and gave it a toss. When he slid his fingertips over her breast, she gasped with the unexpected thrill.

  “See, I was right, wasn’t I?” He leaned down to lick her left nipple and suck it tenderly. He blew across the tight bud to add a sudden chill.

  She wound her hand in his hair. “Do that again.”

  “My pleasure.” He moved to her right breast and twirled his tongue over the nipple’s proud pink tip.

  She sighed as he sucked and lapped and blew to make her shiver. “We ought to hurry,” she murmured.

  “Why, when our elevator is trapped between floors. We might be forced to stay here for hours.” He slid his hand over her flat stomach and down through the soft curls hiding her slit. He tugged lightly. “I remembered a condom this time.”

  “They ought to have a vending machine in elevators to supply them.”

  Santos nearly choked trying not to laugh. “There’s a business opportunity I’d not considered.”

  He’d gone commando, but she couldn’t push his shorts past his brace. She cupped his bare butt and whispered, “You have such a fine body. It’s a shame you have to hide it most of the time.”

  “I owe it all to my personal trainer.”

  “She must be very good.”

  “She’s incredibly talented.” He caught her mouth and held her close with his free hand. “You always taste so sweet.”

  She wound her arms around his neck and rubbed her breasts over his chest. He slid his hand between her legs, and she widened her stance to welcome him. They moved together so naturally, so easily, and she loved every second of it. “Is this one of your old standards?”

  “It’s rapidly becoming one,” he slurred between kisses.

  She breathed in, and the darkness sharpened her senses to make his scent, touch and taste even more powerful. It was far too good to last, and knowing it wouldn’t, her eyes stung with a threat of tears, and she blinked them away. She whisked her hand under his balls and felt him jump.

  “Do that again,” he murmured.

  She did. He was already so hard she saw no reason to wait. She found the condom in the pocket of his shorts and ripped it open. She ran her knuckles up his belly. “We’re going to use this before I get carried away.”

  “If we must.”

  She rolled it down his cock slowly, deliberately taking her time to sheath him properly. She hooked her leg over his hip to open herself fully. He teased her with the tip of his cock, circling her clit and sliding along her dripping wet slit with a self-control that amazed her. She guided his hand to push him into her, but he went slowly, withdrawing and surging with a taunting rhythm. She bit his shoulder, but not hard, just a nibble and thrust her hips against him.

  He froze at sounds in the hall, leaving her aching on the rim of release. She moved then, rocking him against the door. He tightened his hold to keep her still, but she twisted to carry him over the brink with her. She clung to him as he pulsed into her, riding his pleasure as well as her own. Surrounded by an inky darkness, tucked away from the world, it felt so deliciously wicked she ached all the way to her toes.

  “I’m lost,” he whispered in her ear, still within her.

  “We’re in your closet.”

  “Not that kind of lost.”

  She understood perfectly and held him tight. It wasn’t just sex to him either, but she wouldn’t spoil the moment with needless talk. When she could bear to, she broke free. He shucked off the condom, and she helped him pull up his shorts. She buttoned the button. “Don’t you dare turn on the light until I’m dressed.”

  “I wouldn’t embarrass you.”

  She kissed him hard. “Good. Remember that.” She felt around by their feet for her bra, found his shirt and drew it over his head. He tweaked her nipples with his thumb, and she batted his hand away. “That’s not fair.”

  “Why not?”

  “It just isn’t.” She bent down again and found her panties and sweater, but her bra wasn’t lying close. She donned the panties and sweater, and the soft knit rubbed her tender breasts and made her gasp.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked

  “Not a thing.”

  She got down on the floor and found her jeans. Relieved to again be almost fully clothed, she pulled them on. She reached for the string, and the closet shone with too bright a light. “Sorry.” She combed her hair with her fingers and pulled the elastic from her wrist. Her bra had landed on the shoulder of one of his suits, and he handed it to her.

  She stuffed it into her pocket. “Thank you.” She reached up to pat his hair into place. “You look great, as always.”

  “Thank you. Sex gives your cheeks a pretty blush.” He kissed her lightly again. “Now it
smells like sex in here.”

  She hoped the scent lasted forever. “This is your closet. Go out first.”

  He reached for his crutches. She saw him wince.

  “Oh no, did I hurt your knee?”

  “No, it hurts enough on its own, but I feel too good now to care.”

  “You shouldn’t be suffering. Maybe you need a stronger pain killer.”

  “You are better than any drug.” He turned to open the door and stepped into the hall. “Come on out, there’s no one here. I’m not going to be able to make it downstairs and back up. Will you please tell Tomas we’d like to eat dinner in my room?”

  “I’m not sure I can navigate the stairs either, but I’ll give it a try.” She was halfway down the stairs when she looked down and saw her nipples peeking through the knit of her sweater. She quickly turned around and hurried to her room to put on her bra. Santos had gone to his room, and she rapped lightly at his door before looking in.

  “Why didn’t you tell me to put on my bra before I went downstairs?”

  Santos reclined on his bed, holding his guitar. “Was something wrong?” he asked innocently.

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t notice how it looked.”

  His grin gave him away. “Maybe I did, but I’d promised not to embarrass you.”

  “You are a veritable prince.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  She wished she had something to throw at him but closed his door quietly and went to speak to Tomas.

  Tomas insisted upon serving multiple courses, and Julian carried each one upstairs on a tray. Santos had stayed in bed to rest his leg, and Libby sat at a small table pulled close to his bed. There was a sweet potato soup topped with a dollop of sour cream that was so good she hummed through every spoonful. “Would Tomas give me some of his recipes if I asked?”

  “He might. He’s very fond of you.”

  “I don’t want to take advantage.”

  “He wouldn’t see it that way. Do you like to cook?”

  She swallowed the last drop of soup. “I’ve been meaning to learn. I suppose all his recipes would be in Spanish. Maggie could translate them for me. She might want to try some of them too.”