Lucio felt himself break into a hopeful smile. Thousands! ?Todo es posible! He laughed. I will make the most of these ninety days. Then I will win the Erskine. Is everyone with me?
Piers produced a dubious glance.
Sydney bit down on the inside of his cheek.
?Excelente! Lucio said. I will begin immediately. I already have my first client.
CHAPTER 5
It had been easy to find her address, and Lucio used the brass knocker on the front door of the stately home. He heard a high-pitched yapping, followed by the slap of feet on a hard interior floor. A shadow passed across the frosted glass of the door just before it opened. And there she was.
Ginger Garrison was barefoot, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, wearing a pair of black stretch yoga pants and a tight, nipple-friendly piece of stretchy fabric Americans referred to as a sports bra. Despite the name of the apparel, when Lucio looked at that bodywith its pale peachy skin, rosy red-painted toenails, the flat abdomen exposed by the low-waisted tightssports were the last thing that came to his mind.
We meet again, Senora Garrison, Lucio said. He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips, closing his eyes to savor for the instant his lips met her flesh.
She ripped her hand away.
Surprised, Lucio straightened. I have come at a bad time, yes?
The beautiful Ginger laughed. Her little doga puff of white with two tiny black marble eyesbegan sniffing Lucio's shoe. May I pick it up? he asked, hoping that his obvious love of animals would soften whatever irritation he may have caused by arriving unannounced.
HeatherLynn is not an ‘it.' She's a ‘she.'
Of course she is, Lucio said, feeling the now familiar hot shiver moving through his body. Why did this happen when in this woman's presence? Or even when he thought of her? Why did he seem unable to prevent it?
Please come in.
Lucio did as he was told. He stepped inside the house, immediately aware of the shimmering dance of light from a skylight high above the foyer. It was a modern house, obviously custom-built, but had an agreeable warmth to it.
He returned his attention to the dog. Ah, of course! I now see the full scope of HeatherLynn's feminine beauty.
Right, Ginger said.
Lucio bent down and scooped up the hairball. He tucked its squirming body close to his side, realizing he hadn't held a dog since his tia Luisa used to shove her mutt with the runny eyes at him whenever he'd visit her at her home in La Valenciana. He hoped to the Host he was holding Ginger's little pet correctly.
Why are you here? Ginger was either not happy to see him or very successfully masking her pleasure. When she crossed her arms under her breasts, it only served to further enhance the mounds of creamy female flesh. He could not help but glance at her stupendous cleavage. He worried he may have just involuntarily licked his lips.
Lucio?
He looked up from his trance. I am sorry, guapa. Did you say something?
Ginger shook her head and returned her arms to her sides. It almost looked like she smiled, but he could not be sure. Why did you come here?
Ah, yes. The dog had begun to lick his hand, a sensation Lucio found vaguely disconcerting, so he put the animal back on the floor. I have come to discuss your portrait.
Ginger laughed again. You don't say?
Yes. This is true. I would like to discuss appointment times, your preferences for the backdrop, and the costs.
When he got nothing but a blank stare, he continued. Also, if you would be so kind, I would appreciate your sharing the names of any potential clients, friends or associates with pets you believe might be interested in my services.
You're kidding, right? Ginger balled up her fists and propped them on her perfectly formed hips.
Lucio's mouth went dry. He was coming unglued just looking at her, smelling her, feeling the energy vibrate between them. The desire to touch her was so great he feared his arms would begin to shake, revealing the effort it took to not reach out for her, pull her to him, and devour her with kisses.
It boggled the mind. When had a woman ever unnerved him so? When had a woman ever driven Lucio Montevez to such distraction?
And when had he ever put a woman's welfare before his own pleasure, the way he had that night he delivered Ginger Garrison to the guesthouse door? He'd shoved her panties in her hand and sent her to bedalone! The Host! What had happened to him?
No joke, senora, Lucio managed. Current circumstances require that I branch out into pet photography, after all. I would be honored to have you as my first client.
Disappointment fell upon Ginger's beautiful face, clouding her hazel eyes. It was if a fire had been extinguished. She looked down and away in embarrassment.
Lucio tried to sort out what was happening here. Could it be Ginger had been hoping he'd come to cash in his rain check? The thought thrilled him. The thought scolded him, too. He was no good for this beautiful lady. There were many women who might recommend him as a lover, but of all the women in all the world, there was not one who would recommend Lucio Montevez as a partner. One of them had even tried to destroy himand might yet succeed at her revenge.
Unless you had other interests, he said.
Ginger didn't look up right away. And in those precious suspended seconds, he studied how the light from the skylight high above glimmered in her rich auburn hair and caressed the apple of her cheek. While he waited for her to say yes or no, he watched how the light gave contrast to her plump bottom lip and cast a shadow around her downcast eyes. He wanted to photograph herin this precise momentand he itched for the heft of his Nikon in his hand. But he wanted to capture more than just the play of light and shadow on a beautiful woman's face. He wanted to capture the woman herself. And he ached for the familiar feel of her body in his arms.
Ginger looked up then, a pained expression on her face. She shook her head. Of course I don't have other interests. Let me get my calendar.
Lucio grasped her arm as she turned to go. Her head snapped around and her eyes burned into his. He saw it againthe same innocence and vulnerability he'd seen in her expression that evening in the garden. It had softened his heart thenand it stabbed his soul now. He wondered how a grown woman could have come so far in life and yet remain untouched in this way.
Then suddenly, he knew. It could only be one thing.
You have never known a man's love, have you? Lucio heard himself blurt out the words, and was surprised by the brutal honesty in them. But he knew he was on to something. You have never been deeply and truly loved for who you are, have you?
Ginger's lips parted. He could see her pulse banging in her throat. She said nothing, but her eyes filled with moisture and her cheeks with pink.
What was the meaning of this strange desire? It was as if Lucio had no control over his thoughts, his words. It felt as if he were guided by a force outside himself, beyond his understanding. He stepped close, held open his arms, and let the beautiful woman fall against him. She rested her head against his chest as she trembled in his embrace. Lucio's hands roamed all over the warm skin of her bare arms, her exposed lower back. His hands went to the base of her neck. He felt her body press closer to him, her firm thighs push up against him in need.
Clearly, it would not be enough to provide comfort to her. He wanted her. He had to have her. So Lucio raked his fingers through her hair, tore out the ponytail holder, and tossed it to the floor. In one motion, Lucio grabbed a fistful of all that fiery hair, tilted her head back, and claimed her mouth with his.
The power in that kiss left him dazed. It felt as if he had pulled her very spirit inside him and delivered his own into her. Their bodies melded. His heart melted. They collapsed to the tile floor, where he cradled her in his arms.
It was not enough. He could not get enough. She was hot and sighing and pushing her breasts against him as they kissed with such abandon that Lucio felt a jolt of confusion. Where had this kind of need originated? Why had he never felt it before? Lucio tho
ught he'd experienced all that sex had to offer!
God. Take me. Ginger's breath was hot against the side of his neck. I want it. Now. Please. Please don't make me wait another day for you.
She clawed at his clothing. He helped her unbutton his shirt, open his belt, pull off his trousers. With two smooth and economical movements, he had the sports bra up over her head and the exercise pants down around her ankles. She lay there before him in the glow of the skylight, wearing only a pair of the flimsiest, palest pink panties he'd ever seen. He could see her red curls pushing up against the crotch, her juices already darkening the thin strip of material. That thin strip was the only thing between him and her opening.
Joder! he hissed roughly, dragging his lips over her belly, her thighs, back up to her breasts and hard nipples. It was a beautiful realizationthe soft pink of her nipples matched the soft pink of her panties. She was beyond beautiful. Her hands were in his hair.
Without warning, her body seized under his touch. She called out his name. She had come from the merest attention. He hadn't put his lips to her sex and just barely sucked on her breasts, yet she'd come in a fierce shudder.
How deprived she must be.
Suddenly Ginger sat up, her back straight, horror claiming her face. Get up. Now. Get your clothes. Go!
What?
She jumped to her feet, pulling up her pants. It was over! For some reason, Ginger had taken herself from him, and now she was ordering him to get dressed. He had not been intimate with many American women. Briefly, he wondered if this were a particularly aggressive type of foreplay.
Get in the living room! Go! Here, take your clothes! Hurry! Ginger shoved him toward the sitting room.
Lucio stumbled through the room and around the corner to the dining area, where he stood behind the wall as he dressed. This was not foreplay, he decided. This was him getting the boot.
What is wrong? What is going on? Lucio had seen women change their minds, most certainly, but never with this conviction and speed.
The little dog began to bark. Ginger had already pulled on the sports bra and was tucking her hair back into its holder when the front door flew open.
From his hiding place, Lucio saw two tall, towheaded young men. One opened a bloody mouth to show missing teeth. The other opened the folds of a towel, which contained the teeth.
In the car. Now. The boys did as ordered. Ginger raced to the kitchen and back to the door in seconds. In one hand she carried a pair of athletic shoes and in the other a purse. Clenched in her teeth were a set of keys. With a panicked glance in his direction, she slammed the door behind her.
She was gone.
The dog toddled up to Lucio and sat at his feet, the very tip of her little pink tongue protruding from her tiny lips.
Is it always so unruly here in the Garrison home? he asked her. Is this your natural habitat?
She wagged her miniature feather duster of a tail, her tiny black eyes filled with anticipation.
I suppose this is where I show myself out, yes?
Lucio strolled through the sitting room and back to the foyer, the dog at his heels. He spied a telephone table near the door, where there was memo paper and a pen. He jotted down the phone number for Rick's Pacific Heights home and this message: I will be waiting for you.
He moved toward the door, almost stepping on the little white dog, which had placed itself between him and the exit. It was almost as if she wanted him to stay.
Is there something you need?
Those must have been magic words, because the dog popped up and toddled away, looking over her shoulder to make sure Lucio was following, which he was. Admittedly, he knew very little about domesticated canine behavior, but this struck him as unusual.
The dog went into the nicely furnished sitting room, and made her way to the far corner, near the fireplace. On the floor was a bed. A dog bed. Lucio cocked his head to make sure he was seeing what he was seeinga creamy cafe au lait satin pillow, tufted. A matching little blanket, also satin. A bed ruffle, pleated. All on a raised platform about six inches off the carpet. The dog waited.
I am at a loss, little one, Lucio said. What is it I'm supposed to do?
With that, the white fluff ball put her front paws on the edge of the pillow, glanced over her doggie shoulder, and waited. Lucio had seen that look many times in his lifeit was the look of a woman who expected a door to be opened or a chair to be pulled out. There was no mistaking it.
Lucio took a few cautious steps toward the dog. He leaned down and picked up her hindquarters and scooted her onto her throne. The poofy-headed creature circled a few times before she settled in, resting her pointed little nose between her front paws. Then she turned her face away and closed her eyes.
Lucio laughed softly. He knew the meaning of that universal gesture, as wellhe had just been dismissed.
He let himself out.
There were so many reasons Ginger was unhinged that she hardly knew where to begin.
Joshua was in oral surgery because his twin brother had punched him in the mouth, knocking out one top and two bottom teeth. Their fight had been over Larry, who was not answering his cell, his pager, or his hospital or private practice line. All the while, his nurse hadn't a clue where he was.
And there Ginger sat, outfitted in a sports bra and a bare midriff, an ensemble she hardly felt comfortable wearing at home with the blinds drawn, let alone in public. The man three chairs down didn't seem to mind her clothing selection, however, and Ginger clutched her bag to the front of her body, trying not to smear dried blood on the orange leather.
Worse yet, Ginger could not stop cringing at how she'd let a hot rush of insanity rule her the second Lucio Montevez walked through her front door. She'd never had such a ferocious sexual response in her life, including the night on the porch. Apparently that was just the way it was with Lucio Montevez. All he had to do was show up, and Ginger was stripping down. No one had ever done that to her. Just as no one had ever looked into her eyes and instantly known the truth.
You have never known a man's love, have you ?
How could a stranger know this about her when she'd only recently acknowledged it to herself?
Ginger fidgeted in the plastic waiting room chair. It was horrible to admit, but it bothered her that she'd left Lucio in her house. Alone. She wasn't thinking he'd steal the big-screen TV, necessarily, but it did highlight an unsettling reality: She'd almost had sex on the floor with a man she didn't know well enough to leave in her home unsupervised.
What the hell was I thinking?
As all of this tumbled around in her mind, she had to wondermaybe Lucio really was what Mrs. Needleman had warned her about. Maybe Lucio was who she'd warned her about. Maybe meeting him really was more than a coincidence.
Whatever it was, it was wild, and it scared her. She decided to call Mrs. Needleman the first chance she had.
Ginger squeezed her eyes against the throbbing in her head and waited for the pressure to subside. It didn't. But when a familiar melody began wafting down from the waiting room speakers, her eyes slowly opened in comprehension. The universe had chosen a soundtrack for her mental breakdown, and it was the Muzak version of the Clash's Rock the Casbah, which meant that, in addition to everything else, she'd just learned that her high school prom theme song was old enough to become elevator music.
She laughed out loud. It was an unstable kind of laugh.
Are you okay? Jason sounded concerned.
No. Of course I'm not okay.
I'm really sorry, Mom.
That was the twentieth time her son had apologized in the last hour. Ginger tapped her fingertips against her forehead, hoping to loosen the frown lines that had probably become canyons in the last hour.
She turned to Jason, prepared to give him the lecture of a lifetimehe'd just caused grave injury to his brother! But when she looked at him, she saw how his blue eyes were filled with remorse. He looked almost meek. Frightened.
How could such a s
weet boy be capable of such rotten behavior? Where had she gone wrong?
He'd been a joyous and happy baby, sleeping through the night by eight weeks, always wanting to be cuddled. Then he became a sociable toddler, fearless among the little ones in his playgroupa natural leader. Next, he became a high-energy kid with a passion for baseball, like his father. And now
Ginger studied Jason's face and saw the same boy she'd always known, intelligent and defiant. But he no longer liked to be hugged. There was blond stubble on his chin and upper lip. He was no longer interested in being a leader. And his passion for baseball ended last year, when Larry berated him for not making the traveling team.
According to the family counselor they'd been seeing, Jason needed to develop strategies for identifying and handling his emotions. In Ginger's opinion, her son's problem was far simpler than all thathe was so angry with his dad he couldn't see straight.
I didn't mean to hurt him this bad, Jason whispered. But he drives me nuts with all his insane whining about being presidentI'm sick of it, Mom! You've got to get him to shut up about it. I can't take it anymore.
Ginger wouldn't go so far as to call it insane, but she did know that Josh had the tendency to grate on a person's nerves. He'd come home from his fifth-grade social studies class one afternoon and announced that he planned to become president of the United States. Everything he did from there on out, he said, would be with that goal in mind. Ginger and Larry had smiled and encouraged their sweet, idealistic son, knowing his attention would soon divert to cars or computers or the newest Xbox game. They'd been wrong. When Josh began working on the costume crew for his school's theater productions, they were thrilled, thinking maybe he'd found another passion.
He hadn't. Joshua stuck to his plan, making sure that every day was a steppingstone toward his eventual role of commander in chief. He'd joined the debate club. He'd volunteered for local, state, and national political campaigns. He'd helped with voter drives and the bloodmobile and environmental projects. And though he was now only in tenth grade, Josh had collected a hundred college catalogs and designed a complex spreadsheet comparing course offerings, Washington, D.C., internship opportunities, and famous political alumni. It made Ginger's head spin.
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