Love Over Lattes

by Diana A. Hicks

  “Okay, honey. I’ll see you Friday.”

  I ended the call, tears blurring my vision. Mom would never say it, but she’d been silently hoping Max and I would come live with her and Dad in a more permanent capacity after graduation. Her dream was my nightmare. I was twenty-four years old. Moving in with my parents would be a major step back. I’d be stuck in Casa Grande, a town where I’d always be the girl who got knocked up her first week in college. My muscles tightened as I pictured their looks full of pity and disappointment, as I remembered all those months I spent hiding in my room.

  Moving in with my parents wasn’t an option. I had to keep moving forward. Even if that meant lowering my standards a bit. Okay, maybe a whole lot. I regarded my list and added a comment to item two.

  2. Make a list of new rental prospects. Include apartment complexes.

  Then I added a final item in huge letters.

  7. Pick a home for Max.

  Chapter Two

  We Were Strangers

  Cole

  I rubbed my hand against the front of my T-shirt, fighting the urge to walk over to the woman sitting in the corner of the coffee shop. That long dark hair of hers spread on the table, a thick curl touching her bare knee. What’d happened to make her cry like this? No, I couldn’t care about that. Today’s not the day my resolve to stay away from her crumbles.

  “Would you like another water?” the barista asked, standing next to me.

  “Sure. Thanks.” I handed her my cup and followed her back to the register. I needed to get out of here before I did anything stupid like talk to Valentina—the name embroidered on her laptop bag. The name suited her. Crossing my arms, I leaned on the counter, stealing another glance at her.

  She’d found her composure and played with a long tress as she wrote in her notebook, her pretty brown eyes still wet, high cheekbones red and blotchy. To my disappointment, the dimple that’d appeared when she was on the phone was gone. When she let go of the strand of hair, it bounced and wrapped itself around the swell of her breast. My nerve endings stirred, and my pulse beat hard. I stepped toward her.

  “Here you go.” The barista touched my arm, something between a pat and a caress. I turned to face her as she offered me the water.

  “Thanks.” I took the cup from her and headed for the door. I had to get out of here. The last thing I needed right now was more female problems. Was she making a list?

  Don’t get involved.

  Wasn’t curiosity the thing that killed the cat? Great. Now I was comparing myself to a damn cat. Pirate would appreciate that. Useless cat. Valentina could deal with her own goddamn problems. I had my own. Plenty of them. I blew out air and dashed out of the coffee shop. I was an asshole for not offering her a bit of kindness, but letting her be was the right thing to do.

  Lately, everything I touch turns to shit.

  When I reached my car at the end of the block, I stuffed my hand in my pants. “Fuck my life,” I said through gritted teeth. My key was gone. I punched the entry code in the car keypad and climbed in. I looked everywhere for the damn thing, in between and underneath the seats, and even in the trunk. Nothing. I made a mental list of where I’d been since I parked. There were only two places.

  The fancy by-invitation-only gym I’d joined last year stood at the end of the parking lot. With a bit of luck, not that I’d had much of it lately, I’d dropped the key there and not back at Cafe Triste. I let my head fall back and took a deep breath just as my phone rang for the tenth time this morning. I answered it without looking at the screen. “What?”

  “ ’Bout damn time you answered, man,” Dom, my lawyer and best friend, said.

  “I was busy.”

  “Or maybe you thought I had bad news. No, man, just wanted to check in on you. I’m leaving New York in the morning. We’ll talk when I get there. Okay? Sorry it took so long. Had a lot of crap to take care of before the move.”

  After more than six months, I’d finally talked Dom into coming to work for me. If anyone could get me out of this goddamn nightmare, it was him. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “Don’t mention it. Which reminds me. Did you get Bridget’s latest bullshit proposal?”

  “Hmm.” I pinched my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. I’d seen yet another legal envelope sitting on the mounting pile of mail in the kitchen, but I didn’t bother to open it. They were all the same. One thing was clear to me—this divorce would cost me everything I’d worked so hard to build. Breathing through my mouth to make the tightness in my chest go away, I curled my hands into fists. “No, what do you think?”

  “I think she’s a conniving, coldhearted bitch.” He paused on the other end. “But you’re talking about the proposal. Well, I think it’s bullshit. The question you need to answer is how badly you want this woman out of your life.”

  “I want her out of my life in the worst way possible.”

  “Okay. I spoke with her lawyer and made it very clear that you were done conceding to her…because you are. Can we agree on that? No more Mr. Nice Guy. For now, she’s agreed to let you keep your house.”

  “I don’t give a shit about the house. She can have it all for all I care, but not my company.”

  “None of this was your fault, man. Can you get that through your thick head? Stop saying she can have it all. This is exactly why you’re in this fucking mess. Just like you, all she wants is CCI. You made it easy for her when you walked out.”

  “I needed distance from her. You know that.” When would this be over? “And I didn’t walk out. She convinced the board of directors I wasn’t fit to run the company in my state. They voted in her favor when they saw pictures of the cottage.”

  Goddammit. My muscles tensed, and I slammed the heel of my palm on the steering wheel. What would it take for Bridget to let go of the company? A lot of people depended on me and the success of CCI. How long before she ran it into the ground just to spite me?

  After a long pause, Dom cleared his throat and said, “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to put this on you. She does have a damn good case. Don’t get discouraged. Now that we know exactly what she wants, we’ll be able to figure this out. For now, don’t talk to her, and for Christ’s sake, don’t let her in your house. Or you’ll lose that too. I’ll call you when I land.” He hung up.

  Drawing a slow, steady breath, I rubbed my forehead and hit the ignition button. Nothing happened. I climbed out of the car and headed for the gym to look for the key.

  The receptionist greeted me. “Mr. Cole, welcome back.”

  “Hi again, Sam.” I tapped my fingers on the counter. She ducked her gaze, blushing. I smiled to ease her nerves. “Any chance someone turned in a BMW key in the last couple of hours? I seemed to have misplaced mine.”

  “Let me check for you, Mr. Cole.” She took off.

  I paced the front lobby, and then it hit me. I knew exactly where I’d dropped the damn key. It fell out of my pocket when I picked up Valentina’s trash. Damn it.

  Sam came back. “I’m sorry, sir—”

  “Yeah, I know.” I spun and reached for the door. “Thanks, anyway,” I said over my shoulder.

  I stood at the corner, waiting for the light to turn green. It was past eight, but Valentina was still here. On the other side of the coffee shop window, she sat at her table, writing furiously. How did she do that? Fifteen minutes ago, it looked as if her whole world was crumbling around her. But now she was focused, scribbling away as if her life depended on it. I crossed the street and shouldered the door open.

  The key lay a few inches from her sandaled, pedicured foot. Even her feet were pretty. I raked my hand through my hair, cursing under my breath, my gaze moving up to the short ruffle skirt tucked between her legs, revealing a muscled thigh. I swallowed. This was getting way too close to the fire. Maybe I should get the barista to help me look for the key. A polite girl like her would never refuse. Then it would be easy to point her in the right direction and…. What the fuck am I doing? Talking to Valentina coul
dn’t hurt anything. All I had to do was keep it brief, explain I dropped my key, and move on. Better to get it over with quickly. I was already late for a day of doing nothing.

  I marched to her and kneeled at the edge of the table to pick up the key. Anyone spying on us would think I was trying to look up her skirt. She certainly thought so. When I peered at her, she had those big brown eyes trained on me. Her full lips, red and swollen from crying, formed a perfect o.

  Oh, sweetheart. My heartbeat picked up the pace, and blood rushed to my toes and fingers. Just like that, with one look, she washed away all the bad. How did she do that?

  As I balanced on my knee, her eyebrows came together in a frown.

  “I dropped my key.” God, I sounded like an idiot.

  She nodded and scooted her chair back. I had an odd urge to grab her leg to stop her. Women normally didn’t run away from me. What the hell? I rose to my feet. Her eyes followed mine until her long neck and smooth collarbone were exposed. Sexy. It was my turn to take a step back. I placed my hands on my hips to keep myself in check.

  Our gazes locked, and I swallowed, feet glued to the wooden planks. “Hi, I’m Cole.” I offered her my hand. “Derek Cole.”

  Valentina arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. She wore no makeup, but her skin was soft and radiant.

  My fingers itched to touch her, give in, and… “I mean, my name is Derek, but my friends call me Cole.” That usually came out a lot smoother.

  “Nice to meet you.” She placed her hand in mine. Gardenias. She smelled like gardenias. “I’m Valentina de Cordoba.”

  Her hand was small, but she had a firm shake. Here was a woman who knew what she wanted, who wasn’t afraid. Why was she crying? The Spanish name explained her smooth, brown skin. But nothing more. Like the first day I saw her, a smile pulled at the corner of my mouth, and a blast of adrenaline rushed through me. A feeling I only got when I wrote code. I released her hand as if it suddenly turned into a hot coal.

  “Well, I gotta go.” I showed her my key. The universal sign for this is the only reason I came back. I had to go before I made a complete ass of myself and broke the only rule keeping my head above water right now—no attachments, especially of the female kind.

  “Good luck with your list.” I turned to leave.

  “I’ll need a little more than luck to get my house back,” she muttered, eyes brimming with tears.

  Fuck. Damn it.

  Through the window, a cloud rushed across the sky, covering the sun for a moment. Shit. This was a bad idea. I chucked any fantasy I’ve ever had about Valentina from my mind before I walked to the condiment bar and grabbed a couple of napkins. When I returned to her, I forced a slow gait, taking my time as I pulled the chair out, waiting for her to send me away. She gawked at me but didn’t ask me to leave, so I sat, with her bare knee inches from mine.

  “What happened?” I offered her the bunch of napkins. I couldn’t get involve and drag her down with me into this never-ending divorce, but that didn’t mean I had to be an asshole. Five minutes and then I’m gone.

  Unshed tears made her eyes look like a perfectly brewed espresso. Her hand reached for mine, her gaze focused on my fingers. As if she were afraid I’d yank the napkins away.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She took the napkins and pointed to her list, forcing a small smile. “I’ll find another one.”

  The fake bravado tugged at something in my chest. I understood the desolation I found in her expression well. But as much as I wanted to help her, I wouldn’t know how. Dammit. She’d be better off calling her mom back. Yeah, I’d eavesdropped before when she was on the phone. She had a nice accent.

  Tears rolled down her face again. She tipped her head down to hide them. A few drops fell on her flower skirt, while a couple scurried down her thigh. Please don’t cry, I wanted to say, but instead I glanced toward the door. She wiped her face on her cardigan sweater, tore the page off her notebook, and folded it in four. The creases on the paper were even and neat. You could tell a lot about a person by how they handled their personal effects. Everything about her was tidy and organized. She was driven.

  When she stood, she shouldered her computer bag and stuffed her list in one of the outer pockets. “It was nice meeting you, Derek.”

  I jerked to my feet. “Please call me Cole.” I shouldn’t have said that. We weren’t friends. We couldn’t be. A year ago, maybe. But now I would just hurt her. And she obviously didn’t deserve that. I rubbed my jaw, tapping my fingers on my lips. Valentina spun and headed for the door.

  My pulse raced, and something heavy settled in my stomach. She was leaving. If she lost her home, who knew when she’d be back to Cafe Triste? And I needed her here. I needed her to break up the days, to give me a reason to get up in the morning and leave the house. But she didn’t know that. To her, I was a stranger. We were strangers. She didn’t owe me shit. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I’d hit a new level of rock bottom and turned into a selfish asshole. Let her go.

  Biting my lip, I rubbed the back of my neck. “I have a rental you might be interested in,” I blurted out.

  She spun around, frowning, mouth slightly open.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Three

  The Cottage

  Valentina

  God, he had a sexy voice.

  Dumbfounded, I stared at him. Did I hear him right? He was offering me a place to live? Things never just fell on my lap. This kind of sheer luck didn’t exist. So what was the catch, Derek Cole? I continued to stare.

  He opened his mouth slightly and closed it, looking over my head toward the door, both hands on his hips. His T-shirt went up a bit. Oh, there it was, that patch of skin. It definitely looked smooth from where I stood. His full lips formed a smile before he took a step back. He’d changed his mind. Of course he did.

  “This is where you ask about the rental.” He peeked from under his eyelashes. Like a kid waiting for me to say yes to that candy he’d asked for. “Unless you already have other prospects.” He didn’t move, as if waiting for me to jump up and down and thank him for his generosity. This was by far the most uncomfortable conversation I’d ever had with a stranger.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Why not?” He swallowed hard, his expression blank.

  People in the coffee shop slanted glances our way. I didn’t really have a good reason for saying no other than my gut told me this guy was trouble. The last thing I needed was to fall for the wrong guy again. It was one thing to admire him from afar, but having him as my landlord would mean he could visit me. Hot landlords did that, right?

  A warm tingling sensation blasted across my belly and in between my legs. Derek Cole in my bedroom, tall and handsome, shirtless—now that was a sight. Why did I always end up there with him? Jeez. Wiping my sweaty hands on my skirt, I cleared my throat and lowered my voice. “I don’t even know you.” Wasn’t that the truth? I turned away from him, my chest aching.

  He leaned in to catch my words. His smell was intoxicating, a mix of body wash, lemon and verbena maybe, and manly sweat. He was in my personal space, and I didn’t care. The room had gone from frigid to hot, and I wanted nothing more than to take off my sweater, touch him.

  But I didn’t dare move. Instead, I balled my hands and hid them in the folds of my skirt. Breathing through my mouth, I said, “And you don’t know me. For all you know, I have ten people living with me.”

  “Good point.” He nodded, his face inches from mine.

  Okay, break it up. On three. One, two, three.

  “Thanks anyway.” I made for the exit.

  He grabbed my arm before I reached the doorknob. His warm long fingers on my skin sent another adrenaline-induced surge through me. I stood still, fighting the urge to turn my body to face him. An inch to the left and his forearm would brush against my breast. Bad idea. Terrible.

  “Wait.” He gave me a brilliant smile, straight white teeth, eyes a little puffy, as if he hadn’t slept much the night befor
e.

  Why? Nope. I didn’t care if he slept or not. Run, my gut screamed.

  “If you think about it,” he said, “you don’t know the other property owners either.”

  “Good point.” I looked down at his hand.

  After stealing another glance toward the door, he released me. I had to squeeze my fists tighter to stop myself from reaching out. He wanted to flee. I recognized the look on his face because I felt the same way. But for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why I was still here, basking in the heat emanating from this gorgeous stranger.

  He gazed into my eyes. “The property was built recently. It just needs a few touch-ups.” He waited for me to comment, but I didn’t say anything. “It’s about eleven hundred square feet, two bedrooms, one bathroom. With a bathtub.” He added that last bit as if that would seal the deal with me. Not all girls like baths. Running two long fingers across the stubble just below his jaw, he caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “What else? The kitchen is small, but the living room has good space and lighting. The cottage was meant to be an art studio. But I’m sure it will suit your needs.”

  I stifled a sigh. This cottage sounded like a dream come true. “Sounds decent.”

  We stood in the middle of the small coffee shop, near the door. Customers bustled in and out as the daily morning rush came into full swing. Derek sidestepped a woman to clear the aisle and let more people in.

  This close, I had to look up to keep eye contact. “Are you an artist?”

  “No.” He thumbed the palm of his hand. “It was built for someone else. But that person no longer has need of it. So I figured you could use it.”

  “You mean it’s not listed?”

  “No. Of course, it is.” He crossed his arms, his gaze on me. “I just meant that it might be something you could use. Even if you don’t paint.”