by Mia Zachary
Her belly gurgled again, offering a solution. An old adage proclaimed that the fastest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, so she’d wake him with a nice breakfast. But what should she make? She usually just poured herself a bowl of chocolate-frosted sugar bombs.
Beignets and café au lait—a little taste of New Orleans. She used to watch their cook make the square doughnuts for her as a girl, but she was pretty sure about the recipe. Draping the blanket back over him, she carefully leaned over to brush a soft kiss on Emelio’s cheek. He murmured something in response then continued to sleep.
In the kitchen, Stevie quietly opened and closed all of the cabinets until she found a couple of mixing bowls and a frying pan. Once she located the main ingredients in the pantry, she dropped a package of active yeast and a bottle of cooking oil onto the island countertop.
Okay. She remembered this part. She stirred the dry yeast into some hot water, then turned on the stove burner and added a couple tablespoons of oil to the frying pan. That’s as far as she got before running into a problem. Not being a gourmet cook, she wasn’t prepared for the choices Emelio’s pantry forced her to make.
Was she supposed to use all-purpose or self-rising flour for the beignets? She figured it was the self-rising since the donuts were supposed to be big and fluffy. But did she need Ten-X sugar or confectioner’s? And what the hell was raw sugar?
Passing the stove, she noticed the oil was sizzling and reduced the heat under the burner. She dumped six cups of flour into the largest mixing bowl, raising a cloud of soft white dust in the process. Then she remembered she needed milk. But was it buttermilk or condensed milk?
Damn. This was why she ate cold cereal for breakfast.
She pulled the carton of eggs they’d bought yesterday out of the fridge and grabbed the regular whole milk since it was all they had. The first egg was ruined when she crushed the shell into jagged fragments and it dripped onto the countertop.
She’d only blended the first four cups of flour into the yeast when her arm started to get tired. Tossing the wooden spoon into the sink, she opened and closed more cabinets, looking for an electric mixer. She needed to hurry because she’d forgotten to add cinnamon to the thick batter.
“What the hell…?”
At the sound of his voice, Stevie dropped the mixer on her foot and yelped in pain. Turning, she saw Emelio stare in horror at the plume of black smoke unfurling from the burned oil. In two steps, he reached the stove and yanked the pan off the heat.
He started to say something then stopped when he looked past her shoulder at the island. His features took on a strange expression while he glanced from her to the counter and back. Color warmed his face, his mouth twisted in a funny way and his eyes had a glassy sheen.
“What’s growing over there?”
“Oh, nooo!”
Stevie hobbled to the huge mess oozing out of the mixing bowl and onto the countertop. The batter had risen—and kept on rising—taking on a life of its own. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes and she fought hard to keep them from spilling over while she filled the sink with hot water and dish soap.
“It was supposed to be beignets. I wanted to surprise you, but not like this. Don’t worry. I’ll clean everything up.” She looked over at him and that’s when it happened.
Amusement danced in his hazel eyes. A muscle quivered in his jaw and a little dimple appeared beside his mouth. His lips stretched until the corners turned up, slowly parting to reveal even white teeth. The grin continued to blossom on his face and then he burst into laughter.
Stevie’s tears dried instantly as she stared at him in wonder. My God, Emelio was smiling. It was a dazzling sight, so genuine and so irresistible. She’d thought he was handsome before, but with that smile he was devastating. Her heart turned over, spreading warmth to her already hot cheeks.
Holding his sides, he gasped for breath. “When you said you’d do anything to make me smile, I didn’t expect you to destroy my kitchen. It looks like a flour bomb went off.”
Stevie twisted her lips into a grimace and scooped the batter into the trash. After shoving the mixing bowls into the hot water, she tossed the spatula in after them. The soapy splashes on her T-shirt only made him chuckle harder.
“I’m glad you think this is funny. We’ll see how funny it is when you have to do all of the cooking from now on.”
“Come here, Stevie.” Emelio walked over to her side, still grinning. Taking one hand, he drew her into his arms and held her gaze as he slowly reached up. But instead of the caress she’d expected, he made a brushing motion. “You’ve got flour on your face.”
Her shoulders sagged and she dropped her forehead onto his chest, shaking her head in defeat. “Not a good morning.”
Emelio’s warm fingers touched her chin, encouraging her to look up at him. The humor in his amber-green eyes had been replaced by something else, something more. His melodic voice held a deep emotion when he spoke.
“Thank you.”
His mouth descended on hers in a kiss that was unexpectedly tender. His lips glided over hers like a whispered promise, giving and asking nothing in return. She drank in the sweetness of his kiss, and felt the warm glow of happiness spreading through her heart. He held her closer for a tight hug and then stepped back.
Emelio playfully planted a smooch on her nose before moving toward the refrigerator. “How about I fix us another breakfast.”
She glanced up at the wisps of smoke still hanging in the air. “How about we get dressed and go out to eat?”
“That’s not really a good idea.” He pulled the eggs out again and chose a steak from the freezer.
Stevie’s forehead furrowed. “Why not? We’re perfectly safe here in Naples.”
“Rule number one of ‘real’ investigative work. Never assume that you’re safe anywhere.” He set the food down and looked over at her. “I talked to Alex a few minutes ago. He sent Jason and Rick over to your apartment to investigate. There were several hang-ups on your answering machine and the building super said some guy was looking for you last night.”
She closed her eyes briefly, clenching her stomach as she slowly exhaled.
“Somebody called the office this morning, too, asking to speak to either one of us. They refused to give Tiffnee a name or say what they wanted. Braga’s sending people out to find us, Stevie, so we’re not going to take any chances.”
She curled her hand into a fist, her fingernails digging into the palm as the familiar anxiety skipped along her nerves. She couldn’t stay locked up in the house. She couldn’t. Stevie tried to hide her dread behind a show of bravado.
“You really think Braga is going to walk up to us at a sidewalk café? Maybe he’ll jump out from behind a clothing rack in one of the shops.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest, an uncompromising look in his eyes. “I’m not willing to risk your life—”
“You said yourself that you never bring anyone here. You called this house ‘José’s place’ so I assume it’s in your other name. There’s no way Braga could track us down. So don’t tell me I can’t go out!” She knew she was being unreasonable, but another part of her, the part she’d paid dearly to save, protested vehemently against the idea of confinement.
Emelio’s tone became as carefully expressionless as his features. “I didn’t say you couldn’t go. I’m just strongly recommending against it.”
“Don’t do that.” She spoke from between clenched jaws as resentment coiled inside her, escalating her temper from annoyed to incensed.
“I realize this is frustrating and you don’t have any experience—”
“Don’t goddamn do that!” It was happening again. Her life was being controlled again. She stared at him through hooded eyes, shaking with impotent rage. “I hate that overly logical condescending tone, like I’m some recalcitrant child.”
Emelio remained where he stood, as if he thought a sudden approach would really set her off, and yet she sense
d him reaching out to her. “Tell me what this is really about.”
Verbalizing it would reveal how weak, how helpless and pathetic she used to be. In her nightmares, she still saw that house, the old rambling Victorian in Faubourg Marigny where she’d been trapped, suffocating in the confines of her fear. She had been too young, too damaged to know how to get free, certain that she deserved what she got.
She didn’t want Emelio to know. Then again, maybe if she explained, he’d understand why she wouldn’t tolerate taking orders or being restricted. Stevie pressed a hand against her stomach. “I couldn’t go anywhere—I had to ask. Whenever I did go out, Tom had me followed….”
His hazel eyes softened in understanding, but she turned away from his pity. The last thing she wanted was pity.
“I’m sorry, Stevie. But I’m responsible for protecting you and your safety has to come first.”
EMELIO’S VISION of a leisurely breakfast followed by a short walk along the beach had incinerated under Stevie’s aggravated glare. Given her history, it was no wonder the idea of being constrained in any way set her off. But he had to think about what was best for her.
He leaned against the doorway of the home gym and watched Stevie attack a training bag hanging from the ceiling. A half hour had passed, but her temper hadn’t subsided one bit. Even wearing gloves, her knuckles would be black-and-blue as hard as she was hitting the padded leather. No doubt she was imagining him in the bag’s place.
He stroked his fingers lightly over the fading bruise on his chin. That woman had a mean left hook when she was angry. Her gray-blue eyes, turbulent as a gathering storm over the Gulf, briefly met his in the mirror. If looks could kill…
Stevie altered her stance and delivered several roundhouse kicks. Emelio winced in sympathy as the bag took a direct hit to the side of its “head.” If he had been in its place, she would have decapitated him for sure.
As he continued to watch her, he experienced an intriguing blend of caution, respect and lust. She had changed into a zippered sport bra and spandex bike shorts that accentuated the firm curves of her bottom. The tight material left her arms and legs bare and left even less to his active imagination.
Like everything else she did, Stevie approached exercise with concentrated intensity. Her finely sculpted biceps and the lean muscles of her thighs strained as she worked off her frustration. He could hear her breathing, deep and ragged, as each powerful impact resounded against the padded leather. Her strength made her just a little dangerous and that danger was a complete turn-on.
A sheen of sweat glistened on her lightly tanned skin. Emelio’s gaze followed a trickle of moisture as it rolled along her graceful neck and over her chest to disappear between her breasts. The low neckline of her sport bra drew his attention to the taut peaks of her nipples. He swallowed hard and shifted to ease the pressure inside his nylon pants, glad that the loose basketball jersey he wore ended below his waist.—
“Hey, champ. Why not give the training bag a break and take me on instead?”
She pivoted with a smirk, her eyes darting down the front of his body and back up to his face. She held his gaze for a second, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. Then she unfastened her gloves and tossed them toward the weight bench behind her.
“The only place I’m taking you is down.”
He bared his teeth in a grin that was beginning to feel natural again, gladly accepting her challenge. If Stevie was looking to burn off some energy with a few hours of contact sports, he was willing to oblige. The air between them crackled with electricity born of equal parts antagonism and lust. They were both feeling edgy, making the spacious house feel way too small.
He pushed away from the doorframe and prowled toward her, deliberately infusing his words with innuendo. “Are you as good as you’ve led me to believe?”
She blinked twice at the double entendre, and then her plump lower lip curved into a Mona Lisa smile. She raked the tendrils of dark honey hair back from her forehead with both hands, a movement that thrust her chest forward.
“You have no idea how good I can be, chér.”
“Not yet. But I know I’m better.”
“Really?” She taunted him with an arched eyebrow and a whole lot of attitude. “Are you willing to bet on it?”
Emelio stopped mere inches in front of her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her lithe body, close enough to breathe the unique scent of her damp skin. He cocked his head to one side, the epitome of all-male arrogance, pitching his voice low and intimate.
“What do I get when I win?”
Stevie’s eyes flashed a brilliant blue, the storm having lifted to reveal competitive interest and carnal desire. She stepped forward so that her breasts lightly brushed his chest, tilting her head back to look up at him. Her husky answer was delivered in a sensual drawl ripe with promise.
“When I win, the prize is winner’s choice. And the winner takes all.”
God, what a woman. A band of tension throbbed in his groin. He wanted to be inside her more than he wanted his next breath. But for now, he simply wanted to enjoy her.
“Deal.”
When she offered her hand to shake on it, he braced his back leg and yanked her off balance. Stevie threw out her other hand as if to catch herself, then suddenly wrapped her arm around his neck. The choke hold was playful but she was exerting enough pressure to force him over. Not that he minded having his face pressed against her breast one bit. It was soft and warm and his mouth was watering for a taste…
“So, Emelio. What were you saying about being better? And here I thought you’d be a worthy opp—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he’d hooked one elbow behind her knees and lifted her into his arms. Stevie gave a startled yelp and loosened her grip on his neck just before he dropped to the mat in a modified body slam.
Flat on her back with a dazed expression, her moist lips parted invitingly as she tried to catch her breath. Unable to resist, Emelio leaned over to steal a kiss. Her body felt solid beneath his, taut but softly padded in all of the right places. She was hot in all of the right places, too, when he slid one leg between hers.
He slanted his lips over her soft, sexy pout then thrust his tongue inside to plunder the velvety warmth of her mouth. He reveled in her surrender when she threaded her fingers through his hair to draw him closer. Shifting his weight from his arms to his knees, he broke away just long enough to yank the jersey over his head.
He gave her a teasing grin as he pitched the shirt aside. “Some Jayne Bond you are.”
Stevie’s eyes narrowed when he reached for her again, a hint of gray clouding their blue depths. With a lightning attack, she hit him with a quick jab to the solar plexus. When he clutched his middle and doubled over, she gave him a shove that rocked him back on his butt.
“Hoo yah!” She bounded to her feet, arms raised overhead like a prize-fighter. Then she started doing a little victory dance that involved a lot of sexy wriggling and hip shaking. “You go, girl.”
Her triumph only lasted until he swept her legs out from under her and she smacked the mat again. With a sound that was half laughter and half growl, she scrambled up and lunged for him. Emelio put his hands on her waist and drew his knees in so that they rolled over sideways. Lying on top of her, he watched Stevie’s pupils dilate, saw the flash of desire in reaction to their compromising position.
At the same time, he was achingly aware of her breasts flattened against his bare chest, his erection pressing the apex of her thighs. He felt her heart pounding and the quick gasp of breath on his cheek. A combination of adrenaline and pheromones surged through him, hot and urgent. Dios mio, was it possible to take her right through their clothing?
Stevie wrapped her thighs around his waist, locking her ankles behind his back. If he got any harder, he’d split his pants. Then she torqued her body until they rolled over again and she ended up on top, straddling his lap. When he struggled, she clamped her thi
ghs tighter until he lay still.
“I win, chér.” She gave him a saucy wink.
His voice was little more than a husky whisper. “Winner takes all. So take all of me.”
In the space of a heartbeat, she captured his mouth in a kiss that seared his lips. A moan escaped her throat as their tongues met and mated. She kissed him deeply, desperately, wordlessly expressing how much she wanted him. The way she arched her back and wiggled on his lap drove him nuts.
Emelio slid his hands along her waist, felt the satin texture of her skin, felt her quiver at his touch. He reached between them to unzip the bra top, freeing her for exploration. Without breaking the kiss, Stevie managed to slip her arms out of the garment. Then she sighed against his mouth as he cupped the weight of her perfect breasts in his palms.
He brushed his thumbs over her nipples until they beaded into sensitive pebbles. Then he rose up to take one into his mouth. The flick of his tongue on the engorged flesh made her quiver, gasp and press closer as he suckled each breast in turn. Stevie cradled his head in order to capture his mouth for another kiss. Her bare torso molded to his chest and he let his palms glide over the lean muscles and smooth skin.
He pushed his fingers beneath the elastic band of her shorts so he could explore the contours of her backside. Alternately rubbing and squeezing the pliant flesh, he flexed his hips, circling his arousal between her thighs. Her tongue darted in and out and around his mouth, urging him to a faster rhythm. Her skin was hot beneath his hands and the squirming became frantic.
Stevie was on the verge of coming but damned if she was going over the edge without him. “I’ve got to have you, lady. But I need to get something first.”
She reluctantly pushed back on her heels. Breathing hard, her face flushed with color, he saw that her eyes were slightly glazed and the irises had darkened to cobalt. He felt a Neanderthal surge of pride knowing that his woman wanted him as badly as he craved her. With one hand on his knee for leverage, Emelio got up to strip and find some condoms.