It was a pleasant surprise to see he really was going to make me dinner. I watched him move effortlessly around the kitchen; he was fluid and at home as he pulled rare ingredients from cabinets and the refrigerator. Thirty minutes passed in an instant. I didn’t think watching a man cook could be so sensual, until now. God, I like a man that can cook.
He slid a plate of Spanish tapas with mussels in front of me. Incredible colors burst from an artist’s palette. Saffron yellow and charcoal roasted red with sprigs of dark forest green were delicately swallowed by midnight black shells resting on beds of purple leaves belonging to the sea. The aroma made me realize how ravenously hungry I was. He grabbed his plate and joined me. We ate almost in silence. Strangely enough I didn’t feel the need to talk. It must have been the mussels that I couldn’t stop shoveling into my mouth. He was the first to break the quiet when he pulled in a breath.
“So, how do you like it?” He let his eyes meet mine, looking for the answer. I swallowed the mouthful of food that I wanted to continue to taste and replied almost choking.
“It’s edible,” I teased.
“Edible?” he asked.
“It’s good.” I played flippant. I knew full well our banter was stirring the same desires that he ignited within me.
“Just good?” he played back.
“It’s exceptionally good. Better?” I held his attention and then dropped my eyes and stabbed at another mussel.
“Yes, and I’m glad you like it. It’s my favorite dish to make.” I watched him pick up a shell from his plate and tilt it deliciously into his mouth. His chin pushed at the space above while his glossy black hair stumbled back exposing his strong jaw. I wanted to be that shell, more so, the mussel that entered his mouth. I wanted to taste his lips, his flavor. I wanted to be consumed by him. His voice broke my private thoughts.
“Tell me about yourself, Lauren.” He pulled another shell to his lips and swallowed.
“What do you want to know?” I put my fork down on my plate; my head was swimming.
“Tell me about your family.”
I took a breath and began to say something when Roger popped into my vision; he was trying to contact me. It was perfect timing, even if for a brief moment I forgot I had the prototype in my head.
“I’m sorry, I really need to use the bathroom. Excuse me.”
I didn’t want to make eye contact so I focused on my hands. He pointed the way; I glanced back at him, knowing he was watching me walk away and I could feel his eyes boring into my back. I wondered if he was as aroused as I was.
I closed the bathroom door, turned on the water from the sink and I drenched my hands pressing them to my cheeks. I couldn’t stop the deep tingling urge to walk back out there and get lost in his universe. I needed to bring myself back down to Earth. This wasn’t what I was supposed to do. I took a couple of deep core groused breaths. I had to be ready to talk to Roger.
I left the water running; I wasn’t about to take the chance that Alejandro was going to hear any part of my conversation with Roger. He was dead to everyone but me. I wanted to keep it that way. I was relieved to hear his voice. The last time I heard him was by the warehouses in south city. I cleared my throat.
“Hi, Rog. Are you ok? Where are you?” I couldn’t find anything comfortable to do with my hands, so I forced them under the running water.
“I’m fine. I followed your mother, she’s home now. I’m heading to Marshall and Sam’s hotel. Are you ok?” he asked; his concern was present in his voice. I also didn’t forget that he could track me with the GPS on his computer. It was a shame that my computer didn’t reciprocate.
“I’m fine. It’s taking a little longer than expected to get Alejandro to talk. I will contact you the minute I find anything out. Stay on Marshall and Sam. And for our sake, don’t get caught.” I shivered, turned the water off and dried my hands.
“Lauren, don’t spend too much time there. You don’t know what he’s capable of.” He spoke like a protective older brother.
“I’m trying my best to get him to talk.”
“Just be very careful. He can be very dangerous. Stay alert.”
“Okay, Rog.” Our connection was gone. It is a good thing he couldn’t pick up on my emotions. How could he say that? Surprisingly, I was irritated at Roger. I was being protective of a man I barely knew. And I knew without a doubt, Roger had to be wrong … Alejandro wasn’t dangerous, he was misunderstood, and he was nothing less than a gentleman.
I found my way back to Alejandro’s marble island. I smiled at what he had done while I was in the bathroom with Roger in my head. He had cleared our dinner plates, refilled our wine glasses and had a small plate with a slice of cheesecake waiting with one fork.
“I thought you might like dessert?” he asked.
“Thank you.” My body moved into the stool next to him. Before I could take in what he was doing, he grabbed the fork, pushed it through the cake and held it in front of my mouth.
“I want to know what you think.” His words knotted my stomach and stopped my heart.
“About what?” I played back.
“The cheesecake I made.” He met my eyes, they were craving my answer.
I pulled my lips apart giving him a chance to ask again. He gently answered by sliding the fork to my mouth. I closed my eyes and allowed the flavor wash over me. He pulled the fork delicately from between my lips. I swallowed; it was delicious. My eyes rebound opened almost expecting the fork to be there again but instead his hand was moving toward my face.
This was starting to get dangerous. He was dangerous. I couldn’t tell if it was want or fear that kept swelling in my chest. He was touching me, and the problem was I really liked it. I turned my head and reached for my wine glass, his hand dropped to his lap. His eyes defeated.
“I’m sorry, I am being too forward.”
“No. I think—thanks for dinner—dessert, but I think it’s time I go to my hotel.” I started to get off of the stool and move from his island. My legs weak and my groin moaning, I needed to get out before I betrayed all that I had worked so hard to obtain.
“Lauren, stay and finish your drink. I will behave, I promise—please.” He held his hand over his heart and looked deep into my eyes.
I tried to look away.
“Ok, it will take time to call my car for you.” His hand cradled my elbow and forearm. “And besides I owe you a tour of my home.” He interjected guiding my face with his free hand to recapture my eyes. I was trying to settle the feelings raging in my body. He was touching me again. I was weak; I had to decide.
“Please, call your driver.” I forced the words.
“Sure.” He forced a smile and I melted. He slid his hand down from my chin and brushed my hair back from my shoulder. With that he reached for his phone and made the arrangements.
“He will be here to pick you up in twenty minutes.” My heart sunk and twisted wickedly. A lot could happen in twenty minutes.
I slid my wine glass back onto the black and rusty gold veined marble island before Alejandro subtly brushed his fingertips down the inside of my wrist and pulled me up from my chair.
“Come, follow me. I want you to see my favorite room.” His voice pulled and my body followed. His aroma filled my lungs, clean and just savory enough to create an ache deep within my belly.
We passed his modest living room where Spanish tile ruled under our feet and a hand carved armoire filled the warm space. Alejandro never once let go of my hand as he strolled me down the unassuming adobe-colored hall where oil paintings methodically hung on both sides of the walls.
“Here we are,” he said pushing open the only solid wood dark brown door. I stood there breathless, unable to move. He slipped his arm behind me and pressed his hand on the small of my back. I stumbled forward and was in the room.
Dimly lit sconces were situated every so often against pure black walls. Comfortable dark maroon loveseats formed a half circle and a gold travertine tile floor peeke
d out from underneath plush black area rugs. A massive white screen spread square on the wall. There was a picture framed in gold across the room. It was a black and white photo of a family in front of a movie theatre. The mother and father stood behind two boys, one much taller than the other. I moved closer and noticed the father had the same eyes as Alejandro. I scanned down to the boys; both with silly faces.
“Is that you?” I asked, breaking the silence between us. He came up behind me and pushed his finger toward the picture as he spoke.
“Yeah, those are my parents and that small one there, is me. It was taken in front of the Cine Doré in Madrid.” He smiled; his face froze as the time capsule in his mind unraveled. His eyes became distant as he pointed his finger to the other boy in the picture.
“That is my older brother Vicente. He was killed before we came to America.” I felt him exhale as the weight of his memories forced the air from his lungs.
A moment hung entrenched between us and I didn’t know what to do. He was lost in memories sparked by the photo in front of me. I didn’t turn around to him; I just let him speak when he was ready. I heard him tug a shallow breath in.
“I am sorry. I didn’t expect this picture to affect me like this.”
I listened with every ounce of who I was. My entire body was ready to react to his words. Truthful or not, he pulled me in when he took that shallow breath. Nothing mattered to me, all I craved was to be invited in, and all it took was a string of words he exhaled in one of the most private moments of his life. I listened as he let me in. “I remember we had packed all that day. My mother had asked Vicente to go pick up some cleaning supplies down at the market. She would never consider leaving our house dirty for the next tenants. I remember my mother was so excited to be coming to America. She was glowing that day. Her black hair was pulled up off her face. She smelt like lavender flowers.”
I turned to him. The agony was alive in his eyes as he relived a taste of his childhood.
“I was on the phone talking to my father when our neighbor busted through the door. I can still see his face; no color, no life, just nothing. He grabbed my mother as she collapsed to the floor. The next thing I remember—my father was standing in the doorway. I had heard much later that Vicente was trying to stop a fight between a woman and her husband—he couldn’t stand by and watch this happen. When he had tried to stop the man from hurting her—the man stabbed him—left him for dead.”
He shook his head like he was trying to force the thoughts away. I needed to say something. It was for my sake as much as his. Remorse welled in my chest as I watched him begin to crumble.
“I’m so sorry. That must’ve been the worst day of your life,” I said, consoling him. He looked at my hands dangling down by my waist.
“That was bad, but the day we left him buried in Spain and came to America—that was the worst.” His eyes closed and I watched the few tears that clung to his eyelashes spiral off into the space between us.
“I don’t know what makes me so comfortable with you,” he whispered, “like nobody I have met before.” His words pierced my soul and I found his eyes. I couldn’t contain the urge to reach up and capture the remaining tears that fell from his eyelashes.
“You’re dangerous for me,” I whispered under my breath as I brushed my damp fingers across his sullen lips. I started to pull my hand away from his face when he captured my arm. Delicately he brought my wrist to his sharp nose before he inhaled. Taken by his actions, every spark that collided within my body, collected down low in my stomach. He pressed his soft, warm lips against the taut tendons of my wrist as he spoke one convincing word …“stay.” My body reacted to his sated word, nailing me to the very cross I had pinned my burdens on for years.
Danger didn’t own any part of my consciousness at that point. I didn’t see the power-ravaged demonic man that Marshall saw. I didn’t feel the same fear that Sam felt earlier in the taxi. I saw an accomplished man emotionally broken and strangely enough, I felt the need to protect him. Make him whole again. What I didn’t want to admit was that I didn’t really know him at all. The warm spot where his lips rested ran cold as he pulled away. His unhurried eyes opened and met my gaze. I knew what I wanted, but it would have to wait.
“The driver must be here by now,” I forced out in a whisper as I pulled my arm from his hand.
I knew he wanted to continue kissing up my flesh until his lips were emphatically ruling mine. I knew it because, I, just a badly wanted to kiss him back. I wasn’t stupid, light-headed maybe from the wine, but not stupid; I had to draw the line, even when I knew my body had already crossed it.
“I will see you tomorrow morning?” Alejandro’s voice was rasp, captive by the visceral chemistry percolating between us.
“Yes,” I whispered, desperately trying to keep in control.
“Very good, then I will have my driver pick you up,” he answered, more collected than before.
I nodded, hoping a wordless answer was enough. He gave me a slight smile before he slipped his hand against the small of my back and led me to the foyer. Without anymore words, our eyes pinned against the curves and bends of each other’s bodies, we silently made our way out onto the front porch. He ardently walked me down the steps, leading me across the driveway, before he pulled open the limo door and made sure I was safely tucked inside. My eyes narrowed and casted upon his. He must have read my expression as questioning, because he gave me a slight shrug before he spoke.
“Lauren, I promised your mother I’d get you back safe.” He slowly smiled as he fashioned a wink that quite possible could have stripped me of my virtue if he hadn’t shut the limo door.
It didn’t take long to realize I was sitting in the same limo that brought me to his house, but this time it wasn’t as comfortable. I didn’t have someone to preoccupy my mind and the wine I drank earlier started to wear thin in my blood. My cheek didn’t let me forget the damage Sam inflicted earlier and my left side was throbbing. Either way, I was an exhausted mess. My heart wouldn’t let go of my regret for not staying while my mind fought to think about tomorrow. Problem was I needed to contact Roger tonight.
I focused on the cursor in the lower right corner of my eye that became part of the scenery in my vision. I pulled up Roger’s contact information. It didn’t take long before Roger’s voice permeated my head.
“Hey Lauren—did you’ find out anything?” he whispered, getting right to the point. The fresh memories of Alejandro pasted themselves across my mind; the sparks that rushed my skin when he kissed my wrist; the pull of his voice when he wanted me to stay, and the tears that wet my open hand as I collected them. I tried to force the memories away. I didn’t know the level of access Roger had to my mind with this prototype.
I cleared my throat, “No—nothing. But I’m working on it. What about you? Where are you?” My throat went dry and my voice sounded strange. I hoped Roger didn’t pick up on it.
“Sam and Marshall are staying at the Radisson Fisherman’s Warf. Been watching Marshall down in the bar. He keeps checking his watch like he’s waiting for someone—whoa, wait—what’s this?”
“What? Roger—what?” I asked.
His tone made the hair on my neck stand up. Roger started talking to himself; I had no choice but to listen.
“It looks like there’s someone here to meet him. Who’s that?—Ok, Marshall, this is interesting. What are you planning now?” he mumbled. Frustrated, I broke his dialogue.
“Who is it—what’s going on?”
“Lauren, gotta disconnect. I’ll contact you back—trust me.”
He hastily minimized me in his eye. Unaware I was still in his head, I was able to hear him talking under his breath, only too low to make out every word he was saying,—“black—huge—agent—database.” I needed to find out who was there with Marshall.
The limo came to a gradual stop and I jumped out, not taking any time to look back. I could only hear Roger breathing as I rushed to the entry of the hotel. The
minute I was through the front doors, I spotted the bar.
I pushed past a group of people working to pull a few of the tables and chairs together and searched for Roger. Sweat marched down my temple, tickling above my ear. I began to think Roger had already left. The bar clatter was too loud to listen for him in my head. I forced my fingers into my ears hoping to void the outside noise.
“What are yo- do- -ere?” I heard him but his voice was breaking up.
“What?”
“La-r-n, -at are you d-ng here?” His voice was still breaking up.
“I can’t hear you.” I was almost screaming.
“Look up.” Finally I heard him. I raised my head to meet his fierce eyes behind his black rimmed glasses. Seconds later I was across the room with him. I was shocked by his strength as he clutched my arm pulling me over to him. His nostrils flared and his face glowed red.
“What are you thinking? I told you I would contact you later.”
“Rog, you can’t do that to me. We are partners, remember? You’re the only person I can trust. Don’t forget that.” My words flew at him, betrayed and left out.
“I know we’re partners, but you can’t go running around right now, especially here. Who knows what would have happened if he’d seen you?” I watched his eyes shift from me to a spot in the room and back at me.
“Who’s he with?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Never seen him before,” he said as he pointed to a spot in the middle of the room.
I looked over and immediately recognized Terence Cummings. He was a magnificently built African American man with flawless dreadlocks reaching past his gigantic shoulders. “I know him. Oh my God! I know him—” The words tumbled over each other as they came out of my mouth. I only knew him in my head, but I knew him.
“He’s the guy in the file. You know, the file Sam uploaded. He’s in it. Oh my God, that is him.” The wave of familiarity brushed over my skin. The hair on my arms stood.
Prototype Page 10