The Ortega Project

by Linnea Alexis

  Grace collected her tips and shoved them into her front pockets. She cleared away cocktail napkins and empty drink glasses in preparation for the next onslaught of customers’ orders.

  “Good evening, Grace,” a deep, masculine voice rumbled.

  Taken by surprise, she gasped and looked up from wiping down the bar.

  Roman peered at her through half-closed eyes, looking sexy as hell in black leather. He dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the bar.

  “Two Bud Lights. One for me and one for my friend, Erik.” He nodded at the stage where band members were busy setting up drums and amplifiers.

  Grace handed him two chilled bottles.

  “When’s your break?”

  “I’m not sure exactly,” she said. “It depends on how busy we are.”

  “I’ll check back.” He nodded at the twenty on the counter. “Keep the change.” Holding the bottles over his head, he wove his way through the crowd and climbed onstage to hand the band’s front man one of the beers.

  Roman did know the band, after all. “I’m impressed,” she whispered. “What other surprises do you have?”

  She wiped her hands on the sides of her jeans and picked up the money he’d left on the bar. She stuffed it into the full till and pocketed the change.

  The band launched into their first set and the customers rushed to snag the best tables near the stage. Roman returned and claimed a stool in her station. He set his beer on a coaster. A seductive smile curled the corners of his lips.

  Pleased he’d arrived alone tonight, Grace’s heart raced. “Where’s your posse?”

  “Not with me and that’s all that matters.” He lifted her hand and gently brushed his lips against her knuckles.

  * * *

  Roman

  * * *

  After Dark was closing. Roman sat at the bar and nursed a cup of black coffee while waiting for Grace’s shift to end. He stifled a smile and watched her interact with her co-workers. No doubt about it, she was a keeper. The woman had a blazing hot body and oozed sensuality. Studying her body’s fluid movement conjured up erotic fantasies about what he’d like to do to her.

  His cell phone rang, bringing him down from his cloud. Caller ID showed Alex’s name. What the hell does he want this time? He accepted the call and spun around on the bar stool, his back to Grace.

  Alex sounded off. “I only want to remind you to be careful and don’t let her pretty face be a distraction. Never forget who and what you are.”

  “That’s kind of hard to do when you keep reminding me.”

  “So you’re good?”

  “Good night, Alex.” He stared at his phone and contemplated hurling it across the room. Movement behind the bar caught his eye. The antique mirror above the back bar reflected Grace’s smoky likeness directly behind him.

  “If you need to leave, I’ll take a rain check.”

  “No way. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.” He stood and pocketed his phone. “Do you want to stick around here or go somewhere else?”

  “Anywhere but here. I’ve had enough of this place for tonight.”

  He helped Grace slip on her jacket, and her silky hair blanketed his hands. Heat rose in his body and filled him with the need to touch her. His fingers grazed her hair and face. Her tall, lean body carried the dizzying scent of jasmine and woman. Inhaling deeply, he grew lightheaded. “You smell delicious,” he whispered.

  Flashing her dimpled grin, she thanked him.

  He moved his hand slowly down to the small of her back and led her toward the exit.

  Jerry gave them thumbs up. “Have fun kids and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said, but the glint in his eye contradicted his statement.

  Roman draped his arm around her shoulders and brushed his thumb over her cheek. She leaned into his touch, making him smile. As he guided her toward the exit, he recalled the previous evening’s warning and decided to speak with the bouncer. “Last night. That fellow in the parking lot. Did he ever show up again?”

  Bronco shook his massive, shaved head. “He probably figured we were onto him. I doubt he’ll show his face around here any time soon.” He held the door open. “Good night to you now.”

  “Good night,” they replied in unison.

  Maybe the trespasser wouldn’t re-appear at the club. But deep down, Roman knew the man’s identity and his reason for being here. He also knew he would see him again under much deadlier circumstances. The old gentleman had better get in line because he wasn’t the only one searching for Roman and Company.

  Roman and Grace stepped into the chilly night air. His arm still around her shoulders, she hugged him around the waist. He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. The warmth radiating from her soft body made his skin buzz. He escorted her through the unlit lot to her parking space.

  “So how do you want to do this? We can leave together or meet there. It’s your call.”

  “How about we meet there?” she answered quickly.

  Despite his disappointment over her refusal to share a vehicle, he gently squeezed her shoulders to show he understood that she wanted to take it slow. Tonight he’d work extra hard to put her at ease. Making her want to be with him became his priority.

  “Got any place special in mind?” He usually took charge, but being new in town, he let her decide.

  Grace pointed to a neon sign across the street and a block down. “There’s a diner on the next block. Or would you prefer something a little fancier.”

  “The diner’s good.” He pulled her closer and wisps of her silken hair brushed against his chin.

  She unlocked her Nissan and opened the door. Before she had a chance to slip inside, he planted a chaste, tender kiss on her cheek. Encouraged by her responsive shiver, he kissed her neck. “How about we skip the main course and go straight to dessert?”

  “Hey.” She playfully pushed him away. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

  He couldn’t read her. Her kisses said ‘yes,’ but she held off. Had he gone too far? Maybe she wasn’t that type of girl. If not, he needed to find out. “I promise I’ll be a good boy.”

  “Not too good, I hope.”

  “Believe me, I can be very good.”

  She gave him a much appreciated come-hither look. “What’s that old saying, ‘Much ado about nothing’?”

  Her wiseass remark drew a low chuckle. “If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d say something inappropriate. But I’ll just bite my tongue instead.”

  “You do that.”

  A gust of wind blew strands of hair across her face, and he gently brushed them away from her eyes. Why couldn’t he stop touching her face? He saw heat in her eyes and his pulse quickened.

  For once, in a very long time, luck seemed to be on his side, giving him first chance to claim her. But he had to act fast before the mangy mongrels at the club made their moves.

  He held her car door open and she slid in behind the wheel. “See you at the diner. I’m parked around back.” He closed her door and backed away, grinning. With a spring in his step, he headed to his truck.

  Behind him, an engine revved. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed Grace’s car move toward him. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

  She pulled up next to him and rolled down the window. “Hey sailor, can I give you a lift?”

  He saluted. “Aye, Aye.” Without hesitation, he opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

  “Which way to your truck?”

  “Oh,” he blurted, disappointed she hadn’t changed her mind about them riding together. “Right around the corner.” He rested his arm on the back of the seat and noticed something in the side mirror that made his blood chill. For a better look, he turned around. Parked across the street and sitting behind the wheel of a dark sedan—a man. Watching them.

  Now that Roman had verified the priest had seen him, he made a mental note to call the Elder Council at the first opportunity to discuss various scenarios of how to eliminate the
threat once and for all.

  6

  After driving the short distance from the club, Grace pulled into the all-night diner’s parking lot at two in the morning. Roman parked in the space next to her. She couldn’t wait to show off her favorite after-work eatery.

  When they stepped inside the small, busy diner, loud sixties music blared and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. There were no empty stools at the counter. Customers were a mixed bag of college students, folks trying to sober up before heading home, and shift workers on their way to or from jobs.

  She held Roman’s hand and they snaked through the line of people waiting for takeout. Vicki, a tall, wiry, red-haired waitress, dressed in Khaki-colored jeans and a navy T-shirt, waved from behind the counter.

  “Hi, Vicki.” Grace waved back. She scanned the eatery for a place to sit. “I see an empty booth,” she said, and led the way to a red, vinyl booth in the back of the diner. She slid in first and faced the door.

  Roman sat across from her. “I’ve never been here before,” he said, looking around, “but apparently you have.”

  “Yeah. Just a few times.” She chuckled.

  With pen and pad in hand, Vicki arrived to take their order. “So Grace, what can I get you and your friend?”

  “My usual,” she said, without hesitation.

  Vicki glanced at Roman. “And you?”

  He shook his head. “Only coffee for me,” he answered with a half-smile.

  After giving him a double take, Vicki shrugged. “Thanks. One cup of fresh coffee coming right up,” she said and hurried off.

  Grace leaned forward. “If you weren’t going to order something to eat, we could have gone to a coffee shop instead.”

  “It’s fine.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

  A perky, college-age waitress rushed over. After pouring Roman a cup of coffee, she moved to the booth across the aisle.

  Waiting for her food order gave Grace a chance to figure out what made the hot guy seated across the table tick. To avoid the topic of relationships—and possibly Jake—she steered the conversations to safe subjects—movies, music, the club. She was ready to start boasting about her research project when Vicki set a platter of chicken strips and fries in front of her.

  “Here you go.” Vicki’s gaze flew to Roman. “You sure I can’t bring you something?”

  “Nothing now, but I might be interested in some dessert later.” His dark eyes twinkled.

  Grace gulped as heat rose in her face.

  “All righty then,” Vicki stammered, obviously catching his innuendo. She refilled his coffee cup. “I’ll check back in a few.” A man called her name and she headed toward the front of the diner.

  Grace feasted on chicken strips and fries, while Roman watched her and sipped his coffee. She stopped eating when she noticed him scrutinizing her every move. “Sorry, but I’m starving!”

  He didn’t answer and continued to stare.

  “What are you staring at?” she asked, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

  “I never noticed before, but you’ve got freckles.” He grinned.

  Was he for real? She shook her head and resumed munching on chicken strips, dipping them in ranch dressing. They tasted particularly good tonight. “I feel like a glutton eating in front of you,” she mumbled, mid-chew. She pushed a few fries onto a saucer and shoved the plate in front of him.

  He squirted ketchup in the center of the plate and swirled the fries around in the condiment.

  “Do you always play with your food?”

  “Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. It depends.” Without looking up, he continued stirring the red liquid with the fries.

  “On what?”

  “On how hungry I am.” He dropped the fry into the ketchup and met her gaze. “Like I told our waitress, I might be interested in dessert. And right now, dessert is beginning to sound better and better.” The corners of his lips rose in a wicked grin.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t hold your breath.”

  He chuckled and pushed the saucer to the middle of the table.

  Salty food made her thirsty. She tilted her head back and took a long drink of ice water. He stared at her and licked his full, sensual lips. Had she dribbled something? She grabbed her napkin, dabbed at her mouth, and surreptitiously ran it down her neck. A quick peek at the napkin showed no trace of food or water. She took another drink.

  “I don’t know much about you, Roman. Tell me about yourself. Your family. Your job.”

  “There’s not a whole lot to tell. I’d rather hear more about you.” He folded his arms and rested them on the table.

  “I doubt my life is as exciting as yours. I’m a transplant from Michigan. I’m an only child and a spoiled brat.” Did her giggle betray her by revealing her nervousness? “As I started to say before our order came, I’m working on my Master’s in Environmental Sciences at Irvine State College. Horticulture, specifically. Now it’s your turn.” She snatched a fry from his plate and held it up, letting ketchup drip onto the saucer. “Where are you from? Do you have any siblings?” After licking off the excess condiment from the soggy French fry, she popped it in her mouth.

  His eyes widened and he licked his lips. “Sorry. Would you repeat the question?”

  “Do you have brothers or sisters or any family in California?”

  “I was an only child and my parents passed away years ago.”

  “How awful for you.” She reached across the table and patted his hand.

  “They died a long time ago.” He glanced through the window facing the parking lot. A dark cloud seemed to settle over him whenever she mentioned his family, so she decided to switch subjects. “Where are you from?”

  “Argentina, originally.”

  His answer caught her off guard. “I didn’t detect an accent.”

  “I left years ago.”

  She ate another fry. “I heard you work in a research lab. What do you do there?”

  “I’m working on a classified project.” He stared out the window and shuffled in his seat.

  First his family…now his work. Why did her questions make him so jittery? She widened her eyes, eager to learn more. “Sounds interesting. What kind of project?”

  “It’s one of those ‘if I tell you I’ll have to kill you’ type deals. Sorry, but I can’t say more.” He twirled another fry in the ketchup puddle. “Ready to order dessert?”

  “Sounds delish,” she said, and smacked her lips.

  An hour later the restaurant started clearing out. Vicki made the rounds and refilled their coffee cups. An empty ice cream dish sat in front of Grace.

  Roman’s plate contained a dissected piece of cherry pie. During dessert he’d moved across the table and sat next to her. His arm rested on the back of the booth. He traced her jaw with the back of his index finger. “I had a great time. I don’t want to say good night.” He glanced at his watch. “Or should I say good morning?”

  “Maybe you won’t have to say either,” she purred. Her response surprised even her. But she’d grown comfortable being with him and hated their date to end.

  “Are you saying what I hope you’re saying?”

  “What do you want me to say?” she whispered and leaned in close enough to feel his breath on her lips. She grew dizzy with anticipation.

  He kissed her, taking her breath away.

  Roman slid out of the booth and waved Vicki to come over.

  She glanced in his direction and ended her conversation with customers at the counter.

  “Check, please,” he said.

  * * *

  Grace

  * * *

  An hour later, inside Grace’s studio apartment, vanilla scented candles and a Norah Jones CD set the stage for her to make love with Roman. Her seduction began by making out on the daybed. But as his lust intensified, Grace’s body stiffened and she pushed him away. She needed to breathe. To think. Did she really want to do this? Was she ready to move on to anoth
er intimate relationship?

  “What’s wrong, babe?” He ran his hands gently up and down her arms.

  She finger-combed her hair and shook her head. “I thought I could…. I’m sorry.” Deanna’s words rang true. She wasn’t ready. Getting over Jake would take time because she had never been with anyone else. Being desired by a gorgeous man with his arousal against her felt so good, so inviting—letting her know that he wanted sex as much as she did. Part of her wanted him to stop, but another part, just wanted—very badly.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  Yes. No. She bracketed his face in her hands and kissed him softly. The need to have him inside her was too strong. In total surrender, she pulled him closer and kissed him deeper, and when he parted his lips, she slipped her tongue inside. She loved the taste of him.

  His skillful fingers unzipped her vest and traveled up her back to unhook her bra. His large hands navigated between their sweaty bodies and he cupped her breasts, caressing them, running his thumbs over her hard nipples, teasing them. His kisses moved down her neck to her throat, making her moan. He did the same. Why couldn’t she resist this man?

  Roman whispered her name and his breath grew ragged.

  Wearing only a black thong, she lay on her back and parted her legs, giving him better access. Beginning at her knee, he ran his hand up the inside of her thigh. She sighed with need and spread her legs farther apart, and drew up her knees on either side of him. “Please,” she begged and moved beneath him. When his hand reached her center, he slipped two fingers inside her thong. “Yes. Right there.”

  * * *

  Roman

  * * *

  A cell phone rang. One of two cells he carried with him at all times. The ringtone identified his private work phone.

  “Shit!”

  “Don’t answer it.” Grace groaned and slung her forearm over her eyes.