by Sara Rider
His eyes threatened to go crossed as he scanned his inbox for the millionth time, when a new email popped up from Ricky. His brother was as subtle and relentless as a freight train, but he had enough charm to get what he wanted most of the time. Ricky had attached the bank contract for the loan. He’d also thrown in a few photos of the state-of-the-art equipment that Weaver’s clinic possessed. A fully equipped gym. A suite of mechanical traction machines. Multiple laser modalities.
There was no question Ricky needed the money, but he didn’t need any help running the clinic. He was also trying to give Alex an escape route from the mess his career was in. It killed him that even his family didn’t know what really happened all those years ago with Martin Daniels. And he couldn’t say anything, because the truth was no better than what they already thought of him.
Knowing he’d regret it immediately, Alex opened the collection of emails he kept buried in an untitled folder. The place where the daily emails from Martin were automatically filtered. None of them opened. They didn’t need to be anymore. The only thing in them was the subject line. The last one was from this morning. All it said was “1,134 days.” At least that asshole had been doing something right. But the question was, for how long? If he wasn’t ready, the stress of the Major Leagues would destroy Martin and everything he’d worked for.
Alex scrolled down through the last few months of emails, looking for any kind of sign or warning that he wanted to break their deal. Nothing. He wasn’t surprised. If Martin had been capable of true honesty, he wouldn’t have sunk them into that shithole four years ago in the first place.
This was why he couldn’t afford to let Jaime keep her secrets. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“How hard is it to buy underwear?” he called out, his patience wearing thin.
Jaime pulled the curtain back far enough for her head to pop out the side. “I spend ninety-nine percent of my time wearing boring black sports bras that feel like I’ve encased myself in cement. I want to enjoy this moment. If you’re bored, go back to the hotel.”
“It can’t be that hard. Choose a color, grab the right size, and bam! Done with enough time to spare to get a pizza and a six-pack on the way home.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. Go. You’re not going to miss anything mysterious. We’re going dancing tonight. That’s it. Not buying steroids. Not running an ironman race. Not participating in any weird secret government science experiments. Just dancing. You’ll be miserable.”
“Actually, it’d be a good way to observe your resistance and strength if you aren’t going to let me finish my assessment.”
She growled, lightening his mood for the first time that day. Despite what she seemed to think of him, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what she was trying to do. Too bad she underestimated just how stubborn he could be. It didn’t matter what kind of crazy she threw at him; he wasn’t going to cry uncle.
The saleswoman sauntered back into the fitting area. “Everything all right here?”
“Uh, I think I need a different size for—”
The saleswoman’s nostrils flared. “Nonsense. I have a perfect eye for sizing. Let’s have a look.”
She flung the curtain open, revealing Jaime in the pale pink bra he’d grabbed earlier. Only, instead of looking sweet and innocent like it did on the rack, the lingerie looked devastatingly sexy on Jaime’s curvy body. The delicate lace cupped her full breasts like they were putting them on display at a museum, sheer enough to give a teasing hint of her brown nipples. She caught his glance with her wide, startled eyes. Her lips parted slightly, like her surprise had stolen her words. The visual hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, dredging up all the intense and deeply inappropriate attraction he’d been trying to bury.
“See,” the saleswoman said while fondling Jaime’s breasts without inhibition and ignoring her yelp of surprise. “The fit is perfect.”
Sweat pooled at Alex’s brow from the blast of volcanic heat that had just forced its way into the room. He rotated in his chair and averted his eyes, but it was too late. Fighting his attraction to Jaime was like trying to crawl his way out of quicksand. The image of her in the sweetly innocent lingerie and a faint hint of a matching blush on her cheeks was seared into his brain.
He was still cursing under his breath when Jaime emerged fully clothed from the fitting room minutes later.
She let out a cutting laugh and patted his cheek as she walked by with an armful of lingerie. “If you thought that was too much to handle, wait till you see what I’m like at one in the morning.”
7
DETERMINED NOT TO LET Jaime out of his sight, Alex followed the women to four more stores over the next couple of hours. All shoe stores. By the time the sun set over the Miami skyline, Alex was actually looking forward to their next stop, if only for the promise of food and a stiff drink.
Thankfully, the bar they chose was a nightclub/restaurant combination, and since it was early, the women decided to have a meal before getting started with the rest of their night. The unpretentious decor, mainly hand-painted palm trees, rough white stucco walls, and fake tiki torches, reminded Alex of the bad theme parties from his college days. Cumin, lime, and faint beats of music invaded the air as the hostess seated them. The aromas and sounds weren’t exactly the same as what he’d grown up with, but it was close enough to tame his irritation and make him salivate.
The conversation between Jaime, Lainey, and Alyssa ping-ponged between shopping and soccer strategies. His mind wandered back to Jaime’s ankle. Given the type of shoes she was wearing, he probably needed to reconsider plantar fasciitis—a simple, straightforward injury to the connective tissue in the sole of the foot that is often caused by overuse of unsupportive footwear. From what he could pull out of her, the pain and stiffness was at its worst in the morning, which was in keeping with the diagnosis. God, it’d be fantastic if that ended up being the case. Get rid of the heels, follow a more consistent icing and stretching routine, maybe some aspirin for pain management, and she’d be as good as new.
Except he knew it couldn’t be that simple.
He had performed a first toe dorsiflexion the night he’d trapped her in his hotel room, and she didn’t react in a way consistent with plantar fasciitis. Besides, he’d dealt with that kind of injury hundreds of times in his career. It was something else.
“What do you think, Alex?” Jaime’s husky voice pulled him out of his thoughts at the same time she knocked her knee against his under the table. The three women stared at him with their game faces on. The look that relayed utter confidence they’d come out the winner.
His blank stare must have communicated the fact he hadn’t been paying a lick of attention. Jaime threw her head back and laughed.
“Come on, Martinez. Settle the disagreement for us. Which hotel on this trip had the best complimentary shampoo? Lainey liked the citrus sage stuff in Boston. Alyssa says it’s the lavender stuff in New York. I say it’s right here in Miami. That coconut stuff is yummy.”
“Uh . . .”
Thank god the server chose that moment to interrupt and take their orders. Settling on the classic ropa vieja was a heck of a lot easier than wading into the minefield Jaime had just tossed him. Alyssa ordered a plateful of plantains with so much enthusiasm, it sounded like she was announcing she’d just won the lottery. Lainey’s order was so complex and full of replacements that the server, who couldn’t have been much older than seventeen, looked to Alex with a panicked expression. Switching to Spanish, Alex asked the server to bring her a plain chicken breast and a side of undressed lettuce, eliciting a grateful nod from the kid.
“Show-off,” Jaime snorted, knocking his knee under the table once more. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, he could feel a spark of electricity shoot through to his fingertips.
“And for you, señorita?” the server asked.
She handed her unopened menu back to the server with a sexy grin that hit harder than a knuckle punch. “Surprise me.”
Alex shook his head, dangerously close to smiling. He was coming to realize that “surprise me,” for better or worse, was her motto in life. Her energy was so infectious, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to let go of all the stress and responsibility that weighed on him for one night. He had to give her credit for commitment, too. Most people he knew wouldn’t have dived into the whole fish, complete with skin, bones, and a gooey eyeball staring back, that was set in front of her with such gusto.
As they ate, dozens of people dressed in flashy clothes streamed past and down to the basement of the restaurant, where the dance floor was located. Even though it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet, the pull of the music was impossible to resist. They finished their meals and settled the bill before migrating downstairs to the heart of the action, snagging one of the last free, tall round tables.
“I can’t wait to dance,” Jaime said, practically buzzing from the heavy beat roaring through the large space.
“God, me too,” Alyssa added, swaying back and forth in her seat.
“Then let’s get shaking!” Jaime grabbed Alyssa’s hand and pulled her off the stool. “Hey, Alex, watch my purse.”
He caught the small black handbag she tossed at him before it smacked into his chest and threw it right back at her. “Watch it yourself.”
A shocked expression passed over Jaime’s face as the purse landed on the table between them, but was quickly replaced by a wry, curious smile. He had to admit that her plan to shake him off by subjecting him to an overdose of her personal brand of crazy was rather wily. But she’d made one pretty fatal mistake. There wasn’t a Latino walking this earth who could resist the delicate growl of Celia Cruz’s voice calling him to the dance floor.
He turned to Lainey, who was doing her best to make herself disappear into the corner, and offered his hand. “Come on. Gabe said you were taking lessons.” He pulled the tall brunette onto the dance floor with a quick spin and let the music take over his body.
“You’re not half-bad,” he said to her midway through the first song.
Lainey stopped counting her steps out loud long enough to look up at him and smile. “We’ve had six lessons already. I’m just starting to get the hang of it.”
Jaime must have figured out something to do with her purse because she and Alyssa were on the dance floor seconds later. Whereas Lainey was a bit stiff but had the steps down, it was evident Jaime had rhythm but no actual clue what she was doing. The poor sap who had asked her to dance struggled to lead her while she twirled around like the Tasmanian devil.
“Gotta admit, she knows how to have a good time,” Lainey said, titling her head in Jaime’s direction.
Damn. The last thing he needed was other people noticing how deeply Jaime had burrowed into his head. “It’s painful to watch,” he admitted as Jaime broke into the Running Man.
“Then go show her how it’s done. I can see that it’s killing you, and I want to grab some water anyway.”
Abandoned by his partner, he worked his way through the crowd and caught Jaime by the elbow just as she launched into the Sprinkler. He pulled her body against his and was nearly knocked on his ass by the smile, rich with unbridled joy, that spread across her face. “You’re trampling all over my culture.”
“Nah. I’m just tiptoeing through it. Frolicking at most.” She shimmied against his chest, making him groan with desire. God, he wanted her. But she was off-limits, so this was as close as he was going to get. He gripped her waist tightly, leaving no doubt that he was now in control.
“You’re nuts.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You’re the only person who would.”
She gripped his shoulder and urged him closer. Her breath tickled the skin on his neck as she spoke. “I had no idea you could dance.”
“I’m Peruvian. We learn to dance before we can walk.” He pressed his thigh against hers, forcing her to step backward. His pelvis rocked against hers, using their physical connection to communicate the steps. She picked it up almost instantly, like their bodies were perfectly in sync even when their minds were at war. But it was more than that. They just fit together.
Jaime must have felt it, too, judging by her uncharacteristically serious expression. She loosened her hips, letting his rhythm guide her. Layers of tension that had cemented onto his shoulders these last few months peeled off as they moved across the dance floor. It felt so good to forget his stress and lose himself in the music with a woman who felt like she belonged in his arms.
That was a dangerous thought.
When the song ended, Alex immediately dropped his grip from her body. “Now you know how to salsa,” he said gruffly before handing her off to another partner eagerly awaiting a chance.
With the call of the music too much to refuse, he found another partner from the random crowd of people in the tight space. The woman, who must have had a good twenty years on him, was an excellent dancer, but he didn’t feel that same sweet relief with her. His skin burned for Jaime’s touch.
He caught sight of her just a few feet away, laughing as a less-than-stellar partner guided her. Red, raw jealousy pounded through him. When the song transitioned into another, he caught Jaime’s hand and pulled her back to him. The smile she gave him nearly dropped him to his knees.
He dropped his forehead to hers and let the rhythm seep into him once again. Confident she could keep up with him, he pushed her further as the song climbed to a crescendo, adding complicated spins and dips that rivaled the efforts of the most serious couples on the dance floor.
They danced for at least five or six songs, eyes locked on each other, before Alex realized he’d lost track of time. It was only once Alyssa let them know with a quick tap on the shoulder that she and Lainey were ready to head out that the spell between him and Jaime was finally broken.
He let go of Jaime’s hand once more and followed the women back to their table.
“Sorry, guys. We’re practicing first thing in the morning, and Coach is going to ride us extra hard after losing three in a row. Lainey and I want to get some sleep tonight,” Alyssa said with an apologetic smile.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Jaime’s chest rise and fall in a silent sigh of disappointment. “Okay, let’s head back.” The Falcons had a pretty strict policy of using a buddy system at night when they were on the road. It was one of the team rules that Jaime had been responsible for instigating.
He hated to see the joyous glow disappear from her face. He loved the way it brightened her eyes and flushed her cheeks. “It’s all right. I’ll stay with Jaime.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? You want to stay out late?”
“I’ve still got a few tricks left to teach you.” He’d abandoned his plan of observing her ankle about five songs in, when it was clear she wasn’t lying about feeling as good as new. She was showing no signs of pain or limitation. That meant his choices were head back to the hotel and let the stress of his future consume him, or spend a few more hours preempting his insomnia by having a good time for once in his life.
That irresistible smile was back. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” She turned to her friends. “Text me when you get back so we know you made it to the hotel safely.”
They waved to Alyssa and Lainey and raced back to the dance floor like eager schoolkids. As the evening drew on, the lights dimmed to near blackness, imbuing the air with oozing sensuality and anonymity. The skin on her palm was softer than anything he’d ever touched. Keep it professional, Martinez.
IT WAS AT LEAST another hour before they were both exhausted and ready for some fresh air. He tried to let go of her hand as they headed to the exit, but she kept her grip tight. Salty, ocean-kissed air assaulted his nose as t
hey stepped onto the dark street. “We are so doing this again the next time we’re in Miami,” Jaime said wistfully, sneaking in another twirl beneath his hand as he tried subtly to tug free.
“If there is a next time,” he muttered without thinking.
Her hand stiffened inside his. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Things change. People get traded. Teams fold.” Staff members get fired.
He thought he saw a hurt look cross her face, but he didn’t have time to be sure because a cry of help tore the air. Alex whipped his head around to follow the woman’s voice. She was less than a block away, struggling to free herself from a much larger man who’d cornered her against a brick wall.
He felt Jaime’s hand slip from his. “Jaime, don’t—”
Too late.
8
JAIME WAS SO DAMN fast, she’d already taken off her shoes and held them in one hand as she sprinted toward trouble.
He caught up to her just as she had beaten the grabby asshole with the heel of her shoe and sent him running. The desire to go after him and give his knuckles some exercise burned in Alex’s veins, but he wasn’t about to leave Jaime’s side.
“You okay?” she asked the young woman she’d just rescued.
She nodded.
Jaime brushed a lock of hair from the woman’s face. “What’s your name?”
“Karina,” she answered in a shaky voice.
“You’re okay, Karina. He’s gone. Do you want us to call the cops?”
“No,” she said, rubbing the red, fingerprint-shaped marks on her arms. The tremulousness was still there, replaced with hard determination. “He’s just some jerk who got the wrong idea at the club. I want to go home, take a bath, and forget it happened.”