“Yep, Carla dragged me out of the office.”
Molly shook her head and winked. “Good girl. Did you meet anyone?” She could go for jury duty, and that would be mom’s first question.
Alana snagged a glass of champagne from a waiter to delay answering—she was a terrible liar—and rolled her eyes. “At the Clevelander? Hardly.”
Her mother waggled her brows. “You never know who you’re going to meet.” At Alana’s exasperated look, she said, “I’m never getting grandchildren, am I?”
“Probably not from me.” Alana gestured to the rest of the backyard. “You should probably look to Carla for that. Or Javi. He’ll probably get remarried. Or knock up a stripper.”
Her mother snarled. “That bitch ruined him. I wish she hadn’t moved to New York. Not much chance of a running into her in a dark alley here.”
Alana laughed. Her mom’s South Boston roots came out when it came to Javi’s ex-wife. No one in the family had seen Karrie’s charm. She looked the part, but it was as plain as day that she liked Javi for his money and what that could buy her. But the family had kept their mouths shut. If they’d said something about their suspicions surrounding Karrie, he would have eloped with her the second he could. And then stayed married to her because he was that stubborn.
The bubbly, blond former cheerleader had snowed Javi into believing that she was madly in love with him. She was also apparently in love with her trainer. Javi hadn’t even thought to get a prenuptial agreement because he was blinded by her show of wholesome, Midwestern goodness. So, he was paying alimony through the nose until she found another victim.
Alana had been in law school during their courtship, so she’d only met Karrie a small number of times. Javi had seemed happy with her. And now, she wasn’t going to touch this personal stuff with a ten-foot pole.
Molly looked Alana over again. “Carla picked that out?”
Alana looked down at her simple white sheath. “No. I picked it out from my closet. Carla made me buy it, though.” She hated shopping—thought it was a waste of time—but she tagged along with her sister occasionally. Carla’s great taste meant that she had a great wardrobe. At this point, it was almost a meditative experience to listen to Carla chatter about gossip while browsing the racks of a boutique in Coconut Grove. A kind of Zen and the art of shopping and sisterly duty.
Her father joined them and folded her into a hug. “You look good.” He held her shoulders and looked her over. In his early sixties, he was still a handsome man. He was tall, like her and Javi, with the dark hair and features of his indigenous ancestors.
Hector’s presence and swagger intimidated most people. No one in the Miami business community crossed him. Fortunately, she and her sister were his soft spot. “You look tired, mija. Do you need more time off?”
The last thing she needed was her daddy thinking he was working her too hard. “No, Daddy. I was up late last night.” At his grimace, she added, “Having fun.”
“You should really let your mother set you up so you can stay home and make babies.”
She barely suppressed an eye roll. Her father’s view on women and work was archaic. “Babies are gross. And then they grow up to be jerks like your children.”
“That’s not what I like to hear.” She treated him with stony silence and a cold stare. There was nothing that either of them could say that they hadn’t said before. Her father loved her, but he was a sexist. And she was tired of using his age as an excuse. The longer she stared him down, the more he seemed to get the point, that she was displeased with his attitude, because he’d taught her the tactic. He smiled and grasped one of her shoulders. “I have some new books in the library I want to show you.”
“Yeah, let’s look at those books.” Alana and her father had always shared a love of books. When he’d built this house, he paid more attention to the library—his office—than any other room. Her mom thought it was an excuse to lock himself away and work all the time. Alana understood that books held a great deal of meaning to her father. He hadn’t been able to afford books of his own growing up in communist Cuba, and the kinds of books he could read had been limited by Castro’s propaganda machine. When he finally had the freedom to read what he wanted and the money to buy any volume he coveted, he wanted a room to display that splendor.
Growing up, Alana had been quiet and bookish. She’d whiled away the afternoons in her father’s study, reading, while her brother and sister were out trying to drown each other in the pool.
Since she’d joined the family company after graduation, she’d expected their bond over books to mean something. But it hadn’t. Her father didn’t think she belonged in finance, and so Javi got all the credit while she did all the work. He’d never said it, but she knew that it was because she was a woman. He was traditional and conservative like that. He expected her to find a husband and have babies—preferably grandsons who could carry on the family business.
She’d prove to her dad that she could do anything Javi could do by working harder and longer. And she wouldn’t hang her brother out to dry to do it. It hadn’t worked yet, but any day now. She patted her dad’s arm, took a sip of her drink.
Alana didn’t have much time to ponder the future of her career because her brother entered the backyard. Molly poked Alana’s hip. “Be nice to Javi’s friend, Cole. He’s visiting, but maybe we can convince him to stay.”
She should really just get married and divorced like Javi so her mom would stop stuffing every guy that crossed the threshold into a husband suit. “Seriously, Mom?”
“You and Javi have been working too hard.” Champagne went down the wrong pipe and she coughed. Her mother was half-right. “You could use a good time. Maybe more.” For Molly Hernandez, a “good time” meant at least ten dates—preferably fifteen—before sex. She would not approve of her daughter’s stranger-danger one-night stand.
Her skin flushed when she thought about how much fun she’d had the night before. Her mother would have a heart attack if she knew because of the safety issues alone.
Javi enveloped her in an extra-tight hug. Even though he’d been acting like a dick lately, he still gave the best hugs. He’d changed when Karrie left him, but he was still her brother. He was hard and cynical, and it showed even in the way he moved. But he still loved her.
“How’s it going, Alana? Still working too hard?” Javi said.
“Yeah, you‘d know if you were at the office where you belong.” Her brother had bags under his eyes, evidence that he still wasn’t sleeping well. His face had thinned out and he looked gaunt. As much as she wanted to kill him most of the time, she hated that he was hurting. “I’ll get some rest eventually.”
“Right.”
His smile was clearly fake, and he gave her another squeeze before turning to introduce her to his friend. Alana’s mother, never one to let the opportunity to throw her daughter at a man pass, said, “Alana, come meet Cole.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Cole was the guy she’d fucked last night. Shit. The glass of champagne she’d drunk sloshed in her stomach and she feared it would come back up. She wanted a sinkhole to form and swallow her up. She wondered if she could make it to the bushes before he saw her and just hide there until he left. She was wearing white, so he would spot her through the foliage. Why couldn’t her parents have a green party instead of a white party for a change?
It was just her luck that it was him. And he was wearing the same smile he’d had when his face was between her legs and he did that thing with his tongue. She knew that she was probably bright red. Shit, she needed to stop thinking about his tongue.
Alana plastered on a smile and extended her hand, hoping that he wouldn’t out her. “A pleasure to meet you.”
And technically it was the first time they’d met; she hadn’t gotten his name last night. Her extended hand trembled, just a bit.
He still hadn’t spoken. When he saw her, his eyes had gone wide and then his brow fur
rowed. His dimples and the curve of his mouth flattened out. Women probably didn’t leave him in a lurch very often. He was probably the one who always kept things light. There were plenty of women who knew that a lot of sex and a little conversation didn’t equal commitment. And very few women would have qualms about taking whatever this man offered.
Madre de Dios, he was even better looking in the daylight when she hadn’t been doing tequila shots. He wore a white linen blazer and slacks, like several other men at the party. But he was singular in the way he filled it out. As she looked at him, she remembered touching the smooth skin over his well-developed shoulders, the tattoos, the small scar on his shoulder that made him even more roguish, and the steel of his eight-pack. His hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed with a very wanton woman.
Well, he sort of had.
Cole took Alana’s hand and his touch pulsed through her body, to where she could still feel him inside her. He turned over her hand and brushed his lips softly across the back, just like he had on the street the night before. If she hadn’t been blushing before, she knew she turned beet red when his lips made contact with her skin. Heat raced up her arm from where his lips touched her. Her entire body went soft, remembering how good he made her feel.
She was in so much trouble.
Chapter 4
Cole felt like they were alone in the crowded backyard when he clutched Alana’s delicate hand in his; he knew he should be listening to whatever Mrs. Hernandez—Molly—was saying, but he couldn’t take his gaze away from her dewy freckles and those damned witchy eyes. This was not good.
He and Javier picked up women together, and Javier was one of his closest friends. He would kick his ass if he knew the thoughts running through Cole’s head about his little sister. Javier had talked about his sisters a lot. And according to him, Alana was kind of a dork.
The woman standing in front of him was nothing like the girl his friend had described. She was perfect. His stomach turned when he realized that her family must not see what he saw. Maybe that explained the blushes and shyness. Damn, but he liked when her skin got all flushed.
At the same time, his hackles were up. He’d never had a woman walk out on him. Most of them, he had to push them out the door. All of them since the one who cheated on him while he was deployed, then publically humiliated him when he returned. He couldn’t forget about what happened the last time he got tangled up with a debutante.
He needed to steel himself against feeling anything for this woman, including anger. So, he tried to ignore her, even though he wanted to drag her into the house and find a dark corner to finish what they’d started the night before.
Fortunately, Javier seemed oblivious to the electric current between them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friend pick up a drink and flirt with one the servers. He was probably trying to get his hands on some greasy food, given the hangover that he’d complained about when they’d met up in the house. Apparently, Javier hadn’t seen his texts; he’d been “busy” with the girl on the cover of the January issue of Ocean Drive.
All things considered, Cole was glad they hadn’t met up. He might not like the fact that Alana had walked out on him, but he didn’t regret the night before.
The impressive backyard was filling with people. Cole was almost surprised to see so many people out and about this early on New Year’s Day. The Hernandezes must be known for throwing a great party, and the back garden was paradise. Nothing like the keggers folks had back home.
While he’d taken in the scenery, Alana seemed to compose herself and said, “Can I . . . ah . . . get you a drink? We have everything. I think my mom keeps a liquor distributor in business.”
He smiled, and she blushed again while she rambled.
“I can get my own drink, darlin’.” Her gaze darted from side to side, and she shifted her feet around as if she was about to make a run for it. Her family had gone off to mingle. Why didn’t she even want to talk to him?
“My family can’t know about last night. I’m pretty sure that my dad still thinks I’m a virgin. And if my mother gets a hold of that information, she will have us married even if she has to use tranquilizer darts to get us to the church,” Alana said. “And yes, I ran off in the dead of night. But did you really want me to stick around?” She raised one eyebrow. “I tired you out, didn’t I?”
“I would have called you had you left a number. You know you would have come running,” Cole replied. He put an emphasis on the word “come.” Her eyes flashed with something; she pursed her lips. “What are you mad about?”
Just when she narrowed her eyes like she was about to attempt to cut back at him, he saw her mother and sister headed over. The only thing she had in common with them was the freckles. Olive-skinned and curvy, Alana clearly favored her Cuban father. It was just as well to him.
“Carla, this is Cole Roberts. He’s visiting Javi from D.C.,” Molly said. He surmised that no one got anything past Molly, and she probably didn’t miss the tension between him and her oldest daughter. And, even though he doubted her mother would have them married if she knew about last night, he wasn’t looking to be in Molly’s sights as a potential son-in-law. He’d never be anyone’s anything-in-law. He’d tried and failed.
He extended his hand, and Carla ignored it. She tipped her face, and he obligingly went in for the customary Miami double-cheek kiss. He spotted Alana rolling her eyes out of his peripheral vision. He liked the hint of jealousy. Normally, a woman looking at him like he belonged to her would get his back up. But, from her, it felt good.
“Aren’t you handsome?” Carla looked him up and down like he was furniture she wanted to buy.
“Where’s Geoff?” Alana asked. She sounded annoyed, as though she was jealous. Her sister waved off the question with a flick of her wrist. He noticed the enormous diamond on her finger then. Must be the fiancé.
Taken or not, nothing stopped Carla from grabbing his arm while talking faster than an auctioneer. As she spouted off other guests that she needed to introduce him to, he couldn’t stop looking at Alana. She was fucking gorgeous. He had to purposefully avert his gaze. The way she fidgeted, she had to know he was imagining her naked.
Carla stopped talking mid-sentence and slid her sunglasses down her nose. Her piercing, gaze assessed the tension between him and Alana. The sisters made eye contact, and they had the kind of silent conversation that only siblings could have, all speculative and pointed glances. Cole stared at the sisters, looking for an opportunity to escape and said, “Ladies, I’m going to grab a beer. Can I get you anything?”
In unison, they said, “No.”
“It was nice to meet you both. I’m sure we’ll have a chance to talk more later.” He moved away, in search of alcohol. With Alana around, he was sure going to need it.
* * * *
Carla took off her sunglasses and glared at Alana. Her eyes sparked in accusation. Her sister had some sort of sixth sense with man stuff. Both Molly and Carla had an easy time with men because all men—young, old, short, tall, whatever—loved them.
Her baby sister would make the perfect wife and hostess, just like their mother. That was probably why Carla had been so easy to marry off. After being squired around town by half the eligible bachelors in Miami, Carla had recently settled on Geoff Madsen, one of the junior analysts who worked for HH Limited. Geoff was doing well enough that their dad hadn’t even threatened him with his antique musket.
Truth told, she was a little jealous of Carla. Not that her sister deliberately made her feel that way. Alana was less trusting and open than Carla. She was an introvert who preferred books to people on most days. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to socialize, but it took a lot out of her to meet new people and make small talk. She felt comfortable with her family and close friends, but they were a small group. This kind of day would put her out of commission for people outside of her circle for a few weeks.
Maybe that’s why she spe
nt the majority of her Saturday nights with row after row of numbers.
On the other hand, Carla was an open book. Alana envied her for that. And Carla would make no secret of the fact that she thought she should hook up with Cole. Or not.
Her sister practically dragged her into the first floor powder room. Alana locked the door because she didn’t want anyone walking in on the conversation that was sure to follow.
Carla pulled lip gloss out of her makeup bag and shoved it at her.
“He’s the guy from last night, isn’t he?”
“Are you some sort of sexual clairvoyant? How did you know?”
“I know all of the other guys you’ve slept with. And he is not like them.”
“No, you don’t.”
Carla didn’t say anything, but she looked from the lip gloss to Alana’s face until she opened it and smeared some on her lips.
“Better. Now, why’d you run off this morning? I would not kick him out of bed if he was eating crackers and smearing the crumbs on my boobs. But you might be in luck, he was remembering some very hot sex when he looked at you. Just seeing him, I’m not surprised he could ring your bell five times in one night...”
“It was only four.” She was embarrassed that she’d shared so many details about her night with Cole. But it was the price that she had to pay for Carla not telling their parents that she’d been out all night. They were all consenting adults, but she didn’t feel the need to shove what she was consenting to in their parents’ faces.
“So Geoff is not a five-time-a-night-guy?” Alana asked, wanting to get off the topic of her own love life.
“Please. Geoff is not even a five-minutes-in-one-night guy. I’m pretty sure he’s secretly gay. We have a great time when we hang out, but then he kisses me on the cheek and leaves me at my door.”
Shocking. Carla was usually all about recreational sex, and very open about her flavor of the month. It was out of character for her to date a guy who she didn’t think was “smokin’ hot,” let alone accept a proposal from one. “And you’re marrying him?”
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