The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set

by Michele E. Gwynn

  ANTHONY FISHED AROUND in his pockets for his keys. Locating them, he locked the door to his room at the pensión and hoisted his camera bag over his shoulder. The day was hot, bright, and all around him, shapes, colors, and textures begged to be photographed. Two weeks in Spain had provided a wealth of material for his next book on travel, but it had begun to get a little lonely. The women of Spain were beautiful, but his poor Spanish hadn’t helped him score any time with any single, sexy señoritas. He was both horny and hungry, and since his limited grasp of the language focused on ordering food and inquiring about prices, he knew it would be another day by himself with only good food to comfort him by day, and his hand to alleviate his ever-present lust at night. He opened the door to his rental vehicle and tossed his camera bag in the backseat. He unrolled the windows to let the heat out of the car, then put it in drive and maneuvered onto the road.

  Back in New York City, Anthony de Luca was a respected photographer, whose five books on global travel had set him up for life. He focused on places off the beaten path and always included information about the locals, their history, folklore, and odds and ends that are just not found in most travel books. De Luca’s descriptions were broken down into simple lay terms and then brought to life by vivid pictorials. Traveling also afforded Anthony many other photographic opportunities that, although he didn’t necessarily need the money, still lined his pockets further and increased his fame in the field. He was known to be quite the Casanova as well, leaving a trail of warm beds in his wake that quickly cooled as he generally never visited the same bed twice. He loved women, but that may have been the problem; he loved them too much, and they came far too easily for him. Anthony’s looks were only exceeded by his charm. His buff body was well-sculpted from his love of running and weightlifting, but the true allure was to be found in his big brown eyes and slow smile that ended in two deep dimples. A girl could drown in those dimples and not lift a finger to save herself. Many had done just that and suffered heartbreak and sexual withdrawal after the affairs ended abruptly.

  At the age of thirty-one, Anthony considered himself a confirmed bachelor, not ready to settle down and commit to one woman; not when the world had so many to sample. Besides, he hadn’t yet met the woman who could hold his attention for more than a week, and in his view, most were just as much of a bed-hopper as he was. They just didn’t admit to it.

  Traffic was congested and the pace in town was slow-going. He didn’t mind since it gave him time to get a good look at the buildings with their mix of architecture. He noted Moorish, Roman, early Gothic, all of which when put together were part of the beauty that was Barcelona. Nearing an intersection, Anthony’s wandering eye caught the sway of blue-jeaned hips walking ahead on his right. His gaze traveled up to her long, blonde hair. He watched as she looked left, right, up, and all around. A tourist, he thought. She turned right at the intersection and then skipped across the cobbled street to the restaurant on the other side. The jiggling of her breasts as she moved caused an answering twinge in his pants. Damnit! He made a split decision to grab a bite at that restaurant and maybe, if luck was on his side, he’d have her for dessert. A quick turn of the wheel to the right brought him into the side street and as luck would have it, there was a space available in which to park.

  He’d eaten at La Mediterránea the other day. The food was pretty good, and the atmosphere nice. He’d even taken a couple of pictures inside and one outside, but it wasn’t the food that had Anthony getting out of his car and walking across the street this time. It was her—the pretty blonde woman with the nice ass and bouncing breasts. Maybe she’s English-speaking. Please, God, let her be English or American. Even Canadian! Hopefully single too. Either way, a deeper hunger than food drove him physically to follow this woman.

  Sarah waited to be seated after giving her name at the hostess’ desk. There were two couples ahead of her and the restaurant appeared to be very busy. The scents of garlic, cumin, and other spices filled the air. Her stomach grumbled again. She sat down on the bench and looked around. Palms and bright, flowering plants were arranged neatly in the small lobby. Bamboo fans spun over the heads of the diners, and wait staff wearing black pants or skirts topped by white shirts, moved in and out of the crowd, delivering plates of delicious-looking food with efficiency. She couldn’t wait to get a plate of her own!

  “Smells good, doesn’t it?”

  Sarah turned her head and locked eyes with a very handsome man. “Pardon,” she asked.

  “The food,” said Anthony. “It smells good.” That slow, lady-killing smile spread across his face, ending in two deep dimples. “You’re American?”

  Sarah sucked in a breath, having felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. “Yes.”

  Anthony knew he was the cause of her stunned expression, having seen it on countless female faces over the years. He first discovered the devastating effects of that smile as a child. It had gotten him out of more trouble than he could say, but as a man, it had gotten him into trouble more often than he cared to admit.

  “Hi, I’m Anthony de Luca.” He reached out offering his hand.

  Sarah placed hers in his big, strong one and felt warmth spread up her arm and into her cheeks. Blushing, she replied, “Sarah. I’m Sarah Brown.”

  “Where are you from, Sarah Brown?” Leaving the smile on his face, Anthony noted her almond-shaped brown eyes, pert nose, soft, full lips. He let his eyes wander down her neck to her breasts, and lower in one of those quick sweeps men do that lets a woman know she’s been assessed, but without being creepy about it.

  Sarah watched his eyes skim down her body and felt everywhere his gaze landed. Heat spread throughout her stomach, replacing her hunger for food with a hunger far more primal. “I’m from Helotes, near San Antonio.”

  “Texas, huh?”

  “Sarah, your table is ready,” the hostess interrupted.

  “Oh! S-sorry. I have to...well...are you here alone?” Sarah stuttered as she stood up to follow the hostess.

  “I am.” Anthony waited, knowing she was about to issue an invitation to join her.

  “Well, I’m dining alone, and you’re dining alone. Maybe we can dine together?”

  Anthony stood up and looked at the hostess. In his limited Spanish he asked her if they could add another place setting to Sarah’s table.

  The hostess nodded and asked them, again, to follow her. “I’d be delighted,” he replied. He offered his arm and Sarah placed her hand through the crook of his elbow. Together, they followed the hostess to their table.

  Anthony was feeling optimistic about the day. A stray thought occurred; I never even requested a table when I walked in! He pulled Sarah’s chair out for her before seating himself. The hostess placed menus in front of them and informed them in her broken English that their waiter would be right with them.

  Sarah glanced at the menu, but her thoughts were on the gorgeous man seated across from her. Just look at those eyelashes! Gosh, a girl could melt like a stick of butter just looking into those beautiful eyes. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he was covered in muscles, either.

  The attraction she felt was immediate, making her feel both anxious and excited. Sarah wanted to know more about him. Something about his name seemed familiar, but nothing came immediately to mind. “What do you do, Anthony?”

  Anthony smiled. “I’m a photographer.”

  “You are? What kinds of pictures do you take?” Sarah leaned forward with her elbows on the table, causing her breasts to squeeze together, exposing her cleavage to his view.

  Anthony’s crotch perceived this action quicker than his brain could receive the image from his eyes. Blood pooled low in his groin and he took in a slow, steadying breath. It really had been too long since he last slid between the warm thighs of a beautiful woman. He felt like a schoolboy. “I take travel photos, mostly. I’ve written a few books on travel with illustrations, but I also do some commercial work for various businesses.”

 
Leaning onto the table closer to her, Anthony stared deep into her eyes, determined to make her feel his vibe and to gauge her response. She was lovely. The blush on her cheeks told him she was definitely feeling the heat he was putting out there. “And what do you do, Sarah from Texas?”

  Her lips parted to reply, but were so dry, she had to lick them twice before she could speak. “I’m a librarian, that is, I work at my local library back home.”

  Anthony watched her pink tongue make two passes over her lower lip before she spoke. Little Anthony twitched as his imagination flew to thoughts of her tongue performing that same maneuver in a more intimate setting. God! Never again will I go two weeks without sex. This is ridiculous. A fucking librarian has me panting like a dog at her feet for treats. A fucking librarian! Fucking hot librarian. I wonder if it’s true about librarians. I wonder...

  “And what do you do as a librarian?” Anthony reached his hand across the table to touch the gold bracelet on Sarah’s wrist. He seemed to be touching it in an absent-minded manner, but the sparks skittering all over her skin said it was deliberate. She didn’t mind.

  “I file, mostly. You know, check books out, check them back in, maintain files. That kind of stuff. It’s very boring.” Her thoughts wandered to all the nights she’d spent in the special reference section, curled up with an erotic novel, indulging herself in a room that had been full of random people only hours earlier. Now, someone real was touching her, not some figment of her imagination made up from a description in a book, and she was feeling more sure that by tonight, he would be touching her everywhere. Maybe sooner. The opportunity she’d hoped for had arrived, packaged inside a gorgeous, kind, flirtatious American man.

  “Hola. Soy Javier. What will you like to order?” A tall, young Spanish boy, around the age of nineteen, interrupted the conversation with an exuberant smile. He seemed completely unaware of the heat passing between the two Americans.

  “Oh! I haven’t decided yet. I barely glanced over the menu.” Sarah quickly picked it up and scanned the contents. It was written in Spanish and she couldn’t quite decipher the dishes.

  “Allow me?” Anthony threaded his fingers through Sarah’s, holding her hand. She smiled and nodded her consent. Turning to the waiter, he gave their order in his limited Spanish. “The lady will try the Rustido a la Catalana, and I’ll have the Paella. To drink, we’ll have the house Sangria, and two waters as well, please?”

  “Mucho gusto, señor.” Javier took their menus and left to put in the order.

  “What am I eating today?” she asked.

  Anthony bit his tongue to keep from answering inappropriately. “It’s a very tender veal roast cooked in white wine, rum, and it has a side of cut, cooked red potatoes and vegetables. I had it here the other day. It was very good.”

  “White wine, rum, and Sangria. Are you trying to get me drunk, Anthony?” Sarah attempted a flirtatious tease.

  Anthony chuckled, charmed by her question. “No, of course not. I just want you to enjoy a great meal, relax, and have fun.” He caressed her palm with his thumb. Warm tendrils of sensuous languor spread throughout her body. Who needs alcohol when he makes me feel drunk with one touch?

  “So, what brings you to Barcelona, Sarah?”

  “Vacation. My first, actually.” The waiter arrived back with a carafe of Sangria and a pitcher of ice water. He filled the water glasses and took his leave. Anthony reached for the carafe and poured the fruity red wine into Sarah’s empty glass, then filled his own.

  “Are you visiting relatives or friends here?” he asked.

  “Neither. I don’t know anyone here.” Sarah glanced down shyly. She sipped her Sangria, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat and soothe her nerves. This gorgeous man had her on edge. It was a good edge, but an edge, nonetheless. She looked up at him, taking in the natural wave of his dark brown hair. It was so thick. Her fingers itched to run through it and see if it was as soft as it appeared.

  “You just took off to Spain on your own? That’s pretty ballsy! I’m surprised your family didn’t try and stop you. It’s not entirely safe for a woman alone, you know?”

  Something changed in Sarah’s eyes. She suddenly seemed both sad and distant at the same time. “I don’t have much family anymore. My dad has been with his new family for a while now, and my mother passed recently.”

  Sarah’s vulnerability touched Anthony, arousing a protective urge within him. The feeling surprised him. He still wanted to fuck her, but that feeling softened with her admission. He wanted to see the smile return to her eyes, and he didn’t want anyone else to be the cause of that except him.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

  Sarah felt Anthony’s free hand touch the side of her face. His rough fingertips caressed her cheek before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He dropped his hand down to hold hers, now clasping both in his comforting grip. Her face burned from his touch and she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Thanks. It’s okay, really. She’d been sick for a long time; cancer. It was expected.”

  “Still, it hurts either way, expected or not. So, you decided to just take some time for yourself?” He had to add ‘gutsy’ to his assessment of her.

  “Yeah. I’ve always wanted to travel but couldn’t leave. I took care of her. But now, I can go anywhere, do anything, and there’s so much I want to do.” Sarah looked deep into Anthony’s eyes with her last statement.

  Anthony understood. She needed someone, wanted someone in that moment, and he was happy to oblige.

  Dinner passed in pleasant conversation and intense flirting. The candle on their table burned low, but the fire inside them roared to life. Anthony paid the check and together, they walked out of La Mediterránea. He offered a ride back to her hotel. She accepted, both knowing full well where this would lead. The hotel was only a few blocks away and the ride was short. Sarah felt shyness sweep over her but fought it long enough to ask Anthony if he wanted to come up.

  Anthony said nothing but drove straight into the parking garage. He placed the hotel’s ticket in the windshield, then got out and walked around to the passenger side. He opened the door for Sarah, offering his hand in an uncommon gesture of courtesy. It wasn’t that he lacked manners, but most of the women he bedded down with didn’t bring out this need to be chivalrous. He kissed her hand as she placed it in his. The smile that earned him was worth the effort. He closed her door, then quickly grabbed his camera bag out of the backseat. Once the car was locked up for what he felt would be the rest of the day into the night, he took her hand again and together they walked toward the lobby.

  It was the longest elevator ride of her life. Sarah was caught between extreme excitement over finally losing her virginity and extreme nerves. She liked Anthony. He was nice, educated, well-mannered, and sexy as hell. She was glad she’d ended up at La Mediterránea. She was also glad she’d put herself on birth control a month before her vacation. Still, she should have asked about condoms. She wanted to experience sex, but she didn’t want to suffer irreversible consequences. She knew there was a convenience shop in the lobby so if he didn’t have any on him, maybe they sold them. It would have to be addressed either way.

  They exited the elevator and walked down the hall to her room. Anthony placed his arm loosely around her waist and his hand slid to the small of her back, caressing in intimate circles as she dug the key out of her purse and struggled to get it in the slot. His hand was distracting, and it took Sarah three tries before she got the green light to open the door. He tried not to laugh at her obvious anxiety. Inside, she flipped on the light and set her things down on the dresser. Anthony placed his bag on one of the chairs and turned to her.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked. “I only have bottled water. Sorry.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not picky.” Anthony watched as she fumbled with the cap, noticed the slight tremble in her hand as she poured a glass for him and one for her. He smiled to himself. She isn’t used t
o this. He found that he couldn’t wait to make her tremble for other reasons.

  “Here.” Sarah handed him his glass and then she sat on the foot of the bed. Taking a long drink, she gulped it down and plunged headlong into her speech.

  “Anthony, I really need to ask you if you have...well, do you carry...um, condoms?” Her eyes peeked up at him on the last word of that sentence.

  “Yes.” He smiled, both dimples coming out to play. It did crazy things to her insides.

  “...because I don’t usually do this sort of thing...”

  He stopped her. “I know. I know you’re not that kind of girl. I can see that clear as day, but hey, you’re on vacation. We’re both consenting adults, and it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, Sarah. Hell, exactly the opposite. I’m going to make you feel so good.” He dropped down before her, his hands parting her knees so he could get closer. “I’m going to touch you everywhere, kiss you everywhere.” Anthony’s lips lightly touched hers but skipped off like the wings of a butterfly to skim along her jaw, down her neck and back up to her ear. “I’m going to taste every inch of your beautiful body.” His tongue flicked out, catching her earlobe and sucking it in. He nibbled for just a moment before returning to Sarah’s lips.

  “Oh!” It came out as a sigh, but Sarah couldn’t manage more than that. Hands cradled her face and masculine lips claimed hers in a searing kiss. It was gentle and commanding all at once. He sought deeper contact and swept the inside of her mouth with his tongue. He felt hers respond, parrying with his own. The duel had begun. Tongues thrust, parried, tasted, caressed, as lips glided across each other. Sarah felt Anthony suck in her lower lip and skim it with his teeth before giving a playful nip. She could feel the scratchiness of his facial stubble against her own softer skin. The roughness of it in contrast to his smooth lips seemed to start a fire deep down inside. Flames licked every spot his hands touched. A persistent ache built in her lower belly. The heavy, swollen surge of heat between her thighs made her wrap her arms around his waist and pull him closer.