Dancing in a Hurricane (37 page)

He held up the card. "May I keep this? I'd like to check out the online site."

"Sure." She grinned. "Thinking of changing your lifestyle?"

He winked. "It can't hurt to look, can it?"

***

Bree walked in the door and Sixto grabbed her.

She squealed in delight as he spun her in a circle, her purse and box went flying.

"Where have you been? I missed you?"

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she said, "Tallahassee. You're looking at a physical therapist officially licensed in the state of Florida."

"Congratulations." He kissed her, set her on her feet. "Are you going to get a job now?"

She pushed away from him. "I am. I need to be a productive member of society."

He let her go. "Is that a dig at me?"

She shook her head. "No." She smiled. "Maybe." She knelt on the floor and gathered the envelopes that spilled out of the box. "I just want to encourage you, not harass you."

"I'm working on it, but it takes time."

She glanced up at him. She could nag him a little about giving up one of his jobs and concentrating more time on school. No, with everything going on with Marisa, this wasn't the moment.

He sat on his heels next to her and picked up an envelope. "What are these?"

She sat and looked at him. He had so many excuses for not finishing his degree and loved to change the subject every time she brought it up.

"I got them from Cloe's office today, they just found them. They're letters she wrote me that I returned. Unread."

He looked at her, his face inscrutable.

"Do you think I should read them?"

"They might help with your ability to put closure on her death."

She took the letter from him, dropped it in the box, and shut the top. "I know, but maybe that's not what I need?"

He sat next to her, put an arm around her, and brushed his lips on her temple. "You don't have to make a decision right away. Think about it and when the time's right, you'll know."

She snuggled in and looked up at him, smiling. "See what a good counselor you are?"

"
Cariña
, I could spend 24/7 just working on
your
issues."

She gasped, dropping her mouth open, and widening her eyes. "That's mean." She laughed. "I don't have that many issues." She counted all her neuroses. "Do I?"

He chuckled. "No. You're one of the most stable people I've ever lived with."

"Not funny." She sat up and looked at him. "That reminds me. The house transfer is almost complete. Have you thought any more about selling?"

"I have." His eyes seemed wary. "I'd like to keep my half and stay here."

She cuddled back against him. "Good. I'd like that, too."

He let out a long breath. "Good."

She felt him stiffen.

"You saw your lawyer today?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Is the management company transaction finalized?"

"Nope. Some tie-up with the city." She ran her finger over his kneecap. "I'd hoped to take possession, get the keys, and go digging around, but it'll have to wait."

"Huh."

She felt him relax. Why did he always tense up when they talked about the warehouses? She tried to ignore it, but she kept coming back to the annoying feeling that something was going on that he knew about and she didn't.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Starving. Should we order a pizza?"

He snorted. "I'm making you supper,
cariña
. This is our first real date and we're not going to be eating pizza from a box."

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry! I didn't know you were such a food snob."

"I am. No McDonalds, no chain restaurants."

"Only the best for you?"

He stood and helped her up. "And for you." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Bree, you make enough from the management company that you don't have to work full time. You should enjoy it, take advantage of it."

She watched his eyes for duplicity, but he seemed sincere. "It seems like an empty life."

"Then volunteer. Donate money. Start your own foundation. There's a lot you can do to help the community besides work an eight to five job."

"What about you?" She tapped a finger on his clavicle. "What do you do to help the community?"

He seemed annoyed as he glanced away. "Nothing." After a moment, he looked at her. "But we could do something together."

"Why don't you want me to get a job?"

He put his hands on each side of her head, his eyes intense. "Truth? I'm selfish. I like having you here with me." He brushed his lips over hers, their warmth, coupled with his sweet words, filled her soul with longing.

"Maybe I could take a part-time job, for now," she surprised herself by blurting.

He smiled and pulled her to him, his kiss possessive, assured.

She was okay with working part time. At least until she got a handle on the revenue pouring into her bank account. She slowed the kiss and said against his lips. "Feed me."

"Follow me," he groaned and took her by the hand.

She sat on a barstool, watched him cook, and sipped on a very light margarita. They agreed to cut down on their drinking and it helped both of them feel more in control.

Cloe had started drinking when she was seventeen and Bree saw the way alcohol turned her sister into a party girl. Lots of beer, lots of men. Their parents were close to getting Cloe into treatment when they died. After the funeral, she straightened out for a while, but within a year, she was drinking and doing drugs.

What was her life like the last five years? Greg said she was hard, driven. Sixto said she was cold, and everyone else just called her "The Bitch." Bree looked over at the box of letters sitting on the floor. Burn them or read them?

***

Sixto hugged one beautiful woman after another. All ages, teens to grandmothers, as they walked the streets of Little Havana.

Bree took in the sights of the neighborhood where he grew up and where his family lived. He pointed out Domino Park where the retirees played dominos and checkers all day. The stores were quaint and colorful. Guayabera shirts hung in windows, cigar shops boasted the finest tobaccos, the restaurants were exotic and inviting, and the women—exceptionally friendly.

A leggy
Cubana
wrapped herself around him. They conversed in Spanish then he introduced her to Bree. As they walked through the business district, the same thing happened with different women at least a dozen times. Each time he would put his arm around Bree and called her "his girlfriend."

It did make her feel wanted, but it didn't stop her from feeling jealous, too. Everyone in this neighborhood was demonstrative, friendly hugs, handshakes, pats on the back. And everyone knew Sixto. She furtively checked her watch—if they didn't get moving, they'd be late for supper with his parents.

Earlier in the week, when Estelle called Sixto and asked him to bring Bree to Versailles Restaurant for dinner with just the four of them, Bree was excited but nervous. Sixto told her it was an honor—this was the first time his parents asked him to bring a date to supper.

Friday night, Little Havana came alive, celebrating
Viernes Culturales
. A street fair, music, dancing. After a fancy supper with his parents, he led her to a small bar with an outdoor patio for dancing. The music flowed soft and romantic and he taught her the steps to a few traditional Cuban dances. But mostly they just swayed. Stars dotted the sky above them and the breeze blew spicy with the scents of Cuban food.

It was bliss to be in his arms again. When he released her hand and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, she eased her hands up his biceps to his shoulders.

"My parents like you, Bree."

She looked up at him, seeing soft emotion in his eyes. "I like them, too. Your whole family is fantastic."

He bent and rubbed his cheek against hers, whispered in her ear, "You're fantastic."

"Mmm." A surge of warmth spread from her neck down low in her belly. "What you're doing is fantastic. Don't stop."

He brushed his lips against her ear as he quietly sang along to the Shakira song, "
Algo en ti algo entre los dos que me hacer insister
." Tingles shook her, she asked, "What does that mean?"

He chuckled softly. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

Smiling, she pulled back. "Then you may not continue."

He scanned her face, breathing deeply, and said, "Something in you, something between the two of us that makes me persist."

She waited, her heart wanting to hear him say what that something was, but her logical side telling her it was too soon—for both of them. "You are persistent."

He shrugged. "It's hard to take it slow."

"To you, this is slow, to me, it's amazingly fast."

His arms tensed. "Am I pushing you?"

She slid her hand to the back of his neck. "Your timing is perfect." She pulled him toward her, went up on her toes, and kissed him. When she pulled back, he lifted her from the ground and kissed her, his lips urgent on hers, his tongue coaxing her to open to him. He tasted her, lapped at her tongue, made crazy circles inside her cheeks.

Her world spun. She hung onto his shoulders and lost one of her sandals. When she took over the kiss, she traced his teeth, tickled the roof of his mouth. Her tongue slid along his, loving his taste, sharing his breaths. When she felt the evidence of his arousal against her leg, she slowed, kissing his lips, his chin, his jaw.

He set her down, she found her sandal, and smiled up at him. "That was nice."

He grunted. "Nice? That was
caliente
."

She nodded, feeling hot on every inch of her skin. Looking into his eyes, she admitted, "It's never been like this for me."

"I know, Bree. It's extreme for me, too." He brushed her hair back gently. "We're going to incinerate before we get around to sleeping together."

Sleeping together—just sex? Doubt crept into her mind. She glanced away.

He put his hands on her face and looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry, that was the wrong thing to say. When you're ready, we'll make love. Breathtaking, passionate love. It'll be perfect."

She swallowed, a burst of emotion flaming through her at the word "love." "Sixto?" Should she tell him how she felt?

"Uh huh?"

Someone bumped into him and he grabbed her to keep her from stumbling.

A male voice said, "Sixto, at least pretend to dance,
socio
." The man and his dance partner laughed.

Sixto smiled. "
Gracias, socio.
" He looked at her. "I forget myself around this beauty."

The man winked at her and she felt her cheeks redden as he spun his woman away.

"Enough for one night?" Sixto asked. His smile teased.

She fanned herself with her hand. "Yes, that's about all I can take."

He offered his arm and they made their way through the crowd. "Were you going to tell me something?" he asked.

She glanced at him, looked away, and lost her nerve. "It was nothing."

***

Marisa saw it out of the corner of her eye. A big, black car parked at the end of her parents' driveway. Standing on the front porch, she fought the urge to run back into the house.

He got out the driver's door, closed it, and walked around the front of the car and up the driveway. Victor. She'd allowed herself a sense of false security, but that had been the only way she could make it through the day. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Deep inside she knew all along it was just a matter of time before he came for her.

Steeling her nerves, she walked to meet him halfway. He looked exactly the same: an expensive suit, snow-white shirt, and silk tie. His dark brown hair cut short and his eyes—an amazing dark blue—were as cruel as always.

He put his hands on her arms and bent to kiss her. She turned her cheek. "Victor. Why are you here?"

"Marisa, I've missed you my darling."

She stepped back, forcing him to release her.

"I'm not your darling. I
was
your punching bag, but those days are over."

He furrowed his brow. "You know I've changed, darling. Our last month together was magical. I was shocked when you left without warning."

"I gave you plenty of warning. I told you I was moving home and I left you a note."

"A note—" He gestured with his hand and she jerked back as the old duck-and-cover instinct took over. He looked guilty. "I've caused you pain, Marisa and I apologize. I'm in control and can promise you it will never happen again."

She'd heard it so many times before, she didn't know if she should laugh or cry. "That's right, it won't happen again, Victor. We're through."

She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. "We're not through." He looked her up and down. "You've gained weight, Marisa. Is there something you need to tell me?"