Pure Lust (Lust for Life) (2 page)

After an entire school year of being ignored by her, he’d
finally worked up the courage to ask her for her phone number on the last day
of school. Frustrated and humiliated when she refused, he’d called her that
stupid name.

And then he’d never laid eyes on her again because she moved
away.

“What do you mean, unfortunately?” Eva asked, bringing him
out of his thoughts.

“Nothing.” They shifted the baby together so she was lying
on his chest with Eva’s arm protectively around her and Eva rested her head
against his shoulder again. “You should take a quick nap before Oscar gets back
with food.”

She shifted so her nose was just touching the top of Olive’s
head and said, “I’m still too wound up to sleep.” And then promptly went limp.

Diego, who’d gotten up extra early that morning to email
business contacts and arrange for time off so he could spend the next couple of
weeks at home, laid his head back and instantly followed her to sleep.

When he woke up several hours later Oscar was also in the
room, sleeping in the lounge chair that he’d pushed right up to the side of
Eva’s bed, the baby asleep on his chest. Eva had turned to face Oscar, her back
to Diego, her hand on Oscar’s chest near the baby.

He managed to sneak out of bed without waking anyone and put
on his shoes, wrote a note saying he would be back later and left. He came out
of the parking garage elevator at the same time a woman came out of the
stairwell. As she turned toward the garage itself he caught sight of the pink
running shoes followed by her delectable ass and the back of that glossy, short
swing of hair.

He paused less than a heartbeat, then called out, “Claire.”

That crushed-velvet voice stopped her in her tracks.

She knew who it belonged to before she turned to face him.

When Brenda Rodriguez told Claire her oldest son Diego had
become a traveling pharmaceutical rep, Claire had imagined balding and
pot-bellied in a bad suit and grease-stained tie. The man standing in front of
her was none of the above.

He was sporting an admittedly sexy version of bedhead at the
moment, but his short black hair was thick as could be. Dressed casually for
his visit with his sister, his stylish sweatshirt, with its oblique zipper and
fashionably slouchy collar, loosely hugged an upper body that appeared to be in
middleweight boxer shape.

The naturally mischievous shape of his deep-set dark-green
eyes and the gorgeous medium olive of his skin were exactly the same as she
remembered on the boy from her childhood, but she didn’t recall his mouth being
so…lust inspiring.

The reality that the jerk had gotten extremely good-looking
with age—hot as hell if she was going to go ahead and be honest with herself—was
highly unsatisfying.

“Eva told you my name,” Claire said, agitated with herself
for becoming distracted by all that manly perfection.

He widened his stance slightly and tucked his hands into his
sweatshirt pockets. “Do you remember what you said to me after I called you
that name?”

What she’d said? She hadn’t
said
anything. All she
could remember was that he’d been talking and all she’d wanted was to go home
and start packing because she and her mom and were going to be moving into her
soon-to-be stepdad’s house. She hadn’t heard much of anything he’d said until
he’d called her fat, and then…Oh boy.

“You said ‘takes one to know one,’” he told her, as if she
hadn’t just remembered.

Because he’d been a chubby kid too.

“I remember thinking wow, what a woman,” he added after a
heartbeat. The sexy half-smile he gave her changed the temperature in the
entryway from cool to infernal, as if it was the middle of the day in August
instead of just before sunrise in late April.

“I was eleven,” she reminded him dryly.

The hypnotic way his smile widened hit her full-force in her
core, making places she barely remembered existed get warm and tingly. “So was
I.”

She sighed, suddenly unsure of why his presence was making
her so cranky. Sixth grade had happened more than twenty-five years ago. Not
only that, but her mom had made her feel better about the whole confrontation
as soon as she’d gotten home that day. It was so far behind her she hadn’t
thought about it in a very long time.

Only she hadn’t been home in two days, her neck was stiff
from having fallen asleep on that tiny couch in the doctor’s lounge and she was
starving her head off.

“Well, now that we’ve established that.” She pivoted on her
toes and headed for her car, completely flustered and thoroughly embarrassed.

“Claire,” he called after her, humor clear in his voice.
“Please wait.”

She went out the entryway doors to the garage itself and
turned in the direction where her car was parked. He easily caught up with her
and gently hooked his fingers through her elbow, then let go when she stopped
suddenly and spun to face him.

“Listen,” he started. “Back then I was all full of hormones
I still didn’t know what to do with and I was frustrated because you shot me
down when I asked if I could call you over the summer. I know,” he held up his
hands, “it’s no excuse for the fact that what I said was cruel. If it makes you
feel better, guilt got the best of me and I confessed my sins to my mom when I
got home and she nearly had my ass over it.”

Claire looked away and bit the inside of her bottom lip to
keep from smiling.

“She wanted me to call you and apologize but, well, I didn’t
have your phone number so I got grounded for the first two weeks of my summer
vacation instead.” He angled his head so his gorgeous face came into her line
of sight. “What do you think? Can I at least say I’m sorry?”

She straightened. “All right. Go ahead.”

“Good.” He took one of her hands in his. They were warm and
strong and held hers lightly, almost reverently. He stepped close, his
expression sincere. “Claire,” her knees went weak at the way he said her name,
“I apologize for calling you a fat cow.”

Hearing him say it again, watching the words form on his
stunning mouth, made her laugh. It seemed completely ridiculous that she’d
brought it up in the first place.

“Apology accepted,” she told him, feeling some of the
tension she didn’t realize she’d been carrying ease from her shoulders.

“Thank you,” he said as if he was immensely relieved. He
rubbed his thumb over the backs of her fingers. “You don’t wear a wedding
ring?”

She flinched, startled. “Why would I?” she asked before she
could stop herself.

His head cocked to one side. “Eva told me you’re married.”

“I
was
married. Now I’m widowed,” she added, feeling
a twinge in her belly at the mention of it. It had been so long since she’d
talked about it.

“I’m so sorry, Claire,” he said, his hold on her hand
tightening slightly.

“It’s been five years.” The pain of it had dulled somewhat,
but it was still there.

“Still…” He seemed at a loss for words for a moment,
something she got the impression didn’t happen to him very often. “Can I take
you to breakfast? We could catch up, get to know each other as grown-ups.”

She sighed and remembered to pull her hand free of his.
“Thank you for the apology, Diego. Despite the way I’ve been acting, it really
is good to see you.” And where on earth did
that
come from? “But I think
it would be best if we leave it at that.”

He stayed right by her side as she started walking toward
her car again.

And then she caught sight of the car parked farther down the
row on the left and stopped dead in her tracks. The rush of fear that raced
through her turned her blood to ice and made the small hairs all over her body
stand on end.

“How much trouble do you think we could cause over
breakfast?” Diego asked. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his gaze
had followed the direction of hers.

The older model, painstakingly-cared-for Buick was backed
into the spot with the ignition running, the driver wearing a baseball cap and
sunglasses as some kind of ridiculous attempt at disguise.

She was vaguely aware that Diego had asked if the driver was
someone she knew.

“Yes,” she whispered and walked the last few feet between
herself and her car on shaky legs. She turned and was grateful Diego had stayed
with her. “I know, I
know
, I was just a huge bitch to you,” she said,
speaking fast and low, “but could you please do me a big, big favor?”

There was a mixture of concern and amusement in his eyes but
he said, “Sure.”

“Could you please hug me like we’re friends saying goodbye?”
she asked, her face heating with fear and embarrassment.

A kind of wickedness seeped into his expression. “Are we
good friends?” he asked, and put his hands on her waist. He was kind of looking
at her as if he meant to kiss her, and she realized she didn’t hate the idea.
“Or
really
good friends?”

“Surprise me,” she heard herself say, making him chuckle in
a way she felt all the way through the ends of her fingers and toes.

Then she was in his arms, the side of her face pressed to
his neck, the overnight growth of stubble on his cheek both soft and a little
scratchy against her ear. With one of his strong arms around her waist and his
other hand pressed between her shoulder blades, she started to tremble, and it
wasn’t entirely because she was afraid of what was going to happen with the
Buick driver once Diego let go of her and walked away.

He smelled amazing, like very dark chocolate layered with
exotic spices. His body was incredibly warm and so, so very strong. The way his
hard stomach and sculpted chest felt against her much softer body turned the
steady tingle between her legs, the one that had started the moment he’d first
said her name, into an insistent throb.

He didn’t let go of her when he pulled back, just brushed
the side of his face over hers as he raised his head and pulled himself up to
his full height.

Kiss me
, she thought, unable to tear her gaze away
from his.

“All right,” he said, as if she’d spoken out loud. “I don’t
mind you using me to make another man jealous, but I should warn you, once
isn’t going to be enough.”

And then…
oh wow
.

He touched his beautiful mouth to hers, his firm but
soft-to-the-touch lips fitting perfectly over her bottom lip, and pressed. Not
too hard or too soft. Just right. The arm around her waist tightened slightly,
drawing her closer. The hand between her shoulder blades slid up to lightly
hold the base of her skull, which was good, because her head might have flopped
right off without the support.

And when he opened his mouth a little, just enough to touch
the tip of his tongue to her lip before sucking on it ever so slightly, she
whimpered.

The earsplitting squealing of tires as the old Buick peeled
out and sped away made her flinch and gasp, breaking the connection between her
and Diego, rudely reminding her of why she’d let him get so close in the first
place.

He continued to hold her tightly, watching over his shoulder
until the car screeched around a corner and disappeared from view before he
released her and stepped back.

“That worked pretty well, don’t you think?” he asked.

In more ways than she could possibly explain.

“Not jealous,” she said, stunned, and touched her fingertips
to her mouth.

Diego narrowed his eyes in question.

“I didn’t want him to be jealous,” she explained, feeling
her face flush hotter. “I want him to leave me alone.” She could still hear the
nails-on-chalkboard sound of tires on concrete as he sped through the lower
levels of the garage.

“I think you just got both.” His hands went back into his
jeans pockets, his gaze drifted from her mouth to her eyes. “Who is he?”

A horrible lapse in judgment. Her hitting the proverbial
bottom. A nightmare.

“We dated for a very short time, a few weeks at most. He
wanted more, but I didn’t.” She opened her car door and swung her tote bag and
purse onto the passenger seat and realized her hands were shaking. “He isn’t
taking the breakup well.”

She could practically see the questions running through his
mind as he held her gaze steadily. There was a tension to the way he was
holding himself that made her feel as if she would be safe, protected, as long
as he was near.

Which was good, because for the first time in her life, she
was feeling both frightened and intimidated by the actions of a man. Not the
one standing in front of her, but the one who’d just driven away angry.

The car noises stopped altogether a moment, and then there
was another loud revving of an engine, the unmistakable sound of tires burning
rubber on pavement.

“That must have burned his ass to have to stop and pay the
toll,” he said darkly.

The laugh that rolled up from deep within Claire’s trembling
belly was too loud and felt too good, blowing off some of the tension as it
poured out.

“Does he know where you live?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Do you want me to follow you home? Watch you go inside and
lock the doors?”

Gorgeous, charming
and
chivalrous.

The Diego standing in front of her didn’t gel with the Diego
of her memory. She felt as if there should have been warning bells going off in
her head, but there was nothing.

“I’m not going straight home,” she told him. “I’m meeting my
parents.”

He unzipped his sweatshirt halfway, revealing a plain white
undershirt with a V-neck that gave her a tantalizing peek at the hollow between
his collarbones, the slight valley between his defined pecs, and fine black
chest hair.

He reached into an inside pocket, came back out with a
little silvery-gray card before he zipped his sweatshirt closed. If he was
aware that she’d been gawking, her heart skipping greedily in her chest and her
fingers itching to touch, he wasn’t showing it as he handed her the card.

“The bottom number is my direct line,” he told her. “If you
decide you’d like to go to dinner, give me a call. I’m home for two weeks.”

Claire nodded, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Okay.” She
glanced up and then away just as quickly, afraid to reveal the really dirty
thoughts she couldn’t stop from playing out in her head, because she did
not
have a good poker face.

“I’m parked right down the row. Can I at least follow you
out to make sure he isn’t waiting for you around the corner?”

The thought chilled her. Right to the bone.

“Thank you, Diego,” she said, getting a grip on herself.
“And I’m sorry. For the using-you thing.”

“You’re welcome, and no worries.” He tapped the edge of the
card she was gripping for dear life. “Use that. I promise to be a complete
gentleman unless you ask me to behave otherwise.”

He waited until she was in her car with the door locked and
the engine started before he turned and headed toward his car. She wasn’t the
least bit surprised when a beautifully understated BMW pulled out and followed
her.

A sort of surreal feeling stayed with her as she drove to
her parents’ house for breakfast, not stopping at home to change because she
was already running a little late.

“Did you work all night?” her mom asked, taking in the sight
of Claire still in her scrubs as she sat at the kitchen table, a much needed
cup of coffee in her hands.

“No. Well, kind of. One of my moms had a long labor.
Thirty-six hours total, but I was only with her the last twenty-four.” She
sipped and closed her eyes. Her mother brewed the best coffee. “She gave birth
yesterday, very late evening. I fell asleep on the couch in the break room
while I was filling out her chart last night.”