Since he died, she’d been encased in ice, living on the surface, but dead inside. Michael seemed Roberto’s opposite—ice on the outside. Yet the Sight had shown her the passion inside him. And today, she’d glimpsed the depths of his soul. He could draw her from her icy prison, and she would do the same for him. Roberto would approve.
Although her body pulsed with need, she felt she could sleep now. The sooner she went to sleep, the sooner tomorrow would come.
Michael made a ton of money that morning. Ruthlessly, he made deals and moved merchandise. Desiree raised an eyebrow at some of the order forms, but he shrugged off her curiosity.
He had to have liquid funds in case his mom needed something. If Dr. Ramos decided she needed a test, a procedure, if he changed his mind about them traveling to India, or if there was something not covered by his mother’s insurance, he only had to tell Michael and he’d make it happen. Ramos knew it, yet he never abused Michael’s largesse. Dr. Ramos ordered only those treatments and tests that would make Mrs. Ziffkin better. And for that Michael respected the man.
When Ileana phoned before lunch, Michael eagerly took the call, focused almost entirely on doing more business with the Calderons. Although a small part of him thrilled at hearing her voice.
“Hello Ileana.”
“Michael, I need to talk to you.”
“What can I do for you?” She sounded so serious. He hoped her father wasn’t displeased with the new merchandise.
“Michael.” She paused and then rushed on. “Michael, would you have dinner with me?”
Michael’s thoughts derailed. “Dinner?”
“Yes, tonight.”
“Sure. Where would you like to meet?”
“Um, could you pick me up?”
His thoughts raced like a hamster in a wheel. No, she couldn’t be asking him out. She’d made it clear she wouldn’t date him.
“At my house,” she added.
His mouth dried. Visions of them twined together in bed flooded his brain, heating his blood and causing an immediate rise in his nether regions.
Stop it
, he told his libido.
She’s not offering you sex
. He licked dry lips. “I don’t want to misunderstand. This isn’t a date, right?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve reconsidered and I’d like to go out with you.”
Oh God, it was a dream come true. Yet it wasn’t a dream he could make reality. Yesterday had shown him the reasons he couldn’t get involved with Ileana. She wasn’t a one-night stand, and he wouldn’t lead her on about anything else.
“Ileana, I...”
“Do you like Italian?” she interrupted.
“Um, yes.”
“Tony’s on Seventh Street has wonderful stuffed ravioli. How does that sound to you?”
Any words spoken by her husky voice sounded like an invitation to sex, which this was not. “Um, that sounds delicious.”
“Good.” She sounded breathless. “Could you pick me up at seven?” She rattled off her address and he got caught up in writing it down.
“Seven, then? Can you find your way there?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t wait. See you later.” And she hung up before he could voice his reservations.
Ileana had asked him out! She’d been so adamant about them not dating that this about-face threw him. And all he could think about was sex.
He couldn’t call back and cancel. Her family’s business was more important than ever. He had to maintain a good relationship with the Calderon heir. At least that’s what his brain said. But he’d accepted a dinner invitation and given a false impression. She thought they were going on a date while he needed to keep things casual between them.
• • •
Michael had accepted! Nerves fluttered in Ileana’s stomach. She felt flushed by her boldness.
Her office door opened and her father walked in. Ileana’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She was glad he hadn’t heard what she’d just done.
Her father closed the door behind him and leaned against it. His face was stern. “Ileana, I have just spoken to Manuel Hernandez. He says you told Emilio you are still in mourning.”
She should have expected this sooner. “Because I am, Papá.”
“Ileana, you must stop this. You are still a young woman and it is time for you to do what all young women do, to become a wife and begin a family. Emilio is a good match.”
“I know that, Papá. But he doesn’t call to my heart. You said you understood.”
Her father’s face mottled with red. “I want this for Calderon, child of my flesh. This thing the doctor insists on—this exile from Calderon—is not my choosing. I fear it makes Calderon vulnerable. I do not wish the company my father started to be put in such a position. A connection with Hernandez would strengthen the company. Can you understand this, Ileana?”
She gripped her hands together. “Yes, Papá.”
“A Calderon president looks out for the company’s best interests.”
“If you choose me to succeed you, I would do that.”
“But while I am still president I ask this of you...for Calderon. For the family.”
“You ask too much,” she said in a small voice.
“Yet you were prepared to do it once before.”
He meant with Roberto. “That was another time.” And she was another person.
Her father looked at her for a long time, saying nothing. He was not used to being defied openly like this. Perhaps he thought his mere presence could quail her into submission.
He thought wrong.
Finally he sighed. “Will you come to the house for dinner tonight?”
Ileana tried not to flush. “I’m sorry, but I have plans tonight.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Another business dinner?”
“No.”
“Very well. Any progress on the break-ins?”
“Not yet. I believe they’re tied to the one at Citadel though. I spoke to Michael Ziffkin about it.”
“When?” he fired at her.
“Yesterday. He told me to talk to the police.”
“But they were no help.”
“I know. But I told them our suspicions anyway. That’s all I have so far.”
“Keep working on it.”
“I will.”
When her father left, Ileana’s shoulders slumped with relief. If he knew what she planned with Michael tonight, she’d never know peace.
She was pacing her house, unable to sit for long, when Michael’s Mazda sedan pulled into her driveway. Her throat dried. Her pulse went haywire. As he stepped from the car, she dropped her purse. He was so dark and sexy and masculine in his double-breasted black suit. Her body cried out for him, for what she knew he could do to her.
As Michael strode up the walk with a long-legged stride, she bent and snatched the purse from the floor. Darting to the door, she opened it to find his finger poised to ring the doorbell.
“Sorry I made you get out of the car. I dropped my purse.” Oh, that sounded bright.
“A gentleman escorts a lady to the car.”
A Cuban man would. She liked his manners. She liked the way his mouth quirked in a small smile even more. His lips looked kissable.
Michael stood close enough for her to feel his body heat, yet not as close as she needed. Within his arms was where she really wanted to be.
She didn’t imagine the heat in his dark eyes. He wanted her, too. She knew what desire looked like and Michael was wearing it. They didn’t need to go out to dinner if they’d already gotten to this point. Why not go straight to bed? How did modern women invite a man into their bed? Twenty-nine years of Cuban breeding held her tongue silent.
“Did you forget something?” he asked.
How to breathe. How to think. How to seduce a man. “No,” she replied instead.
“Then we should probably go.”
No, they shouldn’t. But she allowed him to urge her out the front door to his car. He opened the car door for her, again standing close. She slid into the coolness of the still air-conditioned car, tucking her full skirt inside. She looked up to find him watching her movements with palpable intensity. Her body sang. Why didn’t he suggest they go back inside?
But he closed the door instead. She sighed. It was going to be a long evening until they arrived back here where Michael could make a move.
Ileana couldn’t help watching Michael as he drove, so she saw him swallow, take a deep breath, and wipe his palm along his black trousers. He was nervous. No wonder he hadn’t acted on the heat in his eyes.
He glanced at her. He did feel what she felt. It excited her.
At the restaurant, he opened her door for her. His palm against her lower back was welcomingly warm. Her nerve endings tingled with pleasure. His nearness created flutters in her stomach. His glances over her body were bold—like a caress that stroked her nipples—and yet restrained. His restraint frustrated and yet endeared her to him. It reminded her of the Cuban males that populated her life, yet he was different enough to thrill her.
Ileana couldn’t say what they ate or what they talked about. His deep, calm voice stroked her nerve endings. She’d never known a voice could enthrall her, but Michael’s did. She could listen to him talk all day...and all night. She thought if he’d had an accent—British or Australian—he probably could make her come just by speaking.
She flushed.
His dark gaze was knowing. A smile teased the corners of his mouth, which caused her stomach to clench.
Ileana watched his hands; his long fingers were sure. They stroked the water glass. Her gaze darted to his eyes. He knew she watched him. She couldn’t tell where his pupils ended and his irises began—all was molten heat.
Oh my. She swallowed hard.
Michael reached across the table and stroked one long finger down the back of her hand. Electricity jolted through her and she jerked in her seat. Her breath came in small pants. His gaze dropped to her quickly lifting breasts. Her breasts tingled. When his gaze rose to meet hers, sexual awareness zinged between them.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his tone husky.
“Yes.” Any more ready and she’d come with his next touch.
He rose. She did too, although her legs felt shaky. She’d welcome lying down...with him.
Ileana was close enough that she heard the buzz of his vibrating phone and saw Michael twitch. Without looking away from her, he withdrew it from his trouser pocket. His breath hitched. He glanced at the display quickly and then frowned.
“Pardon me. It’s my security.” He pressed her up against him with his free palm.
Her nerves jangled all along where her skin met his.
“Ziffkin.” Michael listened. He stiffened against her. “Who is it?”
Ileana felt his attention shift completely, and then he took a step away from her. “How’d they get in?” he barked.
Something niggled at her subconscious, something more than this scene being a repeat of their last dinner together.
“I’ll be right there.” He jabbed the off button.
“Another break-in?” she asked.
Michael ran a distracted hand through his short hair. “No, but I need to go. I’m sorry. Again. I’ll pay for your cab home.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No,” he snapped, then gentled his tone. “Security found a dead woman in my warehouse.”
Shock rocketed through Ileana. Her eyes widened and she knew she must look frightened because Michael wrapped his arms around her.
“It’s all right.”
She nodded, unable yet to speak. She had a suspicion her dream from last night was about to come true. And she had to know: was the dead body a beautiful woman in her underwear? If so, the danger she sensed in the dream was to Michael and his business.
“I’m coming with you.”
“I’m coming with you.” Determination showed on Ileana’s face. Her cat-slanted eyes dared Michael to gainsay her. Hell, he wouldn’t do that. He wanted her with him too badly.
As they walked to his car, he sighed with frustration. He’d been certain the evening would end differently because she’d been giving him the green light all through dinner. He couldn’t believe the change in her since their last meal together. He was sure she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
But now the mood was ruined. A dead body. How had this happened?
Michael was hyper aware of Ileana as he drove as fast as he safely could through Miami’s nightlife traffic. His semi-arousal pulsed in his too-tight slacks, reminding him of what wouldn’t happen tonight. He shouldn’t be taking Ileana with him. He risked so much in doing so. He had to remember she represented an important client and he needed her company’s business.
And if tonight scarred her psyche, he risked never knowing the hot sweet succor of her body.
He gripped the steering wheel with violent force. These incidents had to stop. If he got his hand on the perpetrators, he’d take out his frustrations and anger on them.
The police were already on the scene when Michael arrived at his warehouse. The red and blue lights strobed the Miami night, painting the structures on both sides of the street.
One look at Ileana’s set face told him no argument would sway her, but he had to try. “You should stay in the car.”
“I’m coming with you.” Her stubborn streak was deeply rooted.
He stopped arguing, but kept her close.
The security guard, John Tessla, met him at the door. John’s face looked like he’d made a habit of losing boxing matches. “The police told me I could let you in, but only you.”
His flat gray eyes slid to Ileana, where they widened slightly in appreciation. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ziffkin. I didn’t know you were busy.”
“It’s okay, John. This is Ileana Alvarez Calderon. Ileana, one of my security team, John Tessla.”
The two nodded at one another and exchanged greetings.
“Miss Alvarez Calderon can wait with me,” John suggested.
But a glance at Ileana showed the mulish set of her face. “She’ll go with me. It’s okay. I’ll handle the police.”
Michael followed the sound of muffled male voices inside to the cops’ location. He’d braced himself for anything except what he found—a pretty brunette in dusty green lingerie lay sprawled on the concrete. There were no marks on her that he could see.
Ileana gasped. Her face paled. He pulled her into the warmth of his body.
The cops turned. “You’re the owner, Michael Ziffkin?” the taller one asked.