As she ended the kiss, it all came flooding back—Esteban Calderon’s horrible pact and Michael’s oath.
Michael stiffened.
Oh my God.
“Ileana, what are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?”
Whatever emotion had raged like a flash fire between Ileana and Michael shattered into a million pieces with his tortured question, which sounded more like an accusation.
Hurt doused her lust like ice water, quieting the fire she’d felt only with him. Embarrassed heat flamed her cheeks as she noticed the older couple taking in the scene. They were probably his relatives.
How could she have misjudged the look of welcome on his face, in his lips? Surely she hadn’t been alone in the searing passion of that kiss.
Another glance around showed the older couple still standing at rapt attention. Farther down the hall, a flock of pretty bridesmaids emerged from a room. Behind Ileana, the outer door opened and several people stepped inside. Oh God, this scene was going to play out in front of witnesses.
Oh, why had she come? Why had she thought Michael had... Wait a minute. “You invited me.”
“No, I didn’t,” he denied with some heat.
“I did,” the older woman admitted, stepping forward. It was the voice from the phone call. “I’m Jane Ziffkin, Michael’s mother.” She held out her hand to Ileana.
“Mom,” Michael protested. “How could you?”
Ileana, caught between mother and son, took the proffered hand. “Mrs. Ziffkin, I don’t understand.”
The man who must be her husband looked as confused as Ileana felt. Up close, she could see he shared Michael’s eye and hair coloring. Michael, however, had his mother’s thinner bone structure.
“I wanted you here,” Mrs. Ziffkin explained. “With Michael.”
“Mom, you don’t understand.”
“I understand what I observed when you saw this young woman. Your reaction was more honest than you’ve been with me.”
What had he said to his mother?
“Whatever the problem is, it’s resolvable if you’re together.”
Problem?
Mrs. Ziffkin still held onto Ileana’s hand. The bridal party was fast approaching. The ushers hovered by them with earnest, urgent faces. They were holding up the proceedings.
Then Mrs. Ziffkin captured Michael’s hand and tugged him close enough to slip his hand into Ileana’s. An electric current jolted through their joined hands. Ileana looked up at Michael, but he was turned to his mother.
Mrs. Ziffkin kissed him on the cheek. “This makes me happy.” She stepped away to take an usher’s arm.
In that instant, there was such pain on Michael’s face that Ileana ached for him.
His father leaned close. “Do as your mother wants, son. Give her this day.” He patted Michael’s shoulder and followed his wife and the usher down the aisle.
The bride—a lovely Latina in a princess style dress—and her rainbow of attendants, including two little Latina girls, all stared at Michael and Ileana.
“Michael, you need to be seated,” the bride stated, her voice serene.
A tall Latino man in full police dress uniform moved up next to the bride. “Is there a problem, Michael?” His glare said there’d better not be.
Michael’s hand gripped Ileana’s harder. “No sir, Captain Sanchez. My date has just arrived.”
“Then you’d best find your seats. Your brother’s waiting.”
“Shall we?” Michael offered Ileana his free arm.
Ileana swallowed her questions and laced her arm through his. Michael ignored the usher and walked her down the aisle. She was aware of faces turning as they passed, of his mother’s brilliant smile, and of the two dark-haired men in tuxedos entering the front of the church. Other young men entered after they did, but it was the first two who drew her attention. One was Rick, who stared at her and Michael with intense interest. The other man—clearly the groom—was a more beautiful and vibrant version of Michael. Would Michael look like that if he smiled readily?
Then Michael reached the family’s pew and they scooted in past his parents. His mother squeezed Ileana’s hand as she passed.
The wedding march played, the congregation stood, and Ileana watched with tears in her eyes as the bride approached. She always cried at weddings. Michael’s arm stole around her waist, and she rested against his warm, hard frame until the bride reached the front of the church.
As the traditional wedding Mass unfolded, Ileana wondered why Michael had chosen not to be a groomsman. Instinctively, she knew it had been his refusal; it wasn’t that he hadn’t been asked. Why did he separate himself from his brothers? Rick had chosen to stand with Charlie, acting as his best man. Any barriers between those two had been breached. But Michael was still imprisoned inside his walls.
As though he couldn’t help it, Michael kept his arm around her or held her hand all through the long Mass. Ileana caught his mother eyeing their joined hands. Then she wiped away tears and leaned against his father. Ileana didn’t think Michael had caught the byplay.
When they bowed their heads to pray, Michael nosed the hair at her temple, sending goosebumps up her arms. She didn’t believe he was acting for his mother’s sake because his mother wasn’t even looking. She was wrapped up in her youngest son’s exchange of vows.
All these years Ileana had listened to wedding vows, feeling the poignancy of her own unrealized dream. Roberto had not lived long enough to marry her. They would never have a home filled with dark-eyed Cuban children, never grow old loving each other. Now another dark-eyed man sat beside her barred in his castle of pain and sorrow, a man capable of deep love, a very human man who could be hurt.
The bride was Hispanic, the groom white. There were many Latinos on the bride’s side, yet there were whites, too. Cops of all races in dress uniform were sprinkled liberally on both sides, another unifying factor.
Ileana eyed the man beside her. When had she forgotten he was white and had simply begun to think of him as a man? He was complex with many interesting facets. And he was far from perfect, but she didn’t want perfection.
Michael caught her perusal. His eyes were pools of liquid chocolate, his expression severe. He leaned closer and captured her lips for a too-brief kiss. But it was enough to make it hard to breathe.
Then the Mass was over and they waited in the pews to be released.
“It was a beautiful ceremony,” Mrs. Ziffkin said, swiping a tissue under her eyes.
“They make a stunning couple,” Ileana agreed.
“Her family lived next door to ours until she was sixteen. Her father broke them up when he caught them in bed together. He even moved away to keep them apart. But Charlie and Juliana were made for each other.”
What a difference Charlie was from Michael, then.
“Michael and Charlie were as different as night and day,” Mrs. Ziffkin said, as though she’d read Ileana’s thoughts. “I wondered if Michael had a sense of humor, and I doubted Charlie had a serious bone in his body. Well, except for his acting. He took that very seriously. But now Charlie has found some balance. Michael...well, there’s still hope.” She gave Ileana a meaningful look.
“I can hear you, Mom,” Michael said over Ileana’s head.
“I meant you to,” his mother retorted then turned as Charlie and Juliana arrived to free them from the pew.
“Oh, Charlie, I’m so happy.” As his mother hugged him, Charlie’s smile outshone the sun.
Everyone in their pew exchanged hugs, kisses, and congratulations with the newly married couple. Juliana was as radiant as Charlie. Ileana could see they loved one another. She watched closely as Michael congratulated his brother. On Michael’s part, the hug was stiff. When he hugged Juliana, however, he was more natural. Then their little group made its way to the back, leaving the bride and groom to greet people in the next pew.
Michael drew Ileana and his parents into the side hall with Rick. His mother hugged and kissed Rick. When Michael and his father stood side by side, the resemblance was startling.
“Do you want to sit down?” Michael quietly asked his mother.
“I’m all right. Don’t worry.” She patted his cheek then took hold of one of Michael’s arms and one of Ileana’s. “Want to tell me what happened between you?”
Ileana frowned. “When?”
“Mom.” Michael’s admonition was stern.
But his mother ignored him. “Why you broke up when it’s clear you’re crazy about each other.”
“You broke up with me?” Ileana exclaimed. “When?”
Michael rubbed his face with his free hand and cursed his mother—silently of course. Cancer didn’t give her liberty to meddle where she didn’t belong, even if she was right about how he and Ileana responded to each other. This was no way to tell Ileana.
“This isn’t the time or place,” Michael insisted. “We have a few hours of reception still to get through.” He looked at Ileana. “Unless you want to leave?”
“Absolutely not,” his mother snapped, her gray eyes blazing. “I forbid you to spoil Charlie’s day.”
“You’re right. I should go.” Ileana’s cheeks reddened like her dress. Hurt and anger warred in her eyes.
“No!” his mother intervened. “I invited you. I want you to stay. Please. For me.”
From the look on Ileana’s face, she knew his mom was using her cancer to get her way. And Ileana was going to cave. What had gotten into his mom? She’d never done anything like this before. All she would succeed in doing would be to hurt Ileana and frustrate him.
“All right. I’ll stay,” Ileana agreed.
Michael wanted to growl his frustration. He wanted to kiss those beautiful lips, lift that full skirt and thrust his body into hers until she knew how he really felt about her, and he also wanted to be on the other side of the room so he wouldn’t be tempted with the forbidden fruit. He couldn’t tell her either what her father had done or how Michael had chosen between his mother and Ileana. Guilt and self-loathing ate at him. And despair.
Michael caught his mother staring intently at him and quickly smoothed his face. She had teacher radar where secrets were concerned. He and his brothers had never gotten away with anything, and more than half the time, they confessed under her scrutiny. But she would not break him this time.
Rick wedged himself into their midst. He had his arm protectively around his wife, a hugely pregnant young woman with black hair and pale skin. “It’s nice to see you again, Miss Calderon. I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Analise.”
Ileana and Analise shook hands. Except for her belly, Analise was a petite woman dwarfed by Rick’s height and breadth. Yet they looked like they fit well together. And they glowed with love for each other. A sharp pain stabbed Michael in the stomach. No, he was not jealous of Rick’s happiness.
“Rick told me about you,” Analise said to Ileana. “I’m so glad you came.”
Ileana glanced at Michael and guilt ate at him again.
“Are you feeling all right, dear?” his mother asked Analise.
“I’m fine. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“The doctor’s talking possible bed rest,” Rick blurted, despite Analise’s shushing motions.
“Bed rest,” his mother exclaimed, alarm clear on her face.
Analise gave Rick a disapproving look. “It’s precautionary.”
“Then by all means sit down.” Michael’s father set a chair behind her and gently pushed her into it.
Mrs. Ziffkin frowned. “Maybe Rick should take you home.”
“Nonsense,” Analise exclaimed, putting her hands on her belly. “I’m only having a baby. It’s not like I’m sick or anything. Jane, tell your son how when you had cancer you didn’t let anything stop you.”
Michael sucked in his breath. He heard a similar sound from Ileana. His mother’s face fell for only a moment, and then she rallied.
“You’re right, Analise. I lived life to the fullest. But that’s my first grandchild you’re carrying. Precious cargo, you know. Handle with care.”
Rick and Analise looked at one another with such love that it hurt Michael to see it. It hurt him more to know his mom was putting her own worries aside to take care of them.
“I’ll lie down while they’re taking pictures,” Analise promised. She hugged Mrs. Ziffkin.
During the photo session, his mom assigned Michael and Ileana to watch Analise and make sure she rested. Although he was grateful for the third party, which prevented the discussion he knew Ileana wanted, the looks she shot him spoke volumes; he wished his sister-in-law were anywhere but here. The sooner he set Ileana straight, well, the sooner they could get over this obsession they seemed to feel for each other.
But Analise fell asleep almost immediately, her head pillowed on Michael’s suit jacket. He and Ileana would have to whisper in order not to wake her.
They watched the photo setups like two strangers. Charlie and Juliana glowed like tiny supernovas with their newfound happiness. They’d met again this winter and within two weeks had gotten engaged. Rick glowed too. He and Analise had met, fallen in love, and married less than two weeks later. Both his brothers had found instant happiness. Well, technically, Charlie had grown up with Juliana, but he hadn’t shown romantic interest in her until they reached puberty. And then her father had put an entire town between them.
Michael had felt instantly attracted to Ileana. The ache in his pants was a constant reminder of her nearness. Staring at her feminine profile made him even harder—those full, immensely kissable lips, those surprisingly round, proud breasts, the small waist, the full skirt under which she wore no panty hose—he’d checked. What he wouldn’t give to be alone with her in one of those darkened rooms down the hall. He’d sit in a chair and lift her over his lap and let her slide slowly down onto his cock. He’d fill her sweet body while clutching that small waist in his hands. On the upward movement, he’d stop her so he could suckle those outthrust breasts.
God, his hard-on was painful.
Ileana turned to him then, and whatever hunger was on his face made her mouth drop open. Slowly she licked her lips. Her eyes glinted with her desire. He got even harder. He wanted to kiss those lips, spend hours tasting and nibbling them, and let her taste his own.