I don’t know why I’m rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off. Craig is due here any moment, and I’m busy setting the dining room table. I baked Cornish game hens with homemade stuffing, grilled asparagus with Gorgonzola and roasted walnuts, and sweet potato casserole. I’m afraid to tell Garrick and Robyn I’m moving out tomorrow. After I fold the last linen napkin and place the silverware on it, the doorbell sounds. I untie my apron, walk through the kitchen, place the apron on the counter, then head for the living room.
I open the front door. “Hey, baby.” Craig is holding a large bouquet of white lilies and a bottle of wine.
My gaze sweeps over him. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit. The two-button jacket hugs his broad shoulders and is effortlessly elegant. I suck in a breath. Does he know how hard it is to resist him?
“Inviting me in?” he asks playfully. “Or am I expected to stand here on display all night?”
“Your ears must have been burning,” I say, moving out of the way. “I was just thinking about you.”
He steps inside, then leans down. “Shall I tell you what part of me is burning? Not my ears, Marisela.” He nips my neck, sending wicked shivers up my spine.
“Oh God,” I whisper. We haven’t even made it through supper yet and I want to rip his clothes off. He puts the wine and flowers down on a nearby table, then wraps his arms around me.
“You look stunning,” he compliments.
I’m wearing a navy Dorothy Perkins lace pencil dress. I love the way it clings to my body in all the right places. “Thank you.”
He runs his fingers underneath the collar. Excitement rushes through me. Whenever our bodies touch, sparks fly. It’s astonishing. He feels it too, his eyes growing darker. He steps back. “Come home with me tonight.”
Before I can answer, Garrick appears on the far side of the living room. “Craig,” he says, striding over. They shake hands.
“How’s it going, bro?” Craig asks.
“Picked up a new contract with the state last week. Plenty of bridges to redesign,” Garrick answers.
I sneak away before Craig presses me for an answer. I join Robyn in the kitchen. She smiles at me. “Nervous?”
“No,” I lie, praying it doesn’t show. “Preoccupied.”
I watch as she opens the oven and pulls out the apple pie I made. It smells delicious. I grab a fork off the counter and hover over the pastry. The crust is golden brown and crispy-looking. She bats my hand away.
“Don’t even think about it.” She wags a finger at me.
“I made it. Someone needs to be the taste tester.”
I look up just as Craig and Garrick enter the kitchen. “Everything smells delicious, baby.” Garrick kisses Robyn’s cheek.
“Don’t give me the credit,” Robyn says. “Marisela slaved away in the kitchen all day, not me.”
Craig’s eyes light up as he approaches me. “You cook, too?”
I nod.
“I’ll remember that,” he says seductively.
“For what?” I croak. I’m useless around him.
As if Robyn knows what’s happening, she drags Garrick out of the kitchen. Craig takes advantage of the alone time and lowers his mouth to mine. His tongue slides gently between my lips as he braces his hands on my hips. He moans, circling my arms with his fingers. “I haven’t been inside you for two days, Marisela,” he rumbles. “I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me.”
I stare up at him. “No.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his full lips. “I’m glad to hear it. You’re coming home with me tonight.”
“Isn’t that my choice to make?”
He laughs darkly. “No, it’s not.”
I’ve only caught glimpses of the possessive man Craig is rumored to be. The scene at the beach party where he caught me holding hands with Justin is a stark reminder. “We’ll see if you feel that way after you taste my food.”
He laughs. “If it tastes half as good as you…” He effortlessly lifts me off my feet and places me gently on the countertop, then slips between my thighs. “…I’ll have another reason to be hopelessly addicted to you.”
I can’t keep my hands off Marisela. The dress she’s wearing is hot as hell—and her firm little ass looks too good in it. I’m sitting across from her at the table. I take a last bite of apple pie and wipe my mouth with my napkin. “You surprise me, Marisela Gonzalez.”
“How so?” she asks coyly.
“Not too many girls your age cook like this.”
“I credit my mother,” she answers. “She’s a strict Catholic—honor and obey. Cooking is part of the package.”
Robyn and Garrick laugh.
I drop my napkin on my plate and push it aside. “Ready to spill?” I ask.
Marisela gasps in surprise. “How did you know?”
I slant my head. She’s been off track tonight. “Out with it.”
She glances at Robyn, then back at me. “I’m moving in with Macey tomorrow night,” she blurts.
I growl. The thought of her living in that house drives me crazy. Before I started dating Marisela, I attended too many parties there. “Hell no.”
Robyn looks utterly shocked. “No, Marisela,” she says. “Macey is my best friend, but do you have any idea what goes on over there?”
Garrick opens then closes his mouth. He stares coldly at Marisela.
“I think we’d better go outside and have a little chat,” I suggest, rising from my chair.
Marisela crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m perfectly capable of choosing where I live.” Her gaze zigzags around the table. “I’m practically smothered here, Robyn. I love you, but I need my own space. And with you and Garrick expecting your firstborn, don’t you want your privacy back?”
Garrick drums his fingers on the table. “If we wanted you to leave, we’d ask. What about an apartment?”
Robyn whips around and stares at her husband questioningly.
“What?” he asks. “Am I the only one who understands why she wants her own place?”
“Hey!” Marisela stands up. “Why are you guys talking like I’m not here?”
“We’re not,” Robyn denies. “You’ve only been home a few weeks. And what about Estevan? What if…”
“I’m not going to live my life afraid of him,” Marisela says. “Craig is capable—”
“Outside, Marisela.” I’m standing under the archway into the living room. She follows me through the front door. “I don’t want you to move in with Macey. End of discussion.”
She smirks at me. “This behavior is a bit uncharacteristic of you.”
“I’ve been very patient with you, haven’t I?”
She nods silently.
“I’m not in the habit of telling women what they can and can’t do…unless the woman is fucking out of her mind.” Her mouth drops open. “That’s right,” I say. “Now you know how it felt to get broadsided with your news at the dinner table.”
“It’s a home, not a whorehouse.”
I lean in, captivated by her analogy. “Funny choice of words.”
She gapes at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Sit.” She does. “Macey’s place offers all the luxuries anyone could want. I understand the temptation. Did you know her roommate is a swinger?”
Her shoulders droop. “I didn’t.”
“Not something Macey felt obligated to disclose, I see.” I rub the back of my neck, taking a deep breath while controlling my temper. “We’re not ganging up on you. We’re trying to protect you.”
“I’m emotionally drained, Craig. I let Estevan run my life for too long. After seeing him again in San Antonio, I want to live a little for myself. I like Macey and the house,
a lot.
”
That should be a good enough reason to convince me. I get it. But frustration over the threat her ex poses negates any understanding. “No matter how much I want to support your decision, I can’t.”
She leans forward in the wicker rocking chair and stares across the street. “Will it affect our relationship?”
I kneel in front of her, gathering her long hair in my hands. I kiss the exposed skin on her neck. “No, baby,” I reluctantly admit. “But my crazy meter will jump off the charts if anything happens to you.” The safest alternative is for her to move in with me. Something I’ve never asked a woman to do. She’s wormed her way into my heart. I smile.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say, nibbling her ear. “Postpone the move for a few days. Give Robyn a chance to deal with it. Give me a chance.” There’s little point in me trying to coerce her—she needs to make her own decisions, no matter how much I might disagree.
She sighs, casting a sidelong glance at me. “All right. One week, not a day more. I can’t possibly expect Macey to hold the room longer—she needs another roommate.”
“Shall we go inside and explain it to your sister? She’s had enough surprises to last a lifetime.”
Marisela snickers. I don’t think she really understands how close I came to killing Estevan or how deeply her decisions affect Robyn and Garrick. She’s young, not stupid. I watch her stand up and head for the door. I sympathize with her—she’s desperate to carve out her own existence. If I could change the last year of her life, erase any memories she has of that piece-of-shit ex, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
Robyn and Garrick are waiting for us in the dining room.
“Well?” Robyn asks, looking between us.
Marisela gazes at me, then her sister. “Craig convinced me to wait another week before I commit to anything. I think we should invite Macey to lunch and discuss things.”
A slow smile spreads across Robyn’s face. “I’m so relieved.” She gives me a quick thumbs-up. I nod.
I change the subject. “Have any more pie?”
I get the
are you crazy
look from both sisters. “You’re a pig,” Robyn laughs.
“Glad to hear your opinion of me hasn’t changed much.”
Garrick rolls his eyes. Robyn holds her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean it like
that.
”
I throw her my best smile. “You know what they say, once a pig…”
“Not that kind of pig anymore,” Marisela corrects. She disappears into the kitchen, then returns with a piece of whipped-cream-smothered pie. “Will this do?”
I nod, taking the plate. I devour it in one minute flat.
An hour later I pull into my driveway with Marisela. I didn’t give her a chance to say no. The threat of her living on Ocean Drive in that Hefner mansion with all those wannabe Playmates running around and the fact that I can’t keep my hands off her in that dress gives me every reason to bring her home. She hasn’t said a word yet. I slip out of the car. When I open her door and offer my hand, she climbs out. I can tell she’s got something on her mind.
“Upset?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Do you believe in predestination?” She gazes up at me.
“I don’t believe in coincidences, if that’s what you mean.” I don’t. Everything happens for a reason. Everything.
“It’s deeper than that,” she says. “Think about it like a clock. If I was at the club one second later the first night we met again, we wouldn’t be standing here now. Or if I never took that taxi to my sister’s house two years ago, I would never have met you.”
“Or you could look at it a little differently,” I offer. “No matter where or what we’re doing, nothing could keep us apart if the universe intended for us to be together.”
She gawks at me. “Where did that come from?”
I shrug. “I’m a sensitive kind of guy.”
“Really?” She laughs. “When did you discover that?”
“When I started caring about you.”
The smile disappears from her face. “Didn’t see that one coming.” She averts her eyes. “Maybe you should stop investing so much time and energy in me.”
I don’t like the sudden change in her attitude. “You should have considered that before you encouraged me, girl.”
“You’re right,” she admits. “I remember the night I met you. How you stared at my sister. I thought you were Garrick.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Then you found out…”
“…you were asshole Craig,” we finish the sentence together.
She walks a few feet away. She looks surreal in the silvery moonlight. “Seems like a perfect night for confessions,” she says.
I know she’s holding back a lot of things. But when a beautiful woman starts talking about confessing, I usually find the closest exit. “What’s troubling you, Marisela?”
“Everything.”
“That’s not an answer.”
She gazes at me again with deadpan eyes. “It’s hard for me to express myself sometimes.”
“Since when?” I can’t recall a time when this girl has ever failed to make her feelings known. How many F-bombs has she thrown my way in the last month? “No one can hear you,” I say, inching closer. “Just me.”
“My point exactly.”
I look at my watch: nine thirty. “I have all night.”
“I don’t,” she says with a hard edge to her voice. Then, “I’m sorry.” She suddenly changes direction. “Can I have a drink?”
“Wait a second.” I place my hands on her shoulders. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”
“Thanks, but no thanks, Dr. Phil.”
I smirk. “Is that who I remind you of? I have too much hair.”
“No.”
“Good.” I tilt her chin upward. “What is it, darlin’?”
“If I tell you, everything will change.”
I throw my hands up, frustrated. Fishing for black drum is one thing, but for answers…“Goddamnit, Marisela, I’m not a mind reader.”
“Don’t yell at me.”
I swallow.
Did I raise my voice?
“Didn’t mean to.”
She nods. “Please, let this go.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
I fist my hands. Is this the reason God made women last? Irreconcilable leftover pieces zapped into a perfect package. “Remember that trust thing? Out with it.”
She repositions herself, giving herself ample room to run if she needs to. Did she lie about something? Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
“I’ve had a big crush on you since the night we met at my sister’s apartment.”
Boom.
Her words hit me in the chest like two tons of rubble. I’m an egotistical bastard—I half smile. But I see the fear in her eyes. No wonder she wanted to drop it. The last time she told a guy she had feelings for him, Estevan used it as leverage to do whatever he wanted to her. My smile quickly fades. It’s not a love confession, but it’s close enough. “The feelings are mutual.”