Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set (10 page)

"So how petrified was this squirrel?" she asked as she munched on some of the chips she had prepared.

He raised his hands and forced them into imaginary claws, made a snarly face, and when she laughed as he had intended, he said, "As stiff and flat as a piece of
bacalao
on
Noche Buena
."

Bianca could imagine the salted and dried codfish her mother prepared every Christmas Eve. The fish was hard and rigid, like a wooden board until it got soaked to get rid of all the salt. "At least that's the worst thing you've found," she replied.

"Yeah, well, that and general filth sometimes, especially on some of these fixer-uppers like my place," he said and took a bite of sandwich.

"You said you lived nearby," she said, wanting to know more about him.

Rey shrugged, clearly uneasy with being the subject of her undivided attention. "Just a few blocks from here, actually. I bought a really run-down multi-family house about three years ago and did major work to make it habitable."

"Multi-family? Do you rent it out?"

He shook his head. "I didn't have the cash to totally finish it so I made special arrangements with some folks."

"A position I am well familiar with myself," she jumped in and they both laughed.

"Yeah, well, it was even harder back then. There was a slump of sorts in the housing market. I couldn't really get enough work and I was forced to do a lot of odd jobs, but in a way that was good. It gave me more time to fix up the house." He stopped for a moment to take another bite of the sandwich.

"So how did you get the money to buy it?" she asked.

"Daisy and I wanted my mom nearby. Maya's parents were getting kicked out of their apartment which was going co-op. Since Maya and Daisy's business had just taken off, they put up a large part of the money for the building in exchange for my doing the work to make it habitable. We co-own the place and each of us lives on one of the floors," he explained.

"It must be weird having all those parents watching your every move," Bianca said, making a face.

Rey groaned and rolled his eyes. "Let's just say that it's a good thing I don't have much of a personal life."

Bianca looked at up at him quickly, grinning. "Is that so?"

He realized how much he had inadvertently revealed and blushed, started to stammer out an explanation, but Bianca laid a hand on his lips to silence him.

"Don't, Rey. There's nothing you need to explain," she said, inordinately pleased by what he had revealed.

Rey ducked his head down and stood abruptly. He glanced at her, bent to pick up his tank top and slip it back on. It was darker in spots where it was still wet. "I need to get back to work. I'll see you later."

Bianca nodded and admired the masculine swagger in his hips as he walked away and the brief sizzling look he tossed back over his shoulder at her. He was such a puzzle, she thought, wondering at the seemingly successful man who still kept an eye out for not only his own mom, but a friend's parents as well. If his mom and Maya's parents were anything like her own, poor Rey probably didn't stand a chance of having any kind of peace. Constant requests for a little something, but also visits and calls to make sure he was okay.

Despite their little bargain that she would provide him the meals he missed when he worked late, she suspected that between both sets of parents, he rarely went without a home-cooked meal.

Which made her wonder at the motivation behind their bargain.

She had sensed interest on his part, as well as concern that he was attracted to her. Not that she was feeling any different. From the moment she had caught her first glimpse of him, there had definitely been lust, she admitted freely. She'd seen his body and his face and the animal in her had responded.

But after that initial flare had come more.

She was discovering that he was so much more than a great body and a pretty face. Although he tried to hide it, he was an artist, with depths she was eager to explore. To be fair to him, herself, and David, she knew there was one thing she had to do before she could go ahead with that exploration.

* * *

David sat across from her, sipping a spirited chardonnay he had ordered to accompany their meal, which was now almost finished.

Bianca pushed around the peas on her plate, dreading the moment to come and what she would say. But she knew she had delayed long enough already. If they finished dessert and afterward got to the "Where are we going to go?" part of the night, she knew it might get even more complicated. Better to get the issue out in the open now.

"David, we need to talk," she said softly, reached for own glass of wine, and took a sip to give herself some false courage.

David bobbed his head sharply at the tone in her voice. "Bianca, you sound way too serious."

She grabbed the glass with both hands. "You and me. . .I know that you've been wondering when we're going to take our relationship to the next level," she hedged.

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, an uncertain look on his face, as if he sensed the discussion to follow was not going to be what he expected. "I've been hoping that the two of us might, you know. . .I like you a lot, Bianca."

Damn, this was going to be harder than she had thought. Placing her glass on the table, she laid her hand on David's and squeezed it gently. "I like you, too, David. But there's a big difference between like and love."

"Love doesn't happen instantaneously."

"Maybe it does and maybe it doesn't. The thing is, David. I just don't see love happening for us." She hesitated, but knew he deserved the whole truth. "I met someone else who I'm attracted to. Who I'm feeling things for that I've never felt before."

"That you never felt about me. Is that it?" he asked, tracing the bones of her hand with a finger.

"Sort of," she answered without deception. "I'm sorry, David. I didn't go looking for this."

"I never thought you did, Bianca. You've always been a lady and totally honest with me." David shook his head and slipped his hand from hers.

She shifted away as well, leaning back into her chair. "I don't know what else to say, except I'm certain this is what's best."

David nodded. "Maybe. Do you mind me asking who he is?"

It was awkward for her, giving voice to something that was yet so uncertain in her mind and in her heart. "I'd rather not. It wouldn't be right."

"It's not right for me to know who the competition is?"

Bianca glanced down and toyed with the fine linen napkin in her lap. "It's not a competition. It's about what two people feel for each other and we just don't feel the right way."

"Speak for yourself," he said with such vehemence that she was forced to meet his gaze. "I care for you, Bianca. And I want you to know that if it doesn't work out with this guy, whoever he is, I'll still be there for you."

"I'd rather you didn't wait."

David considered her words and then softly said, "I hope it works out for you."

She nodded and thanked him, grateful that he was being a gentleman about it. Hoping that one day, he would find that special someone as well.

Chapter Eight

Rey leaned back against the tree as Bianca grabbed a strawberry from the small paper bowl of fruit salad. The berry was a deep crimson red and glistened from the juices of the fruit salad. She brought the berry to her lips, those lips he had been lusting after since the first day he had seen her. They were as red and luscious-looking as the berry. She bit into it and the juices from the berry squirted out all over her mouth.

Bianca smiled and wiped the juices away with the back of her hand. She glanced at him and her smile broadened as she noted his interest.

"Want some?" she asked and held out the berry, like Eve with the proverbial forbidden fruit.

He grasped her wrist and leaned forward until he was able to take a bite of the last of the berry, leaving only the stem and hull between her fingers. He didn't release her wrist, but met her gaze, grinned, and said, "This was delicious, but I think I know something that would be even tastier."

Bianca smiled and bent toward him until it was all too easy to move his hand up the bare skin of her arm, and tunnel it beneath the thick luxuriant mane of her shoulder length hair.

"What would that be?" she asked, but even as she said it, she was smiling and he was drawing her closer until her lips were a scant inch away from his.

"You," he murmured and took possession of her lips, licking the juices of the berry from them, and then the sweet succulence of her mouth. He kept eating at her lips, drawing sustenance from them, from her groan, and how she moved her hand to cup the back of his head to keep him close.

"Bianca," he said against her lips, separating from her and glancing around. There were too many eyes watching them from afar. Alex and Maya over by the tubs with the sodas. Daisy and Brad, who were leaning on Brad's Navigator and talking, but shooting an occasional peek their way.

"Rey," she pleaded and brought her lips to his again, her tongue tracing the outline of his mouth to request entry.

He opened his mouth and she danced her tongue against his until they were both breathing rapidly and the kiss was no longer enough. He wanted her so badly, his hand at the back of her neck was shaking. There was a similar tension in her body, but there was little he could do with so many eyes watching them.

Bianca seemed to have no such inhibitions.

She moved close to him and straddled his legs until she was sitting in his lap.

"This is crazy," he said, trying to stop her as she brought her hands to his shoulders and ran them across the bare skin.

"No, this is totally right," she replied and laced her hands behind his head to drag his lips back to hers.

Her scent enveloped him as did the heat of her body against nearly every inch of him. Her legs cradled him, his erection nestling at the center of her. When she moved her hips, he groaned and grabbed hold of her waist to keep her still.

"Bianca, please," he pleaded. "We can't. . .not here."

She ignored him, continuing to kiss his lips and run her hands all along his body.

"I want you," she urged, and grabbed his hand at her waist, inched it upward beneath the hem of her shirt.

The muscles of her stomach trembled beneath the back of his hand as he rubbed it there. Slowly, he inched his hand upward until he cupped her breast.

He groaned as he realized she was naked beneath the cotton of the small tank top.

She fit perfectly in his palm and her nipple was beaded, hard for him. As he held her breast, he passed his thumb over the tip, drawing a sharp little gasp from her.

Bianca pulled away slightly then, looked down and watched as he caressed her. Leaning her forehead against his and continuing to watch, she huskily said, "That feels good. I like you touching me."

Rey whispered softly in her ear, "I can make it even better."

Watching his hand beneath the fabric of her shirt as it if were no longer connected to him, he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rotated, pulled, and pinched at it until her breath was choppy against his face and she hungrily brought her lips to his again.

Bianca moved her hands down his chest. Her palms were smooth and warm as they slipped over his skin. She skimmed them across his chest, fluttered down to run an index finger along the upper ridges of his abdomen, and then up to trace the scar along his ribs.

"Rey, how did this happen?" she asked innocently and his blood ran cold as the scar deepened in color, becoming a deep, angry red, searing him with pain.

Reminding him of why she could never really be his.

He bolted upright in bed, his breathing heavy and erratic. His state of arousal deflating quickly as he ran his hand over his left side and glanced down.

There was nothing different there, just the long ridge of scar that was raised and slightly whiter against the rest of his skin. It wasn't all that ragged or ugly. Just an inches long slash across one of his ribs.

Slightly numb, unlike the pain had only been in his dream.

But there was pain deep inside him at what he had done. At what he had put his family through. And the scar was a constant reminder of mistakes made and prices paid for a young man's stupidity.

For a young man's shame.

The policemen and doctors at the emergency room had told him he was lucky. The bullet had only glanced along his rib, digging a shallow furrow through his skin instead of puncturing his lung. The force of the shot hadn't even broken his rib, although there had been substantial bruising and pain in the days that followed.

As he had lain in that hospital room, the last thing he had felt was lucky. On the contrary, on more than one occasion in the months that had followed, he had wished that the bullet's aim had been truer. It would have spared him from seeing the disappointment and hurt on his mother's face. The anguish on his little sister's face as she said goodbye at the courthouse and afterward, as she visited him at the minimum security prison to which he had been sent.