Fierce Love (22 page)

She reached up to kiss him. “If you have the right partner,” she whispered against his lips. There couldn’t be just one person meant for another, but they blended so perfectly physically, and emotionally, she wished the rest of their lives were as easily meshed. She closed her mind to concentrate on the heat of his skin, the scent she’d grown to love, and leaned into him when he’d tossed his shirt toward the couch and missed.

He scooped her up into his arms and laughed with her. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about American girls.”

“No, you shouldn’t, but I’ve forgiven you.”

He set her on her feet and helped her out of her skirt. “You have beautiful legs. Have I ever said that?”

“No, but you may say it as often as you like.” She kicked off her shoes, and spread out on his bed still in her lingerie. She considered how he might look in something other than black, but the images weren’t appealing. He laughed often with her now, but his darker, more mysterious nature lay just beneath the surface. She thought she was much better off not knowing more about him than she already did. It was just enough.

He stretched out beside her and unhooked her bra. “You distract me even when you’re not here. Do you ever think of me?”

“Occasionally.” She ran her fingers through his hair rather than admit how often. “You distract me too, then.”

“Like this?”

He leaned down to brush his cheek against her now bare breast, and she slid her fingers up his thigh. “Do you mind if I begin with your toes and kiss my way up?”

He leaned back. “How far up?”

“Maybe your knees?”

“For a start?”

She licked her lips. “No promises. I might become distracted at your ankles.”

His deep laugh echoed through the small apartment. “I don’t care what anyone says about American girls. I like them.” He rolled her panties down her legs and dropped them on the floor.

She twisted her finger in his navel to tickle him. “You have a wonderful laugh.”

“Only with you.”

She rose to kiss him and forgot all about his toes. His kisses held the heat of flamenco and left her melted into a languid pool. She’d dated men who could kiss, but Rafael raised it to an art form. All she had to do was hang on. She slid her hand down his belly, and he pushed it lower. She draped her leg over his hip and nudged his cock along her cleft. The smooth tip made the perfect wand, and she stroked him as she stroked herself.

He broke away. “I’m going to lose it.”

She drew in a deep breath. “Shall we count to ten?”

He opened a condom. “I might make it to three.”

“One, two.” He eased into her, and she ceased counting. He lay still within her, and she ran her hands down his back, then rolled her hips.

He kissed her and pulled her down into his bliss where she could have rested forever. It was a glorious hammock of love, she thought to herself, then giggled. “I’m sorry, I just thought of a title for a truly awful country and western song.”

He lay poised above her. “I refuse to be in an awful song. Make it a good one.”

“I won’t write lyrics, just music we can dance to.”

“That’s better.” He tickled her ear with his tongue. “I didn’t know you wrote music.”

“I never had an inspiration before you.”

He kissed her to renew the magic, and she wished it might never end.

Saturday morning, Maggie could barely keep her eyes open when she joined her father for breakfast. He caught her hiding her third yawn and laughed.

“Is Rafael that good in bed?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered before realizing it was an inappropriate question from her father.

“I hope you haven’t become too fond of him.”

She couldn’t deny it. “How would it be a problem?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I may have been overly generous in my assessment of his talents.”

Instantly wide awake, she nearly ripped her napkin in half. “You mean Santos was right, and he isn’t ready?”

Miguel shrugged. “He may give an inspired performance tomorrow. We’ll have to wait and see. I told him not to come by today. Bullfighting is as much mental as physical, and he needs the time to himself.”

Rafael had told her the same thing, only he’d been confident things would go well for him. “Is Santos here?”

“Probably, but don’t ask him to watch out for Rafael. The men all naturally rush to each other’s aid, and it isn’t necessary. Plus, it would infuriate Rafael if he learned you’d had such little faith in him, and Santos would be sure to tell him.”

“That’s true.” She felt sick, and when Dr. Moreno came to the door, she was relieved to leave. She made it back to her room and into the bathroom to puke in the toilet, then, exhausted in mind and spirit, lay down on her bed and slept until afternoon. Once awake, she remained seated on her bed and hugged herself tightly. She’d already been horribly apprehensive, but her father’s off-hand remark about Rafael’s ability had disintegrated what little strength she’d had.

Rafael was no fool, but it was difficult to believe in him when her father’s opinion wavered. He was ill, so perhaps his judgment wasn’t what it should be. She got up to walk as far as the chair on her balcony, and feeling lost, stared out at the sea. When Fox came to her door, she didn’t know where the hours had gone.

“Aren’t you coming to dinner?” he asked. He looked pained by the ghastly possibility he might be forced to dine with his grandmother and aunt without an ally.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling up to it.”

He pressed his head against the doorjamb briefly, and then brightened. “I’ll tell them you’re ill and offer to bring you a tray and stay with you. Grandmother won’t care, and it’ll be a good excuse.”

“Thank you, Fox. I’d love to have dinner with you, but don’t expect me to eat.”

“Thanks, you’ve saved my life.”

Half an hour passed before Tomas’s helper, Julian, carried in a tray. Fox followed. “Tomas says soup is best for you. He sent crackers and ginger ale. Will the aroma of the food on my plate upset you?”

“No, come sit here with me.” She thanked Julian and waited for him to leave before she questioned Fox. “Isn’t Santos here?”

“No. He’s gone to his apartment where he keeps all his gear. I could get his number if you want to call him.”

“No, thank you. I won’t bother him, but I wish he’d stopped to tell me he was going home.”

“He did. You were asleep. He knew where you’d been last night and laughed about it. You’ll see him tomorrow.”

She bit into a cracker. It tasted like cardboard, and she washed it down with a sip of ginger ale. The bubbles tickled her nose. “You saw Rafael out at the ranch. Did he look weak to you?”

“What do you mean? Not up to the challenge of a bullfight?”

“Yes.”

“No.” He took a large forkful of baked chicken. “Why didn’t you watch the video if you’re so curious?”

She gave up on the cracker and tasted the cream of chicken soup. It was smooth and delicious. “I can’t bear to watch him face a bull. If he were gored, I’d never forget it.”

He nodded as he chewed another mouthful. “What, the sight of it or losing him?”

She gulped her ginger ale. “Both.”

“Guys get tossed in the air all the time. Sometimes all the bull caught was the seat of their pants and they get up and come right back at the bull. Check the bullfighting videos on YouTube.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, there are dozens of them.”

“Lord help us.”

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “What are you doing with a matador if you can’t stomach a bullfight?”

“That’s an excellent question, but the man sure can dance.”

He looked at her askance. “Was it love at first sight?”

She shook her head. “No, not at all.” She had noticed Rafael’s scent, though, but no one ever said they fell in love with their nose.

He wiped his plate clean with the last bite of a roll. “Tomas has some lemon sorbet. Do you want some?”

She swallowed another spoonful of soup. “Thank you, but I think I’ll pass.”

Fox stood and then hesitated and returned to his chair. “Dr. Moreno usually doesn’t say more to me than good morning, but today he asked when I’m going back to school. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

“Odd how?”

“It could have been a warning that Miguel might not have much time left. It was the way he said it; maybe he was warning me not to go.”

“Could be, but we know Miguel’s not well, and that he won’t get better. Do you have other family?”

“No, the Aragons are it.”

She assumed her father had provided for Fox in his will, or he might have a trust from his mother’s estate, but he was much too young to be on his own. “I’ve changed my mind. Will you bring me some of the sorbet?”

“Sure I will.”

Once he was gone, she realized how little she’d considered the sad situation the rest of her father’s family faced. This was probably her only stay in their world, and she could imagine what it would be like without Miguel to hold it together. Vida Ramos’s two children could depend on her. The twins had their mother. She and Santos were grown, but Fox had the barest tie to the Aragon family, and Carmen and Cirilda were unlikely to do more than buy him an airline ticket back to school.

He had warmed to her, though, and she wouldn’t abandon him to a sterile boarding school. An English boy would be popular at Catalina Foothills, but he would be a most unusual souvenir from her summer vacation. So would a dashing matador
,
and she could envision Craig’s baffled disapproval. Thinking of him, she had a ready smile when Fox returned with the best sorbet she’d ever eaten.

“This is tart without being too sharp,” he mused as a food critic would. “I like the sprig of peppermint too. Presentation is everything in a dessert, don’t you agree?”

“I do, although a piece of chocolate cake on a paper plate has enormous appeal.”

He nodded and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What do you suppose will be in Augustín’s missing memoir?”

She answered just as quietly. “It’s no longer missing, but I’m hoping for some honest comments about his home and family.”

“I can’t imagine Carmen ever being young and pretty.”

“I’m just as sure she was, whether or not you can visualize it.”

“Are you keeping a journal?” he asked.

She waited for a spoonful of sorbet to melt in her mouth. “I was, but somehow life has gotten ahead of me. What about you?”

“I started one once, even made up a code so my schoolmates couldn’t snatch it away from me and read it aloud. I lost interest after a while. You feel well enough now to go downstairs and watch a movie?”

He was looking down at his empty bowl as though her answer didn’t matter that much to him, but his shy glance proved otherwise. “Yes, let’s do that.”

He went downstairs to make certain Carmen and Cirilda had left the dining room and gone to their rooms before she joined him in the den. The sofa was cloud-soft, and she sank into her seat and pretended to watch a film she could not have described later as being a crime thriller or a space adventure. It passed two hours of time, however, and she was grateful for a mindless reprieve.

Sunday morning, Maggie woke up early, put on her bikini and went down to the beach to swim. The days were gathering heat building toward their summer highs, but the water was still cool. She swam out and then horizontal to the coast. The Costa Daurada was such a beautiful sparkling place, but all she wanted to do was swim past her fears.

When she grew tired long before that happened, she swam to the shore to find Fox and Rafael waiting for her.

Rafael handed her a towel. “You shouldn’t swim alone.”

“There are lots of people in the water.” She flipped her hair out of her eyes and wrapped herself in the towel.

His frown didn’t lift. “True, but they’re not looking out for you.”

“I’m out now,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

Fox backed away. “I know where this is leading. I’ll see you later.”

She turned toward the sea, and Rafael moved close and draped his arm around her shoulders. “I want you to come to the corrida.”

His closeness felt so good, but his request made her heart fall with a silent splat. If they never had to get out of bed, they’d do fine, but reality yanked the covers right off them. “Young men recognize you here on the beach. There will be plenty of people there to see you.”

His voice dropped to a seductive hush. “You’re the one I want.”

Savoring his words, she leaned against him. He behaved as though desire was all that mattered. She nearly suffocated on desire when he was near, but what he wanted and what she needed were too entirely different things. “It isn’t that I don’t care, I do. I hope you won’t think it’s disloyal of me not to go, but please, I couldn’t bear to watch. I know you’ll dazzle everyone there.”

“Thank you, but I still want you to come.”