Here Comes Trouble (2 page)

He came forward with a slow, rolling walk, as though he had all the time in the world. She wanted to be immune to him, but she’d had a crush on him ever since they met four years ago, and he’d been the object of many fantasies since then. Their relationship, though short-lived, had impacted her greatly.

Right now he looked like every woman’s fantasy, despite what he wore. Who else but Matthew could wear a pale-gray-and-pink striped shirt with a pink tie beneath a sweater vest and still look so masculine?

Swagger. That was the only way to describe his walk and his appeal. He had an abundance of it.

He came to a standstill a few feet in front of her, next to her desk, making the one-window office seem more like a broom closet. He’d been in her office two minutes, and she was already heating up. Her nerve endings trembled with awareness because he looked at her with those dark-brown eyes as if he was mentally undressing her. Knowing Matthew, he probably was. It made her feel naked, and it made her think of the other times he’d looked at her in the same way and what they’d ended up doing right here in this office.

“I don’t need your money.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he said in a low voice. When he lowered his voice to that pitch, she could hardly think. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

His sister, Cassidy, who happened to be Lorena’s best friend, was the wife of her brother, Antonio. Normally, their families interacted on a regular basis, but ever since she and Matthew had stopped seeing each other, she hadn’t participated in any more get-togethers she knew he’d attend.

“Like I said, I’ve been busy.”

“So busy you can’t hang out? I miss you.”

Lorena laughed, shaking her head, pushing away the spurt of joy that filled her chest. They were empty sentiments from a smooth-talking player who wanted to get his way. She had to remember that, no matter how much pleasure the words roused.

“I don’t believe you for one minute.”

“I need your help.” 

“I don’t care. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Not on a business level or on a personal level. I wouldn’t have anything to do with you if you were the last person on earth and I needed your money so I wouldn’t lose my business.”

“That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it? The last person on earth?” His boyish grin made her heart flutter.

She had to hold it together. “That’s what I said. The last.”

“Look, I know you hate me, but could you set aside your anger for a minute and listen to what I have to say?”

“Why should I? I don’t owe you anything.” She crossed her arms over her chest, but when his eyes lowered to how the movement plumped up her breasts, she unfolded them and dropped them back down to her sides.

“I know you don’t, but—”

“Well if you know, why ask?”

He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration, the movement flexing his biceps, bringing them into more prominence beneath the dress shirt. “Nothing I say will make any difference, will it? I’ve already apologized for what I did, but it doesn’t matter to you.”

“You’re right, because you’re an insensitive jerk.”

He had the gall to roll his eyes toward the ceiling. “Yes, I know. I heard the message you left after we broke up.”

“After you broke up with me via text, you
ass
!” Lorena said between gritted teeth. “A day before my birthday, after your little rendezvous with one of your other women. Now you walk up in here and think I’m going to help you? No way. Get out of my office, and find someone else to help you with your grant proposal.”

She placed both hands on her hips and glared up at him. At least he had the decency to grimace with embarrassment after her outburst. What he’d done had destroyed her, sending her through three stages of grief as if she’d lost a family member.

The denial stage had been first. She’d texted him back in disbelief, asking him if she’d done something wrong, practically groveling to figure out how she could fix whatever had happened, although she’d suspected the reason. Their relationship had changed the night they lay in bed together and she whispered her dreams about sharing a future with him. It had slipped out after a particularly tender bout of lovemaking.

Right away she’d sensed his withdrawal. “I’m not the settling down type,” he’d said, and even though she’d been crushed by the words, he’d only told her what she’d known already. She was one of many notches on his bedpost. She’d lasted longer than most—three whole months. That knowledge had lulled her into a sense of contentment. But while she’d been secretly picking baby names, he’d been contemplating the next conquest in his love-’em-and-leave-’em lifestyle.

So she hadn’t been surprised he’d broken up with her, but the way he’d done it had been particularly ugly. He hadn’t even had the guts to tell her to her face. A text. Right before her birthday, within days of her smelling another woman’s perfume on him. Lilacs. She couldn’t forget the cloying scent.

After the denial stage had come the period of wallowing in self-pity and the pain of rejection. She’d been particularly good at it, cutting off her friends, including Cassidy. Especially Cassidy, because being around her reminded Lorena too much of Matthew.

She was in the third stage now—anger. And she loved it because it energized her and got her out of bed every morning. She would not go to the fourth stage. She would not get depressed. She refused to let him have that much power.

“I’m sorry, Lorena. How many times do I have to say it? I’ve said it a hundred times. Yes, you’re right, I’m an ass. I’m an insensitive jerk. I’m a
pendejo
and all those other insults you yelled at me in Spanish that I don’t know the meaning of, but I’m pretty sure they all mean ‘jerk.’”

Lorena had lived in the United States most of her life, but having been born in Puerto Rico, Spanish was her mother tongue and the language she spoke with her parents. From time to time, when she got very angry, she resorted back to it.

“What do you want from me? Do you want me on my knees?” he asked.

“I don’t want anything from you. I’m over you. I’ve moved on.”

“Well if you’ve moved on, why won’t you communicate with me?”

“Because I don’t want to. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. If you want a grant writer, find someone else to help you.”

“I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

Her heart jolted. Did he have to use those words?

“You can’t have me.”

He threw up his hands. “Come on, Lorena, you can’t be this bitter. I’m practically begging. This is important. The community center really needs some help. Funding has been cut, and people aren’t giving like they used to. I want to make sure they keep this place open, and I want you to work on it for us. What will it take?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You want to know what you can do? Tell them to pay me double what I charge my other clients. Then I’ll do it.”

“You can’t charge them double,” Matthew said patiently. “You’d be discriminating against a minority organization.”

“I’m not discriminating against them because it’s a minority organization. I’m discriminating against them because I don’t like you. There’s a difference.”

With glee, she internally turned cartwheels, watching as his nostrils flared with aggravation. However, she stopped the inner acrobatics when he took two steps toward her, forcing her to back up into the window, crushing the blinds. The temperature in the office plummeted with the level of icy calm he exhibited.

“You can hate me all you want to. I get it, and I accept it, but you’re going to help me get this grant for these kids, or I’m going to contact your buddies down at the Foundation Center and strongly suggest they reconsider sending you any more referrals because you won’t work for people you don’t like.”

“You’d better not.” She should have never told him her old coworkers sent her referrals.

“Think I won’t?”

Furious, their brown gazes locked, both of them refusing to look away. Perhaps if they had, the frigid tension in the little office wouldn’t have mutated into something familiar. The air became charged, and insidious warmth, slow and sneaky, crept through her limbs.

“For someone who’s over it, you sure are mad at me,” Matthew whispered. “Makes me wonder if there’s something else behind all the anger.”

“There is. Hate.”

“Nah. I don’t think so.”

Without warning, he reached out and removed her glasses. Lorena grabbed at air as he lifted them above her head. “I need those.”

“You only need them for reading. You can see me just fine.” He stepped closer again, and this time she could feel the heat from his taut, hard body.

“Stop. Right now.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Like I hate you?”

He didn’t even flinch. “No. Like you want me.”

“It’s your imagination.”

He lowered his gaze to her lips. “I wasn’t lying when I said I miss you.” His voice had dropped lower, deeper.

He was doing it again. Making her weak. Melting her bones, her muscles, her willpower to resist him. Three months wasn’t enough time to get past her feelings, and they were so easily reignited by him.

I hate him. I hate him.

She internally chanted the words in vain. Because she could smell him now. His drugging masculine scent, overlaid by the subtle tone of sandalwood in his cologne, had her stomach bunched up.

His pupils expanded, and she couldn’t look away. “God, I miss you,” he said, as if to himself.

He lowered his head to hers, and his thick lips came within centimeters of her own. If she raised up a fraction, their mouths would connect.  

“Get back.”

“I miss you, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough and dark. His warm breath swept lightly across her lips, and he reached up and gently traced her jawline.

Sparks flared on her skin where he touched, and her heart constricted as she struggled against the awakening of feminine desire. He still had the same effect on her. Slowly but surely, he was hypnotizing her, and if she didn’t do something fast, she’d be lost. He’d gain the upper hand.

How dare he? How dare he do this to her?

With his mouth positioned temptingly above hers, she did the only thing she knew to do. She did something drastic—sure to break the spell and drag her back into sanity.

She brought her leg up and kneed him in the groin.

Chapter Two

Matthew’s mouth fell open in shock. He dropped her glasses and staggered back against the desk, clutching his crotch as he doubled over in agony. “Motherfu—”

Lorena clamped her hand over his mouth to halt the expletive. The gravity of what she’d done hit her. “Ohmigod, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I-I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.” She picked up her glasses and slipped them back on. “It was supposed to be kinda light.”

“Kinda light?” he repeated in a strained voice, still doubled over with his head almost perpendicular to the floor. “You can’t hit a man
lightly
in this area right here.” He jabbed his finger in the direction of his groin. Then he moaned. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“You’re not gonna pass out.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna pass out.”

“Sit down. Here, let me help you.”