Sold on You (8 page)

Marcos raised a dark eyebrow. "That was part of our agreement. If I let you off the hook, how will you make it up to me?"

Gabriela thought it over. She had to come up with something that would please not only him but his grandmother, as well. A light bulb flashed. It was worth a try...

"I'll be happy to come over and make a special dinner for both of you."

"You would?" he asked dubiously.

"Sure. I wasn't kidding when I told your grandmother that I like to cook. And I would enjoy trying out your state-of-the-art equipment."

The corners of his mouth quirked upward. "Which equipment would you like to try out first?"

Aware of his naughty innuendo, Gabriela pretended not to understand. "Why, the Thermador cooking range, of course."

Marcos grinned. "Abuelita Coqui would really enjoy that. Good idea."

"Does she like seafood?"

"Loves it."

"What about pasta?"

"I don't know about her, but I have a weakness for pasta."

Gabriela chuckled. "There must be some Italian mixed in with your Argentine heritage."

"There is," he said.

Gabriela gathered her purse and reached for the car handle. "Good, then it's settled. I'll be at your place around five o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

"Hey... not so fast," Marcos said, staying her arm.

The warm contact of his hand on her arm, chilled by the cool December air, caused goose bumps to form along her sensitized skin.

"There's something we need to settle right now," he said.

Gabriela wondered at the suddenly stern look in his eyes. "What are you referring to?"

"Your barely concealed antagonism toward me at dinner tonight." His mouth formed a grim line.

"Oh," she said, wishing he wouldn't bring that up now.

His unswerving, severe gaze regarded her for several long moments making her want to squirm. "You made it pretty obvious to Abuelita Coqui that you think I feel entitled. You even inferred that I've been handed everything on a silver platter, he said, disgusted.

Gabriela was thankful for the darkness of night when she felt her face flame. "I regret saying that. I guess I went a little too far."

"Do you honestly think that I haven't worked for my professional success?" he demanded.

"No, I guess not," she said, feeling more ashamed by the moment. "But the path you took was made much smoother by your personal wealth. You can't deny it."

He frowned at her. "I can't help that. Why does it bother you so much?"

She looked away from his penetrating gaze and leaned her head back. Staring up at the stars illuminating the night sky, she lamented the turn in their conversation. She would much rather remember the recent childbirth than respond to his probing question.

Studying the pale glow around the full moon, Gabriela said, "You would never understand what it's like to grow up struggling for everything, to wonder if you'll have food to eat the next day or a roof over your head." She shivered. "To have to care for a sick, elderly woman knowing that she could die at any moment. The constant worry about what will happen when she's gone and there's no one to provide security." Her voice caught. "Then to miss her well-meaning advice when she did pass away. Every once in a while, I can hear her voice giving me
consejos."

"Who are you talking about? Your mother? Grandmother?"

"Neither. I was talking about the woman who rescued my mom and me by hiring my mom as her companion." She turned to gaze at Marcos' puzzled face. "When I was ten, my mother fled Colombia and took me with her to Miami."

"Why did she have to flee?"

"She was desperate to get away from my father. When she found out that he had a girlfriend who was little more than a teenager and he'd gotten her pregnant, she couldn't take it any longer. To make matters worse, her whole family urged her to ignore his cheating and be thankful that he provided so generously for us."

"That was pretty fearless of her to move to another country with a small child to support."

Gabriela nodded. "In Colombia, my mother never went to college or worked. She was part of the social set of her generation that stayed home and raised their kids, attended luncheons and fashion shows, and planned lavish dinner parties."

"That sounds like my mother's lifestyle, except for the raising kids part," he muttered.

"What do you mean?" she asked, curious to know more about his mom.

The open look in his face became shuttered. "Never mind. Tell me more about your mom."

"The first thing she did when she arrived in Miami was to sell all her jewelry. That supported us temporarily until she found employment with a kind woman named Berta Guzman. By day, my mother worked as her housekeeper in exchange for food, lodging, and a modest salary. At night while Mami took English classes, I'd care for Doña Berta, who had Parkinson's disease." She smiled fondly in remembrance. "I learned a lot about life from that dear old woman."

"I had no idea," Marcos said quietly.

"Few people know about my past, except for the young girls I counsel. I tell them about my struggles so they'll stick to their goals. I try to make them realize that without a good education, it's hard to succeed among rich, privileged people."

"Gabriela." The inflection of his tone held a mixture of affection and patience. "I respect what you've accomplished with such meager resources." He smiled. "But getting back to Abuelita Coqui.... if this is going to work, you have to refrain from voicing your low opinion of us rich, privileged people."

Gabriela smiled at his good-natured teasing. "I guess I can make an effort to keep my end of the deal. I like your grandmother, and I had a good time at the restaurant."

"Good." Marcos leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek, catching her by surprise. Up close, he smelled heavenly. His lips felt warm and velvety against her cool skin and Gabriela caught her breath at the sheer pleasure of his closeness.

"Let me walk you to your door," he said casually.

"That's not necessary." She opened the car door and practically leaped out of the convertible, undone by the tenderness in his simple kiss. Inadvertently, her hand flew to her mouth as she remembered his previous kiss in the kitchen and how much she had enjoyed that too. She turned away from the car, lest he see how much she wanted to stay.

"I'll see you tomorrow evening," she called out over her shoulder without looking back.

"Until then, kitten," he said, his deep voice laced with amusement.

Adding to her agitation, Marcos' low-timbered chuckle followed Gabriela's hasty retreat.

* * *

Standing in the elevator, Gabriela juggled two grocery bags as she pressed the number for Marcos's floor. She felt her glasses sliding down and wished one of her hands were free to push them back up the bridge of her nose. Marcos would probably be disappointed that she hadn't primped before coming over, but she'd had a long day and the last thing she wanted to do was fuss with hair and makeup. So she'd simply pulled her curls up with a large claw clip. As a concession to Marcos, she had applied her newly purchased mascara and rose-colored blush and lip gloss.

A cold snap came in last night and she was glad for the burgundy cashmere sweater and charcoal wool pants they'd purchased at Saks. The fit was flattering yet comfy without being baggy.

If he complained about her horn-rim glasses, she would just explain that her eyes were tired from wearing her contacts continuously yesterday into the night. She needed to give her eyes a rest.

When the elevator doors opened, she reminded herself of all the resolutions that she'd come up with earlier today. She would
not
allow Marcos to affect her in the intense physical way he'd been doing with a simple gesture or words. She had been trying to remain unfazed by his charm and good looks, but after last night... well, he'd been
way
too appealing when he'd delivered Christy's baby.

She was worried it would be difficult to remain emotionally aloof going forward. She'd have to toughen up and remind herself constantly that this was a farce for him and nothing else. If she allowed herself to fall for him, she would only succeed in making a fool out of herself. After all, this was strictly a business deal between them.

Having duly noted her strong resolutions, she rang the doorbell. Marcos opened the door and after one look at him, her strong resolutions dissolved. He was casually dressed in khaki's and a long-sleeved, dark green shirt. The jade flecks in his eyes glimmered as his face lit up when he saw her.

"Here, let me help you with these groceries." He kissed her cheek and took the bags from her as he whispered in her ear, "You look adorable. Are those naughty librarian glasses just for me?"

Gabriela playfully whacked his shoulder. "Quit teasing and help me take these things into the kitchen."

"Who's there?" Abuelita Coqui called out from the guest bedroom.

"My girl," he said, winking at Gabriela as he motioned for her to follow him to the bedroom door left ajar.

His girl?
Gabriela was taken aback when he called her that without a moment's hesitation. Wasn't he the least bit ashamed about tricking his grandmother? Before she could call him on it, his grandmother appeared.

"Hola,
Doña Coqui," Gabriela said, entering the room and noticed that Abuelita Coqui was in a royal blue velour robe. Gabriela leaned down to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. "How are you?"

"Happy to see you, dear." She motioned to her robe with a self-deprecating chuckle. "You caught this old lady napping."

"You can rest a little longer if you like. It'll take me a while to prepare dinner."

"Oh no," Abuelita Coqui replied with a wave of her hand. "I've rested enough."

Marcos grinned. "How about some dinner? I'm getting hungry, woman."

Gabriela refrained from rolling her eyes at his blatantly macho remark. "Yes, boss."

Abuelita Coqui giggled and shook her head. "Marcos still has the hearty appetite of a boy. I'll join you in the kitchen shortly."

"Okay," Gabriela said.

Marcos joined Gabriela in the kitchen and helped unload the groceries. She opened her handbag and withdrew a kitchen apron that she looped over her neck and tied around her waist.

"What's for dinner?" he asked.

"Grouper
livornese
and angel hair pasta."

"Sounds delicious. Need any help?"

"Yes, you can uncork the bottle of wine."

When Marcos finished opening the bottle, he set it down beside Gabriela and untied her apron. Slipping his hands around her waist he nuzzled her neck, depositing a kiss on her nape. "It's ready."

"Stop that," she said, slapping his hands away from the apron ties. His soft, warm lips at her nape nearly made her knees buckle as she clutched the kitchen counter. The apron hung suspended on her neck as she retied the strings about her waist. She turned around to scold him and said, "oh" instead when she saw Abuelita Coqui in the kitchen doorway. She should have known his moves were for his grandmother's approval.

"Marcos is distracting me from cooking," she said with a strained smile.

He pulled the clip from her hair. "Doesn't she look prettier with her hair down?" he teased.

"Let her be,
"
Abuelita Coqui admonished, shaking her head in amusement.

Gabriela was glad she told him to leave her alone. Maybe now she could make progress with her meal and he'd stop distracting her.

"You tell him, Abuelita.... Oh, I mean Doña Coqui," Gabriela said, quickly correcting herself.

"Call me Abuelita. I like it."

"Okay." Gabriela turned to Marcos and held out her hand. "Let me have my clip." When he reluctantly complied, she twisted her hair back up and secured it.

"Marcos, where are the dishes? I'd like to set the table," Abuelita Coqui said.

"You don't have to work," he protested. "I can do it."

"Stop treating me like a feeble old woman. I
want
to set the table."

"Okay, Abuelita. You'll find everything you need in here," he said, pointing to two cabinets near the pantry. "And I think Carmen left an ironed tablecloth and napkins in the laundry room. I'll go get it."

When he left the kitchen, Abuelita Coqui busied herself gathering dishes and utensils while Gabriela seasoned the grouper and started a pot of water boiling for the angel hair pasta. She had already prepared the salad and started the
livornese
sauce at home.

Marcos returned with the tablecloth and handed it to Abuelita Coqui. Venturing over to where Gabriela stood, he peered over her shoulder as she stirred the sauce. "Smells delicious! Good job," he complimented, giving her bottom a proprietary pat.

Gabriela whirled around, ready to give his offending hand a sharp rap with her wooden spoon. But as soon as she saw Abuelita Coqui turn her back to reach for the wineglasses, Gabriela silently mouthed "Quit it!" as she shot daggers at him with her eyes.

Marcos grinned unrepentantly, indicating Abuelita Coqui's presence with his thumb.

Of all the nerve! The snake was enjoying taking liberties with her and pretending it was for Abuelita Coqui's benefit. He was quite the Romeo tonight, nuzzling her neck and kissing her nape, making her body respond with gooseflesh.

"Don't you have something to keep you occupied while I cook?" she snapped.

His eyebrows rose at her sharp tone. "I have plenty to keep me occupied, but I'd rather watch you slave over the stove," he teased.

"Ha, ha, very funny. Now, could you
please
put on some music?" she inquired sweetly through clenched teeth.

"Sure. What do you want to listen to?" he asked.

"I really don't care. What would you like to hear, Abuelita?" Gabriela asked.

"Do you have any boleros by Luis Miguel?" Abuelita Coqui asked. "I love his voice, especially when he sings the songs of my youth."

"I think I might have one. Let me check," Marcos said, leaving the kitchen.

Before long, the condominium was filled with beautiful music and Gabriela began to relax, even though Marcos had returned to the kitchen. He sat at the small table, sipping wine and watching Gabriela stir tiny capers into the sauce.