Spanish Nights (3 page)

He turned from the window and strode to the front door, stopping to look at the pictures of his family. Crone had been kind enough to take the photos and frame them, then hang them as a gift. Efrain, his father, looked every bit a king. His jet-black hair was kept short, but his chiseled face showed a little wear. Armand wondered if he had caused his father's stress and it ate at him. His entire family had tried to reason with Cyndel and except for the fear of Armand never being released from his curse, his brothers would have killed her.

Next was Crone, the only family member allowed to visit, and he was grateful for that. The others had tried, but the curse Cyndel had used kept his loved ones away. For some reason however, Cyndel had allowed Crone to come once every six months. It was the only thing that kept him sane.

Lazaro was the baby. Only a child when Armand had been cast out, the photo now showed a grown man, and it pained him he had missed his little brother growing up.

He fisted his palms. Anger bubbled up that Cyndel had caused him so much anguish because of her greed. He'd actually considered years ago giving in and marrying her, but Crone had assured him the family would get through the nightmare. His father wanted him to hold onto his beliefs.

He stared at Lazaro's picture. He would have already reached his immortality: the time when he stopped aging and his looks froze. His baby brother had always held a special place in his heart. He looked so much like their mother who had died in childbirth. It was the only time a female was vulnerable. He remembered his father's devastation. His parents had loved each other with every fiber of their souls. It was a love Armand had hoped one day to have and the reason why he refused to marry Cyndel. Now he kept his heart locked behind a frozen block. He couldn't love a mortal then watch her grow old and die. And what of their children? He could never bear to watch his offspring pass before him. Instead he acted the playboy, satisfied his needs then moved on, always painfully aware of the many broken hearts he left in his wake. It was better that way.

Armand scooped up the bouquet of violet orchids he'd picked from the garden earlier and walked out the door. The late morning sun had already turned the air to a pleasant seventy degrees so he decided to walk. Following the brick path, he took a sharp right and headed down the hill. His mission today was to greet a visitor staying at the Nolan home. Armand had started the tradition of welcoming guests when the first settler had asked to build here. The Elders passed on to their children the stories of Armand's ancestors, how they always took time from their day to greet a lonely stranger, even housed and fed those passing through. Little did they know it was Armand himself. It was the only thing that gave him purpose. This town, these people. They belonged to him and he would always make sure they were cared for.

After several minutes, he found himself in front of the Nolan home knocking on the heavy wooden door. A scurry of footsteps met his sensitive ears before the door opened.

He took a step back. The most exotic vision filled the void. The woman was stunning. Wide, brown eyes filled with curiosity looked back at him. His gazed dropped to full red lips and the sudden urge to taste them had his mouth watering. He couldn't stop staring at her beauty. By all the gods, he’d lost his tongue and had forgotten why he was there.

*****

Makayla had been surprised by a knock on her door, but even more so when she flung it open to find the most stunning pair of almond-shaped blue eyes she'd ever seen staring back at her. It took her only a moment to realize the pools of sapphire were attached to one gorgeous man.

She blinked.

Nope, still there and still just as breathtaking as before. Men like that only existed in … well, not where she lived anyway.

“Uh, can I help you?” God she hoped he spoke English. Nikki had assured her there wouldn't be any problems with language here. She didn't know a lick of Spanish. Wait … was he holding flowers? She blinked again.

“Good morning,
señorita
.” He tipped his head and it was then she really took notice. His hair, a warm brown, hung in messy waves to his collar. The sun glistened off it, catching the golden highlights that made her want to touch each curl and entwine it around her fingers.

“My name is Armand. I'm here to welcome you to our small community.” He thrust the flowers in front of her. “For you.”

She reached for the bouquet, fighting to keep her hand from trembling. His thick Spanish accent made her want to drool.
God, I need to stop staring.
“Thank you, these are beautiful.” His fingers touched hers as she grabbed the flowers and sent fire straight to her sex. Her imagination began to whirl with all the things those hot digits could do to her. She swallowed hard and pushed the thoughts from her head.
Great Kayla, nothing like wanting to hit on the first man at your door.

“It's also customary that I give you a tour of our town, but first would you join me for coffee?”

“Coffee?” Had he just said something about a tour? Wait, how did a Spaniard have blue eyes?

He flashed a smile. “Unless you prefer tea or another beverage. The local cafe has lots of items to choose from. They also make wonderful sweet rolls if you haven't yet eaten.”

“Umm, do you make it a habit to bring flowers and offer breakfast to strangers?” Makayla had been warned the people here were friendly. Still, it was weird to a girl who originally came from Chicago; she found it difficult to shove away years of always being wary.

His smile remained. “Actually, yes I do. It's something my family has done for decades. My forefathers started this village many years ago and it's become a tradition to always welcome our newcomers with hospitality.”

Now she felt like a total ass, and her gut told her the guy was genuine. “I'm so sorry. Of course, I'd love coffee and I haven't had time to see the village yet. I might incorporate it into my next novel. I bet there's a ton of history here.”

He tipped his head. “You're a writer?”

Makayla stepped back from the door and decided it wouldn't hurt to invite him in. “I am. Would you care to come in? If you don't mind waiting, I'll place these in some water and change, then we can go.”

“Thank you and please, take your time.”

He strode into the small entry as if he owned the place and she couldn't help but take a look at his backside. She stifled a moan. Just as she suspected, the behind was just as delicious as the front. She slipped past, trying not to touch him in the small confines of the vestibule.

“Please come in and have a seat. I'll only be a couple of minutes.” She directed him to a chair in the living room then headed for the kitchen to find a vase. After procuring the glass from an open shelf, she spun around to find the sexy Spaniard standing directly behind her. Had he been any closer, their bodies would have greeted each other in a most intimate fashion.

She looked up into his beautiful eyes and swallowed. “Oh, goodness. You startled me.”

“My apologies,
señorita
, but I don't believe you ever told me your name.”

She set the vase in the sink and filled it with water then moved it to the counter. He occupied the confined space of the kitchen, not only with his large frame, but something else. His mere presence commanded attention. There was a kind of power that exuded from him, and it made her a bit edgy in a way hard to define. Sexual? The man dripped sexual energy, but there was more to it. Kayla shook it off to simply being in close confinement with a Spanish god.

“I don't know where my manners are today.” She extended her hand. “Hi, I'm Makayla Farren, but my friends call me Kayla.”

He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, which he brushed across the top of her knuckles ever so gently. His eyes met hers and darkened. In that moment, she sensed something familiar about him. That was impossible. They'd never met before. She fought to slow her pulse and tried to ignore the sensation his kiss left on her skin.

“
Señorita
, I hope you'll allow me to call you Kayla. It's a most beautiful name.” His deep voice wrapped around her and caressed, causing bumps to skip across her skin. At the moment, she'd allow him to call her anything.

Kayla smiled. “I'd best change so we can go.”

He released her hand. She backed away, turned and headed directly to the master suite at the back of the house. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and tried to catch her breath. She looked down and noted her hands shook along with her knees. Her skin tingled like it had been kissed by the sun and for once in her life she was warm.

“Okay, Kayla, center yourself. You're about to spend the morning with the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on.” She hurried across the room and grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand. Scrolling to Nikki’s number she sent a quick text of thanks to her friend with a promise to follow up later.

She moved back to the other side and grabbed a pair of shorts from the dresser. Slipping her leg through the opening, she couldn't help the visions of him still racing in her head. Eyes so blue, they reminded her of a tropical lagoon. Then there was his body. Good god almighty, what a body. If it looked that good in jeans and a polo shirt, she could only imagine what he might be like nude.

“Christ, I need to stop before I spontaneously combust.” She snapped the shorts, pulled on a T-shirt and ran a brush over her hair. She checked her reflection in the mirror. “This will have to do. It's not like you're going on a date, Kayla.”

Chapter
Four

Armand watched in amazement as the girl known as Kayla fled the room. He'd met many beautiful women in his time, but this one had managed to do something not even he could.

Stoke the embers that were his Jinn.

When their fingers had touched, he felt a stir but wrote it off to his imagination. However, when he'd brushed his lips across her hand there had been no doubt. The Jinn long buried deep within him tried to roar to life. Was it simply a coincidence? There seemed to be something magical about her, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He would, though. His fingers, his tongue. He vowed as he stood in her small kitchen that he would take her in every room of the house. He would fill the small villa with her screams of pleasure and she would beg him for more. If such brief contact did this, then he could only hope fucking her might break his curse. He leaned against the counter and watched for her return. Why though? What was special about her? He searched his memories for anything that might fill in the gaps, but he had nothing.

He inhaled. The scent of strawberries filtered through his senses, stirring his cock. He licked his lips and couldn't help but wonder if she would taste as sweet as his favorite fruit.

Within minutes, the seductive female returned dressed in a pair of shorts and a yellow tee. His gaze moved directly to her breasts, noting how the fabric clung to the rounded mounds and accented them. Did she realize her nipples poked through the thin material and begged him to suckle one into his mouth?

Doubtful.

“I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” she asked, flashing a sexy smile. Good gods, the woman was testing his restraint. He needed to keep his cool and remind himself
he
was the seducer, not the other way around.

“Not at all. Shall we?”

“Yes. I'm looking forward to a stroll.” She walked toward the door, but he arrived before her to open it.

“Allow me.”

“Thank you.” Kayla crossed the threshold to the outside while he closed the door behind him and double-checked the lock. Crime wasn't common in his small community. On the rare occasion when outsiders had thought to take what didn't belong to them, he'd made sure they were dealt with swiftly. Still, he felt the need to keep this woman safe.

Once outside, he offered his arm. She hesitated, as if unsure, but quickly regained composer and wrapped her fingers around his bicep. Her touch was cool and he was surprised he hadn't noticed it before. It soothed him like a refreshing balm.

He escorted her down the brick walk and turned left. The cafe was only a block away. “We'll have coffee first. You can tell me more about yourself and why you decided to visit our village.”

She smiled at him. “Deal, but only if you tell me more about your family. I find it interesting that your descendants are the founding fathers.”

“I'd be happy to tell you all about my family.”

They reached the door of the restaurant, and he opened it allowing her to enter first. “This way.” He led her across the small diner to a booth by the window. He waited for her to be seated before taking his own across from her then watched while she unfolded the napkin and placed it in her lap. Every move she made fascinated him. “Are you hungry?”

“I wasn’t until the smell of those cinnamon rolls hit me on the way in.”

“You will not be disappointed.
Café con leche
as well?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, please.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and he resisted the temptation to reach out and help her. He imagined the dark mass would feel like the finest silk fisted in his hand as he took her from behind.