Wild for You (23 page)

He attempted to cleanse his mind by chanting again:
stillness precedes motion, slowness precedes speed, softness precedes strength.

With precise, phantom steps, he crept up behind Ray and performed a precise sweep-the-lotus kick aimed at Ray's funny bone, successfully knocking the gun from his hand down the length of the stairs.

Ray grunted and fell back against the railing. Clay chopped him on the back of the neck and knocked him unconscious. When Ray began to slide down the stairs, Clay yanked him by the back of his shirt and held him upright as he urged Marisol, "Go! Wait for me outside my apartment."

Paralyzed with fear, Marisol couldn't move when she saw Ray regain consciousness and try to ram his burly body against Clay. Clay retaliated by slamming his gun against Ray's back and shoving him down the stairwell. He turned his head briefly and when he saw Marisol still standing there, he thundered. "Go! I'll meet you there."

Downstairs, he handed Ray over to Alan. "Keep him in handcuffs until the police arrive."

Like a madman, Clay tore inside the building, rode up the elevator, and sprinted toward his apartment in search of Marisol. When he found the woman he loved in the hall waiting for him, he gave a shout of triumph.

Marisol ran toward him and fell into his arms, sobbing and telling him how much she loved him. They stood locked in each other's embrace, neither moving for several moments.

Finally, Clay disengaged Marisol's tightly woven arms from around his neck and examined her for any trauma at Ray's hands. His heart clenched painfully thinking he could have lost her forever. When he saw she was disheveled, but unharmed, he folded her precious body in his arms and kissed her like a starved man.

"Marisol, Marisol," he chanted, overcome by grief as he cradled her against his heart. "I almost lost you."

Marisol whimpered, "Oh, God, Clay, I need you so much!"

Suddenly all the sweet words Marisol needed to hear, the ones Clay had been reluctant and unsure of how to say, came rushing out of his mouth with tormented sincerity.

"I love you, baby,
"
he whispered roughly, his pulse roaring in his ears as he gazed into Marisol's beautiful amber eyes. He kissed her with savage urgency. "You're my own heart and soul and I love you more than life itself," he growled between kisses.

Marisol clung to Clay as tears rolled down her cheeks and she rained kisses on his face. "I love you, too,
mi amor.
I never stopped loving you."

"I want to marry you and give you as many babies as you want. If you'll still have me," he said with husky reverence.

"Of course!" Marisol said, smiling through her tears.

Clay held her beloved face in his hands and saw his soul reflected in her eyes. "I could never live without you, baby."

Marisol's flushed face lit up with a radiant smile. "About time you saw the light, Blackthorne," she said, delighting Clay with her usual sass.

"You're damn right!" He chuckled and hugged her tightly.

"Did you mean it about wanting babies with me?" she asked, holding her breath.

"How many do you want?"

"I'll settle for one," she said in a soft, enamored voice.

His shout of laughter rang through the hall. "One? You might have to settle for two."

"What do you mean?"

"Twins run on both sides of my family."

"Dios mio.
Mine, too!" Marisol hugged Clay exuberantly and reached up to lightly stroke the grooves beside his mouth. "Let's just hope they get your dimples."

"I'd rather they have your optimism," he countered truthfully. He knew without a doubt that his life had been truly touched by sunshine.

Epilogue

Marisol closed her magazine and rose from the chair to see what all the commotion was about. She could hear the babies fussing from the upstairs nursery of their new home. She climbed the stairs, grinning as she remembered Clay's stunned face when the doctor had announced they were expecting twins.

Just as the twins quieted, Marisol walked into the hallway. She stood in the doorway of the nursery, rooted to the spot observing the tender scene before her. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined her formidable husband to be serenading two tiny babies at once.

Clay sat on Marisol's favorite rocking chair in front of the babies' cribs. A lock of jet-black hair spilled over his forehead as he bent over the guitar. His identical baby girls cooed while he sang them a lullaby. Just then, he glanced up and his beautiful, dark eyes tenderly greeted her from across the room.

Continuing to strum the guitar, Clay winked at Marisol and sent her heart soaring.

The End

Page forward for more from Sophia Knightly

Excerpt from

Sold on You

by

Sophia Knightly

Chapter 1

Hovering behind the heavy velvet curtain, Gabriela smoothed her shaky hands down the slinky red halter gown and wished it wasn't slit so high on her thigh. She needed courage to face the room full of men, but how could she, when she looked like Jessica Rabbit in this dress?

"You're on next," Sabrina reminded her. Standing directly behind Gabriela, she whispered in her ear, "Knock 'em dead."

Gabriela turned anxious eyes toward her coworker and friend, who was also the fashion show/charity auction chairwoman. "I can't do this! I'm a social worker not a model," she said, ready to take flight.

Sabrina smiled. "So what? Remember the money goes to your favorite charity."

"I know, but this dress. It's so... so..." Gabriela faltered.

"Hot, revealing?" Sabrina asked with a mischievous giggle.

"Yes, I wish you hadn't picked it. I feel naked!" Gabriela turned to give her an exasperated look. "What will my co-workers say?"

"That you look simply gorgeous."

"They'll say I moonlight as a stripper." Gabriela grabbed Sabrina's shoulders and pinned her with suspicious eyes. "Are you sure Ruben Ball is planning to outbid everyone?"

Sabrina disengaged herself from Gabriela's tight grip. "That's what he said. Now quit stalling and get out there. The natives are restless."

Before Gabriela could stop her, Sabrina reached up and pulled out the large rhinestone clasp holding Gabriela's hair. With growing unease, Gabriela felt her friend's hands fluff out her tumbling curls. Then giving her a firm nudge, Sabrina thrust her forward into the blinding lights of the grand ballroom stage.

A thunderous burst of enthusiastic applause met her arrival onstage.

"Oh, God," Gabriela moaned inwardly, brushing back the mantle of wild black hair flowing midway down her back and over her bare shoulders.

She blinked a few times to adjust her vision to the bright lights, only to meet the approving gaze of several men in the audience. Thrusting her head up, she concentrated on making it across the stage in her red satin stiletto sandals.

"Gabriela Morales is North Collier Hospital's finest social worker. When she's not at work helping an unwed mother or a migrant family, Gabriela can be found at the beach. She loves sailing, cooking, dancing, and concerts and plays..." the auctioneer said.

"Deep breaths... one step at a time,"
Gabriela silently coaxed herself, trying not to listen to the descriptive accolades Sabrina had sent in about her. She was doing this for a cause dear to her heart. Otherwise she would have given in to the overwhelming impulse to bolt off the stage and run out of the Naples Ritz-Carlton to the safe oasis of her beachside apartment.

If she could get through this moment, she could do
anything.
Practically hyperventilating, she somehow got a hold of her nerves and thrust her chin up and shoulders back as she teetered across the stage while the auctioneer talked about her.

* * *

Dr. Marcos Calderon leaned forward and watched, fascinated by the dark-haired knockout strolling onto the stage.
Gabriela Morales?
Not in a million years! He couldn't believe his ears when the auctioneer confirmed that she was the conservative social worker at the hospital where he worked. Just this morning, they'd locked horns at the board meeting.

When it came to her causes, Gabriela was passionate and pigheaded. Her prim, businesslike manner had never appealed to Marcos, and that was precisely the reason he'd waited till the end of the auction to bid on her. Normally reserved and proper, she was the one woman who would fit the bill for his plan.

But he hadn't expected her to look so
hot
.

Marcos' jaw dropped as he took in her hourglass figure, an ample bosom above a tiny waist and round hips, and endless, shapely legs. This hip-swaying bombshell couldn't be the same Gabriela who hid behind demure, oversize suits; the same woman who always seemed to be on opposing sides from him at hospital board meetings.

"What happened to the proper social worker?" Marcos asked Dr. Alex Cortes, his colleague bidding beside him.