Island Affair Page 6

  “Yay!” Luis lifted his fists in triumph, his expression alight with mock excitement. “My favorite game!”

  “Wise guy,” she grumbled, fighting her answering smile.

  She clicked her pen with her thumb, then tossed the first barrage of questions at him.

  Over an hour later, Sara had filled two pages with notes. Luis, having seen the wisdom of her ways, had decided to start his own study guide, so she’d torn a piece of paper from her book and dug out an extra pen from her purse.

  In between questions and devising their story of how they’d met, Luis had finished off the last half of her Cuban mix after she cried “full.” Him, volunteering to “take one for the team” to avoid letting good food go to waste. Her, failing to use that opening in their conversation to divulge her personal struggle with an eating disorder.

  It wasn’t necessarily something she kept secret. In recent years, her struggle with the disease had actually come up in a few interviews. The journalists had all been respectful. Each granted her request that the disorder not be the focus of an article about her business. She recognized the importance of sharing her story, how it might help others, so she didn’t shy away from the topic. And yet she wasn’t ready for the change that would inevitably occur if Luis knew. As it had with her family.

  The pointed interest in what she ate. Or didn’t eat. The covert glances at her figure checking for noticeable weight loss. Cataloging her actions. The questions. The pity. The disappointment and guilt.

  Luis would only be around for a week. Less if the situation nose-dived and they had to invent a reason for “Ric” to bug out early. More proof why Luis didn’t even need to know.

  “We’ve covered quite a bit,” Luis said.

  “I agree. The trick is in remembering it all.”

  “Well”—holding his paper up at one corner, Luis waved it back and forth—“thanks to my handy dandy cheat sheet, I think I’ll be okay.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  “Now who’s gloating?”

  “You know I’m right, though,” she singsonged.

  Luis responded with a mature eyeroll that had them both grinning.

  Seated under the cabana’s shade, the humid ocean breeze keeping the May heat at bay, they quietly mulled over each other’s answers on their respective papers.

  By now she’d discovered he was the second child of four kids, with only one sister born immediately after him. He didn’t admit it, but Sara sensed some kind of distance between Luis and his baby brother. When Enrique’s name came up, the light that brightened Luis’s mahogany eyes when he talked about his sister and older brother dulled. The smile that curved his lips, showing off his straight teeth, as he shared stories about his mami and papi, vanished.

  And yet he hadn’t volunteered any reason why.

  Apparently, she wasn’t the only one here keeping secrets.

  Still, the way his face softened when he talked about his family—or familia, the word he often used—sent a pang of yearning through Sara’s chest. Nostalgia, bittersweet and strong, filled her. The Navarro home sounded a lot like Mamá Alicia’s, Sara’s favorite place to hang out when her parents were out of town or hung up at the hospital.

  The comfortable, homey ambiance born of shoes and backpacks scattered by the front door. The delicious scent of bell peppers, garlic, and tomatoes simmering in a pot on the stove. Voices raised in laughter, disagreement, or praise, but always tinged with love. Familia and friends coming and going as if the kitchen had a revolving door. One that was always open, welcoming all.

  So different from the stark perfection and sterility of the Vance house.

  Behind her, a group of tourists riding mopeds puttered by, drawing Sara’s attention. Dressed in bathing suits and flip-flops, they were obviously more interested in catching rays than safety on the road. One driver called out to the others, motioning for them to turn onto the large fishing pier nearby. En masse, they made a right turn, moving out of her view.

  When she swiveled back on her bench, she found Luis tracing a finger down his chicken scratch handwriting. His blunt fingertip stopped, as if he were committing something he’d written down to memory.

  Wondering what had nabbed his interest, she leaned forward, the rough concrete digging into her elbows. He had already known she was a surprise baby for her parents. She’d dropped that info back at the airport, during her initial plea for help. But, like her, he’d made a point of keeping track of her family members’ names and occupations.

  Only, while he had easily answered her questions about his siblings’ favorite fun-time activities—coaching his young sons’ baseball team for Carlos, working her personal trainer side hustle for Anamaría, and some kind of art for Enrique—she’d drawn a blank with her brother and sister. Jonathan and Robin were so much older. They’d already been off adulting and starting their medical careers by the time she reached adolescence. Sara had never really connected with them.

  “Looks like we have a mission this week. If you’re up for it.” Luis arched a brow in a challenge. His finger tapped whatever piece of info on his sheet had stopped him moments ago.

  “I’m listening.”

  “By the time you board your plane to leave next Friday, let’s see if we can answer this question about Robin and Jonathan, your parents, too, with something more personal than reading medical journals or fundraising for some hospital-driven charity you can’t name. I mean, I know the title of your Mamá Alicia’s favorite telenovela, the pan dulce she always ordered from the panadería even after her doctor recommended she cut back on the sweet breads. And that she made sure you learned Spanish. Though no doubt your grasp of curse words came courtesy of her boys.”

  “Yeah, she was not too happy about that discovery.” Sara pursed her lips, remembering Mamá Alicia’s threat to wash her mouth out with soap.

  “The thing is, and correct me if I’m wrong.” Luis placed one hand over his heart, the other splayed out toward her. “I get the idea you’d like to know a little more about your brother and sister. So you don’t feel like such an outsider. Maybe this week, we can work on that for you, together. What do you say?”

  Shocked by his perception, Sara fell back onto the picnic bench with a thud. In this short time, Luis had picked up on her deep-seated desire to connect with her loved ones. Share meaningful conversation without feeling like everyone else talked around or over, rarely with, her. For them to view her more as an equal and less like someone who needed to be taken care of.

  Which was why she absolutely had to walk into their rental home with a partner. Not as the baby sister who’d been dumped or duped by another loser boyfriend.

  Luis’s use of “we” and “together,” as if the two of them were a team . . . as if she wasn’t going into this potentially stressful vacation with her family alone . . . as if somehow he understood her secret need to feel a connection.

  She wasn’t sure what kind of mission she had expected him to suggest. But she never would have guessed this.

  Tears pricked Sara’s eyes. Relief, warm and comforting, seeped over her, rising to clog her throat as she stared back at him with awe and gratitude.

  “Mission accepted,” she answered softly.

  “Yes.” He hissed the word in triumph, his outstretched hand slapping the table between them. “So, if we start to feel the heat from their questions about us, we’ll turn the hoses on them.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Sara groaned good-naturedly. “Again with the firefighter analogies.”

  He gave her a playful wink that should not have curled her toes or spurred the butterflies in her belly as easily as it did.

  To quote Mamá Alicia’s most frequent exclamation . . . ¡Ay Dios mío!

  Sara gulped down her dismay. Oh my god indeed. Like her favorite summer linen skirt if she’d been seated too long, her zany scheme suddenly developed a new wrinkle. A big wrinkle she needed to steam-iron out immediately, or she’d risk making another mistake in her pe
rsonal life.

  Luis Navarro would be oh, so easy to fall for if she wasn’t careful. But jumping into another long-distance relationship, with a guy she’d offered to pay to spend time with her, was most definitely a no. Totally nonnegotiable.

  Her relationship with Ric had started fast and furious and for all the wrong reasons. Namely, to please her parents. Exactly like her current situation with Luis.

  Sara refused to confuse his friendly assistance with anything more serious. Doing so could only end badly.

  From inside her purse, Sara’s cell phone vibrated. She reached for it without thinking, immediately sucking in a sharp breath when she saw the text notification from her mother.

  Landed and picked up our car. Will meet you and Ric at the rental house shortly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Luis’s sharp question cut through the whirr of doubts suddenly buzzing in her ears.

  What if this didn’t work?

  This had to work.

  But what if they crash and burned?

  Heart in her throat, second-guesses scrambling through her brain like invaders intent on demolishing the getting-to-know-you bridge she and Luis had built between them, she met his inquisitive gaze. “My parents landed and are on their way to our rental. In your jargon, the fire alarm just rang. Looks like we’re up.”

  Luis stretched his arm across the concrete picnic table, palm up. “If you’re sure this is what you want to do, I’m with you, Sara. We got this.”

  Her gaze dropped to his open palm. An invitation. A belief in her. A commitment the likes of which she’d wanted from a loved one for years. Only, this commitment was temporary. An illusion.

  “Sara? What do you want to do?” Luis asked, his voice calm, certain. Devoid of even the slightest hint of pressure or doubt.

  Exactly how she yearned to feel when surrounded by her family. Maybe, just maybe, Luis could help her achieve that.

  Sara let her eyes drift closed as she sent a plea for extra good luck prayers from Mamá Alicia above. Then, her heart pounding, she placed her hand in his, hoping that, together, she and Luis could pull off this convoluted plan she had concocted.

  Chapter 5

  The closer they got to the rental house in downtown Key West, the tighter Sara’s death grip strangled her leather purse strap. The faster her left leg bobbed up and down on the ball of her foot, evidence of the jitters she was doing a terrible job of hiding.

  While Luis wasn’t too keen on lying to her family, he was even less inclinded to mess this up for Sara. Based on her current state, he’d have to figure out how to help her get over her nerves. Fast.

  Luis made a left onto Eaton, then had to wind up and down a few of the Old Town streets, keeping his eyes peeled for an open spot big enough for his truck. All the while he remained aware of Sara, shoulders stiff and her face pale. If she wasn’t careful, the nervous bite she had on her full lower lip would draw blood.

  Finally, a gray van pulled out about a block away from the rental house, and Luis parallel parked under the shade of a sprawling poinciana tree. The tiny bright orange-red flowers that gave the tree its Spanish name, flamboyán, thanks to its fiery, flamboyant colors, popped against the pale blue sky background. A dusting of the flame-colored petals and green fern-like leaves coated the cracked sidewalk in front of a two-story wooden Conch house under renovation.

  Leaving the engine running so the AC would cool the cab, Luis laid a hand on Sara’s shoulder, hoping to calm her.

  The harried look she gave him was at odds with the relaxed, quick-witted woman who’d peppered him with Twenty Questions and awed him with the story of how she’d grown her business, going from a college coed killing time posting pictures online to a full-blown social media entrepreneur.

  “Hey, everything’s going to be okay,” he assured her.

  Gently, he squeezed her shoulder. An I got you squeeze meant to reassure. Instead, she stiffened. Her brows furrowed, wrinkling her forehead, telegraphing that she felt anything but “okay.”

  Concerned, Luis swiveled to face her, releasing her shoulder to drape his forearm across the back of her bucket seat. “Sara, what’s going on?”

  “I just . . . I need this to work.” Knuckles white, her fists tightened on her purse strap as she stared out the front windshield. “I need to not be the cause of more worry and stress for my parents. Especially my mom.”

  “More? What do you mean?”

  Her slim shoulders rose and fell on a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing. Never mind.”

  Luis ducked down, trying to catch her gaze. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I mean, um, it’s nothing you need to be bothered with.”

  Whatever Sara was keeping from him didn’t seem like it was nothing. Not based on the way she hedged, refusing to look him in the eye.

  Coño. The word shot through his head like a warning flare, its red flame lighting the sky. Several other choice expletives, much stronger than damn, followed it.

  Fifteen years on the job dealing with victims hiding info for one reason or another. Growing up with a younger brother who’d skirted the line of deviant behavior as a teen. They’d taught Luis the signs pointing out evasion of the truth. But he had also learned that pushing wasn’t always the best option.

  “We’re on the same side here, remember?” he told her, purposefully keeping his voice low, his tone measured.

  She fell back against her bucket seat, chin tilted up at the roof. Her slender neck exposed, Luis noticed the rapid beat of her pulse.

  “Whatever it is, you tell me when you’re ready. No pressure.” Gently he combed her blond tresses behind her ear, marveling at the silky softness.

  He didn’t stop to question this strong compulsion to soothe her. Even though it made no sense.

  Hell, they barely knew each other. He rarely let people outside his immediate circle get close to him. And yet, in only a few short hours with Sara, he found himself captivated by her. Trusting her more than he trusted most people outside his immediate familia.

  Carlos would tell him to get his head out of his ass. Stop finding ways to avoid his own problems by focusing on someone else’s.

  Stubbornly, Luis ignored his older brother’s imaginary advice.

  The seat leather groaned its protest as Luis shifted toward Sara. “If your goal is to put your mom at ease, convince her that you’ve found the most amazing man to be with, I can totally help with that. This’ll be a walk in the park ‘cuz, well, I’m pretty amazing.”

  She lolled her head to her left, shooting him a raised-brow, are-you-kidding-me glare.

  He winked, and a few seconds later a corner of her lush mouth twitched before slowly stretching into her sweet smile.

  “A real papi chulo, huh?” she teased.

  “Damn straight.” He tapped his chest with his other palm. “Hot-guy material. That’s me.”

  Her low chuckle sent a shiver of awareness shimmying over him. Lust pooled low in his body. The urge to kiss her, to turn that sexy chuckle into a groan of desire, hit him, hard and fast.

  “I don’t know how the three of us manage to fit in your truck,” she mused.

  He frowned, his thoughts stuck on the delectable idea of sampling her lips. “Three?”

  “You, me, and your ego.” She flashed a cheeky grin.

  “Funny,” he groused, actually, relieved to see her spunk reviving.

  “I’ll be here all week. Maybe you can catch my show.”

  “Ha, I’m in your show, sweetheart. All the . . . What did you call me? Oh yeah, all the hunky parts. I got those covered.” He gave a lock of her hair a playful tug. Inadvertently the back of his hand brushed her bare shoulder, heightening his desire to touch more of her soft skin.

  Sara cupped his elbow.

  Luis figured she meant it as a request for him to back off. Immediately he moved to withdraw his hand, but her grip tightened, holding him still.

  “I’m nervous,” she whispered. The raw sincerity blanketing her beau
tiful face gutted him.

  “Truth?” he asked.

  Lips pressed together, she nodded.

  “If we’re confessing here,” he admitted, staring intently into her eyes. “I’m a bit nervous myself. But I’m also really looking forward to spending the week with you.”

  Desire turned her blue-green irises into tumultuous waves, echoing the lust that blew through him with hurricane-force winds. When she glanced down at his mouth, then tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, Luis nearly groaned out loud.

  She shifted toward him. The smallest, most infinitesimal of movements. Her gaze slid up to ensnare his and he found himself drowning. In her. In this intense need to feel her lips against his.

  Unable to resist her pull, Luis leaned in. Slowly. Careful to watch for any hint that he was misreading her signs.

  Instead, Sara met him halfway.

  The air thickened around them. Hot. Heavy. Humid with their mingled breath. Tangy with her citrusy scent.

  It was crazy. This attraction, swift and strong, arcing between them.

  Her eyes drifted closed. Luis’s gaze traced a thin blue vein faintly crisscrossing one of her pale eyelids. The slight flush tinting her high cheeks. It was inevitable, his need to taste her sweetness. Undeniable in a way he’d never experienced before.

  Featherlight, his lips brushed against hers. Once. Twice. The cool scent of the breath mint she had popped in her mouth earlier teased him with the urge to taste it on her tongue.

  She pressed a hand against his chest, her eyelids fluttering open, and he stilled. Ready to back off. Her fingers curled, gathering his shirt in her fist as if she wanted to drag him closer. Desire surged, pushing him dangerously close to the edge of reason, and he cautioned himself to take it slow, when all he really wanted was to dive right into the pleasure he felt certain they’d discover together.

  The chi-ching chi-ching of a bicycle’s metallic bell chimed outside the truck window. Luis and Sara started at the intrusion, inadvertently knocking foreheads.

  “Oooh!”

  “Ow!” Luis jerked back, smacking his left elbow on the steering wheel.