Authors: Rochelle Alers
Arching a sculpted, black eyebrow, David stared at her. “Excellent guess.” He closed his eyes as she drew back the sheet and slipped the underwear over his feet and inched it up his legs. Raising his hips slightly, he facilitated her covering up his nakedness.
The heat in his face had nothing to do with his injury or the extra exertion. For the first time since laying eyes on Serena Morris he was embarrassed. She knew that she aroused him—there had been no way for him to conceal it—and whenever she gazed upon his nude body he knew she was now aware of him not as a patient but as a man.
Opening his eyes, he stared at her staring at his thigh. He knew what had garnered her rapt attention. “It’s a bat,” he explained.
“I can see that,” Serena acknowledged, staring at the distinctive outline of a bat tattooed on the inside of David Cole’s upper thigh. “Why a bat?” she questioned, pulling the sheet up and folding it back neatly over his belly.
“I played with a jazz band in my former life. It was called Night Mood. We dressed in black, hung out all night, and slept during the day. I had affected the habit of not going to bed until I saw the sun break the horizon. The other guys got into the habit of calling me Dracula. When we returned to the States after a two-month tour of Europe we decided to get tattoos. All of the other guys selected cats.”
It was her turn to arch her delicate eyebrows. “Why the thigh, David?” The outline of a bat with its wings outstretched was positioned where his member rested against his hard thigh.
“I didn’t want it visible so that I’d have to consider having it removed one day.”
Serena gave him a skeptical look. “Is that the only reason?”
“Should there be another one?”
“I think so, David Cole. I think you were so vain that you didn’t want to mar your body where someone would see it.”
“Someone?”
Gathering the bowl and shaving materials, she gave him a sidelong glance. “Women.”
“How wrong you are, Serena,” he drawled in Spanish. “
Una mujer
. Yes,” he confirmed when seeing her expression of surprise. “You are the
only
woman who has seen it.”
She went still, staring at him and seeing amusement in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re—”
“I prefer
women
,” he confirmed, interrupting her. “It’s just that I don’t make it a practice of sleeping with a lot of them.”
“That’s unusual coming from a musician.”
“Former musician.”
“Okay,” she conceded, “a former musician.”
“Knowing this, does that change your impression of me?”
“No. It still doesn’t change the fact that you’re obsessed with your looks. I don’t know if anyone has ever told you, but you’re a vain peacock.”
Instead of refuting her statement, he laughed,
the sound following her out of the room and down the hall.
Serena laughed softly to herself. David Cole was vain. And sexy; sexier than any man she had ever seen in her life. He was what Latin women called
muy guapo
. He was one
fine
man.
D
avid sat up in bed, his back supported by several pillows, while Serena fed him spoonfuls of a flavorful chicken soup with rice and vegetables. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he began eating. He ate all of the soup and drank half a cup of tea. His lids soon fluttered wildly as he fought against listlessness making it almost impossible to keep his eyes open; within minutes he fell into a deep, comforting sleep.
He never knew when Serena eased the pillows from behind his back and shoulders and placed them under his head. He also was not aware that she leaned over his prone form for several seconds before leaning closer and placing a light kiss on his forehead.
“Sleep well, David,” she whispered softly, then walked out of the room.
Serena returned to the kitchen, smiling at Luz Maria.
“He ate all of the soup, but only drank half of the tea,” she informed the cook.
Luz Maria took the tray from Serena, returning her smile. “That’s okay. I made the tea a little stronger this time. He only needed to drink a little bit. Is he complaining about pain?”
“No.”
“Good.” Her tea, with its natural anesthetizing properties, dulled intense pain almost immediately while causing one to fall into a deep sleep. It contained a popular herb used by Costa Rican natives for many centuries to counter infections that attacked the body.
“Are you ready to eat?”
Serena nodded, sitting down at a massive mahogany table that had been crafted more than a hundred years before. The skilled furniture maker had carved his name and the date on the underside of the table.
She watched Luz Maria as she spooned a portion of soup into a bowl. The talented cook was tiny, barely five-feet in height, and weighed about one hundred pounds, and even though she prepared exquisite meals for her employer and his family she made it a practice not to eat any meat. On occasion she consumed a small amount of chicken. However, she much preferred fish and the vegetables indigenous to the region.
Serena looked forward to eating
casabe, yautía
, and
plátanos
whenever she returned to the Central American country. She liked
plátanos
, or bananas, whether they were green or ripe. Luz Maria placed a bowl of soup on the table, along with a small dish filled with
plátano maduro
. The aroma of the lightly fried, yellow bananas wafted above the other tantalizing smells in the large kitchen.
“Will your papa and mother return in time to share
dinner with your guest tonight?” Luz questioned, waiting until after Serena had swallowed several spoonfuls of soup.
“No. It will be Dr. Rivera and myself. My parents are going to stay in San José for a few days. They went to meet with President Montalvo and the ambassador from the United States.”
Luz Maria crossed herself, saying a silent prayer. When she heard of Gabriel Vega’s arrest she’d begun a daily novena of lighting candles and saying prayers for his return. She could not believe he had killed anyone. She’d watched Gabriel Diego Vega grow up, and everyone who met him was taken with his gentleness and sincerity. She, like Raul Cordero-Vega, believed the people in the United States had falsely accused Gabriel of a crime he did not commit.
Serena saw Luz Maria cross herself, knowing that the older woman had erected a shrine in her bedroom for her brother. Caring for David Cole helped to lessen her own heartache. She did not have to spend all of her waking hours thinking or crying now.
She finished her lunch, thanked Luz Maria, then retreated to her room. She wanted to go for a walk but decided against it. The daytime temperature had gone over the ninety degree mark, making the intense heat dangerous for anyone who remained outdoors longer than necessary.
It was time for
siesta
. She would wait for the early evening to walk down to the river. After her walk she would prepare herself to share dinner with Leandro Rivera.
Removing her sandals, blouse, slacks, and underwear, she pulled a short shift over her head, then lay down on the bed. She stared up at the mosquito netting shrouding
the large, four-poster bed. Warm breezes swept into the bedroom and over her exposed limbs from the open French doors leading out to the second-story veranda. Her thoughts strayed to Gabe as she willed herself not to cry. She was unsuccessful. The tears welling up behind her lids overflowed and stained her cheeks. Turning her face into the pillow, she cried silently until spent. Then she fell asleep.
David stared up at Dr. Leandro Rivera as the doctor examined his face. “It’s healing nicely, Señor Cole.”
“When are you going to remove the stitches?”
Leandro smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling attractively. “They will dissolve on their own. How’s your ankle?”
“I can’t put too much pressure on it.”
That’s because you shouldn’t be putting any pressure on it
, Serena said silently. She stood at the foot of the bed, watching Leandro take David Cole’s blood pressure. Then she saw his obvious expression of relief when he registered David’s normal body temperature.
“Señorita Morris will assist you when you get out of bed tomorrow. I’ve instructed her to have you soak your foot and ankle in cold water to take down some of the swelling.”
Turning his head, David looked at Serena. When she entered the room with the doctor he was shocked by the change in her appearance. Her hair was brushed off her face and secured in a tight chignon on the nape of her neck. A light cover of makeup illuminated her large, round eyes and highlighted the lushness of her full lips. She had even exchanged her perfume for one that reminded him of woodsy spices. A fitted silk sheath in vermillion red matched the vibrant color on her lips.
His gaze lingered on her perfectly rounded face, noting that the large pearls in her pierced lobes were companions for a magnificent single strand draped around her long, delicate neck.
She’s going out!
And he knew without asking that she was going out with Dr. Leandro Rivera. The doctor’s tailored dark suit and silk tie were a departure from his usual linen slacks and jacket.
Not knowing why, David felt a surge of jealousy. It wasn’t that he was in love with Serena, or even liked her a lot, but what bothered him was that she’d affected him more than any woman he’d ever met. He’d discovered earlier that afternoon that he lacked control over his sexual urges when near her and that she made him think of marrying and fathering children.
“I hope you two have a good time tonight,” he said without warning. Leandro smiled, while Serena frowned.
“Thank you,” Leandro returned, confirming his suspicions.
“I’ll check on you later,” Serena said as she turned and walked out of the bedroom. Leandro replaced his instruments in his bag and followed her.
David’s gaze followed her retreating figure. He could see the perfection of her strong legs in a pair of red satin, sling-strap heels. She had elected to leave her legs bare, and the smooth brown color shimmered sensually over firm, lean muscle.
And for the second time that day David felt a surge of desire that left him trembling and shaken with an urgency to bury his sex deep within the softness of her enticing body.
Reaching over for the cup of tea on the bedside table, he gulped it quickly, smiling as sleep overtook him so
that he did not have to think of Serena Morris or the man who would command her attention for the evening.
Serena and Leandro walked slowly, side by side, as they made their way along the path leading away from
La Montaña
and toward the Caribbean. He had elected to park his car a quarter of a mile from the house, saying that he needed the additional exercise.
A rising wind swept over her moist face, cooling her bared flesh. She did not know what to expect, but she had not expected her dining partner’s wicked sense of humor. They had spent the better part of two hours laughing instead of eating Luz Maria’s expertly prepared avocado and mango salad, shredded beef, white rice and black beans, steamed pumpkin, and a chilled dessert made of fresh coconut.
The meal began with her thinking of David Cole’s dinner. He’d eaten a bowl of potato soup seasoned with rosemary, tarragon, chives, scallions, and strips of a melted yellow cheese and crispy crumbled bacon. It had pleased her that he ate all that was in the bowl, indicating he was well on the road to recovery. The absence of a fever and his healthy appetite made it a certainty that his period of convalescence would be shorter than she had originally predicted. She knew he was practically pain-free. Luz Maria’s magical tea worked as well as Demerol, without any of the addictive properties of some prescribed painkillers.
Leandro caught her hand as he assisted her over the uneven surface of an area of the landscape. Tightening his grip, he smiled down at her upturned face. His four-wheel drive vehicle was parked less than twenty feet away, yet he had not released her fingers.
Rising on tiptoe, Serena pressed her lips to his smooth jaw. “Thank you for coming to dinner.”
The skin around his dark, slanting eyes crinkled in an engaging smile. “May I call on you again for dinner?”
“Of course,” she replied.
His smile slipped away as he stared down at her.
She’s so lovely
, he mused. “What can I offer you to return to Limón and work with me?”
Shaking her head, she forced a smile. “Nothing right now. My life is in the United States.”
“Your life or
someone
?”
“
My life
.” There was no mistaking the emphasis on the two words.
Leandro released her hand, leaning over and placing a light kiss an inch from her mouth. “
¡Hasta luego!
Serena.”
“
¡Buenas noches!
”
Turning, she made her way back up the path, not waiting for Leandro to drive away. She felt the heat of his gaze on her back, and she wondered if she had made a mistake to share dinner with the young doctor. She wasn’t vain, at least not as vain as David Cole, but she knew that Dr. Leandro Rivera was interested in her the way a man would be interested in a woman. He was a Tico and she was an American, and never had she felt as American as she did at that moment. Perhaps it had something to do with her stepfather’s virulent attack on Americans that made her realize that she, like her mother, truly loved the country of their birth. Or maybe it was because of her date with Leandro, a Costa Rican man, that made her aware of how different he was from American men.
She had not dated before she left Costa Rica for
the States, so her introduction to the opposite sex was through the men she met in college. The fact that she had spent sixteen of her first eighteen years of life in a Central American country was undetectable once she fully immersed herself in the culture of her biological parents.
Walking into the large house, she smiled. The thick stucco walls kept the heat at bay and permitted the interiors to remain cool despite the intense tropical heat. She made her way up the staircase, feeling the muscles in the back of her legs pulling. It had been a while since she had worn a pair of heels. She could not remember the last time she had put on a dress and heels and gone out dancing.
Not since Xavier
, a silent voice whispered to her. Not since she walked away from her ex-husband and her marriage. Her career had become a priority, and dating something she relegated to her past.
Now her priority was her brother. She’d returned to Costa Rica to bond with her family and do what she could to help secure his release from a Florida prison.
She decided to check on David before going to her own bedroom. Leandro had given her specific instructions. He wanted the American businessman ambulatory. It was important that David get out of bed for longer periods of time. He promised to deliver an adjustable cane to facilitate his patient’s walking.
Standing at the open doorway she saw that David was not in bed. Walking into the room, she noticed that he sat on the armchair, his injured foot on the footstool.
The large bedroom was semi-dark, the only light coming from the light of a bedside lamp. David appeared to be asleep, eyes closed, his head resting against the high back of the chair.
She moved quietly toward the doorway, stopping when he said, “Do you like him?”
Turning slowly, Serena stared at David staring back at her, registering the deep, melodious sound of his voice for the first time. Whenever he spoke Spanish it sounded as if he were singing a sensual love song. She much preferred to hear him speak Spanish.
“Excuse me?”
“I asked if you like him.”
She laughed in a low, throaty chuckle. Folding her hands on her hips, she shook her heard. “Vain and arrogant, too, Mr. Cole?”
A slow smile deepened the dimples in his cheeks. “If you say so, Miss Morris.”
“I say so.”
Raising a hand, he beckoned to her. “Please come and talk to me.”
She did not move. “What do you want to talk about?”
He lowered his hand. “Anything. If I go back to bed I’m going to fall asleep again, and I’ve slept more in the past two days than I’ve slept the past month.”
Making her way slowly across the bedroom, Serena’s eyes sparkled in a friendly smile. “I give you less than a week before you’ll be able to go home.”
“I have to take care of some business before I return home.”
“You’ll have to wait for my father to return from San José for that.”
David’s uninjured eye widened as he felt his pulse quicken. Vertical slashes appeared between his eyes as he stared at Serena standing beside his chair. “Your father?”
Leaning down and gently moving his foot, she sat
on the footstool and crossed her outstretched legs at the ankles. “Yes. My father is Raul Cordero-Vega.”
He felt as if he had been punched in the gut. His brow furrowed and he wondered if his being at
La Montaña
was a coincidence or was it by design. He knew Vega wanted him in Limón, and for the first time he suspected perhaps Vega was the mastermind behind his assault and abduction. He and Cordero-Vega despised each other, and the woman he was attracted to was the daughter of his nemesis. “But isn’t your name Morris?”