Like No One Else (20 page)

Paulo thought so, too, but he didn't admit it for fear of sounding like a sap. “When Ramon died, he left the ranch to Rafe and divided his fortune evenly among his children, as well as Abuelita Maria.”

“He left her money?”

Paulo nodded. “She was too proud and stubborn to take a dime from him when he was alive. This way, she had no choice. She gave some of the money to my parents, then built a nice little home for herself in Oaxaca. For the first time in years, she finally seems to be at peace.”

“That's good. Do your parents and siblings still live in San Antonio?”

Again Paulo nodded. “They're not going anywhere.”

“How did they feel about you moving away from home? I hope they took it better than my family did.”

Paulo chuckled dryly. “Let's just say I've put a lot of miles on my car going back and forth between Houston and San Antonio.”

Tommie winced. “Thanks for making me feel guilty.”

Paulo laughed. “Hey, you asked.”

Her answering smile was distracted as she searched his face, looking as if she had something far weightier than familial duty on her mind.

He waited.

“Have you ever dated a black woman?” she asked bluntly.

Paulo didn't blink, though the question had caught him off guard. “What do you think?”

Her dark brows furrowed. “I don't know. That's why I'm asking you.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I'm just curious. God, why is it like pulling teeth just to get you to answer questions?”

Paulo choked out an incredulous laugh. “What're you talking about? I just spent the past twenty minutes answering your questions!”

“Not without some prodding.” She lifted her head from the back of the sofa, forcing him to release her hair, and pinned him with a direct look. “Why are you avoiding my question?”

“Have you ever dated a Hispanic man?” Paulo countered.

Her eyes narrowed. “I asked you first.”

“Yes. I've dated black women.”

Tommie nodded slowly. “That shouldn't surprise me. You've probably been with women of every race and nationality.”

“Just about.” He grinned. “What can I say? I had to make up for lost time. Growing up on the south side, most of the girls I knew and went to school with were Hispanic. The only times I encountered black girls were when I visited Rafe in Houston. Which was another reason I enjoyed those summer vacations so much,” he added with a devilish wink.

“I'll bet,” Tommie muttered.

“Your turn. Have you ever dated a Hispanic man?”

She hesitated, tugging her lush bottom lip between her teeth. “What do you think?”

Paulo held her gaze. “I think you're an incredibly beautiful woman any man would kill to be with,” he said huskily.

She blushed, casting her eyes downward. “Thank you, but I wasn't fishing for compliments.”

“That wasn't a compliment,
querida
. That was the God's honest truth. Now who's avoiding questions?”

Her eyes lifted to his. “No, I've never been with a Hispanic man.”

“Never?”

She shook her head. “Never.”

Paulo didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Relieved because he liked being a woman's first, disappointed because her answer suggested he might not even get the chance.

“Any particular reason?” he probed.

She shrugged. “I've always dated only black men,” she answered honestly. “It's nothing personal against any other race. It's just a preference.” She paused, her lips twisting with bitter irony. “Not that limiting myself to black men has gotten me anywhere. I'm thirty-three years old and nowhere near getting married.”

“Is that what you want? To be married?”

“Of course. I mean, don't get me wrong,” she hastened to add, “I'm not desperate or anything. I enjoy the freedom of being single and not having to answer to anyone but myself.”

“But you get lonely sometimes,” Paulo said quietly. “You don't want to have to use the television for background noise. You want someone to be there at the end of a long day, to listen to you vent and make you laugh. You want someone to share your life with.”

Tommie gazed at him, her eyes soft with wonder and an unnamed longing that made something tighten in his chest. Something he didn't care to examine too closely.

They stared at each other for a long, breathless moment.

Tommie was the first to look away, clearing her throat and glancing down at her watch. “I should go. It's getting late, and I know we both have a full day tomorrow.”

Paulo was surprised by the stab of disappointment he felt at the thought of her leaving. He was even more surprised when he heard himself saying, “Why don't you just crash here for the night?”

Tommie looked equally stunned. “You want me to…spend the night?”

“Sure, why not? It's almost midnight. You're already here. Besides, it's not safe for you to be alone on the road this late at night. In case you've forgotten, there's a killer on the loose.”

She grimaced. “I definitely haven't forgotten that. But I don't want to put you out, Paulo.”

“It's only one night. You can have my bed. The sheets are clean, just changed today.”

She wavered. “I don't know. The sofa isn't long enough for you. You won't get a good night's rest.”

“Let me worry about that.” When she still hesitated, he added, “You said you'd already packed an overnight bag, right?”

“Yes, but that was to stay with Zhane in case he needed me. Not to stay here with you.”

Paulo gave her a slow, taunting grin. “What's the matter, Tommie? Afraid you won't be able to resist ravishing me in the middle of the night?”

She snorted out a laugh. “In your dreams, Sanchez. If anything, I should be asking
you
that question.”

His grin widened. “You think I won't be able to resist the temptation of having a sexy, beautiful woman under my roof for one night?”

“Have you ever?”

“Can't say that I have. But there's a first time for everything.”

“Yeah, right.”

He cocked a brow. “That sounds an awful lot like a challenge, Miss Purnell,” he drawled. “Are you sure you're up for it? You're batting oh for one, and I gotta tell you, I don't like your odds on this one. Because as hard as it's been for me to keep my eyes off you in that fuck-me getup, once I hit the sack, I'm pretty much out like a light until morning.”

Those dark, magnificent eyes glittered with challenge. “Is that right?”

“Afraid so.”

“I see.”

Slowly, deliberately, Tommie uncrossed her long, shapely legs sheathed in those fantasy-inducing thigh-high boots. Paulo watched, both amused and wary, as she stood and sauntered over to the table in the foyer where she'd left her purse earlier. When it “accidentally” slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, Paulo wanted to roll his eyes, but he was afraid to miss a second of what came next.

Tommie leaned over to retrieve the fallen handbag, deliberately treating him to a long, mind-blowing look at her round, delectable ass. His body hardened. He swallowed a groan, unable to tear his gaze away.

As if in super-slow motion, she straightened and tossed her long hair backward, combing her fingers through the dark, lustrous strands before reaching inside her purse and removing a set of keys.

She turned and started back toward him, hips undulating, sultry gaze locked on to his, the barest hint of a provocative smile curving her lips. She stopped directly in front of him, keys dangling from her fingertips, legs splayed apart in a centerfold pose.

Good God
.

“My bag is in the trunk of my car,” she said, her voice like cool silk. “Why don't you run along like a good little boy and get it for me?” If she'd had a whip in hand, she would have cracked it.

Chuckling at the thought, Paulo got slowly to his feet, purposely taking his time. He'd do her bidding, but he wouldn't be rushed.

As he reached for the keys, Tommie held them just out of reach. “Do you know which one is my car?”

His mouth twitched. “I parked beside it two nights in a row. I think I can figure it out.”

She smiled lazily. “All right.” She placed the keys in his outstretched palm, closed his fingers around them.

As she slowly backed away from him, she reached up and began unbuttoning the jumper, holding his gaze. “I always take a long, hot shower before bed,” she purred. “Do you mind?”

Paulo swallowed. “Not at all. Guest towels are in the hall closet.”

“Mmm, thanks. You can just put my bag on the bed. I'll leave the bedroom door open for you.”

He nodded shortly. “Okay.”

As he turned to head for the front door, he caught a glimpse of black lace covering the ripe swell of a breast.

Saliva pooled in his mouth. His erection throbbed.

It was going to be a very long night.

With any luck, he'd make it to morning with his sanity intact.

When Tommie agreed to spend the night at Paulo's apartment, she'd been so preoccupied with devising ways to torture him that she'd underestimated how
she
would be affected by the overnight arrangement. She'd underestimated the way her fertile imagination would keep her awake with thoughts of him lying just down the hall, his dark hair tousled, his hard, muscular body completely nude beneath a blanket. Because even if Paulo didn't really sleep in the buff, he sure as hell did in her fantasies.

Two hours after she'd turned off the bedside lamp and shut her eyes, sleep eluded her. Unable to resist temptation any longer, she threw back the covers and slipped from the massive sleigh bed. She'd steal a peek at her sleeping host, get a glass of cold water, then come right back to bed.

She started to reach for the silk robe hung across the footboard, then stopped. She glanced down at herself, taking in the slinky pajama tank top and short-short bottoms she'd worn to bed. A slow, naughty grin curved her lips. Why would she cover up with a robe when she was supposed to be giving Paulo a taste of what he was missing?

On the other hand, Tommie thought sourly, if he really
did
sleep like the dead, as he'd suggested earlier, then he wouldn't be seeing her anyway. But just in case, she swapped the pajama shorts for a skimpy pair of black lace panties. She'd never believed in doing things halfway.

Chuckling silently to herself, Tommie opened the door and slipped quietly from the room. The hardwood floor was cool and smooth beneath her bare feet as she crept down the hallway.

On the far wall of the living room, moonlight filtered through the sheer draperies, clearly illuminating Paulo's sleeping form on the leather sofa. He was lying on his back, his heavily muscled arms folded behind his head, his breathing deep and slightly uneven, as if he were having fitful dreams. Just as she'd imagined, his black hair was mussed and he wore no shirt, revealing broad shoulders and a wide chest ridged with muscle. Dark hair swirled across his flat abdomen, arrowing into a line that disappeared beneath the covers resting at his waist.

As Tommie stood there gazing at him in the shadowy moonlight, a slow heat spread through her veins and pooled between her legs. She wanted to strip naked, run across the room, and throw herself upon the dark, muscular length of him. She wanted to rub her fevered flesh against his, straddle his powerful thighs, and guide his thick, throbbing shaft into her eager body.

She must have made a sound, because suddenly Paulo stirred and opened his eyes. Moving with lightning-quick reflexes, he reached beneath the pillow and bolted upright on the sofa.

Tommie cried out, shocked to find herself on the business end of his 9 mm Glock. All the air rushed from her lungs. She stood frozen, immobilized with terror.

“Tommie?” His voice was raw, disoriented.

“It's me,” she squeaked.

Paulo reached over, flipping on the table lamp. Dark, haunted eyes swept across her face. “Are you okay?”

“I—I don't know,” Tommie stammered, taking a step back. “I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes.”

Paulo grimaced. He shoved the gun under his pillow, then swung his long legs over the side of the sofa and raked a trembling hand through his hair, mussing it even more. He looked wild, visibly shaken. “I'm sorry,” he said, his voice pitched low. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

Hand pressed to her racing heart, Tommie drew a deep, steadying breath. “Remind me never to wake you in the middle of the night. My God, Paulo, you nearly shot me! What the hell?”

“I'm sorry,” he repeated huskily. He pushed out a ragged breath and closed his eyes, dropping his face into his hands. “I was having a bad dream.”

Tommie faltered, studying his bent head and hunched shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine.”

“Are you sure? Do you want a glass of—”

“I said I'm fine,” he snapped.

“Okay, okay,” she muttered, holding up her hands as she backed away. “You don't have to bite my head off. It's bad enough you almost
blew
it off.”

Slowly Paulo lifted his head and looked at her, noticing for the first time her state of undress. His gaze slid downward, taking in her skimpy tank top, lace panties, and bare feet in one hot, encompassing sweep. As his eyes returned to hers, Tommie was surprised to feel herself blushing.

“What's going on?” he murmured.

“Nothing. I was just on my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.”

A knowing gleam filled his eyes. “You couldn't sleep, huh?”

“I told you, I was thirsty. I'm a dancer—I drink a lot of water.”

He grinned. “Liar.”

Tommie bristled. “If I had trouble sleeping, it was only because I drank that Coke before going to bed.”

“That's funny,” Paulo drawled, leaning back against the sofa with his hands clasped behind his head, showing off silky tufts of dark armpit hair. “I drank a Coke, too, and I had no problem whatsoever falling asleep.”

Wanting to wipe the cocky grin off his face, Tommie fired back, “Yeah, well, considering the dream you were having, you might want to rethink that whole sleeping thing, Nosferatu.”

He blinked at her for a moment, then threw back his head and roared with laughter.

Incensed, Tommie stalked off toward the kitchen. This night was not turning out at all the way she'd envisioned. She was the one who was supposed to be sleeping like a baby while
he
tossed and turned restlessly, unable to stop thinking about her. She was supposed to be getting under
his
skin, not the other way around.

“I've been called many things in my life,” Paulo told her, still laughing, “but no woman's ever called me a vampire!”

“Then it was long overdue!” Tommie yelled back.

Marching into the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. She twisted off the cap and took a long swig, wishing it were something stronger. Why on earth had she agreed to spend the night at Paulo's apartment? The man drove her out of her damned mind! It was bad enough that he was sexy as hell and cocky to boot, that he knew just how to push all her buttons. But then to add insult to injury, he'd just pulled a gun on her!

Tommie shook her head, remembering the wild look in his eyes when he'd turned on the light and seen her standing across the room. What kind of nightmare had caused him to react so violently upon waking? More to the point, what kind of demons drove a man to sleep with a loaded gun under his pillow?

Although Tommie had spent the past three nights with him, the reality was that she did not know Paulo Sanchez at all. She knew what he chose to reveal to her, and even that was surrendered grudgingly, as she'd discovered that evening when she'd asked him questions about his background. She didn't know him, but she sensed that he was hiding something beneath his irreverent, devil-may-care facade. She read it in his eyes, heard it in his voice at rare, unguarded moments. An aching loneliness that spoke directly to her own.

Shaking off the maudlin thought, Tommie closed the refrigerator door. As she started from the kitchen Paulo appeared in the entrance, blocking her path.

She stumbled back a step, her pulse drumming as she stared at him. She'd never realized before how broad his shoulders were, the breadth of them seeming to fill the open doorway. His chest was even more magnificent up close, smooth olive skin rippling with taut, sinewy muscle and dusted with black hair. He'd pulled on a pair of dark jeans that rode low on his lean hips. The fly was unsnapped and unzipped.

Intentionally, Tommie suspected.

Swallowing hard, she dragged her gaze back up to his face. He was already watching her, the mischief glinting in his dark eyes confirming her suspicion about the jeans.

“Excuse me,” she muttered. When she tried to sidestep him he moved in the same direction, thwarting her escape. She attempted to go the other way, with the same result.

Heaving an exasperated breath, she glared at him. “I'm going back to bed.”

Paulo chuckled. “No, you're not,” he said mildly. “You woke me up, so now you have to keep me company until I fall asleep again.”

“But I have to get up early!” Tommie protested.

He shook his head, unsympathetic. “You should have thought of that before you came out of the room and woke me up.”

“I wanted to get some water.”

“Which you've hardly touched,” he pointed out, nodding toward the bottle in her hand, which was still more than three-quarters full.

Tommie glanced from the water to his head, then smiled narrowly.

Paulo read the intent in her gaze. “Don't even try it,” he warned, a split second before she raised the bottle. Quick as a snake striking he caught her wrist in midair, laughing as she squealed in helpless frustration.

“So you want to dump cold water on my head, huh?” he taunted, slowly prying the bottle from her grasp.

Tommie laughed, her fingers tightening as she struggled to hold on to it. But of course Paulo was too strong, and in no time at all he'd wrested it away from her, holding it out of her reach.

“Fine,” she huffed, blowing her tousled hair out of her eyes and trying to glare at him. “I hope you enjoy my backwash.”

Paulo grinned. “Oh, I don't plan to drink the water,” he said, advancing on her slowly and purposefully, a wicked, predatory gleam in his eyes.

Tommie shook her head, eyeing him warily. “Oh no.”

“Oh
yes
.”

“Don't do it,” she pleaded, backing away from him.

“Why shouldn't I? You were gonna do it to me. Turnabout is fair play.”

“I wasn't going to dump the water on you! I was only
thinking
about it!”

He grinned. “So it was premeditated. That makes you even guiltier.”

“Wait!” Tommie cried, finding herself trapped against the sink.

Paulo stopped, his eyes glimmering with amused mischief as he held the bottle poised in midair. “Yes?”

“Can I cop a plea?”

He paused, his black brows furrowing thoughtfully as he pretended to consider her request. After another moment he shook his head. “Sorry. No deal.”

“In that case—” But before Tommie could reach behind her to twist on the faucet, Paulo reacted.

She gasped, choking with laughter and indignation as cold water hit her squarely in the face.

As Paulo stepped back laughing, she managed to turn on the faucet and fling a handful of tap water at him. He ducked out of the way, catching only a few flying drops on his chest. Undeterred, Tommie kept pelting him until he raised the bottle and shook it, letting her see that enough water remained to give her face another good soaking.

“Had enough yet?”

Tommie hesitated a beat, then hurled another handful of water at him, this time getting him right in the face. He yelped in shock, and while he stood there wiping water from his dripping face, she made a run for it.

She didn't get very far before he captured her around the waist and hauled her roughly against him.

Tommie squealed in protest, squirming and thrashing in his arms, trying to escape before he doused her with the remaining bottled water.

It took several moments before she realized that he was no longer laughing.

Another moment passed before she realized that his body had gone completely still against hers.

When she tried to wiggle out of his grasp, he groaned. “Don't move,” he whispered raggedly into her hair.

Tommie went still, her mouth running dry.

Paulo tossed the water bottle into the sink, then leaned down and nuzzled her ear, pulling her earlobe between his teeth and sucking it. “God, you're driving me crazy.”

Tommie shivered, closing her eyes as the arms banded around her waist loosened, becoming less a hold and more a guide as he gently realigned her hips to his pelvis. When she found her buttocks pressed against the rigid length of his arousal, she gasped sharply. Deep in her belly, a knot of desire unfurled, spreading sensual fingers of heat through her limbs.

Her heart hammered in her chest as strong, callused fingers swept her hair over one shoulder, then cupped her nape and began to stroke her skin in lazy, tantalizing circles. His hands skimmed down her shoulders and arms before sliding upward, cupping her breasts through the damp tank top. “Mmmm, wet T-shirt,” he rumbled appreciatively.

Tommie let out a broken moan as his fingers rasped against her jutting nipples, kneading and caressing them until she arched against him like a stretching cat. She reveled in the feel of his bare, muscled chest against her back. His skin was fever hot, scorching her. She could feel the heat of his erection through his jeans, straining against her backside. It inflamed her, deepened the searing ache between her thighs until she thought she might come right then and there.