Now and Always (5 page)

He groaned and looked away, trying to control himself. He sensed that she wouldn’t appreciate being ogled. She was too independent, probably too feminist, to appreciate his appreciation of her.

At his moan, Connie took her eyes off the road to check him out. “You okay?”

His head whipped around. “I’m … just a crick,” he said, rubbing the hair at the nape of his neck as he looked away, a flush on his cheeks.

Connie’s intuition and training told her he was lying, but she let it pass, needing to concentrate on the traffic. At the end of the causeway, she stayed on Fifth Street which ended a few blocks later on Ocean Drive. She made a left, cruising down the street where a slow stream of traffic moved northward.

“It might have been easier to go down Collins,” he said, gesturing to a side street that would let them backtrack to one of the other main avenues.

“I know,” she said, looking over at him. “But I love to see what’s going on down here. What new sights there are.”

He chuckled. “Me, too.”

They rode along in silence, her gaze meeting his occasionally as they checked out the action going on in the hotels and clubs. People milled in front of the buildings and strolled along the sidewalk. Others bounced and danced to the sounds of the music coming from the clubs. The neon trimmings and signs on the hotels threw colors down onto the crowd, painting them brightly with the hues of the tropics.

Connie smiled and tapped her hands against the wheel as they passed one bar that was blasting a hot Latin mix onto the street.

“Like it?” Victor asked.

She glanced at him and noted he was also drumming his fingers to the beat. When she nodded, he smiled, and said, “Maybe we’ll have time to drop in for a dance later.”

“That sounds good.”

Chapter 5

The purple neon of the hotel where the restaurant was located became visible a block or two further up and after detouring up and around a few blocks, Connie pulled up in front of the hotel. A valet met them on the street and shouted a greeting to Victor, who waved at the man as he took Connie’s keys.

She raised an eyebrow and met Victor on the sidewalk. “Don’t get out often, do you?”

“Would you believe I prefer their cooking to mine?” he said facetiously as he guided her up the stairs to the restaurant.

Inside, the maitre’d greeted Victor warmly and eyed Connie speculatively. “It’s nice to see you’re not alone
again
, my friend,” the young man teased.

Victor put a hand over his heart, grimacing. “Dude. You’re ruining my reputation.”

The maitre’d held out his hand and motioned Connie in the direction of the veranda. Victor followed behind her and she couldn’t help overhearing the maitre’d’s softly whispered comment. “I don’t think this is a lady you want to impress with
that
kind of reputation.”

She laughed and Victor groaned, aware that she had heard the other man’s comment.

The table he led them to was outdoors, on the edge of the veranda, and along a large stone balustrade. The top of the table was a deep, plum-colored faux marble, elegantly laid with fine white linen napkins and silver that gleamed even in the soft light. A small bouquet of fragrant freesia sat in a dainty crystal vase. Beside it, a votive-shaped candle cast hazy light over the deep tones of the tabletop. Overhead, ceiling fans rotated slowly, stirring the breeze from the nearby ocean.

The maitre’d held the chair out for her and she sat and waited for Victor to slip into the spot across from her. The table was narrow and as he did so, their knees bumped. She stiffened at the contact, unprepared for the sudden warmth the simple touch generated. Apparently sensing her unease, Victor shifted his chair back slightly to give her more room.

A waiter placed the menus before them. “Something to drink before dinner?” he asked, but they said “No” in unison. Either could be called away at any moment. They needed to be sharp.

“You ordered the
paella
, right?” the waiter questioned.

“Yes, we did,” Victor confirmed. “Would you like an appetizer, Connie? The
tapas
here are very good.”

“Sure.” She nodded and returned the menu to the waiter as Victor placed the order.

“Of course, Dr. Cienfuegos,” the waiter replied smoothly.

It was clear to Connie he was well known here. She tried to tell herself that being out and about was typical of a man in his position.

“It bothers the hell out of you, doesn’t it?” he said, surprising her with his insight.

“I’ve just realized that you’re what I usually try to avoid.” She raised her glass and took a sip of water as he stared at her intently. The heat of his gaze transferred itself to her and she slipped an ice cube into her mouth, using its cool to try and regain her calm.

Victor leaned back in his chair, rested an elbow on the arm, and rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Really. And what is that?” he asked as he tapped a finger to his lips.

She tried not to envy those fingers as she wondered how his mouth would warm her chilled lips.

She set the glass back down, leaned her elbows on the table, and steepled her fingers before her. “You break all my golden rules on who
not
to date, namely men who are too macho, too handsome, and too rich.”

He laughed and shook his head, surprising her. He seemed totally unfazed by how she saw him. “I’m not insulted. Should I be?”

“Well ….” She stumbled and tried to recover. “Men who are too macho expect to be served and waited on by women who stay at home and have their babies while they have an assortment of affairs.”

“Ouch. That hurts,” he said with a slight grimace, but she could tell he was just teasing. He leaned closer, and as he did so, a strong ocean breeze blew a lock of his dark hair across his forehead. She reached out with the hand with the cast, fingered it back in place, pausing to straighten the rumpled silk. When she would have moved her hand away, he trapped her fingers in his and brought their joined hands to rest on the table. The warmth grew in her again, spreading from her fingers, up her arm, causing an unsettling tightening across her breasts.

“I’ve never understood why any man would marry someone and then spend his life cheating on her.” He rubbed his fingers across hers until he reached the edge of her cast. He frowned then. “So, tell me what’s so bad about my being too rich and too good-looking?”

Connie hesitated, but he figured he might as well know all her reservations right up front. “Well, I guess the too good-looking goes hand in hand with being too macho. You think you’re the best thing to come along which I guess goes hand in hand with being too rich. When you have that much money you think you can’t do anything wrong.”

Victor tossed his hands up in resignation. “Well, three strikes and I’m out and I never even got to the plate.”

Connie laughed and shook her head. “Why do men always use sports metaphors?”

He grinned as the waiter brought over the
tapas
, a tasty combination of rich Spanish
Manchego
cheese,
Serrano
ham, and assorted olives and roasted peppers. Alongside were toast points and
alioli
, the rich garlic mayonnaise common in Spanish cuisine.

Victor motioned for her to take her choice and Connie laid a few items on her plate. She waited until he had also taken some of the appetizers and began the conversation anew. “You must be wondering why I even let you into the ballpark.”

He chuckled. “I think you mean, up to the plate, but I am wondering,” he said after swallowing a mouthful of cheese.

Connie had been wondering about it herself. She hadn’t been kidding him when she said he was the type she usually avoided. The same type that usually made her feel insecure, she admitted. But for some reason she had.

Lust
, she thought, but tamped that idea down and shrugged, meeting his gaze. “I guess because Carmen spoke highly of you. She’s generally not all that bad a judge of character.”

She hesitated and tossed him a quick grin. “Of course, there is a first time for everything.” She nibbled on a toast point spread with the
alioli
and some of the prosciutto-like
Serrano
ham.

Victor laughed and experienced that same heady kind of feeling he had first felt with Carmen’s arrival a few weeks ago. Like Carmen, there was something about Connie that made him feel alive again. In Connie it was dangerously coupled with an incredibly potent dose of sexuality and with an equally hazardous desire to test her waters and see if they were as deep and turbulent as they seemed. “So do I get to tell you why you wouldn’t have been my first choice either?”

Her head snapped up at his words. “To be honest, I’ve been wondering what possessed you to come over last night at the gala.”

Even in the dim light on the veranda the flush on her cheeks was obvious. He moved closer to her and leaning over the small width of the table, cupped her cheek in his hand. “If you’ve looked in a mirror lately, you would know. You’re a very beautiful woman.”

Connie flushed even more and fumbled with her napkin before meeting his gaze. “I’m not the type men like you gravitate towards.”

“You are
my
type,” he surprised himself by saying. His type was generally the tall leggy blondes that could be found along the paths in Lummus Park, roller skating in bikinis that exposed nearly every inch of their honed bodies. Or the equally sleek Cuban debutantes, with their perfectly groomed looks and designer gowns.

Connie’s hand twitched slightly before she pulled it away, confirming that she had seen the doubt on his face.

“Thanks for being such a gentleman, but it’s not really necessary,” she replied tightly.

Victor leaned back in his chair once more and was studying her intently when the waiter brought over a large
olla
, a terra cotta casserole filled with fragrant saffron-colored rice and seafood. Clams, mussels, shrimp, and lobsters swam in the saffron-flavored rice along with pieces of chicken and Spanish
chorizo
sausage. The waiter carefully spooned out the servings onto their plates and for the next few minutes there was silence as they both savored the rich flavors of the
paella
.

When Victor was finished with his first serving, the waiter came over, divided the remaining rice and seafood on his and Connie’s plates, and removed a dish piled high with their empty shells.

Connie watched Victor enjoying his meal and sighed, drawing his attention.

He raised his head to meet her gaze. “Something wrong?”

“No, on the contrary. Everything’s wonderful. It’s just a lot of food.” She patted her belly, which she imagined had grown drastically since they had sat down to eat.

He grinned. “Yeah, but remember that dancing you promised? You need your energy, so eat up.”

His good humor was contagious and Connie was hard pressed to resist it. She dug into her second helping, occasionally glancing past the veranda balustrade to the beach across the street and the palms swaying in the night air. By the time she returned her attention to her plate, Victor was already finished with his. She took another bite, then put down her fork, too full for anything else.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

She smiled and surprised herself again by reaching out and giving his hand a squeeze. When he held onto her hand, she let herself linger there, liking the weight of his hand in hers. Liking the warmth. She was starting to grow used to it. “I enjoyed it. Thanks for making this such a nice night.”

“Even though I’m everything you try to avoid with your golden rules of dating?” he reminded her playfully.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Well, for your good behavior, I’ll take the too macho label away if it’ll make you feel better.”

He cupped her hand in both of his and drew it toward his heart. “You’ve made me a very happy man.”

“Wow,” she said, pulling her hand away. “Now I know why you and Carmen get along so well.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Really? Why?”

“Because you’re both crazy.”

He laughed and motioned to the waiter for the check. “Would it surprise you if I said that normally I’m boring and really, really, really uptight?”

“Yes. It would totally be hard for me to believe.”

He took hold of her hand again. “Believe it. It’s just something that you and Carmen seem to bring out in me.”

For a moment an unfamiliar pang of jealousy rolled over her. She and Carmen rarely attracted the same type of man. Up until his comment a second ago, it hadn’t occurred to her that he and Carmen might be involved. “Do you and Carmen have a thing going on?”

The waiter brought the check over and it wasn’t until after he had signed it and they were walking down Ocean Drive that he answered her question. “Carmen and I are friends, employer and employee. Nothing more.”

Connie nodded and when he wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close to his body to avoid the crowd along the sidewalk, she went willingly, enjoying the easy camaraderie he had mentioned earlier. Enjoying the press of his hard body against hers. They were silent as they walked down the few blocks to the club they had passed earlier. A large crowd teemed outside, waiting to enter the busy discotheque.

Victor turned to her and offered his apologies. “I’m sorry. I never thought it would be this mobbed.” He nearly had to shout to be heard over the music blaring from inside and the chatter of the waiting crowd.

“That’s all right,” she shouted back. “Let’s just go for a walk.” She motioned across the street and he nodded, holding her hand as they waited to cross Ocean Drive. A row of cars cruised down the street in either direction and finally, two stopped to let them cross onto the park side of the street. Once there, Victor drew her close to him again and they strolled away from the sidewalk that edged the street to the broad, winding path. A short seawall along the path separated the park from the beach. At night there were only a few in-line skaters on the path instead of the daytime crush of moving bodies. They had traded those wheels for the cars that paraded down the drive.

The wind was stronger in the park, the sounds of the surf louder than that of the partying people in the hotels and clubs across the street. The pachang-pachang of the Latin music rhythms combined with the susurrus of the surf and the rustle of the palm branches to make its own unique symphony.

Connie breathed in deeply of the salt-kissed air and the fresh citrusy aftershave Victor wore. They walked down companionably to the end of the park, then turned back, heading toward the hotel and restaurant once more. When the building was across the street, Victor stopped and sat on the cement and seashell wall bordering the beach. He drew her next to him to lean against his hard thigh and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” he asked.

Connie nodded and laid her head against his shoulder as she glanced up and down the strip. “I always liked coming here and seeing all the bright colors on the hotels. All the neon glittering at night.”

“I did, too. It was sad when the area started going downhill. Who would’ve thought it would ever come to life again?”

He said it with such pride and something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Do you wish you were a part of it?”

He shrugged, dislodging her head on his shoulder.

She stood to get a better look at him and positioned herself between his legs, which were parted to balance his weight on the low seawall. His face was illuminated by the bright moonlight. It accentuated his lean features, traced the planes of his face with its harsh strokes. She laid her hand on his cheek and the other on his shoulder, softening against him.

Victor smiled and raised his hand until it cradled hers as it rested against his face. “In a way I am. Every time I go to the hospital I rebuild things. Someone’s leg. Someone’s wrist. Sometimes someone’s life. I’d like to think that in my own way, I do something to keep this city growing.”