One Month with the Magnate (8 page)

She stroked his rough cheek, ran her thumb across his full lower lip. He breathed in deep and closed his eyes. He
was holding back, gripping the edge of the countertop so hard his knuckles were white.

She knew she was playing with fire and she didn't care. This time she
wanted
to get burned.

I
sabelle leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Emilio's cheek. The unique scent of his skin, the rasp of his beard stubble, was familiar and comfortable and exciting all at once. Which was probably why her heart was beating so hard and her hands were trembling. The idea that he might push her away now was terrifying, but she wanted this more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life.

She kissed the corner of his mouth, then his lips and he lost it. He wrapped his hands around her hips and tugged her to the edge of the countertop, kissing her hard. Her breasts crushed against his chest, legs went around his waist. This would be no slow, sensual tease like last night.

She had always fantasized about their first time being sweet and tender, and preferably in a bed. There would be candles and champagne and soft music playing. Now none of that seemed to matter. She wanted him with a desperation she'd never felt before. She wanted him to
rip off her panties and take her right there in the kitchen, before he changed his mind.

She tunneled her fingers through his hair, fed off his mouth, his stubble rough against her chin. He slid his hands up her sides to her breasts, cupping them in his palms, capturing the tips between his fingers and pinching. She gasped and tightened her legs around him, praying silently,
Please don't stop.

He tugged at the top button on her uniform, and when it didn't immediately come loose he ripped it open instead. The dress was ruined, anyway, so what difference did it make? And it thrilled her to know that he couldn't wait to get his hands on her.

He peeled the dress off her shoulders and down her arms, pinning them to her sides, ravaging her with kisses and bites—her shoulders and her throat and the tops of her breasts. Then he yanked down one of her bra cups, took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and she almost died it felt so good.

Please,
please
don't stop.

She felt his hand on her thigh, held her breath as it moved slowly upward, the tips of his fingers brushing against the crotch of her panties…

And the doorbell rang.

Emilio cursed. She groaned. Not now, not when they were
so
close.

“Ignore it,” she said.

He cursed again, dropping his head to her shoulder, breathing hard. “I can't. A courier from work is dropping off documents. I need them.” He glanced at the clock on the oven display. “Although he wasn't supposed to be here until
noon.
”

This was so not fair.

He backed away and she had no choice but to drop her legs from around his waist.

This was
so
not fair.

“You're going to have to get it,” he said.

“Me?” Her uniform was in shambles. Ripped and stained and rumpled.

“Consider the alternative,” he said, gesturing to the tent in the front of his pajama pants.

Good point.

He lifted her off the counter and set her on her feet. She wrestled her dress back up over her shoulders and tugged the skirt down over her thighs as she hurried to the door. With the button gone she would have to hold her uniform together, or give the delivery guy a special tip for his trouble.

She started to turn and Emilio caught her by the arm.

“Don't think for a second that I'm finished with you.”

Oh boy.
The heat in his eyes, the sizzle in his voice made her heart skip a beat. Was he going to finish what he started this time? No, what
she
had started.

The idea of what was to come made her knees weak.

The doorbell rang again and he set her loose. “Go.”

She dashed through the house to the foyer, catching a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror by the door. She cringed at her rumpled appearance, convinced that the delivery person would know immediately that she and Emilio had been fooling around. Well, so what if he did? As long as he didn't recognize her, who cared?

Holding the collar of her dress closed, she yanked the door open, expecting the person on the other side to be wearing a delivery uniform. But the man standing on Emilio's porch was dressed in faded jeans, cowboy boots and a trendy black leather jacket. His dark hair was
shoulder length and slicked back from his face, and there was something vaguely familiar about him.

He blatantly took in Isabelle's wrinkled and stained uniform, the razor burn on her chin and throat, her mussed hair. One brow tipped up in a move that was eerily familiar, and he asked with blatant amusement, “Rough morning, huh?”

 

Emilio cursed silently when he recognized the voice of the man on the other side of the door. After three months without so much as a phone call, why did his brother have to pick now to show his face again?

Talk about a mood killer.

He just hoped like hell that Estefan didn't recognize Isabelle, or this could get ugly.

Emilio rounded the corner to the foyer and pushed his way past Isabelle, who didn't seem to know what to say.

“I've got this,” he said, and noted with amusement that as she stepped back from the door, she shot a worried glance at his crotch.

“I'll go change,” she said, heading for the kitchen.

“Hey, bro,” Estefan said, oozing charm. “Long time no see.”

He looked good, and though he didn't appear to be under the influence, he was a master at hiding his addictions. Estefan was a handsome, charming guy, which was why people caved to his requests after he let them down time and time again. But not Emilio. He'd learned his lesson.

“What do you want, Estefan?”

“You're not going to invite me inside?”

With Isabelle there? Not a chance. If he had the slightest clue what Emilio was doing, he would exploit the situation to his own benefit.

“I don't even know where you've been for the past three months. Mama has been worried sick about you.”

“Not in jail, if that's what you're thinking.”

No, because if he'd been arrested, Alejandro would have heard about it. But there were worse things than incarceration.

“I know you probably won't believe this, but I'm clean and sober. I have been for months.”

He was right, Emilio didn't believe it. Not for a second. And even if he was, on the rare occasions he'd actually stuck with a rehab program long enough to get clean, it hadn't taken him long to fall back into his old habits.

“What do you want, Estefan?”

“Do I need a reason to see my big brother?”

Maybe not, but he always had one. Usually he needed money, or a place to crash. Occasionally both. He'd even asked to borrow Emilio's car a couple of times, because his own cars had a habit of being repossessed or totaled in accidents that were never Estefan's fault.

He wanted something. He always did.

“Unless you tell me why you're here, I'm closing the door.”

The smile slipped from Estefan's face when he realized charm wasn't going to work this time. “I just want to talk to you.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“Come on, Emilio. I'm your baby brother.”

“Tell me where you've been.”

“Los Angeles, mostly. I was working on a business deal.”

A shady one, he was sure. Most of Estefan's “business” deals involved stolen property or drugs, or any number of scams. The fact that he was a small-time criminal with a
federal prosecutor for a brother was the only thing that had kept him from doing hard time.

“You're really not going to let me in?” he asked, looking wounded.

“I think I already made that clear.”

“You know, I never took you for the type to do the hired help. But I also never expected to see Isabelle Winthrop working for you. Unless the maid's uniform is just some kinky game you play.”

Emilio cursed under his breath.

“Did you think I wouldn't recognize her?”

He had hoped, but he should have known better.

“I don't suppose Mama knows what you're doing.”

He recognized a threat when he heard one. He held the door open. “Five minutes.”

With an arrogant smile, Estefan strolled in.

“Wait here,” Emilio said, then walked to the kitchen. Isabelle had changed into a clean uniform and was straightening up the mess from breakfast. She'd fixed her hair and the beard burns had begun to fade.

He should have waited until he shaved to kiss her, but then, he hadn't been expecting her to make the first move. And he hadn't meant to reciprocate. So much for regaining his control. If Estefan hadn't shown up, Emilio had no doubt they would be in his bed right now. Which would have been a huge mistake.

This wasn't working out at all as he'd planned. He wasn't sure if it was his fault, or hers. All he knew was that it had to stop.

She tensed when he entered the room, looking past him to the doorway. He turned to see that his brother had followed him. Figures. Why would he expect Estefan to do anything he asked?

“It's okay,” Emilio told Isabelle. “We're going to my
office to talk. I just wanted to tell you to forget about breakfast.”

She nodded, then squared her shoulders and met Estefan's gaze. “Mr. Suarez.”

“Ms. Winthrop,” he said, the words dripping with disdain. “Shouldn't you be in prison?”

The old Isabelle would have withered from his challenge, but this Isabelle held her head high. “Five more weeks. Thanks for asking. Can I offer you something to drink?”

“He's not staying,” Emilio said, gesturing Estefan to follow him. “Let's get this over with.”

When they were in his office with the door closed, Estefan said, “Isabelle Winthrop, huh? I had no idea you were that hard up.”

“Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not sleeping with her.” Not yet, anyway. And he was beginning to think making her work as his housekeeper might have to be the extent of his revenge. There were consequences to getting close to her that he had never anticipated.

“So, what is she doing here?”

“She works for me.”

“Why would you hire someone like her? After what her family did to our mother. After what she did to you.”

“That's my business.”

A slow smile crossed his face. “Ah, I get it. Make her work for you, the way our mother worked for her. Nice.”

“I'm glad you approve.”

“What does she get out of it?”

“She wants Alejandro to cut a deal for her mother, so she won't go to prison.”

“So, Alejandro knows what you're doing?”

Emilio took a seat behind his desk, to keep the balance
of power clear. “Let's talk about you, Estefan. What do
you
want?”

“You assume I'm here because I want something from you?”

Emilio shot him a look, putting a chink in the arrogant facade. Estefan crossed the room to look out the window. He didn't even have the guts to look Emilio in the face. “I want you to hear me out before you say anything.”

Emilio folded his arms across his chest.
Here we go.

“There are these people, and I owe them money.”

Emilio opened his mouth to say he wouldn't give him a penny, but Estefan raised a hand to stop him. “I'm not asking you for a handout. That's not why I'm here. I have the money to pay them. It's just not accessible at the moment.”

“Why?”

“Someone is holding it for me.”

“Who?”

“A business associate. He has to liquidate a few assets to pay me, and that's going to take several days. But these men are impatient. I just need a place to hang out until I get the funds. Somewhere they won't find me. It would only be for a few days. Thanksgiving at the latest.”

Which was
five
days away. Emilio didn't want his brother around for five minutes, much less the better part of a week.

“Suppose they come looking for you here?” Emilio asked.

“Even if they did, this place is a fortress.” He crossed the room, braced his hands on Emilio's desk, a desperation in his eyes that he didn't often let show. “You have to help me, Emilio. I've been trying so hard to set my life straight. After I pay this debt I'm in the clear. I have a friend in
rodeo promotions who is willing to give me a job. I could start over, do things right this time.”

He wanted to believe his brother, but he'd heard the same story too many times before.

Estefan must have sensed that Emilio was about to say no because he added, “I could go to Mama, and you know she would let me stay, but these are not the kind of people you want anywhere near your mother. There's no telling what they might do.”

Leaving Emilio no choice but to let him stay. And Estefan knew it. Emilio should have guessed he would resort to emotional blackmail to get his way. He also suspected that if he refused, it was likely everyone would find out that Isabelle was in his home.

He rose from his chair. “Five days. If you haven't settled your debt by then, you're on your own.”

Estefan embraced him. “Thank you, Emilio.”

“Just so we're clear, while you're staying in my house there will be no drinking or drugs.”

“I don't do that anymore. I'm clean.”

“And you won't tell anyone that Isabelle is here.”

“Not a soul. You have my word.”

“And you will
not
give her a hard time.”

Estefan raised a brow.

“My house, my rules.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“I'll have Isabelle get a room ready for you.”

“I have a few things to take care of. But I'll be back later tonight. Probably late.”

“I'll be in bed by midnight, so if you're not back by then, you're in the pool house for the night.”

“If you give me the alarm code—”

Emilio shot him a
not-in-this-lifetime
look.