Tempted by Fate (24 page)

Lita smiled indulgently as she plucked a few stray growths from the dirt in the herb bed. “Ricardo is stubborn, but he’s not stupid.”

Both women looked at him.

He shook his head. “I know better than to enter this conversation.”

“See?” his grandmother said.

“You’ve trained him well.” Willow shot him an undecipherable look.

He felt a sense of satisfaction when she shuddered as his bare leg brushed hers. He wondered how she’d react if he leaned in and kissed her right here in front of Lita.

He was such a fool. He stuck his hands in his pockets, instead. It was better he didn’t touch her, even if it made him a coward. “Can I talk to you a moment?”

Willow glanced at his grandmother. “Of course,” she said, standing up.

Knowing Lita’s sharp ears would be tuned to their conversation, he led Willow to the other side of the yard and faced her. He searched her features as though he’d find answers there.

She regarded him curiously. “What is it?”

“I need to ask you some questions.”

“What else is new?” she asked with a wry smile.

Despite her casual reply, he felt her body tense in preparation. He frowned, trying not to imagine all the things she could be hiding. “They found information on the victims in your room.”

“Of course they did.” The exasperation in her voice was real. “I do a detailed background check on everyone I do business with. So, of course, I had a file on the PI.”

“And Joel Rocco?”

“I ran a check on him after he died.” She crossed her arms. “If you’d been set up to take the fall for someone’s murder, you’d want to know who he was, as well.”

He didn’t point out that he wouldn’t have been set up in the first place. “Did you compile the file on Quentin before or after he died?”

“Before. I needed to talk to him, and I wanted to know about him first.” Her steady gaze told him she was telling the truth.

“And why did you have a file on me?”

She dropped her arms and looked away. “Know your enemy.”

He lifted her gaze to meet his and saw defiance—like she dared him to call her a liar—and something else. Subterfuge? “You’re not telling the whole truth.”

“So you at least believe part of it.” Her lips pursed and she nodded her head. “I guess that’s something.”

Those lips were pure temptation. “It’s the other part that I’m concerned about.”

She pulled free and shrugged.

He told himself that he stepped closer to force her attention on him, not because he wanted to inhale the fresh scent of her. “Tell me why you checked up on me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” She frowned at him. “So is that it? Are you done with me now?”

He had the feeling he’d never be done with her, and he wasn’t sure if that was a great or terrible thing. “I’m done. For now.”

Without a word, she turned and walked back toward the house. He stayed close behind, and based on the stiff set of her back, she was very aware of it.

Willow stopped next to his grandmother. “Thank you for the talk. I’m going to take a shower now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,
mijita.
” Lita sat back on her heels. “Take your time.”

The corner of Willow’s mouth quirked. “So you have enough time to discuss me?”

God, he wanted to kiss those lips. He vaguely registered that his grandmother said something in reply, but he didn’t miss a moment of Willow sauntering up the stairs. He wanted to follow her. He wanted to turn her around and take her in his arms, to slowly strip his clothes off her, tuck her in bed, and make love to her. He could so clearly picture her tanned skin against his white bedding, and just the thought of the erotic contrast was driving him to distraction.

“You’re drooling,
hijo.
”

He waited to face his grandmother until Willow had walked inside and closed the door. “You’re taking this well. It wasn’t long ago that you would have lectured me for bringing home a woman I didn’t know.”

“You know Willow,” she said without hesitation. “And she isn’t just any woman. You and the white witch are fated for each other.”

He knew better than to say anything.

Lita shook a trowel at him. “I can feel your skepticism. Silence doesn’t mask it.”

“I respect your beliefs, Lita, but you can’t ask me to subscribe to something that I don’t feel.”

“You feel it. Otherwise, you would never have offered her sanctuary.” His grandmother’s eyes reflected ages of wisdom. “You would never risk your career for her, otherwise.”

He looked up at his bedroom window.

“She’s been trusted to you,
hijo,
” his grandmother said softly. “It’s a great gift. One you’re worthy of.”

“It’s not a question of being worthy,” he said, standing up.

His grandmother’s only reply was to look at him suspiciously.

She had no idea what he was up against. It wasn’t as if he could tell her he was harboring a wanted murderer. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and walked up to his home.

Ramirez could hear the shower running. Not allowing himself to stop to think, he quickly went upstairs to his room, stripping out of his shirt and boxers before entering the bathroom.

It was cloudy with steam. Through the glass shower door, he could see her form. A side view of her curves and her head bent back, arms raised to rinse soap from her hair.

He opened the door and stepped in.

Her eyes snapped open. Her gaze went up and down his body, stopping to watch his dick reawaken, which only turned him on more.

“Lean your head back again,” he said.

He thought she’d argue, but she didn’t put up a fight, because she wanted him as much as he wanted her, he hoped. Stepping forward until he was as close to her as he could be, he reached up and began to work the fresh water through her long hair. She melted against him with a sigh, letting her head fall back even more.

He tried not to think about how perfect she was for him—how his dick was aligned to enter her with minimal
effort. How her nipples stabbed his chest. The feel of her fingers biting into his biceps. He concentrated on rinsing the rest of the shampoo from her hair, massaging her scalp and neck in the process.

She hummed. “You’re good at this. Ever thought of becoming a hairdresser?”

“Stylist,” he corrected.

She opened one eye and looked at him with amusement.

He took the bottle of soap off the shelf. “That’s what my barber tells me these days, so he can charge me more money, I think.”

She watched him squeeze some soap onto his palm, her lips tipped with a smile. “He sounds like a marketing genius.”

Ramirez grunted. Lathering the soap between his hands, he shifted them so she was away from the spray of the showerhead. He put his hands on either side of her neck and rubbed circles into her muscles.

“What did I do to rate the deluxe service?” She sighed as her body went limp, but she watched for his answer. “Assuming you don’t treat everyone under the suspicion of murder this way.”

“Not hardly.” He massaged her shoulders, working his way down each arm. “You know we’re going to have to discuss that.”

She studied him. She must have seen what she was looking for, because she finally nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Something inside him relaxed. He nodded. “But not right now. Right now, I’m busy.”

A smile touched the corner of her mouth. “Too busy for me?”

He loved that small show of amusement. It felt real, like her true self was breaking through the thick facade she’d built around herself. He kissed her mouth, flicking her lips with his tongue to taste how it felt. “Too busy
with
you,” he corrected.

“In that case.” She leaned back against the shower stall, offering herself to him with open arms. “You better get on with it.”

No arguments from him. He lifted her arms and held them high over her head. “Don’t move.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight him.
Good,
he thought as he ran his hands down the insides of her arms, stopping to press inside her underarms with his thumbs. She squirmed for a moment before holding herself still.

“Ticklish?”

“Of course not.”

He stopped. “You’re lying.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Your eyes tell me. They go flat when you lie,” he pointed out.

Rolling those beautiful eyes, she said, “Sure they do. Next you’ll tell me they darken, too.”

“Only when you’re coming.” He slid his hands down her chest, pausing once to knead her breasts before wrapping his arms around her and washing her back. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, a short staccato rhythm that showed him just how excited she was. “Want to test my theory?”

She rubbed her pelvis against his erection, which didn’t mind the attention. “I think you’re the one who wants to test things out.”

Reaching for more soap, he continued lathering her back, all the way down to her ass. He slipped his fingers in its crease, liking the gasp he got in response. He let his fingers caress down into her folds, and her mouth parted, along with her legs—an invitation he wasn’t ready to take. He withdrew his fingers from her sex and massaged the firm globes of her rear. Then he got to his knees and started working his way up from her feet.

After a moment, she said, “I like you kneeling before me.”

He glanced up at her. “Makes you feel in charge, huh?”

“Aren’t I?”

She was, because right now he would do anything for her—the scariest thought he’d had in his life. Scarier than facing a strung-out perp with a gun.

He bit her above her ankle; then he rotated her foot. Right above her anklebone was the small image of a sword, one of those curved Chinese swords he’d seen in magazines. “What’s this? A tattoo?”

She shook her head. “A birthmark.”

“A birthmark.” He looked at it closer, rubbing his thumb over it. He felt a shock, which he would have dismissed if he hadn’t heard Willow’s gasp. He looked to find her eyes wide with fear. He surprised himself by asking, “It’s not just a birthmark, is it?”

She hesitated, but then said, “It is, but it represents more.”

He touched it again, feeling another shock of electricity. “You’ll tell me about it later.”

She frowned.

Satisfied that she didn’t argue, he kissed over the spot and continued up her legs. When he reached her thighs, he got to his knees, positioning himself so his mouth was level with her sex. His fingers worked the inside of her legs until he couldn’t wait any longer. He moved his hand up so his thumbs ran over the bare skin there. “I like this.”

Her chest heaved with each short breath she took. When she spoke, her voice was huskier than usual. “Glad to know it meets your approval.”

“More than approval.” He worked the soap across the surface, rinsed her, and then dipped his fingers in.

She moaned, her head falling back to rest on the tile behind her.

He lifted her leg to his shoulder for better access. He’d intended to take his time, but the sight, along with her moans, was too much to handle. He set her foot down and stood. He soaped his own body in record time, rinsed himself, and then turned the spray onto her.

She shrieked when the water hit her. “It’s cold!”

“It has been for a while.”

“I’m freezing.” She glared at him.

“I’ll warm you up.” He turned off the water. She opened her mouth, and he kissed her to stop any arguments. He picked her up so her legs straddled his hips and carried her to his bed, easing inside her as he laid her against the plump pillows. They lay there, motionless, both of them panting. Then she said, “My hair is soaking the sheets.”

He kissed her lovely neck. “I’m not sure that’s a punishable offense.”

“Damn,” she said in her facetious tone.

Biting her softly at the top rise of her breasts, he arched into her. “Careful, or I’ll get the cuffs out.”

“Promises, promises.”

Her arms were wrapped around him, actively holding him, and he liked that. A lot.

In fact, he liked it a little too much.