The Gift of Love (16 page)

Her satisfaction from her successful week must have bubbled over on the phone Friday evening when her brother Javier called to check in with her. Because the second thing he said, after “How you doing?” was “What’s making you so happy? You find some guy or something?” Then he laughed.

Which infuriated her. It was bad enough one of her brothers called every week to check up on her. To assume only being with a guy would make her happy then to laugh at the idea she might be was too much.

“Remind me again why you’re my favorite brother?” she said.

“Oh, come on, Bella. I’m joking.” He paused for a moment. “Or maybe I shouldn’t make a joke about something serious. Is there someone?”

“Why would it take a guy to make me happy? Why wouldn’t I be happy because, oh, I don’t know, maybe because my job’s going well and I’m loving Seattle? How about
that
for a reason to be happy?”

“Jesus, okay. I didn’t mean to make you go ballistic. So, the job’s going well?”

Now he was trying to calm her down. If he’d been sitting next to her, he would have stroked her arm. “Yes, it’s going great. We finally got the rezoning done, and the renovations are underway. I’m putting together a marketing brochure after I interview our clients from the area for testimonials. And I’ve lined up a pool of counselors, attorneys, and writers to use when the office opens in a few months. In fact, it should open in time for my birthday. Which, I might add, will be much better this year than the last one was.”

There was silence at Javier’s end of the call. “Are you still there?” she asked.

“Yup. I was waiting to make sure you were finished telling me how wonderful you are before I said anything.”

“Oh, crap, Javier. You are so full of it.”

“But I can always make you laugh, can’t I?”

“Yes, you can.” Now it was her turn to be quiet for a moment.

“I’m sensing there’s more to this story.”

She sighed. “Yes, there is. Actually, I have met someone. He’s a partner with MBA Consulting, the firm we’ve hired to develop a marketing plan for us. He’s been showing me around Seattle a little.”

“I knew it. The sound of your voice practically reeked sex. What do you know about him? When did you plan to tell us about him? Where’s he from? We have to meet him.”

“Hold it. No sex. Not in my voice. Not in my life. He’s a nice guy, from Seattle.”

“Surely you know more than that about him. You can’t be that naive.”

Trying to deflect her brother’s interest, she said, “I know Marius Hernandez likes him.” At least, if Marius was willing to set her up with him, she assumed he liked Taylor.

“That’s something, I guess. Maybe I’ll call Marius and see what he has to say about this guy. What’s his name?”

“Don’t you dare call Marius.”

“Okay, I’ll come see you instead and make you introduce us.”

“You come here, and I’ll tell Sandra Daniels you’re on your way and arrange for her to be here to greet you.”

“That was over ... Wait. How’d you know about Sandra and me? What did she say?”

“
She
didn’t say anything. But you just did.” She couldn’t help the smug tone to her voice. “Here’s the deal, brother mine: You stay out of my life, and I won’t interfere in yours.”

“I don’t have much choice since I have too much going on here to make good on my threat to come to Seattle anyway. And I’m not trying to interfere. We all worry about you. You’re on your own for the first time in your life, and we know nothing about what you’re up to. Not to mention not knowing who you’re going out with. Maybe this guy’s all wrong for you.”

“I don’t think so, but whether he is or isn’t, I’ll figure it out for myself. Look, Javier, I’ve got a job I love, and I’m doing it well. I’m living in a place I love. And I’m dating a nice guy. This is what you all told me you wanted, isn’t it? So what’s the problem?”

Silence again, then it was his turn to sigh. “Yeah, that’s what we said. The problem is, I’m not sure until now I understood what it really meant.”

Bella spent most of Saturday prepping for the dinner she was making for Taylor that evening. Her apartment needed serious attention before she was comfortable having anyone see the mess she’d created while she focused on work over the past few weeks. Well, work and weekends consisting of one day of fun with Taylor and another day of mooning over him like a teenager. No mooning today. Only getting things in order.

He was so tidy and neat, she wanted her place to at least appear on the surface to come up to his standard. So the morning was spent clearing away clutter then dusting, vacuuming, or scrubbing whatever she found underneath. She put clean towels out in the bathroom and, on an impulse, changed the sheets on her bed. She had no idea if they’d end the evening there—although if she had her way, they would—but she wanted to be prepared.

When she was satisfied she had it all tidied up, she hit the grocery store. She planned a completely Cuban meal, everything from the Cuba Libres she’d serve if he wanted something to drink before dinner other than wine, to the
ropa vieja
over rice and her mother’s standby salad with avocados. She’d end the meal with flan. All were family favorites, and it made her happy to be making them for someone she thought would appreciate them.

Once back at her apartment, she prepped the meal and set the table. Then she took a long, hot, bubble bath to relax her. It had been so long since she entertained a date where she lived, she was a bit nervous. In the two or so years she’d lived with her parents in Portland, it wouldn’t have been possible, even if she’d met someone, to invite him back to the house. In L.A., she’d shared an apartment with two college friends, making the logistics of arranging to have the space to herself complicated. Besides, most of the men she’d had over for drinks then had been more friends than potential lovers. The last time she’d had a serious boyfriend had been in college, and cooking for him meant trying to find a clean pot, dish, and fork in the old house he shared with three other guys who were as messy as he was.

This evening felt like something momentous was happening. And it made her both excited and a bit apprehensive. Not scared exactly. But certainly not sure how it would all play out.

She selected what she would wear with as much care and attention as she had paid to selecting the beef for the main dish and the avocados for the salad. Business dress wasn’t appropriate, but she didn’t want to be ripped-jeans-and-T-shirt casual either. She hadn’t realized how lacking her wardrobe was in date-night clothes until she started looking in her closet after her shower when it was too late to run to Nordie’s. She’d have to do with what was there. After trying on a half dozen possibilities, she settled on a black and white striped sweater with white skinny jeans and her black boots. With a chunky silver necklace and some small silver hoops, she thought it worked.

A half hour before Taylor was due to arrive, she looked around the apartment and was pleased with what she saw, heard, and smelled. The simmering beef filled the apartment with a delicious, spicy aroma. The place was neater than it had been in weeks and the candles on the low table in front of her couch and on the dining table would lend a romantic glow when they were lit. Playing softly in the background was her favorite music, the Buena Vista Social Club. All she needed was the man, and the evening could begin.

• • •

As he shaved, Taylor went back and forth about what to take with him to dinner at Isabella’s. Even though the zoning issue had been resolved, his guilt at causing the problem for Break Up or Make Up was still nagging at him. Which led him to consider things like adding candy or a stuffed animal to the flowers and wine he’d already purchased to try to make up for what he’d done. But, of course, Isabella didn’t know what he’d done, did she? He’d have to tell her first, before explaining why he arrived laden with gifts. And he knew damn well that wasn’t the way he wanted to start off the evening.

Then there were the condoms staring at him from the counter beside the sink. He’d bought a box while he was out scooping up romantic presents. Now, he wasn’t so sure he should take them. If he left them at home, he wouldn’t be tempted to take Isabella to bed. If he took them, it would mean he had every intention of acting on the chemistry that was as obvious to her as it was to him.

But what was chemistry without trust? Didn’t she deserve someone more honest and trustworthy than he was? Everything between them so far had been great. But the secret he was hiding could undo it all.

And then there was the warm and loving family she came from. Didn’t she deserve to be with someone who had a similar background? Someone who would know how to treat a woman so secure in the affection of her family she beamed joy and happiness with any little thing that happened to her. God knows, he wasn’t that guy. He knew how to plan, to prepare for the worst, work for the best, but expect it might fail. As much as he wished he could steal some of her glow, he didn’t think it would rub off on him no matter how close he held her or for how long.

Rubbing against her. There it was again. All week long he’d thought about the implications of dinner at her apartment. Her tiny apartment where the bedroom was probably only feet away from the living room. Where even the couch would invite him to get horizontal with her, her arms and legs wrapped around him while he kissed her—everyplace.

Shake it off, Jordan. You are seriously off the rails with this woman. Get back to your plan. Don’t let her get you so turned around.
The reflection staring back at him from the mirror might have been nicely shaved, but the expression in his eyes said the pep talk hadn’t taken. He had to face it—all he wanted to do with his attraction to Isabella was to enjoy it, his plans be damned. Now, with her troubles with the city staff over, chemistry could gain an edge over guilt. If he’d let it.

The upshot of his conversation with himself was a few condoms found their way into his wallet as he got ready to leave for Isabella’s. He told himself taking them didn’t mean he had to use them. But he knew he had every intention of returning home with at least one of them flushed away.

• • •

In his eagerness to see her, he got to Isabella’s apartment ten minutes early. He debated waiting in his car until the appointed time, but he couldn’t. Luckily, she looked happy to see him when she answered his knock.

“I’m early. Do you mind?” he said. Then fully registering what he saw, he said, “You look beautiful.”

“Early is fine. Come in. And thank you for the compliment. I think I’m supposed to say ‘oh, these old things’ and pretend I merely threw something on. But it would be a lie. It took me forever to decide what to wear.”

He was unduly pleased she had spent some time deciding on her wardrobe for the evening. “I don’t know much about Cuban national dress, but I don’t think that’s what you’re wearing.”

She laughed. “No, nothing I own qualifies, but my necklace was made for me by a Cuban jewelry designer in Miami, if that counts.”

“It’s lovely.” He touched the largest of the silver circles on the necklace, felt the heat of her through her sweater, and heard her sudden intake of breath at his touch. He pulled his hand away quickly. “I, uh, brought some wine. And flowers.” He handed her his offerings. “I tried to find mariposa but ...”

“You knew that’s the national flower of Cuba?” she interrupted as she took the flowers from him. “I’m amazed.”

“No, I didn’t. But Mr. Google knew, and he’s always willing to share his information.” He followed her into the kitchen. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any in any florist shop I called.”

As water filled a clear glass vase, she cut off the bottoms of the stems of the bouquet of Gerbera daisies. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any in the west, come to think of it. Last time I saw a mariposa was in Miami.” She arranged the flowers neatly and set the vase on the counter. “Now, can I get you a drink? To follow the theme of the evening, I can make Cuba Libres or we can open the bottle of wine you brought.”

“Cuba Libres. That brings back memories. I haven’t had one since I was a teenager. My brother used to make them with the rum he stole from our parents. The Coke made the alcohol tolerable. Let’s have one of those and save the wine for dinner. I hope red works with what you’re serving.”

“It’s
ropa vieja
—old clothes.”

“Smells awfully good for something named after Goodwill donations.”

“It’s shredded beef, but it’s supposed to look like rags. The story goes, a poor man added old clothes to the meager meal he had for his children, and magically, it turned into beef. I think red works with either beef or rags, don’t you?” She opened a cabinet above the counter next to the sink and reached for glasses that were clearly too high for her to grab. “I guess I need a stool to get the glasses.”

He came up behind her. “Which ones do you want?” Her scent flooded his brain with all sorts of erotic messages—not particularly difficult to do given his internal dialogue while he shaved.

She leaned back a bit, her firm little butt brushing against him, and pointed at the top shelf. “Those, up there.” Her voice sounded tight, thick. She turned to look over her shoulder at him, and her breast brushed his arm. “Do you see which ones I mean?”

“Which ones, where?” He knew exactly what she wanted, but what
he
wanted was more contact between their bodies.

She responded by stretching a bit more and pulling his hand higher, both actions increasing the friction of her body against his. “There. The tall ones.”

He tried to think of some way to keep the conversation about glasses going so she wouldn’t move away from him but knew that if he kept pretending he couldn’t see the row of highball glasses on the top shelf, she’d wonder if he’d lost his mind.

“Got them.” He snagged two glasses and brought them down. But he didn’t move after he placed them on the counter. Instead he turned her around in the circle of his arms before touching her face with the palm of his hand. She leaned her cheek into his hand and sighed softly.

He couldn’t stop himself. With his free hand, he drew her against him and lowered his head so he could kiss her.