Under the Wire (3 page)

All evening, as he'd endured Gen. Poveda's "celebration" dinner, Manny had been waiting for his chance to be alone with her. When he saw her slip quietly outside of Poveda's grandiose and palatial house, Manny waited a few minutes, then followed her out to the secluded terrace.

As she had when he'd first set eyes on her, she took his breath away.

"Senorita." He approached her tentatively, afraid she might be startled when he walked up behind her. "It is a beautiful night, yes?"

Her head came up. She sniffed delicately and wiped the back of her hand over her cheek before glancing over her shoulder at him. "Beautiful," she agreed, and looked away.

Then she walked away. Not far. Only a few steps down the terrace railing where pink and white bougainvillea twined and clung. Still, it was far enough to let Manny know she did not welcome company.

The gesture was small deterrent for a man on a mission. Even before he had found her out here alone with the weight of tears glimmering on lashes as dark and thick as the heavy fall of black hair tumbling down her back, he'd recognized the sorrow and despair etched in her eyes. Eyes the color of a midnight sky and set in the most extraordinary face—a face that had mesmerized him through each of the five dinner courses.

Hers was an angel's face—porcelain skin, delicate brows, Cupid's-bow lips that had rarely tipped into a smile all evening. Even then those smiles had been forced. Yes, she had an angel's face. So appropriate, because Manny knew that she was an angel. An angel of mercy who was being honored tonight for her service with her American DWB medical team. Just as he was being honored by the Sandinista government for his bravery as a soldier.

The bitterness he felt over that dubious honor and the hatred he felt for Poveda and all he stood for were overshadowed in this moment by his concern for the beautiful American.

So he ignored her subtle attempt to get rid of him. He'd waited all night for a chance to get her alone. He was going to take full advantage. "It is too beautiful a night to spend alone and unhappy, would you agree?"

She was quiet for a time, then turned to face him with a look that relayed controlled patience. "You're very kind—"

"But," he preempted, knowing she was about to launch another dismissal, "you would much prefer it if I left you alone."

She tilted her head, studied him with more tolerance than interest, then reluctantly glanced at the emblem on his uniform. "Lieutenant, is it?"

He bowed, clicked his heels together in an exaggerated show of military elan. "At your disposal, Senorita Campora."

To the tilt of her head she added a slight narrowing of her eyes. "You know my name."

"I made it a point to, yes."

Her back stiffened marginally. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

"Oh no, senorita, it is I who am at a disadvantage. Your beauty has ... how do you say in English?" He frowned, then flashed his most guileless grin. "Ah ... it comes to me. Your beauty has left me without speech."

One corner of her beautiful mouth tipped up into an almost smile. She found him amusing—perhaps even ridiculous. That was fine. He would take her smiles however he could get them.

"Speechless?" She shook her head. "That's a hard sell, Lieutenant, considering you haven't stopped talking since you walked out here."

"This is true," he admitted, smiling with her. He lifted a hand, a show of agreement. "Maybe my words, they were not so right. My English sometimes ... is not so good." His English was fine, but pretending otherwise better suited his purpose tonight. "Maybe 'senseless' is the term I am searching for."

Another slow, soft smile had Manny's heart swelling—along with another body part that had been on the verge of response since he first saw her.

"Tell me," she continued, her interest piqued even though he could see that she was hesitant to allow herself this small curiosity. "How does one so young become such an accomplished flirt? And a lieutenant to boot."

"Flirt?" He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning innocence and shock, then negating both with a self-deprecating grin. "But no. I only meant to make you smile. Tears on such a beautiful woman ... no. It is not right. And I am not so young as you might think," he assured her with a slight bow. "Manolo Ortega. And I'm very pleased to finally meet you."

Again, she was tentative, but he knew he held her interest when she allowed herself another question. "Finally?"

"It has been an eternity since I first saw you at the far end of the table at dinner."

She shook her head with a "give me a break" roll of her expressive eyes. "Let's amend that to 'very accomplished flirt.'"

Manny took a chance and walked closer; he leaned an elbow on the concrete rail, plucked a flower from a bougainvillea vine, and grinned up at her. "You misinterpret my intentions."

"Do I?"

He touched the pink petals of the flower to her bare shoulder, let it trail slowly down her arm, then drop away when she stiffened. "It is just that you are so sad. And now, no matter how hard I try to make you happy, for some reason you don't feel you deserve to be. And that knowledge hurts my heart."

He offered her the flower.

Her eyes softened, misted over, before she accepted his gift. "Okay. So maybe you're not so young after all."

Her tears weren't the only giveaway. The quiet regret in her words also told him that he'd been right. She was desperately unhappy—which made him more resolved than ever to make her forget that pain.

And yes, he would make her forget, because about one thing she was correct. He was an accomplished flirt. He was also a very determined man.

"So, Lily, what should we do with you, do you think?"

She was still guarded, but she turned to face him again, leaning a slim hip against the terrace rail. "We?"

"But yes. In my experience," he said, intrigued by the play of moonlight over her ivory skin and by the lovely curve where her neck met her shoulder, "two make things so much better than one, alone. Especially on a night like this. For instance, have you even noticed the stars?"

She breathed in the flower, glanced guiltily at the sky, then back at him. "Actually ... no."

"Well then, you see? It was meant to be. What you do not appreciate by yourself, I can help you enjoy. Now you must look again. Up, up," he insisted when he was met with an impatient sigh. "I will point out what you have missed out here on your own."

If for no other reason than to placate him, she tipped her head back.

"Amazing, is it not?"

She gave a reluctant nod. "Yes. It's quite beautiful."

"Do you have skies like this in America, Lily? Ink black and glittering with brilliant prisms of light?"

"We do, yes," she said after a moment, then made an admission that seemed to surprise her. "But it's been a long time since I've taken time to stargaze."

"Too long, I am thinking."

She startled when he pushed away from the rail and moved in close behind her.

"Much too long. A woman as lovely as you should always have stars in her eyes.

"Look there," he said when he sensed she was about to put some distance between them. "Do you see the one directly above? The one that shines blue?"

When she appeared to be searching and not finding, he took her hand in his, lifted it skyward, and pointed due west. "Just there. Do you see it now?"

Her skin beneath his fingers was as petal soft as the flower. Summer warm. Her scent, this close, was fresh and clean and undeniably woman. And the tension that he sensed tighten her slight body made a transition from uncertainty to awareness. Awareness that he was only too pleased to awaken.

Yes, she was still resistant, but she was aware of his intentions to seduce her—he'd made no bones about that. Aware that she was more open to the idea of pleasure, just for herself, than she might have thought.

"I... I'm not certain."

Manny was. He was certain they were no longer talking about stars. What she was uncertain about was the sexual tension arcing between. A tension that had shifted to something profound the moment he'd touched her.

And he was certain that before this night was over, not only would the beautiful Lily smile for him, but she would also undress for him. Open her lovely legs for him, take pleasure from him in the most intimate way that a man could pleasure a woman, and she would forget all about her pain.

"There," he whispered, pressing his cheek to hers and with his hand at her throat tipping her head ever so slightly upward. "Just there ... do you see it now?"

Nuzzling her hair aside, he touched his lips to the pulse that jumped wildly at her throat. When she didn't resist, he slid one hand around her small waist, folded the hand that was holding hers in and against her body.

He held her that way for long moments. Letting her get used to the feel of him. To the idea of succumbing to the allure of the undeniable sexual spark arcing between them.

The notion of acting on such an attraction to a stranger was foreign to a woman like her. He understood that. Just like he understood the moment she decided to surrender.

Her head fell back against his shoulder. A shuddering breath eddied out; beneath the modest neckline of her black dress her generous breasts rose and fell; the tight little beads of her nipples pressing against raw silk spoke of her arousal.

And yet she resisted. "I... I should go back... inside."

Poor Lily. It seemed she was programmed to resist, yet he took heart when she didn't move away from him.

In a voice as soft as the night breeze, he challenged her. "Do you always do what you should do? Have you ever, even once, considered doing something that only makes you happy?"

She didn't answer. But her body, heated now and trembling, told him everything he needed to know.

"What will make you happy, Lily?" he whispered against her ear. "Because that is all I want for you. You are a woman, I think, who deserves to be happy. And yet, you are so sad."

The breath she emitted was more need than denial, a heartbreaking sound that moved him deeply. With the slowest of caresses, he slid his hand from her waist to her belly, drew her back against his hips so she could feel the length and thickness of his erection pressing against her.

"I could make you think of nothing but me."

She pushed out a strained laugh and shivered in his arms. "Do I honestly look like a woman who would allow a stranger to seduce me?"

Ah. One last attempt to fight it.

"But no." He nuzzled along her neck and fed that little fire he wanted to stoke to an inferno. "And that is why you are so special. And why you look like a woman who needs to be seduced."

She trembled when he kissed her jaw, let her head fall to the side, and allowed him to explore her throat with his mouth.

"I... this ... my God." Her breath caught when he rocked his hips against hers. "What am I doing?"

"You are doing what comes natural, yes? You are responding like a woman. You are thinking of us." He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper. "Together. With my mouth here." He filled his palm with the generous weight of one breast.

"And here." Relentless, he slid his other hand with slow, hot friction down her belly to brush his fingers across her mound. "Just think of my mouth here, Lily."

She groaned and covered his hand with hers— initially, he thought she meant to push it away. Instead, she pressed him closer. He went rock hard.