“Still messed up.”
“My turn.”
Her amusement dies and she juts out her jaw. “Hit me.”
“Favorite animal?”
“I’m a dog lover and miss owning one.” Sadness flashes in her eyes, but she looks away and finds whatever is above my head fascinating. “My Frenchie passed away six months ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, doll. My condolences—”
“And you? Favorite animal?”
“Wild? Jaguar. Domestic? Dog.” Seeing we’re no longer eating, I pick up our trash and clean up, storing the leftovers in her fridge. I’m thankful now to have bought two containers of the green papaya salad, not knowing it was her favorite. “I have a Doberman back home.”
“Are you bringing him to the States?” Once again, those seafoam eyes meet mine and my skin prickles with electricity—this almost dominating force that makes me take a step closer. And closer. I don’t stop until I’m around the counter and sitting beside her curvaceous form.
Knees touching. Arms brushing.
Why am I so intrigued by you?
“No. Chulo is staying with my mother in Colombia.” Her expression is soft and inviting, and all I want to do is kiss her. Taste her. “I’ll miss my little Parcerito, but she needs him more. He’s a great dog and very protective of her.”
“Chulo? That’s a weird name.” That teasing tone does nothing but excite me, but I don’t fall into her trap, choosing instead to just roll my eyes. Something out of character for me, but that’s what she’s doing—breaking my normal behaviors and replacing them with childishness. She’s trouble. “What does it mean?”
“That he’s the most handsome good boy out there.”
“Doesn’t sound very threatening or protective.”
“It’s meant to be that way. Always confuse your opponent. What they see is never what you are.”
“Hmmm,” is her response before jumping down from her perch, the stool a little high for her, and I find the action cute. Adorable even. Walking around to her Keurig, she opens the pod holder beside it and peruses the contents. Seconds turn to minutes. Our breathing and the sound of plastic pods jiggling against each other fills the space before she huffs and turns. Green eyes on mine, she purses her lips. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thank you.” This is my cue to leave. Mariah is a difficult woman, the few interactions we’ve had prove as much, but I know when to back off. When to strike. There’s something hidden behind those eyes—a little wariness she fights to conceal—but I see her. All of her, and plan to erase every doubt with my actions. “I’ll be heading out.”
If she’s surprised by my words, her expression doesn’t show it, but body language never lies. Tense muscles, hands clenching, and the tapping of her right foot. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s unaware of these actions, but I’m loving every single one.
Fight all she wants; I’ve gotten to her.
“Let me walk you out.”
“No need. I know the—”
“That wasn’t a request,” she grits out, chin jutted out. Gorgeously defiant.
“Of course.” Without waiting for her, I turn and head in the direction of the front door. And I’m almost there when she sighs, causing me to smile.
I stay silent, though. Waiting to see what she does or says.
“By the way…why a jaguar?” Mariah asks suddenly a few seconds later. Her curiosity makes me pause and look back, causing the little beauty to bump into my back. “I never asked you to stop walking.”
“You asked me a question.” Before she can step back, I turn and hold her close. Breathe her in. “I’m being thoughtful.”
“How so?” A small shiver runs through her as my fingers grip her hips and run soothing circles over the flesh there.
“By giving you my undivided attention.” Dipping my face down to hers, I lay a kiss on her cheek and then the other, loving the sudden rush of goose bumps and her stuttered breath. “And to answer your question, I love jaguars because they’re deadly yet regal. Dominant over their habitat while bowing to no other predator.” Another tiny peck, this time right on the tip of her nose and I turn, leaving her apartment before I bend her over the entry table and bury myself to the hilt.
This was a win.
The beginning of something that holds a wicked promise.
I’m going to wear you down, Muñeca.
7
“RIGHT THIS WAY, Mr. Bennett.” I step aside, and the three people I picked up this morning at the airport walk into the conference room on the executive floor. They’re an affluential family from California, a Silicon Valley genius with a penchant for walking a fine line between the ethical and immoral while spoiling Mrs. Bennett. He’s here with his wife and one guard, a man I’ve been watching from the moment they put a single foot inside the all-black SUV I drive.
His attention isn’t on security or asking me what has been done to assure his boss’s safety, but instead, on her. The wife. She’s unaware—face pinched tight in anger while holding her husband’s hand—but I saw, and by the clenching of her husband’s jaw, so did he.
What are they playing at?
“Thank you, Javier,” the wife answers, and the other two enter with nothing more than a nod in my direction. Not that I give a single fuck as the object of my frustration walks toward me with a stoic expression on her stunning face. The same expression was saved solely for me since our mini date in her apartment.
All five feet and three inches of perfection in her high-waisted black skirt, white cap-sleeved top, and red stilettos saunter in my direction with her hair down and the ends curled. With ruby lips and the sweet scent of flowers surrounding her—infiltrating my senses. Embedding itself into my DNA.
Mariah is teasing me. Avoiding me; a week of silence unless work-related and even then, the responses are minimal and to the point.
Her stubbornness doesn’t deter me, though. Not one bit.
I find her adorable.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” she says, looking past me and toward the table where our guests will sit. “Excuse me.” Before she can sweep by me, I grab her wrist and pull us back just outside the door and to the left where we are out of sight.
Mariah’s back meets the wall in a soft thud, and I stand a mere inch or two from her, soaking up her decadent scent and the heat radiating from her body. Our eyes lock and breaths mingle.
A shiver rushes through her and flows through me as I lean in, lips hovering, but before they touch, I lift my face and kiss her forehead. At the contact, a stuttered breath escapes and I smile against her soft skin.
“Ignore me all you want, Muñeca. It won’t change a thing.”
Ignore the pet name, Mariah. “Move.”
“One day you’ll beg me to stay.” With that, I push back and walk into the room. I take a seat beside Malcolm while she walks in a few seconds later, face flushed, and sits across from me with narrowed eyes.
Malcolm gives me a quick look, questioning if everything is okay, and I nod. He’s not asking about his cousin, but the other people in the room.