The Dance

THE DANCE

Jami Davenport

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ABOUT THE E-BOOK VERSION: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. THE DANCE Copyright © 2008 by Jami Davenport E-book ISBN: 1-60601-087-5 First E-book Publication: July 2008 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2008 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

DEDICATION To Francesca. We're going places, girlfriend! To all my friends at TSARM: You made me believe in myself and my writing. Without your encouragement, I never would have pursued publishing. To the Orca whales living in the San Juan Islands, who are truly part of the magic of that place.

AUTHOR’S NOTE I am one of the fortunate few who have had the whales come to me while boating in the Straits of Juan De Fuca. My characters also enjoyed such an experience, but that does not mean that I condone disrupting these magnificent creatures in their natural habitat. Washington State law requires that boaters maintain a reasonable distance from the Orca whales and to disengage their transmission when in their presence. I wholeheartedly support Washington State's and San Juan County's efforts to protect the whales. To learn more about our resident Orcas, I encourage those visiting the San Juan Islands to visit the Whale Museum in Friday Harbor.

THE DANCE Jami Davenport Copyright © 2008

Chapter 1 The Fall Okay, who turned out the lights? Was she dead? Did they have mud in heaven? Sticky, gooey, cold mud? Certainly heaven’s mud wouldn't smell like rank fertilizer and stale water. A distant voice penetrated her muddled brain. Mariah Baker wiggled her toes and fingers to test each one. Lifting her head, she scraped the mud from her face with her gloved hand. Her blurry eyes focused on two large cowboy boots about a foot away. Angels didn't have big feet and wear scuffed cowboy boots. “Are you okay?” A deep, sexy voice vibrated with concern. She tried to raise her head higher. A large hand to match those big feet entered her field of vision. “What happened...?” “You fell off your horse.” Oh, yeah, she remembered now. An invisible horse-eating troll lurking in the nearby woods scared her ditz-brained gelding. He’d bucked and sent her flying like a rag doll, ending with an ungraceful face plant. At least it was a soft landing, as last night’s rain had transformed the footing in her riding arena into a mud bog. “Are you all right?” The man sounded rattled. “Mmmm.” “Don’t move. You might have broken something.”

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“Nothing’s broken. I just had...the wind knocked out of me.” She choked and spit out a mouthful of mud. The owner of the cowboy boots squatted next to her. Long legs, strong thighs, narrow hips, broad chest. Definitely heaven. With a groan, Mariah pushed herself to a kneeling position and came face-to-face with Adonis. Well, at least he could have doubled for a Greek god. His appearance tickled her memory, yet she was certain she’d never met him. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and stared. And stared. And stared. Heaven wouldn’t have temptations like him. He’d turn any good girl into a very bad girl. A day’s growth of beard darkened his handsome face. His unruly brown hair begged for attention from a decent stylist. He wore clothes most garage sales wouldn’t bother to sell. His threadbare jeans had never seen a designer label. Yet his disheveled appearance didn’t come close to concealing his model good looks. Suffice it to say, the man fit every clichéd description of a hero in a romance novel, despite his scruffiness. Too bad she'd sworn off men as of last night. So what if he was kissyour-heart-goodbye gorgeous? Unfortunately, her heart wasn’t listening. Instead, it told her brain to get lost and snuggled up next to Mr. Scruffy, at least in its dreams. He might appear scruffy, but he smelled wonderful in a clean, masculine sorta way. His scent actually permeated the smell of rancid mud that clung to her body. Without thinking, she leaned closer to get a better whiff of his expensive aftershave. A dedicated shopper, Mariah knew expensive when she saw it or smelled it. She’d also bet a winning lotto ticket he wore a Rolex watch and Gucci sunglasses. Raising her gaze back to his face, she found him staring at her. He removed his sunglasses and shifted his gaze from her lips to her eyes. The man had the most incredible brown eyes, as yummy as a chocolate mocha espresso fringed with long, black eyelashes. Now why did guys always have eyelashes like that when they never appreciated them? Those mocha eyes sucked her in like dust bunnies sucked into a vacuum cleaner. She felt light-headed. And hot. Really hot. Taking a deep breath,

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Mariah gathered her composure—and her dust bunnies—about her like a suit of armor. Relax, girl, relax. This guy radiated sexual energy like the sun radiated heat. She’d just been gobbled up by his magnetic sensuality. He was dangerous, and she didn’t need a guy like that to complicate her life. Get rid of him, the sooner the better, her boring good girl side warned her. “I’m Ric...” He hesitated. “I’m Rodrigo Perez.” He studied her with interest, as if waiting for a reaction. “I’m staying at the Delgado’s vacation house for a month. That’d make me your neighbor.” He held out his hand to her. She stared at it, while her mind stalled somewhere between fantasy and reality. He cleared his throat to get her attention. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. He grinned with amusement. His hand still hovered in midair. Mechanically, she removed a mud-encrusted glove and offered her hand to him. His long fingers surrounded her smaller hand with a firm but gentle hold. His thumb traced a sensuous circle on her palm. He lifted her fingers to his lips. His warm mouth grazed her trembling knuckles, lingering on each one. All the while, his dark eyes never left hers. Mariah fell for his technique, hook, line, and sinker; stupid, gullible woman that she was. A five-alarm siren clanged in her head, and she jerked her hand away. The sudden movement dislodged a mud clump from her riding helmet, and it plopped onto her nose. The irritating man raised one dark eyebrow. His mouth twitched in a suppressed smile as he dabbed the mud with his thumb. It was a good thing she was still kneeling or she’d have crumpled to the ground in a heap of female hormonal mush. He dabbed the mud with his thumb. It was a good thing she was still kneeling or she’d have crumpled to the ground in a heap of female hormonal mush. “And you are?” “I’m Mariah,” she croaked, feeling like an idiot. “Well, Mariah, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Thanks.” Rodrigo straightened to his full height, leaving Mariah to stare at his belt buckle, tight jeans, and... Oh, my. “Can you stand?” He didn’t wait for an answer but bent down to help her. Avoiding his touch, Mariah scrambled to her feet. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Concern gentled his brown eyes.

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“I am. Really. I’ve fallen off many times. It’s nothing. Something in the woods scared my horse.” “Can’t imagine what that would be.” He shrugged and looked away, shifting his weight from one cowboy boot to another. Sueño, her gray gelding and the guilty party, wandered over and stuck his head between them. Mariah picked up his reins. “Where did you...? I mean, how did you...?” Her brain couldn’t seem to form words. His amused grin didn’t help. “I was walking along the road and saw you launched into the air like a human catapult. I ran over to check on you.” “Thank you for helping me.” She wiped her face with the bottom of her T-shirt. She must look a fright. And she considered him scruffy? “I’m just glad to see you’re okay.” A slight accent blended with the rich timbre of his voice. A handsome man with an accent made for an even more deadly combination. Attempting to be inconspicuous, she rubbed her clammy hands on her thighs. Her horse stirred beside her, and she glanced at him. The big busybody hadn’t missed a thing. One furry ear swiveled to catch each tidbit of conversation. His eyes followed their every move with interest. Mariah glared at Sueño. Maybe you’d like some popcorn and a beer while you watch me squirm? Whose side are you on? After all, who feeds you? Help me out here, will you? Sueño shook his long forelock over his eyes and ignored her. Knowing she was on her own, she searched for something clever to say. She turned into a blabbering idiot around most men. She doubted the Prince of Grunge would be an exception. “You’re staying at Max and Carmen’s house? It’s...it’s really nice. I’ve been in it. I did some work for them about six months ago. Carmen wanted the rooms redone in a country style, something relaxed. I looked all over Seattle for just the right...” Now, she was blabbering, but what woman on earth would blame her? “Yeah, it’s a great place. I’m enjoying it. Very private and peaceful,” he agreed smoothly. Did the man ever sweat or get nervous? Mariah considered it a good thing he had tacky clothes, or he’d be too perfect. Pulling herself together once again, she put on her polite cocktail-party voice and inquired, “Where are you from, Rodrigo?” His accent intrigued

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her, and much to her surprise, she imagined him whispering Spanish to her in the middle of the night. “I spent the first eight years of my life in Puerto Rico. Now I live in LA. I’m here on Orcas Island for a vacation.” He paused to look around him. “Do you have any idea what a view like this would cost in Southern California?” “I can’t begin to imagine.” Mariah glanced around, but her mind barely registered the spectacular scenery. The horse arena sat on a bluff overlooking a small cove. In the distance, the San Juan Islands glittered like jewels on the water. A green and white Washington state ferry wound its way through the myriad of passages bound for the Orcas ferry landing. To the north, the boats in Deer Harbor floated lazily in the morning sun. Even in her most tumultuous times, this place had brought her peace. Unfortunately, the taxes and expenses on the place were driving her out. That stack of bills on her desk increased exponentially in comparison to her meager income. Rodrigo coughed and brought her attention back to him. He wrung his hands together. “I have to confess. I’ve been watching you ride for a few days.” “You’ve been watching me ride?” Oh, great, her neighbor was a stalker. Even as she considered it, she didn’t believe it. He appeared to be a professional heartbreaker, not a stalker. She’d almost married a man like him once so she recognized the type. Besides, tourists from the nearby resort stopped on the road occasionally and watched her ride. “Uh, yeah.” Rodrigo pushed his hair off his forehead and looked down at his feet. He seemed worried about how she’d interpret his confession. “I was walking by earlier this week, and I saw you through the trees. I’ve never seen anyone ride a horse like that. It’s pretty amazing.” Mariah glanced up at him. A shock wave zipped through her system. She stepped away and added more space between them. “Thank you. I’m...I’m surprised you found my riding interesting. Most people would rather watch concrete dry.” He raised one eyebrow. “What do you call this type of riding you do?” “Dressage, a very old equestrian sport. Actually, it’s more of an art form than a sport when it’s done correctly.”

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“How do you steer him? With your thoughts?” “No, not really. I use subtle signals from my leg and shift my weight in the saddle, but there are times when it seems as if he’s reading my mind. When we’re in sync like that, it’s the most incredible feeling. It’s like we leave this planet, as if we’re in a different plane of existence. It’s hard to explain. Time slows, has no meaning. It’s almost...holy. Athletes have a term for it. They call it being in the zone. Sueño and I seem to find that zone together more than any horse I’ve ridden.” Mariah stopped. She'd told him way too much. To his credit, his eyes didn’t glaze over from sheer boredom. “How long does it take to learn to ride like that?” “It takes years. This horse is my baby. I raised and trained him myself.” Mariah patted her gelding’s coat. “You’ve done a great job, but it’s more than training, even I can see that.” She looked away for a moment then met his eyes, feeling a little jolt right down to her toes. “Yes. Yes, it is,” she admitted in a soft whisper. She didn’t speak of her connection with this horse to just anyone. Non-riders didn’t understand. In fact, most riders didn’t understand it either. Rodrigo reached up to pet the horse. Sueño lowered his head so the man could scratch a preferred spot behind his ears. “He likes you,” she noticed with surprise. “He’s very picky about his people. I can’t believe he’s letting you pet him. He's very perceptive about people. I should listen to him more....” “Si, you should. I love animals.” Rodrigo interrupted, stroking Sueño’s neck. Her horse gave him a hard push with his nose. “Feel free to smack him when he does that. It’s rude.” “Why does he do it?” “He wants a carrot.” “A carrot? Sorry, big guy, I don’t happen to have one on me.” Rodrigo held his hands out, palms up. Sueño sniffed at each hand. “He doesn’t deserve a carrot when he behaves like that.” Expressing his opinion against the no carrot rule, Sueño gave her a hard push and knocked her off balance. Rodrigo came to her rescue again and caught her before she fell, holding her a little too close. Her body betrayed her, and her heart and mind followed. Throwing her good-girl reputation to the wind, she fastened to him like Velcro. His warmth soaked into her pores.

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That hard, muscled chest pressed against her soft contours. She inhaled the scent of his aftershave and filled her lungs with his essence. Heaven could never feel this good. Sueño snorted again and tugged on the reins, yanking her back to Pacific Daylight Time. Leaping backwards, she extracted herself from Rodrigo’s arms. Keeping a safe distance from the two males, she studied them warily. Rodrigo didn’t seem to notice or care that his white T-shirt now sported several muddy spots. “You know, you shouldn’t let him get away with that.” Humor glinted in his dark eyes. “He’s being rude.” “Thanks. I’ll remember that.” She didn’t trust her voice enough to say another word. She’d just clung to a strange man like he was a Titanic lifeboat and enjoyed every delightful second of it. **** Wiping his now muddy hands on his jeans, Rico Sanchez, aka Rodrigo Perez, took a second to gather his composure. That close encounter with Mariah flustered him more than he wanted to admit. The feel of her body against his went beyond mere physical attraction and approached the dangerous. He shoved his hands in his pockets and adopted a casual pose. Under that mud was one classy woman. He didn't want to scare her off by acting like an uncivilized ass. Unfortunately, he’d already earned the title of ass. For starters, he’d been skulking in the woods watching her ride and freaked out her horse. He had no idea horses were such flaky animals. While scaring the horse had been an accident, lying about his name had been deliberate. He wasn't sure what had prompted him to do that. She might not even recognize the name if she'd heard it. It'd been so long since he'd been in the news. He was here to find the person he'd lost, the real person under the public image. He needed to be around people who didn't have any preconceived notions about him. Since his popularity had gone down the tubes, the only women interested in him were gold diggers and publicity seekers. The Gold Diggers had no clue that his money had followed his popularity into the

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toilet. A little white lie about his identity in exchange for a month of anonymity wasn't too much to ask. The horse snorted and pawed the ground, demanding her attention. Rico looked at the animal. It blinked its big brown eyes at him. Perhaps he had an ally in that furry, four-legged beast. “What’s his name?” After all, a guy should know the names of his allies. “Sueño. Sueño Araña.” Removing her riding helmet, she plucked a clump of mud and grass from her long mahogany hair. “Dream Weaver,” Rico mused. “Is he your dream weaver?” “I guess you could say that.” Mariah chewed on her lower lip. “I really need to clean up and finish my ride, Rodrigo, but it was nice meeting you.” “Nice meeting you.” She hesitated then leading Sueño, she turned away and walked through the gate toward the small red barn. Rico watched her go. He knew a dismissal when he heard it, but that had never deterred him before. He didn’t give up that easily on a woman who intrigued him. Reluctant to let her leave, he hurried after her. She glanced at him but kept walking. “Do you need something else?” “Uh, yes. What’s the best restaurant around here?” “Rosario Resort has good food. It’s not cheap, but the view of the bay is worth the price. They have a piano bar and dancing, too.” “Sounds romantic.” She blushed and looked away, increasing her pace. Damn, he almost had to run to keep up. Now there was a unique situation: Rico Sanchez running after a woman. Well, a damaged ego was worth a reprieve from the loneliness. Talking to her made him forget how empty he felt inside. He checked out her left hand and didn’t find a ring. He made it a practice not to mess with another man’s woman. He did have his scruples. They entered the barn, and Mariah tied Sueño to a post. The wide aisle was neat and tidy with a couple stalls on both sides. Rico watched as she used a wet paper towel to clean her face. Even in her messed-up state, she enchanted him. Right then, he knew what he wanted to do. A little romance never hurt anyone, and he could use an attractive distraction like her. “What time can I pick you up?” He grinned. With an expertise born of practice, he disguised his insecurities behind a wall of cocky confidence.

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“I don’t even know you.” Her green eyes took on a stubborn glint. Rico focused the full heat of his gaze on her. “Have dinner with me tonight, and we can work on that.” He flashed his most disarming grin, guaranteed to charm the resistance out of any woman. In his younger years, he’d mastered hustling a woman to the point of perfection then to the point of boredom. He suspected hustling this woman would prove to be anything but boring, especially as out of practice as he was. His gaze roamed over her killer body. The skin-tight riding breeches and soiled tank top did little to hide her delectable curves. In fact, the mud stuck to all the right places. He smiled in true appreciation as he brought his eyes back to hers. Her cheeks turned redder than a stop sign when she caught him staring. “So, what time?” “I can’t, I have plans tonight.” “Change them please.” He smiled and turned on the Latin charm, attempting to disarm her reluctance. Her emotions played across her face, making her as easy to read as a theater marquee. He’d never considered innocence to be sexy before, but it sure as hell was on her. “Sorry.” “You break my heart.” He put his hands to his chest. “I doubt that. It was nice meeting you, Rodrigo. Now I must get back to work.” She turned her back on him. Rico opened his mouth to protest then snapped it shut. He loved challenges, and her refusal only encouraged him. He shrugged and walked away. The possible scenarios played through his mind like an old, erotic movie reel. **** Mariah waited several minutes then snuck from the tack room. She peered out the barn door and down the road. Rodrigo had taken the hint and left. Something caught her eye in the aisle. His sunglasses. Picking them up, she studied them. Gucci. They probably cost more than she made in a week. Putting the sunglasses on the shelf, she decided to finish her ride before she took a shower. A little mud wouldn’t kill her. She led Sueño back to her

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riding arena, irritated at the man's presumptuous attitude and at the fact that she'd have to see him again to return his sunglasses. “Who does that guy think he is, Sueño? I can’t believe he waltzed in here like he owned the place and assumed I’d go to dinner with him. The jerk.” The gorgeous, presumptuous jerk. With resignation, Sueño accepted his role once again as her four-legged confidant. He sighed one of his long-suffering sighs and stood quietly. He let her carry on, taking it like a man, well, actually, like a gelding. “The nerve of him. Good looks don’t give a guy a license to have anything he wants. Besides,” Mariah huffed, “did you see his clothes?” She stopped and looked down at her muddy shirt then started giggling. The anger drained out of her like someone pulled the plug. “I’m sorry, you put up with a lot from me, don’t you? Here I am, ranting about some fashion-challenged Latin with hypnotic eyes who wanders down my driveway. Earlier I was carrying on about the lousy blind date I had last night. I should stick with horses. They’re safe, honest, and loyal.” Sueño watched a butterfly flit past his nose and yawned. He nudged her to move her along. “It’s time to get down to business, huh? I guess you’ve heard enough of my babbling for now.” Taking in the beautiful morning, Mariah couldn’t help smiling. She'd never regretted her decision to leave Seattle for the peace and quiet of the San Juans. The morning sun peeked through the trees and reflected off the water in the cove. Strips of sunshine formed bright patterns of light on the ground. She savored the warmth soaking into her bones. As a true Pacific Northwesterner, she appreciated sunny days even more than she appreciated gourmet coffee or I-5 without traffic. Mariah gathered her reins in one hand and swung herself into the saddle. Sueño stood motionless until the slightest squeeze of her legs told him to move forward. She walked him around the arena a few times, giving him time to warm up his muscles. To a casual observer, the gray gelding plodded along like an old plow horse until Mariah picked up the reins. Then he came alive. Sueño’s controlled power surged beneath her. She sat motionless in the saddle because even the most inconsequential movement on her part disturbed their delicate harmony. Sueño’s hooves drummed the ground in a

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hypnotic, steady rhythm as he floated across the arena. For such a large animal, he was light and graceful, changing his direction and speed with fluid ease. In a magical union of two species, they danced in the morning light. **** Rico lounged in a deck chair by the pool, oblivious to the million-dollar view laid out before him like a postcard. The Delgado house was nestled in a private cove and bordered Mariah’s farm. The large, two-story cedar home sprawled over a wide expanse of lawn that ended with a small private beach. Rico’s eyes rested on a madrona tree that grew on the bank along the water’s edge. It looked like it’d been on a week-long drunk the way it twisted and turned its burgundy trunk to find sun. Yeah, sometimes he felt that way, too, unable to find himself or the sun. Like a smoker craving his next cigarette, Rico picked up his cell phone and started to dial. He cut the phone off after the first ring. He wasn’t going to give in just yet. He’d made it four days. One phone call from him, and his entire family would descend upon him. He wouldn't have a moment's peace. Not to mention they expected him to pay for everything, and that well had almost ran dry. Rico put his head in his hands. The weight of the world, at least his small world, sat on his shoulders. Everyone looked to him to make things right. Except this time, he wasn't sure how to do that. Shit. Rico sighed. This was why he dreaded vacations. There was nothing to occupy his mind and too much time to think about his empty life, his financial issues, and his uncertain future. Yet, there was hope. An attractive time-occupier in the shape of a gorgeous female and her mind-reading horse had just tangoed into his life. Nothing like a good old-fashioned seduction to get the creative juices flowing again. Now he needed to map out a strategy. Seducing Mariah called for unique tactics. She didn’t fit the usual mold of the women he dated, when he dated. He liked them beautiful, easy, and lacking in the intelligence department. No way would Mariah be easy. She fit the beautiful requirement. Now, for the brains... Well, a woman who

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challenged his mind, as well as his body, might be a welcome change. Not since Carmen had he been interested in a woman with a brain. The dumb ones were easily placated with gifts and flowers. The smart ones demanded more than he was willing to give, but this time he’d make an exception. His body begged for a little female companionship. He’d denied himself pleasure for too long in favor of work, work, and more work. Funny, most people assumed he partied all night, every night. Wouldn’t they be surprised to learn that his personal life consisted of getting up in the morning and going to bed at night? Alone, he might add. That horse, Sueño, probably saw more action than he did. He probably had tons of little fillies chasing him around the pasture. Rico shook his head and chuckled. Just when he didn’t think things could get any lower in his life, he’d just sunk to an all-time low. He envied a frigging horse! Okay, so the horse had proven to be a useful ally. That pushing trick couldn’t have worked out better if he’d planned it himself. Little thrills of excitement vibrated through his body as he remembered the feel of her in his arms. She’d been so soft, pliable, and so female. He couldn’t deny the instant chemistry between them, not when his body still sizzled from the impact. Laughing, he imagined burn marks on his chest where she’d clung to him. Yet, it wasn’t just her body he wanted. In his old world, women with todie-for bodies had been a dime a dozen. There was something about her. Something indefinable. The way she mind-melded with that horse fascinated him, too. He needed to know more about...what did she call it? Sounded like massage. Oh, yeah, dressage. Maybe he’d surf the Internet and do a little research. The logical side of Rico researched everything, dissected it into little pieces, and put it back together in a creative way. It was that creative spirit in him that had suffered lately to the point of non-existence. Rico felt his old depression seep back in, but he dampened it down. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall back into that trap. He loathed his recent tendency to wallow in self-pity. He had better things to do. Like seduce his neighbor.

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Chapter 2 The Next Move Mariah ignored the growing stack of bills on the antique oak dining table. Next to them lay Rodrigo’s sunglasses. Skirting around them, she gave the table as wide a berth as she would a rattlesnake sunning itself on a rock. Long ago she’d perfected the Scarlett O’Hara method of handling problems: she’d think about it tomorrow. Or never. Between the mounting expenses on this old horse farm and her penchant for shopping, money never stayed in her bank account long. Even when she'd worked in Seattle as an interior designer for a prestigious firm, she spent as much as she made. She acknowledged it was a problem, but she'd always been this way, and frankly, she didn't know how to be any other way. She loved nice things. Unfortunately, she had Armani taste on a Wal-Mart budget. There was just never enough money. There had to better things to think about. Like Rodrigo Perez, for instance. Her thoughts hadn’t strayed far from him all day. She half-regretted not accepting his invitation. Someday she’d learn to be bold and less uptight about stuff like that. Someday. He seemed safe enough, though a little too self-assured and cocky for her taste. Her intuition warned her not to fall into the trap of judging that book by its cover. Something didn’t jive with him. Despite his brashness, he seemed sad and lost. The man hid some secrets behind his devil-may-care smile, espresso eyes, and shabby clothes. He dressed like he didn’t have a penny to his name, yet none of it added up. The more she tried to talk herself out of being interested in him, the more interested she became. She couldn’t recall ever being this attracted to a man upon first meeting him.

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A man like him could be deadly to a vulnerable woman’s heart. Here she was, barely thirty and a hopeless case when it came to sex and romance. From the Warren Disaster to Blind-Date Mike, she attracted the wrong men without exception. Maybe there weren’t any right men. Maybe every one of them had their brains buried down south of their bellybuttons. Maybe some did a better job of concealing that fact than others. Maybe she was just a coward. Or maybe she should just stick with horses and shopping. Those stupid sunglasses called to her. They needed to be returned, but she didn’t want to subject her heart to Mr. Scruffy. She’d sneak over to the Delgado’s and leave the sunglasses where he’d find them. Grabbing them, she left her comfortable old craftsman style farmhouse. While the original covered porch extended across the front of the house, the backside had been remodeled years ago. A mish mash of large windows, French doors, decks, and a patio took advantage of the view. The stairs down to the water had rotted so she carefully made her way down the rocky bank. Her aunt’s property and the Delgado property shared the same cove. The lights from the Delgado house were barely visible through the trees. Mariah pictured Rodrigo sitting on the deck sipping a margarita. She skirted the shoreline and picked her way through the darkness. Stumbling a few times, she lectured herself for not bringing a flashlight. Craning her neck, she tried to get a better view of the house tucked back in the cove. The lights from the estate reflected off the water and illuminated her path. She hesitated. What was she doing? One minute she'd told him to get lost and now she was spying on him. Well, he’d spied on her, so one good turn deserved another. Moving closer, she positioned herself in the best spot to look in the two-story windows. She didn’t see anyone inside. She crept to the edge of the lawn, pausing to listen for sounds in the night. Not even frogs or crickets could be heard. She tiptoed across the dew-dampened grass. Her sandals slapped on the ground, making too much noise. She hesitated. This was stupid. A wise girl would sneak back home. A smart girl wouldn’t have come here in the first place. What did she plan to do if she found him at home? “Looking for someone?”

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Mariah jumped, and a subdued scream escaped from her throat, as she whirled around. Rodrigo stood on the dock about twenty feet away. He’d caught her red-handed and red-faced. Now who was the stalker? “You scared me,” she blurted out. “That’s the second time today. I’m a scary guy.” He chuckled and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “The second time?” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “Ah ha! So you admit it. You’re the troll!” “I’m the what?” “The troll in the woods who scared my horse.” “I will never admit to it. You know, most people knock on the front door instead of lurking in the shadows.” Amusement peppered his voice and glinted in his mocha eyes. “I...I’m...sorry...I...” Mortified, Mariah stared at the ground. She scooted away from the light, hoping he couldn’t see her face very well. She’d screwed up big time. Just like that, he’s gotten the upper hand. No doubt he’d take that inch and make it into a mile. “Did you change your mind about going out with me?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s a little late for dinner now, but I am still hungry.” His self-satisfied smirk irritated her but not as much as the sticky situation she’d put herself in. “I...I ate dinner,” she stammered. “So did I. Did you think I was referring to food?” Totally flustered, she shut her mouth before she uttered any more words of wisdom. He crooked his little finger at her. “Come here, Mariah. I can barely see you.” That’s the idea. “I thought I’d sit on the end of the dock for a while. Enjoy the evening. Why don’t you join me?” He switched tactics from teasing to persuading. “I should be going.” She didn’t move—not one muscle. “Why? You must have come here for a reason. Or were you doing research to see if I slept in the nude?” Or alone? “No,” she denied vehemently. “No, of course not.” She heard his chuckle in the darkness.

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“You're insufferable,” She wanted to be really pissed at him but those eyes made it a difficult task. “Sorry. Something about you brings it out in me.” He actually did look contrite. “I brought your sunglasses back.” She held them out to him, but he made no move to take them. “Mariah.” His soft coaxing voice vaporized the last of her resistance. “Come here.” Drawn into his web, she walked toward him. He waited for her. Once she stood beside him, he took the sunglasses from her hand and tucked them in his pocket. Then he rested his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the end of the dock. Rodrigo sat down on the edge and swung his bare feet back and forth in the water, making ripples. He smiled up at her. The small lights on the dock bathed his face in a soft glow, accenting his chiseled jaw and perfectly sculpted cheekbones. A small shiver thrummed through her body. She frowned. He patted the dock beside him. “Sit down. Keep me company for a while. I’ll try to behave myself.” She hesitated. He wanted her to sit down next to him and trust him to behave? Heck, she wasn't sure if she trusted herself to behave with this man. Yet she owed him an apology for being less than civil earlier in the day. With a resigned sigh, Mariah sat beside him. Removing her sandals, she, too, dangled her feet in the water. He reached behind his back into the darkness and produced a bottle of red wine and a glass. Without asking, he poured her a glass and handed it to her. “Thank you, but that’s your glass.” “If you won’t think I’m completely uncouth, I’ll just drink out of the bottle.” “That’s okay with me.” Her ex-fiancé, Warren never would have done such a thing, but this guy wasn’t Warren. Thank God. He took a swig, never taking his dark eyes off her face. She squirmed under his probing gaze. After taking a sip of her wine, she concentrated on the contents of her glass. It tasted good and warm. Just like he would. Oh my God. Like she’d know anything about that. What was wrong with her?

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Her mind just didn’t work that way. At least, it never had with other men. It sure dived into the gutter where Mr. Scruffy was concerned. She shifted her position and crossed her legs. “You clean up well.” He did a slow appraisal of her. He sniffed. “You smell a hell of a lot better, too. What is that scent?” She hesitated. “Uh...Erotic Passion.” He grinned from ear to ear. “Cool. Very sexy.” She ignored his remark. “Uh, Rodrigo?” “Hmmm?” “I’m sorry I was a little abrupt earlier. Men haven’t been at the top of my list lately. I took it out on you.” “That’s okay. I came on a little strong. I deserved it.” “I’m sorry, too, that I was...” “Stalking me?” His sexy mouth quirked in delight at her discomfort. “No, that wasn’t it at all. I should have gone around to the front. I wanted to check first to see if you were home.” “Afraid you might interrupt something?” “Maybe. I guess.” She looked down at her hands. This guy sent her senses into overload. One foot separated them, yet the way her body reacted he might as well be on top of her. She warned herself not to go there, but she felt that all too familiar flush creep across her face again. Why hadn’t she stayed in her comfortable house and away from this hazardous-to-her-heart man? “So why aren’t men at the top of your list?” His eyes sought hers. He leaned back against the dock and propped himself up with his elbows, giving her a good view of his long, lean body. She fought the urge to tell him the truth, but the urge won. “I had a blind date last night. After the guy finished his expensive meal and several shots of fifteen-year-old Scotch, he went to the restroom. He must have disappeared into a black hole or flushed himself down the toilet because he never returned.” Blind-date Mike’s abrupt exit hadn’t bothered her nearly as much as the tab he’d stiffed her with. Her already lean checkbook now bordered on anorexic, but Rodrigo didn’t need to know that. Rodrigo stared at her as if he couldn’t fathom a man doing such a thing. Obviously, it’d never occurred to him. “Why would he do that to a nice woman like you?”

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“Because I told him I wouldn’t go home with him.” Mariah traced patterns in the water with her toes. “What an ass. We aren’t all like that, Mariah.” She shook her head, not buying his admission. Oh, but you are, Rodrigo. You just have a smoother approach than most. He raised himself back to a sitting position and slid next to her until their shoulders touched. She leaned away from him, trying to be inconspicuous. He leaned closer. The skin on her shoulder smoldered from the casual contact. “What brings you to my island, Rodrigo?” She attempted to distract him. It worked. He stiffened and moved away. “My family.” He concentrated on the water, clearly uncomfortable. “Your family?” “I needed a vacation. Away from them. The Delgado's offered this place. They thought I could do some healing here.” He snorted and rolled his eyes. She was quiet for a moment. “You can. Many people come here for that reason. The Native Americans and Canadians considered this place holy, spiritual. They believed the islands, especially Orcas, had mystical healing powers.” “And you? Are you here for that reason?” He took another swig from the wine bottle and regarded her closely. She shrugged, not willing to give away anymore than she already had. “I inherited the farm from my aunt a year ago. It’s not a working farm anymore, just a few horses, that’s all. My aunt used to breed Andalusians here. Sueño was my high school graduation present from her.” “Sueño is a beautiful stallion,” Rodrigo stated in an obvious attempt to impress her with his knowledge of horses. “Sueño is a gelding, not a stallion.” Mariah managed to hide her amusement. “Oh.” Rodrigo’s face fell. “I thought all male horses were stallions. What’s the difference?” Mariah stared open-mouthed at him. “You don’t know?” “How should I know? I’m not a horse person. I’m a city boy.” Mariah allowed a slow, wicked smile to spread across her face. “Rodrigo, to be gelded is every man’s nightmare.”

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“You mean...?” Rodrigo instinctively pressed his legs tightly together. “He doesn’t have any...?” “That’s right.” “Oh, shit.” Mariah threw back her head and roared with laughter. At first Rodrigo looked annoyed, then he joined in. The man could take a joke. “You are a city boy.” “And proud of it. So, you’ve been here a year?” “I have nothing to go back to in Seattle. The firm I worked for cut back, and as the newest employee, I was laid off.” “You’re making the farm your home?” “I’m not sure what to do about it, not yet, anyway. There are problems. I can’t bear to sell it. It’s been in my family for over a hundred years. Plus, a camp for under-privileged kids leases one corner of the property. It'd probably be closed down if I sold it. Unfortunately, the taxes on all that waterfront and acreage come close to equaling a small country’s national debt.” “I can imagine. What kind of work do you do?” “I’m an interior designer. I’ve been doing design jobs here on the island, but there’s not a lot of business. When the economy is bad, that’s the first thing people cut. I did the Delgado’s house.” “Oh, yeah, I think you mentioned that. You did a wonderful job.” She could tell he was impressed. “Thank you.” Darn, she was blushing again. “Where’d you work in Seattle?” “I worked for large firm, very prestigious. I designed interiors for the very wealthy–and very demanding. It was a high stress job with long hours. I loved it, but it consumed me. My riding suffered, so did my personal relationships.” She hesitated. She didn’t want to get into a discussion with him about her failed engagement to Warren. “I started there fresh out of college and was working my way up when I lost my job.” “I have that problem, too, working to the point where I don’t have a personal life.” “Are you on vacation for an entire month by yourself? I mean is there someone else joining you?” Mariah regretted the words the minute she said them, but she had to know. Did he have a wife or girlfriend?

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“All by myself.” He frowned and stared at the water lapping at his feet. “That’s odd for me. Usually, I never get much time alone to do what I want. Now that I have it, I don’t know what to do with it. I’m at loose ends.” He gave her a crooked smile. “And no, I don’t have anyone right now if that’s what you’re asking.” Mortified, Mariah stammered, “I wasn’t asking. It’s none of my business.” “Sure it is. I asked you out, so it is your business. And you? Do you live alone in that big farmhouse?” “Uh huh. Just me.” She was more alone than he knew. She swallowed and studied the stars in the sky. A slight breeze cooled her skin and rustled the tree branches. “When the weather is like this, there isn’t a prettier place on earth.” Rodrigo looked around, as if seeing everything for the first time but said nothing. He took her hand and squeezed it. The evening flew by as Mariah talked about her riding and her connection with horses. Rodrigo seemed genuinely interested. They consumed the bottle of wine, and the conversation flowed, easy and relaxed. Yet, as comfortable as it was, he sidestepped answering personal questions with the expertise of a seasoned politician. He behaved like a perfect gentleman. He didn’t touch her or come on to her. Maybe he’d lost interest in her as anything but a friend. Well, that would be her luck, considering she found him very attractive. Every time she looked in his eyes, she felt these little jolts of excitement. He made her feel like melted butter on warm bread. She wanted to be soaked up by his heat. Those thoughts were dangerous. Very dangerous. She’d be safer grappling with rabid shoppers during Nordstrom’s sale of the year. Well after midnight Mariah regretfully climbed to her feet. “I really have to go, Rodrigo. It’s been nice talking to you.” “Let me walk you home, bella. It’s dark. You shouldn’t be out here alone.” No, no, no, screamed the good girl inside. “That would be nice,” the bad girl she didn’t know existed said out loud and batted her eyelashes at him. His grin grew wider, as if anticipating she didn’t know what. They walked together down the beach, picking their way through the darkness. Sometimes, their bodies bumped into each other causing Mariah

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to giggle nervously. What if he wanted to kiss her? She couldn’t kiss him. She was a lousy kisser. Horrible. But she wanted him to kiss her. A big red hot fiery kiss on the lips. Maybe even some tongue? Maybe even.... His voice interrupted her thoughts as they neared her house. “Mariah, what happened to your stairs?” “They’re rotted, and I’m worthless as a carpenter. I just use that trail through the rocks up the bank.” Rodrigo reached for her hand and helped her up the steep bank onto the lawn. He stopped, turned to face her, and regarded her with an unreadable expression. Her heart sashayed right up next to him, and her body followed. She leaned into him, and he met her halfway. As their bodies touched, the electricity between them practically crackled. He tightened his grip on her hand. Long fingers wrapped around her smaller ones, encasing them in his gentle strength. His other hand rested on her waist. Those mocha eyes beckoned to her, tempted her. She succumbed and slid into their depths. The oxygen was forced from her lungs. Giant butterflies pummeled her stomach. Her reckless heart pounded like a conga drum. Every cell in her body somersaulted like a hoard of out-of-control bungee jumpers. Mariah tore her eyes away from his to preserve what was left of her sanity. She stepped away, breaking the contact with his body. Blinking furiously, she dared to glance at him again. All she saw this time was a handsome man with a bad haircut and lousy taste in clothes. “You okay?” His voice sounded odd. Okay? Hadn’t he felt it? How could she have just taken that wild ride alone? She studied him more closely. He looked a little disconcerted, but he hid it well. He let go of her hand. “I’ll be by tomorrow morning to fix those steps for you.” “You will?” “Sure. I’m pretty handy with a hammer.” “You really don’t need to do that.” “I want to. It’ll be good for me to do some physical labor.” “I can’t afford to pay you.” He grinned, as if she’d just said the magic words. “It’s not money I’m after.” He winked at her. “Adios, amor.”

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“Goodnight,” she whispered long after he'd disappeared from sight. **** Rico threw a bunch of tools in the back of Max’s old pickup truck along with several boards of varying sizes. He’d told her the truth about being handy. As the only man around the house during his teenage years, it fell on his shoulders to repair almost anything that broke. He looked forward to doing something with his hands. Of course, he could think of better places for his hands than on wood and nails. Somehow, he’d resisted kissing her last night. A woman like her needed to want him as much or more than he wanted her. Unfortunately, while he waited for her to heat up, his own cooling system steamed and boiled. He’d never forget the way she looked up at him and tilted her head. Then she parted those luscious red lips of hers in an invitation to be kissed. He’d held back his stampeding hormones with superhuman force, giving a new definition to iron man. He had to wait. Have patience. Damn good things came to those who waited. In no time, she’d be begging him to do more than kiss her. Rico parked in her driveway and waved at her as she rode Sueño in the arena. She waved back. Gathering his stuff together, he carried it to the edge of the lawn and went to work. She joined him a few hours later with some deli sandwiches she’d bought down the road in Deer Harbor. He pounded his last nail in the repaired stairs and sank to the lawn beside her. “Thanks.” Rico took the sandwich she offered as his stomach growled its approval. “I’m starved.” He wolfed down his sandwich and half of hers then looked for more. “How can you eat like that not be as big as a house?” “Nervous energy, I guess. I work out, too.” He caught her giving his body a shy, yet appreciative, once-over. So she did notice. “I’ve been wondering, Rodrigo, why did you exile yourself to these islands?” A shadow of a smile played at her lips. “Because of my life,” he said without thinking. “And what is your life like?” Looking down at her hand on his arm, she quickly removed it.

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“Huh? Oh. It’s forty-eight hours packed into a twenty-four-hour day and that doesn’t include time for sleeping. In fact, this is my first real vacation in about eight years.” “That’s a long time. What do you do?” “I’m in the international trade business.” “That must be high-stress and demanding, but exciting.” “Yeah, it is.” Or was, once upon a time. “Do you import or export merchandise?” “A little of both.” His evasive answers seemed to frustrate her. Even so, her next question caught him off-guard. “Did you come to Orcas to heal?” He frowned. Personal questions made him uneasy. He didn’t want to think about all the reasons he'd banished himself to this island. “Mariah, I’m here to escape my life and forget about stuff for a while. I’d rather not talk about it. I just want to enjoy this time together without my past influencing what happens between us. Can you accept that?” She looked puzzled. “I guess so. I’m not sure what you mean, but okay.” An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. He tried to think of something to say to ease the tension, but she beat him to it. “You must speak fluent Spanish?” He laughed. “Sí, better than I speak English. Do you speak Spanish?” “No, just a little. After the basics, I took every art class I could. Oh, yeah, there was a futile attempt to learn Italian. I don’t think being bilingual is in the cards for me.” She worked that lower lip of hers with her teeth again. God, that turned him on. “You called me a bella.” “Sí, it means beautiful.” “I know what it means. I’m not, you know.” “Not what?” “Beautiful.” She fidgeted with her napkin and stole a look at him through lowered lashes. He stared at her in silence. If she was any other woman, he’d swear she was fishing for compliments. Not her. She didn’t know she was beautiful. He didn’t understand how that could be possible, but it was. Her refreshing

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innocence would be his undoing. It turned him on more than any blatant seduction ever had. “Mariah, I think you are beautiful.” So would every other male on the planet with eyesight. She blushed a very attractive deep rose color. “Thank you.” Focusing on the ground, she plucked blades of grass and wrapped them around a slender, even her fingers were sexy. Abruptly, she stood and tested the stairs he’d repaired, walking down and then back up. Rico waited for her on the top step. “Rodrigo, thanks for fixing those stairs. I don’t know how I can repay you....” “Go out with me tonight. Please.” “I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m meeting my friends at a bar in Eastsound for drinks. We planned this over a week ago. How about a rain check?” She graced him with a radiant smile. Her smile warmed his heart, made him feel good about himself. She felt familiar to him, like an old friend, someone he’d known before and always. He planned on knowing her again, every inch of her. That feeling, coupled with his loneliness, drove him to pursue her in ways he’d never bothered to pursue a woman. She was going to be his little piece of heaven on this island known for its magic. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he felt it deep in his bones.

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Chapter 3 La Cantina Rico leaned one elbow on the counter and nursed his beer. The place was packed with locals dressed in jeans and t-shirts and tourists in garish colors and loafers. Glasses clinked together as a rotund waitress balanced a tray of drinks and sidestepped near disaster as someone backed into her path. He turned sideways on the bar stool and watched Mariah at a table across the room. She turned to talk at one of her friends, giving him a good view of her profile. Dios, she was stunning with that little upturned nose and high delicate cheekbones. Her hair shone like polished mahogany, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. He'd be having fantasies tonight about that luxurious mane draped across his bare chest. And those eyes, those meadow-green eyes—he wanted to lie down naked in that meadow and let his skin absorb her warmth. And that mouth. It tempted and tormented a man to kiss it thoroughly or engage it in a few other lascivious activities fabricated by his sex-starved mind. Her flowered sundress stopped at mid-thigh to give him a good view of her delectable legs. He visualized those long legs of hers wrapped around his waist, urging him to completion. The dress dipped modestly low in front and temptingly low in back. He suspected it sported a designer label judging by the quality. He bet it clung to her cute little bottom when she stood up. Stand up for me, baby. Her angel’s face and vixen’s body made for one attractive package. It'd been a long time since a woman had him so hot and horny. It felt good, really good. Apathy, even toward sex, had dominated his personal life in the past couple years. He’d focused on his work to the exclusion of everything else, making his import business the best in the Los Angeles area.

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Unfortunately, his family spent his money as fast as he could make it. Putting a lid on that depressing thought, he centered his attention on her. When he'd walked into the bar a few minutes ago, he couldn’t believe his good luck. Of course, finding her wasn’t completely a matter of chance. There were only a few bars in the small town of Eastsound. Plus, the pickup truck parked at her house earlier today appeared to be the same one parked down the block from this restaurant. She didn’t have a clue that he sat several feet from her, but she would soon. A guy couldn’t hurry a woman like that. In a moment, Phase One of his carefully planned seduction would commence, and God help them both. Hell, he hadn’t had this much fun in years. **** Mariah threw back her head and laughed. She took another sip of her sangria and pretended to listen to Bob tell a humorous story about some tourists he’d taken out in his charter boat last week. The five friends met a couple times a month in the small bar in the island’s only Mexican restaurant. The place smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. The décor consisted of tacky sombreros and sarapes in garish colors stapled to a fake stucco wall. Scratchy speakers played what sounded like Mexican polka music. Mariah’s feet stuck to the brown tile floor and her arms stuck to the table. She loved the place. Besides, on the island a girl didn’t have too many choices when it came to drinking establishments. Mariah tried to concentrate on the conversation being volleyed around the table, but her mind kept drifting to the Latin hunk with the mocha eyes. She sighed as she pulled herself back to reality one more time. What was that they were saying? She hadn’t caught a word of it. Hopefully, no one would ask her a question. As always, she was the odd person in a group of couples. Someday, she’d find some poor guy to drag along if she had to pay him just so they wouldn’t pity her for being alone or try to find her a man. She’d been halftempted to invite Rodrigo to join her tonight. She could just imagine the looks on her friends’ faces if she showed up with her sexy neighbor in tow.

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Mariah plucked a choice nacho chip dripping with cheese from the plate and popped it into her mouth. Bob had a tendency to go on and on. She stifled a yawn and finished off her sangria, doing her best to look interested. “Señorita?” The waiter bent down low to be heard over the din in the bar. “Yes?” Mariah watched as the waiter placed another glass of sangria in front of her. “Excuse me, I didn’t order this,” she said in confusion. “Sí, it is compliments of the man sitting at the bar.” The harried waiter didn’t wait for a response as he moved to the next table. Mariah turned to scan the bar. Rodrigo was perched on a tall barstool. His long legs were wrapped around the stool and the heels of his scuffed boots were hooked on the footrest. He’d abandoned his T-shirt in favor of a well-worn, white cotton shirt with short sleeves. He wore it open at the throat and unbuttoned several buttons to reveal his tanned chest and crisp, dark chest hair. His black jeans fit him like a second skin. To her abject horror, a Yankees baseball cap covered his unruly hair. Didn’t the man realize he was deep in Mariners’ territory and Yankee might as well be a four-letter word? Their eyes connected, causing a small internal tremor in her body that topped the Rodrigo scale at about 7.0. She smiled at her stupid pun and then realized he interpreted her smile as an invitation. He raised his index finger to his temple in a mock salute. With a mixture of dread and anticipation, she watched as he tossed cash on the counter to pay for his drinks. He and his beer headed for her table. Mariah snapped her head forward and focused on her friends. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d keep walking. She wasn’t prepared for this. The last thing she wanted was for her friends to meet him. They’d read more into it than there was and tease her without mercy. Not to mention the embarrassing things they’d say to him given half the chance. He’d find out she rarely dated, and she'd look desperate for male attention. She didn’t want Rodrigo to think that of her, even if it was true. Without turning around, she felt his presence behind her. His mouth grazed the hair by her ear. She should have known the brash man wasn’t that easily discouraged. “So,” he whispered in his deep, sexy voice, “fate seems to find ways to bring us together.”

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“Something tells me that fate had nothing to do with it.” She looked over her shoulder at him. He was so close, his lips brushed her cheek. Embarrassed by his boldness, she leaned away from him. He leaned closer. He grinned, his olive complexion contrasted by perfect white teeth. “Did you miss me?” She ignored his remark. “Hello, Rodrigo.” Her friends grew silent. Four pairs of eyes zeroed in on the two of them. Rodrigo didn’t have a shy bone in his body. He smiled engagingly and introduced himself. Shaking hands with the men, he graced the women with his irresistible presence. Nancy and Linda melted on the spot, adding two more to his growing list of admirers, or so it seemed. “Are you a friend of Mariah’s?” Nancy asked with a quick glance in Mariah’s direction. Mariah frowned. If her friend didn't quit slobbering soon, there'd be a puddle on the table. “We’re neighbors. I’m staying at Max Delgado’s place for a month. Mariah and I are acquainted.” Four pairs of eyebrows crept up to their hairlines. “Really? Join us,” Carl suggested, ever the helpful, friendly guy. Mariah shot daggers at both men. Rodrigo didn’t wait for a second invitation. He stole a chair from an adjacent table. Her traitorous friends shifted to make room for him next to her. She realized with a sinking heart that she couldn’t depend on them to rescue her. Instead, they threw her to the wolf. That scruffy, Latin wolf happily slid his chair next to hers until their thighs touched. As if that wasn’t enough, he took her hand and kissed each finger with care then turned it over to kiss her palm. Nancy gasped and dropped her fork. Linda missed her mouth, and wine dribbled down her chin, unnoticed. “Bella, it’s been too long. About four hours?” He looked at each of her friends to gauge their reactions, appearing to be insufferably pleased with himself. Mariah considered crawling under the table. She’d never hear the end of this. Her face burned with a heat caused by more than embarrassment. No matter how infuriating this man could be, her body seemed to have the hots for him. Using his charisma and innate charm, Rodrigo had her friends eating out of his hand in five minutes. He engaged them in conversation about the

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islands and their lives yet gave very little of himself away. He deftly dodged probing questions about his personal and professional life with an ease born of experience. His polished demeanor seemed inconsistent with his unkempt appearance. Who was this man with the smoothness of a politician, face of a movie star, and clothes of a bum? **** Rico cringed as some snot-nosed kid, barely old enough to be in a bar, butchered one of his biggest hits. Then to add insult to injury, the kid attempted to imitate some of Rico’s signature dance moves. Mariah laughed at Rico’s pained expression. She seemed to be enjoying his aversion to karaoke, probably her form of petty revenge for his earlier teasing. She had no idea how painfully personal this really was. “He’s pretty bad, isn’t he?” Rico nodded, staring at the kid with irritation. “He’s not Rico Sanchez by a long shot.” Rico snapped his head around so fast, she jumped. He studied her closely. His dark eyes narrowed. She stared back at him, totally guileless. He breathed a sign of relief. It had been an innocent remark. “No. No, he’s not,” he agreed, still distracted by the racket that barely qualified as singing. “Whatever happened to that guy?” Carl commented. “He was everywhere one day then gone the next,” Nancy added. “Drugs. What else?” Bob rolled his eyes. “Too much money, not enough sense.” “Yeah, I heard something about that. In and out of rehab. Got to be so difficult to work with that his record company let him go.” “Yeah, but they stayed with him until they couldn't milk any more money out of him.” “That's what happens in that business. Everybody loves you when you're on top. They don't remember your name when you're on the bottom.” Rico squirmed and pretended they weren’t dissecting his life. God knows, it’d been dissected enough in the last four years. He turned in his

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chair and faked interest in the singer. Unfortunately, his dog had a better voice. “Typical entertainer. They're all flakes. Didn't he end up in jail?” Nancy countered and flipped a nacho chip at Bob who was making faces at the kid on the mike. “He only stayed in a few days.” Carl yawned. “Well, he was talented.” Mariah insisted. “What a waste.” “His brother sold him out on national TV. Remember that? His interview had the press peeing all over themselves like a litter of excited Cocker Spaniel puppies. He exposed all the dirt on his brother's drug abuses and excesses.” Bob caught the chip and tossed it in his mouth. Rico sighed. Oh, yeah, those same puppies had lifted their legs all over him too. Even after four years, the whole fiasco made his stomach churn, especially his brother’s part in it. “Well, I get tired of celebrities that think they're entitled.” Mariah shook her head in disgust. Rico took a deep breath, torn between keeping his mouth shut and defending himself. Shutting his mouth won—to a point. Rico looked at Mariah. “Do you really think he felt that way?” “He got out of it. I have no respect for people like that. They'll tell you anything to get what they want. You can't trust them.” She spoke like a woman who had suffered at the hands of a dishonest man. So what was he? He’d lied to her about his identity and a pretty big lie. Now he was in too deep with no way out. “I think what’s in his heart is what matters.” Mariah shrugged. “I suppose that’s true.” She focused her attention on the karaoke singer. “You have to give him credit for having the guts to sing in front of this crowd.” She winced as the dreadful crooner hit an earsplitting note. Rico plugged his ears. The kid assaulted his hearing more than two tom cats fighting over a p... uh...female cat. “Did you think he was hot?” He hated himself for asking the question. Mariah’s perfectly shaped eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Him?” She looked at the pimple-faced kid. “No, Rico Sanchez.”

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“Oh, a woman would have to be dead or in a coma to not think he was hot.” She tossed him a wickedly teasing smile. “That hot, huh?” “Uh huh.” She nodded solemnly, though her emerald eyes twinkled. “Do you think I’m hot?” He baited her. His eyes searched hers. Her answer mattered to him more than he cared to admit. “Am I dead or in a coma?” She countered with a sassy smile. “Ay yi yi.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, conceding that round. Her boldness surprised him. Maybe the two sangrias or the chaotic atmosphere gave her courage. Regardless, he might need to rethink his strategy. This woman might prove to be more of a challenge than he'd anticipated. **** The expression on his face was priceless. Mariah applauded herself. She'd gotten one up on this overly brash man. She guessed that didn’t happen often to him. By midnight, her ears hurt from the steady assault on her senses. She’d rather listen to a pack of inebriated coyotes than these American Idol rejects. Besides, Rodrigo was getting too cozy and too confident. With a possessive arm wrapped around her—as if he had the right—and a smug smile, he treated her like his private property. The man had staked his claim, and his menacing expression challenged any man who looked her way. Mariah didn't like it. Not at all. She was no man's personal property, least of all his. Rodrigo needed to learn that lesson, the sooner the better. The time had come to execute a graceful escape. Mariah gathered her purse, extracted herself from Rodrigo, and rose from the table. Rodrigo stood, too, and waited patiently as she told her friends goodbye. Their knowing expressions aggravated her. The man was NOT, repeat NOT, going home with her, regardless of their suspicions. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Rye.” Linda’s voice followed her out the door. “But don’t worry, I won’t call too early and disturb your sleep.” Mariah didn’t need to look back to know they were laughing at her. Rodrigo followed her outside, slipping an arm around her waist as they

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walked along the street. She tried to pull away, but he held on tighter with a firm, but gentle, grip. Uncomfortable, pissed, and a little turned on, she marched along faster. She refused to acknowledge the man fastened to her hip. His unabashed pursuit flattered her, while his arrogant confidence irritated her. “This is my car,” she pointed out, expecting him to let go of her. Instead he turned her to face him and placed both hands on her waist. A woman knows certain things, and she knew she was in deep do-do. He’d stared at her lips several times during the night. Shivers ran down her spine as she tried to imagine what he imagined. This stubborn, insistent man had worn her down little by little as warnings from her rational side went unheeded. She needed to get some distance and gather her wits about her. His probing eyes scanned hers for something. Permission? Approval? Rejection? She felt an unfamiliar, fluttering sensation in her stomach. Mere inches separated them. His lips curved in satisfaction as she unconsciously leaned toward him. In some unexplainable way, she felt him deep inside her soul. His fingers rubbed small circles around her hip bones. His touch scorched her skin, heating her very core. Mariah made a feeble attempt to squirm away. Instead, she proved to herself how powerless she was to stop him. Not that she really wanted to stop him. “Mariah,” he murmured, his accent husky and thick with a need that frightened and exhilarated her. He even rolled the ‘r’ in her name. If that didn’t do a girl in, nothing would. Shouldn’t it be forbidden for a man to have that many weapons of seduction in his sexual arsenal? It was bad enough the guy was gorgeous and charming but an accent, too? Shouldn’t he be required to spread the wealth around a little bit to those men less fortunate? Which pretty much comprised every other man on earth. He pulled her gently against him, as her resistance dissolved into the night air. His strong, muscular arms slid around her waist, holding with a gentleness in direct contrast to the intensity in his gaze. Despite her height, he was taller. Maybe 6’2” or 6’3”? Having to look up was a luxury she seldom experienced with men. The proof of his need pressed lightly against her stomach. She shifted her gaze from his disturbing eyes and studied his stubbled face.

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He tucked her hair behind one ear and used his fingertips to stroke her cheek. Drawn back to those eyes, her lips parted slightly of their own volition. His dark eyes glittered with amusement or lust. She wasn’t sure which. His mouth moved closer. Her eyes fluttered shut as she anticipated the first touch of his lips on hers. Holding her breath, she felt his warm, moist lips graze her cheek, then linger briefly on her mouth with the lightest touch. Then he was gone. His warmth, his vitality, his energy were all gone. His hands around her waist were gone. The heat of his body was gone, leaving a big gap he’d momentarily filled. Mariah blinked a few times. He stood a few feet from her, a smug smile spread across his face. She took a deep breath and came to the conclusion she’d been played like a cheap violin. The self-satisfied jerk had teased her then left her without any satisfaction. Fumbling in her purse, she dug for her keys. He took them from her unsteady hand, unlocked the car door and opened it. Shaken to her toes by their near kiss, Mariah slid behind the wheel. He stood in the open doorway, preventing her from closing it. “Tomorrow night? What time can I pick you up for dinner?” “I...I...” “I promise I’ll finish what I started.” One corner of his sexy mouth quirked, revealing a bit of a Latin devil. “What time?” “Eight.” Like a fly caught in a spider web, she surrendered to her fate. Satisfied, he stepped back and shut the car door. Mariah started the engine then experienced a sudden inspiration. She rolled down the window and leaned out. Crooking her little finger, she beckoned him to come closer. Intrigued, he bent down. She touched his lower lip with a glossy scarlet fingernail. “Rodrigo,” she purred, “two more things.” “Sure, anything.” His eyes were bright with anticipation. “I’ll meet you in the bar at Rosario.” When he started to argue, she interrupted. “Take it or leave it.” Irritation like a summer storm flashed across his face, but he nodded. “And this,” she said with distaste, “has to go.” In one smooth motion, she snatched the Yankees cap from his head, threw it in the passenger seat,

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rolled up the window, and sped off. Rodrigo’s stunned expression was reflected in her rearview mirror. Laughter bubbled inside her. The last laugh was hers. This time. **** The next morning, Mariah slipped into a plastic lawn chair on Eva's deck. Her friend sipped tea, read her ever-present tarot cards and ignored her guest. Sighing, Mariah waited. You couldn’t hurry Eva. She did everything in her own time and her own way. Another beautiful day presented itself with blue skies and a warm sun. Water rippled below them in Cascade Bay. Across the bay stood the stately Moran mansion, built almost a century ago. The mansion and surrounding estate, known as Rosario, had been a resort for decades. Tonight, she’d dine at the mansion with Rodrigo. Until then, thoughts of him spiced up her daydreams and dominated her worries. Taking a calming breath, she studied Eva. The woman claimed to be from gypsy and Native American descent. She insisted her given name was Evening Dawn. Her flamboyant style and exotic appearance supplemented her story. Mariah suspected her sable hair and blue eyes were compliments of synthetics rather than genetics. Her friend lived by two creeds: the more makeup, the better; and a woman can never wear too much jewelry. She danced to her own fabricated drummer. Rumors circulated among the island locals regarding her previous life as a CEO for a successful computer software firm in Seattle. Eva vehemently denied any past involvement with the corporate world. Mariah suspected the CEO rumor was the one actual fact in Eva’s past. Eva looked up, and studied Mariah in silence for quite some time before speaking. “You’ve met a man, a sexy Latin man.” Mariah hated it when Eva took on that ‘I see all’ persona, but she kept her mouth shut. “You’ve been talking to Nancy or Linda.” Eva bristled at Mariah’s lack of faith in her clairvoyant abilities. “He’s not just any man. Is he?” “No, he’s not. He’s different.”

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“Yes, he is.” Eva steepled her fingers and looked beyond Mariah, as if seeing something no one else could see. Mariah stifled the urge to roll her eyes. She admired her friend’s acting ability. Eva played the psychic part well. At times, Mariah almost believed her. “How do you know?” Mariah failed to conceal the skepticism in her voice. “I know.” Eva spoke with calm assurance. “As surely as I know Warren wasn’t right for you. He destroyed your creativity. He wanted to possess you, control you. He didn’t want you to grow. He would have smothered you.” “And this man?” Mariah played along. Once you waded through the mystical garbage, the woman offered good insights. Eva considered the question for a long time. “People come into our lives when we are most ready to learn what they have to teach us. This man has the power to fulfill your dreams. He also has the power to hurt you more deeply than anyone in your life. He won’t do it on purpose. His intentions are good, but he isn’t capable of giving you everything you need at this time.” “I think he’s dangerous. To me.” “He can be to your heart. We all have choices, Mariah. There is one person on this earth that you were meant to be with. This person has the power to damage you more than anyone else. He also has the power to love you more than anyone else. He will make his choices, and you will make yours. That is the part that I cannot predict.” Mariah smiled. She was letting her friend’s mystic BS affect her too deeply. Besides, she recalled a similar conversation regarding the recently departed, one-date Mike. “I just met him. We’re going to dinner tonight. That’s hardly enough time to declare our undying love for each other.” “Think what you want, Rye. Your heart knows the truth of what I’m saying.” “He does consume a lot of my thoughts, which is annoying.” “Did you sleep with him? “No, of course not.” Mariah bristled, feeling as prickly as a cactus on a cold, desert night.

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“Why not? If you’re so attracted to him, what’s the concern?” Eva turned over a Tarot card and studied it. “Hmmm….” “You know I can’t do that. I met him yesterday. Besides, he’s only visiting, he won’t be here long.” “Release your inner child. Let go for once. Rye, don’t let fear block this opportunity for personal and spiritual growth. Have a fling. It is your fate. You owe it to your true self.” “I owe it to my true self not to get involved with a man like that.” Eve raised one dark brow and pursed her deep red lips. “When you’re old and drawing your last breath, what will you regret the most, the things you did or the things you didn’t do?” She hated it when Eva was right. **** The phone startled Rico from a deep sleep, interrupting an almost-wet dream involving his delectable neighbor. They’d been on the beach, the surf rolling in and out over their damp skin. Her body writhed underneath him. Her voice alternated between moaning and screaming. And those long legs of hers. If she’d wrap those legs around him like that just once, he’d die a happy man. Then there were those emerald eyes. They penetrated right through all his defenses. They saw him, the real him, and sent him to places this man hadn’t gone before. The phone rang again, rudely reminding him once more to beam back down to the planet. He flipped open the cell phone and spoke into it, “Hola.” “Rico, how are you?” “Great, Angel.” Rico stretched and tucked the phone under his chin. He linked his hands behind his head and sprawled out on the lounge chair in the warm sun. He had known his sister, Angelina, would get around to calling him sooner or later. At twenty-eight she was four years younger than him. Yet, she insisted on mothering him. “I haven’t heard from you. I wanted to make sure one of those Northwest monsters hadn’t taken off with you.” “They have monsters here?”

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“Yeah, what do they call them? Sasquatch, I think? Not to mention the volcanoes and the earthquakes.” “No, I’ve seen nothing like that.” Unless you count the near-kiss Mariah and I shared last night. That qualified as a minor earthquake. “You sound rested.” “I am.” Rico yawned and stretched. “Good, you needed it. I’ve never seen you so on-edge. I thought you were gonna stuff dad in the air-conditioning vent just before you left.” Sometimes, Rico regretted that his sister worked for his company as an accountant. She always meddled in his business and personal life. Regardless, he loved her dearly. “I still don’t think I need a vacation. At least not a month-long one.” “Sure. You’ve been so charming to work with. None of us could stand being around you.” Rico growled at her but said nothing. Angel laughed. He’d never been able to intimidate her. “Besides, it’s perfect timing with Dad being on his honeymoon and out of everyone’s hair.” “Yeah, I guess. I’d never leave the business for a month if he was around. We’d all be bankrupt.” “I thought we almost were.” He ignored that remark. “Have you heard from him?” “Yeah, he’s having a great time with his latest chicky baby, what is her name anyway?” “Hell if I know. I don’t bother learning their names until they pass the one-month test.” “One month married to Dad and not filing for a divorce?” “Yep, that’s it. I don’t understood why he bothers to marry them anymore.” “It’s a mystery to me.” “Yeah.” Rico sighed. “Wish he’d try for a more mature woman.” “Like over twenty-one?” Angel laughed. “I really do miss you. What’s it like there? Is it as beautiful as Max and Carmen claimed?”

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“It’s all right. The best thing is that not one person has recognized me. I’m one of the crowd around here. Funny how things that most people take for granted can be such a luxury. You've told no one where I am?” “Of course not. If I had, the aunts, uncles, and cousins would already be on your doorstep, palms extended.” “I can't believe I’m running from my own family.” “You need a break. They need a dose of living without your constant handouts.” She switched subjects. “Have you been keeping yourself busy?” Rico hesitated. An enticing woman to seduce did wonders for a guy’s boredom. He wasn’t about to tell Angel that though. Unfortunately, Angel knew him too well and read his mind. “Don’t tell me. You’ve met a woman?” “I’ve found someone to spend some time with. Muy caliente. We’re going out tonight.” “Hot, huh? God, Rico, that’s good to hear. You need a diversion like that with someone who isn’t in the business.” Rico didn’t respond. He considered Mariah a diversion, yet it didn’t sit well with him when Angel made the same assumption. “Angel, do you know anything about horses?” “No, not much. Why?” Angel sounded puzzled. “This woman I met. She makes horses dance. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” “They stand up on their hind legs and dance? Is she in the circus?” His sister’s rich laughter echoed across the phone. “No, when she rides them, it’s...it’s....” Rico sought the words. He couldn't find the right ones in English or Spanish. “It’s magic.” “Okay. If you say so, Rico.” “You have to see it to appreciate it.” “Let me get this straight, you’re seeing a woman who works in the circus and makes horses dance by using magic? Do they tango or waltz or what?” “Awwww, forget it.” Rolling to his feet, he tucked the cell phone under his chin and walked into the house. He checked himself out in the bathroom mirror. He needed a shave and his hair had been pretty much wash and wear this morning. He briefly considered a shower then decided not to bother. He hadn’t done enough all day to possibly get dirty.

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His hair drove him nuts. He liked it shorter because the longer it got the more it seemed to do its own thing. It kept falling in his eyes, yet he didn’t dare cut it. So far, he’d managed to remain anonymous even though he’d received some curious second looks. If word got out that he was on the island, he might as well pack up and leave. **** Mariah eyed herself in the mirror with distress. Her hair refused to cooperate. Her wrinkled dress hung on her like a sack. Her makeup just wasn’t right. She’d broken a fingernail and plucked her eyebrows until they'd almost disappeared. Eva insisted she could be in a Clairol commercial with her hair and eyes, but Eva loved to exaggerate. Mariah thought she resembled a before picture from a Glamour makeover article. Sighing dramatically, she brushed her long dark hair, attempting to bring out the auburn highlights. After she put down the hairbrush, she shook her head in disgust and applied some more eyeliner to her eyes. She turned around several times, frowning at her appearance with a critical eye. When she looked in the mirror, she saw herself as she’d been in high school, gangly and awkward with long legs and arms. She’d towered over the boys in her class and slumped whenever she stood next to them. She almost cried when she splattered nail polish on her new dress. In exasperation, she threw herself down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Calm down, it was just dinner with a guy. Okay, a scruffy, gorgeous guy but still just a guy. She didn’t have to go home with him or invite him to her place. Just have dinner and relax and keep the dessert in the restaurant. Mariah sighed. The only way she’d avoid the inevitable would be to refuse to see him. Her body had already made its decision. It was only a matter of time. Once they slept together, that would be the end of him. She couldn’t meet his expectations in comparison with the other women he’d probably had. After all, she was lousy in bed, a cold fish. That’s what Warren had always told her.

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Chapter 4 The Wine and Dine Rico sipped his wine and surveyed the old mansion’s bar, once the main living room. The place reminded him of a classical luxury liner with its nautical theme and mission-style antiques. A massive concrete and marblechip fireplace dominated one wall. Stained glass lanterns and candles cast the room in a warm glow, just perfect for a little romantic liaison. In one corner, a musician set up his keyboard near the teak dance floor for the night’s entertainment. The music had to be more tolerable than the Karaoke singers from the night before. It couldn’t be worse. Mariah's choice of locations left him wondering what his sexy island girl had in mind for tonight. He couldn’t have created a better backdrop for a seduction if he'd planned it himself. Shame on her, pretending to be so innocent and sweet then picking this particular place for their little rendezvous. He was starting to feel pretty lucky. Then again, one glass of wine and a half a plate of nachos later, Rico checked his watch for the hundredth time. A half hour late. He drummed his fingers on the table until the couple next to him asked to be moved. Sighing, he poured another glass of wine. At this rate he'd be drunk before dinner. What if she didn't show? His heart sank at the thought, leaving him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t have her phone number either. That was a major oversight on his part. Giving in to weakness, he left his seat and stepped outside. Lighting a cigarette, he inhaled deeply. Nasty habit, someday he’d quit. At least, he’d cut back. Lately, he only smoked when he was stressed or with other smokers. This woman was driving him to drink and smoke, two bad habits he'd curtailed in the past couple years.

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He was in lust, pure and simple, and damn, it had felt good. Now it just felt frustrating. Where the hell was that woman? Despite his former reputation as a Latin lover, the last time he’d slept with a woman had been months ago. Mariah could temporarily fill that void in his life, one that had been there since Carmen had dumped him four years ago. Rico shivered as a breeze blew in from the water. The setting sun colored Cascade Bay in oranges and reds. It’d be dark before long. He took one last drag, drew the smoke into his lungs then stubbed out his cigarette. Walking back into the bar, he slumped in his chair. A few tables away, two gorgeous women tried to get his attention. Disinterested, Rico moved his chair, giving them a view of his back. He didn’t want either of them, he wanted Mariah. Forty-five minutes late and counting. He debated on how long he should stay before giving up on her. He felt something. Then he knew. He swung his gaze to the doorway. She stood there, an angel of mercy rescuing a drowning man. When she spotted him, a soul-warming smile crossed her beautiful face. His heart sped up, and he held his breath. His body hummed with anticipation. She did it for him in pretty much every way he could think of and maybe some he hadn’t thought of in a long time. Her incredible hair was loose and softly curled. He indulged in a splitsecond fantasy in which her long mane grazed his naked thighs. His eyes dropped lower. A sleeveless white top bared an inch of her midriff, and black Capri pants hugged her long legs. Yet another fantasy in the making. Rico needed those fantasies to become a reality. And soon. He glanced down at his own clothes, his usual faded jeans, scuffed boots, and white t-shirt. He'd taken this casual Northwest way of dressing to heart. Hey, at least he was clean. Mariah would hyperventilate if she ever got a load of his closet brimming with Armani and Calvin Klein at home. She reached the table, and he stood. “You look muy caliente. Very hot.” “Thank you.” An attractive crimson stained her cheeks. Moving aside, he helped her slide onto the padded wooden bench then settled beside her. Her surprised expression indicated she probably hadn’t expected such good manners. After all, he drank wine from a bottle and had a sexual innuendo (or two) for every occasion.

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“I’m so sorry I’m late.” She did the lowered lashes and coy smile thing to perfection. It worked for him. “I’m just glad you’re here. I was worried you might stand me up.” He hoped he didn't sound like he was groveling. Dios. He didn't grovel. “I would never do that to you, Rodrigo.” She blushed, again. “That’s nice to know.” Satisfaction warmed his body. He looked around for a distraction, not for her, but him. “Mariah, this mansion is impressive. God knows, I’ve had a lot of time to explore it while I was waiting for you.” “I’m sorry.” She did look a little sheepish. “That's okay. I didn't mind.” Liar. “I love this place.” Her eyes swept the room. “Shipwrights built it in the early 1900s for Robert Moran. He was a shipbuilder and mayor of Seattle. In his forties, his doctors diagnosed him with a heart condition and gave him only a few years to live. He retired to Orcas Island and built this estate with the same care in which he built his battleships.” “So once he moved here, how long did he live?” “I think he was in his late eighties when he died.” “So the Islands saved his life?” He almost smiled. “The laid-back island lifestyle with a little magic thrown in rescued him. Orcas is known as the mystical island. Did you know that?” “Yeah, you mentioned something about that yesterday.” Relaxing, Rico leaned back against the bench and folded his arms across his stomach. “Do you believe that stuff?” Mariah shrugged. “Sometimes I wonder.” “Did you grow up here?” “In a way. I spent my summers on the farm for as long as I can remember. Actually, I’m from Seattle, born and raised there, but this feels like home.” Rico raised his wine glass and offered a toast. “To beautiful islands and a beautiful woman.” Mariah touched her glass to his and a rosy flush stained her cheeks. That was three times in less than five minutes. Not bad, even for him. He congratulated himself for being such a smooth devil and saying the right things. Maybe he wouldn’t be sleeping alone tonight after all. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how do you know Max?”

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That question caught him off-guard. She must have decided it was time to switch channels to safer programming. No matter, he’d take advantage of the next opportunity and flip back to an adult channel. “Max? We’ve been friends for...I don’t know...a lifetime? Fourteen, fifteen years, I guess. We met when I was in high school. He’s six years older. I sang in a band he had at the time. He’s been with me through all the good and bad stuff.” “I hope the good outweighs the bad.” Rico shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes I’m not sure.” He did know he wasn’t going there. Not now, not with her. “He’s a nice guy. I loved working for him and Carmen. They’re great together. So you used to sing?” Rico laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “That was another life. Long ago.” “Was the band one I would have heard of?” “It's doubtful.” Suspicion flashed in her eyes. She didn't buy it, and who could blame her. “Do you miss it?” “Not most of it. I hated being on the road all the time. Didn’t like the spotlight. Why do you ask?” “Just the expression on your face.” He shrugged. She’d struck a nerve. He set his jaw and closed up. She looked away, probably upset by the coldness in his eyes. Her probing questions about his past made him uncomfortable. He'd made a gross error in judgment by admitting that he used to sing. If she put two and two together, she'd figure out that he was a has-been, someone with a lot of regrets and too many ghosts. He didn’t want her to think that of him. Mariah absently swirled the wine around in her glass. Rico watched her delicate hand and imagined those fingers wrapped around something other than the stem of a goblet. He could be so lucky. Sometimes, he wondered where his brain was buried, other times, he was pretty sure he knew. He was his father’s son. Sighing with resignation, he raised his eyes to hers. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to talk about it.” “That’s okay. I understand. There are things in my life that I don’t like to talk about either.”

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Rico nodded. She had her secrets, and he had his. Maybe before their time together ended, he’d find out what caused the pain and sadness reflected in her green eyes. She hid it well, but he saw through her smiles. She hurt, just as he did. They were two lonely people looking for a safe harbor. Rico put his arm around the back of the bench and hugged her close to his side. She rewarded him with one of her radiant smiles. Her mercurial changes in mood fascinated him, and her dancing eyes bewitched him. “Do you feel it, Rodrigo? Do you feel the magic of this place? Do you feel as if your cares have just drifted away? As if life has slowed down, and you’ve been transported back in time?” She put her hand on his arm and looked up at him. Gazing into her eyes reminded him of floating lazily in an emerald lake on a summer day. She made him feel so warm, so content. He could stay there all day and bask in the sunlight. She cleared her throat. He realized she was waiting for an answer, but he’d forgotten the question. Finally, he pulled it from the murky depths of his memory. “Oh, yeah, I feel it,” he agreed, referring to something completely different. He felt it alright. He felt her, and he wanted to feel more of her. As far as her islands went, he could take them or leave them. “I knew you did.” She squeezed his arm. Man, what a fraud he was in light of her enthusiasm for Mother Nature. Well, if the shoe fit. He’d earned that title in more ways than one. Most of the time, he really didn't know who the real Rico Sanchez was and didn’t care to find out. Her hand on his arm excited his body and one part in particular. What was it with her? Why did most women pale in comparison? Her innocent beauty and unabashed enthusiasm drew him in. No doubt about it. He was in lust. Big time. Of course, his fascination with her had nothing to do with his heart. When it came to romantic relationships, he kept his heart out of the deal. ****

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Mariah sipped her wine then chanced a look at him. Her heart sped up when their eyes met. She loved the way his slow, sexy smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. The man was lethal, absolutely deadly. His thick, unruly hair gave the impression he'd just gotten out of bed. He didn't seem to own a comb. A good stylist would have a field day with that hair. As far as his clothes, well, she wasn’t going there. At least, not tonight. She wanted to ravish him, whatever that meant. She’d fantasized about learning the meaning of that particular word with the right man. Judging by her physical reactions to Rodrigo, he won her body’s vote. She’d never been one to have a summer affair. Actually, she’d never had an affair any time of the year. Unless, you count sleeping with Warren three times, and she chose not to count it. Maybe Eva was right. Maybe the time had come for her to quit being a good girl and live life on the wild side. Throughout dinner, Rodrigo entertained her with stories about his bumbling father, interfering sister, and his business. She wondered about his profession, though. International trade could be anything. He could be a smuggler of drugs or stolen artwork. If his clothes were any indication of his income, he wasn’t very good at whatever he did. As far as the sunglasses and watch, they were probably gifts from clients. Or stolen? Mariah reined in her overactive imagination. Surely, Max and Carmen wouldn’t open up their home to a crook? Yet, the man was hiding something. “Do you like to dance, Mariah?” Rodrigo pulled her out of her thoughts. She smiled and nodded. “I love to dance.” The thought of dancing after such a long time excited her, especially with this scruffy Latin with the espresso eyes. Rodrigo stood and extended his hand to her. “In that case, would you like to dance with me?” “Sí, Señor.” She adopted an exaggerated Spanish accent which made him laugh. “I thought you’d never ask.” He entwined his fingers with hers. His touch was incredibly intimate for mere hand-holding. She tried to pull away, but his hand tightened. Rodrigo’s eyes traveled a meandering path down her body and back up again. This man made love with his eyes better than Warren had with his entire body. Her nipples hardened, and she felt a funny feeling between her legs. Rodrigo led her to the dance floor and steered her to the darkest corner. Once his arms circled her waist, Mariah melted into his warmth. He molded

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her to the length of his lean body. She pressed her breasts against his solid chest. Her arms locked around his neck. Lifting her eyes to his, she burrowed into their mocha depths. She felt warm and safe, cradled in his arms. In truth, she was probably anything but safe. They danced as if they’d been partners their entire life. Rodrigo provided an excellent lead. Mariah followed his every move with ease. They glided across the dance floor, their bodies in unison. She brushed her face against his cheek and inhaled his masculine scent. He smelled of tobacco, soap, and cologne. Was it Calvin Klein? She’d have to ask him. He’d worn that same expensive cologne a few days ago. For the remainder of the evening, they danced almost every dance together. The last dance happened to be one of her favorite songs, a romantic ballad and the infamous Rico Sanchez’s biggest hit. Content, she snuggled into Rodrigo’s arms and whispered in his ear. “I adore this song.” “You do, love?” He held her tighter. He sounded pleased. “Oh, yes,” She laid her head on his shoulder. He’d called her “love”. She suspected that endearment didn’t mean anything to him, but it made her feel good. He probably used it like some people used “honey”. “Were you a Rico Sanchez fan?” “I don’t know if I’d call myself a fan, but I have a couple of his CDs. He had an incredible talent. Too bad he’s not singing or writing songs anymore.” “Yeah. I know.” He buried his face in her silky brown hair. Why did he sound so melancholy? A nagging suspicion tickled the back of her mind, but she tamped it down, warning herself not to tread that dangerous path. Rodrigo was Rodrigo. That was it. The stubble on his face chafed her neck like sandpaper on silk. His roughness against her smoothness did strange things to her insides. He tickled her neck with his breath then his lips followed. His tongue traced a path down to her collarbone, teasing and enticing. A whimper escaped from deep in her throat. “Rigo. Please. The song’s ended.” She stepped out of his arms and back to sanity. He felt so good, so male, so dark and dangerous and sexy, so...so...Latin. Yes, Latin. Most women were suckers for Latin men. Why should she be an exception?

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His hands rubbed her hips. She stared at his throat; any higher would be asking for trouble. One look in those eyes and she’d deny him nothing. “That was the last song.” “Hmmm, I know, but that doesn’t mean the night has to end here.” His husky voice promised rumpled sheets, sweaty bodies, and Spanish sex-talk. The images alone were enough to make a smart girl do dumb things. Mariah pulled away from him. She walked a little unsteadily to their table with Rodrigo on her heels. Wisely, she ignored his invitation even though she wanted to accept. It wasn't like her to sleep with a man she’d just met and barely knew. Unfortunately, with this man, her strongest convictions flew out the window. Her feelings for him were a confused jumble. She wanted to do wild things to him, and she wanted him to do wilder things to her. Yet, she also wanted to run as far away from him as she could. He had no idea what he was getting into with her. She couldn't stand the thought of disappointing him. Rodrigo paid their bill, and they walked to the parking lot. He reached for her hand and wove his fingers around hers. A thrill of excitement pulsated through her body. She didn’t pull away this time. Dancing closely to him for several dances made his touch familiar and welcome. Squeezing his hand, she gazed up at him. His heated look coated her body like warm syrup on pancakes. They walked slowly, reluctant for the night to end. Neither spoke for fear of ruining the mood of the evening. His hand engulfed hers with a firm, gentle strength. Mariah stopped in front of her car then turned to face him. “I had a great time tonight.” “So did I. You’re a fantastic dancer, Mariah. Have you ever done any dancing professionally?” Mariah found that funny, and her laughter rang through the still night. “No, not hardly, but I could ask the same of you.” “Actually, I have.” “Really?” “Yeah, I’ll tell you about it sometime.” “Well, it’s a pleasure to have a dance partner like you.” Rodrigo raised his eyebrows. “You haven’t seen pleasure yet. That was just foreplay.”

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She’d asked for that one with her innocent remark. Rodrigo moved closer. His large hands slipped around her slim waist, and he pulled her to him until her hips were cradled against his. She shifted slightly to avoid the proof of his arousal. “Uh uh, bella,” he whispered in her ear. “Feel what you’ve done to me.” He readjusted her hips so he once more rested against hers. “Rigo, don’t....” One hand cupped her jaw as he compelled her to look up at him. His eyes stripped away layers of emotional barriers and found her very soul. She quivered, making another feeble attempt to put a comfortable distance between them. Desire and determination blazed in his eyes. He was going to kiss her. The thought terrified and exhilarated her. She squirmed. “Not a good idea, baby.” His eyes grew darker. His breathing, heavier. His intent, clearer. His body, harder. Rico bent his head, taking his time. Those chocolate eyes handcuffed her common sense and stuffed it out of the way. His warm breath feathered her lips, as he groaned and drew her closer. That sexy mouth touched hers and melted the last of her resolve. She curled her arms around his neck and leaned into him. Her tension faded away as he slid his lips back and forth across hers in a gentle motion. Mariah gripped him tighter. Shutting her eyes, she lost herself in the sensations caused by the man’s mouth, hands, and body heating her from the outside in. He sucked on her lower lip, drawing it into his mouth and caressing it with a clever, persuading tongue. When her lips parted, his tongue slid inside. The moist sensuality of his mouth enticed her to follow his lead. No longer in control of her body or brain, Mariah moved more insistently against him. Her world tipped on its axis. He held her up, or she’d have flowed like molten lava down his long legs to form a steaming puddle at his feet. Tentatively, she touched her tongue to his. The answering stroke of his tongue seared her insides. His hands kneaded her bottom as he pulled her closer, his hips pressing against hers. Feelings she didn't know she was capable of flared within her. His gentle persuasiveness took on a demanding insistence. She clutched his broad shoulders, swept along for the ride. The wild ride. Rubbing against him like a cat, her body responded to his with an intense longing for

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fulfillment. No, not just a longing, but a demand for fulfillment. It built in degrees until that demand became too great to control. She followed wherever he led, just like when they’d danced. Emotions whirled around her in a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colors. The intensity of his kiss increased several notches, demanding then taking. She met his hot, Latin passion with a wild innocence of her own, matching him stroke for stroke. Did kissing this man offer a preview of what sex with him would be like? If so, she wanted more. No man had ever elicited such blistering desire in her before. She’d always been scared of not measuring up to their expectations, too worried to enjoy herself. Her insecurities dissolved with Rodrigo. Amazed, she realized she really could kiss—the right man. Who would’ve guessed it? Not Warren. He swore kissing her was as exciting as kissing a hunk of raw liver, not a romantic thought. Maybe the right man part was debatable. Maybe Rodrigo was the wrong man in every way except a physical sense. At this point, she didn’t care. Besides, he seemed to like her kisses judging by the way his body rubbed against hers like he wanted to crawl inside. A seed of confidence took root within her. She could do this. She could enjoy it with him. He slipped his hand under her short top. He hesitated, waiting for permission. He didn’t need to ask. She burned for his touch. Surely, he felt her aroused nipples through the thin layers of clothing. So much for her good-girl convictions. Being Rodrigo’s bad girl would be a heck of a lot more fun. Taking his hand in hers, she guided it upward until it was a fraction of an inch from her bra. He didn’t need any additional encouragement. She gripped his waist and wrapped a leg around his muscled thigh, desperate to get closer, to burrow under his skin. They broke the kiss at the same time. Stifling a moan, she opened her mouth against his shoulder. Rodrigo nipped at the tender skin on her neck. Like a marauder, he took what he wanted and left chaos in his wake. She whimpered and pressed more insistently against him. He pushed her bra up to release her breasts, not taking the time to unfasten it. Mariah should have been uncomfortable, but she didn’t notice. She needed him to scratch her itch, light her torch, burn her house down. “Oh, God, Rigo.”

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He dragged his mouth away from her neck. “What do you want, querida?” He caressed the bare skin around one breast. She hungered for more of him, but he avoided touching her where she ached. “Touch me,” she begged, so much for pride. “Where? Rye, tell me where?” he whispered hoarsely, his fingers not quite hitting the target. Her fingernails dug into his back. Her leg tightened around his thigh. Licking his neck, she teased him and listened to him moan her name. “Mariah, tell me what you....” Their world exploded with a loud crash followed by several bangs and thumps. They leapt apart. Mariah’s leg tangled in his thigh, and she stumbled backwards into a bush. She caught the startled look on Rodrigo’s face. Yanking her out of the bush, he cemented her to his side. His eyes darted around, scanning the bushes. If Mariah wouldn’t have been so overwhelmed by lust, she might have considered his reaction funny, even odd. Did he have reason to believe someone was watching him? Rodrigo’s face displayed visible relief when the cause of the disturbance presented itself. A large tabby cat strutted by as if nothing happened. The spell broken, Mariah stepped away a few feet. She rearranged her clothes into a semblance of order. Rodrigo let her go and inspected their surroundings. He seemed disconcerted even rattled. Finally satisfied nothing was amiss, he turned back to her and visibly gathered his composure. “Come home with me tonight, Mariah,” he coaxed, slipping smoothly back into the role of a seducer, though his convictions didn't seem as strong. Maybe the guy was married and feared a private investigator was on his heels. That thought poured cold water on any plans she'd had for the night. After all, her was obviously hiding something. “No.” “What?” Rodrigo couldn’t conceal his astonishment. “I said no.” Rodrigo grinned lazily. “You cannot mean that.” Irritation raced through her. “No means no.” Who did this insufferable, conceited man think he was? Actually, she knew the answer to that. He was the same guy who just had his tongue halfway down her throat. He was also the same guy she’d brazenly encouraged to fondle her in a public parking

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lot. She'd gone mad, taken temporary leave of her sanity. She needed to get away now and get away fast. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rodrigo sounded insulted. She couldn’t blame him for thinking he was about to score, considering the way her body had latched onto his and abandoned all common sense. “It means, Señor Perez, I’m not going to be another notch on your already crowded bedpost.” “How do you know my bedpost is crowded?” She couldn’t answer that question. She just knew. She may not know much about him, but she knew this. The man was supremely confident regarding his prowess with women, also stubborn, but so was she. She wouldn’t do this. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t. It had to be special to both of them, or she wanted no part of it. She had more pride than to be another conquest for him. It meant nothing to him. It meant everything to her. “You’re the type of man who can have any woman he wants.” “Except this one?” “Except this one.” “Why are you denying what you so obviously want?” He attempted to reason with her. “Because it has to be special.” “It will be special.” “You know what I mean. Rodrigo, I don’t have casual affairs. Sex isn’t just recreation to me. Besides, we just met.” She reached up and put her hands on his chest. “Please, give me some time. This has all happened so fast.” He took her hands in his and searched her eyes. “You and I would be good together.” “I don't know.” Mariah broke her eyes away from his penetrating gaze. “Go out with me again tomorrow night.” He bestowed one of his most disarming smiles upon her, and his persuasive charm wore her down. “Okay.” She moved quickly to her car door. Rodrigo reached around to open it for her. As soon as she settled in the seat, he bent down to plant a lingering kiss on her lips. “I look forward to tomorrow night, Mariah.”

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Mariah swallowed and gazed up at him. She was doomed. They both knew it. It was only a matter of time before he wore her down. At least, she'd make the man work for it. He straightened and closed the car door. She glanced at him through the window, waved, and drove down the driveway. She was playing with fire. This man had been around the block a few times, and she’d hardly been off the front porch.

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Chapter 5 The Prediction Rico held his guitar in his lap and lounged in the deck chair. The priceless 1953 Gibson, in mint condition with incomparable tone, had been a gift from Max, his best friend. Max, the man who’d stood by him through heaven and hell and the man who’d married the only woman Rico had ever truly loved. He should have hated him, hated them both, but he couldn't. Rico strummed a few nonsensical bars then waited for inspiration to strike him. Nothing happened, no flash of insight, no sign from some deity, not even one mediocre verse came to mind. Looking up, he studied the spectacular view before him. He tried in vain to see the splendor and magic that Mariah saw in these islands. She’d told him that centuries ago, an ancient mountain range had sunk into the sea and formed them. Mariah loved to talk about her islands, their history, and local folklore. While island history didn’t turn him on, he enjoyed listening to her melodic voice and watching her expressive face. If only a little of the woman’s enthusiasm would wear off on him maybe then he'd find the inspiration he'd been lacking for way too long. He hunched forward and hummed a few bars of a new song. No, that wouldn’t do. He tried again. Nope, that definitely sucked. Dissatisfied, he sat up and rested his chin in his hands, leaning his elbows on the guitar. He wasn’t sure what was worse: his jaded attitude or the frustration he felt every time he tried to put pen to paper. A songwriter without any songs in his soul was pretty pathetic. Make that former songwriter, he reminded himself. He was a businessman now and a somewhat successful one. He hadn’t written a marketable song in almost five years. There’d been a time when so many songs had begged to be born that he couldn’t capture them all on tape or paper. Now, he felt barren, empty, soulless and alone. So very

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alone. Except when he was with Mariah, then he forgot everything for a while. Frustrated, he looked at the water in the peaceful cove below. A large piece of driftwood floated past. Was that him? Adrift and lost in a world he’d once held in the palm of his hand. A world that was now alien to him. Who was he? Sometimes he thought he knew. Other times he hadn’t a clue. Rico’s eyes focused on Max’s yacht moored at the dock, really noticing it for the first time. He used to love the water and boating. There were so many things he used to love. He blew out a discouraged breath. Maybe the water would provide a catalyst for him to find with the real person buried beneath this stranger he’d become. It was worth a try. Hell, anything was worth a try, but only if he could convince Mariah to go with him. She’d managed to unlock his lust. Maybe she could unlock his soul. **** The warm afternoon sun gave way to a cool evening, typical weather for late August in the San Juans. Mariah chose a soft pink sweater that hugged her body and a pair of designer jeans. She prided herself on her good taste in clothes. After all, what client would hire a designer who didn’t know how to dress? Mariah calmed her butterflies as best she could. Tonight was worse than last night. Last night she hadn’t known what to expect. Now she faced the evening with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Rodrigo had made it clear what he wanted out of this thing they had going. She was torn as to what she wanted. She'd tried love, that hadn't panned out. On the other hand, she didn't think she was the kind of woman who could have meaningless affair. It’d have to mean something to her. If she did fall for him, she doubted it would mean as much to Rodrigo, but she'd be left with a broken heart. His rented SUV screeched into her driveway at exactly 7:00 P.M. Gravel flew in all directions as his wheels left skid marks extending several feet. Mariah waited on the front porch until the dust cleared. She’d been ready for almost thirty minutes. She never got ready on time, let alone early. She probably looked too eager, but she didn’t care. Rodrigo jumped out of the SUV and strode toward her. Stopping, he looked her up and down then whistled with appreciation. The man had a gift

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for making her feel as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She curtsied gracefully and walked down the front steps to where he stood. He bowed low with a flourish, playing the game with her. “Thank you.” “No, thank you.” He grinned like a little boy set free in a video arcade. His clothes consisted of his disintegrating jeans, a black leather jacket, a black t-shirt, and cowboy boots. He still hadn’t shaved, and his hair still hadn’t seen a comb all day. That black leather jacket, though—if it wasn’t designer quality, she’d eat her Nordstrom's credit card. Rodrigo placed a hand on her back, guided her to his SUV, and opened the passenger door. Before he shut it, he leaned down to kiss her with great tenderness and sent a tremor through her. On impulse, Mariah touched his cheek with her index finger. She ran it across his stubble and along his jaw. Rodrigo’s eyes burned into hers. He contemplated something for a moment then sighed with resignation. With a shake of his head, he shut the passenger door. It didn’t take an experienced woman to know the man wanted more than he’d just gotten. “Where to, Mariah?” he asked as he started the engine. Mariah looked down at her hands and twisted them in her lap. “My friends, Eva and Jamal, invited us over for a drink. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” She prayed he’d decline the offer. Instead he winked at her and grinned. “Sounds great to me. Just tell me how to get there.” Rodrigo crammed the SUV in gear, and they were off in a cloud of flying dust and gravel. They drove a few minutes in silence before Mariah finally spoke. “Uh, Rigo, before we get to Eva and Jamal’s, I need to warn you about them.” “Why?” “They’re a little...um...different.” What an understatement. Different didn’t begin to describe those two. “Different? Okay, I'm intrigued.” His mocha eyes danced with mischief. “What makes them different? Do they have forty-seven cats in the house, and I’ll be picking cat hair out of my mouth all night? Maybe they’ll subject us to countless hours of home videos from their Grand Canyon vacation? Or they’ve worked out a new routine on their accordions? Dios, they aren’t addicted to Karaoke, are they? Maybe they shower only once a year on a full moon?”

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Mariah doubled over with laughter. “Well, if that’s the case, you’re in luck. We just had a full moon.” “Do they raise geckos?” Rodrigo said with a grin as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Geckos?” Mariah’s eyes grew big in mock horror. “Yeah, you know, cute little guys.... Reptiles. Long tails. Beady little eyes. Live in trees and sell insurance on the side.” Mariah wiped the tears from her eyes and attempted to compose herself. “No, really, none of the above. Do you know you’re goofy?” “Goofy? I’ve been called a lot of things, bella, but I don’t recall goofy being one of them.” “I guess I just bring out the best in you.” She touched his arm and stroked his rock-solid biceps. She was a sucker for those arms of his. Of course, that’s not all she was a sucker for. “You do bring out something in me.” He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. “So what about these two friends of yours? Why are they different?” “They’re free spirits. Eccentric.” Mariah hesitated. Eva was difficult to explain. “Eva thinks she’s a mystic.” “A mystic?” “Yeah, you know, like a psychic?” “I know what a mystic is,” Rodrigo countered. “Do you think she has psychic powers?” “Mostly, I don’t. It’s rumored that she was a top-ranking executive for a Seattle software firm. She had a vision that told her to live a simpler life. She donated her money, stocks, and material possessions to charities. Her stocks were worth millions. Now she works as a masseuse at Rosario resort. She predicts the future, reads palms, does astrology charts, and stuff like that in her home. She doesn’t even own a computer anymore.” “No kidding?” Admiration snuck into his voice. “It takes a lot of guts to give up everything.” “Yeah, it does. Not that I’ve heard any of this directly from Eva, but there aren’t too many secrets on this island among the locals. Eva guards her former life with a vengeance.” Mariah shrugged. “I seem to gravitate to people that are different. I don’t know why.” “Like me?”

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Mariah studied him for a minute. Oh yeah, he was different, all right. She still didn’t have him figured out. He hid his pain and fear behind a wall of confidence and brashness. “You got that right, amigo. I’m forewarned about her. That’s all. She’s a little disconcerting to people who don’t realize what they’re getting into when they first meet her. And there’s one more thing....” “And that is?” His mouth twitched with amusement. “She dresses like a colorblind gypsy.” Rodrigo glanced at her, pretending shock. “My little fashion princess hasn’t been able to reform her?” “I haven’t tried. Yet. Actually, my next project is you.” She gave him the once over with her eyes. In her mind, she pictured a cleaned up and welldressed Rodrigo. Then again, women would be fainting at his feet, and she wouldn't stand a chance. Rodrigo remained oddly silent, not taking the bait. She studied him for a moment. He ought to do something with that hair. It stuck up all over the place. And the way he dressed. How about a shave? He was still gorgeous, no matter how you looked at it. Unfortunately, that sexy stubble wouldn’t give her face any relief from whisker burns tonight. “Are you worried I can’t handle her?” Rodrigo tossed her that cocky, self-confident grin she'd come to know and love. “Well, it’s just that she acts as if she knows something about you that you don’t know. Goes for the shock value. She missed her calling, should have been a writer for one of those supermarket tabloids. It drives me crazy when she gets that mysterious ‘know-all, see-all’ attitude.” “Maybe she thinks she’s your spirit guide?” “She’s more like my spirit pain in the butt.” Rodrigo threw back his head and laughed. “Some people need a spirit pain in the butt to keep them on track.” Mariah ignored that last remark. “That’s not all. There’s Jamal. He used to be a pro football linebacker till he blew out his knee. Now he’s a bartender.” “Did he give all his money away, too?”

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“No, he partied it away. Blew it on women and who knows what else. He portrays this intimidating image, but he’s really a Teddy bear. He’s been with Eva for years, off and on. He's blunt and to the point.” “This should be an interesting night.” “Believe me, it will be.” If she survived it in one piece. Mariah questioned the sanity of her decision to take Rodrigo to Eva and Jamal’s house. **** Eva turned out to be everything Rico expected. Exotically beautiful with her jet black hair and fair skin, her penetrating blue eyes and powerful personality dominated the room. She wore a brightly colored gypsy dress. Jewelry adorned every available space on her wrists, neck, earlobes, and fingers. When she moved, she sounded like an out-of-tune wind chime. The stuff appeared to be quite real, too, no costume jewelry for this woman. Obviously, she hadn’t given everything away when she decided to live a simpler life. She scrutinized him like an alley cat eyeing a fat canary. Dissecting his every weakness, insecurity, and fear, she seemed to be cataloging them for future reference. The woman didn’t miss a thing. They locked eyes. She saw more than he wanted her to see. He looked away first. She knows. He felt a stab of fear. Yet, something in her expression assured him that his secret would be safe with her. For now. Jamal, on the other hand, was her exact opposite, huge, dark, and pure muscle. He moved with a grace that belied his mammoth size. His shaved head and numerous tattoos added to the intimidation factor. The man played it to the hilt too. He towered over Rico and glared down at him. At 6’3”, Rico wasn’t accustomed to that. Knowing a guy like Jamal wouldn’t respect a man who showed any weakness, Rico met his with unwavering confidence and hoped he did a passable job of faking it. Hopefully, the big guy didn’t read minds, too, or he was in deep shit; since he was mentally shaking in his boots. Jamal reached out, and Rico resisted the urge to duck. He received a friendly slap on the back that almost knocked him over. Jamal laughed heartily, getting a kick out of the little guy’s instability.

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“Jamal likes you,” Mariah whispered as she wrapped her fingers around his arm. He smiled down at her. God, the things he did for this woman. They settled into the comfortable living room. Bright upholstery covered the simple furniture. Objects from around the world decorated the walls and shelves. Cascade Bay and the Moran Mansion were visible through the large picture windows. The comfortable, eclectic setting made even a stranger like him feel at home. Jamal served drinks then shot the first salvo. “I’ve been waiting to meet the man that has our Mariah drooling like a St. Bernard lusting over a t-bone steak. I’ve never seen her so worked up. Take my word for it. Several of my former teammates have tried to score with her, instead they fumbled or threw an incomplete pass, know what I mean?” Jamal winked at him. Football wasn’t Rico’s sport, but he understood the references. Did Jamal equate everything in life to football? “Now you, Rodrigo, she’s ready to sack you or get you in the sack.” Mariah’s mouth dropped open in horror. An attractive deep red colored her cheeks. “Jamal!” she admonished him. Rico grinned. This was starting out pretty well as far as he was concerned. “Really? She sure likes to pretend otherwise.” Mariah turned the full force of her murderous gaze on Rico, but he just smiled sweetly at her. “Our near-virgin pretends she’s immune to physical attractions. Fate has brought you together to work out your karma.” “Near virgin, huh?” Rico leaned forward. This was getting more interesting by the second. Eva paused to point at Mariah whose annoyance grew exponentially by the minute. “Beware. She was royalty in another life. In fact, I believe her nickname among her sorority sisters in college was Princess Rye.” “Plenty of guys on the Island have tried to hustle Mariah, too, but she’s eluded them so far,” Jamal added. “Your meeting is no coincidence.” Eva surveyed Rico boldly up and down. “She needs the right man to help release the woman trapped inside.” “I’d like to think that I’m up to that.” Mariah rolled her eyes. “Someone have mercy on me and put me out of my misery, please. What was I thinking to bring you here?”

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“I'm enjoying Eva's insights. You should listen to her. She gives good advice.” “You would say that.” Rico put his arm around her and pulled her closer to him while Mariah pouted. She’d make him pay later. He had no doubt about that. “Rodrigo, don’t fall for her sweet, amenable personality. Underneath it all is an ambitious, strong-willed woman. She’s a Gemini. You never know which twin you’re going to get, but it does make life interesting for man who is easily bored.” This strange woman seemed to have him figured out. He hadn't realized he was so transparent. Perhaps, she just remembered things she'd read about him. “You're a Leo.” Rico concealed his surprise. “Uh, yes, I am.” “It's obvious. You'll be a good match.” “I think so.” “Would all of you quit talking about me like I’m not here?” “Believe me, I'm very aware that you're here.” Rico focused his full attention on her. She turned her head to look at him, and the sparks danced between them. Mariah entertained him and excited him. Her sassiness kept him on his toes. Weak women never held his interest for long, no matter how beautiful they were. Women who gave into his every whim bored him. He’d much rather watch Mariah’s eyes cast green daggers at him when he pushed her buttons. She was damned attractive when she was mad. **** Three hours later, Mariah held on tight as the SUV careened down the winding road toward her farm. “You missed the turn to take me home. Where are we going?” “I don’t know.” Mariah continued to stare at him. She certainly didn’t know where they were going either; on the road or in their relationship, if you could even call it a relationship at this stage.

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“Do you want to go home?” Rico reached for her hand and pried it off the dashboard. “No. It’s still early unless you’re tired. Eva and Jamal wear a person out.” “I’m not tired, not at all.” “How about a walk? Rosario has some great walking trails.” “Okay.” Rodrigo whipped the SUV around in the middle of the road and stepped on it. “Do you always drive like this?” Mariah croaked, gripping her seat. Rodrigo grinned recklessly. “No, I’m trying to keep it tame so I don’t scare you.” Mariah leaned her head against the leather seat. “Thanks for small favors, Rigo.” “Hey, I aim to please.” Rodrigo parked by the marina. They strolled hand-in-hand down a dimly lit path that skirted the edge of a man-made pond shaped like a figure eight. A small overgrown island sat in the center of each half. Low stone walls prevented guests from accidentally taking a dip and doubled as flower planters. Back in the 1920’s, lovers rowed their sweethearts around the pond in canoes. No longer used, the murky waters and overgrown vegetation stood as a silent testament to a simpler era. They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. His hand felt warm and strong in hers. She remembered Eva’s words regarding what she would regret the most. Rodrigo said he’d be on the island a month. Was a month with this man worth a broken heart? Maybe, just maybe, it was. The alternative was not seeing him. That didn’t appeal to her at all. Rodrigo stopped under one of the willow trees. He tugged on Mariah’s hand to pull her around to face him. She didn’t resist. Instead she gazed up at him. The moonlight illuminated his strong features making the hard planes and contours of his face more visible. His arms slipped around her waist. He moved a step closer to her. Mariah wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to the moment. Water lapped against the nearby marina breakwater and frogs croaked in the pond. Stars twinkled in the twilight sky like silver sequins on black velvet.

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Rodrigo gathered her closer. Her heart pounded against his chest. His hand slipped under her sweater and stroked the bare skin on her back. Not a single protest spilled from her lips. When his glance slid to her mouth, she shuddered with delicious anticipation. With an unsteady hand, Mariah touched the caramel skin bared by his open collar. She raked her fingernails lightly through his wiry chest hair. He stood still, allowing her fingers to go where they wanted. All the while, he traced circles on the small of her back. She lifted her head. His eyes glittered dangerously, promising things she could barely imagine. If only she had the guts to take him up on those promises. The vulnerability that came with such intimacy terrified her. But, one kiss couldn’t hurt. She tilted her head in invitation. Without hesitation, he met her halfway. Their tongues entwined. His lips caressed hers. An erotic fever rushed through her bloodstream. The ability to reason escaped her. There was nothing but the taste of him, the smell of him, and the feel of his body against hers. The world twirled around and around underneath her. She clung to him because her legs no longer functioned. Greedy for his touch, she wanted more, needed more. He deepened the kiss, while his mouth devoured and his tongue conquered. Rodrigo tunneled his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer as his tongue plunged deeper. One hand crept under the waistband of her Capri's and stroked bare skin. His kisses demanded more in their intensity. His other hand snaked up her back and expertly undid her bra clasp with a flick of his fingers. He unbuttoned her fly and started to lower the zipper. A small rational section of her mind registered the action. Sanity reared its ugly head. No. No. No. Apprehension overrode her desire. Her survival instincts kicked in. She jerked away so abruptly that he let her go. Dazed, Rodrigo stared at her. He raked one hand through his hair and flexed his fingers as if he couldn’t believe they were empty. His labored breathing and dilated pupils testified to how shamelessly she’d led him on. She was the worst kind of tease. Her actions had promised something she couldn’t deliver. Not tonight, not yet. If ever. “You were messing up my hair.” She offered as an excuse for her abrupt change in attitude.

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“I’d like to mess up more than your hair if you’d give me the chance.” He pulled her to him and nuzzled her neck, obviously ready for Round Two. “Is that all you think about?” She put her hands between them and pushed on his chest. “It’s a guy thing.” “Believe me, I’ve noticed.” He loosened his hold slightly so he could look down at her. “You have lipstick smeared on your cheek.” She made a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. “Baby, you can leave lipstick smears on any part of my body anytime you want.” Mariah frowned. “I wish I could take you up on that.” “Then do it.” His dark eyes turned a shade darker. “I don’t know.” “Tonight.” “I’m not what you’re used to. You don’t understand.” “I don’t know how to take that.” Rodrigo stared down into her troubled eyes. “What is it, bella?” He smoothed the loose strands of hair away from her face with amazing tenderness. Mariah looked away, unable to meet his eyes. She tried to break free, but he held her to him. “Please. This is stupid. I shouldn’t have accepted your first invitation. I’m so confused right now. I don’t know what to do with you.” “I could give you a few hints.” Mariah didn’t take the bait. “Rodrigo, please, can we slow down. I need time.” “Take all the time you need. Just make it quick.” “I'm serious.” His expression unreadable, he sighed then nodded.

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Chapter 6 The Godfather Rico swam with slow, lazy strokes around the pool then flipped onto his back. Bathed by the afternoon sun, he floated in the warm water. His thoughts drifted to Mariah, her smile, her eyes, her hair, her contagious laughter, and that luscious body. Every part of her pretty much did something to every part of him. Yet, one thing confused him. Her touch seemed tentative, inexperienced. Was he reading her correctly? She was beautiful. Surely, she’d had her share of lovers. If she hadn’t, well, he was certainly game for tutoring her. There was a thought to make his day and his nights. His cell phone began its incessant ringing and interrupted his musing. He swam to the edge of the pool and grabbed the obnoxious thing. Its intrusion into his daydreams annoyed him. For once, he’d actually been successful in his attempt to relax. Now this instrument of torture created by modern society slammed him back to reality. He should have switched off the damn thing. “Hello,” he said, out of breath. “Rico? Did I interrupt something? You’re breathless.” He hoisted himself to sit on the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in the water. “Car,” he spoke into the phone, willing his voice to sound even. Despite his best efforts, his heart sped up and his body responded as it always did to his former lover. Damn, just when he was doing a decent job of putting her out of his mind. “How are you, baby?” “I’m fine. Wonderful. I couldn’t be better.” The happiness in her voice twisted his gut. He was no longer the man who made her days or her nights or even counted in her thoughts. His earlier contentment evaporated. “That’s great.” He forced cheerfulness into his voice.

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“Are you alone?” she asked again, as if she didn’t want to inconvenience him. As if that woman could ever inconvenience him. Break his heart into a thousand pieces, yeah, but inconvenience, no way. “Yeah, I’m alone. I’ve been swimming.” He didn’t have to see her to imagine how she looked with her golden blond hair and deep blue eyes. “Well, I don’t want to keep you long, but Max and I agreed you needed to be the first to know.” She bubbled with excitement, and his stomach lurched. Somehow, he knew her good news translated into not-so-good news for him. “Well, tell me. Don’t keep me waiting?” There, did he sound suitably excited? Hell, no. “Oh, Rico. I’m pregnant!” He heard the tears of joy in her voice. Pregnant? Something died inside him, the last ember of his lost love. A door slammed shut and a lock clicked, sealing his fate. Since she’d married Max over a year ago, he’d known they’d never have another chance together. Yet, deep down he’d harbored a small flicker of hope. His heart ached for his loss, and he couldn’t bring himself to be happy for her, which made him the worst kind of heel. She needed a guy like Max, and Max deserved a woman like her. All he'd ever given her was grief. “Rico? Are you still there?” Her sexily husky voice was laced with concern. Once, he’d loved to hear that voice whispering to him in the middle of the night. Now it haunted his dreams and lived in his soul. “Yeah, I’m shocked. Wow. That’s incredible. I’m so happy for you.” And the gossip rags had claimed he couldn’t act. What the hell did they know? “Max and I want you to be the baby’s Godfather.” “I’m speechless.” That was an understatement. “I’m also honored.” There, he’d been noble and gracious, just like a good ex-boyfriend. He listened politely as she shared the details of her pregnancy. Every word she said drove a spike deeper into his heart. He blamed himself, even though he wanted to blame her. This baby could have been his if life had been different. If he had been different. “How are you, Rico? Max and I are worried about you. So is your family.” “They're worried about the gravy train running out of gravy.” “You know how we feel about that. You need to learn to say no.”

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“Easier said than done.” “You are not responsible for them. They are all capable of holding a job and supporting themselves.” He'd heard this all before. Along with the drugs and the drinking, his freeloader family had driven a wedge between them. Only Angel actually worked for her paycheck. “Let's not go there.” “Let's not. How are you doing?” “I’m enjoying my time here.” “I understand you’ve met a woman who dances with horses.” She laughed. The sound made him ache with loneliness and regret. “You’ve been talking to my sister.” “Of course, when could Angel ever keep her mouth shut where you’re concerned?” “She’s just a...a friend. Lots of fun. You know, a summer fling.” Nothing like you and I had together, he thought, downplaying his confused feelings toward Mariah. “Oh, Rico. I pray everyday that you'll find the happiness that I've found.” “I will. Someday.” Even as he said it, he knew he lied. He found it hard to believe he could ever love again like he'd loved Carmen. “Mariah doesn’t know who I am. I told her I’m in the international trade business, which is true. She probably thinks I sell drugs.” “Rico, you’re asking for trouble.” “It’s nice to be with someone who doesn’t have any pre-conceived notions about me.” “Wait a minute.” Carmen hesitated as what he’d said earlier clicked. “Mariah? Our neighbor? The interior designer?” “Yeah, that’s the one.” “Rico, she’s a nice girl. She’s been through enough tragedy. Please don’t break her heart.” “Car, I hate to cut this short, but I must go. Congratulations and thanks for the honor.” He felt a lecture coming on, and he wasn’t in the mood. Rico hung up the phone. He wasn’t like his father who turned love on and off like a water faucet. Years ago he’d trusted Carmen with his heart. Later, in his darkest hour, she’d fled, leaving him to flounder on his own.

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She might as well have ripped his heart out of his chest. Never would anyone get that close to him again. Never. Rico sprang to his feet and paced like a caged lion. He’d been loyal to a fault to his friends and family. Yet when it all played out in the end, his father deceived him and stole his money. Carmen abandoned him, not wanting any part of the scandal. His brother played him for a fool, using the situation to his advantage. His mother, who’d always been there, eloped with her boss and moved to Italy. All of them in their own way betrayed him. Some deliberately, some not. Something snapped inside him. Powerful emotions, smoldering for too long, ignited an uncontrollable inferno. The injustice of the situation enraged him and stoked that wildfire. Raw fury he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in four years exploded in his gut, sliced his soul, and ripped open old wounds. “FUCK YOU!” Rico bellowed over and over at the top of his lungs, as he unleashed all the anger and frustration he’d kept locked inside. “Screw you! All of you. Mierda! I trusted you, Carmen! Gave you everything. Why? Why did you dump me when I needed you most? Ramon, you bastard! I saved you from yourself. Look at the thanks I got, little brother. Dad. Oh, God, Dad. You, most of all. You lied to me then let me suffer the consequences of your lies. Dios! Damn you! DAMN YOU!” Rico ranted like a hellfire-and-brimstone TV preacher on a tirade, and he was just getting warmed up. He continued to yell until he was so hoarse his voice was barely a croak. Trembling with rage, he searched for a new release. He snatched a beer bottle from a nearby table and smashed it against the patio. Spinning around, the Gibson caught his eye. The thing symbolized loyalty, trust, friendship, and all that garbage he used to cherish and give so freely to his friends and family. Oh, yeah, and love. Don’t forget love. The biggest crock of all. “This is for you, Max. Yeah, you. You stuck with me through thick and thin. You have no faults. You’re so frigging perfect. No wonder Carmen loves you. You asshole!” Rico stalked toward the guitar, a big cat ready to pounce. The worthless piece of crap, he couldn’t even write decent music with it anymore. Instead, its presence tortured him by reminding him of what he’d lost. A predatory smile crept across his face.

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His prized possession was about to embark on a new career as driftwood. Grabbing the Gibson by its neck, he whirled around. Like a javelin thrower, he sprinted down to water’s edge by the dock. With a triumphant roar and every ounce of strength his body possessed, he hurled the guitar through the air. It slammed against a piling, bounced twice on the dock, and dove into the water. Rico’s chest heaved from the exertion. He gulped for air. His eyes burned. His body shook. He clenched and unclenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palm. He’d just shown them all. Yes, he had. Hadn’t he? They’d be sorry they’d hurt him. Yes they would. Every one of them. Oh, yeah, he’d gotten his revenge. He caught a glimpse of the Gibson floating in the peaceful cove. The sight of it extinguished his anger as if someone had thrown ice water on him. As he watched, a strong current swept the guitar into the inlet. It bobbed frantically as if calling for help. After several seconds, it disappeared from sight. At first, Rico felt nothing. Numb. Empty. Indifferent. Disconnected. It was gone. Destroyed. One of a kind. Irreplaceable. He'd lost a faithful old friend. His indifference gave way to bitter regret. A profound sadness invaded his senses. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Dios. What had he done? His stomach clenched and knotted. Sweat broke out on his forehead. His breath came in gasps, strangled in his throat. Frantic, Rico tore into the house. He grabbed the binoculars and ran down to the dock, scanning the inlet for the Gibson. Nothing. It had vanished into thin air in the strong current. He sank to the ground and buried his face in his hands. That guitar had been with him since the beginning. He’d coveted it in the window of that pawn shop everyday. Max had bought it for him, spending every last penny they had. When Rico tried to refuse the expensive gift, Max wouldn’t listen. The guitar was priceless, like their friendship. They called it Rico’s good-luck guitar because things changed for them after that. The breaks started happening, the money started coming in. Years later on the night it all came crashing down, Rico had been on the road. He’d forgotten the guitar at home. Not that he believed in that good luck crap or was superstitious.

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To him, the guitar had symbolized unwavering friendship and faith in the face of insurmountable odds. Now, he’d destroyed it in a fit of temper. What an idiot. Max would never forgive him. Or would he? Max had forgiven him a lot of things over the years. Feeling lost and helpless, Rico did the only thing he could think of doing. He went in search of Mariah in hopes she could exorcise the demons that haunted him. **** Mariah found it hard to focus that afternoon as she rode Sueño. Thinking about Rodrigo ruined her concentration. Eva believed in fate. You meet the people you are supposed to meet in your life if you let it happen. There are no coincidences. Was she meant to be with Rodrigo on this island at this time in her life? Should she accept her destiny, and blindly go wherever fate chose to take her? Mariah loosened Sueño’s reins. She shut her eyes and tried to clear her mind of all these conflicting emotions. Without guidance Sueño wandered aimlessly, swerving around the arena as if he’d had too much tequila. “Hey, Lady, you got a license to drive that thing?” Mariah jumped and almost fell out of the saddle. She grabbed Sueño’s mane and hoisted herself back into sitting position. Her mouth thinned with annoyance until she caught Rodrigo leaning against the rail fence. He looked so absolutely gorgeous that her anger transformed to a welcoming smile. With his ever-present five o’clock shadow and thrift shop clothes, he still defined sex appeal the same way rain defined Seattle. He’d look good in anything. Or nothing. Sueño ambled over to Rodrigo and put his head over the fence so his new buddy could scratch it. “Hi,” Rodrigo said softly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Hi.” Her smile turned to a frown. “Are you okay?” Anguish and defeat were stamped on his face. For a brief moment, a door to his soul opened, and he let her inside. She saw everything that he was, had been, and could be. His essence, his uniqueness, his joys, and his sorrow caressed her. She

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knew him. It was profound and unexplainable. Before she could make sense of it, the door slammed shut. His devil-may-care mask slipped in place. “Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” His eyes raked her body appreciatively as he slipped into his self-defined role as a rogue. “I had a great time last night.” “So did I.” He wasn’t fine, and she’d glimpsed the depths of his despair. He cleared his throat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, bella.” Mariah felt immediately wary. “And that is?” “Would you teach me to ride like you do?” “It takes years to learn to ride like this. What do we have? A month?” Rodrigo just shrugged. “I could teach you enough to be able to stay on.” “Okay, I’ll go with that.” “When do you want to start?” “How about now?” Rodrigo pointed at his cowboy boots. “I’m ready.” A giggle bubbled up inside her. The man could be so darned charming. “Okay, cowboy, hop on.” Rodrigo didn’t wait for a second invitation; he scrambled over the fence to Sueño’s side. He stood there looking at the horse, as if expecting him to kneel like a camel. Mariah concentrated on a field of wildflowers beyond the arena, fighting back a snicker. Sueño tilted his head to regard the dude with interest. He most likely thought it would be a cold day in equine Hades before he knelt down in order for anyone to get on his back. Finally Rodrigo spoke. “Exactly, how do I get on?” Mariah was certain Sueño rolled his eyes. She patted her horse reassuringly. The two of them would suffer through this together. “You’ve never been on a horse?” “Uh, no, never. Remember? I’m a city boy.” “Yeah, but not even a pony ride?” “Nope. I was a poor city boy.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re getting a big kick out of this, aren’t you? Both of you.” His gaze passed over Sueño and back to her. Sueño nipped at a fly on his chest and cocked one hind leg to take the weight off it. Feeling itchy, He rubbed his head on Rodrigo’s t-shirt, leaving a big streak of dirt. Rodrigo pushed him away. Sueño ignored him and leaned his hairy body against the man’s chest.

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“Well, it’s just that...that you’re always so smooth and sure of yourself. It’s nice to see you are human.” His face clouded over, as if she’d struck a nerve. “I am human, Mariah. Don’t ever make the mistake of giving me more credit than that.” “Okay.” She showed him how to get on, while Sueño stood patiently with a longsuffering expression on his face. “Now what?” He grinned down at her like a little boy on his first pony ride, which was pretty much the reality of the situation. Mariah demonstrated how to hold the reins. Of course, he took that opportunity to hold her hands and seduce her with his eyes. The man worked the sex angle every chance her got. His cocky attitude concealed his earlier misery, yet it still lurked in the depths of his brown eyes. He put on a brave act, but he couldn’t hide it from her. Who was this man? What troubled him so deeply? She adjusted his stirrups then led him around the arena at a walk. “Close your eyes, Rigo.” Like a good little boy, he complied. “Feel the movement of the horse in your seat, keep your hips loose. Move your seatbones in rhythm with the horse’s hips. Do you feel it?” “Nope. Could you help me?” She adjusted his hips and thighs to make him more secure in the saddle while he stroked her hair. She tried to ignore his fingers slipping through the long strands. “Keep your weight in your heels. Don’t grip with your thighs or pinch with your knees. That’ll pop you right out of the saddle.” “Maybe I should just pretend like I’m having sex.” “With Sueño?” She refused to take the bait. He frowned as he considered that possibility. “Maybe we should practice this without the horse first, so I can get a better sense of my timing and find my rhythm.” “How are you going to learn to ride without being mounted on a horse?” That statement brought a broad grin from him. She’d walked right into his trap. “Baby, I’d much rather mount you.” “You are incorrigible. And impossible. And...” Mariah sighed with resignation.

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“And what?” he prompted. “Impossibly handsome, charming, and good in bed, too. Trust me on that last one.” “I’ll have to since I don’t plan on experiencing it firsthand.” “Oh, baby, give me a chance to show you what my special talents are. You won’t regret it.” This arrogant pseudo-cowboy needed to be taught a lesson. She’d heard enough sexual innuendos for one day. Thank you. Mariah slapped Sueño on the butt. “Hold on, Latin love God!” she yelled as Sueño took off in a brisk jarring trot around the arena. Rigo held onto his mane for dear life while his crotch was pounded unmercifully against the saddle. Mariah marveled at his unique talent for combining Spanish and English obscenities as he told Sueño exactly what he thought of him. “Shit, Rye, stop him! Please! He’s killing me!” Mariah hated to see an over-confident jerk like him reduced to groveling. “Okay, are you going to behave?” “Yes. Yes, I promise! Stop this equine jack hammer before I’m sterilized!” Just for good measure, she let them take one more turn around the arena then signaled for Sueño to stop. Sueño must have figured this dime store cowboy had hammered his back long enough. He screeched to a halt. The guy needed to learn to ride on a Merry-go-round first. A sensitive guy like Sueño shouldn’t be subjected to his bumbling attempts. He should have dumped him and been done with it. Rodrigo yelped as his crotch was jammed against the front of the saddle. He held his hands up in surrender as Mariah approached. “I’ll be good, no more torture. I want to have kids someday. Dammit, Rye. Are you trying to turn me into a gelding?” Laughter bubbled from Mariah’s lips. On a whim, she reached up and hugged Rodrigo’s waist, pressing her cheek against his belly. Leaning down, he held her tightly to him. His chest rumbled with laughter. Once he put his mind to it, Rodrigo caught on quickly. He understood the need to keep his body’s center of gravity in line with the horse’s center of gravity. He stayed in synch with Sueño’s movement at the walk and did a decent job of steering by the time the first lesson ended. Sueño, on the other hand, considered entire ordeal boring and yawned repeatedly. He wondered when the pony ride was going to end.

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“You’re not bad, cowboy,” Mariah told him after he dismounted, and they put Sueño away. “Not bad at all.” Rodrigo grinned back. “I could show you a few things I’m much better at.” Without warning, he pulled Mariah into his arms and gave her one of those deep, wet kisses she was growing to love so much. “You are so adorable,” she blurted out. This man wanted to have a little vacation fling, but she’d jumped off the cliff into the raging waters below not caring if she drowned. She was in over her head and sinking fast. **** Rico stared at Mariah. Her eyes glowed with passion and something else. He knew that look. No, Mariah. Don’t think that. Don’t. I can’t give you anything but sex. That’s all. Let’s keep it simple. Don’t fall for me. I’m no good for you. Hell, I’m no good for myself. His raw emotions ran too close to the surface. Guilt and frustration drove him over the edge. He captured her chin in his large hand. His lips devoured hers without any concern for her comfort. His control disintegrated. He pinned her against a stall door and took possession of her with a hungry intent. Urgency and desperation ate at him from the inside, as he used her to purge Carmen’s stamp on his very soul. Instead of fighting him off or retreating, she matched his desperate passion with her own aching need. Was she driving out her own demons? Her fingers dug into his thick hair, pulling him closer. Their mouths melded together, tongues wildly mating as their breath intermingled. He sucked her tongue into his mouth then nipped at her lips until they were swollen and tender. His mouth traveled across her face, leaving a trail of wet kisses. She kissed his forehead and his eyelids while running her fingers through his unruly hair. His hips moved against hers in an instinctive rhythm. He fastened his teeth on her neck, nipping hard enough that she cried out. He paid no attention. Marking her, he craved something that was his and his, alone. She bit at his earlobe, extracting her revenge and driving him insane. Rico wanted this woman in the worst way. Her wet mouth, full lips, and soft curves brought his body to a fever pitch. He crushed her against him, forcing her to feel the extent of his need. Cradling her butt in his hands, he

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lifted her into the air and sat her on top of a saddle rack. She wrapped her long legs around his waist to keep her balance as he ground his crotch against hers. His body burned hot with desire. He hadn’t experienced this intensity, power, and depth of emotions in a very long time. He fought the feeling, but failed miserably, as she ignited long-dead passions. She made him forget everything else; including the torch he carried for Carmen. “Rigo, I want to help you. Let me help you,” she whispered breathlessly, her mouth against his neck. She wanted to help him? Panting, he pulled away, nagged by a thread of decency. It was just his luck that his conscience decided to make an appearance just when he was about to get lucky. He couldn’t take her for the first time perched on a saddle rack. She deserved better than that. He laid his head on her shoulder, his chest heaving, his brain churning, his cock throbbing. Taking deep breaths, he attempted to regain some semblance of control. Her fingers gently stroked the back of his neck and her long legs gripped his waist. “Please.” She teased him with her hips. “No, not like this. We can’t.” She’d never know what those words cost him. He extracted himself from her embrace. Lifting her off the saddle rack, he set her feet firmly on the floor. This woman captivated him, intrigued him, and turned him on. She challenged his seductive talents, and he loved a good challenge. He had to keep it purely physical so no one got hurt when it ended. Inevitably, it would end because the heartache that came from caring about someone wasn’t worth it. If only he could keep his head in charge. Big or little, it didn’t matter which one, as long as his heart stayed out of it. Yeah, he had oceanfront property in Arizona, too.

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Chapter 7 The Home-Cooked Meal On a foolish whim, Mariah invited Rodrigo to dinner that night. She regretted the invitation the moment the words escaped her mouth. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. What was she thinking to invite temptation to her house? She might as well open the door stark-raving naked, too. Either way the man would interpret this as an invitation to stay the night. She pictured him standing on her front porch with a toothbrush in one hand and clean underwear in the other. Of course, he’d be grinning that dangerously irresistible grin. Even worse, she couldn’t cook to save her soul. Like a lamb being led to slaughter, Rodrigo had no idea what he was getting himself into. Did she want to kill the man or sleep with him? Eating her cooking had brought down many a strong stomach. Sleeping with her wouldn’t exactly impress Rodrigo either if Warren was any judge. After all, if she’d burned up the sheets with her love-making expertise, Warren wouldn’t have felt the need to look elsewhere. She took some solace in that kiss earlier today. Her inexperience had held its own against his experience. He’d been tuned in and turned on. The intensity of it should have frightened her. Yet deep down, Rodrigo would never hurt her, not physically. Instead he drove her wild with a craving to know him in ways she’d never wanted to know a man, while his possessive mouth heated her from the inside out. She’d matched his passion touch for touch, mouth against mouth, and tongue to tongue. He brought it out in her as naturally as breathing. What would sleeping with him be like? Bare skin, straining bodies, wet sheets. She leaned her head against the cupboard door. She’d better stop this right now, or she’d be answering the door in her birthday suit. That would

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be one way to distract him from her atrocious cooking. Sighing, she grabbed the phone book and looked for somewhere to order takeout. Mariah glanced at the clock. She’d daydreamed way too long. There wasn't time to drive anywhere to get takeout and delivery on the island wasn’t an option. Frantically, she dug through her cupboards and refrigerator. Within five minutes she assembled a small assortment of ingredients on the kitchen counter. She smiled to herself. She could do this. She found a cookbook and opened it to the spaghetti page. She stuck a couple baked potatoes in the microwave and set it for twenty minutes. So what if it wasn’t gourmet cuisine. Rodrigo didn’t seem to be a picky eater. **** The prospect of a home-cooked dinner appealed to Rico. If Mariah cooked half as good as she looked, it’d be one heck of a meal. And dessert. He’d volunteered to bring dessert. Maybe he should purchase a little chocolate sauce. Ice cream wouldn’t be necessary, not where he planned on putting that chocolate sauce. He packed a few things needed for an overnight stay in a small bag, making sure he included a few boxes of condoms, checking the box for quantity and smiled. Sí, that should do the trick. Twenty minutes later, Rico wandered around Mariah’s house while she finished dinner. Her tastefully decorated living room contained several pieces of antique oak mission-style furniture. French doors and large windows took advantage of a spectacular view of several small islands and beyond to San Juan Channel. Colorful lawn furniture sat on the deck. He caught sight of something familiar stuck in a bookcase. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t watching, he removed his Yankees baseball cap from its hiding place. Grinning with satisfaction, he shoved it in his coat pocket. A half-dozen framed magazine covers graced one wall. Each cover displayed a home or room designed by Mariah. He’d known she was talented, but he hadn’t realized how talented. Dinner was another story altogether. Mariah placed a plate in front of him with a flourish. Rico’s eyes grew big. Dios. He’d assumed she cooked

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as well as she did everything else. He assumed wrong. It was questionable whether or not the substances on his plate were even edible. Rico shuddered and picked up his fork. Mariah hovered behind him, wringing her hands, and waiting for him to take the first bite. He put the fork down and stalled for time by taking a sip of wine. Controlling his rebellious stomach, he gripped the fork and tentatively inspected the objects lolling around on her good china. At least none of them moved when he jabbed them. Like a game show contestant searching for answers, he attempted to discover the mystery foods' identity. Rico’s sister had learned to cook by using him as her guinea pig. To keep from starving, he’d developed a cast iron stomach and could eat anything. Tonight, his stomach may have met its match. Canned tomato sauce covered a glob of overcooked spaghetti. A slice of American cheese garnished it instead of grated Parmesan cheese. The garlic bread provided an excellent source of charcoal if a person had use for such an item. Maybe he could scratch out a help message on the table top with it. Limp, green stems appeared to be the remains of asparagus boiled to mush. A once fat Idaho potato was a sad, wrinkled reflection of its former self. Whoever married this woman would be wise to confine her to the bedroom and lock her away from the pots and pans, he decided, feeling smugly chauvinistic. Tons of babies would keep her out of the kitchen and in his arms. Rico recovered from that vision with a start. Shit, not his arms and especially not the baby part. Mariah toyed with the food on her plate, but Rico bravely slogged through the meal with his stomach intact. Barely. He’d have to thank his sister for all those years of eating her cooking, and his guru for all that mind-over-matter stuff. After dinner they went outside and sat in the porch swing on the deck. A half moon shone across the water as the waves lapped gently on the rocks and sand below. Mariah laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. Rico put his arm around her and drew her closer, relishing the warmth and comfort he gained from her. After his screwy day, he needed it. She soothed him. Mariah inclined her head to look up at him. She ran her hand across his cheek then placed it on his shoulder. “Rigo, if you could do anything in the world, what would it be?”

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“I did it.” Rico tensed and frowned at her. This was a dangerous line of questioning, especially after this morning’s disaster. She must have sensed his discomfort, but she didn’t back down. She tried to be flippant instead. “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it?” “Yeah, you got that right and then some.” He refused to meet her eyes and toyed with a lock of her hair. “It wasn’t what you thought it would be?” “No, it wasn’t. I mean, at first when it was new, and I was on this high, it was great. Later, it wasn’t anything like I imagined. I guess I got bitter and disillusioned.” “Do you love your job now?” “Do you love yours?” “Yes, I do. I love designing for people, trying to figure out just what suits their needs and personalities. And you?” “I’m good at what I do.” “But do you love it?” Damn, she was nosy. “It’s alright, but it doesn’t set me on fire.” “Then you aren’t doing the thing that makes your soul sing.” “Funny you should choose those words.” She scrutinized him for a long time. “It’s strange. You give away so little of your life, yet sometimes I feel as if I know you as well as I know myself. Why is that?” “I don’t know. It just is. I don’t want to question it. At times I feel the same about you, Rye.” “Tell me why you hurt so much.” She leaned toward him and clutched both of his large hands in her small ones. “I could ask the same of you.” His dark eyes held her in a steady, unwavering gaze. Two could play this game. “Yes, you could. You first.” She met the challenge in his eyes. He sighed with resignation. He didn’t want to talk about this, but she was as stubborn as he was. Besides, the toll taken by the day’s events wore down his ability to resist. “What do you want to know?” “For starters, tell me about growing up.” “My mother raised my younger sister and me pretty much on her own. My father left her when I was eight, traded her in on a younger model.”

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Rico’s lip curled in disgust. “We left Puerto Rico for San Diego. She worked her ass off at two jobs. She was a maid for a wealthy family during the day and cleaned a mall at night with no help from my father. I swore someday I would make enough money so she would never have to work again.” “And your father? Do you see him?” “I didn’t for years. He started coming around when I was sixteen, wanting to be my amigo. I barely tolerated him back then. He’s on his twelfth wife now, all young. He can’t keep his pants zipped.” Rico’s eyes narrowed, reading too much into her concerned expression. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m nothing like my father. I don’t rob the cradle, and I don’t change women like I change clothes. I leave that to my father and my brother.” “Rodrigo, I wasn’t comparing the two of you.” She squeezed his hand. Her touch did odd things to him, like give him strength. “Yeah, thanks.” He marveled at how small her hand looked in his. “I worked when I wasn’t in school. So did my sister. It was tough, but we had each other. My dad had his harem of near-teenagers.” He scowled; he didn’t want to talk about any of this anymore. “Your turn, deal’s a deal.” She took a deep breath. “My dad was a heart surgeon at the University of Washington Hospital. He pioneered some revolutionary methods that have saved thousands of lives. He was a wonderful man with a great sense of humor. He devoted his life to his work and his family. Even as busy as he was, he always found time for us. My mom, she used to be a buyer for Nordstrom.” “Clothes?” “Uh huh.” “Then you come by it honestly.” Mariah blushed and looked away, embarrassed, “Thank you. I used to be a shopaholic. I still have stuff in my closet I've never worn.” She looked down at the dress she wore. “Like this. My mother and I could shop for hours and spends tons of money. Now, I just stay away from Nordstroms.” She laughed. She fiddled with a button on his shirt. “My mom's job took her away from home too much, so she quit, but being a housewife wasn't her thing. She started doing volunteer work. She was an advocate for homeless senior

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citizens and for handicapped kids, did a lot of lobbying and fund-raising. She even spoke to the Senate in Washington DC. My mother could never sit still for long. She had this great sense of social conscience.” Mariah smiled wistfully. “One time she enlisted the entire Seattle Sonics basketball team to help her with a fund raiser. Every one of them participated. Those huge guys did anything she asked. They didn’t dare cross her. She could be formidable when she was on a mission. That’s what Dad and I called them, her missions.” “Are you an only child?” She smiled a sad smile. “Yes.” “What happened to your parents, Rye?” He’d been wanting, yet dreading, to ask that question for a long time. She always referred to her parents in the past tense. “Eight years ago, they were flying over the mountains to go to a football game. There was a freak storm. Dad’s plane crashed before they ever got there. Even now when something really good or really bad happens to me, I find myself reaching for the phone to call them so I can share it with them. Then it hits me.” She swallowed but stumbled on. “There I stand, holding the phone in my hand, remembering they aren’t there to call anymore.” Mariah’s voice choked and tears ran down her face. “I’m sorry. Even after all this time it hurts so much.” Rico felt like an insensitive ass whining about his family. At least he still had one. She’d lost both of her parents. He pulled her closer as she buried her face in his chest. He held her, stroked her hair, and whispered words of comfort in Spanish. He started singing an old lullaby. He felt better hearing it. He hoped she did, too. He rocked her back and forth in the porch swing. She sobbed quietly in his arms, soaking his shirt with her tears. Only a true ass would take advantage of her right now. In her vulnerable state, she wouldn’t resist. Still, he couldn’t do it, much as he’d love to get between the sheets with her. After a while she grew quiet in his arms. He gazed down at her. Tears streaked her pretty face and her makeup had run, leaving dark circles under her eyes. He vowed to keep her away from mirrors. “What was that you were singing? It was beautiful.” Her voice sounded raw.

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He smiled tenderly at her. “It’s an Irish lullaby my mother used to sing to me. When she finished her night job, she tiptoed into my room to make sure I was alright. She’d sing it to me every night. No matter how dead asleep I was, I always knew when she was there.” Mariah giggled and gave him a teary smile, “Irish?” “Yeah, my mother’s Irish along with who knows what else. You know, the great American melting pot.” “Really? So you might have an Irish temper not a Latin temper?” She bantered with him. “Yeah, probably about half and half.” “Your mother must love you very much.” “Yeah, she does.” “Do you see her often?” “Unfortunately, no. She’s remarried and lives in Italy. I don’t get to see her nearly as much as I’d like.” “How about your father?” “We run the business together. Actually, I run the business, and he tries to run it into the ground. He has the opposite of the Midas touch, everything he touches turns to shit.” Mariah stifled a laugh. “You mentioned a brother. Does he work for you, too?” “My brother? No.” He stiffened. “Oh, Rodrigo. Why?” “He’s a little shit. He betrayed me. Tried to ruin me to further his career.” He looked away from her, tense and irritated. “But you miss him.” “Bull.” “I can see it in your eyes.” “I want nothing to do with him.” “Yes, you do. You need to reconcile with him. Life’s too short. Take it from someone who knows.” She ran her fingers across his stubble, shaking her head. “You need to forgive him for whatever he did. You could wake up one morning and find out he’s not there anymore.” Rico shrugged and shifted his body. This woman couldn't be for real. She really subscribe to all that forgiveness crap. A lone tear trickled down

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her face. He wiped it away with his thumb. “Are you alright?” He wondered if her tears were for him or for her lost family. Mariah sat up straighter, pulling away from him. “I’m fine. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I’m not usually this emotional.” “You don’t have to apologize to me, bella. I didn’t mind.” “You’re a nice man, Rodrigo Perez.” “Thank you.” Coming from her that was the ultimate compliment, not that he’d earned it. That box of condoms wasn’t going to see any action tonight. **** Rico stared out the window into the cove below. He wandered around the big house, lonely and out of sorts. For over two weeks, he’d spent his evenings with Mariah. She’d left for Seattle this morning and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. She hoped to purchase some rare antiques for a client at an estate sale. Things were heating up between them. It wouldn’t take much more persuasion on his part to take their relationship to the next level. The anticipation was almost more than he could handle. He needed to get laid before she sent him to an early grave. The woman teased and tormented him, took him to the edge, then said stop. He didn’t think she meant to be such a tease, but it didn’t make it any easier on him. She panicked at a certain point and couldn’t go through with it. The woman was full of contradictions, which he found intriguing. Typical Gemini, he thought. She was shy, yet bold. She could be the most stubborn woman at times and at others, reasonable and cooperative. She was energetic and bubbly or quiet and reflective. She could enjoy the simplest things, laugh at the corniest jokes; and cry over a sappy movie. He truly enjoyed her company, her ready smile, and her quick wit. His cell phone rang. He took it outside and slumped in a deck chair. Damn, it was Angel again. “Hi, Angel, what’s up?” He attempted to keep his voice light so she wouldn’t try to psychoanalyze why he sounded depressed. “Hola, big brother. What’s new with your horse dancer?” Rico laughed in spite of his sour mood. “She’s teaching me to ride.”

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“You? Ride a horse? Now that I’d like to see.” “I’m good at it. She says I’m a natural. I've even graduated to grooming and saddling my own horse. Not bad for a gringo.” “You, the consummate city boy, on a horse? I could sell tickets to that.” “I doubt anyone would waste money on me.” “Rico, you must get beyond your self-pity. It does get old.” “You must get beyond your lecturing unless you want to work for a university.” Unaffected, she laughed. “So where is she tonight?” “She had to go to Seattle today for an estate sale. She’ll be back tomorrow.” “So things are going well?” “Yeah, great.” Using that sixth sense that overbearing sisters possessed, Angel read his mind. She erupted into peals of laughter. “Oh my God, Rico! You haven’t gotten her in the sack yet, have you?” Rico growled under his breath in Spanish which made Angel squeal with delight. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. They’d steamed up their share of windows every night on his SUV, but she never invited him in when he brought her home. Instead, she left him sitting in his SUV with a raging hard-on, while she escaped to the safety of her house. It drove him crazy. Yet, he kept going back for more. Angel's wicked laughter jerked him back to the present. “You haven’t gotten any! That’s great, absolutely great. She’s my kind of woman. Hold out, honey, don’t give him what he wants.” “Thanks, Angel. I’ll be sure to introduce the two of you the next chance I get so you can give her more useful advice. Did you call to give me shit, or did you have some other purpose?” Angel cleared her throat as she attempted to contain her mirth. “Yes, I did. I wanted to be the first to congratulate you! I hear you’re going to be a godfather.” “Uh, yeah.” Leave it to Angel to rip open old, raw wounds. “Rico, you don’t sound too happy about Carmen’s pregnancy.” “Of course, I’m happy. I’m thrilled.” “You can't still be hooked on her?” “It’s over between us. It has been for a long while.”

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He heard her exasperated sigh. “Grow up, Rico. You’ve made your romance with Carmen into something it never was. Your imagination is better than reality.” Angel saw through every lie he’d ever attempted to tell. “Carmen and I had something special.” Hell, almost sacred. “Ha. You two fought like cats and dogs. Maybe the sex was special. I can’t vouch for that, but you need more than sex to build a long-term relationship. Your relationship gave the tabloids fodder for years.” “We fought because the making up was so much fun.” “You and Carmen were like oil and water. Oh, yeah, when someone sets fire to oil on water, it burns alright, but only on the surface. Underneath, there’s nothing. No substance to your relationship. Carmen wasn’t the right woman for you. You weren’t the right man for her. When will you wake up and see that?” Rico admitted nothing, not to Angel and not to himself. His workaholic habits had split them in two. Carmen hated his long hours and the lack of privacy in their lives. The stress took its toll on an already rocky relationship until she cracked under the pressure, told him she didn’t love him, and ran away. At first, he didn’t believe it. She’d be back, she always came back. That time he was wrong. He hadn’t counted Max into the equation. “Rico, are you listening to me?” “Do I have a choice?” “No. You were addicted to your music, now you’re addicted to that import business.” “If I don’t keep one step ahead of Eduardo and his disastrous deals, we’ll all end up in the poorhouse.” “Rico, you love to work. It’s something you think you can control. Unlike your personal life.” “My personal life is just fine. Couldn’t be better.” Rico heard his sister breathe deeply. Uh oh, now he’d done it. She was bringing out the big guns. “Okay, Rico. I’m tired of coddling you. I’m going to tell you some things I know you don’t want to hear.” “Spare me. I don’t need it.” “You’re going to listen anyway. If you hang up on me, I’ll hunt you down.” Rico groaned.

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“Carmen is a symptom of the problem. She’s not the problem. You know that. It’s just easier to focus on her than it is to fix what’s really ailing you.” “And what might that be, Dr. Freud?” Rico asked sarcastically. “You. You feel stilted, smothered, forced into a box. Trapped.” “I am trapped by my fucking family, by my fucking past, and by my fucking future!” His infamous temper bubbled on the surface, threatening to boil over. She’d hit a nerve, a big one. “Then do something about it. Tell those worthless free-loading relatives of ours to find jobs. Tell Dad to go make his own way in the world.” “You expect me to kick them out on the streets. How could I do that to them?” “What about what they do to you? What about your creativity, your passion, your soul? I watch you die a little each day, and I cry for the man you were.” “Really? Would that be the man on drugs? The man that spent a good portion of his day drunk or high?” “You know what I mean. What happened to Rico? What about the artist, the songwriter? What happened to the guy who wrote songs that made people laugh and cry and feel? Songs with real meaning.” “I haven’t written any songs in a long time.” “You gave up.” “I can't find the inspiration anymore.” “Rico, forget about Carmen. Dig deeper than that. Find out who you really are because you aren’t the person you imagine yourself to be.” “I don’t know how to do that.” He felt defeated and helpless. “What about owning your own record label? You’ve always dreamed of doing that.” “That’s ridiculous. I don’t have the time to run a recording company, let alone the resources to start one.” “Excuses.” Angelina snorted. “You’re scared. You’d rather be miserable than take risks. Carmen is a classic example of that. Rather than find a more appropriate girlfriend, you kept going back to the same one over and over, even though it obviously didn’t work the first time or the second time or the third...”

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Rico pushed the End button on his cell phone and turned off the power switch. He’d heard enough. Let her hunt him down if she wanted.

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Chapter 8 The Gift The Washington State ferry crossed Rosario Strait bound for the San Juans via Thatcher Pass. Mariah took a seat at an empty booth by the window and concentrated on balancing her checkbook. She hated that particular chore, but she needed to assess the havoc wreaked upon her bank account by this little trip to Seattle. If only she’d stayed away from Nordstroms. The small mountain of packages in the trunk of her car attested to her whirlwind affair with Calvin, Giorgio, and Christian. Besides, everything had been on sale, and she couldn’t wait to see Rico wearing the shirt she’d purchased. With an exasperated sigh, she stared at the figures in her checkbook. She’d have to transfer money from her depleted savings account to cover some of those checks. She’d work her fanny off next week and hope the Anderson family paid her when she presented them with the bill. Frugal was not in Mariah's vocabulary. She had good intentions to save money, but then something in a store window would catch her eye, or she'd find a bargain on Ebay. She'd depleted the money she'd gotten from her parents' estate, not that there'd been much as the bulk went to the charity. The taxes on all this waterfront acreage were killing her, not to mention the upkeep on the horse farm. She feared her days of high credit ratings were numbered. She needed to find some new clients and sell a few horses. That would hold the wolves at bay for a while longer. To make things worse, her aunt had left the farm in a precarious financial state. Dear Aunt Rose never paid a bill unless the creditors bit at her heels. She couldn’t be bothered with such insignificant drivel. Now Mariah was left to deal with the fallout.

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Thinking about money depressed her. She picked up an old copy of People magazine someone had left on the table. Flipping through it, she paused at an article titled, “Where are they now?” A picture of Rico Sanchez caught her eye. Her heart caught in her throat. Her lungs forgot to take in air. Those eyes. Those expressive brown eyes. She shook her head and stared again. It couldn't be. She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to calm her churning stomach. Getting hold of herself, she opened her eyes. She looked at the picture again. Her talent for denial shifted into overdrive. Rodrigo looked like Rico Sanchez. So what? Lots of people looked like celebrities. It didn’t mean anything. This was her time with him, and she was going to make the best of it. If he was someone other than he pretended to be, she didn’t want to know. It was too late now, and it wasn’t going to change how she felt about him. She’d ride this ride wherever it took her and to heck with the rest of the world. She tossed the magazine in a nearby wastebasket, mustered up her Scarlett mind-set, and promised herself she wouldn’t cross that bridge again. In fact, she wouldn’t even think about it tomorrow. **** “When do you expect Mariah back?” Eva worked on the knots in Rico's shoulders. He lay naked on his stomach. A white towel covered his butt. “This afternoon. She missed the morning ferry.” He turned his head sideways on the pillow to watch Eva out of the corner of his eye. Eva’s professional demeanor surprised him, as did her great hands. He’d been worked on by the best. She could have held her own with any one of them. Her small hands were strong and competent. Unfortunately, his tight muscles resisted her attempts to relax them. He’d been like this for too long. He shut his eyes and let her do her job. Every once in a while, she’d hit a particularly tender spot, and he’d groan. “She was shopping.”

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“I’ll bet she was.” A slow smile spread across Rico’s face as he imagined her loaded down with shopping bags. “We’re boating to Roche Harbor tomorrow for an early dinner. I’m borrowing Max’s yacht. She doesn’t know it yet. It’s a surprise.” “Good. You must watch for the Orca whales.” Rico recognized that tone. Eva was about to share some psychic revelation. “Really? Why?” “They’re the guardians of your soul.” She couldn’t see him roll his eyes. “I don’t think I need an animal to protect my soul.” “You’ll see. They hold special meaning to you.” She pinched a nerve and he stiffened. “They can help you find what you’ve lost.” “I didn’t lose anything.” He bristled like a porcupine. She didn’t respond, which suited him just fine. The woman was as loony as they came. “How are the riding lessons going? Mariah says you’ve caught on quickly.” “I think I have. I’m lucky that I’m coordinated, but the credit really goes to Mariah. She’s great at explaining things. Very patient.” “Mariah says horses are the best teachers.” “Yeah, Sueño’s been great, too. He puts up with all of it. I think he actually likes me.” “Sueño appreciates genuine people. He senses there’s something good between the two of you, and he approves of it.” “You’ve had a conversation with Sueño?” He wondered why he was surprised. “Of course. Several, really,” Eva said with that tolerant voice she adopted whenever she talked to neophytes. “He’s very devoted to Mariah. He would do anything for her.” “You read animals’ minds?” Rico struggled to keep the skepticism out of his voice. Eva ignored his cynicism and continued patiently. “Yes, to a point. Horses don’t send thoughts or words. They send images, pictures of what they want to communicate to me. To be open to their images, I clear my mind then I decipher their mental pictures. Obviously, my messages to them have to be in images also. As humans, we have too much interference going

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on in our minds. Animals find that disturbing and distracting. When I first communicate with them they are often reluctant to let me in until they trust my images. Do you have animals?” “Dogs. My sister takes care of them when I’m gone.” Of course, his dogs barely recognized him anymore, another drawback of his workaholic lifestyle. “I can communicate with them sometime if you want.” “Thanks for the offer. Next time I want to find out what kind of dog food to buy, I’ll give you a call.” “You’re humoring me.” Rico pressed his face into the pillow and said nothing. “Mariah has the gift, too, you know. She just doesn’t trust it yet. That’s why she rides as if she’s a part of the horse. She’s perceptive, very intuitive.” Rico didn’t have a reply for that, so he continued to keep his mouth shut. “You’re missing something. You threw it away.” “Huh?” What the hell was this wacko woman talking about now? Surely not the Gibson guitar? The saltwater had ruined it long ago, wherever it was. “It’ll come back to you if you make the right decisions.” “Uh, Okay. Great. I’ll look forward to it.” This whole conversation creeped him out. “You’re holding your tension in your shoulders.” Eva noted as she worked on his shoulders and back. Rico winced as she kneaded a particularly deep knot. “You work out.” “Sí, I try to every day.” “It’s obvious.” “Thanks, I think.” “A portion of your tension is sexual. The remainder caused by frustration with your life. We both know who frustrates you sexually. Beyond that, what else causes you such intense frustration?” “You, for one.” “You haven't consummated your relationship with Mariah.” “You tell me, you're the psychic.” “You’re close.” Eva was unperturbed by his annoyance. “What makes you think I’m close?”

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“Because of the way you two are together.” “There’s something wrong. I just don’t know what. Every time we get to a certain point, she freezes up and stops me. It’s so abrupt, it’s weird. Like she’s really turned on then she just turns off, like a light switch.” He couldn’t believe he was telling this woman intimate details about his love life. “Have you talked to her about it?” “She says she needs time. She’s afraid, but sometimes I think she’s afraid of herself. She’s a beautiful woman, yet she doesn’t know it.” “She’s only had one lover. It was not a good experience.” “I figured it was something like that. Did he hurt her?” Rico’s hands tightened into fists. “Relax, Rodrigo. Breathe. Let go.” Eva sighed. “What about this guy?” “Warren, her ex-fiancé, was not a sympathetic lover. As far as the details, she needs to tell you that in her own time. You’re a classic Leo.” Eva smoothly changed the subject as she worked on the backs of his calves. “I don't believe in that stuff.” “You should. You would gain great insights into yourself and others. You have that Leo stubborn pride and an overwhelming need to control your life, be the king of your own jungle.” “Whatever.” He hated being psychoanalyzed, especially by an amateur. He shut his eyes and shut her out, now if she'd only shut up. Rico enjoyed ten minutes of blissful silence. He was drifting off when she chose to jerk him back to reality. “I know your true identity.” “Clark Kent?” “You are being evasive.” Rico let out a long breath. “I know you know. I could tell by the way you looked at me the first time we met. How did you figure it out?” “It was the eyes. I was a fan. Actually, I’m surprised Mariah hasn’t figured it out.” “Are you going to tell her?” “No, I’m not. I’ll leave that up to you. Your deception could end your relationship before it starts.”

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“Are you sure?” His stomach sank to the floor. He didn't want to hear this. “Absolutely. You’ve been lying to her. That’s the worst thing you could do. She’s been there before with a man. When she finds out, she may refuse to see you. Mariah has mastered self-protection. She’s lost enough people in her life that it’s become a defense against getting hurt too deeply. She doesn’t let people in easily. You slipped past her guard.” “I’m stubborn and persistent.” Rico frowned as thoughts swirled around in his head. “I never meant to lie to her. It’s just that people treat me so differently when they know who I am. I wanted to be liked or disliked for me, for the person inside.” “Really? And who is that person?” Rico ignored her. Even if he knew the answer, he wouldn’t have told her. “Why didn’t you defend yourself? Why did you let the press drag you through the mud?” “How can you stop them? Once they get wind of a juicy story, they go after it like rabid dogs. I did it to myself.” “How are you handling it now?” “Me? I'm doing okay. I'm clean. No drugs. I don't party or stay out late. I'm actually quite boring. I hated that life. I hated the fishbowl. I didn’t want to be gone so much, hated living in hotels all the time. What I really wanted was to devote my time to writing songs, not singing or performing, but everyone depended on me. I couldn't let them down.” “Everyone?” “My family, father, aunts, uncles, cousins. I take care of them. No relative of mine will ever live in poverty if I can prevent it.” “That's a noble, but difficult promise to make.” “I do okay.” She didn't believe him. “You are not responsible for them. You've done enough.” “That's my business.” “You haven’t been able to write any songs.” How did she figure that out? He must’ve given her some subtle clue. “Not yet, but I will.” “You have to find inner peace in order to set your creative side free.”

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“Are you almost done?” He’d heard enough. “Yes, almost. What do you want from Mariah?” “Entertainment and companionship. Nothing more.” Irritation ran through him, irritation with this prying woman and irritation with himself for answering her questions. “Hmmm.” “Aren’t you worried that I’m going to hurt her?” he accused, hoping to push her buttons. “You are going to hurt her,” Eva predicted in her superior, all-knowing voice. “You’ve convinced yourself that you aren’t looking for a lasting relationship. You intend to love her and leave her.” Rico snorted at this woman’s presumptuous attitude. No wonder she irritated Mariah at times. “And that doesn’t bother you? You are her friend.” “Mariah plays it too safe, Rico. Even though I don’t want to see her hurt, sometimes it’s the painful things in life that force us to grow, to become better people, to reach our potential. She’s strong, and she’s a survivor.” “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger?” Cynicism crept into his voice. “Something like that. Your paths were meant to cross. It is her fate and yours. You need this experience with her, Rico. The most important things in life come with a very high price—your heart. How much are you willing to risk? How much are you willing to compromise? What do you really want out of the rest of your life? Right now, you’re frustrated because you’re not doing what you want to do. A Leo, first and foremost, needs to be in control. You’re at a crossroad. The decisions you make affect the rest of your life. Some may be reversible, some may not.” “I don’t want a serious relationship. Women want more than I am willing to give. Besides, my business consumes my life. After my job, I don’t have anything left for a woman.” “Rico, right now, you don’t have anything left in you for you.” Rico met her revelations with stone-cold silence. “She isn’t the love of your life. You’re deluding yourself about her.” “Huh?” He started to roll over in order to confront her. With surprising strength, Eva pushed him back down on the table. “What are you talking about?” His temper hovered between irritation and all-out fury. “Carmen.”

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“Oh, God. Why did you have to bring her into this conversation?” He buried his face in the pillow, praying this annoying woman would shut up. “It’s necessary to help you on your road to self-exploration.” “Look, Eva. I’ll explore my life at my own pace. I don’t need you to help me. As for my relationship with Carmen, it’s over. We’re just friends. I’ve come to terms with my place in her life. And my career, everything is fine. It couldn’t be better. I love what I do.” Rico’s words sounded hollow, even to him. He wasn’t fooling Eva either. “You don’t have to convince me. You have to convince yourself. I’m not the one who has to live your life.” **** “Rigo, we’re in five feet of water,” Mariah consulted the GPS and nautical chart. “You’re out of the channel and too close to that sandbar. Are you sure you've done this before?” She held her breath as Rodrigo piloted the small yacht through the narrow passage. She suspected it wasn’t skill but dumb luck that kept him from hitting a rock or running them aground. “Of course, I have. I crewed on yachts three times bigger than this when I was a teenager in Los Angeles. How long is this? Fifty feet?” “It’s a 48-foot Tollycraft.” Rodrigo stared at her, “How do you know that?” “I grew up with boats. My dad boated for relaxation. Our last one was a Tolly. They were some of the best boats made in the Northwest. I boated all over these waters and Puget Sound in one bigger than this.” “Great, you’ll make a good first mate.” “Admiral,” Mariah corrected. “You’re sure Max doesn’t mind you taking his boat out?” “Rye, quit worrying. He doesn’t care. He’s offered it to me on several occasions. Besides, this is just a day trip to Roche Harbor. What is it, about an hour away?” “If you pilot a boat like you drive that SUV, it’ll be about fifteen minutes if we don’t hit something and sink.” Taking no offense, Rodrigo laughed. “Hey, we’ll have an early dinner and be back before dark.” An hour later, they pulled into Roche Harbor on San Juan Island.

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Mariah stood on the bow, ready to hand their dock lines to a smiling dock boy standing on the end of the finger pier. A stiff gust of wind blew across the water and caught the large boat. Rodrigo seemed oblivious and didn’t compensate for it. They were coming in too fast. Mariah held her breath and gripped the side railing on the boat’s bow. In an attempt to escape the fiberglass monstrosity bearing down on him, the dock boy started backing up. The poor kid fell backwards into the frigid water. The boat shuddered as Rodrigo rammed all 42,000 pounds into the dock. Looking down, Mariah expected to see the dock splintered into a million pieces. Dented and a little lopsided, it still floated. Obviously, the dock was stronger than her stomach. The no-longer friendly dock boy sputtered and cursed as he heaved himself out of the water. Without a word, he grabbed the line she handed him. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” She bestowed her most radiant smile on him. It didn't work. The dock boy grumbled something unintelligible. His sodden clothes weighed him down. Salt water ran off his body and puddled in a pool at his feet. Rodrigo leaped down the stairs from the flying bridge onto the dock. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I’m not used to this boat. You okay?” He reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Mariah couldn’t see what kind of bill he handed the kid, but it improved the kid’s attitude 100 percent. Her sexy Latin finished tying off the boat as she stepped onto the dock. Surreptitiously, she double-checked his tie job. “I am as experienced at piloting boats as I am making love.” “If you're trying to impress me, it's not working. You rammed into that dock at full speed. What does that say about your love-making ability?” Unaffected, Rodrigo moved to stand beside her. He pulled her close to him and whispered in her ear. “If that’s the way you like it, amor, I can accommodate.” He hooked a finger on the waistband of her shorts and stroked her bare skin. Mariah sobered. “I don’t know how I like it.” Or even if I like it. Rodrigo placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “You’d like it with me. I’d make sure of that.” His dark eyes bored into hers, full of erotic promises and fantasies. “You don’t understand.”

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“Try me.” He slid the rest of his fingers under the waistband of her lowriding shorts and stroked the skin between her hip and belly button. Mariah attempted to pull away, but he fastened her to his side with one strong arm. “You know I’m going to have you. It’s only a matter of time.” His voice dipped to a husky rasp that made her heart thump and other parts of her body react in inappropriate ways. “Maybe you don’t have that much time.” “I’ll make the time. It’ll be worth it.” Mariah’s heart sank. Essentially, he’d just told her that as soon as he got what he wanted, he’d be gone. “I couldn’t please you.” “Let’s worry about you first. Looking at your naked body spread out on silk sheets would be more than enough to please me.” He bent down and touched his lips to hers, slipping his tongue inside her mouth. Wrapping her arms around his neck, her tongue entwined with his. She inhaled the scent of his cologne and savored the wetness of his mouth. The gentle strength in his arms promised protection and safety. She leaned her softness into his hardness. Rodrigo drew back slightly, his half-lidded eyes heavy with lust. “You do please me, Rye.” “Don’t you think you should turn off the boat engines before we asphyxiate ourselves and half the dock?” Mariah pulled away and smoothed her clothes. She glanced around. A small audience of dock boys and girls gawked at them. **** They filled themselves to bursting with an excellent dinner at the Roche Harbor Restaurant. Rico managed to get the boat away from the dock and out of the marina without doing bodily harm to anyone or anything. “Rigo, would you like to take the long way around and maybe see some whales?” “Whatever you say.” Whales didn’t interest him but spending more time with her did. He'd rather stay overnight at Roche Harbor, cooped up in a boat with her until morning would have done wonders for his sex life. She was having none of that.

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They motored through Mosquito Pass. The narrow passage had been named after the Mosquito Fleet, a small fleet of ferries that once served the San Juan Islands. The Straits of Juan De Fuca opened up before them. Ocean-going ships entered and exited Puget Sound through this large body of water, approximately twenty-two miles wide. A good sailor respected the straits and listened carefully to weather reports before venturing out into the unprotected waters. Today, the open water was smooth as glass. “Aren't the Olympics beautiful?” Mariah’s eyes lit up and her face became animated. Rico obediently looked at the tall craggy peaks rising from the mainland on the opposite side of the Straits. “Yeah. They’re beautiful.” “Have you ever been to the Olympic National Forest?” “Can’t say that I have.” He hadn't realized she was such a nature freak. “Oh, you must go sometime. You need to see Washington’s rain forests. They’ll humble you. Those old-growth trees are so tall, you can’t see the tops of them. Their trunks are as big around as a car.” He tried to picture a tree that big, but his imagination fell short. Surely, they were some Northwest myth like Sasquatch and Paul Bunyon. Besides, Humbled by a tree? He didn’t think so. “Were you a tourist guide in another life?” Mariah rewarded his lame joke with merry laughter. She kissed his cheek and gazed into his eyes. Something she saw there must have disturbed her because her smile slid off her face. “What’s wrong, Rodrigo?” She snaked her arm around his waist and leaned into him. “Nothing, bella. Nothing a little sex wouldn’t cure.” “Do you ever think about anything but sex?” “I try not to. Look, Rye, really, I’m fine. A little tired.” “Okay.” She accepted his answer but didn’t look convinced. Rico steered the Carmelinda east along the shoreline of San Juan Island. Mariah scanned the horizon with her binoculars in search of whales. The woman was obsessed with those things. Mariah froze, refocused her binoculars and looked again. She jumped up and down like a kid spotting Mickey Mouse at Disneyland. “Rico, I see them! Check it out! They’re coming our way, an entire pod of Orcas!” She leaned over the rail and pointed to some distant point on the horizon.

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Rico played along and looked through his binoculars. He stifled a yawn. They were just large fish. Okay, actually mammals, but they looked like fish. “Can you spot their fins?” she asked. “Uh, yeah, I can.” He saw fins, alright. Lots of them, large black ones, slicing through the water like sharks. The creatures headed straight for their boat. Shit. They did call them killer whales. His eyes narrowed as the fins bore down on their boat. How could something that large move that fast? “Do those things ever attack boats?” Mariah laughed. “You don’t get out much, do you?” Rico didn’t know how to answer that. He’d traveled around the world countless times and been to almost every country on the globe. “They’re not going to hurt us. They’re very intelligent and very peaceloving unless you’re a salmon.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Rigo, Switch off the engines. We’ll just float out here and hope they come to us.” “Sure, bella, whatever you say.” Relaxing a little, Rico shut down the engines. He leaned back in the captain’s chair and laced his fingers behind his head. Maybe he could fit in a little nap. Sleep had eluded him last night, too many troubling thoughts racing through his brain. He studied her nice ass and long legs as she leaned over the railing with her binoculars. Mariah paid no attention to him. She strained against the rail on the flying bridge, intent on spotting the next Orca that broke the water’s surface. Rico envied her childlike eagerness. If only he could bottle her zest for life and pull it out when he needed it. “Rigo, they’re coming right at us! Oh! Look at them! Get up! You can’t miss this!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, dragging him to the railing. Rico slouched against the stainless steel rail, observing the whales with disinterest. Several Orcas of differing sizes circled the boat, moving closer with each pass. They frolicked in the water, giving Rico and Mariah a private show. Eva must have sent them—the guardians of his soul. Sure. What crap. One of them leapt out of the water with amazing ease and grace, coming down so close to them that he backed up a step for fear of getting wet. He had to admit that the huge black and white suckers were impressive.

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In spite of his perceived boredom, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Their lives seemed so simple and pure, his was so complicated and messy. They probably worried about catching their next salmon meal or keeping their babies safe. They didn’t care about writing a number one hit, making money, or getting laid. Well, maybe they did care about getting laid. It’s not like he’d know. He wasn’t a whale researcher. How the heck did whales do it, anyway? Another large Orca surfaced within twenty feet of the yacht. The animal’s fin appeared to be as tall as he was. The huge beast rolled on its side and stared straight at him with one large eye. Rico leaned over the rail for a closer look. He stared, mesmerized. Nothing made sense, yet everything made sense. He felt disembodied, as if he observed everything from a remote position, as that large sea-going mammal worked its magic. It called to him, spoke to his soul. All those things that troubled him so deeply seemed so insignificant. In one profound moment, he realized that nothing mattered as much as moments like this. Rico held his breath, afraid to break the spell. A delicate thread connected him to the world around him. He clung to it, like a dying man clings to his last breath. In a flash of insight, he understood the simple complexity of life and the delicate balance that held it together. Peace and contentment he’d never known filled him, surrounded him, cradled him. He floated free of his human burdens. It was too much. The depth of his feelings frightened him. He looked away, breaking the contact. Shaken, he gripped the railing. The intensity of the experience seemed surreal. The Orca launched out of the water with amazing dexterity and grace. It landed with a huge splash, sending salt water flying everywhere, including on his face. Rico swore the damn thing laughed as it dove under the boat and breached on the opposite side. He’d never forget the sound it made as it blew spray into the air. He swiped at the water on his face. The large Orca gathered his pod together and swam away from them. Their fins glistened in the evening sun. Water lapped at the hull of the boat. Rico wiped a tear from his face as whales cavorted in the distance. Mariah dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, Rodrigo, Aren’t they awesome?” Her unrestrained enthusiasm was contagious. “Yeah, they are, baby. Breathtakingly awesome.” This time he meant it.

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They moved him in ways he couldn’t put in words. The whales had penetrated his cynical armor and left him humbled. A few bars of a new song flowed unencumbered through his mind, a song about Orca whales, life, and rediscovering yourself. He pulled Mariah into his arms, holding her close. She’d just given him a precious gift with a little help from her friends.

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Chapter 9 The Trail Ride The next morning Rico sat on his deck, sipping a cup of strong coffee. He scrawled several rough stanzas of his new song on a piece of yellow tablet paper. He didn’t expect miracles. Hell, he wasn’t sure he believed in them. Regardless, the partial song he’d envisioned yesterday gave him a good beginning. His creative juices trickled instead of flowed, but it was a huge improvement compared to the drought of the last four years. Encouraged, he picked up Max's old guitar, working out the melody. Unfortunately, the thing didn't come close to the sound quality of the one he'd launched into the water. The song led him where it wanted him to go. He let it flow and resisted the urge to try too hard. He sang some experimental tunes, listening to the harmony. Rico teetered on the edge of something extraordinary. So close but so tenuous, like a wild animal, it stood poised at the edge of his conscious mind, ready to turn tail and run at the slightest interruption in his concentration. He reached for it. It held back. Hesitated. Took a tentative step forward. The main house phone jangled impatiently. That elusive flash of creativity disappeared into the dark undergrowth of his mind. Rico swore, jumped to his feet, and swung the guitar over his head. He halted in midswing, and held the guitar over his head for a moment. With a sigh, he leaned it against his chair. The phone jangled again. Only a few people knew his cell number, even fewer knew the house number. Duty to his family bound him to answer it. Rico walked into the house. Checking caller ID, he sighed. His brother. The punk never gave up. He’d already called his cell phone at least a dozen

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times in the past few days. Rico answered it, if for no other reason than to tell the little ass to quit calling him. “Yeah?” he answered, deliberately annoyed. “Hey, Rico. I finally caught you. Things must be going well. I haven’t seen your picture in any of the gossip rags so you must be staying out of trouble.” “I'm old news. They could care less about me.” “Not true. You're always hot news. I don't understand why you don't exploit that free publicity.” “Like you would?” His blood pressure inched up a few notches, his patience level dived down. “It's only smart business.” “Ramon, what the hell do you want?” “Insignia is all over my ass about my next CD.” Insignia was Ramon’s recording company. They were not happy with the poor performance of his last album. If a person could believe the gossip, they were threatening to release his brother from his contract. “Yeah. So?” “Rico? We need to get this CD done.” “What's this 'we' crap?” “Rico, mi hermaño, this is a collaborative effort. You and me—the Sanchez brothers.” “Fuck off.” Little brother didn't miss a beat. “So have you written that Grammywinning song yet?” Nothing penetrated his rhinoceros skin, plus, he had that annoying Sanchez trait of only hearing what he wanted to hear. “I wrote a few. They were crap.” “Send 'em to me. You’re the best songwriter in the business. Your crap is everyone else’s platinum.” He had been the best in the business—four years ago. He hadn't penned a thing worth singing since. And what good songs he'd had, his slimy little bastard of a brother had stolen. “Can't do that. They suck. No substance, no feeling in them.” “Who gives a shit? Since when does substance sell? Hell, look at what’s on TV right now. Look at the best-selling novels. Shit, Rico. If I don’t meet

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this deadline, they’re going to come unglued. They’re expecting a top-ten CD.” “Did Dad put you up to this?” “He’s still honeymooning in the Caribbean with his latest jail-bait bride.” “Thank God.” That meant their bumbling father couldn’t drain his business of its liquid assets, or even worse, buy garbage merchandise they had to pay someone to take away. “Where are you? I'll fly to you. We can work together and get this thing finished.” “Go to hell.” Rico hung up the phone before his brother could utter another word. The house phone immediately began ringing again. Rico unplugged it and turned off his cell phone. He stared at the guitar for the longest time. Picking it up, he attempted to resume his song writing. Those precious moments of unencumbered creativity had vanished, almost as if they’d never existed. He reached out for them, but they slid from his grasp. Feeling drained and empty, he buried his head in his hands. **** Mariah loved early morning. Everything smelled so clean and fresh. Dew clung to the grass, and the cool crisp air refreshed her. Horses munched on their morning hay in their stalls, one of the best sounds in the world. The blue sky promised another sunny day, perfect for a trail ride in the woods. Rodrigo would love it. City boy or not, she'd seen his reaction to the whales. There was more to him than he'd admit. Just how much more, she wasn't sure. She'd never been one for casual flings, yet anything beyond casual with him would most likely end in heartbreak for her. A hopeless romantic, she wondered what it would be like to wake up with Rodrigo next to her. She shook her head at her foolishness. Hopeless was the operative word. After all, she'd never be able to measure up to all the women who had come before her. Lousy in bed, she couldn't possibly satisfy him for even a night. Warren hadn’t been able to unthaw her frozen sex drive, and she'd thought she'd been in love with Warren, stupid woman that she was.

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How could Rodrigo achieve the impossible? She hated her indecision. One moment she was all over the man, the next she was shoving him away. He had to have the patience of a saint to put up with her. Sooner or later, she needed to come clean with him, to explain her conflicting messages. He needed to know that it wasn't him, it was her. If he was a smart man, he'd give up and find a woman without her hang-ups. Mariah heard steps behind her. He was early. She turned around. A welcoming smile spread across her face before she could stop it. The grain bucket she carried in her hand fell onto the concrete aisle with a thud, scattering grain everywhere. Her throat constricted and her stomach knotted. “Warren. What are you doing here?” She fought to keep her voice level and the fear from creeping into it. Warren could smell fear. He thrived on it. She couldn’t let him see that he disconcerted her. Even so, she crossed her arms protectively in front of her. He stood in the barn door, his sharp gray eyes taking her apart piece by piece. What he saw apparently pleased him. “I thought you and I might want to get a drink, just for old time’s sake.” His predatory smile never reached his cold eyes, as his gaze meandered down her body and back up again, as if he was mentally undressing her. “I’m sorry. I’m busy. I can’t.” Mariah righted the grain bucket. “Maybe you’d prefer to head straight to the bedroom.” “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Anger ate away the last crumbs of fear. His eyes narrowed. The hatred in them set her back a step. “You bitch, you were holding out on me. I thought it was such a shame that a beautiful woman like you was so frigid. Come to find out, it was an act. I bet you were dancing in the sheets with him the whole time.” “You have no idea what you're talking about.” Warren laughed, “Why don't you show me what your Latin lover has taught you? I understand those Latins don’t have any inhibitions. It could make for an interesting night.” “How do you know about him?” “I make it my business to know everything about you.” “Get out of here.” She clenched her fists and set her jaw.

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“He'll never know. Obviously, I didn’t. Or does he even care?” He stalked toward her slowly. She backed up until he had her pinned against a stack of hay bales. Grabbing both of her wrists, he shackled them in one hand. Holding her chin in his other hand, he yanked her face toward him. She glared defiantly at him. “Go to hell,” She spat at him, her temper flared. He laughed as his face came close to hers. “I'd much rather have you fighting me than willing anyway. It makes it more exciting.” Mariah started to scream, but he slapped her so hard that her head snapped backwards and slammed against a hay bale. “Don't make a sound, or you'll regret it.” She started to struggle against him, and he pressed his body against hers to pin her against the wall. So much for her mock bravery, every cell in her body trembled. “Mariah, how about a better welcome than that? After all, we haven’t seen each other in months.” “And that was fine with me.” “Ah, baby, don’t play hard to get. How about a kiss for old time’s sake for your lover?” “You were hardly a lover.” Warren’s eyes narrowed. Pushing him too far wasn’t a good idea. His cold eyes filled with menace. She lifted her chin, her eyes blazing. She tried to evade him, but he squeezed her wrists tighter. “You’re hurting me.” “Oh, yeah, baby. It hurts so good. Do you like that?” Mariah vigorously shook her head. She was scared shitless, but the more he sensed her fear, the more power it gave him. “Let go of me.” She kept her voice level and even, while her heart hammered in her chest. “What are you afraid of, darling? Do you think I’ll throw you down in the hay and rip your clothes off? I admit it does sound intriguing. Unfortunately, I’m here on business. Perhaps, we can arrange to meet another time for our personal pleasure.” “Never.” She struggled to free her hands. He laughed, but the cruelty of the sound negated any semblance of joy. “I love it when your green eyes flash like that.” “What do you want?”

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“Actually, I’m here to offer you a deal, so to speak.” He moved his face within inches of hers. Mariah held her ground even though she shook inside. “Get on with it then.” “I have a business venture that develops properties for resorts.” “Oh.” She didn’t find that particularly surprising. Warren was interested in anything that made Warren money. “One of my companies is called Deer Harbor Development.” “I don’t see what this has to do with me.” “Oh, you will. This property you’re sitting on is worth millions, Mariah. There’s a huge amount of waterfront and unspoiled acreage here.” “And that’s the way it’ll stay. Unspoiled. This is my land, Warren. You know that. My family homesteaded here a hundred years ago. They've always wanted it to be kept in tact.” “You could use the money. I know your situation. The cash from this place would allow you to live in luxury for the rest of your life.” Warren noted with a gleam in his eye. “That’s none of your business.” “Come on, baby. Remember who you’re talking to. I know all about your clothes habit, all that money you spend on those labels. There’s not much business for an interior designer on this island. Your parents left their money to that homeless charity and that worthless kids’ camp. That camp, by the way, sits on the best view property in the San Juans.” “That camp isn’t worthless. It helps emotionally damaged kids discover alternatives to drugs and prison. Their programs are state-of-the-art and have a high success rate. My grandparents started it years ago. It’s been a part of this island ever since.” “I know that, but you don’t have to renew their lease.” “Of course, I will. I want them here.” “Mariah, I’m prepared to offer you a fair price for this property. I suggest you take it.” “Or what?” She snorted in disdain. “You have no leverage. This is my property. My aunt left it to me. I’m not selling.” “You think you can afford the taxes on this place with the waterfront and view property?” “I’ll find a way.” She didn't have a clue how, but she would.

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“This is my only offer, Mariah. I want this property, and I have the means to get it. You can take my offer and be in designer clothes the rest of your life, or you can end up with nothing.” “You’re bluffing.” “Am I? Have you forgotten what an excellent attorney I am? You told me once I was ruthless and cruel. I like that sound of that—ruthless and cruel.” He bent down and kissed her, grinding his mouth across hers. Starting to panic, she struggled against him, freed her hands, and beat her fists against his chest. He drew away. She slapped him so hard she left an imprint of her hand on his face. He touched the red mark on his cheek. His eyes blazed. She swallowed and braced herself for the worst. For a moment, she thought he was going to hit her. Instead, he moved away a few steps. “You're going to wish you were nicer to me. I'll be back.” He turned on his heel and stalked off. Mariah slumped against the hay bales. Her body shuddered and her stomach threatened to relieve itself of breakfast. She felt cold, very cold. She gathered her light jacket around her body and hugged herself with her arms. **** When Rico showed up for his lesson, two horses were saddled and ready to go. Mariah wore a pair of tight faded Levis, an old T-shirt, and well-worn cowboy boots. As she brushed past him to bridle Sueño, Rico admired how her cute little butt filled out those jeans. He couldn’t recall when he’d seen her dressed in clothes without a designer label. Regardless, she looked great in anything, though nothing would be even better. In fact, Mariah wouldn't look out of place anywhere he chose to take her. If he took her to a Hollywood party, she wouldn’t just blend in with the other glamorous women, she’d out-class them. Of course, he wasn't going to be taking Mariah to any Hollywood parties. In fact, he wasn't thinking past the next two weeks. “What’s this?” He pointed at the two horses. “We’re going for a ride in the woods, cowboy.”

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“You trust me out of the arena?” He slanted a lopsided grin in her direction. “I trust Sueño. He’ll take care of you. He likes you.” “And if he didn’t like me...?” “He’d dump you.” She kept face hidden from him. “Oh.” Rico didn’t have a comeback for that. “I bet that could hurt?” “Oh, yeah, it could hurt, especially if you landed on your butt. With that hard head of yours, you'd be fine if you landed on your head. The only time Warren ever got on him, he bucked him off within sixty seconds face first into a pile of fresh horse manure.” Rico started laughing, but Mariah didn't join in. “I think Sueño has a sense of humor and a sense of justice.” Mariah gazed at her horse. “I know he does. Rico’s eyes narrowed as he studied her face. She seemed disconcerted, a little off. “You okay?” “I’m fine.” She smiled at him, but her eyes seemed sad. “I had an unpleasant surprise this morning, that’s all.” “Do you want to talk about it?” “No. Let’s enjoy the day.” He nodded in agreement. For now, he’d let it drop. Later, though, he'd get to the bottom of it. Side-by-side, the horses walked at a leisurely pace through the woods. Their hooves drummed a slow, relaxing beat on the hard-packed dirt. The sun shone through the evergreen trees and left patterns of light on the old logging road. The birds chirped, while an offended squirrel scolded them for coming to close to his tree. All seemed right with the world, at least their little corner of it. The trouble that had been weighing Mariah down seemed to have lifted. They rode in comfortable silence, neither wanting to ruin the peace of the moment. Rico shot a look at Mariah, catching her staring at him. He steered Sueño close to Mariah’s horse, Vella, until their knees touched. Reaching across, he planted a gentle kiss on her lips. His lips lingered on hers until the movement of the horses separated them. He felt comfortable and secure, like he belonged. He couldn't remember ever feeling like that before.

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“My beautiful Mariah,” he whispered. Her eyes captivated him and warmed his soul. The woman was a witch who cast spells on Spanish horses and Latin singers, at least, former Latin singers. He touched her lips with his forefinger then drew back and straightened in the saddle. The tenderness in that simple gesture brought tears to her eyes. Her emotions played across her face. Her loving expression should have sent him running in the opposite direction. Instead, it pleased him. She was his woman, at least for the near future. Then he would leave. She would find someone else, and he'd go back to his real life. His gut clenched at the thought of her kissing another man. He knew–-like he knew so many things about her—she had never kissed another man like she kissed him. Even worse, he never wanted her to do so in the future. Yet, he had no claim on her and didn't want one. So what right did he have to think so possessively? Rico frowned, irritated with himself. He’d been behaving like some lovesick fool, which he was not. Mariah, sensing the change in his mood, looked away from his probing eyes and pushed her horse into a faster walk, putting distance between them. Rico let her go, bothered by his vulnerabilities. They stopped in a small clearing. While Rico put halters on the horses and tied them to trees, Mariah spread out a blanket. She poured each of them a glass of wine and arranged sandwiches from the deli on two plates. Thank God, she hadn’t made them herself. They ate in an easy silence, bathed the soothing sounds of the woods and the earthy smell of fir needles. The woods hypnotized them and the wine erased some of her inhibitions. Rico stretched out on the blanket. Mariah made a move to clean up, but Rico stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Come here. Lay down with me. Relax.” “You're asking me to relax?” Her green eyes teased him. “I'm not sure what you mean?” “Don’t you ever stop or slow down?” “I am now.” “For how long? Ten seconds? Then you'll be up and about again.” “Not if I have a good reason to stay right here.” She bit her lower lip, as if considering something, took a deep breath, and dived in. “I'll give you a reason.”

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His eyebrows shot upward. “What do you have in mind?” “On your stomach. Take off your shirt.” Only a fool would wait for a second invitation. He yanked his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Then he stretched out on the blanket and closed his eyes as she worked on the tight muscles in his back. For an amateur, she had great feel. She coaxed and cajoled his stiff body until it bowed to her bidding and relaxed bit by bit. The tension poured out of him like water out of a pitcher. With a contented sigh, he let her touch work its magic and dozed off for several minutes. He woke to her hands stroking his hair. Rico rolled onto his back. He pulled Mariah to him and positioned her so she straddled his body. His hand snaked around the back of her neck and tunneled under her long hair to stroke the soft skin underneath. Using gentle pressure, he lowered her head. His lips captured hers. Sucking them into his mouth, he caressed them with his tongue. She moaned and ground her hips against his. There was no sweeter sound on earth than a warm and willing woman moaning under a man’s touch. This woman was definitely warm. He suspected that willing wasn’t too far behind. Freeing her lips from his erotic ministrations, he twined his tongue with hers. The señorita had a few tricks of her own hidden up her sleeve. She invited his tongue into the soft recesses of her mouth, sucking gently on it. Her own tongue courted it in a sensual dance. Rico moaned into her mouth, as she curled her lips around his. “Baby, Oh, God, baby.” He broke the kiss and pulled on her shirt. He didn’t want anything between them but skin. She reached for him again. There was something desperate in her demeanor, as if she had something to prove. He pushed her hands away. “Not yet.” Rico grasped the bottom of her T-shirt in his hands and pulled upward. She raised her arms so he could take it off. He took his time, savoring each bare inch of creamy skin as it was revealed to him. Her gorgeous round breasts strained against her black lace bra, spilling over the top. One look at her naked skin, and his patience flew out the window. He stripped the Tshirt from her body. She distracted him by placing her hands on his bare torso. Her redtipped nails raked down his chest and across his nipples. Her hips slid

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downward until she sat on his thighs. Oh, yeah, babe, that’s it, keep going lower. Uh huh. Oh, man, don’t quit now. She hesitated at his belt buckle. He took one hand and placed her palm on the bulge in his pants, expecting her to pull away. She didn’t. She kept her hand there. He closed his eyes for a moment and bit his lip. His pulse ran rampant, responding to her hand resting on his hardness. Afraid of turning blue from holding his breath, he forced air into his lungs. “Touch me,” he rasped. Mariah's body shuddered involuntarily. “Why do you do this to me?” Her green eyes pleaded for mercy. “Because you like it.” Rico didn't have any interest in showing any mercy. “Unzip my jeans, amor.” Like a woman in a trance, she touched his belt. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the buckle. After an eternity of torturous pleasure, she finally loosened it. Her hands lowered his zipper and eroded his control. In one swift motion he rolled her onto her back and switched positions. She stared up at him in shock and surprise. Reaching for her hand, he stroked her palm. One long finger traced a path from the inside of her wrist and up her arm. “You're torturing me.” “Yeah, it's sweet, isn't it?” His voice was raspy, husky. Served her right, the teasing wench. “You keep coming back for more. I'm not holding you captive.” His long finger moved to her shoulder. Mariah held her breath as it traveled slowly downward again and across her breast where he hesitated briefly then down lower to her stomach, to her thighs. “I could do this with my lips.” Rico's voice was barely a whisper. “Then why don’t you, cowboy?” The glimmer in her eyes challenged him. The woman was doing some torturing of her own. Damn. He loved it when she challenged him like that. The sound of her soft voice, husky with desire, drove every fiber of his being into instant lust. His hands journeyed upwards, pausing briefly to circumnavigate her nipples through the bra. He slid her bra straps off her shoulders, not yet baring her breasts. His mouth nuzzled her neck and his stubble rasped against her collarbone. Hovering over her, he rubbed his erection against her crotch. She moaned and arched her back toward him.

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He kissed her, letting her feel all the hunger imprisoned in his horny body. His other hand slid down and found the button on her Levi’s. Unsnapping it, he tugged on the zipper. The damn thing was stuck. He tugged harder, feeling almost frantic. A warm, and now willing, woman was wriggling beneath him, tormenting him with her partially naked body, and he was arguing with a zipper. He’d expected resistance but not from her jeans. Slipping through his lust-induced fog, his mind warned him that they were being watched. He ignored that pesky feeling, but it became stronger until he had to acknowledge it. Ever worried about reporters, he dragged his lips away from Mariah’s. Sueño's big nose hovered less than a foot from his face, so close that he smelled his horse breath. Trying Eva’s horse communication methods of visualization, Rico imagined cans and cans of dog food. Hopefully, this equine intruder would receive one of the images. You wanna end up in a can, Buddy? You’re pushing it. Sueño flattened his ears, as if he understood the human’s words. He snorted at Rico, opened his large mouth, rolled his eyes, and coughed loudly. Green horse snot laced with chewed up pieces of grass blew in all directions. The majority of it landed on Rico’s face, in his hair, and on his chest. Disgusted beyond belief, Rico yelped and leaped back. Mariah, not realizing what happened, jumped to her feet. Her panic turned to laughter when she saw his face. Rico desperately wiped it off with his T-shirt, swearing loudly in Spanish. Mariah readjusted her bra, pulled on her shirt, and buttoned her jeans. She smoothed her mussed hair. The magic of the moment was lost. Rico glared accusingly at Sueño whose head was now stuck in between the two of them as if he’d been invited to join their little picnic. “I thought you were tied up.” Great, now she had him talking to horses. Sueño regarded Rico with a curious expression, as if he didn’t have a clue what all the commotion was about. “Did I mention to you that he can untie himself?” Mariah started picking up their things, letting him know that he wasn't going to get a second chance in this meadow. “Great timing. I thought I was gonna get a little.” “Actually, cowboy, you were just about to get a lot. Better luck next time.” She spun around and flounced off to get her horse.

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Chapter 10 Friday Harbor A worrier by nature, Mariah had learned over the years to suppress her inclinations and adopt her Scarlett attitude. Unfortunately, Warren’s appearance and his subsequent threats were a little more than even she could block. It’d take a large distraction to purge Warren from her mind. That distraction came in the form of an overnight boat trip to Friday Harbor with her Latin flame. She had one stipulation—separate staterooms. Rodrigo didn’t like the arrangement but agreed to her terms. Besides, she didn’t want to stay in that big old house by herself in case Warren was still on the island. His uninvited visit frightened her so much she couldn't seem to think straight. That was the only explanation for her earlier out-of-character behavior. She’d needed Rodrigo’s closeness and comfort, and whether he knew it or not, his protection. After a pleasant cruise to Friday Harbor, they tied up to the guest dock early in the evening and didn’t drown any dock boys in the process. In keeping with her princess image, Mariah took over the master stateroom on Max’s yacht. Done in subtle beiges and rich teak, a queensized bed dominated the middle of the room. The headboard rested against the aft bulkhead. A teak door opened to a small head with a vanity and shower. Mariah stuffed both closets and all the drawers with enough clothes for a week instead of a night. In the Northwest, you never knew what kind of weather you’d get from one hour to the next. She’d packed clothes to cover all the bases. Old Man Weather wouldn’t be able to pull a fast one on her, but then he rarely did when it came to clothes. Shaking her head, she studied the dresses piled on the bed. What did a woman wear for a night of dancing with a sexy Latin? She’d never had this type of fashion challenge before.

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One by one, she tried everything on again. She kept coming back to the hooker dress—suitable for salsa dancing if you were a bad girl, completely unsuitable if you were a good girl. She’d thrown it in her suitcase at the spur of the moment. Now, she regretted that lapse in her common sense. The stupid thing kept calling to her, tempting her to take a walk on the wild side. She’d bought it last year at a trendy boutique, as shopping therapy, shortly after she’d broken off her engagement. A bargain on sale, it looked so good on her she couldn't resist it. It made her feel daring and rebellious, but having the guts to buy it and having the guts to wear it were two different things. Rodrigo tapped on the door. “Mariah, what are you doing in there? It’s almost 8:00. Let’s get going, or we won’t get a seat.” He sounded exasperated. Mariah sighed, staring at the myriad of dresses strewn all over the bed. The moment of truth crashed down upon her like a fly swatter on a fly. Wear the man-killer dress, and she all but sealed her fate for the night. Sex was written all over that dress in BIG, BOLD letters. She’d be branded the worst kind of tease in her own mind if she didn’t put out after subjecting him to that dress. She chewed on a fingernail and fingered the slinky material. She needed to get beyond her fears and learn to be a confident woman. If she couldn't enjoy sex with Rodrigo, chances were she'd never enjoy it with anyone. That was the problem. Before she lost her nerve, she slipped the hooker dress over her head. She kept her back to the mirror until she pulled and tugged the tight little number into place. Turning slowly, she studied her reflection with the critical eye of a woman her made her living in design. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of the sexy vamp in the mirror. That stranger couldn’t be her. She’d overdone it. She couldn’t go through with this. She couldn’t be something she wasn’t. And this she wasn’t. Fear crept down her throat and settled in her stomach, leaving a hard lump of indecision. “Mariah?” A sharp rap on the door. Rodrigo sounded as if he was exercising an iron control on his Latin/Irish temper. She suspected that iron might start corroding pretty soon. “Are you almost ready?”

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The dress clung to her body like a wet T-shirt. The shimmering, satiny material took on different colors of the rainbow depending on which curve or valley of her body it nestled against. The skin-tight skirt ended a few inches below her rear with a six-inch fringe around the bottom. The bodice was cut like a clingy camisole with lace along the neck and spaghetti straps. The neckline plunged low enough to offer a tantalizing view of her cleavage. At least it wasn’t obscenely revealing, depending on a woman’s definition of obscene. Other than a g-string, she couldn’t wear any other underwear or Rodrigo would be subjected to looking at panty and bra lines all night. Instead he’d be treated to her nipples and her bare butt if she bent over. What the heck did she think she was doing? The clock had run out on his patience. He pounded on the door. She didn’t have time to change—her mind or her dress. Using the small bathroom mirror, she refreshed her makeup and checked her hair one last time. With a deep breath, she opened the stateroom door and ascended the four stairs that led to the main salon. Rodrigo stood with his back to her. He tapped his foot impatiently and stared out the window. She froze. If her feet hadn’t been anchored to the floor, she would have fled back to the stateroom to change. Whatever possessed her to wear this dress? Even as she asked herself that question, she knew the answer in her heart. Her suspicions regarding his background compelled her to do it. Despite his scruffiness, she suspected Rodrigo dated glamorous, sexy women. She needed to prove to him, and herself, that she could hold her own with the best of them. She couldn’t be shy, insecure Mariah tonight. She knew him so well yet didn’t know at all. He’d semi-cleaned up tonight. He wore black jeans that hugged his narrow hips, long legs, and great butt. He turned slightly, giving her a glimpse of his front. His bronzed chest sported a white cotton shirt, unbuttoned at least four buttons. The man had a great chest, and he knew it. She wanted to slip her hands underneath that shirt and feel those strong muscles rippling under her fingers. To complete the whole sexy picture, his rolled-up sleeves revealed his tanned, corded arms.

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She forced her eyes up to his face. He hadn’t noticed her yet. His hair still did its own thing. The ever-present stubble darkened his skin. His appearance embodied a dangerous—and very Latin—male. Any woman in her right mind would salivate in the presence of that sizzling man. Taking a deep breath, she gathered up her nerve like a shield around her, squared her shoulders, and sauntered toward him in her best Marilyn Monroe imitation. She was face-to-face with the defining moment in their relationship. Maybe in her life. **** Rico heard her soft footsteps on the teak flooring. Irritated with her for making him wait, he kept his back to her. Let her suffer a little. “Rigo?” Her melodic voice floated to him, sounding uncertain and nervous. He turned, ready to give her a taste of his displeasure. Ready to lay into her, his mouth opened but nothing came out except a squeak. He’d never squeaked over a woman in his life. His lungs forgot how to operate at the sight of her in that dress. Somebody get the oxygen tank. His heart, on the other hand, increased its pace to warp speed. His mute mouth fell open. He consciously anchored his tongue to the roof of his mouth so it didn’t hang down to his knees. Down south, another part of his anatomy sprang to attention. Ay yi yi...Holy shit. Who is this? “I’m ready.” She squirmed under his lust-filled gaze. “I’m sorry it took so long. I couldn’t decide what to wear. Do I look okay?” She spun around slowly to give him the full effect. She stumbled slightly as she turned. Rico swallowed and mopped his brow. What did a woman wear under a dress like that? He called upon all his years of experience in the spotlight and under the microscope to regain some composure. At least outwardly he appeared calm. Inside, he declared himself a major disaster area. Earthquake, volcano, tornad