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?” Her question came out of left field and hit him smack in the forehead.
“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 all right, 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. 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 I pretty much on her own. My father left her when I was eight, traded her in for a younger model.” 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 spend tons of money. Now, I just stay away from Nordstrom.” 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 citizens and for handicapped kids, did a lot of lobbying and fundraising. 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 Mariners baseball team to help her with a fundraiser. Every one of them participated. Those 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 a lone tear 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.
Next thing he knew, he was 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.
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 all right. 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 should reconcile with him. Life’s too short. Take it from someone who knows.” She ran her fingers across his stubble, shaking her head. “Forgive him for whatever he did for your own good if not his. 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 subscribed to all that forgiveness crap. Another tear trickled down her face. He wiped it away with his thumb. “Are you all right?” 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.”
“You’re a nice man, Rodrigo Perez.”
“Thank you.” Coming from her that was the ultimate compliment, and as a man who felt the need to live up to her high words of praise he knew that box of condoms wasn’t going to see any action tonight.
* * *
Rico 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.
Stopping, he stared out the window into the cove below. Sun peeked through the clouds at intervals and cast the water below in shadows then brightness.
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. 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 her innocent intentions didn’t make it any easier on him. It was almost as if she panicked at a certain point and couldn’t go through with it.
Very strange.
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.
And he missed her already.
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.”
“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 in 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 because oddly enough, it wasn’t just about sex. Not anymore.
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 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?”
Dios, he wished she’d quit reading his mind. “It’s over between us. It has been for a long while.”
He heard her exasperated sigh. “Grow up, Rico. You’ve made your romance with Carmen into something it never was. Your fantasy is better than the reality.”
“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—nor do I want to—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 all right, but only on the surface. Underneath, there’s nothing. No substance. 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.
“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 to 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 happened to 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 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...”
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.
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 logging into her bank account to assess the damage done by this little trip to Seattle.
If only she’d stayed away from Nordstrom.
The small mountain of packages in the trunk of her car attested to her whirlwind affair with Calvin, Giorgio, Tommy, and Christian. Besides, everything had been on sale, and she couldn’t wait to see Rigo wearing the shirt she’d purchased.
Save the Last Dance Page 10
