by Jan Moran
“And here’s to the success of your new restaurant.” She clinked her glass with his. “Do you have a name yet?”
“We’re still searching for inspiration.”
Scarlett slipped her hand into his. It was a movement that felt natural to her. In years past, how many times had he held her hand in comfort following the deaths of Franco and her father? And yet tonight, it was different. The connection between them was charged with new energy.
They watched the sun slip beneath the horizon and sat talking and laughing until Teresa called them for dinner. She’d set the table on the covered patio that stretched across the rear of the house, and introduced her husband, Miguel, who looked a little like the actor Antonio Banderas, Scarlett thought. Miguel was a well-built man of about fifty, with a healthy outdoors glow and salt-and-pepper hair.
“I hope you like paella.” Teresa spooned aromatic saffron rice and seafood onto bright earthenware plates.
Scarlett sat down near a crackling outdoor fireplace that took the light chill from the air. “I love it. My mother still makes it quite often.”
Miguel poured wine, and Johnny asked about their Andalusian horses. Scarlett could tell that Teresa and Miguel were passionate about what they did. She loved seeing such passion in people, and thought about the love that Johnny had for food and entertaining. Was she still as fervent about her work? For her profession, yes, but for Marsh & Gold, she had to admit her devotion was waning.
Teresa asked about Isabel and expressed her condolences for Scarlett’s brother and father. They caught up on family connections, and Teresa assured them they could stay as long as they wished.
They dined at a leisurely pace in the cozy warmth of the patio, talking and laughing for hours over some of the best food Scarlett had ever tasted. She sipped fine local mineral water while the others shared excellent wine from a friend’s vineyard. “This is the way life should be,” she told Johnny, who agreed with her.
After dinner, Scarlett and Johnny retired to the casita. As before, Johnny joined Scarlett, nuzzled her neck, and promptly fell asleep.
Scarlett reached behind her and ran her hand over his powerfully built leg. She wondered where their relationship was really going.
The next morning after breakfast, Scarlett and Johnny joined Teresa and Miguel at the riding arena on the property. In the ring was Teresa in her riding gear, astride an elegant grey horse. The horse was compact, yet amazingly agile.
They stood to the side, watching Teresa work with the horse. Classical music filled the air, and Scarlett was amazed at the seamless combination of dexterity and strength.
“Have you ever seen dressage?”
“Not since I was very young,” Scarlett said. “And I don’t remember much.”
“Dressage is the highest form of horse training,” Miguel said. “It’s a centuries-old, baroque tradition of Spanish horsemanship. It’s performed to a musical score, and movements performed are a result of many hours of exacting training.”
“It’s a very competitive equestrian sport,” Johnny said. “I’ve watched events in California. Your horses are pure Spanish horses, pura raza Española, right?”
“That’s right, known as P.R.E.” Miguel smiled at Johnny. “Then you’re familiar with what we do.”
Johnny gave a modest shrug. “A little. I appreciate the artistry and beauty of it. The Andalusian horses are such noble animals. They’re highly intelligent, graceful, and strong.”
Scarlett was surprised. She didn’t know Johnny, child of the barrio, had an interest in such things. There was a lot more to him, she realized. “Tell me more.”
Miguel went on. “Many of our Andalusian horses are this light grey color, and they are among the finest for this type of competition. Dressage is a French word that means training. Through intense training, the horse is taught to hone its natural athletic ability. As you can see, Teresa gives few cues. Both horse and rider perform a routine mostly from memory.”
Johnny watched with obvious admiration. “The Andalusian horse is particularly suited to these ballet-like movements.”
“Would you like to ride?” Miguel asked. “I can have two riding horses prepared if you’d like, and we have plenty of extra gear.”
Scarlett, not to be outdone by Johnny, immediately accepted, though she’d only been on a horse once before. Johnny grinned at her and looked impressed.
Scarlett changed into an outfit of Teresa’s, and she and Johnny found riding boots in the barn that fit them. Scarlett’s horse was a light grey mare with a thick white mane. She had the most soulful eyes Scarlett had ever seen. She stroked her horse’s fine head. “Hope you take care of me, girl,” she whispered. The horse flapped her ear as if in answer.
Johnny spoke to the groom and approached two fine horses he’d readied for them. From the corner of her eye, Scarlett watched everything Johnny did, and emulated his actions.
Johnny double checked the girth, adjusted her stirrups, and gave her a leg up to mount her horse. Once they were ready, they started off at a trot across a broad pasture.
Scarlett was impressed at Johnny’s experienced handling of his horse. She had trouble adapting to her horse’s rhythmic walk, and knew she’d feel it tomorrow. She called after him. “Where’d you learn that?”
Johnny slowed, turned, and grinned at her. “I do work at the Polo Lounge.” The sunlight shone on his dark eyes, illuminating golden flecks.
“That’s not fair. Come on.”
He shook his hair back, clearly enjoying himself. “Maude and her husband have a ranch near Santa Barbara. I’ve ridden there a few times. Among other places.”
“Looks like more than a few,” Scarlett muttered. “I must’ve been gone longer than I realized.”
“What?” Johnny slowed his horse.
“Nothing. Just admiring your horsemanship.” She definitely needed to get out more.
“Thanks, chica. Hey, are you okay there?” Johnny’s horse was prancing now, and he was handling it with ease.
“Absolutely. No problem.” One of her boots was stuck in a stirrup and her hair had whipped into her eyes, but she was terrified to let go of her horse.
“All right then, I’ll race you to the ridge.”
Johnny surged ahead with the wind in his hair, while Scarlett labored to keep up.
After a while, Scarlett began to imitate Johnny’s motions on the horse and found a rhythm that, thankfully, seemed to work better. When they reached the ridge top, the valley stretched before them. Horse farms, vineyards, and rural hamlets dotted the landscape.
“This view is breathtaking.” Johnny raised a hand and tented his eyes. “Just look at you. I never thought I’d see you on a horse, lawyer lady. You’re a good sport.”
Scarlett heard the chiding in his voice. “You mean you knew I didn’t ride? How dare you, racing me to the ridge like that.”
“Whoa, you were the one who jumped at the chance to ride, mi amor.”
He had a point. Scarlett scowled at him.
“Had enough?”
“Now that I’ve nearly got the hang of it, we can keep going.” Scarlett brushed her hair over her shoulder with mock indifference, clucked her tongue, and shook the reins. Her horse tossed its mane and began trotting faster than she’d anticipated.
“Oh, damn it!” Scarlett lost her balance and hung on for dear life. Behind her, she could hear Johnny laughing.
After they returned, Johnny helped remove her boots, and Scarlett flopped onto the bed, entirely spent. Every bone in her body ached, though once she’d learned some basics, she’d enjoyed the ride.
Johnny dropped her boots onto the floor with a thud. “I’ll shower and then run a hot bath for you. Wait here.”
Scarlett groaned.
Johnny showered in the separate glass enclosure. He returned to Scarlett, his hair wet and smelling of lavender soap. He wore a towel around his hips, and water droplets glistened on his bare chest.
Bending over her, he kissed her on
the forehead. “You’ll feel better after a long soak. I poured in bath salts and bubbles for you. And started the whirlpool jets.”
“You dear, sweet man, thank you.” Scarlett slid her hand around his neck and yanked him onto the bed.
“Hey, watch the towel,” Johnny said, falling onto her.
“Oh, I am,” she said, teasing him. In a quick movement, she wrapped her leg around him and rolled over on top of him, pinning his arms to the bed.
“Uh, nice move,” he said. “Now what are you going to do with me?”
Scarlett leaned in and met his lips in a feathery kiss. “I haven’t decided.”
“Really? Well, I have a few suggestions.” Johnny’s eyes sparkled with pleasure.
They kissed for a while, and then Scarlett thrust herself off him and strolled to the bathroom, seductively peeling off her shirt as she went. As she tossed it aside, she glanced over her shoulder, blew him a kiss, and shut the door behind her.
“Oh, no!” She shrieked and started laughing. With the whirlpool on high speed, the jets were manufacturing massive mountains of bubbles that reached halfway up the wall. They were billowing from the tub and spilling across the floor, but the aroma was heavenly. The entire bathroom smelled like fresh orange blossoms. He’d also turned off the lights and lit candles that sat on the tile vanity. She tore off the rest of her clothes and started digging through the bubbles to find the whirlpool controls.
Johnny pushed through the door. “What’s the matt—uh-oh, too many bubbles?”
“Where are the controls?” Scarlett’s voice was muffled in the bubbles. She couldn’t see Johnny at all.
“Over here,” he called. “Teresa must have installed the industrial strength whirlpool.”
“I think it’s jet propelled. I can’t see anything. Where are you?” She stumbled and splashed into the water.
“Careful, there. Can you find my hand? Oh, no—”
Johnny fell into the tub after her, and a tsunami wave enveloped her face and hair. Sputtering, she flailed to the surface, spitting bubbles and clinging to Johnny.
“There you are,” he said, wiping foam from his face. They dissolved into gales of laughter amid mounds of fragrant froth.
Finally, Scarlett leaned back in the tub, relishing the warmth.
“Believe it or not, I left a bottle of bubbly in here for you. Just have to find it.” He whisked away a giant bubble formation that looked like a whale’s tale, and triumphantly produced a bottle of sparkling water. He shook foam from the glass and poured. “For you, mi alma, mi corazon.”
She sipped the cool aqua con gas, the fizz tickling her nose, her eyes never leaving his. She couldn’t remember when she’d had so much fun with a man. She held the glass to him. “We can share.”
After he drank, he said, “Turn around, I’m sure your shoulders are sore.”
She slicked her wet hair back and turned. Johnny began to knead her shoulders and neck, massaging sore muscles and working out the tension that had been lingering for weeks. “Mmm, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
He continued until all the stress she’d carried had melted into the warm sudsy water. She turned back to him and brought his face to hers. “Mi cariño,” she murmured. “Come to me, mi amor.”
Johnny’s face lit with passion, and he pulled her to him, their slippery bodies melding together as one. She found his lips, and the heat of his skin spread through her.
They kissed for what seemed like an endless time, yielding to their pent up desire. Though she’d known him for most of her life, she still felt a little nervous, but her excitement soon supplanted her reticence. This is how love is meant to feel.
They explored each other’s body, and their senses took flight as they made love.
Johnny vowed his love for her, over and over. “Te amo, te deseo, te quiero, mi amor.” She loved the rich throatiness of his voice. I love you, I desire you, I want you. Scarlett felt as though she could soar in his arms.
Afterward, Scarlett lay sated in the warm water, every inch of her skin alive for what seemed like the first time in her life. The candles flickered on the walls, dancing in unison with the swaying bubbles. She raised her eyes to Johnny, gasped in mock horror, and suppressed a giggle.
“Now what, mi amor?” Johnny tickled her under the water.
She screeched, and brushed bubbles from his hair. “You had bubble horns, you devil, you.”
“What am I going to do with you?” Johnny grinned.
Scarlett wiggled her eyebrows and slid under the water. She had a fairly good idea.
14
AS THE ELEVATOR climbed high in the glass office building, Scarlett looked down at her conservative navy blue suit with dismay. Though she and Johnny had returned to Los Angles together, she was already having withdrawals. From him, from Spain, and from the joy they’d discovered. She remembered the warmth of his kiss under the Andalusian sun.
She sighed as the doors slid open, and then squared her shoulders and marched forward into the Marsh & Gold office. All I need is another cup of coffee, she told herself.
The blond receptionist glanced up with her usual bored expression, and then gasped. “Scarlett, what are you doing here?”
“And a good morning to you, too. I’ve been on vacation.” She strode past her, firmly clutching her weighty briefcase.
“You can’t go in there.”
Scarlett stopped. “And why not?” She drew her words out. “I work here, remember?”
“Wait, wait right here.” The receptionist raced back to her desk and punched an intercom button. “Scarlett Sandoval is here. Is Lucan there?” A pause. “Ok, I’ll try.”
Scarlett turned on her heel. She’d been on vacation for a week, and surely there was a pile of work waiting for her. And she had to arrange to replace her cell phone today.
Walking through the office, she nodded to her colleagues. “Hello John. Hi Martha.” They stared at her as if she had two heads, and mumbled greetings in response. The skin on the back of her neck crawled.
Her assistant was not at her desk. She arrived at her office and turned the knob. “Why is my door locked?” she mumbled. She never locked it. Exasperated, she headed for Lucan’s office.
A flurry of activity was going on in Lucan’s glass walled office. Scarlett’s assistant, the receptionist, and David were gesturing to Lucan, whose face was so red it looked like he was about to blow a gasket. What on earth? She slowed down. Mental alarms were clanging in her head.
Hector Gonzales, the security guard from downstairs, was striding toward her. She’d known him for years. In her book, he was a big old teddy bear of a man.
Scarlett held up a hand. “Look, Hector, I appreciate it, but I don’t need protection here.” She was not going to walk around with a guard, no matter what had happened in Madrid. She’d convinced herself the attack was a fluke. Even so, she’d slept at Johnny’s garage apartment last night.
The guard stopped in front of her. “Ms. Sandoval, I’m going to have to escort you from the building.”
She hadn’t heard him correctly. “No, I plan to work here today.”
Hector lowered his voice. “Come on, Scarlett, don’t make a scene. Your employment has been terminated. What are you doing here?”
Scarlett stepped back. She felt like she’d been socked in the gut. What is he talking about? She blinked. Hector was looking at her with sad eyes, like people do when someone has lost their mind.
She had not lost her mind. Not yet, anyway.
“I’ve been on vacation.” She put a hand on her hip. “What’s going on, Hector?”
“Please, Scarlett.” He looked like he was fighting tears, but he still blocked her way to Lucan’s office.
Scarlett fought the panic rising within her. She held up a hand to steady her thoughts. “Hector, I’m not dangerous. But someone needs to answer some questions for me. Like, why is my office locked?”
“Surely they told you, Scarlett.”
�
�Nothing, Hector. I swear.” Watching him waffle, Scarlett touched his shoulder with compassion. “God strike me dead if I’m lying.”
Hector nodded and cast his eyes down. “Gracias, Hector. Can you hold my briefcase?”
Her heart pounding, Scarlett hurried to Lucan’s office and burst in. The door banged against the wall, rattling the glass mineral water bottles she knew were filled with vodka on his built-in bar.
Despite her growing anger, she steadied her voice. “Someone want to fill me in?”
“David.” Lucan turned his back to her, while David’s eyes grew wide.
Scarlett shot a glare at her assistant and the receptionist. “You two, out. This is between me and the partners.”
The two young women scurried out. David approached her, his hands held out in a reconciliatory manner. “Look, Scarlett, let’s be reasonable.”
Scarlett leaned in, jabbing a finger at him. “Reasonable? I’d sure like to hear some reasons first. Like, why is my office locked? Why did someone call the security guard on me?”
“Didn’t you receive the email?”
“What email? I lost my phone a week ago. And you carried my laptop back to the office, remember?”
“Yeah, Lucan wanted it.” David passed a hand over his forehead as if he were the one in agony, not her. “Lucan, you want to tell her?”
Her laptop. An email. Things were adding up, and she didn’t like the math. She swallowed her fear.
“Sure.” Now Lucan was eerily calm, his silver hair icy under fluorescent lights. “Scarlett, you’re fired.”
“Hector just told me.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Care to tell me why?”
“A box containing your personal belongings has been delivered to your residence.”
She hadn’t been home yet. “That’s not an answer, Lucan. I’m the best damn associate here and you know it. It’s one thing to pass over me for partnership, but this is low, Lucan. Even for you.”
“Scarlett, please, just go,” David said, his voice a whimper behind her.
She whirled around. “What have you become, David? Lucan’s lap dog?”
