Humbled by his admission, Sara tucked her head in the crook of his neck. His strong arms wrapped around her and she nestled in his protective embrace.
“It’s probably just the great sex fogging your brain,” she teased, relying on humor to mask the intensity of her emotions.
His chuckle rumbled in her ear. “Could be. But I’d be lying if I said that was all.”
His honesty sobered her.
“How about if we take this”—she traced her palm lightly over his pec, awed by the combination of his soft skin over the hard muscle—“one day at a time? See where it leads.”
Not quite the Would You Rather question pitting her against his ex that Sara had kept to herself earlier, but she wasn’t courageous enough to put that out there. Yet.
“And on Friday we’ll decide?” Luis trailed off at the mention of the end date of their original agreement.
Sara waited for him to continue.
When he didn’t say anything, she interpreted it as a silent, mutual decision to deal with that when the time came.
Her cell trilled an incoming text message alert. Sara bit back a resigned sigh at the interruption. It trilled a second time, and she reached over to grab the phone off her nightstand.
A message from her mother popped up on the screen: Finished golfing. Ordered clubhouse drinks. Home in 45.
Sara imagined her mom typing the message like she rattled off orders in the OR. Direct. No-nonsense. No emotion, or emoticons, involved.
“It’s my mom,” she told Luis. “Looks like they’ll be here in less than an hour.”
“Okay.” The uncertainty in his single-word response mimicked Sara’s sentiments.
Dejected, she set her phone on the bed, then snuggled back in his arms.
Her gaze cut to her cell, her message app still open. Three little dots hovered underneath her mother’s first message. Seconds later, another text appeared: Love you.
Like the Florida sun peeking through the clouds to cast its rays through the bedroom skylight, clarity brightened Sara’s perspective. Her mom was trying. Making a true effort to change their relationship. So were her dad and Jonathan.
Maybe, instead of stressing about what-ifs, she should simply accept the situation that was before her and make the most of it.
Grab ahold of what she had, instead of worrying what she may not down the road. Therapy had taught her to take it one day at a time. Today had been a marvelous day. Her decisions, her actions, could help it stay that way. Or not. She preferred the former.
Sara sat up abruptly.
Luis frowned. “You okay?”
“Would you rather conserve water and shower with me or save time and shower with me?”
Luis’s face lit up at her question. His lips spread in a wicked smile that had her entire body humming with tantalizing anticipation.
He let out a victorious, “Yes!” then swung his legs off the bed and scooped her up in his arms. “Now there’s a question that requires some research and exploration before answering.”
Oh, she knew they couldn’t avoid the issues that awaited them outside these four walls. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy discovering all the exquisite ways they worked well together. That’s exactly what she planned to do.
Chapter 17
Luis stepped out of the bathroom to find Sara, dressed in red running shorts and a black sports bra, perched on the foot of their bed. Running sneakers already laced up and her blond hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, she was ready to head out for a four-mile run together.
“Here you go. One black, no-fluff coffee.” She rose to hand him a supersize mug with the green and white zero mile marker sign plastered on the side.
“Thank you.” Taking the mug, he inhaled the rich, bitter aroma. After the busy night they’d spent getting far too little sleep but engaged in much more pleasurable activities, he’d need a second cup to fuel his day when they got back from their run.
“So, your mom and Robin ultimately decided today’s schedule is the Audubon House, the Mel Fisher Atocha museum, and browsing the shops around the Custom House, right? With a day on my boat tomorrow, right?”
He eyed Sara over the rim of his cup as he took a sip of the hot liquid.
“Are you sure you’re up for that? I mean, if Robin gets on a roll, our only option would be to throw her overboard.” Sara’s face scrunched in a cute grimace. “My parents and Edward probably won’t go for that idea. Now Jonathan, I might be able to convince him.”
Her blue-green eyes squinted as she gazed up at the ceiling like the answer to her dilemma might be found in the creamy paint swirls.
“Or,” Luis bent to drop a kiss on her pouted lips. “There’s no avoiding each other out there. So, you two take a walk or sit on the beach and try clearing the air after I drop anchor at Snipes Point.”
He swatted her butt playfully and eased around her to grab a tee from one of his drawers.
“You gotta admit, she was in a good mood last night when they returned,” Luis reminded her. Setting his coffee next to a photo book on life in the Keys, he hunkered down to rummage through his clothes.
“Because she beat everyone in golf, duh.”
Luis grinned at Sara’s aggrieved tone.
In his familia, Robin’s competitive nature would fit right in with his siblings. But he understood there were different dynamics between Sara and her sister. Unspoken disappointments, no doubt differing interpretations of the slights they’d each felt as children growing up with two highly successful, driven parents who expected the same from their children and may not have given them all the attention and love they wanted. Though Ruth and Charles were doing their best to make up for it now.
Another gray KWFD T-shirt in hand, Luis pushed the drawer closed and rose. “I think it’s pretty sweet your parents want to take all of you on a Mediterranean cruise.”
When he stuck his head through the neck hole in his shirt, he found Sara watching him. He took his time lowering the shirt over his torso, enjoying her reaction. Appreciation glittered in her eyes turning them the color of stormy Gulf of Mexico waters. The same color that had gazed back at him in the throes of passion last night.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat and pointed two fingers back and forth between his eyes and hers. “Keep looking at me like that and we’re gonna wind up indulging in a different type of exercise.”
The blush seeping into her cheeks had him nearly reaching out to wrap her up in a fierce hug.
“Oh, that’s definitely happening,” she assured him, her brows waggling to emphasize her promise. “You can count on it.”
That easily, his body responded to her husky words, his mind jumping from hugs to moves that were far more carnal.
Luis cradled his coffee mug tighter, more to keep his hands busy and his thoughts off the two of them diving back into bed together.
“Anyway, back to the topic. Thank you for deftly sidestepping my parents’ questions last night!” Sara pressed her fingertips to her temples, as if she were channeling a stressful memory. “When they asked about your availability to come with us on the cruise, poking for info about your commercial real estate business and our long-term plans, I froze.”
Shit, he had, too.
Mostly because the idea of spending more time with the Vances, even prickly Robin, held unbelievable appeal. Even if that time didn’t involve the bonus of a Mediterranean cruise.
International travel, any travel, had always been his sister’s dream, not necessarily his. Anamaría had curtailed those aspirations after their dad’s heart attack the summer after her high school graduation, staying home instead of jetting off to conquer the world alongside her boyfriend like they’d planned. Alejandro had gone off and made a name for himself as a photojournalist. Anamaría had stepped in to help care for their papi while he convalesced. Then she eventually joined the family business, becoming a firefighter paramedic like the rest of them.
Since then, her travel consisted of
a few meet ups with her training clients at their various races across the United States.
As for him, sure, he wouldn’t mind seeing a little more of the world, but he was also fine sticking close to home on his island. Enjoying game nights like they’d done the past few evenings here. Taking the Fired Up out on the water. Spending quality time together, whether that meant doing the mundane or the adventurous, like convincing Sara to tandem bungee-jump with him.
If, somehow, come Friday, they decided to keep taking it one day at a time with each other.
“I think we did okay throwing them off course,” he told Sara. He hoped so anyway. With Charles and Robin, both discerning in a manner different from the others, it was difficult for Luis to get a true read. “It was easy to redirect the question and get your mom talking about the cruise options she’s researched.”
“That was a good move.” Sara tugged her ponytail tighter as she nodded.
Luis slid his running pouch onto his arm, secured the Velcro strap around his biceps, then stuck his cell phone, ID, and some cash inside the pocket. “You ready? It’s almost eight thirty. That sun’s going to start getting brutal.”
“Let’s go.” Sara spun on her red and white sneakers and headed for the door.
As they neared the bottom of the staircase, voices drifted to them from the back of the house.
“Oh! I forgot.” Sara paused by the hutch in the foyer. “My mom hired a yoga instructor for a private class here today and Thursday. She invited us to join if you’d rather do that instead.”
“God, no!” He shuddered, imagining himself twisted like a pretzel and pretending to enjoy it for Sara and her mother’s sake. “Anamaría would kill me, after torturing me first, if she found out I took a yoga class from someone other than her. She’s been nagging me to try her sunrise yoga-on-the-beach class for ages. I usually tell her I’ll wave as I run by.”
Sara chuckled and moved down the hallway passed the framed tropical prints. “Let me go tell my mom we’ll take a pass on the yoga.”
“I’ll come say good morning.”
Luis followed Sara into the kitchen where they found the large pass-through window to the outside patio dining area opened. Out back, the morning sun bathed the dewy foliage in its swath of light and glinted off the pool’s surface.
He spotted Ruth standing near the steps leading to the oasis pool area. She was talking to someone he couldn’t see, gesturing toward the back lawn area, near the waterfall. Still recovering from the ravages of chemo, her skinny frame looked even tinier in black leggings and a slim-fitting tank. The results of her double mastectomy and decision to forgo reconstructive surgery were evidenced by her tank’s fit. Something she adamantly refused to let define her.
They’re battle scars from a war I intend to keep winning!
This proclamation had been given while the two of them were seated on the patio late yesterday, enjoying a post-dinner drink. His, beer. Hers, another putrid purple vitamin-and-mineral-infused smoothie.
“Oh, hi, honey! Are you two joining us?” Ruth waved for them to come outside.
“We’re going to stick with a run,” Sara answered.
Ruth’s expectant smile faltered, and Luis felt like a first-class heel for disappointing her.
“I’m worse than a yoga novice and would hate to slow down your private class,” he told her.
“Nonsense, it’ll be fine. Here, come tell them, dear.” Ruth motioned to the person she’d been speaking with, probably the private instructor off scoping out the grassy area outside the master bedroom.
“Mom, that’s his nice way of saying yoga’s not his thing,” Sara insisted.
Luis gave her a don’t-blame-me frown as he downed his coffee.
“Dr. Vance, I don’t mind making this a group class if you’d prefer. Whatever you’d like works for me.”
At the sound of his sister’s voice coming from somewhere outside, Luis sucked in a shocked breath. Unfortunately, he already had a mouthful of hot coffee. It slid down his windpipe and he choked like a drowning man. Black liquid spewed across the sink, making an abstract splatter across the white tile counter on the patio side of the large pass-through window.
Sara threw him a bewildered look and smacked him on the center of his back. Hard!
He endured another painful whack, his eyes watering as he stared out at the back yard. His worst nightmare in this whole charade he and Sara were playing came to life when Anamaría climbed the three steps leading up to the porch.
Ruth spread her arms as if welcoming them all to her yoga-themed fiasco about which she remained, thankfully, clueless.
“Anamaría, this is my youngest daughter, Sara, and her partner, Luis Montez. Maybe you’ll have better luck convincing them to stick around for your class.”
Gracias a Dios, his sister was not only a world-class athletic trainer and firefighter paramedic but also the best damn poker player who possessed the absolute best damn poker face. Luis had learned from experience to avoid playing against her unless he wanted to lose his shirt or, when they were kids, extra free time because he was stuck doing her chores.
Anamaría crossed the wooden deck, her long dark hair caught in a high ponytail, the length hanging in a braid to her shoulder blades. Her hyperfit body sported formfitting black shorts and a sports bra under a white tank with “AM Fitness” scrawled across her chest. Her hazel gaze pinned him to the spot like a spear running through a king mackerel.
“My pleasure,” she said. The flash of you-are-so-busted triumph in her hazel eyes alerted him that she might play along now, but he’d owe her for it later. In spades.
Anamaría squeezed his hand in a death grip the likes of which would impress their brothers. “You know, what many bulky men have in strength and endurance they often lack in flexibility. The third, equally important element of a truly healthy, balanced workout routine.”
Yeah, he knew that. She’d harped on him about it ad nauseam over the years as she’d taken classes and workshops, earning her personal trainer and nutritionist certifications.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he muttered.
“Um, hi, nice to meet you.” Sara held out her hand, interrupting Luis and his sister’s infantile handshake to the death routine. “I didn’t get your last name. What was it?”
“Navarro. Anamaría Navarro.” Strangely, as his sister turned to address Sara, Anamaría’s poker face slipped away, a wide-eyed, awed expression taking its place. Her mouth spread in a huge grin, the dimple in her left cheek making its appearance. “Ay Dios mío, I am going to try my best not to fangirl, Ms. Vance, but I’m a huge follower of your blog and Instagram account. The way you’ve managed your career and business is a true inspiration. I’m a fledgling small-business owner myself, determined to do things the right way.”
It was almost comical. The juxtaposition of horror and surprise on Sara’s face at his sister’s gushing speech.
“Please, uh, call me Sara.” She stuck out her hand to shake, wincing when Anamaría clasped it in both of hers and gave an exaggerated pump. “I appreciate you saying that. If there’s some way I could be of help, maybe we could, um, chat about your business later?”
Sara’s confused gaze swung to Luis. Unfortunately, he was right there with her. Confused, unsure how or even if he wanted to involve Anamaría in their mess.
What the hell were the odds Ruth would hire his sister, potentially sabotaging Sara’s ruse?
Even more strange, who knew his sister would have the social media hots for the same woman he couldn’t wait to get alone again, so they could continue where they’d left off earlier this morning?
Coño, this situation couldn’t get any more screwed up.
“Thanks, I really appreciate the offer,” Anamaría told Sara, then she turned to him with that smug, saccharine sweet smile she flashed when she knew she had the upper hand. “You know, I could use a little help bringing in some equipment. Mr. Montez, would you mind assisting me?”
* *
*
“Who the hell is Luis Montez?” Anamaría started in on him as soon as the front door closed behind them.
“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. He leaned over to peer through the rectangular windows lining the door’s perimeter to make sure he and Anamaría hadn’t been followed.
Once he knew the coast was clear, he grabbed her by the elbow, rushed them down the stairs and front walk, through the white picket gate, to her blue Honda Pilot parked across the street.
“Don’t shush me! ¿Quién carajo es Luis Montez?” she repeated, jerking her arm out of his grasp.
“No one.”
“Uh, apparently not, since that’s the name Dr. Vance used when she introduced you as her famous daughter’s partner.”
“It’s complicated.” Luis paced a few steps away. He spun to pace back, then repeated the same loop, mind-boggled. “You’re not involved, so don’t worry about it.”
“News flash!” Fingers spread wide, Anamaría crossed her hands in the air, moving them apart as if she highlighted her words on a marquee. “I am involved! I’m about to go back in there and lie to a client.”
She jabbed a hand toward the rental house. Coño, the girl was on a roll. And when his baby sister got worked up, forget injecting a word in edgewise
“A well-paying, influential client, based on what my contact at the Casa Marina’s Spa al Mare indicated when I booked this gig. So, sorry, hermano, but this is my business now. Like, actually, my business. AM Fitness.” Anamaría stressed her company name, pounding her flat palm over her company logo on her chest. “Now, what the hell am I walking into when I go back in there?”
His sister’s words hit him like a barrage of pellets, stinging with truth. Shit, she was right. Even worse, for someone who despised lies and liars, he was going to have to ask Anamaría to join him and Sara in this tangled knot of deception. One that, if they weren’t careful, would wind up turning into a noose.
Frustration mounting, Luis speared a hand through his hair, sliding it down to squeeze at the headache forming at the base of his skull.
Island Affair Page 24
