Tara didn’t think she could ever relax enough to fall back to sleep, not while she was so aware of Luis on her living room couch. So close and yet so far. How warm and cozy it had been the other night when she’d fallen asleep in his embrace. Though her bed wasn’t large, there was room enough for two when they lay that close together.
Somehow, in the midst of her daydreams, they turned to real dreams, and she was asleep. She only knew this because she woke from a scenario about trying to save a cat from these huge Transformer-style robots, to find Luis looming over her bed in the darkness.
Her heart thundered, and she clapped a hand to her chest. “Jesus! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Sorry,” he muttered, letting go of the edge of her blanket he’d begun to pull back.
“Were you…going to get into bed with me?” She squinted, trying to see his face, but the room was too dark.
“Maaybe,” he sing-songed in a teasing tone, then sobered. “Sorry. It was a bad idea. I’m giving you all kinds of mixed signals. I don’t know what I—”
“Shh.” She threw back the covers. “Get in and shut up.”
Luis didn’t wait for a second invitation. He slipped under the sheets. The weight of his body on the mattress pulled her toward him like a moon orbiting a planet. Tara reached out to put an arm around him and felt bare skin—no shirt. Her legs pressed against his, and wiry hair tickled her calves. No jeans either. He wore only a pair of boxers.
All that hot, bare flesh sliding against hers woke her up even more. She rubbed her hand slowly up and down his back, feeling the ridge of his spine, then lower to the waistband of his boxers. She could slip underneath, squeeze that firm ass, or move her hand around between them and cradle his cock. But she kept her overactive libido in check and her hands confined to massaging his back.
Luis’s head rested on her chest, just above her breast. His breath tickled her skin above the neckline of her bed shirt. His hand cupped one of her breasts through the fabric, but he didn’t fondle or play. He was truly there to rest and to gain comfort from her, not to push for something more.
Tara’s heart ached for him in this moment of vulnerability. Her chest hurt as if experiencing his sadness along with him. Whatever tragedies Luis had suffered, she couldn’t fix, but she could do this much. She could hold him and give him solace in the dark stretch of the night. She could ease his sorrow at least a little bit and be his friend and comforter until he reached another dawn.
Chapter Six
I could be in sunny California right now instead of wiping spilled coffee off my skirt and counting my tip money for a bus pass.
Why had she refused Bree’s generous offer of a plane ticket? Oh right, because she was involved in play rehearsals and because she needed every wait shift she could get in order to pay for car repairs. Luis’s first fix of her car had been just one of the repairs the old girl needed. Now it was in the shop again, and though he’d said not to worry about the cost, she had to pay at least for parts.
God, she wished she could afford to take her car anyplace other than the Ramirezes’ garage. She couldn’t walk into the place without flashing back to the night they’d crashed together again after so many years apart, the intense moments of verbal foreplay and the amazing kisses. This naturally led to thoughts of her date with Luis and how that had ended with possibly the best sex of her life. And then, of course, the night he’d come to her for comfort and she’d held him. That last memory may have held more potency than the kissing or the sex. The trust he’d placed in her, revealing that much vulnerability, moved her deeply.
Saying they were going to return to being “just friends” and doing it were two different things. She couldn’t get Luis out of her head. She couldn’t readjust her mind to think of him the old way. Every time she saw him, she felt things friends shouldn’t feel for other friends—itchy, hungry sensations, particularly in her lady parts.
But obsessing over her romantic life was only part of what filled her mind these days. There were financial worries and Bree’s offer of an opportunity to move to LA. Was Luis right in suggesting Tara had settled for Cinci because she was afraid to spread her wings again, or was it a legitimate choice? She had a right to prefer smaller-city living to a sprawling metropolis. She had a right to choose modest career opportunities over butting her head against the brick wall of attempting to succeed in a huge market. Hundreds of people went to LA every year, hoping to break into a cutthroat business. Did she really want to be another lemming?
“You about done there?” Alice called. “Table three is screaming for you. Something about undercooked eggs.”
“Thanks for dealing with that for me,” Tara said dryly. She threw down the damp rag and walked to the front of the diner with a wet splotch on her skirt.
She stood and listened to a very angry woman explain the delicate difference between runny and dry scrambled eggs in excruciating detail for several long seconds.
Apologizing, Tara picked up the plate and turned…and stopped.
Luis and Graci had entered the diner and were looking around for an empty seat. Graci raised a hand to wave at Tara. Luis just looked at her with such heat she couldn’t believe it didn’t blaze a path on the very air between them. How could the entire diner be oblivious to it? How could Graci?
Tara ducked her head and concentrated on getting the plate of eggs to the kitchen. After explaining to the cook why they were wrong, she paused for a moment, breathing, and psyching herself up to talk to Graci and Luis. No big deal. They were her friends—both of them. Simply good friends who’d dropped by to see her at work. She had to let go of whatever had happened between her and Luis and treat him the way she always had. That meant insults and barbs.
“Hi, hon,” Graci greeted her. “We were in the neighborhood, shopping for a present for my mom’s birthday, so we decided to check in.”
“Cool.” Tara couldn’t think of anything to say—not one word—she who never stopped talking and who always had a jab to deliver at Luis. If they didn’t resume their usual banter, Graci would know something was up.
“The garage…” Tara began. Some snarky comment about Luis working with Hugo lurked within those words, but Tara couldn’t find it. Her ability to tease Luis had fled. All she could think of was what his body felt like moving against hers, and how he’d come to her in his bleak moment. Maybe it was impossible to return to their easy friendship.
“Yeah, your car should be ready in a few days. I’m just waiting for a part,” he said.
“Oh. That’s good.” She stared at her order pad.
Graci frowned. “What’s up? You’re acting weird.”
“No.” She jerked a thumb at the crowded room behind her. “Just slammed right now, so I can’t really talk. Sorry. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Sure.” Graci smiled. “Just water for me, please.”
“Same here.” Luis studied the laminated menu with intense concentration, avoiding Tara’s eyes.
Fine. That was for the best, because the heat when their gazes locked was insane. She was pretty sure it hadn’t been his idea to stop here. Graci must have insisted on it.
By the time she returned to take their orders, Tara had rehearsed a few conversations so she wouldn’t stand there like a zombie. “So, what did you buy for your mom’s birthday?”
“Wind chimes and another birdbath for her garden. Can’t go wrong with those.”
“Yeah, your mom loves her chimes.” Tara thought of the delicate tinkles and deep gongs that filled the air in the Ramirezes’ backyard. The house might be full of family activity, but Mrs. Ramirez’s garden had always been an oasis of peace.
“I don’t know if the neighbors like them as much. Too many chimes. Mr. Gonzales complains,” Graci said. “We’re having a party for Mom’s sixtieth next week. You should come.”
“I don’t know if I can. I have dress rehearsals all next week.” Tara kept her gaze on Graci, while Luis still studied the m
enu.
“Wow, that was quick. Seems like you just started this play.”
“Short rehearsal schedule. Anyway, I’ll come if I can. Wouldn’t want to miss your mom’s big day.” Tara remembered when she used to pretend Ella Ramirez was her mom. The woman contained all the homey warmth lacking in her own mother, a busy attorney with little time for or interest in the child she’d given birth to.
After taking Graci’s and Luis’s orders, Tara hurried off. So far, so good. She’d managed to avoid exchanging more than a couple of words with Luis. That was the way it had to be for now. Maybe some day they could be friendly again, but desire bubbled too close to the surface right now. She needed him to stay out of her sight.
Tara kept busy scurrying from one table to another and soon delivered a bill to the Ramirezes’ table. “Sorry I couldn’t chat.”
“That’s okay. I’ll call you later. Hey, let us know when your play is. I’d like to come,” Graci said.
“I don’t know if you’ll like it,” Tara warned. “The playwright is some local woman, and the play is pretty—”
“Bad?” Luis supplied.
“I was going to say esoteric, but yeah, bad sort of sums it up too.” Tara grinned. Even a faint glimmer of their familiar repartee felt good.
“By the way, I saw your mattress commercial yesterday,” he said. “You looked good. Really good. Made me want to lie down on one of those beds.”
Tara blinked. The way he purred the words, could he sound any more suggestive? Did he want to tip off Graci? But then she recalled this was what they did, what they’d always done, the sexual-innuendo banter. The script called for her to flirt back.
“In your dreams.” Okay, so not highly original, but it was better than standing there like a mute.
“I don’t care if the play sucks. I’m going,” Graci promised, ever the loyal friend. “Text me the deets so I can add it to my calendar. If Neal doesn’t have a gig, I’ll bring him along too.”
Remembering that she should encourage attendance rather than drive away ticket buyers, Tara thanked her. She had to say good-bye and tend to her other customers, and when she glanced over again, it was in time to see Luis’s back as he walked out the door. Broad shoulders and a nice ass that had felt thickly muscled under her hands.
Good God, what would it take to drive these memories and yearnings from her mind? Maybe another bout with Dre would do the trick. Except she wasn’t interested. The idea of spending time with the Bengal filled her with about as much sexual interest as a wet noodle. There was only one man she wanted, and it was the one she shouldn’t have.
Chapter Seven
“What do we really know of each other? Maybe it’s time we learned.” The lead actress spoke her final lines with as much earnestness as she could muster, and the stage faded to black.
Tara moved onstage to help reset it for the opening scene in tomorrow’s rehearsal. As she placed a sofa, the house lights came up, and she glanced out at the auditorium. The director and assistant director were deep in conversation. A couple of friends of cast members, there to pick them up from rehearsal, waited patiently. In the back row of seats, a man sat alone. She did a double take as she realized who it was. Luis? Here at the theater? Watching her rehearse? What the hell?
She jumped off the stage and trotted down the aisle toward him. He lounged in one of the seats, an arm slung along the back of the row, his feet up on the chair in front of him. If they were in a high school movie, he’d be the hot bad boy who secretly had a crush on the geeky theater chick. By the end of the movie, they’d both have makeovers and he’d bravely escort her to the prom in front of everyone.
“Hi. What are you doing here?” she greeted him.
His heavy-lidded bedroom eyes gave her a clue. “Thought you might like a ride home. Would you rather take the bus?”
“No, not really.” She knelt on a chair in the row in front of him and rested her folded arms on its back. “So how much did you see?”
“Just the last couple of scenes. Great freeze, by the way. That must be hard to do.”
“Surprisingly easy compared to making fake conversation in the background.” She sat back on her heels. “Wow, I can’t believe you’re here. This is weird.”
“Good or bad weird?”
“Good, I think.” She studied him, so sexy in his grease-stained denim work shirt that made him look all manly and capable. A recap of that moment in the garage when he’d lifted her up in those capable hands and kissed her with that capable mouth flashed through her.
“We’re supposed to be just friends,” she said.
“Friends give friends rides home,” he pointed out, but the way his gaze seared her seemed way more than friendly.
“All right, then.” She stood. “I have to go listen to the director’s notes and do a couple more things backstage. Where are you parked? I’ll meet you there.”
***
It was a slippery slope from want to need to gotta have, and Tara glided down it without another thought. She landed plop in her apartment with Luis, making out like sex-starved addicts from the moment they entered the front door through falling down on the living room rug and rolling around like wrestlers. She couldn’t get enough of his hands on her skin, his mouth fiercely attacking hers, his body pinning her down.
Whatever nonsense either of them may have uttered about being only friends disappeared with a pop as they stopped denying the attraction between them. He gripped her hips and pushed up against her with a thrust that made her gasp.
Luis pulled away from a long, sucking kiss. “I really did just mean to give you a ride home. I swear.”
“I know.” Tara stopped his words with another kiss. “But it’s all good,” she muttered breathlessly as she stripped off her top and flung it aside, then got to work on the frustrating buttons down the front of his shirt.
Luis made it more difficult by sitting up to kiss her again. His hands tangled in her hair, threatening to ruin her new style. Tara moved his hands to a safer zone—her ass—then resumed working on the shirt. She tugged it down his arms, took a second to admire how his biceps looked outlined by a strappy white T-shirt, then peeled that over his head. She ran her hands over his smooth, hard chest, relishing the flow of muscles beneath her palms. Then she grasped those powerful shoulders and pushed him back down to the floor.
Grinding on top of him felt good for a while, but soon she was desperate to get the rest of their clothes off and have him inside her. She scrambled up and stripped off her shoes and skirt. Luis did the same, wiggling out of his jeans like a caterpillar, making her laugh. But when he was naked and his cock stood up, aggressively thick, she stopped laughing. Need shook her like a seismic pulse and before she lost control entirely, she dashed to her bedroom to get a condom.
Tara covered him, hands fumbling awkwardly, then lowered herself over that delicious erect cock. She settled with a satisfied whimper and began to rock gently. He groaned and shifted beneath her, hands grasping her hips and guiding her movement.
She leaned over him, the tips of her breasts brushing his chest, sending ripples through her, and she kissed his mouth, his cheek, his neck. Up and down she glided. The rhythm of her hips progressed from slow and sultry to rushed and needy. Luis’s ragged breathing near her ear, his muffled curses, spurred her to move faster. Rolling waves of lust within her matched the rocking motion of her body—building, building, peaking, and abruptly exploding.
“Oh God, yes.” She gripped his shoulders, and her back arched as climax shook her. The wave crested and ebbed as rapidly as it had risen.
Luis’s hands on her hips moved her faster, creating the friction he needed to take him the rest of the way. He cursed in Spanish as he came. Tara knew the phrase, one he’d taught her long ago when she was his kid sister’s friend and he was like a fun older brother. She remembered feeling very sophisticated being able to hurl a curse in Spanish at school-yard bullies if they gave her trouble.
Now they moved i
n sync, slowing down together until they barely moved, swaying together as they had on the dance floor. She collapsed against him, covering his body with her own. She rested her head on his chest, and his arms went around her, so wonderfully sheltering.
They lay in silence while his heart pounded in her ear, each thud pushing blood through his body. Life coursed in him. For the first time, Tara comprehended with sharp clarity that Luis could’ve died overseas. He might never have come home. His life could have been snuffed out in a second, and they might never have shared this moment. Although she’d been aware of the dangerous risks he took in his job, she hadn’t truly absorbed the knowledge until just now.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she murmured, gripping the flesh beneath her palm to reassure herself of his presence.
“Me too.” He smoothed a hand over her hair and down her back. “Still don’t know if you and me hooking up is right, but I choose to stop worrying about it. I’m glad I’m here too.”
She lifted her head and looked at him. “No. I don’t mean here in my apartment, but here in general. I’m glad you’re home safe.”
“Mm.”
She splayed her fingers over his chest, and his heart beat into her palm, as if she might grab it and hold it. “You said you had some close calls over there. How close?”
At first he didn’t answer. She’d prodded a sore spot he didn’t want disturbed. But then he said, “Close enough that I was lost some of my team.”
The succinct answer made her wince. His monotone spoke more eloquently than if his voice had quavered. She felt the depth of his pain, the survivor’s guilt that probably haunted him. She searched for words to convey her empathy without sounding trite.
“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Not really.”
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