“I won’t betray you,” she whispered. No matter what else, she could promise him that.
“You won’t lie to me?”
“Never.” Her words were almost lost in the heat of his mouth as it claimed hers. He licked her lips, then pulled back just one almost unbearable inch.
She rocked her hips into him, begging him to enter, to bury himself in her.
“Tomorrow you can do a new reading for me and see if my fate has changed.” His low voice barely penetrated the thick fog of arousal clouding her mind. “Will you?”
“Umm…” words danced just outside her consciousness. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow.
But she’d promised not to lie to him.
“I may not be able to,” she breathed.
“Why?” he whispered, his smile pressing against her cheek.
At least you’re honest.
“Because I may lose my powers along with my virginity.”
“What?” He tugged back, and cool night air assaulted her cheek where his lips had breathed so hotly just a second ago.
She moaned and writhed against him. She didn’t want to think about her powers, or anything else but Joe’s big body moving inside hers.
She groped for words to answer him. “That’s what usually happens.”
Goose bumps rose over her skin as he pulled further away from her. Eyes still closed, she groped the air with her hands, reaching for him.
“Susana, you can’t be serious…” The grave tone of his voice tugged her eyes open. “You can’t… I can’t…”
“Please.” The pleading sound of her own voice echoed the pulsing throb of desperate need still pounding through her body. Twenty-three years of longing, pent up and ready to break free.
“I can’t, Susana. I can’t take that from you. I have nothing to offer you.”
He leaped off the bed and strode to the far wall. She could make out the lines of his body in the dim shadows cast by the single candle.
“I don’t care about my powers. I’ve been a prisoner of them my whole life.” She sat up on the bed. “I want to be free.”
“I can’t do it.” He turned to her. Shadows hid his face. “I can’t take responsibility for you losing your gift. You told me to keep my hands off you. You wanted me to keep my distance, and I didn’t.”
“That was my decision, too.”
“No. I led you to it. You’re aroused. You’re not thinking straight.”
She shook her head, hair flying, confused thoughts tumbling around in her mind. “I want you, Joe.”
“And I want you, too, Susana. But not at such a high cost.”
“But the cost is to me, not you.”
“I know. And you’re young. You’ll live to regret it. And I won’t take the blame, not any more.”
He strode across the room and snatched his jeans off the floor, tugging them on roughly. “You should have told me, Susana.”
“I did tell you.” She swallowed, tears welling up in her throat and under her eyelids. “I did tell you, and I wish I hadn’t.”
“Don’t cry.” His balled up T-shirt gathered in one hand, he sat on the bed.
“Why not?” Her words emerged as a sob. “Why won’t anyone let me make my own decisions about my life?”
“Come here.” He eased toward her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. Her tears wet the skin of his shoulder as she buried her face in it. “If you really want to…make love, we’ll do it. But I want it to be a decision you make in the cold light of day.”
She looked up at him, vision blurred with tears. A broad thumb stroked the wetness from her cheek.
“If you think about it, truly think about it, and you still want to… Come find me tomorrow evening. I’ll write down the address of my new apartment. If you don’t come, I’ll understand that too.”
She couldn’t find any words to reply so she simply nodded, tears dripping onto her bare breasts, as he rose off the bed, picked up his shoes and left.
As the door closed behind him she swiped at her tears with a shaking hand. She was tired of people telling her what to do. She’d done everything Granna said for twenty-three years. It was time to take charge of her own life.
She climbed off the bed, blew out the candle and propped her elbows on the windowsill. She waited for him to write his note, let himself out of the apartment and descend the stairs.
Then she watched as he emerged from the building, strode diagonally across the street and took off up the sidewalk as if the hounds of hell snapped at his heels.
CHAPTER 7
Joe opened the massive sliding door to his loft apartment with a huge smile.
“Come in.”
He knew she’d come. She could see it right away. Suddenly Susana felt ashamed that she’d had second thoughts and almost backed out.
He gestured for her to step over the threshold. As she did she heard piano music tinkling in the background. Little notes of fear jingled inside her.
“Wow.” The apartment was stunning. Huge, with high ceilings and gleaming wood floors. A wall of windows looked out over the Hudson River, gray water still visible in the dusk, lights gleaming on the opposite bank.
“I’ve been busy. I rented the place unfurnished.”
She looked around and wanted to laugh. It still looked unfurnished–no rugs on the floor or pictures on the white walls. Just a table, set for two, with two chairs. And the tiny silver stereo system on the floor in a corner of the room.
“There’s a bed, too,” he said softly.
Susana bit her lip.
A delicious aroma drew her attention to the kitchen open to the big living room. Two pots steamed on a huge stove surrounded by pale stone countertops.
“Arroz con pollo.”
“What’s that?”
“Chicken and rice. My dad’s recipe.”
“Smells good.”
Pretty confident of him to start cooking before she showed up. They hadn’t agreed on a time. But she’d known when to come.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Sure.”
“Wine?” Joe gestured at a bottle, already uncorked, sitting on the granite counter.
“Okay.” Just a sip, she promised herself. No sense getting tipsy. She wanted to savor every single minute of this adventure with all her senses fully awake.
She watched as Joe poured red wine into two large wineglasses. He’d combed his hair back neatly from his handsome face, tan cheeks shaved clean. His light blue shirt looked new, the creases from the packaging precise and crisp.
“You look different.”
“I clean up nice, huh?” He smiled and walked toward her with a glass of wine.
She nodded and took the glass from him, then smiled as she surveyed his bottom half. Faded jeans and bare feet.
He shrugged. “I’m still me. At least my top half looks pretty. To good fortune.” He lifted his glass and clinked it against hers.
“Good fortune.” She repeated and took a sip. The fruity liquid tickled her tongue, and she shivered, all on edge with excitement, anticipation and anxiety.
“You look different too.”
She realized his eyes hadn’t left her face until now. She tucked her hair behind her ear as his gaze wandered down over the new outfit she’d bought with so much trepidation that afternoon.
She’d wanted to wear jeans, but she’d tried them on and known she’d feel naked walking down the streets with the intimate curves of her thighs and backside, her crotch, on display to everyone.
She’d bought a dress, with a neckline that revealed her collarbone. The knee-length hem was demure by modern standards but shockingly risqué for Susana. The deep, plum shade flattered her complexion and brought out the color in her lips and cheeks.
“What do you think?” She smoothed the fabric of her skirt, suddenly self-conscious, like a kid playing dress-up.
“Very sophisticated. You look dazzlingly beautiful. But then you always do.” Joe’s d
ark eyes rested warmly on her face as he took a sip of his wine.
Susana’s face heated at the unfamiliar compliment. She’d heard her share of bloated flattery from drunken clients, but that didn’t mean anything. The only references to her looks from people she knew were entreaties to cover herself up, hide herself from the prying eyes of strangers, unless she wanted to end up like trampy cousin Sonya.
Or like her mother.
She took another sip of the dark liquid.
“You ready to eat?”
“Sure.”
Joe had lit a candle at the table and the flame guttered as Susana lowered herself carefully into her seat. Her skirt slid up to reveal half her bare thighs and she was glad the table hid the bold display. Odd really, when she’d sat before him last night without a stitch on and not even felt shy.
Joe brought over two steaming plates of fragrant chicken and rice with black beans, then settled into the seat in front of her.
“My dad was from Cuba. This was his favorite dish.” Joe’s smiling face shone, so astonishingly different from the haggard, haunted countenance she’d seen in the shop two days ago. Almost unrecognizable.
Could she take credit for the transformation?
Or did all men look like that when they thought they were going to get laid?
She shoved her napkin down into her lap, as if it could smother the flames of heat and embarrassment leaping under her new dress.
She’d promised and now she’d have to deliver.
“Go ahead, dig in.” He led the way, forking chicken into his smiling mouth.
Susana arranged some chicken on her fork and lifted it cautiously. This was, what—the third meal they’d eaten together? Why did she feel so self-conscious?
The aromatic chicken filled her taste buds with its savory flavors. “This is great.”
“Thanks. I bet you didn’t think I could cook.”
“You’re right.” Embarrassment forgotten, she ate more of the delicious food.
“My dad was a fantastic cook. It’s what he did for a living. My mom too, she came from Italy and had cooking in her blood, she said. Even on their days off they’d spend all day in the kitchen, so I grew up eating well.”
“Lucky you.”
“Yeah,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I was lucky. I had a happy childhood.”
A shadow darted across his features and his eyes dropped to his plate as he gathered another mouthful of food.
“I could see that when you came into the shop ten years ago. You glowed with high spirits.” She hesitated for a second before admitting the truth. “It was very attractive.”
“High spirits, huh?” He shook his head, chuckling. “Naïve dumbass ignorance is probably a better description. I’m all wised up now, though.” He looked away and took a quick swig of his wine.
“What happened, Joe? With your wife.”
He didn’t look up. Her stomach tightened. She would have liked to just enjoy the delicious meal, but suddenly Joe’s past hung between them like a knife, cutting through casual conversation.
“She dumped me. She promised me for better or for worse…” He shook his head. “But I guess she wasn’t up for the worse.”
“You feel a sense of betrayal.”
“Wouldn’t you? Marriage is for life. That’s the whole point of it. I provided for her, took care of her. Hell, I loved her. She was my wife.” He seized his glass and took a swig of wine, avoiding her gaze.
“I’m sorry she hurt you.”
“Me too.”
“The ‘worse’ you mentioned. Does that have anything to do with your scars?”
“Sure does. But trust me, you don’t want to know.” He shoved a forkful of food in his mouth and chewed it.
“Sometimes it helps to talk about what’s troubling you. I can see the past still haunts you.”
“You can, can you?” His eyes met hers, suddenly hard. “I bet you can read all about my sorry existence right in the palm of my hand.” He slammed a hand, palm up, down on the table.
Susana forced herself not to read the lines. Not that they would have told her much anyway. He balled his hand into a fist and withdrew it.
“Why did your grandmother raise you?” His black eyes narrowed as he asked the question. “What happened to your parents?”
An assault—as a form of defense. He didn’t want to talk about his own past so he’d picked up an obviously painful chunk of hers and hurled it at her.
She grasped her wineglass and raised it to her lips. Her hand slipped and the glass clinked against her teeth, making her blink. She put the glass down. Surely after all these years she should be able to talk about this.
But she never had.
It was taboo, a dirty secret that contaminated all who knew it, most of all her.
She drew in a ragged breath.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Joe reached a hand across the table. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. Believe me, I know how that goes.”
She placed her hand in his, and he closed his fingers around it, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Sparks of warmth tickled her skin where he chafed it. Why did his touch feel so good? Already she was relaxing.
Already she found herself wanting to tell him.
“My dad wasn’t Rom. He worked in a bakery where my mom went to buy bread. They started meeting each other secretly.” She paused, the forbidden words dancing around her. “I only know this tenth hand, mind you, since they died when I was a baby.”
“Did they get married?”
“No. They never married, but she got pregnant.” Susana looked at their hands intertwined on the table. They fit together so well. Suddenly she wondered if her mother ever had that same thought as she held hands with her gadjo lover.
The idea shocked her and made tears spring to her throat.
Her mother’s name was never mentioned. It was unclean.
“The shame of her pregnancy made my grandfather cast her out, so she went to live with her lover.”
“What was his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you have his last name, right?”
She shook her head. “My grandmother gave her name when she took me in. She wanted to forget my gadjo heritage.”
“Damn.”
“My mother’s name was Marianna.” The word burned her tongue, as if she cursed herself by saying it. But that bitter, frightening sting was also the taste of freedom. “She was only nineteen when she died.” She swallowed back the hot lump forming in her throat.
“What happened?”
“They were both shot dead one night.”
“By your family?”
“No!”
Fear curled Susana’s hand into a fist as she stared at Joe. Was it possible? The idea had never occurred to her. And she didn’t want to consider it.
“They said my father got mixed up in a drug deal. I don’t know any more than that. I was in the apartment when they were shot. Everyone called it a miracle I wasn’t hurt.”
“I bet your childhood wasn’t so easy.” He tightened his protective grip on her hand.
She avoided his eyes, trying to shrug off the unfamiliar wave of emotion tugging at her. She’d grown practiced at keeping her feelings under wraps, concealing them so carefully from everyone that she’d learned how to hide them even from herself.
“Did the family accept you, even though you’re only half gypsy?”
She nodded. “Mostly. The Rom look after their own. There was always whispering, backbiting, but my grandmother wouldn’t hear anything said against me. And when they realized I had the gift…”
She blew out a breath. The gift had saved her life in a way. Transformed her from a tolerated pariah into a proudly claimed member of the family.
And now she was going to give it up? Throw her powers away for one night with a handsome gadjo? Her fingers cooled inside his grasp.
“The gift is your ability to read fortunes?” Joe lifted a dar
k eyebrow.
“More than that. Anyone can read fortunes if they learn the language of the cards, of the palm. It’s the third eye, the ability to see what lies beyond the present…” She pulled her hand from his, grabbed her wineglass and took a quick swig.
The liquid blasted her mouth with its bittersweet shock. She put the glass down and tossed her head.
“It’s never done me any good. What’s the point of seeing the future? Better just to meet it when you get there.”
“Your family is going to have a fit if you lose your powers.”
“No, they won’t. They won’t even know. I can fake it.”
“No you can’t.” Joe leaned forward, eyes narrowed, glittering in the candlelight. “I don’t know you well, but I know you’re no faker. You’d rather eat glass than tell a lie.”
“Oh yeah? Like you said, you don’t know me so well.” She narrowed her own eyes, matching his intense stare, meeting him blow for blow.
Of course he was right, but there was no need to let him know that.
She sat back in her chair, lifting her shoulders and trying to show a confidence she didn’t feel. “I’m sick of sitting in a dusty storefront telling fortunes all day.”
“What do you want to do?”
She blinked. She’d never spoken aloud about her dream. It was her secret. Once she put it into words she could be mocked, laughed at, pitied.
She fingered her wineglass. “I’d like to be a psychologist.” Spoken out loud it sounded pretentious. She waved her hand in the air as if she could erase the words. She’d removed her bracelets and the lack of expected sound startled her, increasing her embarrassment.
Joe’s eyebrow lifted. “That sounds like a great idea. Why not?”
“I didn’t even finish high school.”
Sorry Susana, we need you to start earning.
“So? You can get a GED, go to college.”
Her mouth twitched. That was her plan. The one she’d turned over in her mind night after night alone in her bed. Her impossible dream.
To hear it coming out of someone else’s mouth made it sound just a little bit possible.
“Do you really think I can?”
“Of course.” Joe looked perplexed, as if he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t doing it already.
Breaking the Rules Page 9
