Knight in Tattooed Armor: International Billionaires XII: The Latinos

by Caro LaFever

  Riq didn’t allow himself to glance farther down. There was enough to take in with only her face.

  “I know.” She grimaced, her hand lifting to her blonde hair. “I’m a mess.”

  Women were utterly strange. You’d think he’d know that after growing up with his mimi and yaya. They both spent hours on their clothes, and never thought to leave the house without primping their hair and putting on lipstick.

  He’d never understood it.

  He liked women as they were. There was glory in the simplicity of eyelashes not caked with mascara, or the relaxed female body dressed in only yoga pants and a simple shirt. Since his experience with women in the last few years had been more sexual flings than living day to day, it hit him again how strange they were.

  “I’m not that bad,” said the strange woman in front of him. Her grimace turned into an annoyed expression.

  She wasn’t bad at all. That was the problem.

  Swinging back to the steaming food, he grabbed the bag filled with spaghetti and extended it her way. “Here.”

  She sniffed her continued indignation before taking the packet. “At least it smells good.”

  “It fills the stomach.” He stared at the beef brisket, trying to stop himself from thinking about what was going to happen after they ate.

  The bed.

  The single bed.

  Why hadn’t he thought about that before now?

  Jiggs barked.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Glad to be distracted, at least for a few minutes, he plopped his own meal on the counter and pulled the small cooler out from under the sink to yank it open.

  His buddy was going to eat better than the humans tonight. “Grab your bowl, Jiggster.”

  The dog scrambled to the blue plastic bowl Riq had brought over from the mainland. His buddy had two bowls and two doggie beds. One at the condo, one on the island. It had been smart of him to bring the condo’s version over and store it here in the shelter, just in case. When Jiggs didn’t have his bowl and his bed, he tended toward erratic, whiny behavior.

  Exactly like a woman.

  The thought made his temper sour. Hell, no. His buddy was a full-out male bulldog.

  “I need you to tie another knot.”

  He glanced up to meet her navy-blue eyes. Without thinking it through, his gaze dropped to her waist. The one flash of a glance told him she wasn’t wearing her bra anymore, which meant she wasn’t wearing panties, either. “Do it yourself.”

  “What’s with you?” she snapped. “You were laughing two minutes ago.”

  He had been. The reality still astounded him—not because she’d amused him once more, but that he’d felt as if they were laughing together, not him laughing at her. Ignoring her, because he didn’t know what to say to that new reality, he pulled out two of the four plastic containers he’d stored here this afternoon.

  Jiggs clattered the bowl on the floor right next to his bare foot, the heat of his panting breath sliding along Riq’s leg.

  “I got your back, boy.” He poured the crumbled raw beef and organs into the bowl, and then added the mix of carrots and kale. Swishing with his fingers, he pushed the meal in front of his buddy. “Go to it, Jiggs.”

  The dog woofed once before diving into his meal.

  “I didn’t know you fed a dog real food. I thought there was special food for them. I see it when I go to the grocery store.”

  Her naïve comment made him smile, and he couldn’t help himself.

  He glanced at her once again.

  She still stood right where she’d been since she’d walked out of the bathroom. She still held her packaged dinner, and with her other hand, she still held onto the waistband of his gym shorts. There was no whisper of princesa swirling around her anymore. Maurisa Migneault looked like just a pretty girl he’d approach at the beach. A girl who’d smile at him, not because he was a Marine or had bad-boy tattoos, but because she genuinely liked him and wanted to be with him.

  That was as much of a mirage as the princesa herself.

  Grabbing two bottles of water, he stood and slammed the cooler shut. He reached for his cooling food. Flipping one plastic spoon her way, he grabbed his.

  Her spoon clattered to the floor.

  Without a second’s pause, he flipped the bottle of water her way too. A typical girl, she didn’t end up catching the bottle, either. It clattered to the floor as well, rolling into the corner by the bed.

  “I need this knotted before I can eat,” she stated, her expression growing impatient.

  Her demand, along with her inability to catch what he threw at her, turned his continuing amusement to annoyance. “Eat your food before it gets cold.”

  With a huff, she leaned down, snagged the utensil and stomped to the bare mattress, the only place to sit in the shelter. She plopped on the bed, her expression filling with exasperation. But instead of unloading it on him, she stuck the spoon in her bag and pulled out a mouthful. “Isn’t there a fork? It would be easier to eat this with a fork.”

  Amusement rumbled back. Just as expected, she was going to give him hours of fun while she whined and demanded and acted like the princesa she was. “No fork.”

  Shrugging, she stuck the spaghetti in her mouth.

  A low hum of female approval zipped along the steel floor and straight up his leg to his eager cock.

  “Coño,” he muttered.

  Her head swung toward him, her mouth chewing on the noodles until she swallowed. “Why are you swearing again? This food is actually tasty.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He tried to regain his sense of superiority. “I ate it for years.”

  “That’s right.” She focused on her dinner once more, stirring the spaghetti in the bag. “Charlie told me.”

  “What did he tell you?” Knowing his friend, it would be a mix of tall tales and subtle teases. He doubted she’d learned anything of importance about him.

  “He said you’d been a Marine for seven years.”

  Not something he hid from anyone, including nosy girls.

  She took another bite and hummed once more.

  To distract his cock, Riq took his own bite of brisket. His cock didn’t care about the food. It continued to grow, sliding along the cool, silky nylon of his gym shorts.

  “He also said you were a good guy.” She made a face at him before taking another bite.

  “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  Her smug, disbelieving expression, a taunt if he’d ever seen one, turned to pure amusement. “Are you saying you’re not?”

  “I’m not copping to anything Charlie said.”

  Her chuckle gave him a full erection. He swiveled to lean on the counter, pressing his hard flesh on the cool steel.

  “And finally, he told me you got hurt.”

  Riq hated the look on her face now. A mix of compassion and pity. “Nothing worth talking about.”

  Her blonde brows rose and her gaze flickered to his knee. The surgery hadn’t left awful scars, only normal ones. Mostly on the back of his leg. So she didn’t have much more to be compassionate about, to his relief. “Enough to force you to quit the Marines.”

  “Quit the SEALs,” he murmured the correction, because he didn’t want to let her know it mattered.

  She caught the words, though. Her eyes widened. “You were a SEAL?”

  Not hungry anymore, he threw the package filled with half-eaten brisket into the garbage. Jiggs did his job of acting as a distraction by finishing his meal and, as always, hurtling his empty bowl into a corner.

  She chuckled again. “He looks like he wants more.”

  “A bulldog always wants more.” He kneeled down to pat his boy and tried to mask the wince when his knee cracked.

  “That’s why you limp, right?” The princesa might be a spoiled, pampered girl, but if there was one thing he’d come to understand, it was that she was smart and quick.

  “Time for bed.”

  His booming try for more distraction echoed in the r
oom and his brain jumped back to what he’d momentarily contemplated minutes ago.

  The bed.

  The single bed.

  And only one pillow and blanket he’d brought down from the house.

  At his words, she stood, grabbed her waistband, and walked to the garbage with her empty bag. “I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s only fair.”

  He didn’t like this girl-woman. He didn’t like her assumption that her life should be perfect and everything should come to her because she was a princesa. He didn’t like her condescending attitude and the way she’d looked down on him more than once.

  But the female understood the concept of fair.

  She had pride enough to step up to the plate and admit something that wasn’t to her benefit. He’d expected whining and demands. Not a blonde who stared him in the eye with her Marine-blue eyes and nodded her head with a decisive nod at her announcement.

  His cock roared its approval at the way his T-shirt slid off her shoulder and her long legs shone tan in the light. It didn’t seem to matter she stood in an awkward pose, her hand tight on the waistband of his shorts, her hair in disarray, her body swamped by his clothes. She still radiated a stubborn pride and a prettiness that nearly stole his breath.

  His own male pride stirred and came to attention.

  “No way.” He stood too. Along with his cock and his pride. “You get the bed. I get the floor.”

  Chapter 15

  She hadn’t expected honorable behavior from the caveman.

  Sure, he’d served their country, and sure, his friend, Charlie, had vouched for him. Yes, he was a SEAL, and even if she didn’t know a whole lot about them, she knew no ordinary man would make the cut. But not once in their entire acquaintance had he proved to be anything other than a jerk when all was said and done.

  He stared at her, his blue eyes keen, his stance relaxed. Yet, she detected a certain tension in the set of his shoulders.

  Then, she glanced down and realized what kind of tension it was exactly.

  Risa wasn’t a blusher, although she was blonde and her skin tended toward pale. In almost every situation she found herself in, she got her footing with ease. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t had many men panting for her. She didn’t think of it as quite her due, but close.

  So the caveman’s erection, something she’d experienced with him before, shouldn’t have caused her to blush.

  Except it did.

  With this man, she’d blushed more than with anyone else on earth. The thought didn’t please her.

  His eyes widened in evident surprise at her reaction and then, he glanced down at himself, too.

  His answering blush stunned her.

  This jerk? This Marine SEAL with big bucks and hard advice? This guy could blush?

  Her eyes widened as well.

  He coughed before pacing to the bed. Flipping open the green blanket, he gestured to the mattress. “Sorry, I didn’t bring sheets, too. I didn’t expect to spend more than a night here.”

  By myself.

  The unspoken words hovered between them.

  Unfamiliar guilt strummed through her, another feeling she hadn’t experienced often. But she didn’t usually barge onto an island and invade a man’s home. Only because her family situation was so dire had she done what she’d never done before.

  Be a pest.

  Be an uninvited guest. Be someone who irritated a man to the point of him being a jerk.

  It was only because of her family and their business, she wanted to wail.

  “Come on, and climb in.” He waved at the bed, “You’ll be totally comfortable, and tomorrow, I’ll make sure you get home in one piece.”

  Her eyes narrowed. He planned on getting rid of her that quickly? “Do you have a boat of your own?”

  “Yes,” he said, his jaw tightening. “Plenty big enough to ride the lingering waves of the hurricane back to Miami.”

  So, she only had this time. This smidgen of time to convince him about her plan.

  “Time for bed,” he intoned again, beginning to look impatient.

  “What time is it?”

  His thick, dark brows arched. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. I don’t go to bed before ten. We can talk.”

  The brows rose farther, and a hint of humor curled his lush lips. “Is that some sort of princess rule?”

  Ignoring his jibe, she glanced around the plain, steel-enclosed room. “Isn’t there a clock in here?”

  With a quick flick of his wrist, he pulled out a square black object from his pocket and inspected it. “It’s a little before nine p.m.”

  “What is that?” Intrigued, she bounded to his side and peered at the strange object.

  “It’s a pocket watch.” Instead of taking it away from her perusal, he held it out, his expression filling with a boyish pleasure, as if he were eager to show off his toy.

  The look on his face hit her like a brick to her chest. Not only did this man blush, he could appear adorable as well.

  “See,” he leaned closer, “there’s a dial for the month and year, and then one for the time, too.”

  Risa forced herself to focus on the manly toy.

  And what a toy.

  The watch wasn’t like anything she’d seen before. It had multiple dials and springs that made it look like a high-tech version of an ancient timepiece. “Can I hold it?”

  “Sure.” Surprising her again, he handed it over, and also pointed a blunt finger. “Here’s the month and here’s the hour. It’s connected to satellites, so it’s always adjusting wherever you are.”

  “That’s cool.” She found her focus fading from the watch, to be replaced by him. His warmth along her back and side, although he wasn’t touching her. The bigness of him encircling her.

  His distinctive spicy scent.

  Now that he was close and remained that way, her nose picked up the elements of the spice—a hint of sandalwood, a touch of cedar. A definite whiff of patchouli, something her grand-père often mentioned when he talked about blending his perfumes.

  Earthy, fiery, woodsy.

  “It is really cool, isn’t it?” His voice trilled in his Latino accent, and yet it still held the trace of toughness she’d come to expect. “I bought it after I made my first million.”

  Her determination to pitch returned. She and her family needed some of those funds. The thought galled her, but it was her new reality. And Maurisa Margot Migneault never shirked or hid from reality.

  Not now. Not when she was the only one who could make this happen. “Speaking of money.”

  His boyish eagerness blanked from his face in a flash, replaced by wariness. The mist blew across his blues eyes, hiding him from her. Hard muscles bunched in his biceps, and he took a step back, pocketing his watch. “What about money?”

  Cursing herself for the strategic error, she pinned on a smile. A smile that normally soothed any frowns and made new friends.

  He scowled, indicating he was back to being her enemy.

  “Since it isn’t time for bed,” she rushed in, “maybe I could tell you about my plans for my family’s perfumery.”

  “Plans?” His thick brows furrowed making his scowl fierce. “I told you, there are no plans that can save—”

  “I was thinking of going all natural.” Her hands tightened in front of her, in a sort of desperate prayer. “All-natural ingredients would fit in today’s market much better than the synthetics we use at the moment.”

  “I thought of that myself. But it will cost a fortune,” he scoffed. “One you don’t have, do you?”

  He’d come up with the same idea? The knowledge gave her a fresh spurt of hope and confidence. If he thought of it himself, then she was that much closer to convincing him of her plan.

  “No, I don’t.” She gulped in her pride and focused on the hope instead. “That’s why I came to your island. To talk to you.”

  The mention of her invasion didn’t help her cause. The caveman seemed to grow, his ches
t expanding with a harsh breath, his broad shoulders tightening into a wall of angry male. His legs planted themselves like the huge tree trunks his house swirled around. “Give it up, Princesa.”

  “No, I won’t. I have an amazing plan, if you’ll only listen.”

  “Okay.” He folded his arms in front of him, a signal of clear rejection. “Talk to me about your plan.”

  “Um…well…” she stammered to a stop before clutching her last hope in her hands and pushing forward. “I did.”

  Contempt crossed his face. “That’s it, sunshine? That’s all you’ve got?”

  Embarrassment surged inside. What had she been thinking, when she ran out here to confront this man? Why hadn’t she put together a business plan, as she’d been taught in some of the college classes she’d taken? Instead of speeding along with only her excitement, she should have calmed down and thought things through. She might have lost the last strand of hope Migneault Perfumery had. “I’ll put together—”

  “Too late.”

  “It’s never too late.”

  “Is that some saying you saw on a greeting card?” Blue eyes gleamed with sardonic humor.

  “N-no.”

  “If your daddy—” he rolled a sarcastic inflection over the last word “—couldn’t convince me—and he’s been a businessman for what? More than twenty years? Then your precious plans aren’t worth squat.”

  “Daddy didn’t think of going all natural and my plan could be—”

  “As you so easily showed a second ago.” He eyed her with distaste. “Basically, you’ve got nothing.”

  “I have a good idea.” Her palms were damp with distress, and also the unavoidable realization that the caveman might be a jerk, but he was right. “That’s a start.”

  He chuckled, a derisive sound. Leaning back on his heels, he looked at her as if she’d just rolled off the turnip truck and deserved everything she got.

  Which she probably did.

  Horror leached into her gut. She’d ruined this last chance. Her pride and arrogance had led her to run to this man far before she had things lined up to convince him.

  No wonder the Nose snorted.

  No wonder her daddy patted her on the head.