Tempting Isabel (Paradise South #1)

by Rissa Brahm

“Yeah, he was the other ‘knight in shining armor’ at the bar,” she said in a teasing tone, accompanied by a hint of surprise in her eyes, like Zack had worked magic somehow in knowing. But it took no fucking magic, the look of desperate need had been written all over that guy’s face that night.

  “Ah, yes, the other knight,” he cracked with a grin, her dig by no means escaping him. “So, you’ve been straight with him? About how you feel?”

  “Yes. I told him we needed a break. But he still showed up at the bar that night, among other things. But he’s a great guy, like a brother to me. And I didn’t know he saw me as anything but a sister. And then that one night happened, damn it!”

  “Isabel. Seriously? You have got to know that other than an actual blood brother, there isn’t a man on the planet who sees you as a sister.”

  She blushed a little, a modest smile lifting her face.

  “For a brilliant woman, you’re naïve as hell, you know that? Bordering on oblivious.” He nudged her with his elbow and grinned as a pack of young guys gawked at her, slowing their pace to a crawl as they went by. Zack cleared his throat. “See? My point.”

  She slapped his arm and then hooked hers through his. So naturally. They walked on in silence for a bit. Fuck, he liked this. Their vibe, their comfort level.

  “Hey…I’ve got my own stalker, so don’t get yourself a big head.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes it is so. The lovely maid of honor wants me. Bad.” His eyebrows lifted for emphasis. “And although I think the woman is certifiably insane, I might just have to snag myself a little wedding party hookup,” he teased, making Isabel purse her lips and cut him with a look. “What, you’re not allowed to play until after the wedding’s over,” he said, giving her more shit. She just blushed and shook her head at him.

  He was loving the subliminal confirmation he got back from her, that she wanted him, maybe even close to as much as he wanted her. But unlikely. Because although it would be his greatest wish, he doubted she could ever want him as infinitely as he wanted her.

  “You so should. I heard that she’s very…deep. She could tell you your horoscope while she has you chained to the refrigerator, and then she could make you a candlelit dinner with the bunny she killed!” She laughed. He loved that laugh of hers from the first time he’d heard it, albeit at his expense at the Five Breezes. It was a whole and hearty laugh, damn sexy, and it got his heart pounding every time.

  And that moved the conversation into the realm of endless antics about this wedding and past weddings Isabel had planned.

  “I’m used to drama, but the mother and sister of this bride are on a whole different level. I can already tell…a level only reserved for celebrity gigs! Not even my boss will have as many issues with the Marco event as—” She shut her mouth and covered it with her French-manicured fingers. A coy smile crept out from behind.

  “Something you aren’t supposed to say, Isabel? Half a secret is already spilled. Come on now.”

  “Can I trust you?”

  He could only smirk at her.

  “Seriously, if you even say anything to Darren…I can tell he’s the type who couldn’t keep the color of his morning piss from Amy. And sweet Amy…if she knew, her little bridesmaids would spread it far and wide for sure.”

  “I can keep a secret. It’s cool.” She gave a slantways look at him, needing more. “Okay, I promise!” he said laughing, hand over his heart.

  “Marco. Golden Rings is handling his wedding in Sayulita this weekend, the same day as your brother’s.”

  “Sorry, Isabel,” Zack replied, “but who’s Marco?”

  “Seriously? And you say you’re loyal to Vallarta. Hell, are you loyal to planet Earth? The guy is hot the world over! ‘Struck by Luck’?”

  “Yeah, I know that song!” He hated that damn song, and it played incessantly on the rental car’s preprogrammed radio stations. “Just from being down here this trip, though. What can I say? I’m a healthy blend of world traveling ex-womanizer and introverted loner.”

  “Or just deaf!” She laughed.

  He gave her a look along with a nudge from his overpowering right shoulder. It knocked her off balance but he quickly put his arms around her, preventing her fall. Her body’s warmth caught him off guard, having been so hands-off all night. He allowed his grasp to linger there. He had to, or his fuses would short circuit, the stark contrast without her warming vibration would do that, he knew.

  So he held on to her, his arms around her waist, his hands flat on her side, just until she looked up at him with a blink and a smile. And God, she melted him with that damn smile.

  *

  He wished the night would last forever, her arm in his as they walked, their conversation picking up from where it had paused with her near fall.

  “So, yeah, I guess the whole global Marco phenomenon isn’t my thing. I’m actually all about 90s rock, you know, the dark, head-banging stuff,” he said. “What about you?”

  For a split second she had a definite and excited spark in her eyes, which she blinked away on the next beat, as if they might have that in common, and weirdly, she wouldn’t dare admit it. She only shrugged. “Not much time for music of my own choosing. Just playlists for you know, weddings…”

  Hmmm. “Except for dance music. Strong beats, yes? Like at La Sexta?”

  She threw him a coy smile. “Not so much to listen to on my back deck, but yes, to dance to. Like at the club.”

  God she got him so hot. And just thinking about how she moved her body against his those nights at the club. Hell, he would’ve done anything to get her back to his suite right now—off the clock.

  But he maintained. He actually only thought about slipping himself inside her hot velvet sweetness every few minutes, as opposed to every other second. Because she honestly intrigued him, captivated him like no other woman had, way beyond her exasperating sexual magnetism. He really could listen to her stories, her laugh, her voice all night long.

  But, he couldn’t lie—that creamy, sensual voice calling out his name over and over again while he brought her to the brink the other night would have been more than welcome, too.

  *

  They got lost in conversation, in each other, for what turned into hours. They talked about their upbringings. He loved hearing about her large family, twelve children in all. Jesus! And he wasn’t surprised to know she was the youngest, she had fight in her, something to prove. And in a family that large, he could only imagine how much she’d had to fight and prove just to survive.

  They shared more lifetime details. He’d foregone college while Isabel told him about taking night courses in secret on her own dime. Zack had flown around the globe in his own private jet by age twenty-two while she had never left ‘her’ Mexico.

  He told her of his lofty adventures, catching the sense of wonder in her eyes. “I just can’t imagine it, a life filled with just…anything you could want. It sounds like…heaven,” she said.

  “But of all that excitement, luxury, and comfort…all the women…none of it amounted to anything real. Nothing lasting.” He looked at her to be sure she caught his deeper admission––all the women––and his regret for having unconsciously insulted her when they first met, the whole panties-caper. But more than that, he realized now the waste of time, energy, heart, and soul that his splurges had sucked from him.

  But not anymore.

  “I’ve had this pit in my gut, Isabel, like I have everything in the world, but nothing at the same time. The richest food doesn’t last past the moments on your tongue, you know? It is all so damn…fleeting. Until this trip to Vallarta.”

  She stared at him as if he was from a different planet. Did she get that it was her who had plugged the dam for him? Or did she just think he was a spoiled asshole complaining about the pains of being wealthy as hell?

  “I can’t really relate, but I guess on a much less expensive scale…here I am, living in paradise. Foreigners look at me, maybe envious of m
e, being able to go to these amazing beaches, surf, breathe this fresh ocean air twenty-four-seven. Oh, hell, never mind…it is flippin’ amazing here, and it’s real to me every day.” She laughed. “They should be jealous!”

  He laughed, loving her energy and how perfectly fulfilled she was with her home, the simply spectacular paradise of Puerto Vallarta.

  She went on, her voice a melody. “I mean, I imagine life is tough, relatively speaking, for everyone, everywhere. Either physically, mentally, or emotionally, right? Or all three combined! But anyway, for me, when I can’t find a reason to get out of bed, I hear the ocean right behind my house and it all fades away.”

  He was lulled by her words and felt calmed with the hope that maybe she did understand. Maybe he wasn’t alone in the stoic nothingness he felt, especially when he was without her. Then he remembered her scars, her marks of misery indelibly splayed on her wrist, and the pain they represented. With no further talk of it, he could trust that she understood the void, probably better than he did, he being a newer member to the ‘reality club.’ He guessed from her scars that her pain ran several long years deep. Forever and a day deep, even.

  Isabel’s surfing stories brought him back to present. Her vivid details let Zack imagine her as a little girl fighting mammoth waves and killing it. He smiled because he’d always been scared shitless of surfing, since childhood actually. This woman just kicked his ass at every corner. “I feel most alive when I’m in the water, even though, God, I haven’t surfed in years.” She trailed off, obviously nostalgic, missing it beyond words.

  “I’ve always been kind of afraid of the ocean, the jellyfish and sharks.” He laughed. “And the waves, and the undertow. Ever since I was a kid.”

  A sweet sympathy crossed her face in response to his admission.

  “But, hey, you have enough courage for the both of us, and I just might be ready to conquer my fear now. You can give me a surfing lesson or two, that is, of course, after the wedding’s over. I need to start small, but I’d trust my life in your hands, Isabel Ruiz.” He smiled at her, but after having put it out there, he both loved and despised his own grand idea. The great, unknown sea—shit, it really more than terrified him. But solidifying a time and place to see her again, he was in love with that thought.

  But not so much for her. Her response was only a polite, thin-lipped smile. Warm to cold in an instant.

  They walked on, her silence strangling him breathless. Why the sudden shift? She’d basically drowned his attempt. What the hell? The vibe they’d shared throughout the night was so palpable, without a doubt. And he wanted more of it. He wanted to see this woman again, and again, but for some reason, she just left him dangling there.

  *

  Okay, fine. He was catching on, getting to know her nature. So she was a precision planner by trade, but again, personally, she dreaded the thought of long-term anything. Like he dreaded a shark attack. And again, he’d lived with the relationship-fear too. But Isabel had changed that for him, and, so help him, he would change it for her in return.

  But for now, he would merely change the subject, but strategically so.

  He opened up about his mother, and her past, a difficult subject for him. He figured the more he gave Isabel, the more she’d lower her defenses. And she already knew the deep and dirty about his father, albeit forced upon him. But not having spoken to anyone about his family matters—ever, with anyone—it felt strangely liberating talking to her about it all. Therapeutic. Cathartic, even.

  “And, wow, was she the greatest cook, especially expert at anything seafood. It was like she was meant for Vallarta.” He smiled at the memories flooding his mind. Elaine James’ most glorious days had been in the kitchen of the condo they’d had there, the one he’d just purchased.

  “Tell me more,” Isabel said, a tender smile all the way up to her eyes.

  “Darren, my father and I would go out fishing, and when we got back, Mom would be ready for us and our catches.”

  “Wait, you guys took a relaxing fishing excursion then she did all the hard work?”

  “No, no. Let me tell you how it went. The one who caught the biggest fish, almost always me, would get to skip out on cleaning and scaling. And, oh man, did I love watching Darren and my father roll their eyes at me as I announced the score of whatever game I was watching from the oh-so-comfortable couch.” He laughed and Isabel raised her eyebrows at him.

  “Anyway, once they finished the prep for Mom, she’d prepare such a delicious feast, and no two meals ever tasted the same. Every time, a completely unique flavor. Unbelievable. I can still taste her mahi-mahi…”

  “Sounds amazing.”

  “Yes, incredible. But she hasn’t cooked a single dish since he left. All of Elaine James vanished the day my father did.” Zack sucked in his bottom lip in thought. “After the initial years, with her pain pill dependency which almost killed her several times over, she started to get better. More stable. Sliding toward stoic. But always a little sad.”

  She kept quiet, but nodded, like she knew he needed the silence. Shit. He regretted bringing the mood so low. He sighed, then tried like hell to cut off the thoughts whirling in his head—his mother’s lack of laughter over the years, her cracked heart.

  Just then, a mariachi trio came upon them—a joyous serenade for “la encantadora pareja!” sang the leader.

  “Oh, no, please. We aren’t…a couple!” But Isabel couldn’t be heard over the band, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Zack pulled her into him, then swung her around and around while imitating the merry music with his deep baritone. She laughed so hard she could hardly catch her breath, and he only let her pull away when she began coughing.

  Holding her chest to calm her breathing, her eyes searched his. What she found, he wasn’t sure, but she surprised him by pulling him by the hand, away from the spotlight to continue their stroll.

  Man, had she forgotten herself, or lost too much oxygen during their exhilarating mockery of a dance? Because the warmth she was showing him was definitely uncharacteristic in the scope of their “act,” but it was welcome, definitely more than welcome.

  *

  They hit the end of the marina’s boardwalk, and he turned, assuming she’d want to head back. But Isabel stayed put. Zack returned to her side when a light laugh escaped her lips.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, nothing…just how hooked I am on this breeze. It reminds me—oh, God, never mind.”

  “That’s not allowed, now. No, not cool at all. Whatever it is can’t be more personal than your surgical-style meddling into my family’s history…or our…” He paused and leaned into her, that coconut scent tickling his receptors. “Our hours of love making.”

  She gave a little huff, then spun around to face him. Lips pursed, gorgeous and unfairly mesmerizing eyes narrowed, she said, “I mean it, Zack James. We’re strangers. Remember?”

  She was so obviously convincing herself as much as she was reminding him that it was almost comical. And cruelly, he loved the struggle written all over her face. The effect he had on her was as real as the impact she had on him. She couldn’t deny it, but he knew she wouldn’t admit it either, at least not now, not tonight, and not until after the wedding.

  But it made him feel fucking great. Reciprocated. Un-alone in the merciless vulnerability.

  When she tore her gaze away and set her sights back out on the bay, he took one last whiff of her hair and pivoted. “Strangers, of course. Right. Better get back now, stranger. You coming?”

  She took his arm again, just like strangers do, of course, and they made the long walk back to the start of the marina, their conversation flowing like an elaborate fountain.

  Again, like strangers in the night.

  *

  Her stomach grumbled. It was loud enough to interrupt their chatter about nothing and everything. Her cheeks instantly blushed. “I guess the ice cream wasn’t enough for me. Are you hungry?”

  God, he adored her. “
Definitely. What fabulous Mexican fare in this international foodie haven shall we throw down, Senorita?” It seemed that all the locals ate dinner late, so all the food spots up and down the boardwalk were still serving.

  “Pizza.”

  “Pizza? Really?”

  She shrugged, a childlike smile lifting her face.

  He snorted and took her hand. “Take me to pizza.”

  She nodded at a stall two down from the enticing Mexican restaurant.

  Within minutes they had greasy New York style slices in their hands. Sitting shoulder to shoulder at the counter, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. For food, that is.

  “Oh, can you pass me that bottle?” Her mouth was half full, but she was still sexy as hell. Even with a string of melted mozzarella hanging from the corner of her delectable mouth. How he wanted to lick it right off her. So badly.

  “What, the ketchup?”

  “Yes, please.” Her tone, sweet-but-sassy.

  “Ketchup…with pizza?” There was no way he couldn’t tease her. Not a chance. But, damn it, he couldn’t pay attention to anything but the cheese teasing him from the corner of her mouth. Screw it. He moved his thumb to her bottom pout, wiped the food away, and licked his thumb. “Now I can focus on your…interesting…choice of pizza condiments.” He smirked as her eyes went from wide-surprise to narrowed-and-defensive in a split second.

  “That’s how we eat pizza here. It’s a thing, it’s good! Now pass it down, por favor.”

  But he’d snatched the bottle before she could get it. He’d hold it hostage. Why? Because, aside from the sacrilege of dousing pizza in sweet ketchup, he just craved her raw attention in whatever form he could get it.

  She rolled her eyes, huffed, then reached over him, her body now pressed against his, trying like hell to grab the bottle. “Give it! I want what I want!”

  Want. Need. Her words, her scent, her skin, her entire being overwhelmed him. Invaded his senses. Like she’d taken him by storm just the night before. In his penthouse suite. God, only one night ago! And while she still fought for the ketchup bottle he held just out of reach, her neck, her ear, her cheek were all just within biting distance. Nibbling and nuzzling distance. Necking, kissing, caressing distance.