by Taylor Lee
Viviana waited as long as she could, not intending to interrupt him, but when his pained silence continued, she asked for a third time, “I hate to be a one-track record, Enrique, but how the hell did you go from that cesspool to running for the governor of California?”
Again, he shrugged. “If I had to choose one word, it would be luck. But to be honest, what I said earlier is more truthful. I was lucky and ruthless.” He studied her through narrowed eyes and said carefully, “I don’t think I have to explain to you what the hell I mean by that.”
Viviana nodded in agreement. “No, you don’t, Enrique. To survive what you and Nicolas did took more than luck. I hadn’t thought about it before, but ruthless is a good word. It speaks to a determination to survive and never let anyone hurt you the way that they did in the past.”
To her surprise, Enrique pulled a chair up next to her and reached for her hands. She was startled by his frankly aggressive move. When she tried to pull back, he frowned and shook his head. “Please don’t, Viviana. I know what I’m about to suggest is outrageous, and the chance that you will accept is next to nil. But please hear me out.”
Viviana struggled to stifle the sensations caused by the churning cement mixer that had taken up residence in her stomach. She tried to focus on his outlandish proposal, but the unwanted awareness of his unique masculine fragrance as he moved in even closer to her, his eyes blazing with intensity, made it difficult to concentrate. Later, she would congratulate herself for taking command of the untenable situation, making it as clear to him as she could that it was challenging at best that she would agree.
He nodded as if expecting her response. “I understand, Viviana. I just ask you to consider my request. I promise you I won’t take advantage of you. I can’t explain it. Perhaps my feelings for you have tainted my judgement. It’s just that I’ve never told anyone except Nicolas and Sonia the things that I told you. In a strange but compelling way, I feel that you understand. And I hope to God that you won’t judge me for my past.”
****
After what seemed like endless conversations with supporters and potential donors, Viviana headed to her car, surprised at how tired she was. At the same time, in a weird, conflicting way, she was energized. The intimate conversation with Enrique had touched her at a hidden place deep in her psyche. It was a tormented place she’d never revealed to anyone except Jax. She wondered if at some point she would trust Enrique enough to confide in him. She doubted it. It was hard enough that Jax knew her ugly past. Even though she was confident that the compelling candidate would understand and not judge her, she knew that coming to grips with her past was a journey she needed to take alone. Not even Jax could join her, no matter how much he insisted that he could and would.
Pulling into his garage, she couldn’t deny the budding excitement she felt. It was a heady realization that another accomplished leader—make that two leaders if she included Nicolas Garza—had withstood and survived a past as hideous as her own. In a revolutionary thought, she wondered if she could have an even bigger impact than she already had as a renegade cop. What if she could help a formidable candidate who was as dedicated as she was to righting the wrongs a hideous industry had wrought? The idea that the upstart candidate might actually pull out an unexpected victory because of her involvement was energizing. With a wry chuckle, she thought that might be the most efficacious use of her star power she could imagine.
Even as she thought it, she admitted that accepting Enrique’s challenging proposition was certain to meet with strong resistance. As she walked in the front door, the tantalizing odor of cigar smoke and the overwhelmingly masculine presence of her lover confirmed where that resistance would come from.
Chapter 20
Not seeing Jax in the living room, where she’d expected him to be, Viviana emitted a guilty sigh. Given that it was so late, she wondered if he was sleeping. The possibility of avoiding what she knew would be a difficult conversation was an intoxicating thought, one that she quickly squashed. The idea that Jax would go to bed without her after she’d spent ten plus hours with the Vega campaign, specifically with Vega himself, was a non-starter.
A quick tour of the main floor confirmed that her compelling lover had to be up on their rooftop patio. Sucking in a deep breath, Viviana squared her shoulders and began to climb the stairway ladder to the sanctuary of his impressive condominium. Reaching the top rung and not seeing him, her jangled nerves momentarily released, as did her shallow breath. Seconds later, she saw him, and it became abundantly clear why her anxiety was justified. It wasn’t that he looked angry, because he looked surprisingly calm and relaxed. No, she decided it would have been easier if he’d met her with the anger she was sure he was feeling. That she could handle. What she couldn’t handle was him.
He was leaning against the railing, clearly waiting for her. In that brief moment, she understood how thoroughly the commanding man had captured her. How could he not? Even in sweatpants and a tee shirt, his tall, lean physique was riveting. The muscles on his chest and arms rippled as he turned to greet her. The tufts of curly black hair she spotted at the neckline of his casual shirt spoke to the sexy hair that trailed down his impressive chest and stomach to his groin. She should have been gratified to see the bulge tenting his loose pants, knowing that just the sight of her aroused him. Instead, the rocketing sensations raging between her thighs confirmed that his presence alone had thoroughly undone her. She was hard pressed not to cry out at the need that swept over her.
As if his body and aura weren’t compelling enough, a sexy smile curved his lips when he turned toward her. He inclined his head and motioned to her. When she found that she couldn’t move, given that breathing was her biggest challenge at the moment, he narrowed his eyes and said in a sexy drawl, “C’mere, you.”
In seconds, Jax ate up the space between them and captured her in his arms. For several long moments, he held her trembling body close, rubbing her back, murmuring soft, loving words. When she seemed to be somewhat in control of her emotions, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. Rubbing at the tears on her cheeks with his thumb, he shook his head, making it clear that he understood her emotional response likely better than she did. Jax was gratified when she gave in to his strength and clung to him.
Jax held her next to him until her sighs and shaky trembles lessened. Leaning down, he scraped his beard shadow against the sensitive skin below her ear, pleased at her startled shudder. For the next several moments, Jax planted soft kisses and then light bites along the tender places on her neck, finally reaching her lips. Rather than attack her luscious mouth the way his amped-up body was begging him to do, he merely rubbed a calloused finger over her plump lips and said, “Yeah, tiger. I’m glad to see you too.”
When she met his gaze, her luminous azure eyes swimming with tears, she asked in a quaking voice, “Are . . . are you angry with me, Jax?”
He didn’t bother to mask his frown. Instead, he shook his head. “No, sweetheart. I’m not angry, but . . . I am concerned.”
When she closed her eyes and just leaned against him, he paused, then decided to change the subject. “Knowing you as well as I do, Viviana, I gotta ask. Have you had anything to eat?”
Seeing her surprised frown, he knew it was unlikely that she’d had anything but her morning coffee. Her fatigue was written all over her face and body. No question that she was riding on empty in more ways than one. He was glad that he’d been somewhat honest when he told her that he was concerned, not angry. He knew only too well that his subterranean anger could surface at any moment. It was a release that he refused to allow himself. At the moment, his main concern was a very fragile-looking Viviana.
He leaned down, pinched her cheek, and said in mock dismay, “What am I going to do with you, sweetheart? If I know you as well as I do, I’ll bet my snazzy Romeo that you haven’t had anything to eat since last night, when I plied you with a dozen sensuous tidbits from the picnic basket Dawg Hanson packed for u
s.”
Viviana looked up in surprise and asked incredulously, “You mean that crazy swamp lizard of a special operative truly packed that basket? The one with the grilled octopus and . . . sashimi?”
Jax laughed. “Yes, that same good ole boy who also included fruit, fresh vegetables, and my favorite—the makings of s’mores. At least I think that was what we were supposed to do with that marshmallow cream and chocolate sauce . . . ”
He was gratified that the flush staining her cheeks confirmed that the remarkable night they’d spent together hadn’t been completely displaced by their decidedly challenging day. Determined to build on the memory of their adventure on his yacht, Jax reached for her hand. Leading her over in front of the blazing fireplace, he nudged her onto the sofa and sank down beside her. Pointing to the opulent feast arranged on the low table in front of them, he said, “I did my best to emulate Dawg’s inspired refreshments . . . sans the marshmallow cream and sticky chocolate.”
Seeing a fresh rush of tears flooding her eyes, Jax put his arm around her shoulders and said in mock annoyance, “Uh-uh, sweetheart. No tears or I’m going to think you don’t like salmon tartare and dill sauce or roasted vegetables with figs and fresh cranberries.” When she leaned into him, trying to stifle her sobs, he tugged her closer. “Listen up, Sergeant Moreau, it’s clear you’ve had a long day and if it was anything like mine, a challenging one.” Feeling her stiffen at his allusion to the day that was on both of their minds, he held her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“We’ll get to that discussion later, sweetheart, but right now, I intend for you to eat every bite of this expensive gourmet food that Delmonico’s prepared for you or . . . ” He paused dramatically, then added, “Or I will have to hold you on my lap and feed you one succulent morsel at a time . . . ” Smiling at her shivering tremor to his sexy threat, he piled pieces of the delectable feast on a small plate and handed it to her, then rose to his feet. “While you get started on this, tiger, I will pour us each a glass of wine, unless you prefer scotch.”
She shook her head and murmured, “Wine, please.”
He agreed and reached for the bottle of Cave de Turckheim Pinot Gris he’d been chilling in the ice bucket on the counter. After he poured them each a glass of the fragrant wine, he turned to the speaker column nearby and said, “Alexa, play Chris Botti.”
Seeing the fresh flood of tears filling her vivid blue eyes when the trumpet’s soulful notes filled the air, he sank down next to her and said in a teasing voice, “Now, now, little girl, if everything I do makes you cry, does that mean I’m going to have to change my ways?” He hesitated for a moment and then said, “Perhaps try to love you less?” At her startle, he shook his head. “No worries, Sergeant Moreau, loving you less is as impossible as telling the sun to rise in the west and set in the east. No, sweetheart. You’re just going to have to accept the fact that I’m hopelessly, ass-over-elbows in love with you, and I will never, ever let you go.”
****
Viviana woke the next morning vaguely remembering falling asleep in Jax’s arms. She wasn’t surprised that she’d given in to the exhaustion that had made it impossible for her to stay awake. She had fleeting memories of him undressing her and laying her naked body on the full-sized chaise lounge where they often slept under the stars. Her most vivid memory was his strong body next to hers and his arms securely around her.
The smell of rich, dark coffee coupled with the equally enticing odor of cinnamon and bacon brought her to full consciousness. Tugging the sheet around her to shield her naked body from his grinning approach, she was surprised to see him carrying a tray, which he set down on the table next to her. The steaming mug of fragrant coffee was expected but the lavish feast beside it was anything but. When she started to churlishly remind him that she didn’t eat breakfast, he raised his hand and shook his head.
“Uh-uh, darlin’. I’m done with your ‘I never eat breakfast’ routine. The fact that you looked like a shipwreck survivor when you finally came home last night has convinced me that you clearly need a firmer hand.” Grinning at her quick blush, he added, “Full disclosure, Sergeant Moreau. We’re going to change our ways, starting now.” Glancing at her naked body, he winked at her. “If you eat your breakfast like a good girl, I might even let you put on some clothes.” He reached for the virtually transparent slip of a robe that was one of his favorites on the back of the lounge and said with a sly smile, “As long as it doesn’t obscure the remarkable view in front of me at the moment.”
As she slipped on the robe, he handed her the coffee mug and waved at the rest of the impressive breakfast on the tray. “Yes, we are definitely going to change our ways. I have it from Mick O’Reilly, your all-knowing partner, that not only do you like omelets stuffed with veggies and loaded with cheese, but gooey caramel rolls are one of your secret addictions. According to Mick, hearing your satisfied sighs as you picked your way through a thousand-calorie caramel pecan roll silenced a café full of flushed men.”
Remembering the scene at Jack’s Warm Buns coffee shop, Viviana blushed, knowing that what she was sure was Mick’s over-the-top rendition was too close to the truth to deny. Instead, she gave an exasperated snort. “Really, Jax. You know how Mick exaggerates . . . ”
Jax cocked a brow as he sat down beside her and nudged the heaping tray closer to her. “Yes, I do. I also know that, in his own way, he loves and admires you as he does none other. And like me, Viviana, your partner is concerned about you.”
When she put her fork down and pressed her lips together, refusing to acknowledge his implication, Jax reached for her hand. “We missed you at Flemings last night, Viviana. Not happily, Mick observed that it was the third time you’d skipped a planned get-together with the team.”
Viviana hesitated, then tossed her head defiantly. “I know you think I was blowing off my work, Jax, but you need to understand. Yesterday was important to me. I . . . I came to grips with a challenging realization.” She hesitated and then added, “I think we’ve been deluding ourselves, Jax.” Pulling the robe tighter around her, she rose to a sitting position and pinned him with an impassioned gaze. “We think we can make a dent in the drug trade, actually have an effect on human trafficking. We’ve convinced ourselves that we can do what no other police force has been able to do. That somehow we can stop the violence that is hurting innocent people.”
Seeing his frown and knowing that she sounded a little unhinged, Viviana found she couldn’t stop. She needed to make him understand how serious she was. She’d spent the day slowly coming to the conclusion that Enrique Vega might actually win the governorship, and when he did, he could have a much greater impact on the issues she cared about than she and Jax could.
Putting her coffee cup on the table next to the overflowing plate of food, she met Jax’s questioning frown. “You don’t know him, Jax. Enrique is a powerful man, an inspirational one.” Seeing his eyes narrow, she said defensively, “I know you don’t agree, but you don’t know him the way that I do.” Unwilling to back down, she continued. “Jax, if you knew his story, what he went through as a child, a teenager, and then as a young man, you would know that he is a survivor. He has overcome almost insurmountable odds to become the powerful, inspirational leader he is today.”
Jax pressed his lips together and said in a careful tone, “It’s obvious you admire him, Viviana, and I agree. Vega is a charismatic figure. However, whether he can win the election is questionable at best.”
She flared. “Why, because you’ve written him off? As an upstart, an usurper? That he’s using me to gain credibility? Shine in my supposed ‘aura’?”
At his quirked brow and assenting shrug, Viviana felt a rush of anger. Before she could stop herself, ugly words sprang from her lips. “How could you understand, Jax? What do you know about abuse and the way shame can affect your life? How hard it is to survive, to believe in yourself, much less become the remarkable leader that Enrique is? He endured hideous abuse and look where h
e is today. An impressive candidate who might very well be the next governor of California.”
Seeing Jax’s rigid expression and knowing that nothing she said would change the way he thought about Vega, she sniffed dismissively. “Of course, the only thing you care about is how you’re convinced he just wants to get in my pants. I’m not surprised that you don’t see him for what he is. How could you? Unlike Enrique and me, you were born with three silver spoons in your mouth. You had wealthy, successful, educated parents who adored you. You were told on a daily basis how wonderful you are. How could you possibly relate to Enrique . . . and, frankly, to me?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop right there, Viviana.”
Chapter 21
Jax’s harsh expression and fierce tone startled Viviana. Seeing him struggle with his clear anger and attempt to contain his response, Viviana knew she’d gone too far. His next words confirmed that she’d launched a far more dangerous missile than she’d intended.
Smashing his lips together in a hard, straight line, Jax spoke in a measured tone. It was clear he was choosing each word carefully. Even so, his response vibrated with emotion. “I need you to know, Viviana, that may be one of the most hurtful things anyone has ever said to me. That you said them is beyond painful.” He blew out a hard breath and continued. “What hurts more than your rash, hateful words is your seeming belief that I’m incapable of understanding the wretched childhood that you and, apparently, Vega had.”
He leaned forward and pinned her with a harsh glare. “But let’s forget Vega, Viviana. Let’s talk about you and me. Do you honestly believe that I’m not torn apart by the abuse you suffered? That I haven’t made it my life’s mission to run down the despicable men and, yes, the woman, who abused you? That I haven’t convened a team of high-level operatives who are going to hell and back to help me bring those despicable criminals the ferocious justice they deserve?”
