His Kind of Trouble

by Samantha Hunter

  * * *

  ANA AWOKE WITH A SMILE as she realized that she was alone in Chance’s bed. The storm had passed and sunlight glittered off the leaves and plants that surrounded the veranda.

  Checking the clock, her eyes widened. She’d slept very late. Well, late for her. Chance should have awakened her, but then again, if he had, they would likely still be in bed, anyway, she thought, grinning.

  Chance had been amazing. He’d excited her like no other lover she’d had.

  What a night it had been. Her body felt tender from use but totally relaxed as only a passionate night of sex with a wonderful man could make happen. She wanted more. Much more, but that was for later.

  Now she had to focus on her family, the holiday and all of the other reasons she was here. Slipping from under the blankets, her feet landed on the cool tile floor as she picked up her nightgown, gave it a shake before she put it back on.

  Voices rang from below, someone down in the garden. Hopefully, she could get over to her room unnoticed. Surely, everyone was awake by now.

  No such luck.

  She practically smashed into her sister coming around the corner to the hallway where Lucia’s room was next to hers.

  “Lucia, good morning,” Ana said, laughing and hoping her sister wouldn’t think anything of her running around the hall in her flimsy nightgown.

  Interestingly, Lucia also looked disheveled, though she was fully dressed. Ana studied her face for a moment—something about her seemed different. Her face flushed, her eyes a little glassy. Was Lucia ill?

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, why?” Lucia’s response was quick and curt, and Ana frowned.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well, and I went for a run. You know how it always leaves me agitated. What are you doing?” her sister asked more reasonably, with an inquiring eyebrow as she took in Ana’s dress.

  Ana closed her arms over her middle, not that that would hide anything.

  “I needed to get some aspirin from the main bath,” she said, the lie falling from her lips more easily than she liked, but no way was she letting anyone know what she had been doing last night.

  Not even Lucia.

  “I see,” Lucia said softly and nodded agreeably before moving past Ana. “Are you well?”

  “Just a little headache.”

  “Well, I am going downstairs for some breakfast. You will be down soon?”

  Ana smiled, glad that her sister was letting her off the hook, even if Lucia didn’t seem to completely buy her story.

  “In just a few minutes.”

  Lucia smiled and left, and Ana ducked into her room unseen by anyone else.

  It felt so illicit—sneaking into a man’s bedroom in her family home. It was...inappropriate, even at her age, but she didn’t regret a second of her time with Chance.

  As she quickly showered and dressed, she exited her room again, heading downstairs. The familiar, succulent scent of her mother’s cooking led her to the kitchen, where Doncia was working at the counter.

  Ana smiled. Her mother always cooked for her when she was home. It was an overwhelming treat, as much as Ana loved to cook, to have someone present her with a meal. Her mother’s cooking was second to none, not even her own.

  “Mama, this smells wonderful,” she said, crossing the kitchen to hug her mother.

  “You slept in,” her mother said, kissing her forehead and studying her face, maybe too closely.

  Ana averted her eyes. “I was tired. The show has been nonstop for weeks,” she said, cleaning a spot on the counter where her mother had been chopping vegetables.

  “Hmm. It was upsetting with Marco last night,” Doncia said.

  “Yes.” Ana sighed. “But necessary.”

  Her mother sighed, too. “If you do not love him, then that is best.”

  Ana paused, somewhat surprised by her mother’s easy agreement.

  “You are not upset with me?”

  It was her mother’s turn to look surprised.

  “Why would I be upset with you, Ana? You must do what your heart tells you, whether it is with your life work or to whom you give your heart,” she said.

  “Thank you, Mama,” Ana said with no small amount of relief.

  It lasted only a second.

  “And Chance, he was also all right after last night’s...conflict?”

  Ana paused. She had spent time in the kitchen with her family, cleaning up after the party, and Chance had gone to his room to tend to his wounds.

  Her mother was crafty, Ana thought appreciatively.

  “I assume he was fine,” Ana said lightly, carrying a plate of fruit to the table.

  “Ana.”

  Ana knew that tone.

  “Mama, really,” she started, but Doncia interrupted her.

  “I saw how he looks at you—like you are everything. The only thing he sees. And how he fought for you last night,” Doncia said with a fond smile. “Your father looked at me like that. Fought for me once, too,” she added.

  “Papa? Fight?” Ana said, distracted by that bit of information. Her father was a gardener, a peace-

  loving man. She couldn’t imagine him ever raising a fist.

  “There was another man. He wanted me, though I was in love with your papa. This other man, Arturo, would not take no. He did, after your father made it very clear to keep his distance,” Doncia said happily. “Much like your...friend.”

  Ana swallowed hard. How to tell her mother that Chance was only so focused on her because she was his client? That he watched her so intently, and protected her, because that was his job?

  He had told her not to tell anyone, and Ana felt trapped. Her mother had the entirely wrong idea.

  “I saw him kiss you in the courtyard yesterday,” her mother added, sealing the statement with a damning look. Ana’s goose was cooked. “He’s a good man. Es puro de espíritu. I could see that right away about him.”

  “Okay, Mama. Yes, we are...attracted to each other, but it’s nothing serious. Not like you and Papa.”

  As the words left her lips, she looked up to notice Chance in the doorway to the kitchen.

  “Chance. Buenos días,” she said, and her mother turned to wish him the same, with a welcoming smile.

  “Come, sit. I’ve kept some breakfast warm. You and Ana were both very tired after everything that happened last night,” Doncia said, innocently as could be, but Ana sent her mother a warning look.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Chance offered, smiling at Ana in a way that she felt down to her toes. Her mother’s back was to them. The look he sent her told her that he was thinking about everything that had happened between them the night before.

  Worse, her mother would know everything in an instant, and then she would hear wedding bells ringing again, when all Chance was...what? Convenient? Hot? Willing?

  All of those, Ana thought guiltily. So she had met him in the night and scratched an itch? So what? Men did it all the time, she thought to herself as she finished setting the table as Chance chatted with her mother in easy Spanish.

  “I always make huevos rancheros for Ana when she comes home. She has to cook all of the time with her job, so I like her to enjoy being cooked for when she visits. Although most of her famous recipes are mine and her abuela’s, my mother Paula’s,” Doncia told Chance, while showing him how to mince the jalapeños easily and safely.

  “They have inspired all of my own,” Ana added affectionately. “A new book of them, even.”

  Chance turned to her. “You’re having another book published?”

  Ana smiled, glad to change topics. “It’s titled Recipes from Home, and it’s been a labor of love. I work on it when I have time away from the show, and I just delivered it to the publisher at Christmas. I dedicated it to you, Mama, and Mama Paula,” she said, smiled at the shocked look on her mother’s face.

  “Oh, Ana! That’s wonderful,” her mother said warmly.

  Ana knew what her mother
really wanted was grandchildren, and worried that neither of her daughters would produce that boon within her lifetime. Ana couldn’t make any promises, but she was glad her mother was excited—hopefully, over her professional accomplishments.

  “I hoped that you would write the forward to it, Mama, while I am here. Maybe you could write about how you taught all of us to cook when we were children,” Ana suggested.

  Her mother’s eyes filled and she started rattling off so much so fast in Spanish that Chance looked totally bemused. Ana laughed, enveloping her mother in a hug.

  “Mama, you will have plenty to say. It will be our book—mine, yours and Mama Paula’s, because I could never have done any of this without you,” Ana said, feeling her own eyes burn.

  Ana was glad to have her mother thinking about something other than her and Chance, and she smiled as she caught his attention.

  He smiled and winked in her direction, making her heart melt. Had he heard her say they had nothing serious? She could only assume he was okay with that. They’d known each other for only forty-eight hours, and not even that. How could they have anything else?

  Though in some ways, they knew each other very well. He knew just how to touch her to send her pulse skyrocketing and how to kiss her so exquisitely like no man ever had. He knew she wasn’t completely happy with her current job and that she wanted to go back to simpler things. He knew she didn’t like being watched or controlled, and he knew how to make her heart beat faster with only a look.

  The moment was broken when the kitchen suddenly was full of voices as her cousins and then...Marco walked in.

  * * *

  CHANCE STEPPED AWAY FROM the counter, watching Marco carefully. The big man had a bruised eye, almost closed, and Chance hardly remembered getting the punch in.

  Marco met his gaze and stiffened, his back straight, clearly tense.

  “Doncia, Ana,” he said. “Mr. Berringer.”

  Chance nodded in his direction but made it clear that he was ready for another go around if it was needed.

  “I’m glad to catch you all here, in one place. I came to apologize for my behavior in your home,” he said to Doncia, with a slight bow, a downward look and then to Ana, “and to you and your guest. How I behaved was unacceptable, under any circumstances, even considering my surprise at Ana’s rejection,” he said, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

  Chance actually felt bad for the guy.

  Ana rose from her seat at the table and took both of Marco’s hands in hers. “Marco, I didn’t reject you. You are a wonderful man, but we were never meant to be together. We never have been together. So there can be no rejection, right? You are always welcome here, and a part of our family, no matter what.”

  Marco’s face softened a bit as he looked down at Ana.

  “Gracias, Ana. That is very gracious of you.”

  “She says what we all feel, Marco. Come have some breakfast,” Doncia said, and Chance smiled at the easy forgiveness, the genuine warmth. These were good people. All of them, even Marco.

  As things relaxed, he stepped forward, putting his hand out.

  “For what it’s worth, you have some pretty slick moves in a fight,” Chance said, wincing as he touched his sore cheek with his other hand and smiling as Marco took his hand in a firm shake.

  “You, as well. I haven’t let anyone blacken my eye since I was seven years old,” Marco said with grudging respect.

  “You learned to fight like that just, you know, around?” Chance asked, but he was also fishing.

  “Somewhat. I was also in the Mexican police force for years, and the military. I retired to help my family with the business and to focus on my life here as my parents got older,” he said.

  “And to help after Papa died,” Ana added, gratitude evident in her tone.

  “Happily. José was a close friend of my father’s, like a brother. We are all family,” he affirmed.

  Doncia announced that the food was done, and what appeared to be the second breakfast of the morning was served. Chance was grateful—he was starving.

  He’d woken up early, tempted to wake Ana, as well, but he also wanted to take advantage of the early hour to go check out the town, and did so under the guise of taking an early-morning run. Doncia had been up cooking then, too, for the members of the family who were heading out to work early.

  Right now, the tension with Marco settled, Chance was thankful for the chaos around him; it kept him from thinking too much about what he’d heard Ana say as he arrived in the kitchen, and how she had avoided his gaze. She was clearly uncomfortable. He supposed it was only natural, given that she was among her family.

  Even so, he couldn’t look at her without remembering how she tasted, how soft she was and how she had exploded around him. She was right. They had a moment, a night—an experience that hopefully would be repeated—but it wasn’t more than that.

  Not serious at all.

  What he hadn’t told her, and wasn’t sure how to understand for himself, was the red-hot rage he’d felt when Marco had advanced on her when she told him she wasn’t going to marry him. If Marco had touched her at all—seeing him kiss her had been bad enough—Chance wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have done more than blacken the man’s eye.

  Chance had been jealous once or twice before but never like that. Never to the point where he wanted to punch someone’s lights out. He told himself it was because she was his responsibility. Her life was literally in his hands.

  Suddenly, he wasn’t sure this job had been a good choice. Maybe he was too raw from the experience with Logan and should have just taken some downtime.

  Too late now.

  “Chance, what were you hoping to do on your vacation while you are here?”

  He was vaguely aware someone had spoken to him, the background of chatter and breakfast falling away as he’d been caught up in his thoughts.

  When he snapped to, he realized all eyes were on him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “What was that?”

  “I was just wondering what you were hoping to do, if you needed any suggestions, for what there is to do here while you are visiting,” Marco said.

  “Oh. Well, I thought I would find some beaches, maybe do some diving, if there are opportunities for that. Maybe spend some time in the jungle—I’ve never had a chance to do that as much as I’d like to.”

  Not for fun, anyway. He’d been on protective duty in Ecuador once, guarding a politician’s family from an assassination attempt, and that had been dicey. Not exactly a relaxed way to enjoy the local flora and fauna.

  “I could take you out, for a tour, perhaps, or some hunting,” Marco said.

  Chance tried to find the best way to decline; he didn’t intend on leaving Ana’s side, and he certainly wasn’t going out into the jungle with Marco.

  “We’ll see. Today, I think I might just—”

  “I know of a good swimming and diving spot nearby, if you are interested,” Ana interrupted, saving him. “We can go there. And then there is the holiday to prepare for.”

  “That sounds great. What do you do for your holiday?”

  “Much the same as most countries—parties, food, fireworks to bring in the New Year.”

  “Though some of the old traditions are fun, too,” Lucia said, smiling. At Marco.

  Until Lucia caught herself and then looked away. Chance didn’t know if anyone else had caught her expression, but he had.

  Huh.

  “Like what?” Chance asked.

  “It’s very festive here. New Year’s is like the start of the holiday week, instead of the end. Most do not open their gifts from Christmas and celebrate until Epiphany on January sixth. The party here includes the entire village—everyone meets in the main street, and we celebrate and fireworks are set off over the water. But there are small local and family traditions, as well. Like finding the coin in the pan dulce or wearing undergarments in the color that reflects what you would like to happen i
n the New Year,” Ana explained with a grin.

  “Excuse me—you mean, underwear?”

  Everyone laughed, and Chance wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Sí,” Doncia confirmed. “If you need money, for instance, you could wear green boxers, or if you want love and passion, something red. Or you may eat, or be fed by a lover, twelve grapes. One for every month of the New Year, sweet grapes being a good sign, sour ones, well, not so good. But all of our grapes are sweet here,” she promised with a smile.

  Chance chuckled. “Wow. At home, we usually get some beer, pizza and wings, and all watch the New York City ball drop, then watch movies all night. That’s about it.”

  “Some people also have ceremonial fires and burn old objects or paper they write certain things on, or they throw buckets of water out of their windows for renewal, a kind of symbolic tossing out. Sometimes they wait for passersby, just for fun,” Lucia added, again looking at Marco, laughing. “Remember that time...”

  Marco and Ana laughed, too, as they all reminisced about some previous New Year’s celebrations. Chance sat back, listening and enjoying Ana’s laugh.

  As they all chatted, he could only wonder what color underwear Ana might wear New Year’s Eve and if he would get to find out.

  8

  LUCIA PEREZ WAS BOTH ELATED and utterly miserable as she watched Marco talk to her mother, smiling, delivering a kiss on her forehead before leaving the kitchen. He was so handsome that her heart hurt just by looking at him.

  His lips had been on hers last night, and it felt as if she had dreamed the entire night. Marco hadn’t taken Ana’s rejection well, and Lucia had sat and consoled him. Then she had consoled him further, up in her room. He’d been gone when she woke up and hadn’t so much as shared a glance with her that indicated he was thinking about what had happened between them the night before.

  Maybe she had dreamed it. But no. She still felt the wonderful ache in her limbs and in between her thighs that came with being made love to by a powerful man like Marco.

  She treasured it. Lucia had loved him since she was a girl—sixteen to Ana’s twelve, she’d been heartbroken when her father had engaged Ana to him, and then again when she’d made a pass at Marco a few years later, throwing caution to the wind.