Harvest Moon

by Rochelle Alers

  Aaron changed his clothes, made two calls to Bahia, then went in search of Regina. Siesta had ended, and he knew he would find her in one of two places: the garden, or her bedroom. He knocked on her door and encountered silence. He waited and knocked again. It was apparent she wasn’t in her bedroom.

  His footfalls were silent as he descended the staircase and went to the garden. He asked the gardener if he had seen Señora Spencer. The man informed him that he had left her in the kitchen with Rosa.

  Returning to the coolness of the house, he found her alone in the kitchen. Standing in the entrance to the large, modern, functional space, he leaned against a wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at her.

  He thought she looked younger today than at any time since he had met her. She had pulled her hair back and braided it in a single plait, securing the curling end with a red elastic band. Wisps of black curling hair fell over her forehead and ears. She had also changed from her tailored dress into a pair of well-worn jeans, a navy-blue T-shirt, and black ballet slippers. Her overall appearance was one of unabashed feminine innocence.

  She hadn’t noticed him watching her as she busied herself sectioning a chicken on a cutting board. She wielded a cleaver with consummate skill, which verified that she was more than comfortable with the inside of a kitchen.

  “What’s for dinner?”

  Regina dropped the cleaver, it falling with a dull thud onto the cutting board. A slight frown marred her smooth forehead. “Stop creeping up on me,” she gasped, wanting to scream at Aaron, but couldn’t, not when her heart was pounding like a rapid-firing piston.

  He closed the space between them with long, fluid strides and grasped her wrist between his fingers, monitoring her pulse. “I really did frighten you, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.” She stared at his throat rather than meet his gaze.

  His brow furrowed in a frown. “What makes you frighten so easily?”

  She snatched her hand from his loose grip. “Nothing. It’s just that I didn’t expect to see you standing there, that’s all.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Whistle. Sing. Just make some noise.”

  His frown deepened. She was afraid of something, and he knew he wasn’t the cause. “How’s your blood pressure?”

  “It’s normal. Why?”

  “I don’t want you stroking out on me.”

  She gave him a saucy smile. “I can reassure you that I won’t have a stroke or a heart attack.”

  He returned her smile. “Good. And I promise I’ll whistle before I come up on you again.” Moving closer, his chest only inches from her back, he examined the different foodstuffs on the counter. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had gumbo.”

  Regina suffered his closeness as she pretended indifference to his presence. She wanted to flee the kitchen and hide behind the door to her bedroom. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide from Aaron so much as that she needed to hide from herself, and the feelings he aroused in her.

  “Do you mind if I help?”

  “Not at all,” she said a little too quickly, realizing she would agree to anything to make him move away from her. Then she remembered his admission that he was a very good cook.

  “I’ll take care of the chicken while you slice the peppers and the okra,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  Aaron washed the chicken, patted it dry, then tossed the pieces in a large plastic bag filled with flour seasoned with salt and pepper. He preheated the oven, added butter and vegetable oil to a Dutch oven, and placed the chicken in the pot, then into the oven to brown.

  “How spicy do you like your food?” he questioned as he picked up several CDs from a countertop next to a compact disc stereo system.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I don’t mind if my food bites back.”

  “All right,” he drawled, grinning broadly. “So, the girl likes it hot and spicy.”

  “If the truth be known, I like it real hot and spicy.”

  He gave her body a raking gaze, then slipped six CDs onto the carousel. “Like your music?” She gave him a lingering stare. “I doubt very much if my father listened to the Barrio Boyz, Babyface, India, Jon Secada, Marc Antony, or DLG.”

  “He liked Babyface and Jon Secada.”

  Picking up a case for DLG—Dark Latin Groove—he read the selections aloud. “La Quiero A Morir. That’s heavy, Regina. Dying for love. Dad was more comfortable with Frank Sinatra, Nat Cole, and Sarah Vaughan.”

  She sucked her teeth at the same time she continued to trim the okra. “Don’t be so cynical, Aaron. One of these days love is going to jump up and bite you on your behind so hard you won’t have time to holler.”

  “You think so?” he questioned, stalking her and reminding her of a large cat.

  Holding a small paring knife in front of her, she warned softly, “Stay away from me, Aaron.”

  “Put that thing away.” Before she could inhale, he caught her wrist and took the knife from her loose grip. “I didn’t bring my medical bag, so let’s try to act civil.” Pulling her up close to his body, he swung her around in tempo with the pulsating Latin rhythm. “Dance with me,” he urged when she went stiff in his arms. He tightened his grip on her waist, molding her to the length of him until they were fused from shoulders to knees. “It’s been a long time since I’ve danced with a woman.”

  Curling her arms around his neck, Regina relaxed, closed her eyes, and inhaled the hauntingly sensual scent of his natural body fragrance mingling with his cologne.

  “What’s the matter, Aaron? You don’t get out much?”

  He laughed, the sound rumbling like thunder in his broad chest. “Apparently not enough. I’m usually invited to a lot of parties during the Christmas season, but I manage to make it to only one or two.”

  Pulling back, she smiled up at him staring down at her. “What about Carnival?”

  He shifted his eyebrows. “I stay away from Carnival.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s become a little too boisterous for me.” He swung her around, his hips moving sensuously against hers as he kept pace with the throbbing rhythm.

  She nodded, concentrating on the intricate dance steps Aaron executed. He had failed to mention that he was also an excellent dancer. She followed his every move. The selection ended but he did not release her, and she did not want him to.

  Dancing with Aaron reminded her of what she had missed. She had never been given the opportunity to date, dance, or flirt with a man. He was offering her that, and more. She registered the changes within her whenever he tightened his grip on her waist, making her aware of how different their bodies were. She successfully swallowed back a moan when she felt his rising hardness press against her middle, bringing with it a heaviness in her breasts she was unable to control. She was certain he was cognizant of the changes at the same time his breathing deepened.

  Then, without warning, he went completely still, and she was certain she would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her and possibly injured herself.

  His hands moved from her waist to cradle her face. She tried escaping him, but he tightened his hold. “Don’t,” he whispered, his moist breath caressing her mouth. “Please don’t move.”

  Closing her eyes against his intense stare, she realized she couldn’t move. She couldn’t escape him even if she wanted to. It was too late. Aaron Spencer had become the itch she couldn’t scratch. Within two weeks he had become a part of her existence, and try as she could, she could not remember when he had not been at El Cielo.

  She looked for him when she woke up, and before she retired for bed. They had taken to sharing all of their meals and walks together, and many times siestas in the garden. And there were occasions when they were content to sit beside each other without initiating conversation.

  She knew he was going to kiss her, and she was helpless to stop him. It wouldn’t be the first time a man kissed her, but it would be the first time she would not have
to take her cue from a director.

  Aaron stared at Regina as if seeing her for the first time. He hadn’t realized the length of the lashes brushing the tops of her high cheekbones, the smooth, velvety texture of her skin, and the narrowness of her delicate nose. His hand splayed over her cheek, his fingers entwining in the curls framing her face. His head came down slowly, inch by inch, until his mouth hovered over hers, capturing her breath as she exhaled.

  Angling for a better position, he slanted his mouth over hers, increasing the pressure until her lips parted slightly. That was what he needed to stake his claim, his tongue meeting hers in a heated joining which raced through his body like the rush of molten lava.

  He tasted her mouth tentatively, kissing every inch of it. Then, with a rush of uncontrollable desire, he devoured its sweetness like a child who had been deprived of candy for years.

  Regina moved closer, shocked at her own eager response to the feel of his lips on hers as she returned his kiss with a reckless abandon she hadn’t known she possessed.

  He drew back to catch his breath and she collapsed against his chest, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. Not only had he heated her blood, but his repressed passion had scorched her soul.

  “Please, let me go, Aaron.” Her velvet voice came out in a breathless whisper.

  Burying his face in her hair, he shook his head. “I don’t want to—but I will.” Releasing her, he stepped back, staring at her staring back at him. Passion had dilated her pupils, while her breasts rose and fell over her narrow rib cage.

  “Aaron—”

  “It’s all right, Princesa,” he crooned, interrupting her with a knowing smile. “If you don’t want me to kiss you again I won’t.”

  Her lids fluttered in confusion. “I didn’t say I didn’t want you to kiss me.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowed. “Then what is it?”

  “I want you to check on the chicken. I can’t abide burnt food.” He stared at her, complete surprise freezing his features. “If you’re not going to help me, then get out of my kitchen,” she challenged, pushing him aside to open the oven door.

  He laughed, the sound exploding from his throat, as he watched her turn over pieces of chicken with a long-handled fork. His hungry gaze devoured her slim body in the revealing jeans, his laughter fading when she turned and glared at him.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He sobered. “How can you turn your emotions on and off like a faucet? You kiss me passionately, and then in the same breath you talk about checking on the chicken.”

  “I can kiss you passionately because I’ve been trained to turn on the passion. You keep forgetting that I was an actress.”

  His eyes widened, anger glimmering in their dark depths. “Are you saying that what we’ve just shared was an act?”

  Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his. “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

  His arm snaked out and held her fast. “Don’t play with me, Regina.”

  Leaning closer, she bared her straight, white teeth. “Or you’ll do what, Aaron?” Their gazes fused, locking in a battle of wills where neither wanted to concede. “¿Qué?” she spat out.

  She was asking him what he was going to do, and he couldn’t come up with an answer. “Nada,” he replied in the same language. If she continued to tease him there was absolutely nothing he could or would do. He would take everything she threw at him until he won. And he would not stop until she was his wife.

  * * *

  Regina sat on the patio with Aaron, enjoying the warmth of the late summer night. It had cooled down considerably, and she lay on a chaise, staring up at the starlit sky.

  Dinner had been a success, the gumbo flavorful and spicy from the piquant chili powder. She had prepared a side dish of savory white rice, with an accompanying avocado and orange salad, and baked a small loaf of Rosa’s homemade bread. Her beverage was iced tea, while Aaron had opted for a frozen citrus fruit drink.

  “How about a walk?” he asked lazily, his voice floating above as he stood over her.

  Extending her hand, she permitted him to pull her to her feet. “I ate too much.”

  “You don’t eat enough.”

  “I do eat,” she protested.

  “Not enough,” he argued softly.

  “Do I look anorexic to you?”

  “No.” And she didn’t. Her height and narrow hips made her appear much slimmer than she actually was. He glanced down at her sandals. “Do you want to go into the house and change your shoes?”

  She smiled up at him through her lashes. “Where are you taking me?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Nowhere in particular.”

  “I’ll keep the sandals on.”

  After cooking, both had retreated to their bedrooms, where they showered and changed. Aaron had exchanged his jeans and T-shirt for a pair of khakis, a matching shirt, and a pair of woven leather loafers, while she opted for a red silk shell, matching slim skirt, and leather sandals.

  Aaron was transfixed by the rich color contrasting with her golden-brown flesh. Of all of the colors he had seen her wear, he preferred her in red.

  Taking her hand, he led her down the patio, across the courtyard, and toward the garden. A half-moon lit up the clear sky, providing a modicum of light along with the lanterns strung around the perimeter of the courtyard and along the path leading to the garden.

  The brush of flying insects on their exposed flesh, the sounds of scurrying night creatures, and the cloying fragrance of blooming flowers hung heavily in the air, and the more they ventured into the garden the closer Regina pressed against Aaron’s body. He felt the slight trembling of her hand as they left the light behind and were swallowed up by a blanketing darkness.

  “What is it?” he whispered at the same time she turned and clutched at his clothes in a desperate clawing that quickened his pulse.

  “Take me back,” she gasped frantically, hyperventilating.

  “Where, Princesa?”

  “Back to the light!”

  Her trembling increased until she shook uncontrollably. Bending slightly, he swept her up effortlessly in his arms and retraced their steps, not stopping until he mounted the staircase and placed her on the large bed in his bedroom.

  Turning on a bedside lamp, he sat down beside her, counting the beats of her runaway pulse. It was as fast as if she had run a grueling race. Leaving the bed, he walked into the adjoining bathroom and returned within minutes with a cool cloth, placing it over her moist forehead.

  Tears leaked from under her eyelids as she cried silently, praying for the demons to flee and leave her in peace. Even after seventeen years they refused to relinquish their hold on her mind.

  Running his fingertips over her moist cheeks, Aaron leaned down and pressed a healing kiss on her mouth. “It’s all right, Princesa. I’m here for you,” he crooned, hoping to calm her.

  “They won’t leave me in peace,” she cried, burying her face against his strong throat. “After so many years they still come back to haunt me.”

  “Tell me about it, Baby.”

  Opening her eyes, she stared up at his dark, handsome face through her tears. Would he understand? Would he laugh at her for something she should have gotten over years ago?

  “I’m afraid of the dark,” she whispered.

  He gave her a tender smile, nodding. “Go on, Baby,” he urged in a quiet tone.

  “It happened a week before I turned ten.”

  “Go on, Baby,” he repeated when she hesitated.

  “I was kidnapped.”

  Lowering his head, Aaron pressed his lips to the side of her scented neck, cursing to himself. Didn’t her family know how to protect their children? Why weren’t they aware that their children were the most vulnerable when it came to kidnapping and extortion?

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  She nodded, savoring his warmth, strength, and protection.

  Chapter 1
2

  “My parents left me with my grandparents in West Palm Beach for a few days so I could visit my cousins, who lived in Palm Beach. My aunt Nancy asked me to sleep over at her house, but I decided to stay with my grandmother and grandfather because one of their pedigreed cocker spaniels had delivered a litter of puppies. I remembering sitting on a stool in a gardening shed watching them, but I can’t remember any of what happened next.”

  “You don’t know who abducted you?”

  She shook her head. “No. The only thing I remembered was waking up in a locked closet and pounding on the door until my hands were swollen. And when I pleaded to be let out to use the bathroom, I was gagged and blindfolded. Someone watched me whenever I had to relieve myself to make certain I would not remove the blindfold.”

  “Was it a man or a woman?”

  Her face burned in remembrance. “It was always a man. Each time I was let out of the closet to eat or use the bathroom I was blindfolded.”

  “How did you manage to see to eat?”

  “I didn’t. They bound my hands behind my back and fed me.”

  Aaron’s shock turned to a white-hot fury as he listened to the horror no one—especially a nine-year-old child—should have had to endure.

  “How long were you held captive?”

  Sighing heavily, she mumbled, “Six days.”

  Shifting, he eased her over his body, his arms tightening protectively around her waist. “What happened after that?” His voice was soft, coaxing.

  “My uncle and his friend found me. They made it seem as if it had been a game where they had to rescue me, and somehow I managed to repress the entire incident until I returned to Florida.”

  “Where did you go after the abduction?”

  “Ocho Rios, Jamaica. My mother and I lived with my uncle for six months before we moved back to Florida with my father.”

  “Why did you move back?”

  “My mother was pregnant, and she was experiencing complications, so my father moved us back to the States.”

  Running his hand over her hair, Aaron closed his eyes. She had relaxed so that her slow, even breathing was a soft whisper under his ear. He had wanted Regina in his arms and in his bed, but he hadn’t wanted his role to be that of comforter.