Fierce Passion

by Phoebe Conn

  “I will.”

  Alejandro paid with cash and tipped the man well. He held Ana’s hand as they rode the elevator down to the parking level. “Do people usually recognize you when you go out?”

  Uncertain what his real question might be, she hesitated to answer. If he was again criticizing himself for not recognizing her when they met, she didn’t want to make the matter worse. “Sometimes, like tonight, someone might think I look familiar and wonder who I am. If possible, I try to be gracious rather than standoffish.”

  “That’s undoubtedly wise, but if there’s somewhere you’d rather not go, please say so.”

  There was an edge to his voice, but she wouldn’t call him on it when the fact she might draw a stranger’s notice was still so new to him. It was easier to be quiet and think about frosting.

  “Vanilla or chocolate?” Alejandro asked.

  She leaned against the counter beside him. “Let’s begin with vanilla, but it will have to be a tiny bit or we’ll quickly get sick of the taste and each other.”

  “That’s unlikely.” He opened the can, swiped a little on his finger and slid it across her lips. When he kissed her, she couldn’t stop laughing. “What’s so funny?”

  She licked her lips to catch the last sweet taste. “This was my idea, I know, but maybe it wasn’t a very good one.”

  “I say it was.” He washed his hands and unbuttoned his shirt. He reached for her arm, pushed up her sleeve, and put a little frosting on her inner elbow. He licked it off. “Is that better?”

  “Hmm, yes. Take off your shirt, and I’ll try it on you.” He hung the white shirt on a cupboard knob and offered his arm. She reached for his hand, turned it and placed a drop of frosting on the veins showing on his inner wrist. She sucked it off and looked up. “Well?”

  He let out an appreciative sigh. “I didn’t expect it to feel so good. Do it again.”

  She obliged, but the frosting was so sweet, she used only a dot. He wrapped his hand around hers as she kissed his wrist, and she looked up at him. “Maybe it’s just the kisses, not the frosting that’s making it feel so good.”

  The frosting forgotten, he pulled her close and kissed her. She tasted unusually sweet, but he still wanted more. “We’ll have to be careful where we put it. Let’s use a little more frosting just to make certain we don’t need it.”

  She’d worn a short blue-green dress and turned for him to unzip it. They moved to the worktable. He held her hand while she stepped out of it and flung it toward the closest chair. She peeled off her black lace bra, dropped it on the table and put a dollop of frosting on a nipple. “Let’s start here.” He eased her into the chair and knelt between her legs to be at the right height. He sucked away the frosting, licked her other breast and tugged the rosy nipple gently between his teeth.

  Leaning into him, she raked her fingers through his hair. They made magic together so easily, and she’d never have enough of him. “Hand me the frosting,” she whispered. He reached for the can on the table. She put a smidgen on his earlobe, sucked it off and licked the tender hollow behind it. “Your ears are as handsome as the rest of you.” She licked his other ear without bothering with frosting.

  “Thank you.” He put frosting in her navel and tongued it away to make her laugh. “Maybe we should always go this slowly.” He pushed her knees farther apart and nuzzled his cheek against the smooth skin of her inner thigh.

  “Take off my heels.”

  He pulled them off and set them aside. “I’ve never understood how a man can have a foot fetish when there are so many more delectable parts of a woman’s body.”

  Now barefoot, she rubbed her toes along his erection. “Why are you still dressed?”

  He gave her a quick kiss, stood and unbuckled his belt. He kicked off his loafers, took a condom from the pocket and discarded his slacks. He wore a pair of leopard-print briefs. “You have such pretty lingerie, and I didn’t want you to grow bored with me.”

  “Impossible—but the leopard print suits you.” She rose slowly and raked her fingernails lightly across his belly. He had great abs, and she caressed the hard muscles and outlining dips before sliding her hand lower to cup his familiar weight. “I appreciate the effort too.” She reached for the can of frosting and put a dab on the hollow of his shoulder. She had given him only a couple of licks when he caught her waist, sat down and pulled her astride his lap.

  She dipped her finger into the frosting and, with a seductive smile, licked it off. “Are you already tired of this game?”

  “No, but I’m calling a time-out.”

  She eased his rock-hard cock from the slit in his briefs and rolled it between her hands. “Were you thinking of a quick break, or something longer?”

  “About this long.” He covered her hand with his, took a deep breath and rolled on the condom. He pulled her thong aside and guided himself into her.

  She rose up on her tiptoes to take him deep and twisted on her way down to his lap. She rocked, but he held her waist to hold her still. His silver eyes had a smoldering glint, and she was always eager to play. She clenched her inner muscles to demand more.

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “Of course it is,” she argued with another fluttering squeeze demanding he thrust.

  He raised a hand to the back of her head and silenced her with a fevered kiss. She clung to his shoulders, rocking so he’d have to dive deep, and when he slid his hand between them to thumb her clit, she pulled him into a searing climax that melded their very souls. Locked in his arms, shivers of pleasure surged to her toes and the delicious sensation faded so slowly she floated in his embrace, completely and utterly sated.

  In a lazy mood, she slid her fingers through the soft curls brushing his nape. He hadn’t used the word love, and she wouldn’t speak it first, but this was how it felt to be loved until she couldn’t ask for more.

  Friday, Alejandro had class work he couldn’t avoid, and Ana didn’t see him again until Saturday afternoon when he picked her up for Jaime’s memorial service. He wore a whiskey-brown suit and striped tie, and she’d chosen a dark green wrap dress with a hemline brushing her knees. “We look appropriately sedate, don’t we?” she greeted him.

  “We do. I’m not fond of memorials, but I want to go to this one. There will be people weeping, but no one will confess to killing Jaime the way they’d do in the movies. Still, I’d like to see how everyone behaves.”

  “I’m curious too. Lieutenant Montoya will be there. Let’s do whatever we can to avoid him.”

  “Gladly.”

  Gian Carlo had given them Galen Salazar’s address, and Ana had left a message for the designer to let him know they’d be coming. When they arrived, Galen’s wife, Lena, met them at the door. She wore a black sheath with a lace collar and had pulled her dark brown hair into such a tight bun she’d raised her eyebrows into a permanently surprised arch.

  Ana gave her name and Alejandro’s. Lena swept her with a critical glance and waved them on into the house without any effort to make them feel welcome. He whispered in Ana’s ear, “Was she close to Jaime?”

  “I’ve no idea who is close to whom anymore.” There was a memorial book where guests signed their names, and they had to begin a new page to add theirs. There were folding chairs on the patio. They took two in the last row. Valeria waved from a seat at the front, and Ana pointed out other people she knew. Lourdes found a seat in the front. Ana was tempted to point her out to Alejandro and mention the Mallorca trip, but thought she better keep still. The seats were nearly filled when Gain Carlo dropped into the seat beside hers.

  “I hope they get this over with quickly,” he leaned close to whisper.

  Alejandro reached for Ana’s hand and laced his fingers in hers. She squeezed his hand and thought his effort to claim her was sweet rather than obnoxiously possessive. She watched Lieutenant Montoya move around the side of the patio. In a dark gray suit, he faded into the shadows near the wall. He appeared to be closely observing everyone wh
o’d come. He nodded when their glances met, but she quickly looked away.

  A man sat down next to Gian Carlo who looked like a bodybuilder, and his chair groaned under his weight. Montoya must have noticed him. She hadn’t seen a blond man other than Gian Carlo, but thought she’d have a better chance to sight suspects when people were standing and talking later. No one had regarded her with an accusing stare, and she wondered who’d also been questioned by the police.

  Galen’s sister, a beautiful young woman with long, dark curls, began the memorial singing a hymn with a haunting melody. She had a soaring soprano, and when Alejandro’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket, he looked horrified. He checked the number and, with a nod to Ana, carried the phone inside.

  Another woman? Gian Carlo mouthed.

  “Idiot,” Ana whispered back at him. It was none of her business who’d called him, but she began to worry when he didn’t quickly return. Friends were now going to the front to share their memories of Jaime. She wished she’d made a list of the jobs they’d done together to cite one. He’d always been easy to work with and professional, if she didn’t count his recent request for nude shots.

  Alejandro came in quietly and retook his seat. “My father has had a stroke, and my stepmother is hysterical. Will you take Ana home, Gian Carlo?”

  “I’ll be glad to.”

  Ana grabbed Alejandro’s sleeve. “I want to go with you.”

  “Believe me, you don’t want to meet Carlotta under these circumstances, and it might take several hours for the hospital to have the test results. My father argued about going there, so he can’t be that ill. I’ll call you when I can.”

  She let him go without argument, but she was apparently more worried about his father than he was. Maybe his stepmother was an alarmist, and he didn’t expect anything the woman said to be accurate, but some people didn’t recover from a stroke. If Alejandro had to give up his dream of becoming an architect to oversee the Ortiz family’s shipping interests, she doubted anyone would be able to console him. Tears filled her eyes. She pulled a tissue from her purse to wipe them away.

  “I didn’t realize you were so close to Jaime,” Gian Carlo murmured.

  “We were dear friends,” she responded. When there was an opening for her to go up and speak, she praised Jaime’s talents as a photographer with sincere enthusiasm. Inspired by her remarks, Gian Carlo told about a shoot he recalled and how much Jaime’s respect for the models had meant to him.

  “That was lovely,” Ana told him when he returned to his seat.

  “I meant it,” he insisted.

  A photographer who’d known Jaime from his war days told a frightening story of how they’d gotten cut off from the troops in Iraq and had to crawl back to camp after dark, certain they’d be mistaken for insurgents. All had ended well that night, but he missed Jaime’s friendship deeply.

  Galen’s sister closed the memorial with another song. While Ana told her how much she enjoyed her voice, Lieutenant Montoya appeared at her shoulder. “Mr. Campos had a lot of friends,” he remarked.

  “Don’t you?” Ana asked before she could catch herself.

  “Perhaps, but I won’t be able to count them at my memorial service. Is there anyone here who seems out of place?”

  Ana refrained from mentioning him, but nodded toward two well-built men who might possibly be bodybuilders. “There are people here I don’t recognize, but those two might have been the S&M models.”

  “I noticed them and plan to question them when they leave rather than disrupt the memorial. By the way, Robles and Mesa toured local gyms but failed to learn anything significant. As for today, I thought your remarks were especially touching.”

  “Thank you. They were sincere.” She saw Gian Carlo on the opposite side of the patio, apparently staying out of the lieutenant’s reach, and hurriedly covered a yawn.

  “A late night?” Montoya asked.

  “Yes, and a very enjoyable one. Will you excuse me?” She turned away before he could object and circled the crowd to reach the refreshment table. There were plates of cookies, small cakes, and candies along with wine and lemonade. She took a cup of lemonade and sipped it while she scanned the group. Valeria and Lourdes were talking with a male model Ana worked with occasionally. Apparently the three were close friends. With a lean build, he didn’t look suspicious, and in the soft-spoken crowd, no one appeared to be hiding murderous intentions. She made her way to Gian Carlo, who now stood alone.

  “I’m ready to leave whenever you are,” she confided.

  “Now would be fine with me. Let’s tell Galen and his wife good-bye.”

  Galen winced as they approached him, but Ana focused on his wife. “This was such a nice memorial for Jaime. Thank you so much for hosting it.”

  Lena looped her arm through her husband’s before she nodded to acknowledge the compliment. “Let’s hope we won’t have another such sad occasion anytime soon.”

  Gian Carlo agreed and took Ana’s hand as they left the patio by the side gate. He opened the door of his MG for her and looked back at the house. “Why do you suppose Galen married her?”

  She waited for him to get into the driver’s seat. “Maybe her father had the money to finance his first collection, or they fell madly in love when neither had a dime.”

  He turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine. “Whatever the reason, we can say we were here. Is there anywhere you’d like to stop on the way home?”

  A long walk would have been so nice with Alejandro, but she’d had enough of Gian Carlo’s company. “Thank you, but I’ve things to do at home. Don’t you?”

  “Sure, but I do my best to avoid them. What’s your next job?”

  There was no news on the Almodóvar film, but she wouldn’t have mentioned it if there were. “I’m working with a French shoe designer, Lamoreaux. He wants only my legs, however.”

  Turning left, he looked toward her. “You do have great legs. Oh hell.”

  He’d taken the turn too fast, and Ana grabbed for the dashboard to brace herself. He wrestled with the wheel. The tires screamed for purchase, and the sports car skidded out of control. She saw a bright flash of blue sky.

  Orlando Ortiz had been rushed to the hospital closest to his home, and, certain a moment of garbled speech wasn’t serious, he was an extremely poor patient. He submitted to a CT scan under duress, but no blockage or bleeding was found in his brain. “I told you there was no reason for alarm.”

  His doctor disagreed. “You probably had a TIA, or transient ischemic attack. The symptoms your wife observed were real, but quickly passed. She was correct to insist you come to the hospital, however. I’ve warned you to quit smoking. Alcohol and a high-fat diet are also contributing factors in strokes. You need to make some changes in your habits soon. When was the last time you went on a vacation? Do you ever sail on one of your cruise liners?”

  Thoroughly annoyed, Orlando shook his head. “I’ve no time to waste on vacations.”

  “Clearly you’re a Type A personality. They believe they thrive on stress, but the opposite is true. They often die of massive strokes long before their time. You have young boys to consider. What about your eldest son? Is he any help to you?”

  Orlando barely contained a rude snort. “He intends to be an architect and build homes for the poor. He’s not interested in the business.”

  “That’s unfortunate. I want to speak with your wife before you go, but you must regard today’s episode as the warning it is and make your health a priority.”

  Orlando nodded, and checked his watch, eager to go.

  Alejandro found his stepmother in the emergency waiting room. She was a petite woman with henna-tinted hair and several years too young to be his mother. They were polite to each other but had never really bonded. He sat down beside her. “How is he?”

  Carlotta grabbed his hand. “He always knows everything, but when I couldn’t understand him, I told him slurred speech is a bad sign, and I refused to wait for him to
get worse. His doctor met us here and is seeing him now.”

  She’d always been devoted to his father. Alejandro gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “You were wise to make him come. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

  “Nothing is easy with such an obstinate man, but you know him.”

  That was the first critical word he’d ever heard her speak about his father. He nodded rather than add his own lengthy list of complaints. He recognized the doctor approaching them and stood with her.

  “I have good news.” The physician explained his findings and the warnings he’d given Orlando.

  Alejandro understood his description of a TIA, but Carlotta had multiple concerns. “I make sure my husband eats healthy food at home, but he goes out with his friends and orders thick steaks. He doesn’t smoke around our boys, but he smokes in his office. I’ve no idea how much he drinks. It must be too much.”

  The doctor laid his hand on her shoulder. “He’s the one who has to see the value of changing his habits. Compliment him when he does and ignore his poor choices. You can’t control his behavior and shouldn’t try. There’s no reason to keep him here. He’ll be ready to go home in a minute.”

  As the physician walked away, Carlotta looked up at Alejandro. “He’s going to argue he didn’t need to come here, but he really did.”

  “He should be grateful you’re looking after him so well.”

  She shrugged. “He’s grateful for some things but not others. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “Call whenever you need me.” Alejandro stayed until his father was ready to leave, but Orlando looked more annoyed than pleased to see him.

  “I’m fine,” Orlando insisted. “You didn’t need to leave your studies to come here. I don’t want you to get behind and not graduate with your class since it’s so important to you.”

  Carlotta rolled her eyes, and Alejandro understood why. His father intended to control everything and everyone he could, or die trying. They’d come in an ambulance, and he drove them home but quickly told them good-bye. Before Alejandro pulled his SUV out into traffic, he called to see if Ana had gotten home. Gian Carlo answered her phone. He was crying so hard Alejandro couldn’t understand him. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”