One Month with the Magnate

by Michelle Celmer

  The fact that she almost accepted his offer was a testament to how low her life had sunk. The last thing her mother needed was Isabelle crashing her dates. Being the third wheel was even worse than being alone.

  “Maybe some other time.”

  “Are you sure you can’t stay for a quick glass of wine?”

  “Not while I’m driving. But it was very nice meeting you, Ben.”

  “You, too, Isabelle.”

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” her mother said, and she told Ben, “I’ll be right back.”

  Isabelle followed her mother out the door, shutting it behind them.

  “Are you upset?” her mother asked, looking worried.

  “About what?”

  “That I have a man friend.”

  “Of course not! Why would I be upset? I want you to be happy. Ben seems very nice.”

  A shy smile tilted her lips. “He is. I get coffee in his shop before work. He’s asked me out half a dozen times, and I finally said yes.”

  “So you like him?”

  “He still makes me a little nervous, but he’s such a nice man. He knows all about the indictment, but he doesn’t care.”

  “He sounds like a keeper.” She nudged her mom and asked, “Is he a good kisser?”

  “Isabelle!” she said, looking scandalized. “I haven’t kissed anyone but your father since I was sixteen. To be honest, the idea is a little scary.”

  They got to the car and Isabelle turned to face her. “Are you physically attracted to him?”

  She smiled shyly and nodded. “I think I just need to take things slow.”

  “And he understands that?”

  “We’ve talked. About your father, and the way things used to be. He’s such a good listener.”

  “How many times have you seen him?”

  “This is our third date.”

  She’d seen him three times and hadn’t said anything? Isabelle thought they told each other everything.

  And who was she to talk when she’d told her mother she worked for the fictional Mrs. Smith?

  “You’re upset,” her mother said, looking crestfallen.

  “No, just a little surprised.”

  “I wanted to tell you, I was just…embarrassed, I guess. If that makes any sense. I keep thinking that he’s going to figure out that I’m not such a great catch, and every date we go on will be our last.”

  She could thank Isabelle’s dad for that. He’d put those ideas into her head.

  “He’s lucky to have you and I’m sure he knows it.”

  “He does seem to like me. He’s already talking about what we’ll do next weekend.”

  “Well, then, I’d better let you get back inside.” She gave her mother a hug. “Have fun, but not too much fun. Although after three dates, I would seriously consider letting him kiss you.”

  Her mother smiled. “I will.”

  “I’ll see you Thursday, then. Is there anything you need me to bring?”

  “Oh, I was thinking…well, the thing is, my oven here isn’t very reliable, and…actually, Ben invited me to Thanks giving dinner with him and a few of his friends. I thought you could come along.”

  That would be beyond awkward, especially when his friends found out who she was. But she could see that her mother really wanted to go, and she wouldn’t out of guilt if Isabelle didn’t come up with a viable excuse.

  “Mrs. Smith’s family asked me to have dinner with them,” she lied. “They’ve been so kind to me, the truth is I felt bad telling them no. So if you want to eat with Ben and his friends, that’s fine.”

  “Are you sure? We always spend Thanksgiving together.”

  Not after this year, unless her mother wanted to eat at the women’s correctional facility. It was good that she was making new friends, getting on with her life. To fill the void when Isabelle was gone.

  She forced a smile. “I’m sure.”

  She gave her one last hug, then got in the car. Her mother waved as she drove off. It seemed as if she was finally getting on with her life. Isabelle wanted her to be happy, so why did she feel like dropping her head on the steering wheel and sobbing?

  Probably because, for a long, long time, Isabelle and her mom had no one but each other. They were a team.

  Her mother had someone else now. And who did Isabelle have? Pretty much no one.

  But she was not going to feel sorry for herself, damn it. What would be the point of creating new relationships now anyway, when in five weeks she would be going to prison?

  She didn’t feel like going back to Emilio’s yet, so instead she drove around for a while. When she reached the edge of town, she was tempted to just keep going. To drive far from here, away from her life. A place where no one knew her and she could start over.

  But running away never solved anything.

  It was nearly eleven when she steered the car back to Emilio’s house. She parked in the garage next to his black Ferrari and headed inside, dropping her purse and sweater in her room before she walked out to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She put the kettle on to boil and fished around the cupboard above the coffeemaker on her tiptoes for a box of tea bags.

  “Need help?”

  She felt someone lean in beside her. She looked up, expecting to find Emilio, but it was Estefan standing there.

  She jerked away, feeling…violated. He was charming, and attractive—although not even close to as good-looking as Emilio—but something about him always gave her the creeps. Even when they were younger, when his mother would drive them to school, Isabelle didn’t like the way he would look at her. Even though he was a few years younger, he made her nervous.

  He still did. She had to dig extra deep to maintain her show-no-fear attitude.

  Estefan flashed her an oily smile and held out the box of tea bags. She took it from him. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” He leaned against the counter and folded his arms. Watching her.

  “Did Emilio show you to your room?” she asked, mainly because she didn’t know what else to say.

  “Yep. It’s great place, isn’t it?” He looked around the kitchen. “My brother did pretty well for himself.”

  “He has.”

  “Probably makes you regret screwing him over.”

  So much for Estefan not giving her a hard time. She should have anticipated this.

  “It looks like you’ve got a pretty sweet deal going here,” Estefan said.

  She wondered how much Emilio had told him. From the tone of their conversation at the front door—yes, she’d eavesdropped for a minute or two—Emilio hadn’t been happy to see his brother. Would he confide in someone he didn’t trust? And what difference did it make?

  “You get to live in his house, drive his cars, eat his food. It begs the question, what is he getting in return?”

  Housekeeping and cooking. But clearly that wasn’t what he meant. He seemed certain there was more to it than that. Why didn’t he just come right out and call her a whore?

  The kettle started to boil so she walked around the island to the stove to fix her tea. Emilio had belittled and insulted her, but that had been different somehow. Less…sinister and vindictive. She just hoped that if she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, Estefan would get bored and leave her alone.

  No such luck.

  He stepped up behind her. So close she could almost feel his body heat. The cloying scent of his aftershave turned her stomach.

  “My brother is too much of a nice guy to realize he’s being used.”

  She had the feeling that the only one using Emilio was Estefan, but she kept her mouth shut. And as much as she would like to tell Emilio how Estefan was treating her, she would never put herself in the middle of their relationship. She would only be around a few weeks. Emilio and Estefan would be brothers for life.

  She turned to walk back to her room, but Estefan was blocking her way. “Excuse me.”

  “You didn’t say please.”

/>   She met his steely gaze with one of her own, and after several seconds he let her through. She forced herself to walk slowly to her room. The door didn’t have a lock, so she shoved the folding chair under the doorknob—just in case. She didn’t really think Estefan would get physical with her, especially with his brother in the house. But better safe than sorry.

  Life at Emilio’s hadn’t exactly been a picnic, but it hadn’t been terrible, either, and she’d always felt safe. She had the feeling that with Estefan around, those days were over.

  Ten

  Though he wouldn’t have believed it possible, Emilio was starting to think maybe his brother really had changed this time. Good to his word, he hadn’t asked Emilio for a penny. Not even gas money. He’d spent no late nights out partying and, as far as Emilio could tell, had remained sober for the three days he’d been staying there. The animosity that had been a constant thread in their relationship for as many years as Emilio could remember was gradually dissolving.

  When they were growing up, Estefan had always been jealous of Emilio, coveting whatever he had. The cool after-school jobs, the stellar grades and college scholarships. He just hadn’t wanted the hard work that afforded Emilio those luxuries. But now it seemed that Estefan finally got it; he’d figured out what he needed to do, and he was making a valiant effort to change.

  At least, Emilio hoped so.

  Though things at Western Oil were still in upheaval, and he had work he could be doing, Emilio had spent the last couple of evenings in the media room watching ESPN with his brother. He felt as if, for the first time in their lives, he and Estefan were bonding. Acting like real brothers. Besides, spending time with him was helping Emilio keep his mind off Isabelle.

  Since he told her that he wanted to keep things professional, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. The way she tasted when he kissed her, the softness of her skin, the feel of her body pressed against his. She was as responsive to his touch, as hot for him now, as she had been all those years ago. And now that he knew he couldn’t have her, he craved her that much more. This time it had nothing to do with revenge or retribution. He just plain wanted her, and he could tell by the way she looked at him, the loneliness and longing in her eyes, that she wanted him, too. And so, apparently, could Estefan.

  “She wants you, bro,” Estefan said Tuesday evening after dinner, while they were watching a game Emilio had recorded over the weekend.

  “Our relationship is professional,” he told his brother.

  “Why? You could tap that, then kick her to the curb. It would be the ultimate revenge. Use her the way she used you.”

  Which was exactly what Emilio had planned to do, but for some reason now, it just seemed…sleazy. Maybe he was ready to let go of the past. Maybe all this time he’d just been brooding. He wasn’t the only man to ever get his heart broken. Maybe it was time he stopped making excuses, stopped attaching ulterior motives to her decision and face facts. She left him because she’d fallen in love with someone else, and it was time he stopped feeling sorry for himself and got on with his life.

  “Honestly, Estefan, I think she’s getting what she has coming to her. She’s widowed, broke and a month away from spending the rest of her life in prison. She’s about as low as she can possibly sink, yet she’s handling it with grace and dignity.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I might think you actually like her.”

  That was part of the problem. Emilio wasn’t sure how he felt about her. He didn’t hate her, not anymore. But he couldn’t see them ever being best pals. Or even close friends. As the saying went, fool me once, shame on you…

  Once she was in prison, he doubted he would ever see her again. It wasn’t as if he would be going to visit her, or sending care packages.

  If she actually went to prison, that is. The new lead his brother had mentioned could prove her innocence. And if it did? Then what?

  Then, nothing. Innocent or guilty, sexually compatible or not, there was nothing she could say or do that would make up for the past. Not for him, and not for his family. Even if he wanted to be with her, his family would never accept it. Especially his mother. And they came first, simple as that.

  Estefan yawned and stretched. “I have an early start in the morning. I think I’ll turn in.”

  Emilio switched off the television. “Me, too.”

  “By the way,” Estefan said, “I talked to my business associate today. He hit a snag and it’s looking like I won’t get that money until a few days after Thanksgiving. I know I said I would be out of here—”

  “It’s okay,” Emilio heard himself say. “You can stay a few extra days.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Thanks, bro.”

  They said good-night and Emilio walked to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of juice to take up to bed with him. By the light of the range hood he got a glass down from the cupboard and the orange juice from the fridge. He emptied the carton, but when he tried to put it in the trash under the sink, the bag was full.

  He sighed. Mrs. Medina had specifically instructed Izzie to take the kitchen trash out nightly. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d forgotten on purpose, just to annoy him. If that was the case, he was annoyed.

  He considered calling her out to change it, on principle, but it was after eleven and she was usually in bed by now. Instead he pulled the bag out, tied it and put a fresh one in. He carried the full bag to the trash can in the garage, noting on his way the dim sliver of light under Isabelle’s door. Her lamp was on. Either she was still awake, or she’d fallen asleep with the light on again.

  He dropped the bag in the can, glancing over at the Saab. Was that a scratch on the bumper?

  He walked over to look, and on closer inspection saw that it was just something stuck to the paint. He rubbed it clean, made a mental note to tell Isabelle to take it to the car wash the next time she was out, then headed back inside. He expected to find the kitchen empty, but Isabelle was standing in front of the open refrigerator door. She was wearing a well worn plaid flannel robe and her hair was wet.

  “Midnight snack?” he asked.

  She let out a startled squeak and spun around, slamming the door shut. “You scared me half to death!”

  He opened his mouth to say something sarcastic when his eyes were drawn to the front of her robe and whatever he’d been about to say melted somewhere into the recesses of his brain. The robe gaped open at the collar, revealing the uppermost swell of her bare left breast. Not a huge deal normally, but in his present state of craving her, he was transfixed.

  Look away, he told himself, but his eyes felt glued. All he could think about was what it felt like to cup it in his palm, her soft whimpers as he took her in his mouth and how many years he had wondered what it would be like to make love to her.

  Where was his self-control?

  Isabelle followed his gaze down to the front of her robe. He expected her to pull the sides together, maybe get embarrassed.

  She didn’t. She lifted her eyes back to his and just stood there, daring him to make a move.

  Nope, not gonna do it.

  Then she completely stunned him by tugging the tie loose and letting the robe fall open. It was dark, but he could see that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

  Damn.

  You are not going to touch her, he told himself. But Isabelle clearly had other ideas. She walked over to him, took his hand and placed it on her breast.

  Damn.

  He could have pulled away, could have told her no. He should have. Unfortunately his hand seemed to develop a mind of its own. It cupped her breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over her nipple. Isabelle’s eyes went dark with arousal.

  She reached up and unfastened his belt.

  If he was planning to stop her, now would be a good time, but as she undid the clasp on his slacks, he just stood there. She tugged the zipper down, slipped her hand inside…

  He
sucked in a breath as her hand closed around his erection, and for the life of him he couldn’t recall why he thought this was a bad idea. In fact, it seemed like a damned good idea, and if he was going to be totally honest with himself, it had been an inevitability.

  But not here. Not with Estefan in the house. His bedroom wouldn’t be a great idea, either.

  “Your room,” he said, so she took his hand and led him there.

  The desk lamp was on, and he half expected her to shut it off, the way she used to. Not only did she leave the light on, but the minute the door was closed, she dropped her robe. Standing there naked, in the soft light… Damn. He’d never seen anything so beautiful, and he’d only had to wait fifteen years.

  “You have to promise me you won’t stop this time,” she said, unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

  Why stop? If they didn’t do this now, it would just happen later. A day, or a week. But it would happen.

  He took his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out a condom and handed it to her. “I promise.”

  Isabelle smiled and pushed his shirt off his shoulders. “You’ll never know how many times I thought of you over the years.”

  Did you think of me when you were with him? He wanted to ask, but what if he didn’t like the answer?

  She pushed his pants and boxers down and he stepped out of them. “Do you know what I miss more than anything?” she said.

  “What do you miss?”

  “Lying in bed with you, under the covers, wrapped around each other, kissing and touching. Sometimes we were so close it was like we were one person. Do you remember?”

  He did, and he missed it, too, more then she could imagine. There had been a lot of women since Izzie, some who had lasted weeks, and a few who hung around for months, but he never felt that connection. He’d never developed the closeness with them that he’d felt with her.

  She pulled back the covers on the bed and lay down. Emilio slipped in next to her, but when she tried to pull the covers up over them, he stopped her. “No covers this time. I want to look at you.”

  She reached up to touch his face and he realized that her hands were shaking. Could she possibly be nervous? This woman who, a few minutes ago, seemed to know exactly what she wanted and wasn’t the least bit afraid to go after it?