And Then He Kissed Me
Melinda Curtis
Copyright © 2019 by:
Melinda Curtis
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Prologue
Love wasn’t built on proof. It was built on trust. Dotty Summer believed this with all her heart.
Love wasn’t guaranteed by prenuptial agreements, like the one that kept her idiotic son Tim married to a woman he no longer loved.
Love wasn’t a scientific experiment that could be proven or predicted with surveys and box-checking attitude statements.
Love required faith. And real love lasted a lifetime.
More than fifty years ago, Dotty had fallen for a handsome man with a fabulous talent for kissing. It was a bonus that he also had a knack for making money.
Ronald was everything Dotty could have asked for in a husband. When she’d been pregnant, he’d brought her diamonds and ice cream. When he’d gone through his mid-life crisis, he’d traded in their Cadillac–not Dotty.
Men like Ronald didn’t come along every day. And that’s why Dotty was worried her granddaughters weren’t going to be as lucky in love as she’d been. Nobody met someone’s gaze from across a crowded room and fell instantly in love anymore. Nowadays, when people went out, they cradled their cell phones rather than a lover’s hand. They created advertisements for themselves on the internet and they wiped away potential dates (or swiped–Dotty could never remember which) without ever meeting them face-to-face.
Why, even those granddaughters of Dotty’s didn’t take a man’s interest at face value. They’d created something called the Kissing Test, a challenge to a man’s feelings and fidelity. And since they were all beautiful and heiresses, the test was near impossible for a man to pass.
Tests…
When Dotty had kissed her husband half a century ago, it wasn’t to prove something. It was to feel something.
And now…
Ronald had been gone a long time and each tick of Father Time’s clock seemed to chip away at Dotty’s memories and her sense of herself. She’d recently come to terms with her dementia diagnosis and the slew of pills doctors thought she should take. But pills weren’t a cure. Dotty wanted to feel again. That is why a second chance at love (or at least one last passionate fling) was on Dotty’s bucket list.
But if she was going to dip her toe in the deep end of the love pool, she was taking her granddaughters with her, starting with Aubrey, who was taking Dotty as her plus one to a wedding instead of a man.
Let the kissing begin!
Chapter 1
“My granddaughter’s looking for a man,” Grandma Dotty announced as she scaled the bar stool at the Brighton Hotel in Quito, Ecuador. “I’d like him to be wealthy.”
Said grandchild, Aubrey Summer, gasped, a sound lost beneath the bar’s Spanish pop soundtrack.
The handsome bartender stopped polishing a crystal tumbler and scrutinized Aubrey as if debating whether to throw her out or not. The Brighton was a classy hotel, not the type to allow call girls.
Call girls?
Aubrey took stock of her basic little black dress and regained some of her equilibrium. She was a botanist, a nerd since birth. If not for being one of five girls, she wouldn’t know the first thing about walking in heels, choosing a shade of lipstick, or any of the skills that helped a woman navigate the tricky waters of the rich and powerful. Still, no one would mistake her for a lady of the evening.
She forced out a laugh. “What my grandmother means is–”
“She’s looking for someone tall, dark, and virile.” Grandma Dotty straightened her long blue skirt over her short skinny legs. “I need great-grandchildren. It’s on my bucket list.”
“Grandma Dotty.” Everything was on the elderly woman’s bucket list lately. Climbing up the tall bar stool, Aubrey’s sandaled heel got stuck on the second rung. Her foot twisted, and she would’ve fallen to the floor if not for her grandmother’s firm grip on her arm.
Dorothy Summer was old, petite, and fighting dementia, but she had a wiry strength.
“Why are you so picky about men?” Releasing Aubrey, Grandma Dotty squinted at the bartender. “If you don’t want wealthy, this one is rather handsome and tall. With a man like that, you could wear heels on your wedding day.”
I will never, ever, take Grandma Dotty on a trip–alone–again.
Aubrey smiled apologetically at the bartender. “You’ll have to forgive my grandmother. She’s never been to sexual harassment training.” Aubrey was going to have to leave a big tip to compensate for
Grandma Dotty’s brash comments, especially if the bartender’s English was good. They were here for a week of wedding festivities and Aubrey didn’t want to be banned from the bar.
Thankfully, the lights dimmed, and the volume of the music increased.
“Listen, Bree, if I’m your plus one at this wedding, you need help.” Grandma Dotty used the square napkin the bartender had put in front of her as a small fan. The night was muggy and warm, and the French doors were open to a small veranda. “Thirty has come and gone–”
“Two months ago.”
“–and those eggs of yours aren’t getting any younger.” Grandma Dotty leaned toward the bartender conspiratorially. “You’d date her, wouldn’t you?”
“Grandma…” Aubrey warned.
The bartender chuckled. “A man would have to be dead not to want to date your granddaughter.” Despite his thick accent, he had excellent English, which was demoralizing to Aubrey. It meant a big tip was definitely called for.
“Can I smell you?” Grandma Dotty just kept rolling along her matchmaking track. “My granddaughter lost her nose, and too much cologne on a man gives me nasal polyps.”
Aubrey felt a little light-headed. The tip doubled.
“I can smell myself,” Aubrey said. At the bartender’s raised brows, she quickly revised, “I can smell him myself. I mean…Oh, forget it.” Her lack of sensory skill would be lost on the man.
“Not that Bree has a repugnant odor.” Grandma Dotty was quick to defend Aubrey. “In fact, she smells very nice. Give him your wrist, Bree, so he can experience your scent.”
Aubrey rubbed her temples and snuck a glance toward the nearest exit, which happened to be the doorway leading to the lobby, the elevator, and the room she and her grandmother shared. They were meeting the wedding party here. How bad would it look for a bridesmaid to beg off the first night of festivities with a Dotty-induced headache?
A man stepped into the arching entrance, a cell phone pressed to his ear. His suit was tailored and of the finest black wool. His tie was silk, a rich pattern of teal and brown. His hair, his eyes, and his expression were dark and imposing, dangerous even.
Tall, dark, and virile.
Without meaning to, Aubrey sighed.
He’d make beautiful babies.
Aubrey shook off the thought. She was a bridesmaid in a wedding, not on the lookout for a baby daddy.
And yet, there was something magnetic about Mr. Imposing.
Could he be the man she was looking for?
“Listen…” Aubrey swung around to read the bartender’s name tag. “…Gilberto. My grandmother’s right. I am looking for a man.” She ignored the innuendo in Gilberto’s gaze. “A man named Marcos Alfaro.”
The reclusive billionaire had made his first fortune buying a dependable, affordable motorcycle brand and turning it into a sexy, affordable motorcycle brand, doubling the brand’s sales in Latin America. He
now owned several businesses and properties, including the Brighton Hotel, the most exclusive resort in Quito, as well as the recently purchased Caradoc Confections, a competitor of Bon Bon Chocolate, the company where Aubrey worked as a botanist, developing new strains of cocoa plants and yeast fermenters that produced richer, more flavorful chocolate.
The scowling, sexy man in the doorway looked like a billionaire who’d do anything to advance innovation in his company, including hiring Aubrey’s assistant instead of conducting years of his own research.
“Marcos Alfaro,” Aubrey repeated softly, studying the bartender’s expression closely. “Ring any bells?”
The bartender shook his head. If he noticed the man in the bar’s doorway, he gave no indication.
“Are we drinking?” Grandma Dotty glanced around the rapidly filling bar.
It was nearly nine, and the recently remodeled Brighton was a popular destination of Quito’s young and elite. It was also a popular venue for weddings, which was why Aubrey and her grandmother were staying there. Aubrey was a bridesmaid at her friend Layla’s wedding. The fact that the hotel was Marcos Alfaro’s property was just a bonus.
“Let’s drink.” Grandma Dotty perked up.
“No.” That had been one of her father’s strictest instructions before they left New York – not to give Grandma Dotty alcohol.
“If we’re mingling with the wedding party, I want a drink,” her grandmother said firmly. “A daiquiri.”
“A virgin daiquiri,” Aubrey insisted.
“For the love of Mike,” Grandma Dotty said in a loud voice, tossing her hands. “Nobody wants a virgin anything. Least of all men like Marcos Alfaro.”
*
Marcos Antonio Alfaro–Nino to his friends–finished his phone call and heard his given name.
It had been a hellish day. He’d hired an American scientist at an enormous salary and paid to move him to Ecuador because Nino wanted to improve the quality of the cocoa beans he was purchasing. Eugene Malcolm had claimed he was familiar with the cutting-edge techniques being utilized by Bon Bon Chocolate with their growers. Why hadn’t the man admitted he’d signed a non-disclosure agreement with his last employer? Or that he had the principles to abide by his signature? Eugene was useless to Nino.
And now, when Nino was ready to relax and welcome the Bolivar family to his property for their daughter’s wedding, a foreigner was dropping his name. What drama faced him tonight?
Nino’s brain did a little rewind, replaying the old woman’s words, the most striking of which was virgin.
Two women sat nearby with their backs to Nino at the end of the bar. The elderly woman who’d spoken had short white hair that frizzed about her head, a tragedy of the humidity in Quito. That hair, combined with her thin, petite frame and pale blue dress made her seem frail. Her companion was a much younger, willowy brunette wearing a conservative black dress. The elegant twist to her straight, dark brown hair marked her as sophisticated. Her posture labeled her as determined.
And since Nino’s name had come up, the question was…Determined about what?
“Don’t be a stick in the mud, Aubrey,” the older woman was saying as Nino approached. “If you must know, I want you to get busy because I’m set on having a fling while I’m down here. It’s on my bucket list. One last yahoo before I forget who I am.”
“Grandma Dotty.” The delicate shells of Aubrey’s ears turned bright red. “This conversation is going to scar me for life.”
Gilberto’s gaze met Nino’s briefly. He was a good bartender, but more importantly, he was discrete. Gilberto smiled at the women. “Virgin daiquiri? Yes or no?”
“Yes,” Aubrey said at the same time her grandmother said, “No. Give me the juice.”
“Canelazo.” Nino leaned on the corner of the bar and made the decision for them. He drew upon his most winning smile, the one that charmed his abuela. Charm would get him what he wanted to know, the why behind the old woman speaking his name. “Canelazo is the traditional drink of welcome in Ecuador.”
“No, thank you.” Aubrey shook her head and gave Nino a dismissive glance, a quick slant of milk chocolate eyes. She had pale skin and the slender, refined lines of women from America’s northeast.
He could envision her bundled up in a cream-colored, cable knit sweater while she went cross-country skiing. He could not envision her riding one of his motorbikes through Quito’s congested streets.
What was she doing here?
“No brandy,” Aubrey said firmly.
“No fun, you mean,” her grandmother muttered.
Nino was intrigued. And not just by the outspoken old woman. Aubrey’s familiarity with Ecuadorian traditions, like canelazo being made with brandy, was unusual for an American.
“I never have any fun.” Her grandmother made a grumpy noise, very similar to the one Nino’s abuela had made when Nino told her he wasn’t going to buy her an Italian sports car for her ninetieth birthday.
When thwarted, grandmothers, it turned out, were the same no matter what nation they came from.
Beside him, Aubrey set her red lips in a thin line.
“How did you know about canelazo?” Nino asked, when he should have questioned the beauty about her interest in Marcos Alfaro.
“I’ve been to Ecuador many times.” Aubrey frowned, as if her knowledge was none of his business.
Nino’s bachelor warning system flipped to the ON position. Most women would be thrilled to have Nino show interest in them. Most women were willing to take whatever sliver of time he carved out of his busy work life to be with him. But not this woman. This woman would demand her man be thrilled to be in her company. She’d expect her man to bend over backward to make time for her company. And she’d insist her man put his company second to her company. She’d never settle for a sliver of his time. She was therefore not worth what little time he could spare this evening.
Nino shifted in his seat and gathered the words he’d use in his smooth exit: A pleasure to meet you. Have a wonderful evening.
“Now,” Aubrey said in a weary voice before he had a chance to speak. “Unless you mean to have a fling with my grandmother, you’d best move along. Studies have shown women bond with men the
longer a man lingers, and my grandmother has a male companion on her bucket list.”
He was being dismissed? That was unheard of.
“I was going to give you first crack at him, Bree,” her grandmother said. “Since I’m the DUFF here.”
Aubrey rolled her expressive brown eyes. “You are not the Designated Ugly Fat Friend, and I’m not on a trip to pick up men.”
Nino didn’t know why they were here, but her grandmother was not ugly. Her face, though wrinkled, was a soft pink and elegantly framed, an indicator that she’d been a beauty in her youth. And she wasn’t fat. She couldn’t have weighed more than forty-five kilograms.
She nudged Aubrey’s shoulder and nodded in Nino’s direction. “Take a second look at this one, Bree. He looks so–”
“Don’t say it,” Aubrey cut in, putting a hand over her eyes.
“–tall,” the old woman said with far too much innocence to be believed.
Nino chuckled, all thoughts of saying goodbye departing. Talking to these women made the obstacles he’d faced at his chocolate company today weigh less heavily upon him. “Since brandy is too strong, we shall all have a sauvignon blanc. My treat.”
“My grandmother will have sparkling water.” Aubrey turned, angling her knees toward Nino. Determination wasn’t just in her posture. It was in her eyes as well. “If you have an ounce of self-preservation behind those lady-killer eyes of yours, señor, you’ll seek shelter elsewhere.”
Nino laughed out-right this time. Whoever won this woman’s heart would wage a hard-fought battle. “Don’t worry about me. A strong man can weather a hurricane.” He didn’t know why he said it. He had no inclination to weather a romance.
Gilberto slid a sparkling water in front of Aubrey’s grandmot
her, and then began uncorking a bottle of sauvignon blanc.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Aubrey’s gaze wasn’t flirtatious. It was defiant. She introduced
herself and her grandmother Dotty without adding their surnames. “And you are…”
He could impress her by telling her his given name, but the challenge in her eyes was a welcome distraction, if only for a few minutes. “Nino. I’m called Nino.”
Aubrey seemed disappointed.
For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.
Chapter 2
Mr. Imposing wasn’t Marcos Alfaro.
Aubrey had been gearing up for an angry confrontation, but Nino wasn’t her enemy.
And yet, the blood in her veins refused to calm.
It’s all that talk about virility.
It made her notice things that made Nino attractive. Broad shoulders. An easy smile. The aura of a man who knew his place in the world.
Her hand trembled as she reached for her glass of white wine. She took a generous gulp.
“Mi cielo.” Nino’s hand covered her wrist in a touch that was electrifying. “That may only be a sauvignon blanc, but it is not the kind of wine you chug.” That deep, lyrical accent. His gaze met hers. Shocking in its intensity.
Mi cielo.
The words echoed in her head.
Mi cielo. Mi cielo.
It meant “my heaven.”
My goodness.
Nino was smooth when it came to the ladies.
Aubrey had been to Ecuador many times. Her extended family owned a cocoa plantation a few hours south of Quito. Her good friend Layla had grown up here. She’d met many well-dressed Latin men. But Nino was different. Stimulating. Shocking. Smooth. Nino…
Nino breaks hearts.
Aubrey stared at his long fingers splayed across her wrist.
Please don’t break mine.
She struggled to draw a breath, to drop her gaze, to retract her hand.
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