Trust Me

by K Ayers

  “I’m sure you will do all you can to calm my fears, Ms. Davidson.”

  That accent was killing her. Cassidy thought Alejandro Vega could read out of a recipe book and make it sound erotic.

  “I can’t ask you to take time from your day to show me around, Mr. Vega. I’m sure you have much more important things to do, and I know your time is precious.”

  “Do you know so much about me then, Ms. Davidson?” That lazy smile came back as he regarded her.

  “Not at all, Mr. Vega. I assumed you had better things to do than take me through your house. Your brother inferred you were quite busy.”

  “My brother was incorrect. I have nothing scheduled today.” He was watching her intently. “I am happy to show you my house.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Vega.”

  He stood and waved for Cassidy to proceed him. “I’m rarely kind.”

  Cassidy wondered at the remark but moved past him in the direction he pointed. She caught another whiff of the spicy masculine scent he wore. She imagined he was looking at her ass.

  “I think offering to show your house when you really don’t care to rent it is very kind of you, Mr. Vega. I can’t speak for your behavior outside of that,” Cassidy replied in a casual tone.

  “You could call me Alex. Or are you brave enough to use Alejandro?”

  “I think I’ll salvage my pride and use Mr. Vega.”

  “As you wish, Ms. Davidson.”

  Cassidy had to keep from sighing in rapture when she looked at the house. As a historical architect and restoration expert, she found the Vega hacienda to be dazzling. The living room was definitely part of the original home. She ran her fingers lightly over the exposed stone, wondering at the person who built this house so long ago.

  “How old is the house, Mr. Vega?”

  “I believe it was built in 1802. A little over two hundred years old.”

  Cassidy felt the intensity of his gaze as she explored the living room. Expertly and lovingly restored, the main room of the house was decorated in varying hues of green and blue. Large canvases of original artwork adorned the walls. Looking closer, Cassidy recognized several local artists who worked in San Miguel.

  Wooden beams ran the length of the ceiling. Most were ancient and worn, giving the room an intimate feel. The restoration was barely noticeable.

  “The beams are original, aren’t they?” Cassidy couldn’t take her eyes off the room.

  “Yes. This side of the house is all original.” A dark brow raised in question. “You look as if you have just fallen in love, Ms. Davidson.”

  Cassidy felt herself blush. “I love old houses. It’s like opening a window into the past.” She forced herself to stop touching the walls and took more photos.

  “Are you a historian, Ms. Davidson?”

  She pulled the camera away from her face. “I am. I’m finishing up my doctorate in Historical Architecture. My Masters is in historical restoration. So yeah, I'm a little in love with your house.”

  “You are a profesor. How intriguing.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Come.” He didn’t wait for her to follow but exited the living room and moved down another long hallway. Shamefully, she took the opportunity to look at his ass. It was magnificent just like the rest of him.

  Tiny Mayan and Aztec figures looked up at Cassidy from discreet alcoves. The tile under her feet resembled that in the living room but wasn’t an exact match. This part of the house was new and had been added on recently. Only someone like Cassidy would notice the subtle differences in the tile and stone between this hallway and the living room.

  Stopping to study one figure, Cassidy thought the sculpture should be in a museum instead of the hallway of some billionaire. No wonder Vega was reluctant to rent this house. The theft or damage to the art alone could be a small catastrophe. She made a mental note to inform Miriam. There needed to be a special rider in the rental insurance to cover the theft and damage of these treasures.

  “Are you coming, Ms. Davidson?” He paused at the end of the hallway, regarding her impatiently.

  Cassidy wondered if anyone ever disobeyed him. From his tone, she thought it unlikely. She snapped two more photos and hurried to catch up with him, admiring the way he moved. Alejandro Vega had an easy way of walking. Almost as if he were dancing. What would it be like to dance with a man like him?

  Like sex.

  “The dining room,” an elegant wave of his hand ushered her in.

  A dark wooden table with fourteen chairs dominated the room. Made in the Spanish style, the legs were thick and intricately carved with a design of flowers and vines. Old cuts and dents marred the surface of the table. It had to weigh a ton.

  Cassidy adored the table immediately.

  Noting her interest, Vega nodded towards the table. “Antique.” Moving to stand next to her, he ran a graceful finger around the edge of one particularly deep cut that looked as if it had been made with an axe.

  “I found this table at an estate sale held at a home of one of Mexico City’s prominent residents.” He shrugged and his shoulders rippled beneath the dark blue of his suit. “You wouldn’t know who they were if I told you. Suffice it to say the family had more money than taste. At any rate, I wandered about the sale, bored with the mounds of sterling silver, picture frames, and jewelry, looking for something unique in a house full of mediocrity.”

  “Jewels and silver are mediocre?”

  “Everyone has them. They are nothing special.” One side of his mouth ticked up as he peered at her. “Ah. You think I am a snob, Ms. Davidson?”

  That was exactly what she’d been thinking. Besides being arrogant, Mr. Vega was also incredibly perceptive.

  “I assure you I am not,” he continued. “I was just looking for something unique.” His gaze lingered on her mouth for an instant.

  “The table?” Cassidy touched the worn wood and traced the groove, her heart fluttering madly at his regard.

  “Sí. The table.” His eyes caught and held hers. “I found it by accident. The former owner had left it in a sunroom, gathering dust, littered with gardening implements, but I saw what lay beneath. I had not planned on buying a table at the estate sale. Just as I did not expect to play tour guide today. Sometimes fortune smiles on you when you least expect it.”

  His hand ran over the top of the table, stopping only inches from her own fingers.

  She stared at his hand, large and masculine, so close to hers. The urge to touch him was nearly overwhelming. A brief vision of having sex with Alejandro Vega on this table flashed through her mind. Horrified, Cassidy stammered. “The table is wonderful. I’ll just take a couple of shots from over there.”

  She stepped back, wobbling a bit on her platform sandals.

  “The kitchen and sunroom are through here.” The blue eyes swept down to take in her footwear. “Would you be happier, Ms. Davidson, if you took off your shoes? I would be less fearful that you would injure yourself.”

  How embarrassing. “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Vega.”

  The kitchen was definitely modern. The Viking range had eight burners and a grill running down the middle. A wine fridge discreetly hid beneath the counter and an oversized stainless steel refrigerator sat at one end. There was also a butler’s pantry. But it was the large island that drew Cassidy’s eye. Carved from rose quartz and circled by six leather bar chairs, the island was lit underneath with soft light.

  “I didn’t expect an American kitchen. It’s amazing. Designed for a master chef.”

  Vega gave a careless shrug of his elegant shoulders. “Marisol has not complained. That is the sunroom. Or enclosed patio, whichever you wish to call it.”

  Vega lead her around the corner from the kitchen to a large, sunny room with windows on three sides. Chairs and couches covered with what looked like soft, comfortable, worn fabric were grouped to make conversation easy. A stone fireplace sat at one end of the room. She could see the fireplace warmed not only the sun
room but could be lit from the courtyard outside.

  “Oh.” Cassidy stepped out through the French door that stood open into the courtyard. The view of San Miguel was amazing. Mountains stood majestically in the distance while at the base sat the colonial sprawl of San Miguel. It looked as if it the scene should be on a postcard. The view would be stunning at sunrise or sunset.

  To the left of the doors, a hibiscus blossom floated in a deep blue kidney-shaped pool with a hot tub at the far end. People would rent this house purely for the pool and this view.

  “It’s lovely, Mr. Vega.”

  “Alex.” He turned to her as a breeze ruffled his shirt exposing a small triangle of olive skin sprinkled with dark hair. “Yes, unexpectedly lovely.”

  He was not looking at the view, but at her.

  THREE

  Alejandro wanted her the moment he saw her.

  When he wandered into the small sitting room earlier, his only thought had been to get rid of Miriam Logan as soon as possible.

  Only the woman standing in his living room had not been Miriam Logan.

  She stood before the large picture window, her hair glowing with fire as the sunlight lit her form. A gorgeous rust color, his hands automatically curled just thinking of running his fingers through the heavy mass that fell around her shoulders. Alejandro almost tripped as he entered the room.

  He never tripped.

  The dress she wore was a pale green color. She probably didn’t realize the thin linen was see-through or else she wouldn’t be standing in front of the window. Every delicious curve was outlined. Unfortunately, the dress came down to her calves. A disappointment. He wanted to see her legs. She wore ridiculous platform sandals. Her toes were painted green.

  Neon green. A color he’d never cared for. Until now.

  The tips of her breasts, small and round, poked against the linen of her dress. He caught himself wondering what color her nipples were. With her coloring, he thought pale pink.

  Alejandro’s entire body jolted as his eyes met the warm hazel of hers. Heat suffused his skin. It was like downing a large shot of tequila.

  Dios.

  What was wrong with him? He was acting like a high school boy who had never seen a girl before. It was an unsettling, unwanted feeling.

  I want her.

  More unsettling was the way his fingers burned when he took her hand. The desire for her was sharp. Knifelike. He knew at that moment they would be lovers.

  Cassidy Davidson knew it too.

  Was she aware of the way her body leaned towards his? Or that when he spoke, her eyes lingered over his mouth? A light flush colored her cheeks when she looked at him, making her skin glow beneath her lightly tanned skin.

  Cassidy reminded him of a ripe peach.

  Alejandro hoped Cassidy would trip on her silly platforms because then he would need to catch her. He wanted desperately to touch that glowing skin.

  As he followed Cassidy around the pool, Alejandro stayed one or two steps behind her in case she fell. The platform sandals wobbled dangerously with every step. She pretended to not notice him. Alejandro found that particularly adorable. Woman had been noticing him since he was fifteen.

  “So, you are to be a professor of architecture and history? A very curious major, Ms. Davidson.” That she would soon sit for her doctorate impressed him. Alejandro valued intelligence and the discipline it took to pursue a doctoral degree. Historical architecture was such an obscure area of study.

  “I thought only old men in cardigans studied such a thing.”

  She laughed at the question, and her entire face lit up, a telling sign she laughed often. “You mean why would I chose something so boring?”

  “I do not think it boring at all,” he assured her. “But keep in mind, I’m a petroleum engineer. If you ever want to see an occupation full of nerds in sweaters, it is engineering, no?”

  Ms. Davidson, no Cassidy, giggled at his remark, her lips widening so he saw the tip of her tongue. “I go to Rice, Mr. Vega. I have seen plenty of nerds and you do not exactly fit the mold. I doubt you have a pocket protector in that suit.”

  The giggle made Alejandro want to kiss her.

  “How did you come by this interest in old buildings, Ms. Davidson? I find it an odd choice for a woman living in a city with a lack of historical buildings.” At her look of mild confusion, he continued, “I’m familiar with Houston, as is anyone in the oil business.”

  “I suppose you are.” She knelt to take a photo and the front of her dress gaped open, allowing Alejandro to see the delicate curve of her breast. “I have an aunt that summers in Newport. Have you ever been to Newport?”

  Alejandro barely heard her answer. Cassidy Davidson wasn’t wearing a bra which answered his question concerning the color of her nipples. A pale pink, like the underside of a seashell. His cock hardened to granite.

  “Newport Beach?” He wanted to taste the tip of that pink nipple. Taste her. Lick every bit of Cassidy Davidson right down to her neon green toes. Alejandro had to tell himself to focus on what she was saying.

  “No. Newport, Rhode Island. Home of the famous Gilded Age mansions.” She stood and smiled at him. “I was visiting my aunt one summer, and she bought me a pass from the historical society. I spent a week just roaming through those giant houses. The minute I walked into the Breakers I lost my heart. The smell of old everything, paneling, floors, wood. The yellowing patina of the paint. I find all of it intoxicating.”

  The blissful look that crossed her face gave Alejandro all sorts of ideas. Namely, how he could make her look so blissful.

  “I’m working on my dissertation now. If all goes well I will graduate in June. Luxe is my part-time job. I hope to work in restoration. Perhaps save what little is left of Houston’s history before they tear it down. There are some beautiful homes on the edge of downtown that deserve to be restored. I want a shot at overseeing the work.”

  Her face was lit with passion when she spoke. History seemed like such a dry occupation for this beautiful woman, but he could see the past touched her deeply.

  “Then you must adore San Miguel. Nearly every street is lined with old homes and churches, some dating from the early 17th century. It’s hard to believe but San Miguel was once a great trade center, situated as it is on the way to Mexico City.” He turned and nodded to the house behind them. “This hacienda was once the home of one of San Miguel’s wealthiest families. The Garcia family owned most of this side of the mountain and the lands below. The estate employed nearly one hundred people. After sitting abandoned for many years, purchased it the property. The remaining Garcia heir lives in Monterrey and owns a string of nightclubs. He had no interest in returning to San Miguel.”

  “You have an affinity for old houses and history as well, Mr. Vega. The restoration in the living room alone must have taken years. What made you decide on this house?”

  My ex-girlfriend wanted this house to remodel. “A friend,” he hesitated, “wanted me to purchase it. I can’t take credit for having a discerning eye, unfortunately.”

  Cassidy looked up from her camera. “She has good taste. The property is exquisite.”

  “Yes, she does. We are no longer together.” The words came out before he could stop them. What had made him say that?

  Cassidy nodded in acknowledgement as she walked around the pool. She cast him a shy look from beneath her lashes as she knelt to take more photos.

  Lust and something else made Alejandro’s heart thump hard inside his chest. The whole conversation, dusty houses and historical architecture, had been incredibly arousing.

  “If I could just get some shots of the bedrooms, we’ll be finished.” All business, Cassidy walked back towards him. Her pretty features were serious and professional. She was trying very hard not look at him.

  Alejandro saw the crack in the tile before she did. He reached out to her as the sole of her shoe hit the small pothole. Tilting wildly toward the pool, Cassidy reached out to grab him for support.
Her fingers clutched at the lapels of his suit to steady herself.

  Her effort only succeeded in pulling them both into the pool.

  Cold water rushed over his head, ruining his expensive suit. Alejandro was having a marvelous time. The most fun he’d had in ages. Laughing, he surfaced and stood since the pool was only about five foot deep.

  Cassidy pawed desperately at the water, a slightly panicked look on her face. Immediately he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards the tanning ledge.

  She clutched at his shoulders for dear life. Water streamed down her face as she sputtered out an apology. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Alejandro wasn’t sorry. Her clumsiness allowed him to touch her. Setting her on the tanning ledge, he reached up and pushed the wet strands of hair out of her eyes. A protective feeling tugged at him, mingling with possessiveness and lust. An incredible amount of lust.

  “I should have made you take your shoes off, Ms. Davidson.” He could see the dark shadow of her nipples through the dress. It was all he could do not to press his mouth to the dusky circle and suckle her through the wet linen. He moved back from her and looked away. For someone that prided himself on the depth of his self-control and detachment, especially in dealing with women, Alejandro was doing a miserable job of controlling himself where this small redhead was concerned.

  “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Mr. Vega. I tripped. Oh shit, where’s the camera?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “And I’ve ruined your suit.” She turned a bright red. “I’ll reimburse you.” A worried look came over her face. “I promise.”

  “Don’t worry about the suit, Ms. Davidson. I have others.” The linen of her dress was clinging to her body leaving little to the imagination. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. Just my pride.” She bit her lip. “I don’t know how to swim, so I panicked when I hit the water. I’m so sorry.”

  He looked down at the bottom of the pool where a small black object sat. “I don’t think your camera fared as well. Sunk, I’m afraid.”