Her Latin Lover (Contemporary Romance) (10 page)

“No, I didn’t. I got it later, but that is another story. Too many sad stories in one evening are not a good idea, especially on the night of a fiesta.” He looked at her carefully trying to judge her mood. She had taken his hand in hers and was standing right up against him. He could smell her heady, sensual perfume. He didn’t want to push her too far, too fast, but he decided to take a chance and muttered, “Maybe we should forget the fiesta and stay here instead?” Isabella was out for the night celebrating in Corazon with her family and although there were men guarding outside, they would be completely alone in the house.

“Maybe we should,” she whispered back.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly up against him. He wanted to keep her close, not just now, but always. He looked down at her face. He didn’t see Clara, but a completely different woman: a woman who would be a true match for him, his equal. She started to open her mouth to say something. He could see the tiny gap between her two front teeth and before she had a chance to speak, he silenced her by planting his own lips firmly on hers and lost himself in her.

“Bang! Bang!” It wasn’t guns, but the sound of someone knocking on the main door of the hacienda.

At first Paulo tried to ignore it, but the knocking persisted.

“Señor!” someone shouted from the other side of the entrance.

“Maybe you should see what he wants,” Mary said. She ran a finger down the front of his shirt, stopping just short of the top of his trousers.

“Maybe we should leave it and go upstairs?” Paulo countered.

Mary backed off. “What if it’s El Leon? The lion at the gate?” She didn’t sound as if she was scared of the prospect of El Leon and his thugs charging through the door. She sounded more like she was trying to keep Paulo at arm’s length. Maybe she was teasing him, or maybe he had pushed her too far by suggesting that they go up to his bedroom.

“Señor! Señor!” the voice outside persisted.

Although Mary might not be worried about El Leon and his men coming to the house, Paulo knew that it was a very real and very unwelcome possibility. He had to go and check. He had lost Clara; he wasn’t going to lose Mary.

He opened he door. In front of him stood Javier and Carlos with a small group of his farmers. All of them were armed to the teeth. To Paulo’s relief, they weren’t disturbing him because of El Leon; they were asking if they could go to the fiesta. Paulo turned round and explained the situation to Mary.

“They should go to the fiesta and then we would be completely alone,” Mary said as she smoothed down the creases in her blouse. She arched her back slightly, pushing up her breasts towards him as she did so.

So he hadn’t scared her off; she was just teasing him. From the way she looked at him with her large golden eyes, he could tell that deep down she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. However, he could not risk it. If El Leon heard that all of his men were partying in Corazon, he would know that Mary was alone with him, unguarded prey for him to pounce on.

Paulo talked to his men again.

“They say that I promised that they could all go to the fiesta, which I did,” Paulo explained to Mary. “Carlos is willing to stay, but if El Leon’s men come, Carlos and I will struggle to defend you.”

“I’m not a poor, hapless damsel in distress.”

“No, you’re not, but you have no idea what that man and his bandits can do,” he replied and he wasn’t going to explain it to her either. He was thankful that she hadn’t seen the disgusting emails, which he knew were not just empty threats.

“Then maybe we should all go to the fiesta? Surely El Leon, or whatever his name is, wouldn’t dare to attack me in front of an entire town?”

“OK then, let’s go, but we better hurry up, we’re already late.” The sooner they went to the fiesta, the sooner he could get her and some of his men back to the house again and continue where he had left off kissing her.

Chapter 9

At first Mary was reluctant to go to Corazon. She would much rather have stayed at the house with Paulo. When he bent down to kiss her, it was the most amazing feeling she’d ever had. She never knew that there could be so much force and passion in a mere kiss. If that was how he kissed, what was he like in bed? However, it looked like she would have to wait a bit longer to find out, only she wasn’t planning on having just a one-night stand with him. To her huge relief, she now knew that he was single and so was she. There was no reason why they couldn’t get together for the few weeks that she had left in the country. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend the rest of her time in South America than experiencing more of Paulo’s kisses and exploring his muscular, tanned body.

The story he told her about the woman in the picture was awful; no wonder he still lit candles in front of the painting every night. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than losing your best friend and fiancé the night before your wedding and by the sounds of it, he was driving the car when it crashed. She couldn’t remember if he said anything about why the car crashed. Maybe he’d been drinking? He certainly didn’t drink much now. She’d never seen anyone make a drink last as long as he did. Poor Paulo! He must have suffered a lot of guilt over that accident. However, it was ten years ago and he should certainly try to move on, even if it was with someone who looked a lot like his dead girlfriend.

But how much did Mary look like the dead fiancé? Paulo said that they were completely different and Mary could begin to see that when she studied the painting. She’d examined the picture again while Paulo was getting his men ready to go to the fiesta and she noticed that although they shared similar features they didn’t seem to share the same temperaments. The woman in the painting looked down at the floor as if she was too shy to meet the painter’s gaze and her shoulders were hunched slightly forward in an attempt to make herself appear smaller and less obtrusive. In contrast, Mary thrust her shoulders back and looked people straight in the eye. She might be short and slender, but there was an awful lot of her to contend with.

She had been stupid enough to let Nick mess her about, but she’d learnt from that disaster. From now on, no one was ever going to treat her that way again. She would be strong, confident and believe in herself. She looked over at Paulo in the driver’s seat at they made their way to the fiesta. He didn’t seem like a man who would mistreat her. There was a sincerity about him that made her feel that she could trust him. He’d been wounded himself by both his mother’s and then Clara’s early deaths; he wasn’t the kind of man who would harm others in return. In addition, he was incredibly sexy. She couldn’t wait to start kissing him again. Maybe they could go to the fiesta, quickly find some other men that would be willing to stand guard at the hacienda and drive back, then she could find out what it was like to taste more of him.

However, when they arrived at the fiesta, she was thrilled that they had come. If the town square looked beautiful in the afternoon, it looked absolutely electric at night. Thousands of coloured lights hung from every exterior surface and huge candles burned at the top of the church steps, sheltered by large glass covers. Opposite the church a simple stage had been erected in front of the courthouse and on it a band was playing loud, fast music. Below the musicians, dozens of people were dancing and singing along. Mary could make out the figure of the hotel waitress, her face lit up with laughter as she danced with a handsome young man. Both of them held plastic cups of wine in their hands which sloshed about as they twirled around each other.

On the other side of the square, stood the lanky Señor Marcos, his hair more heavily greased back than usual. He was presiding over a make-shift, outdoor bar, one of several dotted around the edges of the square. At another of these bars, Mary could see Isabella wearing a bright blue dress, trimmed with wide, white ruffles. Surrounding her were a group of children of varying ages that Mary guessed were her nieces and nephews. As soon as Isabella saw her and Paulo, she rushed over and kissed both of them warmly on each cheek. All of the children ran over as well and hugged Paulo, but they were not sure how to approach Mary. Isabella introduced her to them in Spanish and one by one they came and politely shook her hand. Paulo reached down and lifted up one of the younger boys into his arms.

“This is Juan, or Juanito as his mother likes to call him. One day Juan is going to be a doctor, aren’t you Juan? You’re going to cure people who are sick.” He tousled the boy’s thick, short hair.

“No entiendo nada,” the little boy complained.

Paulo said it again in Spanish so the boy could understand. The child responded by raising his head and trying to look important. He then asked Paulo a question.

“He wants to know who you are,” Paulo told Mary. “What should I say? Maybe I should tell him that you are a tourist who is stuck in Corazon for a few weeks, but I don’t think that sounds very friendly. If I tell him that you are my house guest that sounds a little formal, don’t you think? Perhaps I should say that I won you in a poker game and I am now keeping you as my hostage in the hills, but if I say that he’ll ask me why you are walking around as free as a bird at the fiesta.”

Mary could see that he was teasing her. However, she didn’t think that anyone could understand what they were saying, so she replied, “Maybe you should tell him that I am going to be your lover and that you can’t wait to get me home to seduce me.”

He gave her a sly smile. “Maybe he’s a little too young for such an explanation.” Paulo mumbled something to the boy and set him down.

Mary was excited that he didn’t disagree with her. She was now more certain than ever that they both wanted exactly the same thing. Maybe they should think about leaving the fiesta and heading back to his hacienda.

“We should dance,” he said. He took her hand and led her towards the crowd of people waltzing in front of the stage on which the band was playing.

Instead of the flaying of arms and wiggling of legs that Mary’s other boyfriends had called dancing, Paulo held her up against him and steered her gracefully around the other couples. It took a while for her to fall into line with his movements, but once she began to relax, they started to flow as a pair. However, the music soon ended and they came to a halt.

“Do you know how to dance the tango?” he asked.

“More or less.” She had seen it on TV dozens of times though she had never actually done it.

“Don’t worry. We dance a slight variation of the tango here. It might not be the same style that you are used to, but I’m sure that together, we’ll be able to do it.” Paulo put his arm around her waist and called out something to the band. One of the people on the stage, an old man holding a guitar, laughed and shouted something back, and then the whole group of musicians began playing a song with a strong, heavy beat. At the sound of the music, dozens of local men grabbed their partners and began dancing with them.

Paulo took Mary’s hand and this time he thrust her up against his chest and began to take powerful strides across the dance floor. When he reached the edge, he placed his hand at the very base of her spine and threw her back so far that for a moment she thought she was going to fall backwards. He leaned over her. Mary held her breath as his lips came within millimetres of her own. She closed her eyes and waited, but instead of kissing her, he lifted her back up and swung her round. With his leg placed firmly between her own, he gyrated his hips slowly against hers in deep circular movements, before leading her back across the front of the stage. By the time the tango finished, Mary was flushed and out of breath. The dance had been more intense and provocative than his kissing, if that could be possible. In fact, her one dance with him was better than most of the sex that she had experienced in her life.

“Would you like to sit down for a while?” he asked. Unlike Mary, Paulo looked perfectly composed. He was obviously more used to dancing sensual tangos than she was. He was also probably more used to the oppressive heat that bore down on the valley in which Corazon was located.

“Why don’t we get something to drink first?” she suggested.

“Excellent idea.” He walked over to the nearest bar, ordered two glasses of punch and placed one of them in her hand. Mary took a large swig. It tasted sweet and syrupy.

“Careful. It’s made with a very strong, local liqueur. Quite a few of my men appear to have had too much of it already.” Paulo was looking at a group of farmers who sat on a long bench by the edge of the square. Even though they were some distance away, Mary could hear them singing and shouting at each other.

“Would you please excuse me for a minute? I think I should have a little talk with them.” He put his drink down on a small wooden table. Mary noticed that he hadn’t even touched it even though she’d already finished hers. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, the heat, or the dancing, but she began to feel slightly dizzy. She looked around for somewhere to sit, but all the chairs were taken by elderly matrons, swathed in black, eating large helpings of rice and beans from white plastic plates.

“You’re a very good dancer,” said a strange voice that was breathing down the back of her neck. “Come and dance with me Clara.”

“My name’s not Clara.” Mary turned around to see who was speaking and came face-to-face with the fat man that had pushed past her in the bar on the night of the poker game. It was the man that Paulo said was El Leon. Mary looked around for Paulo, but she couldn’t see him anywhere. The farmers on the bench had gone as well. She tried looking for Isabella, but there was no sign of her. She couldn’t even see the greasy Señor Marcos, as he was on the other side of the square and there was a sea of people in between, a sea of unfamiliar faces.

“I asked you for a dance,” the man repeated. Mary noticed that several of his front teeth were made of gold.

“No thank you. I don’t want to dance.”

“You wanted to dance with Paulo.”