Miami Spice (16 page)

Rosina joined the decorators in the master bedroom
and shook her head again when she set her sights on the granite
fountain near the bathroom door. A cherubic boy with his hands on
his little peter actually peed into the base when the water and
recessed pink floodlights were turned on with a switch. Sacha had
discovered the piece at a South Beach garage sale and had intended
it for his apartment originally. Once he took off running with
Erica’s ideas, he knew the fountainhead would make a perfect
addition to the “boudoir of sinful pleasures.”

“Well, my dear, we’ve done good,” he
commented with a flutter of his hands. “I really should call the
design digest people and have them come over and take
pictures.”

“Pictures!” Erica proclaimed. “That’s exactly
what we need! Nobody will believe us otherwise. Sacha,
querido
, run up to my place and fetch my digital camera from
the closet.”

He gave her an exaggerated bow. “Your wish,
mi amore
, is my command!”

“I don’t know,” Rosie chortled. “I either
like it or I hate it, and I think
Se
ñ
or
Sloan
will feel the same. He won’t know what to say.”

Laughing along, Erica placed her arm around
the older woman’s shoulder as they walked back to the living room.
“He doesn’t have to say a thing. The place speaks for itself, a
true reflection of its owner. Sacha is going to introduce
Señor
Parrandero
to his new environs tomorrow. Of course, I plan to
be as far away as possible.”

A knock at the front door brought Erica and Rosie’s
heads to turn in that direction. A woman with a short up-sweep of
red hair stood in the threshold with a digital camera and notebook.
Her eyes widened when she noticed Sacha’s art piece on the rococo
side table in the foyer.

“Hello, there,” the woman ventured. “Is this
Mr. Giancarlo Sloan’s place?”

Erica rushed forward, aware she looked a
fright in a bandanna and overalls. “Um, yes, this is.”

Taking a few steps inside, the woman parted
the bead curtain. “I’m Molly Driscoll from
Miami Spaces
magazine. Mr. Sloan called us and suggested we might like to do a
story about his apartment makeover. He said his designer, Erica
Rael, should be recognized for her creativity.”

Did the room suddenly start spinning or was it merely
her head? Taking a large gulp, Erica accepted the woman’s extended
hand in greeting and asked Molly Driscoll to come and take a seat
on the red divan.

“I’m afraid you caught me in the middle of a
little joke,” she tried to explain after she introduced herself as
the “creator” of Mr. Sloan’s design project.

“Oh?” Walking around the living area, Molly
took in the details of Erica’s “little joke.” Setting her notebook
on the brass table, she took up her camera and smiled. “I think
this is wonderful! Who would have thought to do a space in carnal
kitsch? If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a few photos.”

“Actually, most of it was my idea,” Sacha
exclaimed as he returned through the beaded curtain. “I persuaded
Erica to try something different. This is not something she would
normally think about, because as a designer, she’s far more
creative and versatile and wouldn’t bat an eye about designing a
whole office building. In fact she has single-handedly decorated
the Domingo Building.”

Erica knew what her friend and colleague had
in mind. By taking the onus off of her and claiming the project,
Sacha hoped to deflect most of the fallout from his co-worker. Yet,
a disaster remained a disaster no matter who claimed
responsibility.

The reporter immediately gravitated to Sacha.
“Oh, well then perhaps you can share your thoughts about this
amazing project.”

His gaze, brimming with excitement, traveled
to Erica. “Okay, with you, darling? I’ve never been interviewed
before.”

Sighing, she leaned against a large Greek
statue of a naked warrior and felt the tip of the penis poke her in
the back. She gave him a wide smile. “Go for it, darling.”

Sliding a slender arm around the reporter’s
shoulder, Sacha led her back to the foyer. “Now, I’m particularly
fond of one of my own creations and what I lovingly call ‘Penis de
Milo.’“

Strolling down to the beach from La Masón del Mar,
Erica savored the cool trade winds and the crisp, pungent scent of
the ocean. At least this time her ritual appeared less strenuous
and certainly less elaborate than her truth ceremony with the fish
eyes, even though she had found out the truth without the use of
magical spells. Screwing her metal bucket in the sand, she added
the scarf and blush-pink teddy “Nico” had given her and then the
little packet of whatever Madrina Paola put together for her. Next,
she squirted a few lines of lighter fluid on top, lit a match,
threw it in, and watched the quick flames rise and consume it
all.

Erica had only to wait now until the mix
burned down to ashes before she continued with the next stage of
her love exorcism. Taking a seat, she drew up her knees, ringed
them with her arms, and wiggled her bare toes in the sand. As
before, she stared up to the night sky and made a wish when a rare
shooting star raced across the sky.

Please, oh please, save me from these horrible,
horrible feelings I have for that despicable, contemptible con
artist!

Just the thought of Gianni/Nico caused her abdomen to
tighten with those giddy butterflies, but at the same time made her
flesh crawl. How could she possibly harbor such conflicting
emotions for the guy? One minute, Erica loathed and despised the
self-proclaimed Lothario, and the next, she daydreamed about the
times she melted into his arms with total abandon. The touch of
those lips, the feel of those muscles, and the way he used that
cock of his with such expertise threw her into a tailspin every
time.

A quick gust of sea air made her shiver. By
now, Gianni Sloan should have toured his newly designed apartment,
and Erica had only to await the call from Sacha to receive the
details.

Despite Molly Driscoll’s love of such funky
foreplay decor, the reporter decided not to do a piece after all,
especially after Craig had called the editor of
Miami Spaces
and had the article shelved indefinitely. Instead, he suggested the
magazine try a story on Erica and Sacha’s latest design for the
city planner’s office suite. Erica expected Molly Driscoll back
next week to see her “real work,” a job she could be proud to see
splashed across the pages of a premier design digest. Dear, sweet
Sacha and her boss! She owed them both big time.

Erica had already blocked both numbers Gianni
used, the one as the investment broker and the other as the pseudo
artist. Artist! Giancarlo Sloan had no right to take in vain the
name of his brother, a true artist! Too bad she couldn’t work up
the same emotions for Adrian Sloan as she had for his sibling. Oh
well! It was probably better to stay away from that family once and
for all.

When her phone finally trilled, Erica jumped
and fumbled in her denim shorts pocket for her cell. Thankfully,
her colleague’s name appeared, and she eagerly answered his
summons.

“How did it go?” she asked in nearly a
whisper.

“Oooh, baby cakes!” Sacha cooed. “Your lover
boy chomped at the bit when he saw his new digs. Both his gorgeous
eyes and those pouty lips stayed open in amazement the whole time
we took the tour!”

Erica tried to keep her anxiety under wraps.
“And?”

“Ooh, he hated it as you can imagine.
Although, I did let him know you strongly felt your decor fit his
lifestyle to a tee.”

“He didn’t threaten to sue or anything like
that?”

“Actually, he never said more than a few
words. He did ask where you were, but I held tight and kept mum on
your whereabouts, love. He could have slipped bamboo shoots under
my nails, but I wouldn’t talk! Of course, I might have found his
torture quite arousing and erotic.”

Erica breathed easier. “Calm down, darling!
He’s not worth the effort, believe me! But thanks, Sacha, for all
your help. I owe you a drink at the Screaming Parrot.”

“Darling, as soon as you reappear. By the
way, when are you coming back?”

“Maybe in a few days. I want the fervor to
die down first. Of course, if Mr. Sloan goes to Craig, I’m going to
have to deal with my client’s displeasure one way or the other. Our
boss will only cover my
nalgas
so far.”

“And you have such a cute
nalga
, too,”
Sacha quipped. “Well, darling Rica, good luck.”

“I’ll call you before I leave just to make sure it’s
safe to come back, even if I have to wave the white flag and beg
for my job.” Erica meant it as a joke but now she wasn’t so sure.
If Gianni Sloan came gunning for her, she might as well start
looking for another job. The thought of opening her own design firm
crossed her mind from time to time. She already had the name,
Elegante Interiors. Erica could probably persuade Sacha to join her
as a co-partner. And even though Craig might see it as flaunting
her disloyalty in his face, she knew there would be enough new kids
on the block just waiting to take her place and flex their creative
muscles.

Giving her friend a quick goodbye smack of her lips,
she disconnected and went back to the task at hand. By now, the
fire had done its job and all that remained were the blackened
ashes of her duplicitous lover’s efforts to win her over. Erica
took up the waste basket and ventured once more to the sea. Again,
she paced off twelve steps before she dug her toes along the sandy
bottom.

“I hereby cast you out of my heart!” she
announced to Calypso Bay, the wind and the waves. “Out you go,
Giancarlo Sloan, and out you will remain, never to darken my life
again! From here on in, I am free of any and all of the love I once
allowed to consume me!”

Reaching for a little handful of ashes, Erica
cast them across the water in one direction, and then continued to
do the same with the others, north, east, south, west.
I am free
of any love I once had!
She made sure to recite the incantation
three more times before allowing the metal can to drift away.

Erica made it back to the shore with a little
shiver, both from the cold and the finality of her act. According
to the Madrina, the spell would take about a day to act, and
therefore she had been instructed to keep her mind “pure” and not
retreat to those bittersweet memories of her ex-lover. She thought
for sure she could do just that, and do so with ease. Yet, Erica
found herself drifting back to those lovely, lazy days when she and
“Nico” had been here, entwined together on the hammock beneath the
palmetto trees, molded together in the big gauzy bed, and meshed
together in the garden hot tub…
Stop! ¡Alto!
Now she had to
wipe her mental slate clean before such snatches of bliss not only
resurfaced but rekindled her feelings for the man she thought she
knew…and loved.

A dark form made its way toward the beach, and from
his height and build, Erica assumed it had to be co-owner of La
Masón, David Hughes, a tall, muscular man and husband to Patsy
Cargill.

“Hello there, Dave!” She waved as she started back to
the house. “Out for an evening stroll?” When he didn’t answer right
away, she paused.

“
Hola,
Eriqueta
,” he said at
last and continued to come forward.

Erica held her breath with apprehension, and then
tensed when she finally recognized Giancarlo Sloan. How in hell had
he found her?

As if he read her thoughts, Gianni continued.
“I had a gut feeling you wouldn’t stick around after finishing your
wonderful redecorating job. I thought of where you might go, and I
played a hunch that you might come back here. You see, I couldn’t
let you go without thanking you properly for your efforts.”

“Oh, please! You don’t have to thank me for
anything!” Uncertain of his intentions, she started to back track,
although she couldn’t tell if he appeared indignant or even angry.
“I suppose now you want to lodge a complaint about my lack of
professional integrity and for the complete mess I made of your
apartment.”

“Who says I want to complain?” Chuckling, Gianni
paused with legs apart. A partial moon illuminated the beach just
enough so that Erica made out his features and the fact he wore a
light cotton shirt, the lapels open wide to expose his strong, hard
chest and the silver chain around his neck. Beneath the shirt
tails, he sported khaki pants and leather sandals.

To her amazement, his smile actually seemed
coated in bemusement. “You know in the end, I had to admit that you
got my lifestyle and my tastes down just right. Where did you find
that quaint fountain?”

“A...a curio shop of sorts,” she said,
flustered.
Damn him!

Without the spell in full play, Erica would
have to fend him off with all her wits and courage.
Fight it,
girl, fight it!
When she first recognized her adversary, she
felt a mass gathering of those damned emotional butterflies as they
prepared to take flight. Now, the feelings she so desperately
wanted to banish forever only grew deeper and stronger as she
continued to look into those dusky and provocative eyes of his.

Warily, they stood within inches of each
other until Gianni easily scooped her up in his arms before Erica
could turn tail and run.

“Hey! What are you doing?” she yelled and
flared her legs.

“Taking you some place where we can be
alone.” Hoisting her over his shoulder, he also tightened his grip
so that she couldn’t break away. He began to walk towards the
B&B. “We need to talk, my dear.”

“It’s...too...late!” she choked. “I have nothing to
say to you anymore! You’re a despicable, conniving jerk!”

“Oh, you’re being too modest with your
praises. Why not add revolting, disgusting and evil to the mix? I
deserve your full repertoire.” Despite the powder-fine sand, Gianni
carried her with an easy gait.