Nacho Figueras Presents (23 page)

A
round three in the morning, Georgia was awoken by an insistent tapping sound. She pulled herself out of bed and found Alejandro at the door. For a split second, she thought it was the fulfillment of her every fantasy, but she soon saw from his look of worry and apology that it was definitely not.

“Sugar, she's in labor—”

“Give me one minute,” Georgia said, and shut the door on him. She pulled her scrubs on first back to front, then rightways, tied back her hair, swished toothpaste over her teeth, and ran to join him.

They walked to the barn in silence. It was oddly intimate, having the starry night to themselves, but the silence was excruciating. Georgia's inner wheels were spinning as she tried to find an entry to conversation that might cover the lost hopes and drama of the last two days.

She picked a head of jasmine and spun it between her fingers, trying to come up with something to say. “Does Sugar seem to be having any trouble?” she finally asked.

He shook his head. “Not that I can see.”

The barn was peaceful with the snuffles of sleeping animals and the steady clop of Sugar walking in circles.

Hearing their arrival, Temper stuck his head out of his stall and gave a loud huff of breath to show he was very much awake and aware things were astir with his girlfriend. Alejandro gave him a scratch to settle him down.

They both stood back a little from the foaling stall, careful not to invade the mare's privacy and risk slowing down the labor. Alejandro gestured that Georgia should take the first look.

She watched the mare turn a circle, squat down and stand again, all the while refusing, for the first time since she'd arrived, to acknowledge Georgia's presence in any way.

“Looks good.” She smiled, pulling back.

“We can wait it out in the tack room. Be close in case we're needed.”

Georgia looked at him in surprise. “You don't have to stay. I can always call if anything goes wrong.”

“I'll stay, if you don't mind,” said Alejandro, as constrained as she'd ever heard him.

The tack room was comfortably warm, but there was only one place to sit—a rather small leather couch. They eyed it warily. Alejandro gestured toward it. “Please,” he said. “I'd prefer to stand.”

Georgia sat down. For the first time, she saw his face in the bright light. She gasped. “Oh, I didn't realize. Are you all right?”

Alejandro dismissively touched the bruise on his cheek. “Yes, I'm afraid the old man got the better of me.”

“Hardly,” she said.

They smiled at each other for a moment and then looked away in unison.

“Anyway, thank you,” Georgia said softly as she turned to pour some coffee. “I didn't say that before, I don't think. Thank you for stepping in. I don't know that he was going to do anything so very terrible, but he was drunk and things were getting ugly.”

Alejandro shook his head as she handed him a cup. “
De nada
.”

There was a long pause as they both took a scalding sip.

“What will happen to him, do you think?” Georgia frowned. “His career won't be over?”

Alejandro shrugged. “No, don't worry. He'll do fine back in Argentina. He can build a franchise on the back of his experience here. Despite what you've seen, he's not a bad vet. And his family back home keeps the drinking in check.”

“That's good,” she said.

“He was miserable in Wellington. Even when my father was alive, there was trouble. Sometimes I think Gustavo knew things, held things over my father's head.”

“But what could he possibly have—” Georgia stopped herself, thinking of Noni.

Alejandro nodded. “
Sí
, Antonia. I'm sure you have heard her story by now. And of course, I didn't know I had a sister. That was a surprise. A good surprise as it turned out. Noni is my rock. But there were so many other women, too. Who knows what else my father was hiding?” He shrugged. “In any case, it's better that Gustavo find his own way now. He'll land on his feet. He always does.”

Georgia thought of her own father, steadfast to a fault.

“Was that very hard,” asked Georgia, “all that with your dad?”

Alejandro paused for a moment. “It just was what it was,
entiendes
? He had many wonderful qualities. He taught me to play, and of course I loved him. He was
mi papá
. But he was not an easy man, and I hated what he did to my mother, to our family. And I swore that it would never happen in my own marriage.”

He was quiet for a moment and then raked his hand through his hair and took a step toward the door. “You know what? I'm going to check on Sugar.”

And the door shut behind him before she could answer.

Alejandro knew he'd been abrupt. But the conversation was getting too intimate, and Georgia looked so beautiful, sitting there, her face was so trusting and understanding, her smile so warm…

She has a man
, he sharply reminded himself.

He peeked into Sugar's stall. She was repeatedly lying down and then standing up again. A good sign that things were progressing. Temper was still wide awake but seemed a bit less agitated, as if he, too, sensed that things were going the way they should.

Not wanting to disturb the mare, but unwilling to go back to the tack room just yet, Alejandro walked out into the courtyard. It was a dark night, no moon at all, and wonderfully balmy, but Alejandro shivered anyway, wanting and yet not wanting to go back into the barn.

“How is she?” came Georgia's voice, and she stepped out of the barn and joined him outside. “Everything all right?”

“She's starting the next stage. Up and down, up and down,” he said.

She nodded. “Good. It shouldn't be too long then.”

They stood silently for a few moments. Listening to the night birds and the buzz of insects. Alejandro was achingly aware of her beside him. He thought he could catch a breath of the botanical scent he had inhaled so deeply when they were dancing together—like lemons and almond and sweet grass. He blinked, realizing that, in a way, she smelled like home to him.

“I was never exactly unfaithful to Olivia,” he said. “But there was something—with Cricket, actually—it was too soon, but after Olivia was already gone in most ways…once we knew she wouldn't be coming back. And I regret that.”

Georgia reached out and touched his arm. “I'm sure no one could fault you for that. I'm sure Olivia would have understood.”

He shrugged, excruciatingly aware of her fingers on his wrist. “In any case, we were very young when we got married. She was still a teenager, in fact. And we had both been groomed for it, you could say. Her father and my father were good friends. They introduced us and made it very plain what they wanted. And honestly, I couldn't see why not. She was lovely and sweet, and very accomplished, and maybe, you know, a bit rigid—but that was not a reason to say no. And I think, I think she cared for me. So, we did what our families wanted.”

Georgia drew her hand away from him. “You loved each other?”

Alejandro nodded. “
Sí
, of course I loved her. I mean, she was the mother of my child, and she was a brilliant homemaker and partner to me, but…”

He shifted uneasily.

“I didn't love her enough. She wasn't happy when she died. She'd been spending more and more time at the ring. There was a flirtation with her trainer. Emotional infidelity. I think immersing herself in the sport was a way to break with me. I don't honestly know that we'd have made it if she lived.” He closed his eyes and sighed with the relief of admitting it.

“That has to complicate your grief,” Georgia said softly. “I'm so sorry.”

He turned and looked at her. “I didn't think I was capable of loving anyone, you know? I mean, not the kind of love she wanted—that all-consuming passion,
la gran pasión
. I just thought, it wasn't how I was built. But now…”

A shadow crossed Georgia's face, and she looked away. “I think,” she said hurriedly, “I think we should check on Sugar.”

He flinched. And then nodded. “
Sí
, of course.”

As they walked back into the barn, he inwardly castigated himself. There, she had done it again—just like when they had danced—she had shut things down just before he'd made a fool of himself. He should be grateful for her sense of decency, for wanting to protect him from his worst impulses.

Sugar was on her side now, breathing heavily. “Ah,” whispered Georgia, grabbing his arm, “look!”

The tiny hooves, pointing down toward the floor, had just started to emerge. Alejandro smiled. No matter how many times he saw this—and he had seen dozens of foalings—this never became any less amazing.

The little nose came next, followed by the whole head, and then the shoulders and half the body, slick and wet. Sugar rested for a moment, her baby half in and half out, and then her sides heaved once more and the whole foal slid out and sprawled upon the hay, a tiny miniature of its sire.

Georgia laughed softly and squeezed Alejandro's arm.

“A bay,” he said. “A bay. Just like Temper, after all.”

Sugar turned her head and calmly sniffed at the little thing and then suddenly struggled to her feet and proceeded to lick it from head to tail with her long, pink tongue. Within moments, the foal was on its own gangly and unsteady legs and nosing at its mother's side, locating her milk.

Sugar turned and stared at them, a disapproving glare.

Georgia chuckled. “Let's go back to the tack room,” she said. “Obviously, she wants some privacy.”

He nodded, suddenly aware she still stood close enough that they were shoulder to shoulder, and her hand was still on his arm.

Georgia seemed to realize this, too, because she dropped her hand and stepped away.

They sat together on the couch this time, almost touching, brought closer by the beauty of what they had just witnessed.

“It's amazing,” said Georgia, “isn't it?”

He nodded. “I will never tire of seeing that.”

Georgia reached her arms up, stretching her back. He tried not to notice the way her breasts strained against the thin layer of her shirt.

“Usually it's over before I even get there,” she said, “unless something's gone wrong. It was a treat to see it from start to finish. The first time I saw one was with my friend Sam, when we were young—on his father's farm. That's when I knew I wanted to be a vet.”

Alejandro stiffened at the name. “Sam?” he said. “Your visitor?”

Georgia glanced at him. “Your mother mentioned it?”

He nodded, trying to look nonchalant.

“Yes, that was him. We're old friends. Well, high school sweethearts, really. He came last night to see…if we could maybe start things up again.”

Alejandro looked away, aching over how he had so narrowly missed his chance.

“But, you know, sometimes something just doesn't feel right, no matter how much you wish it could. And—”

He crushed her to him, wrapping his hands in her hair and pulling her mouth to his before she could finish, unwilling to miss his chance again. She instantly responded, closing her eyes, kissing him back with a ferocious need that overtook them both.

Suddenly she pulled back, looking up into his face.

“What about Cricket?” she whispered.

He impatiently shook his head. “No, it was just that once. There's nothing between us.
Nada.
” And he greedily pulled her toward him again.

He felt almost frantic after holding himself back for so long, to finally have his hands on her again, his mouth on hers. His fingers tangling through her hair, slipping down her neck, over her shoulders.

She gasped as he grazed her breasts, and he felt her nipples spring up under his palms. He was so hard, he needed her so much…The smell of her, the silk of her skin, he wanted to fall into forever right there.

Georgia slid back and pulled her shirt up over her head, boldly presenting herself to him, meeting his eyes with a challenge. He felt dizzy with lust, as if he might burn to the bone if he didn't take her.

She was so beautiful with her flushed skin and liquid gaze, there was nothing more in the world that he wanted than to pin her down and consume her, body and soul. And yet he knew that if he gave in here, it would be rushed and overheated and frenzied. The tack room was hardly the place, with a sleepy groom likely to stumble in at any moment…

He looked at her tumbled, sun-touched curls, her mouth, swollen and pink with his kisses. No, what he really wanted was to take his time, pour slowly over her, savoring the aching bliss of finally having her back under his hands. With agony, he pulled himself away.

“Not here,
mi amor
,” he said hoarsely.

She looked at him and then smiled. “I know a place,” she said.

G
eorgia crept up the ladder with Alejandro at her heels. She pulled herself into the loft, and he rose up behind her and took her back into his arms. The hay loft was lit with pale moonlight; the air smelled heavy and sweet. Alejandro held her close, and she felt tiny shocks of energy pass between them, like fizzing bubbles making tiny explosions snapping against their skin. She gasped, delighted, and tilted back her head for a kiss.

He pressed his lips to hers with a low groan, pulling her closer, so that she could feel the length of him. His hands on her felt so good. His full, firm lips on hers, the heat and height of him. She thrilled all over again at having to reach up to rake her fingers into his soft, thick hair.

He kissed her jaw, her earlobe, the length of her neck, and as he started to pull up her shirt, she almost laughed to think what Billy would say—all those beautiful clothes and now, when it came down to it, she was wearing her scrubs.

“Georgia,” he whispered as he ran his hands down her back and then unhooked her bra and dropped it to the ground. “Ah,
mi paraiso
.”

She tugged off his shirt, desperate to feel his skin on hers.

She felt as if their cells were melting together, his mouth tasting hers, the incredible strength of his arms wrapped around her, the soft rasp of his chest hair dragging deliciously against her bare breasts, his hands skimming over her body as he slid down her pants and briefs.

She responded in kind, unbuttoning his jeans, and his velvet hardness sprang out between them. She held herself against him for a moment, feeling him throb against her, loving the way the entirety of her body fit just within his. His hands cupped her rear, and his fingers reached into the depths between her legs. She gasped and he groaned, sliding his hands over her, holding her breasts, and greedily taking first one nipple then the other into his mouth. She knelt to take him between her lips, hands on his high, tight rear, as he leaned against the wall of hay bales behind them. He allowed her only a few long, deep draughts before he eased her up and turned her so that she was still facing him, but was cushioned against the hay.

He pinned her arms with gentle strength above her head and held them there. He dipped to kiss her mouth and nibbled the length of her neck, circling her nipples with his tongue. Georgia's back arched but he held her arms in place with his left hand, running his right hand over her belly, her thighs, just brushing the hair between her legs. The shivers triggered by his kisses released an unbelievable feeling of readiness. He let go of her arms and knelt before her. Putting his face between her legs, he teased her, slowly touching his tongue to her most sensitive spot, and then, in response to her urgent whisper, buried his face in her until she shook and cried with wave after wave of pleasure.

Finally, after she was spent, he stood and put a soft, clean horse blanket on the ground, and they lay face-to-face, and he let her stroke and kiss all of him. Kneeling astride him, raining kisses up and over his ribs, Georgia wanted to settle the whole of him into memory, imprint the smell of his skin. He rolled her over, pressing the weight of his body against hers, and then pulled back again, leaving her breathless.

She felt her desire surge again as he toyed with her, running his hands over her skin, murmuring over the beauty of her body in both English and Spanish, telling her that he never knew it could be this way, that he was, at last, where he was born to be.

And then finally, when she could stand it no more, she pushed him back and gasped, “Did Sebastian—” And he knew exactly what she wanted and, laughing, stood up and walked over to the windowsill, where he had found the cards on that long-ago day, and next to the cards—yes, a stash of condoms.

He lay back down next to her, and she threw her leg over him, carefully unrolling the condom he offered and placing it on the straining stiffness of his cock. Then she braced her hands against his shoulders and dragged the length of him against her, finally finding purchase and plunging down until she could feel nothing but him filling every millimeter of her body.

“
Mi amor
,” he whispered, and held her still for a moment as she looked into his eyes, which had gone black with a desire so blunt and powerful that she could only give in with a wordless moan as he arched up against her and pushed back into her, again and again, slowly fingering her as they rocked together, going deeper and deeper until she felt herself dissolving against him just as he exploded into her, a thousand fragments of light and energy rocketing between them both, leaving them laughing and marveling it could feel this way.

They walked back to the pool house after, and Alejandro slept in her bed that night. In her arms. A sleep as deep and sweet as any he could remember.

Alejandro awoke as the sun rose the next morning and looked over at her, asleep in the rosy morning light. She looked so vulnerable with her mussed curls across the pillow, her pink lips just barely parted. He wanted to trace the soft shadow of her eyelids, touch the coral flush across her cheeks, kiss his way down her long, white neck.

She stirred and made a little sound, moving closer to his warmth. He gathered her into his arms, and when her clear hazel eyes opened and looked into his, the sweetest, dreamiest, just slightly wicked smile drifted across her face.

“Hello,” she said softly. “Good morning.”

He smiled back at her, running his hand across her hairline and down her cheek, and then he leaned down and kissed her welcoming lips.

He had never felt this way before. Equally inflamed and tender. He felt that no matter how close he was to her, it would never be close enough. He felt he wanted to know everything about her—and not just her beautiful body—but her memories, her opinions, her weaknesses and strengths. He felt—no, he
knew
—that he would never get enough of this woman.

“
Sos la razon de mi existir
.
You are the reason for my existence.
Te amo
, Georgia,” he said to her.

She gazed up at him, a look of absolute adoration in her eyes. “I love you, too,” she whispered back.

Her words fell upon him like soothing rain upon his soul. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he was filled with the most ecstatic desire as he pulled her to him, and pressed himself against her. She arched against him, and he touched her, searching out the silky wetness between her legs. She was ready for him.

She shuddered under his touch. “Please,” she said.

All self-restraint vanished as he parted her legs with his thigh and pushed up into her. She was so sweet, so tight, so hot. He pulled back and then plunged in harder as she wrapped her legs around his back and took all of him in. He took her again and again, and as he rode her embrace, he had the distinct sensation of falling—of losing all sense of himself—of not knowing how to be if not together with her. She whispered his name, shivering under him, and then calling out louder, crying his name again and again as she writhed and jerked her hips, and finally he joined her in an explosively sweet release, calling out, “
Mi cielo, mi amor
,” as he felt her constrict around him over and over, as she sobbed out her bliss. At last she relaxed under him and unwound her legs, and he shuddered with one last aftershock of pleasure before burying his face into her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, smelling the sweetness of her, and feeling more whole than he had in years.

They lay entwined together, breathing in tandem, their skin cooling in the sweet morning air. He wanted to tell her a thousand different things, he wanted to make a million plans, but he also wanted to be doing exactly what they were already doing—just holding each other, feeling their hearts beat as one.

“It's getting late,” Georgia finally whispered. “And we are in a
pecera
.”

Alejandro laughed and looked at her. “Fishbowl? I didn't know your Spanish was so extensive.”

She grinned at him. “It's not. Your mother taught me that one.”

At the mention of his mother, he groaned. “I should probably get back before they wake up.”

She nodded and rolled away from him, but then he pulled her back before she could go too far and kissed her again—soft and deep. He felt himself stir again.

She laughed and pushed him away. “We can't. I mean, I would love to, but we really can't.”

He sighed and let her go. “I know.”

Heading back to the house, Alejandro couldn't stop grinning. He'd slept, properly slept, for the first time in years, and that was all because of her. With her, he'd come to rest. He thought of the first time he'd seen her, with her face all but bare of makeup, the premonition he'd had of what it would be like to wake up next to her. He could add to that now, the memory of her damp, tangled hair, flushed cheeks, and the rosy aureoles of her nipples, the dip to her waist and abrupt curve of her hips, the sharp hipbones, heart-shaped ass, and those soft, strong thighs. It was all he could do not to get back in there and start things up all over again…