Red Hot Christmas (29 page)

Panting, she squared her shoulders and shoved him away with her hand. He frowned, tilting his head with his lips thinned in frustration. Lips…she resisted the urge to touch her own, to see if they were tender and swollen after their wicked encounter.
 

“I have to go to sleep, Alejandro. It’s late.”
 

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, the sweet plea flickering in his eyes.
 

Fear was underrated. Right this minute, she was clinging to every ounce of it to prevent her from acting like a horny teenager
.
Giving in to the insane craving for Alejandro would complicate everything. “I’m sorry, Alejandro. I don’t think I’m ready for more.”
 

“It’s okay.” He watched her in silence, the spark of desire vanishing from his eyes. With a blank expression, he quirked his lips to one side and said, “Good night, Sydney.”
 

Without looking back, she forced her legs to dash to her bedroom.
 

Good night? No chance of that.
 

Chapter 5

Sydney sipped her black coffee, her fingers tapping on the small china cup. The liquid was strong, hot, and had a much better taste than the crap she drank in the US.
Enjoy it. Once everything is sorted, you will go back to your crummy life. And crummy coffee.
 

Oh how she missed her crummy life. Her job. Glancing around the breakfast table, filled with fruits and pastries, she bit her lip. She would only go back to her life, when they had a clue about the dude who’d attacked her. And how Patty died.
 

Hmmm…She was pretty sure Patty wouldn’t just drop dead from a heart attack. Besides, it was too much of a coincidence. Patty promised her she would tell the police the next day, about the message Frank had told her. Then, that same night, she dies. God. If she didn’t hate the police that much, and hadn’t asked for her friend’s help—maybe, just maybe, Patty would still be alive. Cold sweat beaded her upper lip, but Sydney wiped it with the embroidered linen napkin. No. She didn’t have time for guilt, or regret.
 

She tossed back some more coffee, hoping it would shoot some adrenaline in her system. Adrenaline. With shaky fingers, she sat the cup on the pristine tablecloth. That was it. What if the killer had injected some kind of substance in Patty’s system to fake a heart attack? A large dose of potassium? No, that would take too long.
 

“Buenos dias,”
Alejandro said, pulling a chair next to hers.
 

Her pulse jolted. She had been so wrapped up in her theory she hadn’t noticed him walking up to the table.
Better that way.
When he was close, it was hard enough to focus on anything…but him, and his underwear-melting smile.
 

He grabbed a piece of brioche and slathered it with butter. “What’s on your mind?”
 

“Cyanide,” she said, the name of the powerful chemical compound striking her like thunder. “Of course. It’s fast acting, and the symptoms would be similar to a heart attack,” she said more to herself than to him.

He frowned. “Care to elaborate on that one?”

“Alejandro, we need to ask Joe if they performed an autopsy on Patty. I’m thinking they could have injected a dose of cyanide in her, which would make it impossible for her to breathe, and kill her in a matter of minutes,” she said, her voice wavering at the end.
 

Alejandro pulled his cell from his pocket. “I’m on it.”
 

“On what, my darling?” his mother asked, joining them in the dining area.

It was early morning, but the woman’s face already looked flawless, with a layer of makeup just a notch lighter than what she had on the previous night. A blue ensemble of pencil skirt and flowing silky blouse, adorned by a baroque brooch, completed her look.
 

“Nothing you should worry about,
Madre
,” Alejandro said, and poured himself some orange juice.
 

Constanza thinned her lips, in an expression of someone who was trying hard to sketch a smile. “Well, then. Where are you kids off to today?”
 

“I have work to do,” Alejandro said.
 

“
Mi hijo
, can’t you procrastinate just this once? You should take Sydney and show her around. Isn’t that why you brought her? To enjoy the city?” she said, and Sydney wondered if she traced a bit of challenge in his mother’s voice.
 

Alejandro cleared his throat. “Of course. I can spare a few hours.”
 

“Good.” Constanza winked at Sydney. “If you excuse me, I have to call my stylist. Tonight’s the fund raiser, and I’m not sure yet about the shoes,” she said, and sauntered out of sight.
 

“What now?” Sydney asked.
 

Alejandro faced her, and she almost pushed back her chair. It was hard sitting next to him, catching a whiff of his tantalizing scent of peppermint aftershave and clean soap. He had showered; no doubt. “We play along. Look, I’ll call Joe.”
 

“I’d like to speak with him, too,” she said.
 

“Great. Let’s go to my office, we’ll do a web conference.”
 

      The two of them headed to the home office. He made a gesture for her to enter first, and as she heard the click behind them, she realized he was closing the door for privacy. Her stomach began to churn, but this time it was for a different reason than the panic she experienced at the hospital. It was no longer the fear of being confined that surged through her. It was the raw realization that they were alone, locked in, without the safety of a common area such as the dining table.
 

Last night…she had been alone with him, and dang it, she had enjoyed it. The kiss they shared flashed through her mind, and she folded her arms over her hardening, fast responsive nipples. She watched him turn on the computer with a click and text Joe a message.
 

Within a few minutes, Joe, the forty something detective, appeared on the sleek computer screen. She expected him to be older, somehow, not the dark blond-haired man with not enough gray in his groomed beard.
 

“Joe, I need to know if they did an autopsy on Patty. There’s a possibility she was poisoned, perhaps from cyanide, it’s a very powerful chemical.”

“I already looked into it. No autopsy was done,” he said, his voice flat. “She was sixty-years old. An attendant at the hospital tried to save her but it was too late. They ruled it as heart attack.”

“Seriously?”

He shrugged. “Autopsies are not mandatory unless there’s a suspicion of foul play. Plus, it’s the holiday season. Everyone is busy and overworked.”
 

“Can we get one now?”
 

“We need her husband’s authorization. That means he’d have to know of our hunch. Can you trust him?”
 

“I…I met him a couple times. I can try to call him and explain,” she said, her voice trailing off. Shit. She tossed a glance over to Alejandro, and his own eyes flickered with what had to be frustration. Telling Jacob about her theory would put them all in jeopardy. But if an autopsy could set them straight, what did she have to lose?
 

“Are you sure about this?” Alejandro asked after they finished the video call.
 

“Yeah.”
 

***

Alejandro’s gaze soaked in her profile. They walked side by side, after a vigorous city tour of Casa Rosada and La Boca. She had spared a few words when admiring the vibrant colors of la Boca, but that had been it. Ever since the kiss the night before, he’d been trying his best to leash his longing for her.
 

His mother had insisted he show her the sights, and although they had to fight the crowd of European tourists and the Christmas shoppers, that had been the right thing to do. She had tried to contact Jacob, but a family member said he was too upset to take calls. Sydney had decided to give it another day. Staying home and waiting for more news from Joe would raise suspicion. He knew his mother well enough to want to prevent her from over-worrying about a possible threat.
 

When they arrived at
Cementerio de la Recoleta
, she glanced around the crowd taking pictures. “This is—”

“A Cemetery. It’s one of the most beautiful cemeteries in the world.” He stretched his hand out for her, but instead of taking it in hers, she drew back with an uncomfortable shrug. Why the hell was she acting like that? Last night, he’d burned for her. He’d longed to take off her clothes and screw her in the middle of the living room. And now, that skeptical expression took over her face. “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
 

He dove his fingers into his hair, and cleared his throat. What was wrong with him? She had just lost a friend. “This is a famous tourist attraction, when I thought about killing time until we hear back from Joe—”

“It’s okay.” She dismissed him with a shrug. “What’s interesting here?”

 
“Eva Peron’s grave is ahead.”
 

Going against his custom to let the woman walk in front, he strode in the direction of the grave. Staring at the sway of her hips was a liability at this point. Besides, he wouldn’t take the risk of nudging her elbow or sliding his hand over the small of her back. His libido stirred in him, and he quickened his pace.
Calmate.
 

“Hey, Carl Lewis. If we’re racing to burn the calories from breakfast, you could have let me know. I would have put on tennis shoes.”
 

He looked over his shoulder and fought a smile, then pointed at her black boots. “Your feet will get very hot inside those. Why didn’t you pick something more practical?”
 

“It was winter in Chicago and I didn’t have time to go through my summer clothes given the circumstances,” she said.
 

“I can arrange for new clothes for you.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
 

“Are you sure? I can throw in some shoes. I’d love to see your toenails out and about.” His gaze fell to her parted lips, and she slightly slumped her shoulders. When he stared at her again, she was quickening her pace, even though it took him one good stride to keep up with her efforts. Miss Attitude was fighting the attraction too, wasn’t she? Good to know. Or was it?
 

“And I want to see this Eva Peron person you keep raving about.”
 

 
“You never heard of Eva?”
 

“Cool it, Mr. Rosetta Stone. Of course I have.” She winked, and a strange sensation brewed in his stomach, traveling up his chest. Every time she gave him a snarky retort, he imagined all the wicked ways he would like to respond—like kissing her senseless, and intertwining his fingers in hers during a long session of love making.
 

She contemplated the family tomb with Eva’s life-size statue, and squinted against the sun. The ensemble of blue shirt and Bermuda shorts was a tad informal and out of place to his mother’s standards. In the crowd, dressed casually, she was just one of them. He took a couple of steps back, and glanced over his shoulder to ensure that the bodyguards followed them at a safe distance.
 

Rays of sun glowed on her hair, turning it almost orange in the broad daylight. He lowered his sunglasses, and a tremble went through him at the sight of her lips, breaking into another smile.
 

“Lovely.” She pointed at the tomb.
 

“So are you.” He angled toward her, and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. Her eyes followed the movement of his fingers, but this time she didn’t flinch, or move away. No. She stayed grounded, and upped her brow in acquiescence.
 

He outlined her jaw, and an inexplicable strand of pleasure bolted through him. With her, the smallest caress was the gateway drug to a blazing desire. The chatter around them shifted into white noise, and he zoomed in on her. She stepped back, not scared but inviting him, and he strode forward until she reached a big walled tomb. With a groan, he pushed her against the wall, the coolness of the marble contrasting against the heat oozing from her.
 

She chuckled, and a shade of pink spread across her cheeks.
 

Why was it? Why did he feel compelled to have her at any cost? He was Alejandro Soto. Women flocked to him, pleased him, and admired him. And he…admired them back. Screwed them. Made sure he kept them at a distance; he’d thought Carla, being so like him at first, would be a great lifetime companion. Nonetheless she had proved him wrong, and that had made him question the validity of the institution. If someone who came from his world didn’t appeal to him after a while, how about someone completely different? How would they ever work?
 

And Sydney…she intrigued him. Deep down though, she deserved better than him. Emotionally, what could he bring to the table? And why couldn’t all the common sense in the world stop him from doing what he was about to do?

He lowered his lips to hers and snatched her into his arms, and all doubts dissipated in front of him. Their tongues clashed, and he ran his fingers in her hair, pulling her head close to him, wishing they were alone.
Desnuda…