Red Hot Christmas (30 page)

“You’re so sexy,” he whispered into her ear, licking her earlobe and feeling her shudder against him. “I don’t want to stop.” He voiced his thoughts, and mentally cursed himself a second later.
 

She put her hand on his chest and created a gap between them. “And get us thrown out from one of the most beautiful cemeteries in the world?” Her heavy breathing betrayed the playfulness in her voice. She was affected too, and despite him wanting to kick himself for being too blunt, hope brewed inside him. The previous night, she had been scared even. Was she starting to come to terms with their undeniable attraction? She had told him she wasn’t ready and he respected her decision. Rushing her into something she didn’t want wasn’t his style. How could she deny him, though, when her eyes shimmered and sent him the message she had yet to acknowledge?

“It will be worth it.”
 

“You’re very convincing.” She bit her lower swollen lip, as if musing over the possibilities. “But my wayward ways are behind me.”
 

He ran a finger down her nose. “Pity.”
 

A powerful flash made him jerk back and close his eyes. When he opened them again, more flashes. Four, no, five paparazzi circled them, and there was a growing audience of people behind them, no doubt curious.
 

“Mr. Soto. Is this your new girlfriend?” asked one of them in Spanish.

“What is her name?” asked another, snatching a picture of her.
 

A scorching frustration washed over him, and a different kind of heat slid in his veins. Wasn’t he old news by now? He pulled her into his embrace and murmured, “Don’t say anything, and don’t look at the cameras. Don’t give them a shot.”
 

Compliant, she strode alongside him, staring down. The journey to the exit proved difficult, as the cemetery was like a maze of small houses where entire families were buried. He kept ignoring the questions all the way until the exit, when only two of them followed them.
 

A flash. “Mr. Soto. Just a word, please. Does she know about Carla?”
 

“Does Carla now about her?”
 

Next to him, she stiffened, her discomfort palpable. “What is going on? What are they saying?” she asked.
 

 
“Is she American? Does she know about the assault charges?” one of them asked in English.

“What charges?” Sydney stopped walking and turned to him. A pang of fear crossed her face, and he wished he could punch the paparazzo right there and then.
 

“Is this a bump on her forehead?” a pap asked, shortening the gap between him and Sydney.

“Get away,” he growled at the man, who continued to take a shot of her expression. “Give this to me.” He yanked the camera from the man, then shoved the pap aside just enough to retrieve the memory card. Sure, Alejandro was going against his own rule to ignore the bastards, but he couldn’t expose Sydney. She wasn’t used to the limelight. What if they had a slow news day and wanted to discover who his new girl was? Her life would be exposed on a stupid tabloid, and he wouldn’t allow it.
 

Besides, the last thing he needed was attention drawn to him, what with trying to figure out who had attacked her and what Frank’s message meant in the first place.
 

The paparazzo lost his balance and fell on the ground. “You assaulted me. You damaged my camera!” he screamed, rubbing a hand over his scratched elbow. The other photographers took shots of his acting, of course, and a few pedestrians started to gather around them; they exchanged glances and whispered to one another. How was that for laying low?
 

“Send me the bill,
idiota,”
Alejandro said between his teeth. The veins on his temples about to pop.
 

The limo pulled up to the curb, and Sydney hesitated to get in. The paparazzi spoke loudly, and he rushed her inside. “Get in. It’ll only get worse.”

He pushed the button to lift the privacy window. As soon as the driver disappeared from sight, he breathed and peered at her. She sat across from him; legs clenched together and shoulders tight. She was turned to the window, but he doubted she paid any attention to the view.

“Tell me about the assault charges,” she said at last, her voice firm, and cast him a glance.
 

He cracked his knuckles. He hadn’t planned on explaining about the botched scandal Carla plotted against him under pressure. Talking about it was new to him. Truth was, the few real friends he had didn’t need clarification, and the media rejoiced in fabricating lies. But she just sat there, with her gaze on his. There was a trace of apprehension in her face that hinted either way she wouldn’t like what she was about to hear.
 

“I was engaged to a woman named Carla.” He sighed. “We moved in together, and she started to go nuts on me.”

She folded her arms. “How nuts?”

“She became someone else. She tried to control me, acting super jealous when I never gave her any reason to. Then, she moved on to keeping tabs on me, hiring a detective to follow me around. After we argued, she would lock herself in the bathroom and cut herself. I begged her to get help, but she didn’t want to. One day I had it. I broke up with her. She wanted to get back at me so she hurt herself and told the police it was me. That I had assaulted and hit her.”

Color vanished from her face. She unfolded her arms, then touched the door handle, her fingers clenching it with white knuckling intensity. Was she scared of him? He leaned forward, and she pressed her back against the seat, with a smothered gasp. “Did you do it?”

“God, no. Of course I didn’t.”

She cleared her throat, and her voice faltered. “Would you admit to it if you had?”
 

He thrust his fingers through his hair, irritation creeping under his skin. How could he expect her to trust him? “Are you for real? Sydney, I didn’t hit her or any other woman. I would never—”

 
“You pushed that guy aside and tossed his camera on the floor,” she blurted.
 

“I wanted his memory card.”

 
“So when you want something, you do everything in your power to get it? Am I one more thing you want?”
 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am being up-front with you. We’re in this together to find whoever is responsible. You’re sexy and it’s hard to keep my hands off you. What you see is what you get. Isn’t that what Americans say?” he said, staring at her intently. He noticed her throat working, and the pulse in her neck. The truth was the only thing he could offer right now that wouldn’t turn against him. Her eyes darkened to a cocoa shade, but he didn’t waver. No. For a moment that stretched for a notch longer than comfortable, they looked deep into each other, and he wondered if words were even necessary. Not that he understood what was being exchanged; but he felt it. Awareness at its best.

 
“What happened to her?” She slid to the edge of her seat, and he noticed she was jiggling her right foot as if her body dwelled between showing control and giving in to anxiety.
 

“Eventually she understood the message and left me alone. She was a socialite,” he added, hoping that would make Carla less likable for Sydney.
 

She frowned, a dark emotion crossing her face. “Why do you always refer to her in the past?”

“Because she disappeared from view,” he said truthfully. “Two months ago, but her family hasn’t filed a missing person’s report or anything. They said she went to Europe for a trip and wanted to disconnect from Argentina and the media.” The high society way of sweeping unpleasant events under the rug. He drummed his fingers on his leg, the sad reality wearing him down and pushing him against the seat. Glancing at the roof of the limo, he wished things were simpler. Maybe that’s why he was so attracted to her—that sexual connection was about the simplest thing in his life right now. Yet, the consequences were rather complicated.
 

 
“Doesn’t make any sense to me.” Her voice yanked him from his thoughts. “Why would an attention-seeker disappear into oblivion?” She upped her brow.
 

“I haven’t given it much thought. Her stunt cost me millions from ongoing business deals. Even with her retraction, it tarnished my reputation at the time.” What else could he say? He had no desire to keep in touch with her. Could she blame him?
 

 
“Did you ever try to get back at her? One way or another?” She cocked her head to the side, challenge dripping from her voice.
 

“No.” He shrugged. “Sometimes, it’s best to let fate take its course.”

She scratched her chin. “What do you mean?”

“I mean sometimes it’s best to learn from our mistakes, maybe she learned from hers. Listen, Sydney, don’t paint me as a monster just because a stupid pap said more than he should. Carla is probably living it up somewhere, far away from me, thank goodness.”
 

***

She rubbed her hands on her knees, desperate to will away the chilly sensation flooding her like a tsunami. Never mind it was well over ninety degrees outside; in the limo, the efficient AC blasting cold air had nothing on her body temperature. Ever since the paparazzo had mentioned assault, her brain had been working in overdrive, trying to put the pieces together.

      Was she really that bad in her choice of men? Not like he was her man. He was a politician’s son through and through, and a South American one at that—used to beautiful women around him, who knew how to entertain guests and dress to impress. Like his mother. Not a mouthy New Yorker like her.

      Besides, her flags were raised high. The man had been accused of assault, for crying out loud. And his ex girlfriend might as well have been missing. Shit. She gathered her strength to study him, and her heart flipped in her chest. He kept looking at her, his eyes both challenging her to believe him and warning her. Her stomach knotted, and she touched her belly wishing the simple gesture would help her.

      Help her? Was she crazy?
Buck up, Sydney.
She’d attended all those support meetings for adults who had been foster kids, had donated her cold hard cash to the cause, and for what? To give him the benefit of the doubt, just because he was sex on a long alluring stick? She couldn’t allow herself to go down that dead-end road. “When we get back to your place, I’m leaving.”

      He pursed his lips. “That’s not an option.”

      
Excuse me?
She balled her fingers into a fist. “You can’t keep me here against my will. You promised me I could leave at any time. ”

      “I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Sydney, if I wanted to harm you, why would I bring you all the way to Buenos Aires?”

      “Because here I am vulnerable. I don’t speak the language, I don’t know anyone.” If he wanted to get rid of her, no one would miss her. She wouldn’t be anything but a name in the company newsletter. A couple coworkers would say a prayer for her, the same way they would for anyone else—they probably had for Patty. She tasted bile in the back of her throat.
 

      He leaned forward, and the handsome contours of his face tightened. “You know me,” he breathed out, and goose bumps rose on her arms. The tortured plea in his eyes went against his proud stance.
 

      “We just established that I don’t,” she choked out the words.
 

      He lifted his chin, and quirked his lips to one side. “Would you like to?”

      Would she? She tapped her fingers on the buttery leather seat, and wished there was a button she could push to eject her from the vehicle and take her far away from Alejandro. The way her body responded to him jeopardized the work she’d been doing for years on herself. Life taught her to close the door to the wrong kind of people, and until she did that with every single bad specimen that crossed her way, she wouldn’t find someone who deserved her. Little mattered to her that he came from the upper crust of Argentine society. If his values were wrong, well, he was no different than her former foster families. “Right now, all I want is to go back to the US. Maybe that will be better for you, too. I can try to talk to Patty’s husband in person and convince him to get an autopsy done,” she said, realizing her suggestion was more self-serving than anything. It was an option, though, wasn’t it?

      He ran his fingers into his hair. “How come we were kissing one moment, and you’re pegging me as a coldhearted murderer the next?”

      She cleared her throat. “Because I thought you would keep me safe. I came here because after what I’ve been through in life I didn’t want to be someone’s punch bag anymore. My attacker could have killed me. He would have.”
 

“And you think I would do the same?”
 

“I think being attracted to you is blurring my judgment, and I can’t afford to lose my common sense. Safety isn’t just about the physical part, Alejandro.”
 

      “You said you went to prison for a crime you didn’t commit. Isn’t it hypocritical you aren’t giving me the benefit of the doubt, even when I have been cleared of the charge?”