Red Hot Christmas (32 page)

      She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re bossy.”

      He bowed his head. “Thank you.”
 

      Instead of going back into the fitting room, she popped open the top buttons of her polo shirt. His eyes were on hers the entire time, admiring the freckles peppered on her nose and cheeks. Ah, she was gorgeous, and nothing would ever change that.
 

      “There.” Her lips barely moved.
 

      He lowered his gaze to her neck, and saw a trail of small pockets of swollen skin disappearing on her back. “What happened?”
 

      She turned around and pulled the shirt down, and he saw her skin still blemished, but the traces thinned as they snaked down her back. “I was at this home for a while. The couple was always working, but they had another foster kid. Jason. He got there before me and bonded with them instantly. Out of all the houses I had been through, that one wasn’t so bad.” She raised her eyes to his, and he wished he could find a way into the glossy sadness of her hazel pupils. “When Jason heard they were interested in adopting me and not him, he couldn’t handle it.” She touched her neck. “The foster mom was cooking spaghetti one day, and Jason took the boiling water and splashed it on me.”
 

      An intense amount of rage that defied description brewed inside him. His temples throbbed, his blood pounding hot and thick. Ignoring her rules, he inched toward her and tipped up her face “Where the fuck is that bastard?”

      “He went to juvie then prison and God knows where else.”

      “Why didn’t they adopt you after you were burned?”

      “I became too damaged for them, I guess.”
 

      “They are worthless human beings. I’m sorry you went through that, Sydney. You have to believe me, though, this doesn’t change how beautiful you are.” He ran his hand down her neck, trailing his index finger along her scar.
 

      She shivered at first, skittish.
 

      “So you aren’t perfect. Neither am I.”

      She moved. His fingers fell from her skin and he perched them on his hips. “It’s easy to say that when you could be on the glossy cover of GQ.”

      “This hot GQ model would give anything in the world to kiss every single one of your scars until you forget they were ever there.”

      Quickly, she parted her lips but the snarky comeback never made it past her mouth. She avoided looking at him altogether, and instead focused on the floor.
 

      “Don’t let an insecurity keep you from experiencing wonderful things, Sydney. You can choose any of those dresses. A few imperfections won’t change who you are.”
 

      She glanced at the dresses hung on the rack, and grabbed one of them without much consideration. “Wouldn’t be nice if it were true,” she said, and his heart tightened like it had been crushed. Why was convincing her of that so damn important to him?

***

Sydney upped her brow at the reflection the mirror offered her. The forest green gown hugged her upper body then flowed down past her waist with ruffles of the softest fabric. A pair of sparkly gold espadrilles on her feet matched the look. The sales manager had given her a cool summer scarf to drape over her neck, a distracting accessory. Except, not to her.

She outlined the pocket of skin, the disfigured part of her that didn’t have any live cells according to the doctors. A part that couldn’t feel. Yet, it was the same part that hurt the most.
 

A knock on her door yanked her from her musings.
 

“Come in.” She arranged the scarf around her neck, hoping to God she was wearing it the right way.
 

The practicality of scarves took a backseat to the breathtaking man in an exquisite tuxedo coming across her room. Her pulse quickened, and her toes curled inside the sexy, blood-clotting, espadrilles. His hair was slicked to the side, and he was rocking an Old Hollywood glamour look without much effort.
 

 
“You’re gorgeous,” he said, with that voice that had the power to destroy the brick wall she had taken too long to build. She had gone on dates before prison. The few men she had chosen were safe bets, and none of them provoked in her the toe curling sensations that Alejandro did.
 

She started to play with her scarf, to give her fidgety fingers something to do—to distract them from the growing need to reach out and touch him. “Mostly gorgeous.”

He inched toward her. “Bits of burned skin don’t change that.”

She stepped back, and clenched the soft fabric around her neck.
 

His gaze locked with hers and held. Little flickers of silver shimmered against his intense black irises. The sensations he provoked intensified, and against her better judgment, she savored each one of them. Goose bumps rose on her oversensitive skin, and it was like a draft of warmth swept over her. “What’s on your mind?” she asked, foolishly.
 

“You. If it were up to me, your dress would be bunched at your waist, and we’d be in the closet.” His voice was husky, and she quivered as if that image alone prickled all her nerve endings.
 

“Well, but we’re not, so.” She grabbed the clutch from the vanity and choked out a coughing sound. How else to cue him this was time to leave? That the two of them in a room, with a bed nearby was the temptation that could ruin how far she had come?

He removed something from his jacket and offered it to her. “Let me give you this.”

She touched the velvety jewelry box. “What is it?”

He leaned against the bedpost, assessing her reaction. “An early Christmas gift.”

She unwrapped the box, deciding this was no big deal. The man had millions to burn, and she had never received a real piece of jewelry in her life.
 

She contemplated the gorgeous necklace, and the pendant that hung from it. It was a phoenix crusted in diamonds. “Wow. Thank you. But I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”

“Yes you can. And I hope you will. I thought it would suit you. Turn around.” His voice dropped an octave, and she obeyed him without much thought.
 

A phoenix. Emotion welled up inside her, and she had to clamp her lips to prevent from saying too much. How many times had she started over in her life? Too many. How many times did she allow herself to continue a relationship? Her stomach curled. Who was talking about relationships?
 

Alejandro slid his fingers on her neck, and her little hairs stood on end as a shiver went through her. Her nipples tightened, and she worried her bottom lip. He closed the necklace.

She drew away from him, muttering, “Thanks.”

      He propped her in front of the mirror, and pulled the scarf off of her. Before it slid from her entirely, she lifted her hand and tugged at the hem.
 

      “You don’t need this, Sydney,” he whispered. “Look at you.”

      She lifted her gaze to the mirror, and the phoenix sparked at her neck. She shrugged. “I guess expensive jewelry makes for a good distraction.” Her eyes trailed south, at the sweep of her neck, and she shook her head. “I just wanna wear it anyway. Call it a luxury security scarf-blanket.”

      He lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine. If you want to keep telling yourself that it’s a big deal, who am I to stop you?”
 

      She pondered over his stupid question all the way to the Four Seasons ballroom where the fundraiser was in full swing. A Holiday themed party to benefit inner city children. Good-looking women in their thirties and forties shared, laughed and sipped red wine, all adorned with rich textures and shimmering jewelry. The men didn’t fall behind, although Alejandro Soto was in a class of his own. She sighed.
 

      She tried to keep her focus on golden accents scattered throughout the place. A gorgeous chandelier dropped from the high ceiling, and different shades of red, from bright to a dark wine, were present everywhere; as table linens, also as part of the staff uniform and on huge vases standing next to ice sculptures.
 

The beautiful distractions only worked for so long. She found herself looking over her shoulder, trying to make eye contact with the bodyguard. Her heart pumped every time it took longer than a second to find him. If the attacker at Alejandro’s mother’s place had anything to do with the one who had clocked her, she was at risk. He was at risk.
 

      They sat at a table with a few other couples. Even though Alejandro had introduced them to her in English, and they nodded and greeted one another, soon they swayed back to Spanish and hell, she couldn’t blame them. She savored two glasses of red wine, and was about to motion for the waiter to serve her a third, when Alejandro nudged her elbow.
 

      “You’re quiet,” he said, his voice soft like cotton candy.

      She shrugged. “This isn’t my element.”

      “What is your element?”

      She stared at her empty glass of wine. “I miss flying. And helping patients.” She had checked the company email a couple times from Alejandro’s laptop, searching for any dirt related to Patty’s death. Besides the info on funeral arrangements, there had been no other news. The fact that she would miss saying goodbye to Patty both saddened her and encouraged her—to keep going, relentlessly, and discover the son of a bitch who killed her. And make him pay.
 

      “What about it do you miss?”

      “Flying gives me the opportunity not to choose where I have to be. I don’t feel like an outsider, because I’m in the thick of things. There are no homes, no other people with things I don’t have,” she said then pulled back, surprised at her own honesty.
 

      “Sydney, I believe you were innocent when you went to jail for fraud,” he said.

      She worried her bottom lip. “Really? Why? And why tell me that now?”
And did my heart float all the way to my throat?
 

      He ran a finger along her cheek, and the caress almost made her jolt from her chair. “I just wanted you to know.”

       The lights turned off on them, and a round of applause surged through the room. The spotlights shone on a couple in the middle of the floor, and the atmosphere was intimate. The dramatic notes of a tango filled the room. They started to dance, and Sydney was entranced. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the female dancer, who worked the floor with confidence and strength. Her black hair was securely tied in a bun, and a cherry red stained her lips. The dress was black with a few silver beads that sparkled when she moved. And the man…oh, the dancer rocked a black suit and sleek hair. He spun her, in a menacing rhythm as if the two of them partly agreed, partly disagreed.
 

      Moisture evaporated from her throat, and she fell back on her chair, her shoulders sagging like she just lost a battle.
 

      The music soared, and the audience cheered as the woman slid across his body, with the kind of precision from a dance movie.
 

      She licked her lips. Strings of envy swirled inside her, and she wished she had that lightness in her. Not to dance. She had two left feet. But the assertive way the woman touched him, and let herself be touched and handled by him. The dancer was strong, fearless, and magnificent.
 

      He leaned closer. “Enjoying the show?” His breath fanned strands of her hair.
 

      “Take me out of here,” she heard herself saying. “Now.” She gritted her teeth.

      “Why?”

      Because it was time to surrender to her explosive desire. She knew it, in her heart, sleeping with him would set her free in more ways than one. “I want to touch you. And want you to touch me. Everywhere. Like you said.”
 

      He flashed her a smile and offered his hand to her. “Come with me.”
 

Chapter 7

      “Why are we taking longer to get to your mom’s place?” she asked in the car.

      “Because we aren’t going to my mother’s,” he answered, and turned his attention to the steering wheel. A quick glance at the rearview mirror assured the black car with the bodyguard followed behind him. As an adult, he didn’t enjoy the surveillance more than when he had been a child. If this had been just about him, he wouldn’t have made use of one of the best security teams in the country. There was Sydney to consider, though. “We are going to the hangar, to hop on the helicopter and head to the beach house.”

      She turned to him. “What?”
 

      He flashed her a smile. “I’ve been fantasizing about having you in my bed for too long to have to smother your moans, my dear.” The spontaneous idea to take her to the beach house made more and more sense. She had helped him open up about Amparo’s death, and although talking about it didn’t make him any less guilty, he wanted to build better memories in that house. He would have to deal with what had happened in the past anyway, but wasn’t he a hypocrite?