Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (88 page)

“Welcome to the Citadel. I look forward to working with you.” His eyes warmed with appreciation as he looked her over once more. His lips kicked up at the corners, not quite a full-fledged smile.

Ileana’s stomach gave a funny flip. “My succession isn’t assured yet. My distant cousin, Juan Carlos Herrera, is also in line for my father’s job.” Why had she told him that? He didn’t need to know personal matters.

A slight frown marred Michael’s brow. “But he’s not a Calderon and you are.”

“He’s blood.”

“Ah, family.” His tone went flat and his face smoothed into an unreadable mask. Before she could speculate any further, he offered, “I’ll show you the new merchandise.”

Michael turned and led the way down an aisle lined with metal shelves reaching nearly to the ceiling, filled with wooden shipping crates. She caught herself admiring the way his trousers shaped his tight rear and flushed. She moved to his side where his other temptations taunted her.

He flicked her another warm glance. “Your father is a young man. Business must be good if he’s retiring early.”

Michael was fishing for information. Ileana debated the wisdom of telling him the truth, but her father was stepping down so what could it hurt?

“My father has uncontrolled high blood pressure. His doctor advised him to take it easy. My mother insisted he step down.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The words rang with sincerity and something darker.

“My father’s a smart man. He’s taken the first steps to ensure we’ll have him in our lives for a long time.”

“This way.” Michael stepped in front of her.

His curt reply and sudden movement brought her up short in the aisle. What had she said? She stared after him and saw how rigid his spine was, how his stride had become nearly a stalk. Had he lost his own father to a health problem?

Ileana caught up to him when the aisle widened into an area full of opened crates.

“Here,” he said.

She laid her hand on his forearm. When he looked into her eyes it was nearly a physical connection. His brown eyes had darkened with what she thought was pain. Was that the reason the Sight had chosen him?

“I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

Michael gently removed her hand. “No need to apologize. I have to get back to my office soon. Please look at our most recent arrivals. I’m sure you’ll find something the Calderon Consortium wants.”

She’d found something she wanted all right. Her body thrummed with the need to press against Michael Ziffkin until he eased his pain inside her. She’d thought their affair would be a one-night stand, an anomaly in her life the same as her letting a white man touch her. Perhaps she’d misread the dream and they’d be together longer. So she let his curtness roll off her.

They inspected the contents of crates from Indonesia, Burma, Malaysia, Turkey, and Korea. Some of the goods would sell well in her family’s tourist shops. Other items looked cheap or were too strange for their stores.

Choosing was simple—she’d worked in the family business since she was a child and knew what the stores carried. She also knew what sold well. The hard part was deciding how much product to buy and choosing items to help Calderon modernize; items she wasn’t sure her father would like.

Ileana stood beside Michael, feeling the warmth of his body. He was only four inches taller than her five foot eight. She liked being nearly eye to eye with him and being close to him. His hands riveted her gaze as they touched the merchandise and then wrote firmly on the order form.

He spoke smoothly with confidence that demonstrated a firm grasp of his business and an intelligent mind.

Sight or no Sight, she found herself falling under his spell, tingling as his gaze slid up and down her body. His eyes smoldered with his bold appraisal, telling her he wasn’t unmoved by her close proximity.

When their business was concluded, Ileana held out her hand. Michael grasped it and she felt that electric thrill once more.

“We’ll deliver the goods this week,” Michael promised. “I hope you succeed your father so we can work together more.”

“Thank you. I hope so too.”

Still he held onto her hand. His dark gaze pierced hers. “Would you have dinner with me?”

Ileana’s breath clogged in her throat. Dinner. With a strange man, not one of her many relatives. She opened her mouth to politely refuse, but no words came out. How could she explain? Could she explain? She found she didn’t want to refuse.

Unfortunately, she took too long to reply. Michael’s face wiped clean of all expression. He released her hand. “I’ve put you in an awkward position where you don’t know how you can refuse without hurting our business relationship. I’m sorry. I don’t make a habit of asking customers out.”

She rushed to allay his fears. “I’d like to have dinner with you. We can get to know one another as business associates.”

Michael blinked. He looked like he swallowed any questions he had. “Is seven o’clock all right? Would you like to bring your boyfriend?”

“I’m not dating anyone. Where would you like to meet? I’d prefer it to be away from Little Havana.” And her many prying relatives.

“The Wharf Restaurant on Market Street has great seafood.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’ll see you at seven.”

Michael still stared at her with his serious, intent gaze. She found herself wondering what his lips would taste like. She wet her own. He tracked the movement like a predator studied prey. The compulsion to kiss him was nearly overwhelming. She felt flushed.

When he moved a little closer to her, she had difficulty breathing.

“Is there something else you want?” he murmured.

Mother of God, yes! It had been a lifetime since she’d wanted a man’s hands on her, or his lips touching her in ways that wrung gasps of pleasure from her. It had been equally as long since she’d touched a man where only a lover could and heard him groan his need.

Yet Michael wasn’t her
novio
, her future intended husband, to whom she could give herself. He wasn’t anything to her except fate’s promise. She couldn’t tumble into his bed after no more than a handshake.

Ileana backed away. It was extremely hard to move. When she was a few feet from him, she whirled and walked towards the door. But she couldn’t resist one last look at him over her shoulder. He wasn’t a beautiful man, and yet he made her heart race, her stomach quiver, her breasts ache, and her hands itch. She’d hold off fate for as long as she could until she could get to know this quiet, almost stern man. As the door closed, she found she could breathe once more.

• • •

Michael took a deep breath and tried to calm his pounding pulse. He had no hope of taming his stiff hard-on for the next few minutes. He throbbed with need as he watched Ileana’s tight ass turn the corner and glimpsed one last view of her shapely breasts.

Ileana was a siren and no matter how hard he shook his head he couldn’t dispel her effect on him. She was hot. She’d made him hot. That thin crocheted top had clung to her slender body. Her full breasts had strained against the delicate material. He broke into a cold sweat imagining them unbound against his bare chest.

She was a Latin beauty with dark brown hair, a triangular face, and lips made for kissing. She spoke with the slightest Hispanic accent, her words liquid and sultry. He wanted to know what else she could do with that mouth.

Michael felt as horny as some fifteen-year-old boy. As randy as his brother Charlie used to get when their next-door neighbor walked by in her Catholic school uniform. Michael wondered if Ileana had gone to Catholic school, since most Cubans were Catholic. And had she kept her uniform for sentimental reasons? He had to squash that thought before he embarrassed himself.

He wasn’t even supposed to be at this warehouse. His assistant had called to say merchandise was missing. If he hadn’t taken a personal interest, he wouldn’t have met Ileana. He didn’t believe in fate. Not anymore.

But Ileana was a contradiction with her bold, cat-slanted brown eyes and refusal to make dinner a date. How would she have responded if he’d told her he wanted to take her home to bed? Right now. Her eyes signaled yes, but her mouth said no. He didn’t understand it.

Michael shook himself like a Labrador after a swim. He’d never felt this hot for a woman. She was a customer, for God’s sake. What kind of an impression had he made on her? He made a mental note to research her family’s business. He was going to need all his wits about him—and all his facts—if he was going to have a business meeting with Ileana.

Thoughts of the fiery Latina dissolved when he met with his assistant once more. Desiree Carver had worked for him for four years and had made herself indispensable. He trusted her to find out what had happened to the merchandise.

He’d hired the young African American woman with the perfect skin as a favor to his best friend from college, Jamal Blake. Jamal and Desiree lived together with their young son. She’d taken to the job like a natural and now she loved Citadel almost as much as he did.

“I’ll keep looking here if you want to go back to the office,” Desiree told him. She had beautifully expressive liquid brown eyes.

“If it’s theft, we have to get the police involved,” Michael reminded her.

“I know, Michael.” Her bright eyes searched his. “That woman was from Calderon?”

“One of the heirs apparent. Esteban is stepping down.”

“Do we risk losing a client when that happens? She’s a lot younger than him.”

“She seemed pleased with our selection. She even bought some of the less traditional tourist items we just received.”

Desiree smiled and nodded her satisfaction. “We’d better hope she inherits Esteban’s job, then.”

Michael silently agreed. He was eager for seven o’clock to arrive.

He drove through the congested streets of Miami to his office in the business district. It was centrally located to all four of his warehouses and he’d moved into the space when he’d opened his latest warehouse. He drove into the underground parking garage, relieved to be out of the scorching July sun.

Home again.

He’d spent more time at Citadel the past few years than he had in his condo. He wasn’t a workaholic, but with the exception of his parents and Jamal, he had no other intimates. His brothers Rick and Charlie had lost touch with him after their brother Billy was murdered two-and-a-half years ago. They’d both returned to Miami this past winter, but he hadn’t seen either of them for any length of time. That would change at Charlie’s wedding in a few weeks.

Michael rode the elevator up to the eighteenth floor. Citadel’s secretary/receptionist, Nadine Hutton, handed him his phone messages. From her personnel forms, he knew she was twenty-four and unmarried, but he hadn’t tried to learn more about the petite brunette in the year she’d been with Citadel. He knew she was good at her job, and he paid her enough to keep her from leaving.

“If Desiree calls, please put her through no matter what.”

“Sure, Michael.”

Citadel’s headquarters consisted of the reception area and two offices. Imported items from their warehouses made the space inviting and achieved a mix of comfortable elegance and exotic mystique. He didn’t like wasting overhead, but Desiree had convinced him of the necessity once they reached their current size.

Michael entered his office and stood for a moment staring out the floor-to-ceiling window at the small patch of blue that was the Atlantic Ocean. The view was truncated by another skyscraper, but he didn’t mind. His goods traveled over that blue to his warehouses and moved via truck and plane to his clients. Business was good this year. He was getting steadily wealthier, investing enough in the business to continue its growth, but diverting enough into secure funds.

He perused his messages. Security salesman, office supply salesman, a janitorial service. The fourth message was from his mother. He phoned her back first. “Hi, Mom. How are you feeling?”

“The same as yesterday. I love your concern, but can’t you ask me what I’m doing instead of how?”

He hadn’t been able to focus on other facets of her life since she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer a year ago. Even after six months in remission, her doctor still considered her recovering. And so did Michael.

“I’m more than my cancer, Michael,” she reminded him.

“I know, Mom.” He forced a smile and lightened his tone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m planning a dinner for Charlie and Juliana. I wanted to know if you could come. You’ve barely met Juliana.”

“Mom, I grew up next door to her. I don’t have to get to know her.”

“You only knew her until she was sixteen. She’s grown since then.”

His gut tightened. “Okay, I’ll get to know her. When?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight? Mom, I can’t. I’m having dinner with a client.”

“Can’t you reschedule?”

He’d do nearly anything to make her happy, but he wanted to see Ileana again. He wouldn’t give that up. “Can’t Charlie and Juliana come tomorrow night?”

“They’re booked until the wedding. I’m lucky I got this slot.”

Anger erupted in him. His mother hadn’t told her youngest son about her cancer because of his upcoming nuptials. She wanted his big day with his childhood sweetheart untroubled. Michael disagreed. Why should his mother have to pretend she felt well if she didn’t?

“I can’t make it to dinner tonight, but I can swing by afterwards. Although I don’t know what time that will be.” He’d really wanted to take Ileana home to bed later if dinner went well. He kissed that chance good-bye.

“I’m glad we’ll see you later. Your father and I need to discuss something with you.”

Michael sat straighter in his chair, every nerve in his body screaming a warning. “About what?”

“We’ll discuss it tonight. I know you’re busy.”

“Mom, tell me,” he ordered.

There was a brief silence, then, “The doctor ordered some blood tests because I’ve been feeling tired.”

His mom had taught school right up to her mastectomy. If she was admitting to tiredness, she must be exhausted. “When will you have the results?” His voice sounded like broken glass.