The Wrong Man (10 page)

She didn’t know why not except their tryst was private and she didn’t want him to cheapen what happened by bragging to Ryan or any of the other men in his circle about his latest conquest.

“I just don’t.”

“If that’s what you want, no problem,” he said evenly, but his face tightened as if he did have a problem with the request.

“Good, I’m glad we understand each other.”

She smoothed her palm along the sides of her hair. From the corner of her eye she saw him drag on a pair of navy blue boxer briefs and sit on the edge of the bed.

“Should I feel used?” he asked.

“Of course not.” His question surprised her.

“If I treated you the way you’re treating me, you would be offended.” The detached tone of voice conflicted with the hard set of his jaw, suggesting turbulent emotions brewing below the surface.

“Hardly. I’d be grateful you weren’t making a big deal out of what happened last night.”

“Of course. Because you’re the ice princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” Talia snapped, pausing to stare him down in the mirror.

She hated any word that implied she was anything but a warm person—cold, frosty, frigid. She’d heard them all and hated them all. Reluctant to examine the reason behind her reaction, she only knew that to have him—of all people—call her an ice princess made the painful barb cut even deeper.

“You’re right, that is an unfair comment,” he said with a measure of insolence. “Once you get warmed up, there’s nothing cold about you. I could barely keep you off of me.”

This wasn’t his usual teasing. She could tell he was annoyed with her. Well, she wouldn’t take his comments lying down and had a snide observation of her own.

“Excuse me?” She turned away from the mirror. “You’re the one who couldn’t wait to get me over here. You kept bringing it up and practically strong armed me.”

“You stayed behind because I strong armed you?” he mocked.

“What’s the matter, Tomas, are you mad because I haven’t fallen all over you like your groupies? What do you want, a pat on the back? Okay, here goes—the sex was good.”

“Good?” His jaw tensed. “Try spectacular,
querida
. Tell the truth.”

Querida
. He’d called her that all through the night, whispered it in her ear along with streams of Spanish words whose melodious sounds had been like music to her ears, keeping her hot, and desperate, and aching for him. Now he was making it ugly. Instead of the beautiful endearment it should be, he’d turned the word into a grotesque mockery without the same affection, the same passion, the same sensual promise.

Talia’s eyes narrowed. “I knew it,” she said. “I knew I shouldn’t have slept with you. I let you coerce me into—”

He bolted from the bed and grabbed her so fast she never saw the move coming. His fingers sank into the soft flesh of her upper arm and his eyes flashed whiskey-colored flames. “Stop using the words coerce and strong-arm,” he grated. “They give the impression I have to force a woman to have sex with me, and we both know that’s not true. You got what you wanted, and I got what I wanted. Let’s be adult about this, okay?”

When he released her, she stumbled back and rubbed the spot where he’d touched her.

“I don’t like the way you talk about me, either. I’m not some desperate woman who needs…” She waved her hand expressively. “Whatever it is you think you have to offer.”

“What I have to offer,” he said, stalking forward to stand in her personal space, “is much more than what’s between my legs. But I don’t think I would even offer you that again. You don’t deserve it.”

“D-deserve it?” Talia sputtered. “You are an arrogant, narcissistic—” She broke off when he burst into laughter. “What are you laughing about?”

“Too bad we don’t like each other,” he said. “I think I would learn so many interesting words from you.”

“Oh, I have plenty of interesting words I’d like for you to learn.” Starting with a four-letter one.

“I’m certain I know those already. The first English words I learned were the bad ones.”

He walked away from her with his usual cocky gait that this time made her livid. He headed toward the open door of the bathroom. “See yourself out,” he said. “And don’t leave anything behind as an excuse to come back. I know how you women are.”

The door shut with finality behind him.

Talia stomped over and yelled, “You don’t have to worry about me leaving anything behind. I never,
ever
want to see you again, and I certainly have no reason to come back out here to this hell hole.”

When he didn’t respond, she muttered a stream of profanity. With one last look around the room to ensure she left nothing behind, she hurried out so she wouldn’t have to see him when he came back into the room.

Tomas left the bathroom as soon as he heard the bedroom door slam. Holding his toothbrush, he walked over to the window and braced one hand at the top of the sill. He watched Talia walk stiffly across the yard and climb into her gold Mercedes coupe, a car boasting leather trim and enough electronic gadgets to make Q of the James Bond films salivate. An image car whose characteristics matched those of its owner—exquisite and sleek.

The engine roared to life, and she drove down the dirt driveway toward the main road. He didn’t move, even when the cloud of dust made visibility of the vehicle difficult. Her angry departure had not been the way he envisioned their day would begin. He’d hoped for a more pleasurable start to the morning. Sexual frustration roared through his body.

Nerve-wracking woman.

Bristling with anger, he slammed his fist into the wall.

Chapter Twelve

Saturday morning Talia drove through Ryan and Shawna’s quiet neighborhood. Today was the first time she’d been back to the house since the party.

An entire week had passed since her night with Tomas and she hadn’t heard from him. Not that she’d expected to, it was just that…Her fingers gripped the steering wheel.

Why couldn’t she forget him? She sympathized with all those women she’d previously thought of as foolish. No wonder he hid out in the country. She almost wanted to become a stalker herself.

She should’ve heeded Shawna’s warning and not slept with him because he definitely knew what he was doing in the bedroom. How many times had she seen women lose their minds when they came into contact with a man like him? One who offered the kind of sex that made you do crazy things, like hand him the keys to your car or use words like “making love” when it was just sex—albeit of the mind-blowing, toe-curling variety.

Goodness, she had to pull it together or Shawna would see right through her and know something was wrong.

She turned left down the street to the cul-de-sac. Out here, the cars in the garages tended toward four door sedans and mini-vans. Most of the homes were filled with husbands and wives with a few kids, a dog, and maybe even a goldfish. A far cry from her loft in the Old Fourth Ward.

Children tossing a ball scampered out of her path so she could pull into the driveway. She let herself into the house.

“Hello! Where is everybody?” she called out.

“I’m in here,” Shawna called back.

The inviting aroma of a home-cooked meal greeted her nose, and when she entered the kitchen she saw Shawna washing vegetables at the sink in the island. Near her feet, sitting on a red plastic mat, Ryker played with a collection of colorful plastic bowls and a wooden spoon. When Talia entered he looked up.

“Hey, handsome,” she cooed.

She tickled his belly and he giggled, giving her one of his dimpled smiles and then went right back to pounding on the bowls.

“Are you okay?” Shawna asked. “You’re not getting sick, are you? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine.” Talia waved off her comment. “I was riding with the car windows down,” she lied. “Not a good idea in this heat.”

“Pour yourself some water and cool off.”

“Are those his latest toys?” Talia asked to distract her friend’s attention. Meanwhile she poured chilled water in a glass.

“I’m afraid so. He hardly touches any of the real toys we buy for him. He’d rather pull my pots and pans from the cabinet and bang them around, which makes way too much noise. I put latches on the lower cabinets, but he cried every time he couldn’t get in, so I surrendered and let him have one of the shelves. I moved the plastic bowls and some of his toys down there for him to play with. At least they don’t make as much noise as the pots and pans.”

Talia went to the other side of the island. She sipped the water and felt her body temperature lower. Much better.

She peeped out the window. “I see Ryan finally put the swing set together.”

Shawna laughed. “Ryker insisted on helping him, and I laughed my butt off watching those two. Ryan tried to stay calm while Ryker kept picking up bolts and screws and moving them around. I have a video of them. One day when you have time we’ll watch it together. You’ll get a good laugh.”

Talia watched Shawna shift vegetables into the colander to drain. “You need any help?”

“No, I’m almost done.”

The front door opened and the jingle of keys made Ryker look up from playing with the dishes. “Daddy!”

“Yes,” Shawna said. “Daddy’s home.”

“Daddy! Daddy!” Ryker scrambled to his feet, his wide-legged unstable gait taking him as fast as he could out of the kitchen.

“How long has Ryan been gone? It’s only been since this morning, right? He acts like he hasn’t seen him in years.”

“I think kids are like that in general. They’re always excited to see the parent they spend the least amount of time with.”

Ryan walked in with his son hanging upside down by one leg, squealing and laughing.

“Hi, baby,” Shawna said in a softened voice.

“Hey, love.” Holding his son with one hand, Ryan pulled Shawna closer with the other and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Then he kissed her cheek and nuzzled her neck. “Mmm…you smell good.”

“Like fried chicken?”

“Mmmhmm. And macaroni and cheese.” He tickled Ryker and the little boy giggled and squirmed, still upside down.

“If you drop my son,” Shawna warned.

“He’ll be all right.” Ryan grinned at Talia. “A fall on the head will toughen him up.”

“Ha-ha. Dinner’s almost ready. Go get washed up, and take your son with you.”

Shawna dipped a baby carrot in dressing and placed it in Ryan’s mouth. Their perfectly choreographed routine must have played out a thousand times before, their affectionate behavior illustrating their love for each other. Considering the rocky start to their relationship, Talia couldn’t be happier for them. After a brief encounter that ended disastrously years ago in Chicago, by chance, Ryan and Shawna ended up in Atlanta at different times. After orchestrating a blind date with her, Ryan managed to win her back.

Had she ever had such an intense love for Carter, or he for her? Had they ever had this sort of easy familiarity, where one anticipated the other’s actions and knew the other’s thoughts without uttering a word? She couldn’t remember, but every time she saw her friends together, she longed for that type of relationship. All their happiness and domestic bliss made it hard not to feel jealous.

“You staying for dinner, Talia?” Ryan called as he walked to the half bath in the hallway.

“No, I just stopped in to say hi.”

She heard the front door open again. “¡
Hola
!” a male voice called.

Talia stilled.

No, not him.

Ignoring the betraying acceleration of her pulse, she stood up straight, tossed back her shoulders and prepared to give Tomas the cold shoulder. When he appeared in the doorway, she couldn’t help but catch her breath. The gray T-shirt he wore clung to his abs and defined chest, and the worn jeans brought attention to his long legs. Damn, he looked good.

His eyes drifted over her. “Talia,” he said. His voice held no emotion.

She schooled her face into a cool expression, about to greet him in the same emotionless way when a woman appeared behind him and the words lodged in her throat.

“Hi, Tomas,” Shawna greeted him. “Hi, Bianca. How are you?”

Bianca, a tall, svelte Hispanic woman, wore a pair of jeans leaving nothing to the imagination. They fit over her ample hips and long legs like a second skin. Her pouty red lips lifted into a friendly smile when she saw Talia.

“Bianca, this is one of my best friends, Talia,” Shawna said. “Talia, this is Bianca. She’s a friend of Tomas’s.”

“I’m a good, good friend of Tomas.” Bianca spoke with a thick Spanish accent. She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Talia said, clasping her hand firmly and pumping hard.

She glanced at Tomas and quickly turned away from his searching eyes. Fighting back the jealousy that bubbled to life inside her, she concentrated on the glass in front of her as if the secrets of the universe lay hidden in the water. She certainly didn’t own him and had insisted their night together was a onetime occurrence, but she hadn’t expected this. Not so soon. A prick of pain sprouted in her chest. It hurt a little. It hurt a lot. There she’d been, thinking about him, aching for him, and he’d already moved on.

Ryan came out of the bathroom and Ryker ran ahead of him. He ran around Bianca and latched onto Talia’s leg.

“Hey, little man,” she murmured, scooping him up in her arms. “You want to play with me now, huh?”

“Be careful,” Ryan warned. “You know he’s a breast man.”

Sure enough, Ryker patted Talia’s chest and then rested his head on her cleavage.

“Ryker!” Shawna scolded, doing her best to hide a smile but failing miserably.

His head popped up, as if to check if his mother was really angry. Then he broke out into a big smile that could spread sunshine on a rainy day. He burst into a fit of giggles, making the adorable sound children make when they’re being mischievous, and then he plopped his head back onto Talia’s chest.

“I told you he knows exactly what he’s doing,” Shawna said to Ryan.

“That’s my boy!” Ryan said, and pumped his fist.

Shawna elbowed him in the ribs, and he dragged her close with a laugh, planting a loud kiss on her neck.