The Wrong Man (15 page)

She heard him coming up the stairs and hustled out of the bathroom to slide under the covers and tried to look natural. He walked in and her heart made a giant leap in her throat. He filled the room with his presence, moving quietly—slow and sexy.

He undressed in the dark, and she rose up on one elbow to watch him. “You’re being rather presumptuous, aren’t you? No hello, and you just start getting naked?”

“Hello.”

She faked a yawn. “I’m going to sleep.”

“No you’re not. Not now that I’m here.”

When he was completely nude, she welcomed him onto the bed with open arms. He skated his hand under her nightie, tracing the curve of her hip up to her waist. “Why aren’t you naked?” he asked, sounding incredulous. “I told you I was coming.”

“You’re way too confident.” She threaded her fingers through his hair and out of his face. He’d recently showered, the refreshing scent of bergamot and lime a welcomed aroma. “I’m going to have to find a way to humble you.”

“You can try, but it won’t happen.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “One minute.”

“Where are you going?”

He went over to her closet. Slivers of light from the street lamps outside illuminated his back and thighs. It should be illegal to be that breathtaking, to have a body so hard and defined it appeared to be carved from granite.

“What are you doing in there?” she asked.

He didn’t reply, but he reappeared holding a pair of red heels by the straps. “I want you to wear these,” he said.

He had a thing for her in heels—the higher the better. His eyes would darken as he watched her strip off every piece of clothing except her shoes. This was the first time he requested the red ones, but he liked her in that color. She’d bought extra pairs of matching bras and panties in red because he couldn’t seem to control himself when he saw the bright hue against her dark coloring.

In the dim light, she saw the cocky grin on his face and knew if he asked her to dance on the highway in the middle of Atlanta’s rush hour traffic she might do it just because he asked. She couldn’t resist giving him anything he requested. Their relationship had come to that point.

Because I’m in love with him.
Her stomach quivered at the scary thought.

How quickly and easily she’d fallen for him was unsettling. But she accepted the truth of her feelings, even though such depth of emotion made her a little afraid.

Sticking out one foot from under the sheet, Talia pointed her toes at him. “Put them on me,” she said.

Chapter Eighteen

A pretty fall day in early autumn, Talia sat on the porch with her laptop while Tomas cut the grass on the riding lawn mower. Even with the Georgia heat at a more manageable level, he still had a thin layer of sweat on his muscular back as he rode around his large property with his earphones on, listening to the latest music on the local Latin radio station. 

She’d grown to love the country as much as he did. Despite her complaints about the long drive, she preferred to stay out there instead of at her place. The peace and quiet kept her coming back, and the bugs weren’t nearly as bad as she’d thought they would be. Citronella candles had become her best friends, and Tomas sprayed the bushes with repellant where the mosquitoes converged so they wouldn’t disturb her.

He finished the grass and she watched him walk over to the porch, wiping his face with a washcloth, the gold necklace on his chest reflecting the sun’s rays. He sat in the chair beside her, and she smelled the earth and musky sweat from him having been out in the sun for the greater part of the day.

He turned to her with concern in his eyes and rubbed her back. “How do you feel now?”

She hadn’t been well the past couple of days. Yesterday morning a bout of nausea had attacked her on the way to work and she’d thrown up her breakfast. First thing this morning she’d vomited again almost as soon as she woke up. She’d made an appointment with her doctor for Monday because what she thought was a twenty-four hour bug had turned into a seventy-two hour nuisance. If she continued to feel ill, hopefully the doctor could tell her what was wrong.

“I’m better,” she replied. “I ate all the soup and crackers.” He’d put her back to bed after she’d thrown up and went to the store to get crackers and the ingredients for chicken soup. His Cuban version included fresh cilantro and chopped green onions.

“Good.”

Silence descended between them and she could tell he had something else he wanted to say. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, but she didn’t push. She continued to type notes into the computer while she waited him out.

“Since you’re out here so much, you might as well leave a few things here. There’s plenty of space in the bathroom, and I could move some clothes around so you could take one of the drawers.”

Talia kept her eyes on the computer but no longer saw the words on the screen. Surprise didn’t adequately describe how she felt. Stunned was more like it. “That would definitely be convenient.” Inside she turned cartwheels but outwardly kept her voice neutral.

Their gazes met and held, and in that moment she knew that this was not only a big step for him, it was a big step for
them
. They’d been seeing each other for almost five months, but she always packed her toiletries and clothes and took everything with her when she went back to her place after the weekend. She didn’t even leave a toothbrush there, loathed to be accused of being one of those women who prematurely tried to mark her territory. They’d already had that conversation when she accidentally left the sunglasses. But this was a new phase in a relationship that so far had progressed with a speed neither of them could have anticipated.

“Then it’s settled,” he said, his expression inscrutable. Was he turning cartwheels on the inside, too, and hiding how important this move was to him? “When you come back next week bring extra clothes, shower gel, and all that other crap you’re always hauling back and forth in your weekend bag. Just leave them here.”

He playfully tugged a loose twist in her hair. Over the past couple of weeks she’d succumbed to her hairdresser’s suggestion to stop flat-ironing her hair and experiment with wearing her natural coils in other styles. Today she wore a flat twist updo and he’d complimented her on the hairdo earlier. She really didn’t think she could do any wrong where he was concerned.

“Sounds good. I will,” she said lightly.

“I’m going to take a shower.” He stood and stretched. The taut muscles of his chest and arms bunched in a display of male perfection. “Then I’m going back to the store. Tonight you learn to make black beans.” The mood shifted to a lighter tone.

“Aw.” She pouted, hoping to change his mind, but knowing she couldn’t.

“No more avoiding. Beans and rice are the keys to a Cuban man’s heart.”

“I thought great sex was the key to a Cuban man’s heart,” she offered helpfully.

“That, too,” he said, and then he hesitated. For long seconds they looked at each other. In the past she would have fidgeted and shied away from his scrutiny. Now she held his gaze, hopeful, knowing he wanted to say more but something held him back. Then he grinned and the moment was lost.

He went into the house and Talia thought about joining him in the shower but refrained, preferring to stay with her thoughts and let the gravity of what had transpired sink in. He was making space for her in his house, and they’d advanced to talking about hearts. A smile slowly spread across her face. She’d never thought she’d be ready for a relationship so soon after her marriage ended, but this one was working out nicely.

****

Upstairs, Tomas was in the process of doing something he never envisioned doing—shifting clothes from the top drawer of his bureau to make way for a woman’s clothes. He hadn’t even planned to make the suggestion to Talia, but it made perfect sense considering how much time she spent at the house with him.

Granted, his home was his sanctuary, and he’d never risked even hinting to another woman she should leave anything behind, not that it stopped them. Women could be as bad as men when marking their territory. They may start with leaving a toothbrush in your bathroom, only for the sake of convenience, they’d say. Then they’d leave one or two articles of clothing, so they’d have clothes to change into when they slept over.

Others were downright sneaky, leaving panties or bras stuffed in the sofa cushions or under a pillow, in the hope another woman would find it. When he found underwear—or the even harder to detect earrings—he generally tossed them because he never knew who they belonged to.

But Talia hadn’t done any of that. Aside from the sunglasses, which he’d long ago accepted she’d told the truth about, she never left a single item behind when she went home. Not even a toothbrush. Every weekend she took over his bathroom with her lotions, makeup, and hair products, and every weekend she packed them all up and stuffed them in a bag with her clothes. Then she walked out the door as if she didn’t plan to come back.

He should be glad she took all her crap, but it bugged him. The bathroom counters looked extra empty after she left, and a sense of unease he couldn’t shake always remained in the pit of his stomach for a day or two afterward. As if their relationship was only temporary and had an expiration date.

How ironic was it that the reason he guarded his privacy and didn’t allow women to leave items at his house, was the very reason he wanted Talia to leave her clothes there. To create some semblance of permanence and continuity.

In truth, he liked having her around. She made him feel content, even when she drove him crazy. The search for the next hot woman no longer interested him because he had a hot woman, and she satisfied him in every way.

Looking down at the stack of dress shirts he pulled from the bureau, he remembered the weekend Talia showed up at his house with shopping bags in hand. She’d gone to the mall and purchased ties and shirts for him and proudly showed him the items when she came over. At first he’d been flattered that a woman had gone to so much trouble and bought him clothes, but when he took a look at the receipt that had fallen out of one of the bags, he balked at the prices.

“Sixty dollars for a tie!” he’d exclaimed. “I could probably buy ten for the same price.”

“They’re silk and were on sale,” she’d said. “And these are good quality.” She rubbed the fabric between her fingers and sounded so reasonable her explanation almost made sense—except it didn’t.

“Talia, this is ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not,” she’d said, looking hurt and disappointed. “I liked them and thought you’d look nice in them.”

And so he’d tried on one of the shirts and looped a tie around his neck. She’d shown him how to tie a proper Windsor knot since he hadn’t worn a tie since he attended his father’s funeral at the age of nine, and at that time his mother had knotted it for him.

When he’d seen the pleased expression on her face, he’d figured what the hell. He didn’t look bad. Maybe wearing a tie and nice shirt every now and again wouldn’t be so terrible, and if it made her happy…

“All right, we’ll keep them,” he’d said.

She’d squealed and jumped on him and proceeded to loosen the tie and undo the buttons on the shirt.

Back in the present, Tomas set the shirts on the top shelf of the closet. Slowly but surely, his life was changing because of her, but at least these were small changes. Ones he could handle and control.

Chapter Nineteen

Pregnant!

Sitting on the sofa in the living room, Talia was no more comfortable with the word than when her doctor had used it hours before. Her primary care physician had recommended she make an appointment to see her gynecologist when he couldn’t find anything wrong with her.

Dr. Mehta had fit her in early Wednesday afternoon, and she’d stared at her doctor as if the woman had lost her mind. “Impossible. I’m on birth control.”

But she was pregnant. The ultrasound showed a seven-week-old baby growing inside of her.

She’d missed a Depo shot appointment, but she hadn’t been concerned because she’d thought she was still in the safe zone. And even though she hadn’t had a cycle, she still hadn’t worried because when stressed or under a heavy workload, or even when she increased her level of exercise, she might miss her period over the course of a month or two.

In a reasonable voice meant to calm but which had the opposite effect, her gynecologist had explained. “Statistically you should have been fine since you had your shot within two weeks of the scheduled date, but the only true safe zone is to get your shot within the twelve week guidelines.” Her eyes turned sympathetic. “And you know that no contraceptive is one hundred percent effective.”

Now she found herself in a predicament she couldn’t have imagined—single and with an unwanted pregnancy. She’d never had to take care of anyone else before, nor had she ever babysat or changed a diaper in her life. Carter had wanted children, but she hadn’t been willing to give them to him. Her career had taken precedence for years, because her only concern had been climbing the corporate ladder—and making her grandmother proud.

When she and Carter divorced she’d seen it as a blessing they hadn’t had kids. Not only did children complicate divorce, she couldn’t imagine being responsible for another human being. Certainly not a helpless, tiny creature who would look to her for all its needs.

She placed her hand over her flat stomach, trying to imagine what it would be like to be someone’s mother. How could she care for someone else?

She thought about all the changes Shawna had gone through after Ryker’s birth. “Your priorities change,” Shawna had told her once, as if that explained everything.

Ryker had taken over her friends’ home. Once he’d started walking, every room had to be baby-proofed. Cushions protected against the sharp corners of furniture and each outlet had a plug covering it. Shawna and Ryan couldn’t make plans unless they coordinated babysitting or at a minimum, where they were going accommodated children. She was tired just thinking of all the rearranging she’d have to do if she had a child.