The Wrong Man (2 page)

Ryan, a good-looking man with dark hair and intense blue eyes, and Shawna, always with a ready smile on her smooth, brown face, had been married almost three years. They lingered in the honeymoon phase, forever staring at each other with puppy-dog eyes, as if no one else existed in the world but the two of them.

Their twenty-month-old son, Ryker, so named because all the men in his father’s family had a name that began with the letter “R,” ran around on the neat lawn with a couple of other kids. With his curly hair and light brown skin resembling an even, all-over tan, he represented a blend of both parents’ complexions and features.

The most recent addition to their small family lay cradled in Shawna’s arms—ten-month-old Madison, feeding herself from a bottle. She chugged away, all the while staring intently up at her mother, giving the impression she understood what Shawna was saying.

Shawna’s ponytail swung from side to side as she laughed and shook her head against whatever Ryan had said, before punching him lightly in the shoulder. He caught her hand and held onto it. Talia smiled—it was impossible not to—but watching them together made her insides twist painfully, a strong reminder of her newly single status.

The deep timbre of a man’s laughter in the hall caught her attention, and she knew right away who had arrived. Oddly, her pulse jumped a little at the sound of his voice.

Sure enough, in walked Tomas Molina, six feet two inches of flirtatious male. Wearing a pair of snug fitting jeans on his long legs and a black T-shirt that stretched over his powerful chest, he already had women eyeing him as if they wanted to take a bite out of him instead of the food on their plates. Natural blonde highlights streaked through his brown hair, which always had a slightly disheveled look, giving him the appearance of someone who’d just rolled out of bed. At least today he’d pulled the unruly shoulder length locks into a decent-looking ponytail.

One woman stroked his ripped bicep, and he flexed the muscle for good measure. “
Buenos días
, Tomas,” she purred.

He flashed an open, friendly smile. “
Buenos días
. ¿
Estas bien
?”

“
Sí, gracias
.”

Rolling her eyes, Talia picked up a Styrofoam plate and began to spoon potato salad onto it. The way women fawned all over him disgusted her, and he lapped up the attention like a true narcissist. She heard him exchange pleasantries with a few other guests while she lifted the plastic wrap on another container and added coleslaw to her plate.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tomas stroll over with a lazy gait. “Well, well, Talia Jackson is here.” He peered out the kitchen window at the sky. “No. No pigs are flying.” His Spanish-accented voice, low and husky, reminded her of the actor William Levy.

She and Tomas seldom spoke, but whenever they did, he always had something smart alecky to say. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what she’d done to make him pick on her all the time. Probably because he was an arrogant chauvinist and she had no qualms about calling him on it. Fortunately she knew how to dish the witty retorts as well as he did.

“Oh look,
another
T-shirt. What a surprise.”

He apparently never met a T-shirt he didn’t want to own, and it seemed his entire wardrobe consisted of them in all colors. He wore them so tight they banded around his large biceps and molded to the contours of his muscular chest.

Unfazed, he responded, “You notice what I wear? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” Talia said.

He folded his arms and leaned a hip against the counter. “I’m surprised you came.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here for my friends’ housewarming party?”

He shrugged. “You’re such a busy woman. You hardly ever hang out, and every year Shawna invites you to my picnic on Memorial Day weekend, but you never come.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re disappointed I don’t.” She lifted the aluminum foil on another container, and when she found the baked chicken, she added a leg to her plate. “Tell you what, I’ll come this year so you won’t feel so neglected.”

“I like it better that you don’t,” he said.

“
Riiight
.” She smirked at him and added corn on the cob to her plate.

She felt his gaze on her, and a prickling sensation crawled up the back of her neck. He had a way of looking at women as if he was undressing them with his eyes. She didn’t know if he did it on purpose or not, but it made her feel stripped bare in his presence. Every time he came near, she became hyper-aware of him and a little anxious, a little…breathless. Even his voice made her feel odd. She liked the sound of his rich baritone too much, and the physiological responses she experienced at his proximity were clearly inappropriate.

“We should call a truce,” he said.

“Are we at war?”

He chuckled. “You always have an answer, don’t you? No, we’re not at war. At least, I don’t want to be. We should try being friends since our best friends are married to each other.”

“That would be boring, wouldn’t it, if we got along?”

“So you like fighting with me, is that it?” His eyes mirrored the question. They stood out against his swarthy skin, and she wondered how she’d never noticed how attractive they were before. Light brown. No flecks of green or other colors, only a pure, antiqued gold like a strong whiskey.

Did she like arguing with him? Maybe she did. Their sparring matches always left her buzzing with energy afterward, and after the meeting with her grandmother, she welcomed the interaction.

“Even if I do,” she said, “you like it way more than I do. You’re always the one who gets the fights started, like you did a minute ago.”

“Only because you need it.”

“Need it?” Talia cocked an eyebrow. “You have to explain what you mean.”

“You’re one of those women who can get out of hand, so I have to keep you grounded. You have a…
cómo se dice
? Oh, I remember.” He snapped his fingers. “You have a Napoleon complex.”

She shot him her
Are-you-for-real?
look. “I don’t think so.”

“Yes, you do. It’s because you’re so short.” He sliced his hand horizontally from his nose over the top of her head. “See?”

Talia stood up straighter, as if she could grow taller by sheer will power. “I do not have a Napoleon complex, and anyway, I’m pretty sure that only applies to men.”

He looked amused. “No, I’m sure the complex applies to women, too. I have a perfect example standing right in front of me. How’s the weather down there?”

She cut her eyes at him and continued searching for food.

“No response? I’m so disappointed,” he said.

“I’m ignoring you for the rest of the day.”

“This is a first. I silenced Talia Jackson all by myself, and I didn’t need to tape her mouth. I should make an announcement.” He picked up a piece of baked chicken with his hand.

“
There are tongs
.” Talia held up a set. “What are you, a barbarian?”

“We called a truce, remember?” He bit into the chicken and winked.

She stared at him for a moment and then shook her head, laughing. He was so ridiculous. How freeing it must be to do as you please and not worry about what others think.

She noted the expression on Tomas’s face but couldn’t decipher the look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He took another bite of chicken and finished chewing before he answered her question. He grinned. “You should smile more.”

Chapter Three

Tomas almost laughed out loud at Talia’s stunned expression. Priceless.

The ice princess wasn’t so icy after all. He’d obviously given her something to think about. With a quirk of his brow he tossed the bone in the trash before grabbing a napkin to wipe his hands. He went out the back door, leaving her behind. She could think about what he’d said while he relaxed outside with Shawna, Ryan, and William.

Greeting his friends, he dragged a chair over to the table to join the conversation.

“I like the new place,” he said, dropping into the seat.

“Thanks,” Ryan said. “If she’ll stop buying stuff, maybe one of these days we’ll be settled in and comfortable.” He placed a hand on his wife’s denim-clad knee.

“Don’t listen to him,” Shawna said. On her lap, Madison gnawed her chubby fingers, observing the adults around the table with big brown eyes, uncannily similar to her mother’s. A pink headband partially covering her curly black hair matched the pink and white onesie she wore. “Of course I’m going to pick up things to decorate the house, but he’s the one with the problem. He’s already built a wardrobe for the baby room, but that’s not enough. He insists we need to redo the walk-in closet in the master bedroom because he hates those iron thingy shelves, and he wants to replace all the cabinets in the kitchen and bathrooms.”

“The craftsmanship just isn’t there,” Ryan explained. “But other than the storage situation, we love the house.”

They all laughed. Ryan made custom furniture and tended to be more critical than the average person about woodwork, but Tomas understood. He often critiqued homes he entered because he built houses.

“I thought Talia would be here by now,” Shawna said, looking toward the house.

“She’s inside,” Tomas said.

“Oh, she’s here? I didn’t know.”

“I don’t think she’s been here long. She was putting a plate together when I saw her.”

Shawna stood and placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I’m going to check on her and see how she’s doing. You want anything while I’m inside?”

“What about me?” William spread his arms wide, pretending to look offended but not quite succeeding.

“Aren’t you supposed to be putting together the scavenger hunt for the kids?”

William groaned. “I don’t know why I let Yvonne talk me into overseeing the hunt. This is my first weekend off from the hospital in weeks, and I still have work to do.” He was a doctor at Northside Hospital.

“You better hurry up before she finds out you haven’t hidden those items,” Shawna warned, the corners of her mouth lifting into a soft smile.

Still muttering to himself, William rose from the table and headed to the house. Shawna raised an inquiring brow at Ryan to get an answer to her question.

“I don’t need anything. Thanks, love,” he said.

She dropped a kiss on his lips before following William, and Tomas watched Ryan watch her walk across the lawn. When she disappeared into the house, Ryan finally turned his head in Tomas’s direction.

“Ryan, you’re a lucky man.”

He laughed. “Don’t I know it.”

“So tell me about the job.” Tomas worked as a foreman for a residential housing contractor, but he also took side jobs to supplement his income. Ryan had mentioned a possibility earlier on the phone.

Ryan pulled a folded piece of notebook paper from his pocket. “Here’s the name of the guy and the address. He wants to knock out a wall between the kitchen and dining room. I went by there to take a look and you could probably complete the job in a couple of weekends. Once you’re done with the renovations, I’ll install the cabinets.”

“Thanks.” Tomas tucked the note into his pocket. He could always count on Ryan to send him business. “So what’s the deal with Talia?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“What do you mean?”

“Are she and her husband really having problems?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard? They got a divorce. It became final about a month ago.”

“You’re kidding.” Tomas leaned forward. “They were married for what—ten years? That’s a long time.”

“It didn’t work out.” Ryan shrugged.

He mulled over this new information. “How old is she? Late twenties, right?”

“Twenty-nine.”

That made Tomas four years older than her.

“If I remember correctly,” Ryan continued, “Her grandmother introduced her and her husband at some political function during her freshman year in college, and they got married the following year. They work together now, which I bet must be pretty awkward.” Ryan sipped his beer. “He’s a bit older than her, too—around forty-three, forty-four, something like that.”

Tomas stroked his chin. He’d never met the man, only heard about him. The times he’d seen Talia at social gatherings, she’d always been alone. “Do you know him well?”

Ryan shook his head. “Not really. I met him a few times. Shawna knows him better than I do since she and Talia have been friends for a few years.”

He’d heard the story of how the two women met. Talia had gone shopping in Shawna’s clothing boutique one day and they’d hit it off.

Tomas glanced back at the house. “Divorced. Huh.”

What had happened? Was it the husband’s fault? Their split certainly didn’t have anything to do with Talia letting herself go. Her makeup was always immaculate, and today her thick hair flowed down her back in black, glossy waves. From the day he’d met her, not once had he ever seen a strand out of place. He wondered fleetingly if it felt as soft as it looked.

She always smelled so damn good, too, and had a queenly bearing which added to the impression of aloofness that surrounded her. Yet she wasn’t aloof at all. Quiet would be a better word to describe her personality because she always spoke to anyone who spoke to her, but she never seemed quite comfortable at their social gatherings and tended to stick to the people she knew well.

She had a musical quality to her voice, even when she ripped him a new one. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t resist harassing her every time he saw her. He wanted to hear that sweet voice. With her catlike eyes and dark umber skin glowing like polished stone, she was easily the most striking woman at the gathering and exuded a confidence that had always made him pay extra attention to her. And those rose-tinted lips—full, puckered. Damn, her ex-husband had been a lucky son of a bitch for ten years.

He intended to ask Ryan another question when his gaze collided with his friend’s disapproving blue eyes.

“No,” Ryan said.

“No, what?”

“No, you can’t date her. No, I won’t hook you up because she’s one of Shawna’s best friends and Shawna would kill me. And no, you can’t date her.”

“You don’t have to say it twice.”