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“How do you forget the sound, the shrieking brakes and the loudness of the collision? Even crushed, the pickup truck bounced into the air and landed with a bang.”
Santos smoothed her hair. “Let’s think about something else. I weighed five pounds less than I usually do at the doctor’s office this morning, so you’re clearly a great personal trainer.”
“I can’t take the credit.”
“Why not? I hired you to make certain I’d still fit into my clothes, and it’s working.”
She leaned close to whisper, “Only because I have you out of them so often.”
“Your methods may be unorthodox, but they’re effective.”
She appreciated his teasing tone, but she had the horrible feeling the danger stalking him hadn’t passed.
When they got home, Manuel helped Santos up the stairs. At the top, Santos caught Libby’s hand. “Come into my room. I’ve been working on the ‘Matador Blues’, and I want your opinion.”
She seriously doubted it but understood his true intentions and followed. He took his place on the bed leaning against the headboard, and she circled the bed to climb up beside him. She remembered the chorus. “I was wrong all the time, and every mistake was mine.” Even if she didn’t sound as good as he did, she remembered the tune. “That would be good in a duet, with the woman echoing the man’s apology and adding her own.”
He nodded. “I could tell the story in a dozen ways, but I was wrong all the time, and every mistake was mine.”
“I love listening to you sing.” His accent made the words melt on his tongue. He had every advantage, and she hadn’t done a damn thing to resist him. She wasn’t in the least bit ashamed either. “Put down the guitar.”
He could barely contain the width of his grin. “I thought you loved hearing me sing.”
“I do, but right now, I need a more compelling distraction.”
“Distraction is a difficult word to use in lyrics.” He leaned the guitar against the nightstand and pulled her close. “I hope the man isn’t dead.”
“Is that your idea of a distraction?”
“No, I want this whole ordeal over so we can stop looking over our shoulders and just live.” He rolled over to trap her beneath him and nuzzled her throat. “Is this better?”
“For a start.” She slid her hands under his shirt. “I’d thought of asking Tomas to stop making desserts, but if you’re wasting away, the calories won’t matter.”
He nibbled her earlobe. “To be healthy, I should eat more protein and vegetables.”
She giggled. “I’m not a vegetable.”
He licked her lower lip. “Should I consider you in the protein category?”
She moved her hips to rub his erection. “We’re both all protein.”
He rubbed his thumb over the lace shielding her peaked nipple. “Even the soft, delicious parts?”
“Every one. Take off your shirt.”
He moved aside. “Only if you take off yours.”
She cupped his crotch and felt the heat through his jeans. “Do you really want to waste time playing with our clothes?”
He closed his eyes and moaned. “I haven’t wasted a second with you.”
She rolled to her side, raised his shirt and placed a noisy, sloppy kiss in his navel. “I’m about to overdose on your cologne. Better rescue me quick.”
He peeled off his shirt and shoes, then stood to shuck off his jeans, but he took care with his healing knee. “I may not be quick, but I’m thorough.”
She’d worn a short white skirt that would have been easy to remove had she wanted to try on clothes, and her yellow sweater. She tossed them over the nearby chair and left on her pearl pink lingerie. The hungry gleam in his eyes prompted her to slip out of her panties before she crawled back up on the bed.
“I promise to keep my eyes closed if you’ll drop the bra.”
