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“Trust me. I will satisfy you.”
Nervousness fluttered in her belly. “You really don’t hurt?”
He offered a slow grin, full of mischief. “That’s what I like about you.”
“What?”
“Is it a yes?”
He didn’t want to answer her question, and she wasn’t about to stand there arguing. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 9
Jasmeka heard some kind of commotion down below as she stepped out of the shower. She wondered what could be going on. Someone shouted, and she could have sworn it was a woman’s voice. Aunt Rosa wouldn’t be yelling at anyone. When she wanted to get her point across, her voice turned to ice and froze everyone within its sound waves, and she didn’t raise it above a certain decibel.
After dragging on an old robe, the closest at hand, and leaving her hair hanging in wet clumps around her head, she hurried downstairs. All she could think about was that a deer had gotten into the house again like what had happened a few months ago.
A deer doesn’t sound like a woman, Jas.
She ignored the internal warning and headed toward the open front door. Now someone was about to hear her because she had pies to bake, and she did not need the house full of flies. An airport taxi sat in front of the steps, and the driver was busy hauling several pieces of luggage from the trunk. Jasmeka blinked. Surely, the family hadn’t invited a guest without telling her, so she could adjust the meals.
As she mentally reviewed her menus for the day, a pair of long sexy legs appeared from the back of the taxi. On dainty feet with silver-painted toes were high lace-up platform heels. Jasmeka let her gaze drift higher until she took in the full sight of the beautiful Latina woman who had arrived.
This woman was so tiny, hence the five-inch heels, and she hung onto Miguel’s arm and looked up at him as if she were totally open to whatever he had in mind for the two of them—especially if that something was activity in the bedroom. Jasmeka couldn’t believe the chok
ehold of jealousy she felt before the two of them glanced up to find her standing there. A second after later, she recalled that she was the poster child for hot messes with a ratty robe and a crazy hair.
“Who is this?” Jasmeka asked, and kicked herself for the tightness in her tone.
Miguel’s gaze met hers, but she couldn’t read a thing from his expression. He did extricate his arm from the visitor’s. Before he could speak, the woman rushed over to Jasmeka.
“Carmen Gomez. You’re the maid? Oh, I have so many bags. Please be careful. They’re expensive.” She called over her shoulder to Miguel in Spanish. “Shouldn’t your help be dressed by now?”
Miguel started to speak, but Jasmeka cut him off and spoke to Ms. Thing in Spanish. “You’re in Texas now. We’re a lot more laid back than where you come from, and I’d suggest you be a little more respectful because this ‘help’ is going to be handling your food.”
Carmen paled, and her eyes grew round. “You speak—”
“Yeah, I do, and I almost never let anyone get under my skin.” This woman must be someone important in Miguel’s life, yet he had kept her a secret. He ragged on his father and David about their lifestyles, and here he was doing the same thing.
“Jas,” Miguel began.
She walked into the house and slammed the door in their face. Technically, he was her boss, and she probably shouldn’t have done that, but she couldn’t take another second of Carmen. Not dressed the way she was. As she headed up the stairs to her bedroom, she lectured herself.
“You are not going to put on a dress, hot curl your hair, and wear heels and pantyhose, Jas. I don’t care who’s here. Don’t give in!”
Her position required her to be on her feet all day, and heels were out. Especially since she had a catering job to prepare for. Just because Carmen made her feel ugly didn’t mean she had to give in to the emotions.
She removed her robe in her room and yanked on some undies and a bra. A sound behind her brought her around, and she gasped to find Miguel had followed her. His gaze swept her form, settling on her hips and thighs for a second and then moved back to her face.
“Get out of here, Miguel. I’m trying to get dressed. Go figure out where your girlfriend will sleep because the guestroom is being used for storage right now.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“I suppose you want her in your room.” She turned to her closet to grab a blouse. With her arms and legs bare, she felt exposed.
He grasped her arm to keep her from moving away. “I said she’s not my girlfriend.”
“Could have fooled me. Please let me go because I don’t need anyone walking in on us with me dressed like this.”
