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“I have a sister, and my parents live in a small house over on the west side of town. You’ll get to meet Katrenda soon. She had to take care of some stuff for our mom. Funny enough, what you said sounds like her. She’s always saying I’m throwing my life away for a family that’s not mine.”
He studied her face. The narrow chin came up, and a stubborn expression lit her beautiful eyes. He had the feeling nothing anyone said would influence her once she had set her mind on a task. Perhaps he should be grateful Thiago had her around, someone strong. He had nothing against his little brothers or against Aunt Rosa, so at least they could be helped.
“I suppose I could use a cola,” he said.
She hooked a thumb toward the fridge as she added sugar to her tea. “Help yourself. You’re home.”
He hesitated. “I’m a visitor, even if I am related.”
She held the mug to her lips. Over rising steam, the brown eyes examined him. He didn’t feel awkward at all but let her look. As he expected, her gaze flitted from his face to his chest and downward toward his jeans. He’d slipped back into them before leaving the room but left the belt off. The heavy denim hung low on his hips. Too bad he’d also pulled on a T-shirt or he would give her more to look at.
Once again, he thought of Carmen and how quickly he’d gone to desiring a new woman. He didn’t want to think he was like his dad or David. He’d been faithful to Carmen as long as he called her lover. Maybe it was a good thing he’d broken it off.
Or could it be Jasmeka’s allure? Would making love to her be radically different than what I’ve experienced so far?
Jasmeka grabbed a cola from the fridge for him, and they headed outside. As soon as he opened the door, the night sounds assaulted him along with the humid heat lingering from the day. He paused, looking left and right for one of the lounge chairs with a seat cushion still on it.
“Oh crud,” Jasmeka said. “I forgot I took the cushions in. Let me go get a couple.”
An impulse hit him, and he grasped her wrist to stop her. “I’ve got a better idea. The hammock.”
She might have frowned. Her face wasn’t very illuminated in the moonlight. “We can’t both get on it.”
“It’s big enough for three or four.”
“But—”
He took her mug from her and set it on the windowsill near where the hammock hung from the verandah’s ceiling. After sitting his cola next to it, he held the hammock still, waiting for her to climb on. Miguel hadn’t known her long, but he could read people fairly well. Jasmeka was probably the type of person who would take a challenge thrown out to her every time.
She climbed on, careful not to let her nightie rise. Too bad. He took in the sight of her rounded rear as she positioned herself first on hands and knees and then flipped over to lie down. A powerful desire came on him to forget about lying beside her and just mount her. She’d no doubt fight him off, so he resisted and settled with his hip pressing against hers. Unless he missed his guess, a small shiver ran through her.
“Tren and me used to do this as kids.” She wiggled her fingers toward her mug, and he reached across to get it for her. “Thanks.”
“I thought you said you’ve only worked for my family ten years. You can’t convince me you’re younger than twenty-five.”
She grumbled. “I’m twenty-nine, and I meant at my parents’ house. They have a small hammock that’s big enough for two wild little girls. After we ripped and ran all over creation, we came home and lay in that hammock until my mom demanded we go to bed. Tren would get me to tell her all about my dream, and I’d give her the details until we started to nod off.”
Curiosity rose in him, making him forget his desire for the moment. He didn’t suppose she wanted to grow up and become someone’s maid. “Your dream?”
“To own my own restaurant. I loved to cook even then. I actually do a little catering on the side right now.”
“Interesting.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
She rolled to an elbow and seemed to try to see him in the dim lighting. “Do you like your job?”
He smirked. “You mean am I a cowboy at heart, running away to work as a Marshall?”
“You said it, not me.”
“I’m doing an important job.”
“Now that’s a copout.”
He sighed and answered her question although he didn’t know why he should. He didn’t owe her an explanation of his decisions or of his life. Something about her drew him to talk about himself, at least a little.
