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Instead, he grabbed her arm and turned her back to face him. “You will be there at eight-thirty. We will commence at nine. If it takes a whole night of public performances, you will stay until we know who and what we are dealing with.”
She jerked from his grasp. “Don’t presume to tell me what to do.”
“Shanna, can you really afford to be impractical and put on your bitch armor with me?”
No.
“I know that is not you,” he murmured. “I seek only to help you.”
Still, she raised her chin, refusing to back down. “Whatever. If it amuses you to play the caveman—”
“It does not.” He leaned close and whispered for her ears only, “But it intrigues me to see you hide from me and the pleasure you know I am going to give you when I have you naked and under me again.”
Hours later, Shanna had showered, changed, and run errands. Life was normal…and yet she was still both seething and overheated by Alejandro’s arrogant comments. How could the man manage to irritate and arouse her in a single sentence? For that matter, why did he always incite conflict inside her?
Argh! She needed to forget him.
Her doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Probably someone trying to sell her something, maybe Girl Scout cookies. One of the neighbor kids had been selling them yesterday, and the thought of indulging in mindless sugar perked her up.
Shanna opened the door.
Someone stood on the other side, all right. It sure wasn’t a Girl Scout.
“Alejandro.” His name slipped out as a whisper.
“Good evening, querida.”
When he murmured that endearment, she melted. Every time. “Don’t call me that.”
“It bothers you when I call you darling? Why?”
“I am not your darling. We are working together to solve a common problem.”
“We are. But I fail to see how that must be the end of it.”
Shanna opened her mouth to set him straight, but Alejandro cut her off. “Though I am sure you will invent some reason, but for now, let’s not argue. I came to talk.”
With narrowed eyes, she tried to gauge his sincerity. “Just talk?”
“Nothing more.”
She didn’t quite believe him, but he’d roused her curiosity. What could he possibly have to say to her?
“All right. Come in.” She stepped back to admit him.
Alejandro shook his head and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Not the club,” she warned him.
He shook his head. “Not the club.”
Now she was really curious.
Sliding into the sandals she kept by the door, she grabbed her purse and keys off the nearby table. “Will it take long?”
“Hot date tonight?”
His words mocked her. As if he knew that she could hardly wrap her mind around her interest in him, much less imagine being attracted to anyone else right now.
“With dreamland, yes. I’m tired.”
“And I am here to cheer you up.” He held out his hand to her again.
This time she took it and let herself out the door. “Where are we going?”
“The nature of a surprise is that you should be surprised.”
“So you won’t tell me?”
He shook his head, sending her a dazzling, unrepentant smile as they walked toward the condo complex’s parking lot. “That would spoil it.”
“You know that annoys me.”
“I know you are used to being in control and making all the decisions. A little relaxation will be good for you.”
People had been saying that to her for years. Generally, she ignored them.
“That’s your opinion.”
“And you cannot change it.”
“Okay, but you’re wrong.”
“How about humoring me, then? Pretend.”
She rolled her eyes, holding in a smile. He was persistent, if nothing else. “Whatever.”
Alejandro sliced her a victorious grin but wisely said nothing more.
When they reached the parking lot, he lifted his key fob and pressed a button. A sleek, black Mercedes convertible, so new it still bore the temporary plates, beeped and flashed its lights a few feet away.
Business at the club must be very good to afford the old place that housed their business and four-wheeled trinkets like this.
He assisted her into the car, then rounded the car to the driver’s side, and eased in. “My father was a wealthy man.”
“What?”
“I saw the way you looked at my car. I believe you had similar thoughts about the club. I am answering your unspoken question. My father was a wealthy man, and he left me his fortune.”
“Not your mother?”
He shrugged and started the car. “I am the only part of him my mother will have anything to do with.”
“They divorced?”
“In the Catholic church, no. They separated when I was twelve.” He backed out of the parking space and steered into the gorgeous summer night.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You cannot like someone you do not know.”
He wanted her to like him?
“My father was a philandering bastard, if you wished to know why they split up. I remember my mother’s tears many nights when my father did not come home. They became my tears, too. He acted as if his affairs were both common and acceptable. Perhaps that was so in their generation… Perhaps it was accepted in his native Argentina…”
