Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3) (6 page)

"That sounds great. I don't suppose I could negotiate for another brownie?"

Pausing in the hallway, she studied his hopeful expression before bursting into laughter, her tension dissolving.

"What?" He shrugged. "They were really good."

"My mother will be pleased to hear. I made them from her recipe." The realization that Jeff possessed a sweet tooth like Hector made her smile.

"Do your parents live close by?" 

She shook her head. "Near Baltimore. We try to get everyone together at least once a month for family dinner."

"Sounds like a big family. Brothers or sisters?" Jeff seemed to fill the doorway when he leaned against the frame and she took a tiny step backward into the kitchen.

"I have two sisters and one brother. My older brother, Manuel and an older sister, Caridad." She ticked them off on her fingers. "Then I'm in the middle and finally, my baby sister, Serafina."

"Pretty names," he acknowledged. "I'm one of three. Andrea is the oldest, then Jake, then me. And my cousin Harrison is like a brother to us. He basically grew up in our house."

"Does everyone work for Specialty?"

"Jake runs the show. Harrison manages accounting and I head up estimating."

"And Andrea?"

"She works in marketing, but only part-time. Her girls are teenagers now, but she always wanted to be there when they got off the bus." Jeff took a step into her kitchen and she took another step back. "Tell me about your parents. Where is Ortega from?"

She smiled. "We are the definition of an American family. My father is Cuban, but born here— in Miami. He works for a defense contractor near D.C."

"And your mom?"

"My mother is Bridget. They met at Florida State. She has flaming red hair and blue eyes. We're all a weird blend of Cuban and Scottish."

He grinned over her word choice. "What's weird about that?"

"Well, I have a sister with strawberry blond hair, a brother who looks Hispanic like me— except for our eyes and a sister with red hair and dark eyes like Dad. You should see the family portrait."

He took a step closer. "The way I see it— you get that beautiful, golden skin from your dad and your amazing eyes from your mom." 

"I . . . thank you. I-I guess so." Mari drew in a steadying breath, the compliment sending a jolt through her system. When it came to flirting, she was seriously out of practice. "Why— don't I get our drinks? We can sit in the living room. It's just down the hall." She ducked into the pantry, suddenly in serious need of regrouping.

"Why don't I help?"

To her dismay, Jeff followed her into the tiny space. Great— now she had a large, attractive man crowding the suddenly claustrophobic room. She adored her cottage and all of its charming nooks, but her pantry left much to be desired.

Again, she wondered why she was so thrown off balance by a few compliments. Lord knew she'd heard it all before— from guys just like him. Only this wasn't just another guy. This was the man she'd been thinking about— for weeks. Against her will. His smile— and that dimple— had slipped into her subconscious and wormed their way into her brain.

Scooping a few brownies onto a plate, Mari was supremely conscious of him watching her actions. Her pulse skittered with anticipation— or perhaps it was fear. This date had been a big step. One she'd been nervous to take. Out of habit, she licked the chocolate crumbs from her fingers.

"You can take these into the living room. I'll be there in a moment." She spoke over her shoulder as she opened the refrigerator to retrieve a beer. She'd already decided on water for herself.
Cold
water. With lots of ice.

When she extracted herself from the fridge, she discovered him standing right behind her. She was good and wedged— the counter at her back and Jefferson standing before her. "What are you doing?"

His gaze locked with hers, Jeff carefully set the plate on the counter and took a step closer. "The way I figure it— we're both wondering what it will be like when I finally kiss you. I thought maybe . . . we should just get it out of the way now."

Her breath caught in her throat. It was suddenly overly warm in her too small kitchen. "Actually, I-I'm not wondering at all," she lied. Her face heated with embarrassment.

Jeff's eyes snapped with humor as he examined her face before slowly grinning. "I'm gonna call liar on that statement. Possibly even 'pants on fire'." 

"I do not lie." Except perhaps to herself. Because kissing him sounded like an amazing idea. A spectacular idea. He took a step closer and Mari's pulse ricocheted. "I don't think this is-" He reached out, gently tucking a strand of seriously out-of-control hair behind her ear. She gulped in a breath of air. "-a good idea."

"Soft and beautiful." Jeff acted as though he hadn't heard her. His hand slid around to cradle her head, his fingers tugging through the weight of her curls before they paused to massage her nape. Mari had to bite back a groan over the sensual touch.

"I've been imagining this for at least a month," he muttered.

"Y-you have?" It took real effort not to lean into his hand. As she stood between his feet, his free hand traced lightly down her arm. His fingers trailed a shivery path along her skin. The sensation of those large, capable hands on her body was making it difficult to remember what she wanted to say.

"This is your fault, you know," he said absently as his fingers left her hair to feather along her jaw.

"What’s my fault?" Her heart was beating so loud Mari could barely hear him. She should have been panicking . . . yet she was honest enough to admit that all she could think about was how very much she wanted to kiss him.

"You said it earlier— all boys like chocolate." Leaning in, his beautiful eyes were sober as they watched her— giving her every opportunity to stop him if she desired. "Let's see if I can taste it on you."

"Jefferson, please-" she whispered against his lips before they brushed against hers. Marisol knew her plea was futile. She'd been fighting her attraction to him for weeks. His mouth was slow and deliberate— almost teasing her with his control. And she grew hypnotized by the sensation building within her. A blend of frustration and need and wanting.

The very moment he deepened the kiss, a shudder tore through her. He felt so good— so incredible that she forgot all about her initial reservations. With a heady sense of wonder, Mari realized she had never experienced anything like this before. When his arms tightened around her, she forgot everything except the amazing man— kissing her as though his life depended on it.

Jeff nudged her back against the counter, his mouth insistent. And when his tongue swept inside in search of hers, Mari met him eagerly. In the back of her brain, she heard him groan as she tasted him. When his lips left hers, she felt immediately bereft, until he trailed kisses down the side of her face. Shivering when his mouth found a sensitive spot on her throat, she cried out when his hand brushed against her breast through her suddenly constricting blouse.

Jeff believed he might actually be in shock— for there was no rational explanation for the mind-blowing sensation of kissing Marisol. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. He was gentle at first, almost afraid he would scare her— afraid his passion would overwhelm her and then he'd never get the opportunity again. He'd known she would be amazing— if only because he'd fantasized about this moment for the past month. He'd memorized every nuance of her face and now he was finally touching the soft skin he'd dreamed of.

When she'd challenged him, he'd been determined to seduce her slowly, to tease her and drive her as crazy as he'd begun to feel whenever he was near her. Her blush had told him everything her words denied. Though her beautiful eyes had flared with panic, they'd also revealed passion she wanted badly to hide.

His experiment had worked perfectly— until the moment she began to respond. And
whoa
— did she respond. Trouble was— he hadn't counted on going a little crazy himself. His control was something of a matter of pride. Countless women before Mari had left him unscathed. While he'd always enjoyed himself, he'd never experienced a need that couldn't be quenched rather quickly.

Until now. Awareness surged around them in a force field of sexual energy. He deepened the kiss, thrilled when Mari's arms crept up around his neck. She was actually trembling with need. Or hell— maybe that was him. Her soft whimper only pushed him closer to the precipice, imagining what it would be like when he finally made love to the beautiful woman in his arms. When she pressed herself against him, he nearly staggered over the sensation of her lush, perfect curves molded to him. Her warm, scented skin surrounded him, making him burn for more.

He'd never wanted a woman the way he wanted Marisol Ortega. As though it were a hunger. As though she'd somehow taken over a part of him. Jeff wanted to hold her and touch her until she melted against him and then he wanted to do it all over again.

When he found the sensitized skin of her throat, she shivered and clung to him- her hands everywhere. Jeff discovered he wanted her touch— needed it desperately. He knew he should stop, but hell if he wanted to. The soft throaty sound she made nearly sent him over the edge. He wanted to keep kissing her until-

Before she completely lost her mind, Marisol broke free of the force field. She wrenched from the embrace before realizing her arms were still locked around him. She used the last of her strength to push away from him. They were both breathing as though they'd run a marathon. It was a terribly small consolation that Jeff appeared to be equally shell-shocked.

"Jefferson-" Her voice held a frisson of pure panic Mari couldn't begin to hide. She slid away from him, the counter at her back to support still shaky legs, her heart racing. Dios— what could she be thinking? It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to feel anything for a man— and Jeff was an incredible man. But she was in danger of forgetting herself.

"I know." His voice was still whisper soft. "I should probably go."

She raised her fingers to swollen, sensitized lips. "I— I don't know what to say."

Jeff smiled over the croaking sound of her voice. "Don't say anything, sweetheart. I'll take a rain check on those brownies. I think I've had all the sweetness I can handle for one evening."

"I— I'll see you out." She bolted for the door, praying he would follow. If he kissed her again, Mari wasn't sure she would have the strength to resist.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he promised. She nodded, too afraid to say anything while she still felt so out of control of careening emotions. When he leaned in, she went completely still— until she saw his satisfied grin. Then she remembered to breathe.

"Good night, Mr. Traynor."

Before she could pull away, he brushed her lips once more before he reluctantly drew back. "Goodnight, Miss Ortega. I greatly enjoyed kissing you and I hope to do it again— very soon." 

He was rewarded with a crimson blush.

Chapter 4

Jeff checked his watch for the fifth time and groaned. Tossing his pencil on the unread specifications, he rose from his chair and stretched. So much for getting a jump on the week ahead. Instead, his Sunday was melting away. He should have accepted the invitation to Jake's to watch the ball game.

Instead— he'd driven to the office, sat down at his desk and proceeded to dissect his weekend with Mari. After a futile Friday night spent reliving each bone-melting kiss, he'd virtually guaranteed himself a sleepless night. And after imagining his hands on her amazing body, he'd required an icy blast in the shower to rein in his short-circuiting brain. By mid-morning Saturday, he'd been unable to suppress the urge to call her.

All his old rules— his modus operandi for nearly a decade— his guidelines for a pleasurable life— had gone up in smoke. Before Mari— as he was starting to view time— he never,
ever
would have called a woman the next day. Yesterday he hadn't even waited twelve hours. His friends would be so disappointed. Hell— he'd thrown the bro handbook out the window.

And he'd been grateful, damn it. Because thankfully, she'd picked up the phone. And then, as time stood suspended— she'd agreed to see him again. But he'd heard the reluctance in her voice. Jeff had the sneaking suspicion she'd only agreed because of Hector. Apparently, the little boy had pestered her from the moment he'd awakened Saturday morning. He'd be sure to thank Hector for that.

They'd spent several hours together in the park while he'd taught Hector the basics of baseball. Mari had packed a picnic lunch they'd enjoyed before the little guy had made a run for the swing set. Jeff had wasted no time closing the distance between them on the picnic blanket. With Hector in plain view, Mari had protested vigorously. Luckily, he'd persisted— but only in driving them both to the brink of sanity. As they'd both watched Hector, he'd stroked her back. He'd caressed the amazingly soft skin at the nape of her neck. He'd absorbed each shudder she experienced at his touch . . . heard each indrawn breath . . . watched sensual pink lips part . . . seen ocean blue eyes turn stormy with passion. And then they'd been interrupted by a sweet, energetic five-year old wanting a push on the swings. Mari had recovered quickly, laughter bubbling from her throat as he'd risen reluctantly from the blanket. But he'd needed the fifteen minutes with Hector to cool down.

Mari was definitely interested. That kiss in her kitchen Friday night had confirmed the attraction was not one-sided. Hell- he'd known he would go up in flames the moment he touched her. But he'd been relieved she'd felt the same. They'd been maddeningly close to the edge again Saturday. Jeff had held off for as long as— any normal human could deny himself something he wanted desperately. But even holding her hand as they strolled through the park had set his pulse thumping erratically. By the time he was finally able to kiss her, his gut had been knotted with anticipation.

And it had been fireworks all over again. He was honestly beginning to feel as though he'd never get enough of her. And what the hell did that mean? What was so special about her? His chair squeaked in protest when Jeff rose to stretch, giving in to sudden agitation. She'd become like a damned drug he couldn't get enough of. When they'd said goodnight on her doorstep, Mari had looked almost— afraid. As though she felt it, too. And was absolutely terrified by the chemistry between them. Not exactly a vote of confidence.

You should end it
. Jeff paced the length of his office. Twenty paces. He nodded. It was the sensible solution. They were in a working relationship. It had been a mistake— a huge mistake on his part. Twenty paces back. Mari was beautiful. She was gorgeous. Smart. Funny— He would like nothing more than to get her into bed-

Hell— that was the completely wrong visual to be scrolling through his brain now. Pivoting, Jeff paced to the far side of his office once again. But he absolutely, positively was
not
interested in getting serious. He wasn't even thirty yet. Despite their chemistry, Mari was the last woman he should be pursuing. She was dedicated to the shelter and her clients— bordering on workaholic, now that he thought about it.

Ironically, her work ethic was one of the things he admired about her. But that didn't make her right for him. Marisol wasn't like anyone he'd dated before. She had serious commitments. Which left little time for fun— with him. Jeff nodded. A relationship with her would be too much work. Too much planning. Releasing a deep breath, he felt his resolve return. He strolled back to his desk, feeling more in control. He had his answer. He should end it.

The women he usually settled for were ready for anything. It left Jeff free to plan or not plan. It left him free to call at the last minute— making certain nothing better came up that might be more fun. It left him free to decide whether he was even interested in putting out the effort— going through the motions— enduring an endless night of chick banter just to get laid.

Between their two schedules, he'd probably never see Marisol— even if he wanted to. Another reason she was wrong for him. His chair squeaked when he sat down, then protested when he bolted up again. He strode in the opposite direction - giving in to the restless impulse to move. He needed his freedom— his ability to pick up and go— to ride his motorcycle whenever he felt the urge. Not that he got the chance very often anymore. Work was usually too crazy for much time off.

Jeff paced a bit more. On top of that— she'd voluntarily accepted the burden of fostering Hector. Mari was what— twenty-seven, maybe? She had her whole life to tie herself down with a family. Why would she end her freedom so soon?

Although— her choosing to foster Hector made him like her even more. She was protective of those who couldn't protect themselves. She was passionate and dedicated. Unafraid of a challenge. She would gain custody of Hector because his drug addicted mother couldn't provide the environment he deserved. Mari would give him everything he needed and more. Jeff skidded to a stop. She would value him.

A relationship with her would never work. Jeff contemplated banging his head against the wall. Yeah— she was beautiful, passionate, dedicated and giving.
Who the hell wants a woman like that?
Feeling like an idiot, he stomped back to his desk and sat down.Retrieving a pencil from the plans he should have been reviewing, Jeff drummed it absently. Since Hector seemed to be fascinated by excavation, he'd managed to track down a kid sized hardhat for him to wear once they began construction at the shelter. They'd break ground in a few days-

A chill jagged down his spine. What the hell was he thinking? He'd only known Hector for a week. What was he doing— making plans for him? As though he had the right to. As though he'd be hanging out with the kid indefinitely. Jeff laid his head on the contracts he'd been reviewing and groaned. What was happening to him?

When his phone rang, he was almost relieved. "Traynor."

He smiled when he recognized his father's voice. It was about friggin' time. "Where have you been? I'm up to my eyes with your homeless shelter project." He jotted a few notes on the dog-eared pad on the corner of his desk. This was his chance— to extricate himself from the project. And from Mari's tempting clutches. "You're at Jake's? Yeah— I can make it. I'll be there in thirty minutes."

***

"What are all those deep thoughts making you scowl, mi hija dulce?"

Mari smiled. Even after all these years, she couldn't get used to her fiery-haired, freckle-faced, blue-eyed mother speaking Spanish. It always seemed so laughably out of context. "
My sweet daughter
? I sense serious prying coming my way."

"Joke if you want, but I know that expression." Bridget paused in setting the table. "Something is distracting you, and I don't think it's our Sunday afternoon pork roast."

Sighing, Mari passed her mother another place setting. Perhaps it was for the best she didn't see her family as often as she wished. It was easy to forget how well they all could read her. She'd accepted the invitation to dinner thinking the long drive to Baltimore would be a good way to take her mind off her problem. Yet even in the safe cocoon of her parents’ home, she could not escape thinking about Jefferson. About how good it felt to be in his arms. About how wonderful he was with Hector. About how much she already wanted to see him again. How if he'd called today— she would have said yes. And she wouldn't have tried to talk herself out of it.

And how utterly terrifying it was to realize that.

Her mother eyed her skeptically. "Something is bothering you, carina."

Why was she fantasizing about a relationship with a man who didn't 'do' relationships? She'd already run the gauntlet with Caridad. Thank goodness, Serafina hadn't arrived yet. "It's not important, Mom. You know me— I'm dwelling on something I can't control."

Panic flared in the older woman's eyes as she grabbed Mari's arm. "Lord— it's not Nick? He's not back— is he?" Her mother appeared ready to bolt into the living room and jerk her father from his armchair.

"Mom, calm down. I haven't heard from him— not in two years. It's all over." Guilt lanced her over the terror in her mother's voice.

Her mother released a steadying breath. It was several seconds before the fear dissolved from her eyes. Mari experienced a wash of shame. She'd forgotten how much her volatile relationship with Nick had affected her family. As the person who lived it, she'd borne the brunt of his abuse. But her mother— her sisters— had been victims as well. From witnessing the physical damage he'd inflicted, to dealing with her emotional baggage in the aftermath.

Her sisters had also paid a price in their parents’ hyper vigilance. Their dating lives had been shoved under a microscope. Between Manuel and her father— no Ortega girl in the dating pool had left their apartments without the distinct possibility of being tailed. The sisters held strong suspicions their father had called in favors to have background checks performed on one of Caridad’s boyfriends and several of Serafina’s dates.

"Is it Hector's mother? We'll all be there for you, carina. Whatever you need."

Relieved, Mari took the easy way out. "Yes," she lied. Under no circumstances did she want to discuss Jeff. Her feelings were too new— too strange. "Just nervous about the hearing."

"But that's months away, love. Shelve your worries until the time gets closer."

She leaned in to kiss her mother's cheek. "You're right, Mom. I’ll try. Is Sera showing up today? I'm starving."

Thankfully, Bridget Ortega's scattered thoughts turned to her youngest. "You know Fifi— she'll bolt in at the last minute claiming one distraction or another. She's always late." 

"Mari, I'm hungry." Hector chose that moment to bound into the dining room. "When is supper?"

Bridget mussed his hair, smiling when he protested. "Your aunt is late again, querido."

Hector frowned. "Serafina is always late. I think we should eat without her." He peeked into the kitchen. "I want to have cake and I can't have it 'til I eat the vegetables. I need to get started."

Bridget chuckled as she reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone. "Here, love. Call your auntie and tell her she needs to get here, pronto."

***

Mari rinsed the last dish and placed it in the dishwasher. It had been a perfect day. A loud, delicious dinner with her family, Caridad's fabulous cake and Hector nearly droopy with fatigue after playing in the yard with Manny and her father. Hopefully, he would sleep most of the way home. She was just about to rap on the window to signal it was time to leave when they came storming through the screen door.

Manuel dropped a kiss on top of her head. "So, little sister— what's this I'm hearing about the new man in your life? Do I need to schedule a trip to Arlington to check him out?"

She drew in a startled breath as the after dinner racket died away. She turned in the sudden stillness to face the stunned expressions of her mother and sisters— and the quiet intensity of her father. Silverware stopped clanging into the drawer. Caridad stopped tickling Serafina. Her mother froze, dish towel in hand, an expression of horror on her face— as though Manny’s announcement had been about her posing for a men’s magazine instead of about a pizza date.

Before she found her voice, Hector piped in. "He's Jeff. He's really good at baseball . . . an' he promised to teach me. An' he's buildin' Mari's addition. He even said I could help."

Caridad was the first to recover. With ginger hair like their mom, her eyes were a copy of her father's serious brown ones. A conversation with her was like tackling both parents at once. "Oh, really? Tell us more, Hec. Your mommy has been here all day but she somehow forgot to mention him to us."

Hector innocently obliged. "He took us for pizza on our first date. And then he took us to the park. And then he took us to the park again yesterday. We had a picnic and I went on the swings."

Mari finally found her voice. "Hector, please go get your backpack ready. We're leaving in ten minutes to drive home."

Serafina waited for him to leave the room before she pounced. "Ooh— sissy's got a boyfriend."

"He's not my-"

"What's he look like? Is he cute? Tall?" Her sister's eyes lit up. "Is he rich?" Her younger sister scarcely came up for breath. Painfully aware of her father's suddenly intense interest, she answered carefully. "His name is Jeff-"