Lawmakers (10 page)

She worked through the rest of the day, gathered her belongings, and left the office. At home in her apartment, she took a shower and pulled on a robe as she sorted through the dresses in her closet. Nothing appealed because nothing fit as well as she would have liked. Most of what she could fit back in college squeezed the life out of her now because she had put on twenty pounds, and she’d been too damn heavy then. Sure, her budget afforded her a shopping expedition, but who wanted to get solid evidence that she had gone up a size.
Or two.

Her cell phone buzzed, and she moved to the bedside table to check the display. Uncle Leonard. She gave herself a little shake and then answered. “Hey, Uncle Leonard, how are you?”

“Huh?” he shouted, and she winced, pulling the phone away from her ear. She dialed down the volume to half way.

“I said, hi,” she repeated. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I was just checking on you, Della. I miss not seeing you every day. Are you working?”

She sank onto the bed and crossed her legs. “No, I’m bumming on the street.”

“Huh?”

She chuckled. “I said yes. Everything is going great, uncle. I’ll be by this weekend to check on you. Are you listening to your nurse?”

“Bah! She doesn’t know anything. I’m smarter than her I tell you, and I’m healthier than a man half my age.”

Della knew that wasn’t true. From the sound of it, her uncle was having a good day, but cancer had ravaged his body, and he refused treatment. He pretended not to be in pain, but she knew differently. The last time she visited him, he had winced every so often, and she had lectured him about getting chemo. The stubborn goat had turned down his hearing aid and pretended to nap. Della could do nothing because despite being old as dirt, the man was in his right mind. He could not be forced to do what he didn’t want to. At least she had convinced him to get a nurse, which he liked to call a companion.

The bell rang, and she swore. Had she lost track of time? She glanced at the clock and found she had another hour. Brent shouldn’t be there that early. “Someone’s at the door, Uncle Leonard. Let me talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay, Della. Look through the peephole first. You never can tell.”

She laughed. “I will. I’ll call you before bed. Bye.”

“All right.” He hung up. Her uncle had never said bye no matter how many times she said it.

The bell rang again, and she tightened the tie on her robe before jogging out to answer. Just as Uncle Leonard reminded her, she checked the peephole and found flowers taking up the space. Roses. That was a change for Brent. He went with wildflowers if he brought a gift, but it wasn’t often. The man had gone all out, she thought, amused.

“You’re early,” she said as she swung the door wide and then froze.

The man standing before her stole her breath away. He filled the space with a muscular build and tickled her senses with something like the Mediterranean sun, fruits, herbs, and even a hint of the woods. His dark suit fit his form to perfection. The bronzed skin, the white smile, and those eyes weakened her knees. She grabbed hold of the doorframe to keep herself from falling. Her heart at first hammered and then went so still, she wondered if it beat at all.

Della licked her lips and swallowed a few times. Her throat refused to moisten, so she forced words out anyway. “W-what are you doing here, Santi?”

Santi.
She hadn’t uttered the name in three long years, and saying it now brought tears to her eyes. If she thought she had gotten over him, she was sorely mistaken. Why? Was sex with him that good? No, if she was honest with herself, she would admit he was more than that. They had connected physically, sure, but he had been so attentive and understanding. He had listened when she spoke.
No, Della, hell to the no! Don’t even go there.

“I said why are you here?” she demanded in a firmer tone and blocked his path when he would have moved past her.

He offered her the roses, and she noticed a bottle of wine accompanied them. Santi had never failed to show up with gifts—not once. Della folded her arms beneath her breasts and stood her ground.

“I’ve come to get you,
cariño.
You’ve had long enough.”

Chapter Ten

Della sat shaking from head to toe on her couch, and she took the glass of water Santi handed her with trembling fingers. When she couldn’t get a grip, he sank beside her and guided the glass to her lips. She wanted to push him away but found no energy to do so. His presence overwhelmed her, especially with all the old emotions rising up to assault her mind.

“Drink,
cariño.
”

“Stop calling me that!”

I’m a respected attorney with important colleagues and even made a few high level connections. This man showing up will not bring me down.

“Della?”

She glared at him. He looked so good, her chest tightened.

“Do you want more?”

“No, I’m fine. I just had a dizzy spell. That’s all. I haven’t eaten.”

“Then I will take you to dinner.”

“No, you won’t. I’m waiting for your answer as to why after three years you’re showing up at my apartment that you shouldn’t even know about.”

“You are not in hiding, no?”

She despised his accent. Okay, she loved it, but she hated it because it belonged to him and reminded her of all the times he’d spoken to her in Spanish while they made love.

Don’t go there.

Della snatched the glass from him and sipped the water for lack of anything better to do. What she was most starkly aware of was the fact that she had no clothes on under the robe. Never mind that her boobs kept making the stupid thing gap open, and her hips were so much wider than the last time she’d seen him.

A repeat of the respected attorney lecture did nothing to change her state of mind.

Santi touched a lock of her hair, reminding her that it must look a hot mess as well. She had intended to shellac it down with gel and do something with a ponytail.

“I’ve missed you, Della.”

She scrambled for a defense against him even as she longed to jump onto his lap and kiss those perfect lips. “Well, I’m no longer on the market for you to play with. I will not be your entertainment while you’re here on business.”

“I’m not here on business.”

She waved her hand. “Whatever. Like I said, I’m not on the market.”

His eyebrows lowered over his eyes. “I don’t like that comparison.”

“What comparison?”

“You are not property to acquire.”

Della jumped to her feet and moved away from him. “Please, don’t even try to act like you care about me, Santi. It’s been three years, remember? Or something like that.” Too late, she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been counting the time they had been apart. In the beginning, it had been constant torment.

“Tell me what you mean by not being on the market.”

She spun to face him and raised her chin. “I’m getting married.”

“
Joder!
No!” He surged to his feet. “I won’t give you to anyone else.”

“Excuse me?” She put a hand on her hip. “You left me, and you just finished saying I’m not property, but you’re not
giving
me to anyone else? Sorry, pal, but you don’t have that right.”

Santi’s eyes shot fire as he approached her. She had never seen him angry, not once, and she backed up. He caught her wrist and dragged her to him. Della brought her other hand up in defense, but he trapped them both against his chest.

“S-Santi, let me go,” she pleaded. As she struggled, her robe opened even more, showing off the swell of her breasts. One false move, and a nipple would pop out. He noticed, the bastard, and anger transformed to lust. Della curled her fingers, hating how the heat from his body set her temperature rising. She stilled because the breaking point would be to feel his erection.

“
Pequeña flor,
if you don’t want me, say so, and I’ll go away.”

Little flower? He was killing her. Okay, all she had to do was say she didn’t want him, and it would be over. He would go back to Spain. Why was he there anyway? She was sure there were plenty of women in Spain and anywhere else he chose to travel in the world, women who would fall down at his feet.

“I…” She licked her lips. “Don’t…”

He covered her mouth with his, kissed her deeply, and then drew back enough to lave her lower lip. Della panted, eyelids heavy. He dipped his tongue into her mouth a second time and robbed her of the ability to speak. When he raised his head a few minutes later, she clung to him, gasping. Under her palms, Santi’s big chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. She felt his heartbeat pounding.

“
Qué delicioso!
Three years is a long time not to have you.”

She shivered. “That was your choice.”

“Si.”

His admittance hurt even though she’d known it was true. He chose to leave her. She tried getting out of his arms, but he refused to let go. “Stop this, Santi. You walked away, and you can’t come back here now like nothing happened.”

“
Si,
I let you go. For you.”

“No, you didn’t say that!”

He stepped back, and she breathed a sigh of relief. When she would have put more distance between them, he took her hand and guided her over to the couch. Against her will, he made her sit down, and he occupied the spot next to her, his thigh brushing hers.

“
Cariño,
you needed time to finish school and to work in your chosen field. I gave you that time.”

“So big of you.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry.”

She shook her head. “Wow, we’re seriously from two different cultures. I get now that it would never have worked. Me in Spain? That’s crazy. I was living in a fantasy world.”

“I’m frustrated by your reaction.”

She burst out with a humorless laugh. “
You’re
frustrated? That’s rich. First you say you came for me like I have no choice in the matter. Then you get confused because I’m not falling into your arms. I never saw how arrogant you are because I was so young, so in lo—um, I was stupid. Not now. Never again.”

He grasped her hands and peered deep into her eyes. “I was wrong to assume you felt the same for me as I still do feel for you, but I can tell the desire is there. I’m not giving up.”

Goose bumps popped out on her arms. “What are you saying?”

“I will win your heart again.”

“My heart?”

He started to answer, but the doorbell rang. Panic set in until she forced herself to calm down. Only
she
would have this kind of situation. Santi peered toward the door and stood when she did.

“Don’t say anything,” she told him and went to answer. This time she ignored the peephole and just yanked the door wide. Brent stepped in.

“Hey, baby.” He extended his hands to her waist and moved in as if to kiss her. Della ducked away. That’s when he noticed Santi, and rage transformed his face. “What the hell is he doing here?” Brent turned to Santi. “I thought you went home.”

Santi’s already bulky muscled form seemed to swell more. “
You’re
the one?”

“That’s right.” Brent grabbed her wrist and jerked her to him. “Della’s with me, where she belonged all the time. You can go back home.”

Della yanked free of Brent’s hold. “Stop it, you two. I don’t appreciate being treated like I’m not in the room or that I don’t have a choice in who I’m with. Brent, get a grip. Santi, go back to your hotel or wherever you’re staying. I’m getting dressed.”

She started off, thinking she had handled it, but the men began arguing behind her. Brent growled. “Della should be with a man who won’t ever leave her, and her feet should stay on the ground. She needs reality, not some stupid fantasy world you set up with your money.”

Santi muttered something in Spanish, she assumed was a curse. “I want only happiness for her. She can find it with me.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Brent snapped back.

Della spun on her heel and ran over to them. She squeezed her way between the two men and shoved at both their chests. “Stop fighting!”

Santi thrust her arm away and grabbed her around the waist. The man had the nerve to hoist her straight up off her feet and set her to the side as if she weighed nothing. Then he went back to his argument with Brent. She looked back and forth between them, befuddled. If she were dressed, she’d be in a better position to get them under control, but if she left the room, would their argument come to blows? On top of that, she had another, bigger problem.

As she stood there watching them and half-listening to their words, she came to realize what she wanted was for Santi to stay and Brent to go. Brent had said what she needed was to have her feet on the ground and not live in a fantasy that Santi created. Seriously though, who gave him the right to determine what she needed? Was what Santi offered a fantasy, and if it was, so what? Why couldn’t she live a fantasy? The thought of it seemed incongruent with the life she had led up until now. Yet, she couldn’t trust Santi not to toss her aside as he did in the past. He hurt her so badly, and she might not be able to recover again.

She uttered a low, bitter laugh at what he had said, that if she didn’t love him, he would win her heart again. He couldn’t be serious. Didn’t love him? She had never stopped, not once. That was the fantasy. Once given, she could not reclaim her heart no matter how hard she tried. Why him? Why not Brent who had been there? She had asked herself that question a million times with no satisfactory answer.

I love Santi. I love him so much, and I can’t stop, unless…

Could she stop if she married Brent? That would be unfair to him, but not if she gave him her all and devoted her life to being the best wife a man could ask for. Nausea roiled in her stomach. She clutched it. The two men stopped speaking, and both looked at her. Brent’s baby blue eyes burned with indignation. Santi’s topaz ones turned in an instant from anger to soft and inviting when he looked at her.

“I…” she began and shut her eyes to block them out. “I need you to get out, Santi.
Please,
I’m begging you. Go now.”