PaintedPassion (11 page)

The third door was partially open. She heard voices. Trella
inched closer.

“The drop continues as planned.”

Hector’s voice. Her heart thumped.

“I don’t want any problems. That detective’s death kept us
in limbo for far too long, and we lost a lot of money. Get it right, or I’ll
find someone who can.” He sounded calm, but his words contained a thread of
steel.

The drone of people talking and the tinkle of glasses
subsided into the background, as fear curdled her insides, making her stomach
pitch in revolt. Slipping off her pumps, she carried them as she retraced her
steps.

She spotted a bathroom near the landing and slipped inside.
A detective’s death. There’d been no other deaths on the force since Louis.
Trella turned on the sink’s faucet. She splashed cold water on her face as a
wave of nausea hit her. Head down, she gulped in a lungful of air when the
nausea subsided. She shut off the water.

With shaking hands, she extracted her cell. Finger poised
above the number nine, she hesitated. Calling the police would do what? They
were already here. The phone clattered into the sink. She sat on the closed
toilet.

Pull yourself together.
Minutes ticked by before she
steadied enough to stand. She returned her cell to her purse then repaired her
makeup.

She slipped her heels onto her feet. Smoothing her dress,
she took a deep breath then exited. She hurried down the stairs and toward the
foyer. Time to leave.

Candy stepped into her path. “I was looking for you.
Where’ve you been?”

Alarm dampened her palms. “I was admiring the fantastic
art.”

Several seconds ticked by as the taller woman appraised her.
“I thought you and Hector had skipped out for a private party.”

Trella laughed, hoping the sound wasn’t as high and grating
as it seemed to her ears. She glanced around, searching for the closest path to
the front door.

Hector walked up and slid an arm around her waist, pulling
her flush to his side. “Still monopolizing my gorgeous date?”

“She missed you,” Candy replied.

His penetrating gaze met Trella’s, searching for her secrets
yet yielding none of his own. “Something wrong?”

She patted his chest. “Of course not.”

Hector’s face lowered. At the last second, she averted her
head so his lips touched her cheek instead of her mouth.

He quirked an eyebrow. “You are averse to public displays of
affection?”

Don’t give him a reason to question your sincerity.
“These
people are your constituents, Hector. Not your family. You can’t hand your
opponent anything to use against you during election season.”

He laughed. “Candy, this woman may make an honest man of
me.”

The other woman winked at her. “You two make a handsome
couple.”

Trella’s glance flitted through the room. Jose nodded in her
direction before looking away. The small acknowledgement calmed her, reassuring
her she was not alone.

“Off to find the hubby before he drinks too much. She’s a
gem, Hector. Don’t let her slip away.” Candy kissed them both on the cheek then
left them alone.

After the other woman sashayed away, Hector leaned closer.
“I know you aren’t interested in spending the night, but can I at least
persuade you to stay until after the guests leave?”

She pouted. “I wish, but I have a deadline with the gallery.
I can’t spare the time until after my show.”

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, leading her onto
the patio.

“After the show concludes, I’m all yours.” She caressed his
arm as they walked along the cobblestone pathway winding through the manicured
lawn. “If you don’t mind, can you have the limo take me home? It’s late, and I
need an early start on my work tomorrow.”

“No problem.”

He escorted her to the front of the house where the limo
waited near the curb. The chauffer stood nearby, chatting with several valet
drivers.

Trella assumed Hector would see her off, but when she
climbed inside the plush vehicle he followed.

He slid along the leather seat beside her, his thigh
pressing against hers. “Spend the night with me.”

“Why rush?” She patted his knee. “We have plenty of time.”

“I take opportunities. I don’t wait for them.” He placed a
hand at the back of her neck, holding her immobile as he bent his head to hers.
He planted a kiss on her closed lips. “Tomorrow?”

She suppressed a groan of irritation at his insistence. “I
told you I won’t have time until after the show.”

Taking advantage of her open mouth, he kissed her again,
slipping his tongue between her lips, reminding her of the darting motion of a
snake.

She forced down the urge to gag an endured the massacre for
three too-damn-long seconds. She put a hand on the center of his chest and
exerted firm pressure.

He lifted his head. “You drive me crazy.” He pressed a
button, lowering the partition separating them from the driver. “We’re taking
Ms. Arnold to her home.”

The driver nodded as he eased the long vehicle away from the
curb. With relief, she noted Hector didn’t activate the privacy panel.

“I can stop by with lunch tomorrow.”

She shifted on the seat to face him. “Please try to
understand. When I’m in my creative zone, I don’t stop for any reason.”

He lifted her fingers to his lips. “I understand everything
about you, Trella. But you have no idea what you do to me.”

Play the role. “I know what Louis claimed I did to him, but
I suppose each man is different.”

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Very
different.”

He didn’t attempt to kiss her again but settled a hand on
her breast, kneading and pulling at her in a manner that reminded her of
milking a cow. She couldn’t help contrasting his rough touch with Carlos’ soft
one.

The limo pulled into her driveway. The beginnings of a
crippling headache from the effort of pretended civility throbbed behind her
eyes.

The driver barely opened the door before she sprang from the
backseat.

“Trella!”

Shivering, despite the warmth of the late night, she turned
around to stare at the monster she now knew was responsible for her husband’s
death.

He pinned her with a hard look. “I know you’ll be worth the
wait.”

Trella ticked off the actions in her head as she performed
them. Open door, deactivate alarm, close door, set alarm. The house was quiet
except for the muted hum of the air conditioner. She climbed the stairs,
counting each one as she ascended.

In the bedroom, she flipped the switch to activate the gas
fireplace. She stood in front of the hearth, watching the brightening glow of
light until the blast of heat hit her, but the fire failed to dissipate the
chill that had taken up residence in her bones.

She unzipped her dress, smoothed it off her shoulders then
stepped out of the puddle of fabric.

The phone rang, its strident tones shattering the quiet.
Trella snatched up the receiver.

“Hello?”

The sound of deep breathing met her ear.

“Whoever you are, my line has a trace on it. Feel free to
keep calling.” She slammed down the phone. She kicked off her heels on her way
into the bathroom. The coolness of the tile made her shiver.

Hector Rodriguez killed Louis
.

Even if he didn’t actually pull the trigger, he knew who
did. Trella turned on the shower, staring at the drain as the water rushed across
the tan and caramel tile.

She peeled off her underwear, leaving the bra and panties on
the floor, and reached in to turn on the shower. Trella welcomed the heat of
the water. She could wash Hector’s touch from her body but not the sickening
memory from her mind.

Tears she’d fought back would no longer be denied. They
leaked past her shattered barriers of control, joining the warm rush of water
running down her face.

* * * * *

Carlos drove his Jeep into the garage at Trella’s house. He
reset the alarm before he made his nightly rounds of checking the windows and
doors, and then he climbed the stairs. Outside her bedroom door, he heard the
faint rush of water.

He returned downstairs. In the office, Carlos connected the
digital camera to the computer. He downloaded the photos, saved them to the
hard drive then printed them off in color. Not wanting to disturb Miguel in
case he was sleeping, Carlos studied the security tapes. Although his cousin
had access to the tapes via laptop, the medicine Miguel had been given made him
drowsy. Until Miguel’s body adjusted to the meds, Carlos had to be the eyes and
ears for all of them.

Seeing nothing of concern, he returned to the office,
scooped up the photographs then continued to his room.

He showered then tugged on a pair of drawstring pants. He’d
made plans to connect with the guys tomorrow at noon to peruse the information
he’d found and formulate their next step.

Puzzled that he hadn’t yet seen Trella, he climbed the
stairs once more to her room. He knocked on the door and waited for a response.
Hearing none, he stepped inside. A wall of heat caused him to blink. He flipped
off the fireplace’s switch. The rush of water continued in the bathroom.

Carlos opened the double doors, content to wait outside on
the patio for her to emerge. The lights of the Valley twinkled in the distance,
reminding him of how Trella’s eyes danced when she laughed.

His jaw tightened as he recalled Rodriguez kissing her. He’d
wanted to rip the man’s head off for daring to touch his woman.

His
. He understood she was an independent woman. But
when it came to protecting her—that was his job. She needed to understand. He’d
never had to work for a woman’s attention and affection before. Trella was
making him jump through hoops without even trying. Talk about pathetic…

Carlos retraced his steps. He glanced at the clock. He’d
been home over an hour, and she was still taking a shower?

“Trella?”

No response. Worry crept over him. He opened the bathroom
door. Her underwear lay in a pile on the floor. Water streamed from the
showerhead, steaming the glass. Heart racing, he rushed farther into the room.

He stopped, brought to a halt by the sight greeting him.
Trella sat on the shower bench. Her eyes were closed, and she leaned her head
against the tiled wall.

Carlos yanked open the door. He turned off the stream of
water. A towel rested on the bar. He draped it around her, took her hand, and
helped her to her feet.

After leading her out of the shower stall, he used the towel
to dry her body and her hair. Leaving her standing there for a moment, he went
back into the bedroom and rummaged through her dresser, locating a t-shirt and
a pair of panties.

He returned to the bathroom. “Put these on.” He handed her
the clothing.

She did as he ordered but said nothing.

He whipped off his shirt in the hot room and tossed it aside.
Cradling her hands in his, he backed out of the bathroom, pulling her to sit on
a curved chaise. “Sweetheart, you’re safe.”

He sat beside her, cradled her face between his hands and
forced her to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

An expression of sadness and utter defeat settled onto
Trella’s face. She shook her head slowly from side to side.

“The man’s evil,” she whispered. She rested her head against
Carlos’ chest and gripped the waistband of his pants.

He held her, rocking her softly against him. Despite his
intent to provide comfort, her softness penetrated his mind, causing his body
to betray him. His erection pulsed. Her hold tightened.

Trella lifted her head, bringing her lips close to his. “I
want you again.”

She touched his mouth with hers, licked his bottom lip
before slipping her tongue inside to tangle with his.

Raw hunger and the urge to supplant any memory she may have
of Rodriguez’s kiss rose within Carlos. Despite what he wanted, Trella didn’t
need him in that manner. He drew back, putting space between them.

He wiped a hand down his face. “Not tonight.”

She reached between them and stroked her hand down his
length. “Not all of you feels that way.”

Her touch, coupled with her rich, husky voice, had his eyes
crossing in pleasure.

He fought against surrendering to the sensation. Expelling
his breath in a loud exhale, he captured her hands in his. “I’m not a
substitute for Louis, for your fears, for anything. You hear me?”

Blinking, she nodded, capturing her bottom lip between her
teeth.

He stood and pulled her to her feet. In silence, he led her
to the bed. Carlos pulled the sheet back and waited as she followed his
unspoken command.

“What’d Rodriguez do? I’ll kill him if he hurt you.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No more killing.”

Leaning down, he stroked her damp hair. “Tell me what
happened.”

“I’m sorry for asking you to come back here. I put you in
danger.”

“Trella, sweetheart. What happened?”

“I overheard Hector on the phone.”

“What’d he say?”

Tears filled her eyes. “He said they’d lost money because of
a delay. He threatened someone for screwing up. For killing ‘the detective’. I
know he meant Louis. I know it.”

Rodriguez is a dead man
. Carlos straightened. Fury
raced through him. He turned to leave, but she grabbed his hand, staying his
progress.

“Don’t go.”

Her eyes pleaded with him, warring with the urge to avenge
Louis’ death.

“Not like this, Carlos.”

His jaw tightened. She didn’t know what she was asking of
him. He’d do anything for her, though. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I won’t
leave.”

She loosened her grip on his wrist, and he opened his eyes.

“Thank you.”

He stroked her cheek before tugging the sheet to her waist.

Carlos picked up her discarded clothing. He draped her dress
over a chair. In the bathroom, he hung the damp towel on the bar before picking
up Trella’s discarded underwear.

“Carlos?”

He returned to the bedroom. “Try to rest, baby. I’ll be
back.”

Downstairs, he deposited her underwear in the laundry room.
He took his time checking the cameras and making sure the house was locked up
tight. He wanted her asleep before he returned.

Trella was a handful. A determined Trella was more than he
could handle—especially one intent on giving him what they both wanted. He
didn’t want her under a cloud of regret. Until she realized his feelings were
real, he’d do well to keep distance between them.

By the time he returned upstairs, she’d fallen asleep,
curled onto her side with one fist under her chin. He kissed her forehead then
climbed into bed beside her.

* * * * *

Trella woke to the sun’s light streaming across her face.
She stretched as her nose identified the comforting aroma of her favorite
Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee.

The memory of last night came flooding back. Thankfully,
Carlos hadn’t acted on her request. She’d been confused and not herself. She
doubted many men would have refused what she’d offered. She hated to admit she
still wanted him. She’d been asleep when he’d joined her in bed, but in the
middle of the night she’d awakened. Her first instinct was to kiss him, but
she’d been afraid of a repeat of his rejection.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she was hiding behind Louis
instead of facing the fact she and Carlos were growing closer.

She hurried through her morning ablution then pulled on a
gray tank and matching yoga pants, allowing her normal routine to center her
after last night’s drama.

When she finished, she felt clearer and able to tackle her
day.

She bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Clad in a
pair of drawstring khaki shorts, Carlos stood in front of the oven, stirring
something in a pot.

“What smells so good?”

He turned around. “Oatmeal, fresh orange juice—courtesy of
your trees—scrambled eggs, waffles and turkey sausage.”

He handed her coffee in her favorite mug.

She sipped the strong, dark brew. “Heaven.”

“Sit. Your breakfast awaits, my lady.”

She did as he requested. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I could do more if you’d allow it.”

She met his gaze, finding nothing but sincerity in the warm
chocolate depths.

He set a plate in front of her. “The guys are stopping by to
look at the info I obtained last night.”

Trella said grace before biting into a piece of sausage,
savoring the taste of sage.

Carlos joined her at the table with a plate barely visible
under the pile of his food. “Ready to talk about it?”

She lifted a forkful of fluffy eggs to her mouth. “Delish.”
She sipped her juice. “I overheard Hector.”

“Talking to whom?”

“I didn’t hear anyone else, so he had to be on the phone. He
mentioned the drop was still going down as planned.”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “He told someone he
wanted no mistakes this time, and because of the death of a detective, they had
to lay low and had missed out on a lot of money. I couldn’t listen anymore.”

He stroked her arm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

She sighed. “I’ve never felt so angry and helpless at the
same time.”

“We’ll catch him and bring down his entire operation.”

“I had another call last night. I told whoever it was I had
a trace on my line.”

Carlos grimaced. “Jose said the person is using a disposable
cell, but let’s hope knowledge of the trace is motivation enough for the calls
to stop.”

They finished breakfast in companionable silence. Afterward,
Carlos loaded the dishes into the dishwasher.

“What’d you find in Hector’s office?”

“I’ll share it with you and the guys at the same time.”

She glanced at the clock. “We have a few hours. What say, my
handsome muse and model, you sit for me?”

He groaned. “When is this torture over?”

“You should be so lucky.” She patted his rear as he bent
over the dishwasher. “Change into the pajama pants you slept in.”

Carlos chuckled as she left the room.

* * * * *

When he arrived in the studio, an early morning breeze lifted
the curtains. Trella dragged her easel closer to the daybed.

“Sit on the edge. Lean forward for me but not too much.”

He complied with her request.

“I want to convey that this is the morning after.”

“After what?”

“Could be after sex, after admitting feelings, after a
divorce.” She shrugged. “Who knows? I leave it up to each person’s
interpretation.”

He tied the ends of the drawstring at the waist of his
cotton pants.

“No. Let them dangle.”

His breath hitched, and his muscles tightened as she brushed
his hands away then untied the strings, allowing one to hang between his legs.

“Not tying them gives the impression you couldn’t be
bothered.” She positioned the other string to lie over his left thigh.

His quadriceps flexed in response to her touch.

“Don’t move.” She hurried back to the canvas.

He held the pose, the constant swish of the brush inviting
his mind to wander. He clenched his jaw, remembering the softness of her skin
as he’d dried her body.

“I was a coward.”

Say what?
Had he zoned out? He blinked, bringing
himself fully alert. “What?”

“You asked me why I never painted Louis. I couldn’t do
justice to him.”

What the hell did that mean?
He wanted to ask but
felt if he did, she’d clam up. Each time he made progress in breaking through
her defense, she built another obstacle.

Lost in his thoughts, he started when Trella tapped him on
the shoulder.

“Need a break? Your shoulders are tensing.”

He rotated them. “Guess so.”

She climbed onto the bed behind him. “Relax.”

Her seductive scent floated around him. She stroked his
back, her small hands kneading the tension from his muscles. He closed his
eyes, fighting the desire to touch her.

Her hands circled his waist, and her breasts pressed against
his back. He hissed at the contact, the heat of her body warming him. His
breaths sounded loud in the silence. Trella ran her nails over his scalp, and he
gritted his teeth. She lifted his hair from his nape, lightly kissing from ear
to ear, and he admitted defeat. His head may care that she was using him to
feel better, but his body didn’t give a damn.