PaintedPassion (5 page)

Carlos knocked then opened the door to the guest
casita
.
Miguel sat on a black leather recliner with his feet propped on an ottoman
while he watched an episode of
Bonanza
.

Carlos closed the door. “Hear your love of food finally
caught up with you.”

His cousin nodded. “Funny.”

“
Tia
Elena said she intends to check on you every
day.”

Miguel smirked. “She already made an appointment for me for
tomorrow.”

“Let me know how it goes. I’ll be back in Vegas by
midnight.”

His cousin’s brows shot upward. “Have you forgotten you’re
Trella’s bodyguard now? Until I receive the green light to work, someone has to
look out for her.”

Carlos grabbed the remote, muting the TV as the truth of
Miguel’s statement reverberated through him. “Damn, I hadn’t considered what
your being out of commission meant.”

Miguel folded his arms behind his head. “You two around each
other. All day every day.”

Each breath Carlos dragged into his lungs did nothing to
dispel the rising tide of tension. His mind replayed the scene of Trella
walking in on him. Being with her constantly meant smelling her provocative
scent and watching her body’s every seductive move.

Dios!
How long would he last without tasting her? He
rubbed his hand down his face, knowing Miguel enjoyed his discomfort. “Where
did you have the panic attack?”

“South Mountain. Damn fear of heights, man. I was fine at
the Gallery, the café and City Hall.”

Carlos latched onto his words. “Why the stop at City Hall?”
he asked but feared he already knew the answer.

Miguel stretched. “To thank dude for the flowers, I guess. I
waited outside in the car. She wasn’t inside for long.”

Red-hot fury rolled through him, and he dashed from the room
before Miguel finished speaking. Obviously, Trella had no intention of
mentioning the clandestine visit. He stalked along the hallway, struggling to
summon calm.

On the patio, Trella lay on a lounger, watching the
newscast. Because Louis had loved watching sports and barbecuing, a flat-screen
television was mounted on the wall beneath the covered patio.

Carlos stood in the doorway, determined not to allow his
desire to deter him from questioning her.

“Miguel’s fine. What did you two do today?”

She didn’t look in his direction. “Ran some errands. Talked
at length with Francois about the gallery showing.”

“Why the stop at City Hall?” He blurted the question,
praying she’d reveal a valid reason.

“I wanted to thank Hector for the flowers.”

“Did you discuss anything else?”

She stiffened, and seconds ticked by before she answered. “I
figured Hector might be more forthcoming with information about the IWP if I
showed up announced.”

This sane woman had lost her damn mind. He glared at her.
“Hector’s work program might be a cover for human smuggling.”

She shifted, staring at him in a wild-eyed daze, any
interest in the news dissipated.

“Through your impulsive act, you tipped your hand by letting
him know you’re questioning the program.” Carlos paced, refusing to sift
through the wave of emotions battering him all at once. “If you weren’t in
danger before, you are now.”

She straightened to a sitting position. Surprise, anger and
fright warred for dominance on her face. “I wasn’t thinking,” she whispered.
She swung her feet to the ground.

Folding his arms in front of his chest, he stopped in front
of her. “I’m moving in.”

She shook her head. “No way, Carlos. Two bodyguards? It’s
crazy.”

“Not two. Just me until Miguel is cleared to work. You and I
are traveling to Vegas in the morning. I need to check on a few clients, and
I’ll need more clothing.”

She pinned him with a hard look. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Maybe not, but I need to know you’re safe.” He kept his
voice low and controlled. “I’m not giving in. Quit acting stubborn.”

“Melissa and Selina—”

“Wouldn’t provide much help if Hector makes a move on you,
and I don’t want you involving them. The fewer people who know, the better.”

Her breasts rose and fell with each deep breath. He gritted
his teeth, fighting to keep his gaze from wandering below her neck.

“You couldn’t ask if this is something I want?”

Her question pried the edge off the lid containing his
temper. “I don’t care what you want, Trella. We will be inseparable,
understand?” He leaned down and his nostrils flared as he placed his hands on
the lounger’s armrests, bracketing her within the space he created. “Random
cars drive to your home at all hours of the night, you receive hang-up calls,
and someone shot your husband. And all those events just might be related. My
cousin lives here with you. This isn’t just about you and your precious wants.
You can tolerate inconvenience,” he uttered in a low voice.

Straightening, Carlos drew in a breath. “Trust me—living
here is the last thing I want.”

He saw the flash of hurt in her eyes before she rose. She
marched to the stone steps leading to the terrace.

“Louis didn’t marry a fragile female.” She turned to face
him, a determined look on her face. “I can take care of myself.”

His anger disappeared in a flash. With her hair loose around
her shoulders, she was a goddess, proud and fearless. Raw need surged through
him at the sexy picture she presented.

He pulled his mind back to the matter at hand. “I know you
can handle yourself, but this is business. You’ve placed yourself in the middle
of a profitable organization. If Louis’ death was in any way connected to it,
whoever shot a detective won’t think twice at the prospect of cancelling your
existence.”

Drawn to her magnetic presence, he stopped when he stood in
front of her. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” His voice softened. He
touched her hair, the silken strands slipping over his fingers. “I want you out
of harm’s way.”

She poked the middle of his chest with her index finger. “I
want you safe, as well. Because here’s a newsflash, Mr. I-can-take-care-of-you,
if our esteemed councilman believes Louis shared what he knew, then Hector’s
not just coming after me, Carlos. He’s coming after both of us,” she whispered.

Her luminous eyes searched his as if seeking reassurance.
“I’m not a damsel in distress,” she muttered.

He cradled her face in his hands. “Far from it.” He touched
his lips to the space between her arched eyebrows. The kiss was meant to be
comforting, but as soon as his mouth made contact with her soft skin, his
body’s wiring sputtered from shock.

“I know you’re strong, but we have to be smart.” Incapable
of avoiding her heat, he kissed the bridge of her nose. He needed to stop
before he did something he couldn’t take back.

Her fingers entwined with his. “Hector won’t get away with
this.”

He kissed her right temple. “I agree.”

“We’ll take him down and anyone working for him, too.”

Her words, uttered without an ounce of mercy, fueled his
arousal. Carlos was beyond ready to be turned out, burned and fried by the
release of her passion. He kissed her left cheek. “He’ll have no idea what hit
him.”

“We’ll nail his ass to the wall.”

He wanted, no
needed
to taste her. “No one pisses off
my girl,” he whispered. He didn’t know when he began thinking of her in such a
manner.

He touched his lips to hers, his entire being fusing with
the spirit of this amazing woman. He didn’t bother fighting what he’d wanted to
do since he’d arrived yesterday. He nibbled at her softness, wishing he were
feasting on every inch of her.

She tensed for a second then relaxed as her mouth moved
against his. She parted her lips, permitting him entrance.

He groaned at her submission. She tasted of citrus fruit,
juicy and luscious. The patio, the pool, the night—everything around them
disappeared, leaving him aware of nothing but her. Their tongues touched and
met, and the softness of hers, sliding over his, triggered an erection that
spurred him on.

He moved his hands to her waist, lifting her off the ground,
their bodies melding, pelvis to pelvis. Ever since he saw her again, kissing
her had been in the back of his mind. Being around each other, it was bound to
happen sooner or later. He much preferred sooner.

He wanted to carry her upstairs, but the timing was wrong.
He didn’t care if she kissed him out of shock. He’d take her lips on his for
any reason.

She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands
roamed her back, pulling her closer still. But it wasn’t enough. He rubbed his
pelvis against hers, and she gasped in response.

As if the feel of his erection shocked her into awareness,
she pulled away, lips plump from his kiss. He groaned, realizing there would be
no complete satisfaction tonight.

She rubbed her palms down his chest, lips parted as if
waiting for him to take them again. He kept his hands on her waist, as much to
touch her as to provide an anchor for him.

“Do something for me.”

The air brushed against him, warm but not as hot as Trella’s
body. He didn’t care what she wanted. He’d willingly give her whatever she
needed. “Name it,” he ground out, ready to put the world at her feet.

“Let me paint you.”

Her husky words produced the same effect as her kiss until
his blood-deprived brain comprehended her statement. His jaw dropped.

She raised her chin. “It would mean a lot if I can count on
you. Think of the number of women who’d be interested in a painting of a handsome,
muscular man. No nudes. Trust me.”

How was she able to calmly carry on a conversation with him
when he could barely formulate a word?

“Carlos?”

“What?” He struggled to remain coherent from the loss of
blood flow to his brain.

“Are you on board with my wanting to use you?”

Her words dragged him back into the bottomless hole of raw
need, imagining her hands on other parts of his body, caressing his chest,
stomach…lower.

Yes
.
Please use
me
. He nodded, not
trusting his voice.

She reached up, ruffling his hair as if he were a pet
instead of a grown man with an erection hard enough to cut glass.

“You’re a life saver.” She turned and walked away, leaving
him standing alone on the patio.

He groaned. Who would save him?

* * * * *

Hector positioned the plain wrapping paper carefully around
the present. He adored this piece of his collection, but he needed to send a
message. She was a naïve fool if she believed she could destroy his operation.
He’d outwitted the police and federal agents. Hell, he had a few on his
payroll.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he poured a shot of whiskey.
He hadn’t started his operation with the idea of killing anyone. Money flowed.
People arrived in America—eventually. Everything had a price. He was simply a
facilitator of dreams.

Louis Arnold caused his own demise. If he hadn’t been
snooping, he wouldn’t be a fallen officer. Now, his widow sought answers. He
didn’t want to deprive the world of a talented artist, but if she became too
nosy for her own good… He shrugged and tossed the liquid back, grimacing as it
coated his throat.

As Carlos drove, he occasionally switched the satellite
radio between national news and ESPN. Opting to ride on the backseat of his
flamenco-red Jeep, Trella flipped through a fashion magazine in an effort to
curtail the urge to scream at him to settle on one station.

After their kiss last night, she remained rattled. What had
he been thinking? More importantly, what had she been thinking? She couldn’t
close her eyes without recalling the taste and feel of his firm lips on hers.
Sleep had been a long time coming last night. If she hadn’t taken advantage of
the break in their kiss to ask him to sit for her, she had no doubt she’d have
been flat on her back or riding his… He’d been so hard, and he felt so good
rubbing against her.

He unleashed a fire inside her she’d never experienced,
unraveling her good intentions and common sense until nothing remained but an
elemental urge to have him inside her.

Walking in on a naked Carlos was one thing. Kissing him was
something entirely different. They could pretend the moment meant nothing,
right? To him, it probably didn’t. Men such as Carlos didn’t torture themselves
over a kiss. Clearly, he wasn’t bothered by what happened, because he’d said
little to nothing to her this morning.

She slid sunglasses on when her lids grew heavy. She wished
she’d brought along her headphones to drown out the drone of the radio.

Hours later, she awoke, as Carlos pulled into a gated condo
community. She climbed out then stretched before following him up the stone
walk to the front door.

In the foyer, the menthol scent of eucalyptus tickled her
nose, compliments of potpourri crushed in a blown glass bowl sitting atop a
rectangular table. Carved miniatures of a horse and a lion rested atop a wicker
basket on the floor beneath the table.

Trella turned in a slow circle as she visualized him coming
here after a long day at work.

“It won’t take long to pack what I need.” He pointed to a
coffee table where a universal remote rested. “Feel free to watch whatever you
want.” He disappeared up the staircase.

In addition to a camel-tan leather sofa, two
espresso-colored recliners provided ample seating. Two bookshelves flanked the
television. One contained photos of Carlos, Louis and assorted squad members.
She also recognized photos of Alfonso and his grandchildren. No images of a
girlfriend. Interesting. She wandered closer to the second bookshelf, which
contained stacks of car magazines, a few novels by James Patterson and books of
poems in both English and Spanish.

A framed picture of his parents hung on a wall. From what
Louis had shared with her, she knew Carlos’ mom and dad were killed by a drunk
driver when he was a teenager.

She picked up the remote and aimed it at the obscenely large
flat-screen television, surprised when a financial news station appeared
instead of a sports station. She wandered into the kitchen. A small DVD player
hung beneath a cabinet. Burnt umber and gold ochre-toned curtains hung at the
window over the sink and in the bay windows framing a round glass table.

She wandered to the staircase. “Carlos?”

No answer. She climbed several stairs. “Carlos?”

Still no response. She continued up the stairs. Two bedrooms
occupied the second floor, along with a bathroom.

She peeked into the first bedroom. A treadmill and a bench
with several weights strewn across the floor occupied the space instead of a
bed. She walked into the second bedroom. A king-size bed topped with a black
and tan quilt and plump pillows dominated the area.

Carlos emerged from the closet, carrying several pairs of
jeans, short and long-sleeve shirts and a blazer. He placed them atop the bed.
“Got bored downstairs?”

She ran a hand across his nightstand. “Perhaps I wanted to
see what your bedroom looked like. You’ve seen mine.”

He grinned. “True.”

“I like your place. Has a lot of character.”

“Thanks.” He added the clothing to a garment bag then
grabbed his carryon. He gestured for her to precede him downstairs.

Once they reached the living room, she pressed a button on
the remote and turned off the TV. “Is there anyone who will look after your
place while you’re gone?”

He shook his head. “My agents will keep an eye on things
here.”

Interesting. No woman to watch his place. Not that she
cared.

“I’ll drop you off at the mall. You can shop while I visit a
client. Afterward, we can grab a late lunch before heading back.”

* * * * *

Carlos walked into his office, greeting Stephanie, his
twenty-something receptionist.

Her pixie face broke into a wide smile. “Welcome back.”

“Only for a few hours. Then I’m returning to Phoenix.”

“I left messages on your desk.” She shot him a disapproving
glance. “Bambi has called three times today.”

He ignored her last statement. “Is the Seaside Harbor Casino
contract ready?” Seaside had been his first client, and over the years, the
contract had proven a lucrative source of income.

Her fingers flew across the keys at a dizzying speed.
“Finishing it up now.”

He nodded. “I’ll take it with me.” He continued down the
hallway, waving to several employees working in cubicles.

Inside his corner office, he powered up his computer, his
gaze wandering to a photo of Louis he kept on his filing cabinet. Owning a
security agency had been their “retirement” plan. A satellite office in L.A.
opened earlier this year. Maybe in a year or so, he’d expand to another city.

He sifted through the detailed messages. Four were from
prospective clients. He stared at Bambi’s number on the last message. He had
strict rules about a woman’s involvement in his life. No staying the night. No
calls to his home. No showing up at his office unannounced. And his number one
rule, if a woman sees him out and about with another woman, no drama. While
Bambi had her talents, she also freely shared them with others.

Carlos called the prospects and followed up by sending
background information on his company via email. He included the name of his
vice president, who could be contacted in Carlos’ absence.

He rested his feet on his desk, crossing his legs at the
ankles as he reviewed information for the day’s meeting then spent the
remaining time creating a list of clients he needed to check in with while out
of town.

With his scheduled appointment with Seaside Harbor nearing,
he shut down the computer. He gathered his client’s portfolio and a stack of
brochures. As he passed Stephanie’s desk, she handed him the contract.

“Remember, if you need me, call my cell.”

“We’ll hold down the fort, boss.”

* * * * *

At the mall, Trella ambled up one side of the polished floor
and down the other, peering through store windows. After watching several
street performers, she ventured into one of her favorite apparel stores,
quickly losing herself among the enticing racks.

Her cell rang, and she rustled through her purse to locate
it before the call went to voicemail.

“Ms. Arnold?”

“This is she.”

“I’m calling at Councilman Rodriguez’s request. He would be
honored if you would join him this Saturday night as his guest. He’s hosting a
dinner party at his home. Will you be able to attend?”

If Hector kept incriminating info, it’d be at his home.
She’d be crazy not to go. “Yes, I’ll be there. Please thank him for me.” She
ended the call. Carlos would think she’d lost her common sense, but surely he
wouldn’t fail to recognize the opportunity this presented?

She selected three blouses, a maxi dress and two pairs of
slacks. As she made her way to the dressing room, she wished Selina and Melissa
could have come along with her. She much preferred shopping with her
girlfriends.

After paying for her purchases, Trella left the store. She
weaved through the crowd to a seating area. Across the plaza, beneath a sign
for sports equipment, she caught sight of the profile of a tall, muscular man.
She squinted, recognizing Carlos talking and laughing with a shorter, older
man. The easy manner with which Carlos interacted with the man indicated their
friendship. Despite the high number of people milling around, Carlos managed to
stand out.

As if he knew she watched him, he glanced up, his gaze
connecting with hers. Though he was a distance from her, the look he cast her
way shot her temperature sky-high.

Engrossed in studying him, she didn’t realize two young
women standing nearby watched him as well…not until snatches of their
conversation floated to her ears.

“He’s looking at me. He is so fine,” one gushed.

“You think he’s married?” the second one questioned.

“No ring but probably. I can’t believe no woman’s snatched
him up.”

“I think he’s a football player. Look at his build.”

“O.M.G. He’s heading this way.” The first woman whipped out
a compact.

“You look fine,” her friend assured her.

As Trella watched, Carlos’ long, confident strides ate up
the space between them. Barely able to keep the smile off her face, she decided
to have a bit of fun with his female audience.

When he reached her, she rose onto her tiptoes, curved an
arm up and around his neck. She pressed her mouth against his with enough
pressure to leave his lips colored in her favorite berry lip gloss.

“All finished with business, honey?” she gushed, aware the
women remained standing nearby.

Carlos frowned. “Uh, yes.”

She linked her hand with his. “We have time for lunch.”

He bent closer, giving the appearance of kissing her cheek
when in fact he whispered, “What’s going on?”

She grinned. “Tell you later.”

Trella smiled sweetly as they passed the young women. She
hadn’t spotted any signs of a female’s presence in his home, but that didn’t
mean he wasn’t seeing someone. She didn’t want to believe he’d kissed her if he
had a girlfriend, but Louis had often joked about Carlos’ stable of women. For
one quick second, she wondered what type of man Carlos would be in a
relationship.
Who cares? It’s not as if I’m interested in dating anyone.

She glanced at him. Based on what had brushed against her
stomach last night, the man had a lot to work with. Who reaped the benefit?

“What happened back there?”

His question returned her to the present. “I rescued you
from two young women determined to introduce themselves and take advantage of
you.”

“Appreciate the save.” He laughed.

The deep sound made her insides tingle with longing.

They entered the restaurant, and a hostess seated them at a
booth. Trella slid onto the leather seat opposite Carlos.

A bespectacled waiter appeared. After setting glasses of
water on the table, he passed them each a menu. “I’ll return in a few minutes
to take your order.”

Carlos eyed the bags piled on the seat next to her. “Found a
few things?”

She nodded. “My one guilty pleasure.”

“Hmm. Louis said you were a champion shopper.”

“It isn’t my fault I can sniff out bargains.”

He appeared scandalized. “What? No spa treatments?”

She laughed. “I would love to indulge in an entire day of
treatments, but I haven’t had time. Maybe after the gallery showing.” She
sipped her water. “Everything okay with your client?”

“They renewed their service contract for another three
years.”

She studied the menu. “Your guys do what?”

“Watch those who are watching the patrons.”

“Wow. Does anyone trust anyone these days?”

“Checks and balances is the name of the game, babe.” He
perused the menu. “Ready to order?”

“I’m leaning toward the organic chicken with vegetables and
the tomato and basil salad.”

When the waiter returned, Carlos ordered for Trella then
included steak and potatoes with steamed vegetables for himself.

A smile creased his face. “You’re not planning to show me
what you bought?”

“Are you interested?”

He gasped in mock offense. “Think of me as one of the
girls.”

As if
. “Fine. But remember, this was your idea.” She
pulled a blouse from a bag as she regaled him with bargains from her shopping
spree.

A tall, slender woman with breasts barely contained by the
halter of a yellow sundress stopped beside their booth. Vermillion-colored lips
formed a perfect pout. “You didn’t return my calls, Carlos.”

He paused in the act of raising his glass. “Bambi?” The
water sloshed inside as he set the glass down hard.

The woman laughed. “As if you could forget about me.”

He slid from the booth. “Trella, this is Bambi. Uh, a friend
of mine.”

Trella managed a brief smile at the woman then returned her
attention to Carlos. Was the man blushing?

Bambi leaned over to finger the sleeve of the chiffon blouse
Trella held. “This is gorgeous. If you like the bargains here, you should try
the outlet mall. Have you been there?”

Trella shook her head, unable to speak in the residual cloud
of the woman’s cloying floral perfume.

“You should go there. Have Carlos take you.” Bambi flicked
strands of honey-colored hair over her shoulders, the flowing mane clearly
maintained at a salon and not from a do-it-at-home kit.

“Don’t worry, baby.” She ruffled his hair. “I’ll make the
other night up to you.”

Trella fought against an instant rush of dislike. Bambi was
one of Carlos’ harem.
You are not interested, remember?
She stuffed the
blouse into the bag, uncaring about wrinkles.

“The other night?” Trella blurted the question, any
intention of remaining unaffected thrown out the window.

Bambi nodded. “He wanted some loving before he left town,
didn’t you, babe?”

Carlos picked up the glass and drained it as if it were the
last liquid sustenance allowed him. Bet he wished it was whiskey.