Tempting Isabel (Paradise South #1) (4 page)

“Isabel Angelica Ruiz, you won’t lose me. We’ve been friends since we were seven, for Christ’s sake. And I’m still here! I’ll tell you again, it’s all a
self-fulfilling
prophecy, your bad luck. If you could just change the way you think, not let the damn neighbors and your family get to you—”

“It’s not what people think or say, it’s what
I know
… Oh for God’s sake, Roberto, this is like a dog chasing its tail. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I can’t.”

“No. You’ve got to end this craziness once and for all, Isa. No more running away! Listen to me. Just hear my logic. Take Filipe, for example,” he said as she moved into the kitchen to put the spray bottle and rags away, slamming the cabinet doors as she went. But he continued just the same. “I mean, he was close to the coffin before your father even arranged that whole fiasco.”

“Filipe died a week before the wedding, Roberto…clutching
my
damn photo to his chest!”

“He was a
chain-smoking
alcoholic, Isa! And pushing sixty.” Roberto held out his hands as if they held proof of the ridiculousness of her theory. “Why do you have to put so much emphasis on your losses by trying to find meaning behind them? Why can’t they just be horrible tragedies that happened and move the hell on? You’re just closing doors, opportunities with this insanity! Stop dwelling and look ahead…look at me, Isa! Look. At. Me.” He paused then, but she wouldn’t look at him. Her glare remained fixed on the blood on her floor, but she sensed his stare. It burned a hole in her forehead.

*

Roberto leaned forward, grabbed her cellphone from the coffee table, and a few swipes later, he slammed it down again. Face up.

Her favorite picture of Sebastian—his deep jade eyes illuminated the screen. Her Sebastian, who wouldn’t heed anyone’s warnings. The man who had to have her, and in the end, died to have her. And he still had her. He’d always have her.

“Sebastian is gone, Isabel! It just wasn’t meant to be. But I’m alive, right here, with you. And we
are
meant…to be!”

Had he really gone there? Her heart filled her throat, choking her out because, yes, he definitely had.

And she saw red. Literally. Her thumbnail had dug a hole in her wrist. She stared at the trickle of blood. She swallowed hard, as if that would put her pounding heart back in her chest where it belonged. But it didn’t. She tried to slow her breath and remain calm as she kept her threatening eyes there on her new wound, just below her other scars that lay covered by the pale yellow robe.

But if she hadn’t kept her eyes focused there on her
self-inflicted
gash, her angered look alone might have murdered Roberto right there and then, piercing a torturous tunnel right through him. He had crossed an invisible line, one she thought she’d never have to draw for him, not for her most faithful friend.

For Roberto to even speak that name.
Sebastian.
Sebastian belonged to Isabel. Her first love, her deepest love. He was goddamn
off-limits
!

*

“Mmmm, wow. That was, like, the best sleep ever!” The blonde’s morning stretch dragged her hard
rose-hued
nipples up the slender back of
Red-Hot
who was still sleeping on top of the tussled mess of sheets.

Zack felt a sudden throbbing below. His erection felt a slight draft from the room through the slit in his boxers. Blondie eyed him hungrily, his apparent bulge making her giggle and purr. Wide awake now, she pushed herself up by leveraging the inner thigh of
Red-Hot
and crawled her way down the bed while zeroing in on Zack’s stiff cock.

“Oh no, sweetheart. No, no, no…it’s time to get up and out now,” he told her.

“I know. It’s time to get up and out.” She grabbed at his shorts before he could step back.

One side of his lip curled, but he quickly caught her hands in his. “I can’t be late for my morning meeting. Some other time maybe…” He blew out a stream of air from the shock of her
ice-cold
touch brushing his scorching
hard-on
. Then he smacked her smooth pale ass and moved away from the bed’s edge to go to get his clothes on.

“But, baby,” she called after him, “how do we contact you for that ‘some other time,’ huh? You never even told us your name, Mr.
Long-and
-Strong!” She baited him, begging, still on her knees at the bed’s edge. Zack looked back at her with a polite smile and then continued to his closet. He chose a pair of light
ultra-casual
linen pants to throw on, as was the fashion in Vallarta. He jumped into them and then hurried back across the room for his shirt. He ignored the bombshell who still hadn’t given up, trying to tempt him with her right index finger as it slinked down her body and past her blond curly mound to play with herself.

“Well”—deciding to keep his name to himself—“I guess if it’s meant to be,” he teased.
Hah, meant to be.
What
pseudo-deep
superstitious bullshit.

Now at the windows, he threw open the
floor-to
-ceiling drapes, hoping to move things along for his other guest, the
still-sleeping
beauty.

The bright Vallarta sun flooded the room, causing
Red-Hot
to shove her head under her pillow while Blondie stopped her
whirling-finger
to cover her squinting eyes with both hands. He grabbed his watch, his keys and wallet, and then slipped on his brown leather sandals.

“Housekeeping will be here in a minute, ladies!” he announced in a final attempt. There was no way he could wait for them to leave before having to run out himself. “There’s a continental breakfast downstairs you can grab on your way out,” he coaxed as he adjusted himself and zipped his forgotten fly. He patted his pockets and looked around the room to be sure he didn’t forget anything. “Shit, my phone…”

The redhead sat up slowly, holding his cell in her slender hand. She teased him with it as he came toward her, trying for a kiss. He snatched it from her with a coy smile but no other contact and walked toward the door while texting his attorney that he was on his way to meet him at the Five Breezes.

After hitting “send,” he felt a wave of relief in his chest, blood flowing, a slight spark, and for a
split-second
he forgot about the hollow cavern inside. He was finally purchasing the condo, the beachside vacation spot where he’d spent his childhood summers and holidays. It was also the culminating purchase of his career, a personal goal of more than a decade and a half. He would finally own every piece of property in his bastard father’s real estate portfolio.

“You know what, girls? Just stay… I need to celebrate when I get back. Call room service for food, anything you want, and then rest up! I plan to tire you out again when I get back in a few hours.”

And he left his penthouse suite to
high-pitched
squeals of joy.

*

Roberto’s voice finally drilled through Isabel’s zone of fury, snapping her back to her pained reality. “
Tranquilo
, Isa. You need to relax. Just sit out on the deck with me for a minute.” He widened his spellbinding baby blues to help his case.

No Jodás!
“I said I can’t, Roberto.” She shook her head at his persistence, but couldn’t find it in her to be harsh. Because she could be way too harsh and shatter him, and then lose her only solid friend, not to her curse, but to her temper. “Crap…the time…my meetings!” She picked up her pace, injured foot aside, and put away her cleaning supplies and then scurried into her bedroom to shower. She hoped to God Roberto would get the hint and go before she came out again.

*

She hurried out of her room in an ivory skirt suit with her subtly
low-cut
white satin camisole to go under the professional little blazer jacket she carried over her shoulder. Though lightweight, she hated to put the darn thing on just yet. With the sweltering heat inside the house—and her seething anger at Roberto who still hadn’t moved an inch toward the front door!—it stifled her just imagining her arms inside the long, suffocating sleeves. Then add the definite swelter outside with the midday Vallarta sun at its height—yeah, she’d force herself to put the blazer on at her first meeting, but not a moment earlier.

“Hey, you wanna meet for drinks after work?” Roberto asked, sinking further into the sofa.
God, can he take a hint or
five?

“No, sorry. I’ll hardly be on time for dinner with my sister and brothers as it is.” She’d usually invite Roberto along to a family dinner, but she just couldn’t stomach it. She needed space from him, or more like
he
needed space from her.

She collected her silver cuff bracelet and watch from the side table by the front door. She slid the bracelet on her left wrist and the watch on the other; her tablet and charger at arm’s distance both went into her shoulder bag. Then she scooped up her keys and her feet found and slipped into the strappy heels lying underneath the table. She clipped to the front door, ignoring her throbbing foot—she’d pop a pain reliever in the car.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Your phone?” Roberto held up the device with Sebastian’s gleaming green eyes still on the screen.

She grabbed it, swallowed back a surge of renewed rage as she powered it off, then shoved it into her bag. “Okay then…” She looked at Roberto with lifted brows, a final, unnecessary push, but he only sat there, a look of disappointment in his narrowed eyes.

“So do you mind if I stay and chill on the back deck for a couple of hours? Alone I guess, since you’re abandoning me! It’s my day off…and I drove all the way out here,” he pleaded.

She so wasn’t in the mood for this.
I mean, I didn’t ask you to drive out
here!

He went on though. “Don’t worry, I’ll lock up for you when I leave.”

Roberto had always had a house key to her old place, so the precedent had been set long ago. But now, with his strange obsessive behavior, she hesitated. She missed her best friend so much. God, how she regretted that one
smashed-out
-
of-her
-head night. And she couldn’t even remember it. Not a single damn detail!

His wide smile and round
puppy-dog
eyes stared at her, waiting.

Damn it.
Saying no to him would be too insulting. She tossed him her spare house key and a fake smile to go with it. “I broke the slider door lock this morning. Until my brother comes to fix it, just use that wood rod for a security pole.”

“No problem. And…I’ll see you over the weekend?”

“Uh, no…I have two weddings to run. But I’ll call you.”

*

She rushed out, closing the front door behind her. She was definitely relieved to be in a different air space than Roberto, but stepping into the radiant heat of the day was just a different kind of stifling.

She tossed her jacket onto the front seat of her ancient sedan and immediately wished for the freedom, the peace, the nearly naked liberation she’d owned earlier that morning.

She sighed and started the ignition; she didn’t want to be late. She was off to the paradisiac patio restaurant at the Five Breezes Resort to meet with hopeful and
love-struck
brides, all anxious and
starry-eyed
, ready to plan their perfect,
dream-worthy
destination weddings with Isabel Ruiz of Golden Rings Wedding and Event Planning. She pulled a breath then backed out of her parking spot with extreme care—
as always.
Her rosary dangled from her rearview, a mocking reminder of her past…and now of her current purpose—to forge the lasting bonds of love for other souls.
And never my
own
.

She spiked the volume of her 90s hardcore playlist again, drowning out the deluge of thoughts and the repressive loneliness that came with them.
Isabel, just focus on the road and the day
ahead.

She ran down her day’s agenda and took a quick peek in her rearview to see if her hasty makeup job sufficed—which reminded her, she had to call someone to replace that broken mirror in her powder room. She’d do that between meetings. Then after her five o’clock, she’d meet her family for dinner—and pray that Celeste would come alone.

With a deep sigh, she tried to will the tension from her shoulders and neck.

She needed to relax…and she knew just how to do it. After dinner with her family tonight, she’d grab “some dessert of the male variety,” as her boss, Lucinda, would put it. In celebration of the condo and her new start, she’d snag a fine nameless distraction for the night. She deserved a good, hard,
mind-freeing
release.

Because, screw fate!
I’ll get you by getting mine.
She pressed her right foot to the gas and flew down the cliffside byway to her meetings, tempting fate the entire way, just on goddamn principle.

CHAPTER 3

A
t the Five
Breezes Resort, Zack James had just finished celebratory drinks with his attorney, Armando Sanchez. They had closed on the condo, the
fifty-fifth
and final property of Bennet James’ real estate portfolio, which Zack had set his sights on after his father had left Zack, Darren, and their mother, Elaine, for the other man’s much younger and
knocked-up
French mistress.

But even that sense of accomplishment, that bit of justice served, hadn’t gotten rid of that damn sinkhole inside, or the accompanying headache still pounding away in his skull. Beyond the sheer annoyance of it, he began to get concerned. Ailments like these were rare for him, and it now dampened his celebratory mood—
totally
unacceptable.

Armando stood up to leave. “I’ll have Tania call you with my doctor’s contact info. Oh, and the carpenter’s, for that entertainment unit idea. He’s really excellent,” he said to Zack, who stood as well, ready to shake his loyal and skilled attorney’s hand. The man had treated Zack like a second son from the start. Zack kept a team of attorneys the world over, but Armando was more like family than legal counsel. He thanked Armando with a final wave as the man exited the restaurant, and then moved to take his seat again as the waiter set an espresso down at Zack’s place.

“
Gracias, amigo
.”

“
Por nada
,
Se
ñ
or
.” The young waiter spun to leave and slammed right into a woman—or rather, an angel—in soft creamy white against bronze shimmering skin.

Zack, strangely frozen in his seat, watched as she fell to the ground in what felt like slow motion. His breath halted, too, as if the Earth had paused on its axis a beat.

Stand up, man, and help her!
He jumped from his chair to join the waiter in helping her up from the patio pavers.

“I’m so clumsy, God,” the woman said from the ground with a light laugh to follow. She took the waiter’s hand for leverage, and as calm as the tropicbirds strolling around the patio, she pulled herself up to stand. She brushed her backside off, ridding it of patio dust, then straightened her professional fitted skirt that he couldn’t
not
notice.

God, top to bottom, she was a Latin beauty—much like Angel the bartender from last night. Similar lustrous black hair and mocha skin tone, but less
magazine-seductive
and more…what? Professional? Yes, but that hardly covered it. Something more. She didn’t blush or flush with embarrassment from the fall, but she wasn’t frustrated or defensive either. She was humble, as if surrendered to the occurrence of this kind of accident. As if it happened all the time. No big deal.

Graceful!
That was it. She was graceful. A graceful—and yes, gorgeous—klutz. Yes. Even though her fall hadn’t been her fault and she immediately took the blame anyway, her grace and serene calm was what caught him. Especially since he couldn’t remember a single time a woman hadn’t fawned or melted or flustered in his presence, whatever the context.

This woman was different. Refreshing. Confident and carefree.

Well, speak to her
then!

Right.
“Are you alright?” Zack’s voice cracked. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him?

She nodded and smiled with her eyes, just as her body began leaning to the right. His hand flew to her back, his other held her elbow. “Are you lightheaded?” he asked, trying like hell to ignore the spiking sensation shooting through him from the mere feel of her skin. Smooth, soft, and warm. Like silky sand at dusk.

“Oh, no, not lightheaded, just a little off balance.”

“
Adios mio
, I’m so sorry,
Señorita
,” the waiter said without looking either of them in the face, as if embarrassed and maybe even worried about his job.

“Really, I’m okay, thank you,” she said, looking down at her feet. And then she let out a little chuckle. “Ah, there’s the issue. I broke the heel off my shoe, is all.” Her left leg bent to accommodate her shortened right one, while the displaced
four-inch
spike lay at their feet. “And, hey, it could have been a broken ankle, right?”

“
Si, si. Tenemos mucha suerte
,” the waiter said half under his breath.

“Oh, no. I don’t believe in luck,” she said to the waiter, picking up the separated stem of her stiletto.

A fellow
unbeliever?

“Or should I say, luck doesn’t believe in me. But hey, I’m thankful nonetheless.” She smiled, a kind, genuine smile.

The waiter nodded, then left them while Zack could only stare. And stare some more.

*

She let a smile lift her face. God, a smile so sweet it was sensual. He got a chest pain, a good pain, from that smile. Zack smiled back at her. Just staring and smiling, until her smile took on a more questioning look. Her gorgeous head tilted. Maybe unsure of what else to say? Because he sure as hell was.

Another silent beat went by until she noticed her purse on the ground. Zack felt panic shoot up his spine.
Shit.
She was about to leave his vicinity, his world.
Damn it, say something, asshole.

But then she bent over for the purse. Her firm yet gloriously voluptuous figure, hugged by that professional little skirt, just right in his face—God, he hated himself. He felt like a fiend, a dirty rotten monster for wanting her the way he did, imagining that ass pounding against his bare thighs. He was disgusted with himself for having such a primal desire for such an unknowingly exquisite being.

He composed himself as she stood up, and before she turned around, a small
coffee-colored
blotch on her back caught his eye. A tiny birthmark peeked out from her
low-backed
top in the shape of a puzzle piece, situated on a slight angle. It just floated there,
lost-like
. He kept his eyes on it until she pivoted around on her uneven heels to face him. He swallowed and cleared his throat. She smirked then nodded one last thanks to him and his awkward ass, and then left him standing there—his pride in the fetal position at his feet.

And Jesus, no hesitation, no glance back over her shoulder, just…nothing. Was she playing hard to get? No. She seemed too
self-assured
to play that game, and she didn’t have the attitude, either. She had a kindness in her eyes, a stoic sweetness. Games just didn’t seem her style.

Maybe married? But he hadn’t seen a ring. He would have noticed a ring.

No, it was all so much worse. He didn’t exist for her, just not on her radar, or in her very recent past, or even on her planet. She hadn’t been rude or snotty in the slightest, just wholly uninterested.

An earthquake just shook his world to a standstill. A woman, an angel, rather, just limped away from Zachary James in her one high heel without a qualm, without a care, without giving him a first, let alone a second, thought.

*

Although his headache and that mysterious void in his gut were gone—replaced by mush and goddamn butterflies!—he couldn’t catch a full breath. And when he opened his mouth to say something, to stop her, to keep her for even a moment longer, no words came out. Zack James, smooth as silk with all life matters, had become completely and hopelessly inept around a woman. Now all he could do was watch the puzzle piece on her back get smaller and smaller as she moved farther away from him.

His gaze kept on it, though, as if it was his missing piece to reclaim.

In awe of himself, he watched her get to a far off table where another woman—a much taller, older lady—stood waiting. It looked like they were about to leave.
Shit.
He needed an excuse, a quick reason to go over there. To grab a second chance, probably his last chance in gaining this angel’s attention, her electric presence. Because, now, in sharp contrast to the last few dismal days, Zack wanted something. Like a pirate wants his sunken treasure. No, not wants—needs. And it was drifting away from him on an ocean wave without a goddamn care.

Think!
He scanned his mind, then surveyed the restaurant and the other patrons, but nothing came to him. He looked down, sprinting through ideas of what the hell to do to stop the cure to his deep void before she left.

Then the glaring sunlight caught a sparkling something on the ground. An earring. A small gold hoop lying right where she’d fallen.

He couldn’t remember if she’d had earrings on. He could only remember the sweet coconut scent of her long wavy hair, the color of moonless midnight, and her heavenly doe eyes of deep desert brown outlined by a river of rich dark chocolate as she’d thanked him. And, God, the heat of her skin.

But even if the earring wasn’t hers, it would get him over there before she left the restaurant, before she vanished from his meaningless and fleeting
movie-of
-
a-life
for good. And he couldn’t let that happen, this woman captivated him like none he could remember. She was like a magnetic force, framed by the sun and sea. She could have very well been a mirage, if he hadn’t already touched her, smelled her, heard her voice minutes before and known she was real.

His angelic target and her friend had thankfully paused their departure. Why, he didn’t know, but their eyes referenced him a time or two. He might just catch her, at least he had reason to hope.

*

He began the long walk across the patio toward her table, nervous though, as if walking the plank. He gripped the earring in his sweaty hand like his life depended on it, his mind strangely blank, unsure of what he’d say when he got there, which made him question the location of his balls. “Man up, goddammit!” he mumbled to himself—another scary first.
Jesus.

As he closed in, he watched the other woman give his goddess in creamy white a kiss on the cheek, and then left her standing at the
white-clothed
table topped with
half-empty
wine glasses and a bouquet of white lilies in the center.

The other lady, with her
regal-bordering
-
on-haughty
stride, passed right by Zack to leave the restaurant, and on her way by him she whispered, “Treat her like a queen,” in his ear.

Zack smiled politely at the tall stranger and nodded his understanding. He wouldn’t ever want to get on the bad side of the Amazonian. Then he resumed his focus on the angel with a new confidence, close to his usual level of suave solidity. The tall woman’s message had been a sure sign that his angel was waiting for him, whether by choice—God, he hoped—or by pressure from departing “mother hen.” Either way, he’d treat her like a queen, all right. Fuck yes, he would.

*

He watched her like a laser as he closed in. She teetered, uneven on her feet, then finally pulled her chair out to sit. Her curvy hips folded into the seat. Zack had to stop from biting down on his fist as he pictured her sitting right down on his lap, on his hard, throbbing cock, ready to give her the ride of her life, rising and falling with his emphatic, ecstatic thrusts. But he kept his fist by his side with sheer will,
white-knuckling
it to the point of pain for having such thoughts, such dirty, impure, sinful, thoughts.

Only twenty feet from her, he watched her scoot her chair in and bump the table in the process. The glass closest to her tipped over—red wine crept in a blotchy expanse over the white cloth surface.

The soft ocean breeze became a gust in an instant which helped the glass roll and then teeter at the table’s edge in the opposite direction of his magnificent target.
Quick-paced
, he got to the table with hand extended, ready for the glass to roll smoothly into it. But he stumbled, and the glass bobbled at the tips of his fingers and then shattered to the ground in sharp array of
wide-spread
humiliation.

She looked up at him with a sweet, apologetic expression, her lush lips in a half smirk, but apparent mortification filled her
almond-shaped
eyes. Maybe her embarrassment was for him? Either way, Zack felt like a complete ass as he stood in a pile of a billion tiny glass shards. “I’m so sorry. I, uh, almost had it,” he said with heated cheeks, unable to remove his gaze from hers to assess the damage.

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault—it’s for sure mine. This kind of thing always happens to me…or around me.”

He snickered, then nothing. An awkward silence ensued that he just didn’t know how to fill. He was still too distracted by her enigmatic presence to find coherent words.

The earring, dumbass, remember the damn
earring!

Yes!
He held open his left hand to show her the gold hoop, which he saw now was a match to the one in her right ear. And behind that ear, an exotic white lily.

Wide eyed with that
nectar-sweet
yet undeniably erotic smile, she fingered her
goddamn-kissable
lobes. Finding no hoop in her left ear, her lips parted for a light gasp of surprise. “Oh, my goodness, thank you! I didn’t even know I’d lost it!”

Her fingers tickled his palm as she plucked the gold hoop up, sending a reverberating shock through his entire body. He visibly shivered. And he couldn’t even hope to hide his physical reaction to her, it being a thick and humid ninety degrees outside.

His palms were sweating still and his pulse was on uppers. It was her eroticism mixed with her sweetness and calm. And that fragrance—ocean breeze and that sweet coconut—all of it made him struggle for composure, which again was usually so easy for him to come by.

Has he fallen into a damn vortex or something?—because he had no control over anything anymore, and it freaked him out but thrilled him at the same time.

Get it together for fuck’s sake.
He saw her smile widen as his voice, finally found, cracked to a start—
again
. “Lilies are very exotic…intoxicating,” he said with a
pseudo-confidence
he pulled from somewhere. Then he leaned into her personal space and smelled the white,
satin-like
petals above her ear. “It’s really lovely, but you…” He stepped back to take her all in, ignoring the crunching sound under his feet. “
You
are just…stunning,” he said, his delivery smooth as fake silk.