TheTemptationNotJustifiedAReFinal (16 page)

“Two
months?” she repeated, frowning. “Why two months?”

“I
have my reasons,” he said in a clipped tone.

“What
if we get tired of each other before that? What then?”

The
grim set of his face betrayed no emotion. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get
to it.”

For
several moments, Alexa mulled the idea around in her head. “Two months?” she
asked. “That’s it—nothing more?”

“Unless
you want more?”

“You
wish.” Alexa turned her back on him to think clearly.

Two
months. Sixty days. Not an eternity, but it could seem like it if she moved
back in with Leonardo and was subjected to whatever his demands were. There was
no telling how many ways he had conjured up to punish her for what she did. She
knew he would be merciless because she’d seen how he handled business opponents
who crossed him.

“Come
now, Alexa,” he crooned, directly behind her now.

She
could feel his warm breath fan across the nape of her neck. She shut her eyes
briefly and wished she didn’t enjoy it, wished she didn’t want more than that
featherlight sensation. She shouldn’t. She needed his help, but he was still
the enemy, and her body refused to acknowledge that. Instead, a tingling sensation
crept along her inner thighs.

“Even
if we were not compatible in other areas of our marriage, we never had problems
satisfying each other in bed.”

Alexa’s
pulse quickened at the intimate tone of his voice, the way it dropped several
octaves and whispered across her skin like a caress.

“That’s
beside the point.”

She
swallowed past the lump that formed out of nowhere in her throat. She didn’t
want to admit how correct he was. They had always been great together. She had
always found him irresistible, with his strong jaw, smooth, beautiful bronzed
skin, and a perfect, muscular male body that could put any Greek god to shame.

“The
choice is yours, Alexa. You came here for a reason, to get money for your
brother. I’m willing to give you the money.”

She
whirled around, drawing a sharp breath at his close proximity. She made an
impulsive step back.

“You’ll
do it, but for a price. There’re strings attached.”

“Did
you think you could come here and charm me into handing over such a large sum
of money—for nothing?”

She
hadn’t really thought that, but she’d hoped it was a possibility. She wouldn’t
admit it, though. It was ludicrous for her to even have considered coming here,
much less asking for money. If she hadn’t been so desperate to help her
brother, she would have never needed to step foot in Leonardo’s opulent office
again. She decided to try one more time to reason with him.

“Are
there any other terms you’d consider? We could pay you back, Leo. It would take
time, but—”

“You
couldn’t afford the interest,” he interrupted in a brusque tone. His chiseled
face became as hard as stone. There was no softness in him at all toward her or
her predicament. “Your brother’s a high risk. Besides, that’s not what I want.
I told you what I want. Now you need to make a decision.”

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Excerpt from
Fight for Love
,
Book 2 of the Hot Latin Men series

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Romance Ebooks
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Science teacher Rebekah
Jamison lives a quiet life in the suburbs of Atlanta. Devastated by a tabloid
scandal nine years ago, she ended her marriage to the man her parents never
approved of. Rafael Lopez, former professional wrestler and “Sexiest Athlete
Alive,” regrets the lapse in judgment that caused him to lose his wife. He
shows up unannounced one day with some startling news, but he gets a surprise
of his own. He finds out he’s a father. To get to know his son, he whisks him
and Rebekah off to his home in the Hollywood Hills for the summer.

Chapter
One

Rebekah
Jamison wiped sweat from her cheeks with the back of her forearm so she
wouldn’t scratch her face with the rough, dirty gloves she wore. The edges of
her headscarf were damp. The cut-off denim shorts and loose-fitting tank top
had seen better days, but they were comfortable, and she preferred to wear as
little clothing as possible when she worked in the yard. The vegetable garden
was a treat, but it could also be quite taxing in the Georgia heat.

“Mom,
look!” her eight-year-old called from a few feet away. He was grinning broadly,
holding a worm in his palm for her to see.

“Sweetie,
put that down,” Rebekah scolded from her position on her knees.

She
had encouraged him to help her plant the fall vegetables, but he was turning
out to be a distraction she didn’t need. Every so often he would wander away
from the task, digging in the dirt where she didn’t tell him to dig and chasing
after wasps and butterflies that flitted around the small, privacy-fenced yard.

She
probably would have been farther along if he weren’t “working” with her, but
she enjoyed their moments together. Nine months out of the year she taught
middle school kids about conservation, alternative energy, and green living as
a science teacher in metro Atlanta. The biggest perk of working for the school
system was that she could spend the summers with the favorite man in her life.

Rebekah
rose to her feet and dusted off her knee pads. “Maybe it’s time for a break,”
she announced. She removed the large straw hat providing protection from the scorching
sun.

“Can
I have some sweet tea?” His brown face looked up at her expectantly. He was
overdue for a haircut. The loose, dark curls on his head were thick and unruly.
With his cute, angelic face and big gray eyes staring up at her, she couldn’t
refuse him the indulgence this time.

“Yes,
but only if you drink a glass of water right after.”

“I
will, I will,” Ricardo promised, racing past her toward the back door of the
kitchen.

She
would make sure he drank water the rest of the day. He had developed a sweet
tooth of late, and she wanted to break him from the habit of sugary drinks.
Besides, he needed to stay hydrated since he spent so much time outdoors.

Rebekah
removed her knee pads and gloves and circled the small area where this year’s
crop of summer vegetables was planted. She smiled. Last year she’d had enough
squash, tomatoes, cucumbers, and green peppers to share with her parents and a
couple of neighbors. This year’s crop appeared just as healthy and bountiful.

The
ringing of the doorbell brought her head up.

“I
got it!”

“Ricky,
don’t open the door unless you know who it is first.”

He
knew better, but it didn’t hurt to remind him. She hoped it was the delivery
she was expecting from her sister, Samirah. They were souvenirs for the family
from her latest jaunt overseas. She often sent them nice gifts from her
travels. Rebekah sometimes envied her younger sister’s carefree lifestyle.
Samirah had a culinary degree from Le Cordon Bleu, and she traveled the world,
earning her keep as a cook in restaurants or private residences.

“Mom,
come quick!”

Rebekah
dropped everything in her hands and raced into the kitchen, uncertain if
Ricardo’s tone expressed excitement or anxiety.

He
stood in front of the open front door, staring at someone outside. As she came closer,
he caught sight of her and began to hop up and down excitedly, pointing with
his hand to the still-invisible person on the other side of the threshold.

“Look!
Look! It’s
La Sombra
, Mom! It’s
La Sombra
!” he screamed
excitedly.

Rebekah
skidded to a halt, her feet no longer sure what to do since her brain
temporarily ceased to function. Heavy knots piled up in her stomach, and her
broken breath shivered past her suddenly parched lips.

It
couldn’t be him.

Ricardo’s
face was alight with glee, and his uncontrolled excitement was a comical
contrast to the heavy dread pressing down on her. She moved slowly toward the
door, closing her hands into tight fists to calm their shaking.

When
the person came into view, her stomach muscles clenched into even tighter, more
painful knots.

There
was no doubt who the man was at the door. It had been nine years since she’d
last seen him in person, but his image appeared on the occasional magazine, and
she’d read articles about him online. Even if he weren’t a public figure and
she had wanted to forget him, it would have been impossible because of the
pint-sized, darker version of him bouncing up and down like a rubber ball just
a few feet away.

La
Sombra
had been
the alias he used when he was a professional wrestler. The nickname, which
meant “the Shadow” in Spanish, had stuck because of his dark complexion. His
real name was Rafael Lopez, and he was her ex-husband.

His
gaze lifted from the small boy before him and settled on her. From the firming
of his sculpted mouth and the hard glint that came into his gray eyes, she knew
he’d already deduced the obvious.

The
young boy whose excited reception he had just received was the son he had never
known existed.

Chapter
Two

Rebekah
placed her hand on Ricardo’s shoulder. “Ricky, go upstairs, sweetie,” she said.
“I need to have a word with…” She didn’t even know what to call him “…with Mr.
Sombra.”

“But
Mom…”

She
gave him her stern face that meant she wasn’t playing around. “
Now
.”

With
a heavy pout, Ricardo stomped toward the staircase.

“
Ricardo
Lopez
,” Rebekah said, “do you want me to follow you and give you something
to stomp about?”

He
froze with his hand on the wooden stair rail and peered over his shoulder at
Rebekah with a hurt expression on his face. “Sorry, Mom,” he said quietly.
Twisting his head further without turning completely around, he looked at
Rafael, who hadn’t made a move during the short tantrum. “Please excuse my
behavior, Mr. Sombra. My mother raised me better than that.”

Rebekah
almost smiled as he repeated almost verbatim words she’d said to him on other
occasions. His pitiful expression almost undid her, but she kept her face in an
unhappy scowl.

“Will
I be able to get his autograph?” her son asked.

“Yes,”
Rafael interjected. He stepped into the house, and the expansive width of his
broad frame blocked most of the outdoor light. “Just as soon as your mother and
I have a little chat.”

Ricardo’s
face broke out into a happy grin, and he scampered up the stairs.

Rebekah’s
heart kick-started with a thump, the matter-of-fact tone doing nothing to allay
the frisson of fear that trickled down her spine. Even more disconcerting was
her reaction to the deep, seductive sound of his accented voice. It scrambled
her brain and sent unwelcome vibrations running through her.

She
didn’t dare look at him, worried he’d see every emotion she felt. Shame.
Excitement. Anxiety. She needed time to gather her thoughts so she could have a
coherent conversation. The shock of his unannounced arrival sharply tipped the
balance of her normally ordered day toward disorder.

Deafening
silence descended between them, and Rafael was the first to break it. “We need
to talk.”

As
he shut the door on the outside world, Rebekah finally ventured a look at him.
His thick black hair was closely shorn to his head. At five-feet-seven, she
wasn’t a small woman, but Rafael dwarfed her at six-foot-three. He had an
incredible physique, with muscles so densely packed the linen button-down shirt
couldn’t conceal them. His muscles were tightly honed from years of weight
lifting and hours of exercise, creating a fighting machine of flesh-covered
steel. Each meaty bicep was the size of one of her thighs, and his lean fingers
looked long enough to span the width of a basketball.

“Sexiest
Athlete Alive,” headlines had proclaimed two years in a row. More recently, his
rugged good looks could be seen smiling into the camera endorsing agave nectar,
an all-natural sweetener exported from Mexico.

When
his dark gaze rested on her, the last remnants of rational thought disappeared
like a puff of smoke in a blast of wind. For a few seconds, her breath caught
in her chest, and she was once again the seventeen-year-old girl who had
anxiously awaited her eighteenth birthday so she could run away and marry the
man of her dreams. He became the twenty-year-old rough neck from south of the
border who had captured her heart and convinced her not to judge a book by its
cover. His coarse exterior had disguised a tender heart and loving
disposition—or so she’d thought. Her disapproving parents had been correct in
their initial assessment of him. Rafael had changed once they were married, and
not for the better.