Private Acts Page 12

  Too impatient to wait for her approach, he moved toward her, irritated as several men turned around on the sidewalk to look at her. When she saw him, her steps slowed and came to a complete halt. He kept moving, in between people ambling close together and talking. Past the crowded restaurant tables set up on the sidewalk café-style.

  Finally, when he stood before her, he stared at her lovely face and thought about what a fool he’d been to ever let her go. He’d wanted to fly out to Los Angeles to see her right away, but she’d told him she would come to Miami in a couple of days. He’d waited—two days, nine hours, and fifty-seven minutes to see her.

  “Hi,” she said, looking vaguely uncomfortable under his intense stare.

  He let his eyes travel down the length of her body. Her beautiful breasts sat high on her chest, and the tank tops hugged her curves in such a way he wanted to smooth his hands along the womanly lines. She looked like a goddess with her wild, wavy hair and colorful clothes.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  “You look…exquisite.”

  “Thank you.” She said the words almost shyly. So unlike her. “How are you?”

  A strange conversation for two people who knew each other as intimately as they did. “Not good. I missed you.”

  “You mentioned that over the phone already.” He tried not to let the dismissal of his words bother him. He would willingly accept whatever punishment she meted out as long as she agreed to go back with him. “How’s Aarón?”

  “He’s with my mother. He’s coming back to Ecuador with us.”

  One eyebrow arched upward. “You’re being rather presumptuous, aren’t you? I didn’t say I would go back with you.”

  “You don’t have to. I already know you will because I’m not giving you a choice. Don’t say a word,” he added when her mouth opened to no doubt laser him with a smart aleck retort. “Let’s go to the other side where it’s quieter.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he weaved his fingers through hers, and she didn’t pull away. As they waited for a lull in the traffic to cross the street, he brought the back of her hand to his lips, closed his eyes, and inhaled the fragrant scent of her skin.

  When he opened his eyes, the look in hers cut him to the core. The depth of the pain he’d caused her was there for him to see, and her lip quivered before she turned her face away.

  He cursed himself for what he’d done. He would do anything to make it up to her.

  The beach side of the street was dimmer without the barrage of lights from hotels and restaurants running along it. The ocean roared on the other side of the trees and greenery separating it from where they stood.

  “Miguel, you’re squeezing my hand too tight.”

  He loosened his hold, but didn’t—couldn’t let her go. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  Those same soul-filled eyes looked up at him, and all he wanted to do was draw her close and promise never to hurt her again.

  “I don’t understand what happened,” she said. “You told Adam you love me, but if you do, why didn’t you tell me, and why did you let me go?”

  He shook his head at the foolishness of his decision, which had seemed so sound at the time. His lightly calloused thumb stroked across the soft skin of her hand. “Because I was a fool. I let you go because I thought you would never be happy in a little city in a little country in South America. All I could think about was all the places you’d visited and I wondered why would you want to stay there with me.” His face tightened as he readied himself to share a piece of his past. “The truth is, I lost someone before, and I didn’t want it to happen again. I was trying to protect myself—my pride, my feelings—because you came to mean more to me than I ever imagined you would.”

  He then recounted the story of his mother’s departure for Colombia. He also told her about the first woman he fell in love with as a young man. The love he felt then couldn’t compare to the feelings he had for Samirah now, but at the time, the loss had been brutal.

  Those episodes in his life helped to form his future relationships, keeping them for the most part casual without certainty or promises for the future. In that way, he would never have to feel the pain of separation again.

  * * * *

  Samirah listened with sympathetic ears, wondering how any woman could leave her son to follow after a man. She realized how fortunate she was to be close to her siblings and have been raised by two loving parents, even if they were overbearing—especially her father. His love for his children caused him to be overprotective, and no matter how much she resented it growing up, the alternative looked even less appealing.

  “I thought maybe my feelings were one-sided,” she said. “I wondered if our relationship was only about sex for you. Less than a year ago, I was in a relationship that ended badly. He lied to me and used me. It was just about sex for him, and I wondered if it was the same for you. Maybe you didn’t feel the same way and…maybe you didn’t even respect me.”

  “How could you think I didn’t respect you?” A sharp frown creased his face and made him look angry. “I almost put a man through a wall for you!”

  Samirah stared at him in shock. “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind, I’ll explain later.” He took a few moments to gather his thoughts. “I do love you. Because I do, I can’t go back without you. Did your brother tell you I said that, too? My life hasn’t been the same since you entered it. I didn’t know what I was missing, and now that I do, I can’t live like I did before.” His fingers tightened around hers. “It won’t be the same, though. My brother will be living with me. No more skinny dipping in the middle of the night or walking around the house naked.” He hoped to elicit a smile, and he did.

  “Are you going to be okay with that?” Samirah asked.

  “I’ll learn to live without it.” A smile hovered around his lips.

  He said he loved her, but he didn’t make any promises beyond that. Samirah closed her eyes. Dare she take the risk?

  “Samirah?” She could hear the heavy weight of worry in his voice.

  Do what makes you happy.

  She opened her eyes. “I’m certain I want to be with you, but are you sure? You really hurt me.”

  “I know. Let me fix it. Let me make it up to you. There was never a doubt in my mind that I wanted to be with you. It’s because I wanted you so much that I thought it best to cut off our relationship. I thought it would be too hard later when you decided to leave.” He swallowed. “I know I hurt you, and maybe you hate me a little bit because of it, but I need you in my life.” He paused, and the earnest expression in his face tipped the balance in his favor. “Hate me in Cuenca.”

  “I don’t know how to hate you,” Samirah said softly. “So I guess I’ll have to love you in Cuenca.” A slow smile spread across her face.

  “I like your idea better.” He smiled back. “Ven aquí, querida,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

  They held onto each other for a little while before she smirked up at him. “I can’t make this too easy for you, so I have one condition to coming back.”

  “You want to hang me up by my toenails? Submit me to Chinese water torture?”

  “No. If I come back, no more comments about my singing. I’m singing every day, and you can’t complain.”

  “Uh, what about options one and two?”

  “Miguel!” She punched him softly, her fist hitting nothing but rock hard abs. “It’s a joke.”

  “I know, querida.” He lowered his head and tasted her lips, kissing her softly. “I’m joking too. I love your singing.”

  “Mentiroso,” she whispered.

  He laughed, and his warm breath brushed across her lips. “It’s a little lie,” he admitted. Suddenly, his expression sobered and he cupped her face in his big hands. “But I’m telling you the truth when I tell you I love you. Do you believe me?”

  She nodded. She took the softness of his kiss and burrowed her face
in his chest, taking a deep breath to revel in his clean male scent. “Has it only been a week?”

  “I know, it feels so much longer.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and trailed even more kisses down her neck. Her body awoke under the tender caresses of his lips. “It’s been too long since I’ve licked you.” His tongue slid along the sensitive spot behind her ear. A delicious shiver ran down her spine. “Kissed you.” He pressed his mouth against hers. “Tasted you.” His tongue dipped between her lips, and she moaned, softening against him.

  “Where do you stay?” he asked, his hands roaming impatiently across her back.

  “Within walking distance in a ridiculously overpriced apartment,” she answered, popping the top button on his shirt to plant a kiss on his chest below his corded necklace.

  “Good. Lead the way.”

  They stood pressed against each other and enjoyed a long kiss before they hurried down the sidewalk in the direction of her apartment.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Aarón!” Samirah called up the stairs. “Hurry up or you’ll miss the bus.” She made her way back into the kitchen and the breakfast she’d prepared that he wouldn’t have time to eat.

  She shook her head when she heard him come bounding down the stairs. He rushed into the kitchen with his book bag on his back, his face flushed and worried.

  “You’re really pushing it, mister. You know you’ll be in big trouble with Miguel if you miss it again.”

  “Sorry, Samirah.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just hurry up.”

  Aarón shoved a few forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth and grabbed a piece of toast. Samirah handed him his lunch money and he raced toward the door. She followed and stood in the doorway to watch him, but he stopped at the bottom of the steps and came rushing back to the door.

  “What did you forget?”

  “Nothing.” He hesitated for a minute, and then he gave her a hug, holding onto her with surprising strength, crushing her arms to her sides so she couldn’t reciprocate. “Thanks,” he mumbled, a soft tremor in his voice.

  Then he dashed off, and one of his new friends from another house joined him in the race up the street. She hoped he didn’t miss the bus. Last time Miguel had grounded him for a week because he had to take him to school on his motorcycle. No hanging out with friends in the neighborhood, no video games, and no television.

  Poor kid. She could tell he’d been through a lot. After six weeks, Miguel was still working on him, but they’d gotten closer, and even though Aarón pouted whenever he received a punishment for some infraction, he obviously needed the structure.

  He certainly brought out her maternal instincts and made her think about having kids of her own. Although she and Miguel had talked about the possibility of marriage, they hadn’t made any final decisions yet.

  If their relationship progressed to that point, she only wanted one or two. Not four, like her sister. The video clip Rebekah and Rafael sent a few weeks ago showed a healthy baby boy. Rafael’s smug face had declared to the camera, “I guess we’ll have to keep trying.”

  She closed the door and went into Miguel’s studio. A large sculpture kept him hard at work. As his first commissioned piece, it depicted the faces of a family of four. The blown up photograph was taped to the wall behind the image he currently worked on, a five-by-six sculpture in relief. He stood in front of it, carving the lines of hair into the little boy’s head.

  Samirah rubbed his back.

  “Did he get out of here on time?”

  “Yeah, I think he made it. Barely.” She kissed his shoulder blade. “Did you sleep down here last night?”

  “Yes, I didn’t want to disturb you by coming in and leaving again after a few hours, so I slept on the sofa. I wanted to get as much done as possible. They put down a large deposit and are paying a high price for a fast turnaround, and I don’t want to miss the deadline.”

  “You need to get some rest.”

  “I know. I appreciate all your help with him.” He turned to her, tired lines around his mouth. “What are you doing today?”

  “In a little bit I’m going next door to have coffee with Geneva and Thomas. Then I’m going into town to drop off resumes and fill out more applications. I wish that one bakery off Parque Calderon would call me. I’d love to work there.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll find something.”

  He dropped the scraper onto the table with the other tools. “I think I will take a nap. I’m tired.” He smothered a yawn. “How about I meet you for lunch?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “And ah…could you do me a favor? I have a friend who leased a space in town, right off the park. It used to be a restaurant. The previous owners abandoned it to return overseas, and he wants to open another restaurant in the same spot. I’ll take you to look at it, and I want you to tell me what you think.”

  “Sure. Which friend is it?” She wasn’t aware any of his friends were interested in opening a restaurant. Maybe she could find work there.

  “No one you know.” He walked over to the sink to wash up. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  * * * *

  Samirah sat in a shaded spot on the grass in Parque Calderon with an empty container that had previously contained roasted pork and potato cakes. She’d been so hungry she wolfed it down.

  The park was a popular hang out in town. It was filled with palm trees and benches and a well-tended lawn. Cafes and other businesses surrounded it, tucked into colonial-style buildings. From here she could see one of the city’s main attractions, the New Cathedral of Cuenca. Three domes covered in sky blue tile sat atop the Romanesque-style building across the street.

  People bustled by, an interesting blend of old and new. Some wore trendy, cosmopolitan clothing with cell phones glued to their ears. Meanwhile, several indigenous women strolled past in their colorful skirts holding the hands of their little ones with babies strapped to their backs in blankets. A man leading a small herd of goats offered fresh milk for sale.

  Reclining on one elbow, Miguel stirred beside her. He was almost finished with his food. He’d purchased a couple of humitas, a tamale-like dish made of corn, onions, cheese, and spices wrapped in a corn husk from his favorite vendor. The scent of it wafted over to Samirah and stoked her appetite even though she’d already finished her own meal.

  “Have some.” He must be a mind reader. He lifted a forkful of the fragrant dish toward her mouth. Although full, the tantalizing aroma induced her to part her lips and partake. The savory flavor of the cheese and spices intermingled with the fresh vegetables exploded across her palate, forcing out a soft moan.

  “Good, no?”

  She nodded, chewing slowly. “Heaven on a fork.”

  “Have some more.”

  She shook her head in protest. “No, I shouldn’t. Are you trying to fatten me up?”

  “No, but I like to watch you eat.”

  “You like to watch me do anything,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him.

  “True,” he murmured against her mouth. “Especially one of your strip teases.”

  “Oh, you really like that.”

  He laughed as he finished his meal. “One day I’ll get you to try cuy.”

  Samirah shook her head. She couldn’t imagine eating guinea pig, especially since the custom in Ecuador was to roast them or fry them whole—head, paws, and all.

  “How about if I cut off the head for you so it doesn’t seem so strange?”

  “How about no? I’m an adventurous eater, but I don’t care what you do, I’m not eating that.” She made a face.

  Miguel laughed and rose to his feet. He reached down to help her up.

  “Okay, let me show you the place I told you about.”

  They strolled across the street hand in hand and he let them into the building. “Wow, this is nice,” Samirah said. Her eyes roamed over the high ceilings and the little round tables set up around the room. “Sma
ll, but nice.”

  “They left all of this,” Miguel said. “The new owner bought the furniture, appliances, and everything in here at a good price.”

  “Who did you say leased this place?”

  “There’s a little courtyard in the back, too, for extra seating.” He led the way out the glass doors to the exterior.

  “Nice. Extra tables could be set up out here for sure. They could even rent this out for private parties because it’s completely enclosed by the buildings around it.”

  They walked back inside and she checked out the kitchen with Miguel following silently behind. Whoever owned the restaurant before must not have stayed long or they were extremely careful. The kitchen showed some wear and tear, but overall it was in good condition.

  Back in the main part of the restaurant, she placed her hands on her hips and scanned the room. “This is nice. Your friend is lucky. There’s not much work to be done in here, and they have a prime spot off Parque Calderon, too.”

  A little bit of envy twisted inside her. She would have to adjust her sketches, but if this were her place, she could work some magic. A takeout counter could be added over there, and bright colors would spruce the place up. Maybe orange…no, too much…a soft green, or an aqua blue.

  “So you like it?” Miguel asked, a curious tone to his voice.

  “In my opinion, it’s a good investment.”

  “In that case, it’s yours.”

  He spoke so quietly, she almost didn’t hear him. She took a good look at him. His features had tightened, and she noted the tension in his broad shoulders. “Wh-what do you mean it’s mine?”

  “What’s the matter with your English? Do you need me to spell it out for you?” he teased.

  “Miguel, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.” Had those words actually come from her mouth? She was turning down her dream. “It’s nice of you to do, but we’re still…I mean…this isn’t a gift you give your girlfriend.”

  “You’re not just my girlfriend. We live together.”