Chapter 3
3
C amila pulled up outside the airport, her palms sweaty and her stomach a haven for butterflies. She sat in the car, watching passengers coming and going as she waited for Alejandro to arrive.
When he finally exited the building, the air stilled, and the world stopped spinning on its axis. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, and his short-cropped hair was covered by a cowboy hat, but she recognized him immediately. She had known him too long not to.
He loved dark colors the same way she loved the color purple. He wore dark jeans and a black and gray muscle shirt that showed off his tattooed forearms and biceps. A brown duffel bag was thrown over one shoulder.
Several people—men and women—turned to stare at him, and she couldn’t blame them. He was… eye-catching. Mesmerizing—his mestizo heritage blessing him with golden, tanned skin.
Her fingers tightened on her blinged out steering wheel as she held her breath, her heart thumping with each measured step he took along the sidewalk.
“Get out of the car,” Camila whispered to herself.
At that very moment, Alejandro spotted her purple Beetle and paused, silently commanding her to get her ass out of the vehicle and come greet him. She took a deep breath, climbed out, and went up on the sidewalk, grinning and placing her hands on her round hips.
Alejandro approached slowly, leisurely, his walk as tantalizing as his appearance.
At almost 6’3, he was bulked up with muscles that displayed his strength and power.Tattoos crawled up the left side of his neck—two hissing snakes engulfed in flames. More tats covered his left arm, which she knew went all the way to his shoulder and across his left pec. His right arm was covered in tattoos up to his elbow.
His lips were a sculpted masterpiece, and for years, she’d fantasized about what they would feel like but had never had the pleasure of sampling them.At the moment, they appeared seductive with a roguish smile, but at other times, they hinted at a predatory ruthlessness he had acquired at a young age.
Why had she insisted he stay with her? He’d suggested staying in a hotel, but she had pointed out that she had an extra room since moving into her new place, and there was no need for him to spend the money. Privately, she believed she owed him. When her mother had died, he became her anchor, and his friendship had been invaluable.
They went back and forth until the argument became awkward and he finally gave in. Because she’d insisted . Now she wished she hadn’t. She was definitely a glutton for punishment.
“Look at you,” he said, stopping in front of her.
His voice was lethally seductive.Heavy and deeply masculine, accented with the endearing sound of rolled r’s and a cadence that caused each word to flow with the warmth and rhythm of his native Spanish.
She couldn’t see his eyes but by the tilt of his head knew that he looked her up and down. “Come here.”
He didn’t wait for her to move. He pulled her into a hug, and desire immediately dampened her panties. She winced but in the next breath happily squealed as he lifted her off the ground with one arm, crushing her soft breasts against his hard chest. His trimmed beard brushed against her cheek and tickled her skin.
When he finally placed her back on her feet, she breathed easier.
“Good to see you, güey ,” he said.
Camila hated when he called her that— dude, buddy —and grimaced internally. It meant he considered her one of the guys, and she wanted to be… more.
“Good to see you.” She squeezed his biceps. “Have you gotten more muscular?”
“ Tal vez ,” he said with a cocky grin.
Camila rolled her eyes. “How was your flight?”
“I cannot complain. I arrived safely.” He wore several black necklaces and kissed the black cross pendant on one of them. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Not a problem.”
But having him in her home was going to be a problem. How the heck was she going to survive the next two days when her panties were already wet from a simple hug?
“I can’t believe you still have this thing.” Alejandro eyed the car.
“Why do you hate my baby so much?”
“It’s an attention getter. You cannot be incognito in a purple vehicle everybody knows you own.”
She shrugged. “I like being known. I’m not an FBI agent like you.”
“I am not an FBI agent.”
He’d never told her about his work for the government organization that had trained him as a young man. She didn’t even know its name. Now he worked for The Cordoba Agency, a company that provided investigative and bodyguard services. As far as she was concerned, he might as well be FBI. She worried about him and the work he did but took comfort in knowing he was good at his job.
“Put your bag in the back.” Camila hit the key fob, and the trunk opened. While he placed his bag inside, she slid behind the wheel.
Seconds later, Alejandro joined her. Because of his size, everything else shrunk in comparison, and her car suddenly felt way too small for the two of them.
He pushed back the seat to accommodate his long legs.
“Good?” she asked, starting the engine.
“Good,” he confirmed.
She checked the mirrors and then slowly pulled away from the curb.
Alejandro clapped his hands together. “So what’s the plan? How much trouble are we getting into tonight?”
“Not too much. Miguel and Patrice are having a combined bachelor and bachelorette party, so you’ll have to be on your best behavior, and thankfully, you won’t be able to get my brother into any trouble.”
Alejandro groaned and muttered a curse.
“Sorry.” Camila shrugged, though she was anything but sorry.
“I guess I’ll have to behave myself,” he muttered. “So, tell me what you’ve been up to.”
They didn’t talk as much as they used to, and the last time they saw each other was over a year ago when he came for her mother’s funeral.
“I’ve been working on new articles for Sin City Pulse . The owner allowed me to write a few hard-hitting pieces, including a whole series on the homeless situation in Las Vegas. He wants me to do more features like that.”
“More than the usual Top Ten Must-See Attractions in Vegas pieces?” he teased.
“Yes, more than that.”
Camila smiled briefly. Alejandro had a great sense of humor, but most people didn’t see that side of him. It was reserved for the people closest to him. She knew the complexity of the man he was. Everyone else saw a tough guy with a mean, take-no-shit face, but it didn’t detract from his attractiveness, which was multiplied when he dared smile.
“Not too long ago, he asked if I’d be interested in taking over the website,” Camila continued.
“Would you do that?” he asked, sounding surprised.
She flicked on her indicator to go around a slow-moving car. “I thought long and hard about the offer and realized I do not want the responsibility. I’m pretty happy doing what I do, earning a base salary and a percentage of the ad revenue, without the headache of responsibility he has. If he wasn’t so candid about the problems with the other writers, IT, et cetera, I might have accepted his offer. However, I have zero interest in taking over for him.”
“Sounds like he shot himself in the foot,” Alejandro said.
She laughed softly. “He did. Have you had any interesting assignments lately?”
“No. I’ve mostly been doing paperwork and working a few local bodyguard assignments. Temporary jobs. Nothing major.”
“Or dangerous?” Camila asked.
“Or dangerous,” he confirmed, though she didn’t quite believe him. “Little Miguel is getting married. I can’t believe it,” Alejandro said with a shake of his head.
At twenty-eight, Miguel was five years younger than Camila. They had both been born in LA before the family moved to Las Vegas. Their mother was from Mexico and their father African-American, and they spent summers with their maternal grandmother in a small town in the state of Jalisco. As kids, Miguel tried to follow Camila, Alejandro, and Emilio—their other good friend—around, but they always shooed him away and made him play with the kids his age.
“He’s not so little anymore, but I can’t believe it either. And he actually got someone to agree to marry him!” Camila slowed to a stop at a red light.
“He is a good guy, and earning his PhD is a big deal. I’m sorry I missed his hooding ceremony.”
“He understood you’re a busy man—protecting clients, saving the world.”
Alejandro let out a soft, sexy chuckle that made her nipples tighten. Everything he did was sexy.
“I am not saving the world. Trust me,” he said.
Again, she didn’t quite believe him.
After a few more minutes, they arrived at the two-bedroom house she rented in a small community with a pool, tennis courts, and walking trails. She pulled under the carport and led the way inside.
“This is my humble abode,” she announced, tossing the keys on the counter. “As you can see, it’s nicer than the one-bedroom apartment I used to live in.”
Coming in through the carport, they entered the dining room/living room combination and faced the small kitchen separated by a bar. A big, comfy looking purple sofa and two purple and pearl-gray armchairs were in the living room area facing a television mounted on the wall. The white walls were mostly empty, except for a few family photos, including a picture of her as a young girl with her grandmother in Jalisco.
“Very nice,” he remarked.
“It’s okay. I haven’t done much decorating, but it’s home, for now.”
“For now?”
Camila shrugged. “I don’t know how long I’ll stay in Vegas. I’m getting restless, I guess. Miguel is getting married, and Mommy and Daddy are gone.” Her husband was gone too. There was no reason for her to stay.
“What about the house? Have you sold it?” He asked the words gently, carefully.
Probably because he knew her parents’ death was a sensitive topic for her. She did her best to hide how much losing them had affected her, but losing loving parents was difficult for anyone, and she and her parents had been particularly close. She truly hadn’t fully recovered from first her father’s death from leukemia, then her mother’s unexpected heart failure two years later on the anniversary of his death.
She shook her head as pain sliced through her. “The house is still there, empty. I pay a cleaning service to go in once a month, but other than that, I can’t bring myself to box up their things, and I can’t bring myself to sell the house. I grew up there. We had so many meals and parties and celebrations there. Too many memories.”
“Do you know where you want to live, if you move?” Alejandro asked.
Camila blew out a breath. “Not yet. Still deciding. Maybe I’ll move back to LA. Who knows? Let me show you to your room.”
She led Alejandro down the short white hall. “This is the bathroom,” she said, shoving open the first door to the left. She continued down the hall. “This is where you’ll sleep, and my room is at the end.” She pointed at the closed door.
Alejandro entered the guest room, a small, sparsely furnished room with a dresser and a queen bed large enough to accommodate his big body. Floral print sheets and a light-weight green blanket covered the bed.
“Thanks, this is nice.” He tossed his duffel bag on the floor.
“Much better than sleeping under the stars, right?” Camila asked with a grin.
He frowned in confusion, then a faint smile touched his lips as he remembered. They were twelve and thirteen when the two of them were out at night, talking about their dreams. She had told him he had to come to the United States one day to see her. He had listened to her tell him stories and admitted he dreamed of visiting Las Vegas, but he lived with his grandmother, and they didn’t have a lot of extra money—certainly not for traveling.
Staring up at the black sky, they had fallen asleep on the grass, only awakening when her grandmother found them and sent Alejandro home.
She had glared down at them. “ Xochitl Camila ,” she had said, fists on her ample hips, calling her by her first name—the name of her Aztec ancestors.
Her indigenous grandfather had given her the name, which meant “flower” in the Nahuatl language and symbolized grace and natural splendor. She went by Camila because most people, including Mexicans, couldn’t pronounce her name correctly. Alejandro had learned to pronounce her name properly, and she had always appreciated the effort.
“Se?ora Carrizosa was not happy. I was worried she’d cut you off from me,” he said.
“We weren’t doing anything wrong, so I knew she wouldn’t, but staying out that late, when she didn’t know where I was, was not a good idea. Well, I have some work to finish, an article, so I’ll have tonight and tomorrow to devote to the happy couple. Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine.”
“If you do need anything, help yourself,” Camila said. “There’s plenty of food and drinks and beer in the fridge. Mi casa es su casa .”
“ Gracias .”
She paused on her way out. “I’m glad you came, Alejandro. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too.” He tilted his head to the side, concern in his eyes. “?Estás bien?”
She smiled briefly. “Yes, I’m fine.”
She left him alone, and the familiar heaviness in her lower belly appeared, a reminder of long held regrets.