"The night she got lucky" - читать интересную книгу автора (Donovan Susan)

CHAPTER 2

Lucio had strolled across the lawn to the spot under the live oaks where, just hours ago, his friend Rick Rousseau had taken his wedding vows with a sweet and funny newspaper obituary writer named Josie Sheehan. It was a turn of events Lucio would never have predicted for his old running buddy, but, as he well knew, few things in life go the way we envision. His current situation was proof of that.

Lucio took a seat on the thick stone wall dividing the lawn from the gardens, then situated himself so that he faced west. The light here reminded him of home, the magical hills between Spain's highest mountains and the Mediterranean, with its fig trees and flowers, lemons and pomegranates, all that decadent bounty. He'd been gone nearly twenty years and had long ago acquired U.S. citizenship, but that sunny valley by the sea was the only true home he'd ever known, and would likely remain so. He'd used San Francisco as his base of operations for many years, but he was here so rarely it no longer even made sense to keep an apartment.

Lucio raised one knee and propped an arm on it, smiling to himself. Yes, Ginger Garrison was a beautiful woman, and it had been a real pleasure to have her in his arms and under his lips. But a woman was the last thing he should be concerned about. He'd come to San Francisco on the most serious of errandswinning back his reputation and rebuilding his careerand a woman could not possibly aid him in either pursuit. Wasn't his weakness for women at least partially to blame for his present circumstances?

Lucio shook his head. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

He'd already been in town three months, sleeping on a friend's couch or in his agent's guest room until Rick blew him away with kindness and offered Lucio the use of his house in town while he and Josie were on their honeymoon. Then, just before the wedding earlier that day, Rick had told Lucio that the house was his for as long as he needed it, because the couple had decided to make the wine-country ranch their full-time home. Lucio had been speechless.

Someday I will repay you for your generosity, he'd told Rick.

His longtime friend put his arm around his shoulder and said there was no need. You were there for me when I needed you, Lucky. This is what friends do for each other.

Lucio recalled how touched he was by Rick's offer, and chuckled softly to himself. They were no longer the wild boys they once were, cutting a swath through the continents in pursuit of adventure and pleasureand, for Lucio at least, an occasional paycheck. They had both made many mistakes in those years and the ones that followed. They had learned some hard lessons. And they had both come to appreciate the true value of friendship.

As it turned out, Rick's Pacific Heights home was luxurious and convenient to everything Lucio needed. His agent lived only four blocks east in the same exclusive San Francisco neighborhood, much to the man's chagrin.

I will do everything in my power for you, as always, Sydney Frankel told him the last time they'd talked. But I am only human.

And the house was just a short trolley ride away from Lucio's friend and fellow photographer Piers Skaarsgard, who'd lent him his couch for weeks on end. It had been especially generous of Piers considering the fact that Piers's wife had died of leukemia just months before.

It's good to have another beating heart in the place again, Piers had said to Lucio his first night in the apartment. Stay as long as you'd like.

Lucio sighed. The rich and rewarding life he'd built for himself over twenty years was gone. It had collapsed'se derrumbothat was the only word he could use to describe it. Instantly, he'd gone from the peak of his success to piecing together a day-to-day existence.

Just months ago he was finishing an assignment in the northern deserts of China, chronicling the effect of pollution and climate change on the region's wildlife. He had finalized travel plans for his next assignment, to Galapagos. And he'd recently learned he'd won the prestigious Erskine Prize for achievement in nature photography. He began to make travel plans to be in New York in December for the ceremony, where he'd be handed a check for a quarter of a million in U.S. dollars.

And then it all came crashing down.

First, some of his raw digital video went missing. Soon after, the U.S. embassy in Beijing sent word that Lucio was in danger of being deported. The missing video had been leaked to the Chinese government, which found the images shameful, and in Lucio's opinion, they should have. At first, the Chinese claimed Lucio's work was hostile to the People's Republic. Days later, the Chinese amped up their claim, calling Lucio's work an act of espionage intended to weaken the country's international standing. Two additional details made the mess even messier: About fifty thousand in Geographica funds had been drained from Lucio's expense account, and word got out that Lucio had been bedding his official Chinese guide, the thirty-year-old daughter of a high-ranking government official, and the man went nuts over the shame his daughter had brought to him.

Days of in-person and Internet meetings followed. Lucio admitted it; he lost his cool a few times with the Chinese, the American consulate, and with his Geographica editorsbut the accusations were pure insanity! Lucio vehemently denied charges of spying and stealing the money from his own expense account. It was all rubbish.

Nobody seemed to listen. Before he knew it, he was kicked out of the country and released from his Geographica contract, putting an end to a long and profitable professional alliance.

Piers encouraged Lucio to come back to San Francisco. That's what Lucio didwith his tail between his legs and his wallet openready to funnel every dime he had to his lawyer, who he prayed would untangle the string of misunderstandings. But that had been three months ago. With each day, it seemed to Lucio that the nickname he'd carried since childhood no longer fit him.

He shook his head and rose from the stone wall, deciding to stroll into the heavily scented gardens of Rick's Sonoma Valley paradise. It was funny how life sometimes doubled in on itself. He was thousands of miles from the fig trees and strawberry patches of his childhood, but this place smelled much the same to him, and the scent had conjured up long-buried memories.

Alma had worn a simple ivory lace dress that fell to mid-calf, accented by an angry scowl. She carried a bouquet of wildflowers in front of her belly, camouflaging the baby that grew inside it. Lucio recalled how his throat had tightened at the sight of herand it wasn't out of joy. Unlike Rick and Josie's ceremony, his own wedding hadn't been about love. Or even family alliances. It was simply the only choice given to two hormonal kids who'd shucked their common senseand their clotheson a hot spring night at the riverbank.

The truth was that when Alma lost the baby just weeks after the wedding, Lucio was relieved. She blamed him, of course. He was the one who had dragged her to the ugly, dirty, crowded city and was too busy with his studies to take care of her. Her brothers came to Seville to fetch her back to their village. The annulment papers came within a month.

At the time, Lucio felt as if he'd dodged a bullet. The life he planned would not have been possible with a wife and child.

But lately, Lucio would find himself stopping in the middle of a shoot or waking in the deep of night, overcome with the truth: If the child had lived, his son would be a man now. Lucio would be father to a tall, handsome, and ambitious young man, who might even have an eye for the light like his renowned father. But he would never know.

Lucio?

He turned, surprised to see Ginger Garrison approaching him in the twilight. She'd changed out of her satin and chiffon and into a pretty knee-length skirt and simple top. Her hair was down. She wore no jewelry, and she didn't need it. Her cheeks were flushed. Her pretty little toes peeped out of a pair of delicate sandals.

He stared at her. The strange energy he'd felt when he kissed her had returned, making his skin tingle. Lucio watched as the beautiful woman moved closer, her shoulder brushing against a stand of tall gardenias, releasing their perfume. Ginger smiled at him. It was a shy smile from a mature woman, and the beguiling power of that combination pierced his heart.

Nothing good would come of this. He was certain. The timing was all wrong. Holy Host! He was all wrong! Ginger Garrison deserved a stable man, a man with his own home and money in the bank, a man who wouldn't be on a plane to Galapagos the instant it became feasible.

But he returned her smile, because those details had never stopped him in the past, and they wouldn't now. As always, Lucio's only obligation was to issue his standard word of caution, leaving the woman responsible for her own fate.

Unfortunately, I am no good for you, guapa.

Lucio's words stopped Ginger cold. She choked on her surprise. Did this man think she'd come down to the garden to hit on him? While his presumptuousness offended her, he probably had his reasons for saying it.

Lucio Montevez was an intoxicating man, a deadly combination of brawn and beauty. He had an edge Ginger imagined a bullfighter would possessan intense gaze, perfect posture, muscles coiled and ready to spring to lifeall while oozing the velvety charm of a gigolo. She could see this dichotomy repeated everywhere in him, each smooth and elegant thing about Lucio balanced out by something over-the-top macho. His big brown eyes were liquid and sultry, but they were capped by a thick, dramatic brow. His mouth was full and sexy, but framed by rough-looking stubble on his upper lip, cheeks, and chin. His wavy dark hair was long and thick, but combed back, close to his perfectly shaped head. He walked with grace, but was tall and muscular. Ginger figured all this would be too much for the average female to resist, and women probably lined up around the block to get a peek at him wherever he went.

Ginger took a moment to remind herself that she'd always been above average.

I'm afraid you misunderstand me, she said, her voice as friendly as she could make it. I just came to thank you for your help today and discuss with you when we might schedule the photo sitting.

The what? Lucio cocked his head quizzically.

Before the wedding ceremony you told me you took nature photographs. I asked if you'd take a portrait of me and my bichon and you said you'd be happy to.

I did?

Was this some kind of joke? Ginger put her hands on her hips and frowned. Yes, you did. You told me you were interested in expanding your business into weddings and pet portraits.

Ahh. Lucio had up until that point kept his body turned to the vineyards while looking over his shoulder to address Ginger. He decided to face her square on, and a smile escaped his lips as he turned. Of course I did. It's all coming back to me now.

Ginger rolled her eyes. So that was just a crock of shit, some kind of pickup line you use?

Lucio laughed. His laugh was hearty and loose, and it traveled up into the breeze. He was obviously a man who liked to laugh, and his enjoyment was contagious. Ginger would have laughed along with him if she weren't so angry.

It is not a crock, precisely, but I must admit I stretched the truth in order to have a conversation with you.

Ginger sighed. She was getting a bad feeling about this guy. It was never a good sign when a man stretched the truth at the first meeting, since, in her experience, truth-stretching was only one tiny step away from outright lying. So you're not really a professional photographer?

He flashed a big, white smile. I am, bonita, but my subject has been the larger scope of nature along with an occasional yak or Komodo dragon. The small domesticated lapdogsnot so much.

Ginger felt her blood rising. Not only was he messing with her, he was enjoying it. Then why did you offer to take a picture of me and HeatherLynn? She took a step closer, feeling the garden shadows envelop them. And, better yet, why were you taking pictures of Josie and Rick's ceremony today? Sonoma Valley isn't exactly the yak capital of the world.

Lucio laughed again, holding out his hand to her. Would you care to take a walk with me?

Ginger stepped back instinctively. I'm going to dinner with my friends soon.

Ah, then we will make it a short walk.

It's getting dark. She swallowed hard, feeling that strange pull of energy between them once more. It was almost as if she feared touching him againbecause the spark would be impossible to resist.

Lucio smiled gently. Please understand that when I said I am no good for you just now, I meant that I cannot recommend myself as a boyfriend.

Ginger's eyes went wide.

However, I would never hurt you. You will be safe on a friendly walk with me. The warmth of Lucio's smile intensified as he continued to hold his hand out to her.

Ginger crossed her arms protectively over her chest. I'm not in the market for a boyfriend, Mr. Montevez, and if I were, you would not be my choice. I try to avoid men who stretch the truth.

Lucio nodded silently. His hand fell to his side.

Besides, I'm simply interested in having a professional portrait taken of me and my dog. I'll find someone in the Yellow Pages to do it.

Ginger was about to turn and go when Lucio stepped in close, his dark eyes shimmering with what little light remained. I stand corrected then, Senora Garrison. Please forgive my insolence.

Ginger pursed her lips and tried to evade the pull of his dramatic eyes. All right, she said.

So, you will come with me now, yes? Lucio's hand rose from his side once more, palm up, as if to show the harmless nature of his offer. We will walk and I will tell you how I came to be taking pictures at my friend Rick's wedding, and you can tell me more about the charming and pretty Josie, his bride. And then we will say good-bye.

It was one of those moments that seemed disconnected from clock time. Ginger had no idea how long she stood there, her gaze alternating between Lucio's warm eyes and his outstretched hand, weighing the pros and cons of his offer. Who was she fooling? She already knew in her heart that this wasn't about a portrait sittingthis was about him.

She'd been fascinated by the man the second she'd spotted him milling about the lawn, taking candid photos of the wedding guests prior to the ceremony, pounds of heavy-looking camera gear slung around his neck and shoulders. He seemed dark and mysterious. Exotic. Languid and sexy, despite all the equipment. He had reminded her of a panther, sleek and dark, as he moved across the grass.

Dr. Larry Garrison he was not.

Ginger did not reach for his hand. She knew that if she did, there would be no turning back, that despite her above-average qualities, she would get sucked into the languid and sexy orbit of this dark-eyed panther man. And she couldn't possibly do that, because she was done being a fool. She was sick of being hurt. Besides, she had boys to raise, an ex-husband to rehabilitate, and a career to rescue.

Now was not a good time.

Lucio let his hand drop again. I cannot blame you, bonita. When it comes to men it is always smart to err on the side of caution, and I see you are a very smart woman.

Ha! Now that was a word Ginger had not applied to her personal life in a long while. In recent years she'd come to doubt not only her intelligence but also her basic good judgment. In college, her mantra had been Follow your bliss. These days it was What the hell were you thinking?

Ginger knew that if she were truly smart, she wouldn't have come out here to talk to Lucio. She wouldn't be standing here next to him in the low light of evening, aware of the closeness of his body, the scent of his skin, the weird energy bouncing around between them. If she were smart, she would have stayed away from him entirely. If she were smart, she would have ordered a size six bridesmaid's dress and avoided this entire dilemma.

And if she were really, really smart, she wouldn't do what she was about to do.

Ginger took a breath. She reached out a trembling hand. Here is my card. My numbers are on the back.

Lucio took it, intentionally letting his fingers brush across the top of her hand. Ginger nearly jumped off the ground.

He raised a single dark eyebrow and gave her a tentative smile. I am not sure what this means, senora.

It means if you suddenly feel the need to photograph lapdogs, give me a shout. Good night, Lucio.

Ginger turned and walked away, leaving Lucio in the garden. She knew he was checking her out. She could feel the heat of his stare all over her legs and backside. But he said nothing. He let her go without a fight.

Ginger appreciated that he'd respected her wishesfor the most part, anyway.

It was hours later when the four women raised a glass to Josie and Rick and enjoyed a leisurely dinner at Carneros Bistro in downtown Sonoma. While they ate, Ginger got the distinct impression that Mrs. Needleman was taking Bea under her wingto what end, she wasn't sure. Bea was an assistant sports editor at the Herald who spent most of her free time driving her Finnish spitz to West Coast dog agility contests. Bea was also a former Olympic swimmerexcept that she had never gotten to compete in the 1980 games because of the boycott, a tragedy she'd just described to Mrs. Needleman in dramatic detail. Ginger couldn't imagine what Mrs. Needleman and Bea had in common, but their camaraderie was obvious.

Roxie seemed antsy all through dinner, and Ginger couldn't blame her. Her friend's life was in transition and she knew she just wanted to get home. Roxie had been the criminal courts reporter for the Herald, but just weeks after an ugly breakup with her boyfriend, the paper had canned her. Roxie was trying to make a go of a Web site called i-vomit-on-all-men.com, an online community where women shared boyfriend horror stories from around the world. She'd recently expanded into retail sales of hats, shopping bags, shirts, bumper stickers, and coffee mugs, and she was struggling to keep up with demand.

But the most immediate source of Roxie's anxiety was probably the phone calls she'd received from the kennel where her behaviorally challenged dog was being boarded. They'd informed her that Lilith was not socializing well with male dogs and male kennel workers. This was not a shocker.

Though Ginger had enjoyed the tasty seared tuna and the mixed green salad, she couldn't relax during dinner, either. Her mind kept wandering back to Luciothe expression on his face when she gave him her card, that sly grin that revealed his amusement at her lack of willpower. All she'd needed to do was say good-bye and walk away. But she'd left the door open for Lucio when she gave him her card.

Why? Why? Why had she done that? She didn't need a man in her life. She wouldn't have the time or energy to deal with a man even if she had one. Especially a man who stretched the truth!

Which reminded Ginger of the main reason for her unease. Her boys were staying with Larry for the weekend, which was nothing unusual. But her ex-husband's attention span was growing increasingly short, and Ginger wasn't sure she could trust him to keep an eye on the twins, or, more specifically, Jason. She knew Joshua could take care of himself and most of the West Coast. But Jason needed eagle-eyed adult supervision, something that had recently proven too much for Larry.

In the last few months, Jason had been picked up for curfew violation, destruction of public property, and underage drinkingall while in Larry's care. In each instance, Larry admitted he'd been preoccupied with a girl, which wasn't a sexist comment because he clearly preferred the company of females under twenty-one years of age. Maybe he always had.

Ginger dropped her head to her hand, her brain heavy with the truthif Larry continued to devolve like this, she'd have to go back to court to demand full custody. And that would require money, grief, and time she couldn't spare.

Are you all right? Bea tapped Ginger's other hand where it gripped the stem of her wine glass. Ginger jolted to attention.

Just tired, I guess.

It's been a whirlwind weekend, Roxanne said.

So much happiness, Mrs. Needleman said, a devilish smile on her lips. Now, which of you ladies do you suppose will be the next to marry?

Everyone's jaw dropped. The silence fell on them with a thud. The busy restaurant buzzed around them, but no one moved.

Then Bea snorted with laughter.

Ginger and Roxie stole a quick glance at each other. Would this be the moment Bea chose to come out of the closet? Would she finally admit that the reason she never dated was that she didn't find men attractive? Would everyone finally get the answer to the question no one had ever dared ask?

I noticed that Josie didn't throw her bouquet, Mrs. Needleman added helpfully.

She knew it would've hit the dirt, Roxie said.

Bea smiled big. Well, I think it's obvious, she said. Ginger's our next vision in white!

What? Once Ginger's eyeballs stopped throbbing, she gaped at her laughing friends. That's totally ridiculous and you know it.

Well, it sure as hell isn't going to be me, Roxie said, taking a sip of her pinot noir. I haven't had anything close to a date in months, and, besides, a wedding wouldn't exactly be good for business, now would it?

Bea chuckled. You'd have to change the name of your site to ‘i-vomit-on-almost-every-man.'

Roxanne thought that was funny.

Mrs. Needleman shook her head. Terrible. Just terrible, she muttered. Such a thing would have been unspeakable in my day.

Roxanne took umbrage at that. Really? Women didn't have man problems when you were young, I take it?

Mrs. Needleman's shoulders moved up and down while she chuckled. Of course we did! The old woman's chuckle faded into a sigh. Modern-day woman didn't discover the broken heart, my dears. As long as there have been men and women there's been drama, betrayal, ecstasy, hope, despair, and even, on occasion, love. But it's never been a cakewalk for any of us.

So what's so terrible about my Web site, then? Roxanne asked.

Mrs. Needleman didn't bother to hide her sadness, and her old eyes grew watery. The sheer amount of venom oozing out of everyone these daysit's destructive to the spirit of the world. She pointed an arthritic finger at Roxanne. You may think your business is tongue-in-cheek and harmless, but it's feeding the dragon, you see. If the world is to survive, we need women who are open to love, not hardened by bitter resentment.

Roxie laughed uncomfortably. Hey, well, bitter resentment happens to be a growth industry. My retail sales are up four hundred percent since June!

Bea snorted again.

Mrs. Needleman pushed her chair away from the dining table, piqued. Only love attracts love. Distrust only creates more distrust. It's a universal truth. She lowered her eyes and in a whisper added, I fear I'm running out of time.

Ginger was struck by the weight of Gloria's softly spoken words. It was almost as if the old lady thought the fate of humanity rested on her frail shoulders. Ginger reached across the table and touched the sleeve of Gloria's blouse.

We'll get you back to the ranch for the night. You must be very tired.

Oh, fiddle. Gloria waved her away. I'm just a lonely old bat who talks too much when she gets a captive audience. She stood up from her chair and grabbed her handbag. All right. It's settled, then.

What is? Bea asked.

Ginger will be our next bride. Mrs. Needleman announced this with a matter-of-fact nod of her tightly permed head. Now get me back to my room before I say something foolish.

The moon hung heavy and low in the sky. It peeked from behind the live oaks, spreading a pale blue glimmer over the gardens, the vineyards, and the bare skin of Ginger's legs. She pulled her wrap closer, shut her eyes, and melted into the Adirondack chair.

Tomorrow, she'd return to her real life. She'd pick up HeatherLynn from the kennel. Stop by the cleaner's. Get dinner ready for the boys. On Monday morning she'd go into a job that might not last the week, at a newspaper on its last legs. She'd call her lawyer about her custody concerns. She'd send out her resume. She'd talk to the school counselor about Jason's grades and arrange for Joshua's learner's permit test.

But until thenjust for the precious few moments that were left of this nightGinger would let herself enjoy the soft, perfumed air and the warmth of the zinfandel coursing through her veins. Yes, she'd made some really big mistakes in her life. But every step she'd ever taken, every decision she'd ever made, had led to her being here, at this moment, in this place. That meant everything was right with the world, just the way it was. Just for this moment.

She laughed quietly to herself. So this is the hard-won view from forty, she thought. This was the halfway mark of a woman's life, a life half lived and half yet to come. Exactly who was she at that moment? Where was the girl she'd once been? How long would it be before she found the best version of herself?

Ginger raised her wine glass and toasted the moon. She believed there was still time to become a confident woman. She could call a truce with her changing beauty, her lost dreams, her rearranged possibilities. There was still time to be happy. She took a long, deep sip of wine and wrestled with the idea of calling for another Botox appointment. She'd have to keep it a secret if she didBea, Roxie, and Josie would only tease her again when she didn't go through with it.

Maybe this time she'd find the strength to resist the temptation altogether. Maybe this time she'd truly believe that Larry running off with a college girl wasn't an indictment of her beautyit was an indictment of him.

She took another sip of the red wine and sighed. Just for tonight, she decided, she'd open her arms to the unlimited possibilities of her life right now, as it was. Where was the harm in that? It was permissible to let her imagination run free every once in a while, wasn't it? It was all right to let it out to play.

Even if it wanted to play with Lucio Montevez.

Ginger stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes in the moonlight. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, feeling her fingers skitter across her thigh. It was still smooth and firm flesh, aching for a loving touch. Lucio had reminded her of that today. Melting under his caress, drowning in his kissit had flipped a switch inside her. She couldn't deny it another second. Her body was on fire for a man's attention. That man's attention.

It had been a long time since Larry had touched her with love. She couldn't even remember what it felt like. The last few years of her marriage had been confusing, hurtful, and lonely. Near the end, there wasn't a shred of devotion left in Larry's touchjust a cold, slimy guilt that he tried to cover up with words he knew Ginger longed to hear.

She held on to those words and pretended all was well for as long as possible. But she knew better, and it was a struggle to keep the truth pushed down inside her. She'd convinced herself that infidelity was something that happened to other couples, not themnot Larry and Ginger Garrison, college sweethearts, good and decent people who worked hard to build a life together and raise their sons.

She'd held on to the ruse right up until the night she caught Larry with the boys' math tutor in the cargo area of the minivan. In her own driveway, for God's sake! Larry's bare ass was a ghostly white in the glow of the streetlights as it moved up and down. Up and down.

Right there and then, as Ginger watched her husband of eighteen years porking a college coed, her delusions were history. So was her marriage.

Ginger took in a shaky breath, counting backward, adding up all the months of disconnection and, then, separation. Could it be that she'd gone without a man's loving touch for years? She laughed bitterly. She'd been deprived. She'd become empty. And now she was starving.

Her fingers pushed up the hem of her skirt. With her eyes closed, she reveled in the feel of the night air on the exposed skin of her inner thigh. How would it feel? What would the sensation be like if, just now, Lucio Montevez were to come to her, kneel in the grass at her feet like the sexual panther he was, stretch her thighs wide and hook them over the armrests of this old Adirondack chair and touch her, wet and silky and so very, very needy.

Ginger sought out the satiny crotch of her panties and pushed it aside. Her fingers were immediately drenched in juices. Her own wetness startled her. Her legs trembled. She took one last fortifying sip of wine, and, with eyes still closed, she set the goblet on the grass. Her mind reeled. Her body was greedy.

It was well past midnight. The ranch was silent. Only Mrs. Needleman and the women in the bridal party had stayed overnight. She was hidden under the shadows of the old live oak. No one would see.

So Ginger did it. She reached under her bottom and yanked off her panties, tossing them to the ground. She took a deep breath and imagined him right there, on his knees before her. He would spread his big hands over the tender flesh inside her thighs and pull her open. He would lower his mouth to her.

Lucio! she called out in a ragged whisper.

Ginger squirmed. God, the man knew his way around a woman! He was teasing her, nipping and licking and biting everywhere but where she needed it most. He was really, really good at this. So good it was pure torture.

Ginger heard herself groan in frustration. She imagined his dark head hovering between her thighs. She imagined the heat of his breath so close, but not close enough.

Finally! He flicked his tongue around and across her enflamed clitoris. Then he drank from her. He used his tongue and teeth and lips to pull the juices from her body, pull her soul to the brink of orgasm. Oh! He was using those strong hands to adjust her, like she was a plaything, a dollgrabbing her by the ass and pulling her toward his mouth like he was a starving man at that sexual buffet Bea had described.

Ginger's head swam with the imagesher body was the overflowing smorgasbord of lust and Lucio had already paid at the door. She wanted to feed him. He was a hungry man. Everyone wins!

Oh God, it felt so good, so real. Her hands fell away from her body, yet, somehow, the sensations continued to build. She imagined in detail how it would feelshe would reach for his long, thick hair, grabbing silky fistfuls as she pulled him tighter to her pussy.

That's right. Pussy. She never used that word. It was sordid, somehow. Daring. But wasn't that the whole point of a daringly sordid fantasy? So she let the word pulse through her. She was nothing but a lonely, dripping, needy pussy. And it was only for him. She was his pussy. Somewhere deep inside her she knew that she'd always belonged to him and only him, the sexual panther of the shadows.

This is your pussy, Lucio, she whispered. It belongs to you.

Suddenly, she threw her legs around his neck and convulsed wildly, the orgasm so deep and strong that it shot her into a swirling, black nothingness, then launched her back to consciousness with a flare of bright white light. Her body twitched and burned in exquisite pleasure. Her eyes flew open, and her vision was filled with the night sky and what was either the aurora borealis or one hell of a long, drawn-out orgasm.

Inexplicably, she felt as if she were rising from the chair, her limp body being taken up to heaven in the arms of God himself. She must have orgasmed so hard that she'd had a stroke, which would explain the aurora borealis.

God, no! I can't die! Who will take care of the boys?

It was a particular taste that brought her to her senses. The taste of herself. Soft, wet lips covered hers, sharing the tangy, salty taste of her own body. The mouth was covered in her juices and it pressed harder and harder against hers.

My God, you are delicious, the lips said, an accent falling thick and hot in her ear, on her face. She was being carried up the lawn toward the guesthouse'but how?

I will need more, pelirroja, said the unmistakable voice. I will be taking more of the redheaded pussy you say is mine.

Ginger stiffened, a lightning bolt of awareness hitting her smack between the eyes. Ohmigod, put me down! She tried to pry herself from Lucio's arms, but his muscles only contracted further. She was trapped against his chest as he climbed the walkway to the guesthouse. I said put me down! Now! Are you deaf?

Lucio ignored her. He plowed ahead, now almost at the guesthouse door. Ginger's pulse hammered wildly. She could hardly breathe. How in God's name had she ended up being carried to her door twice in one day by the same man? Had she fainted again? No, waithe'd really had his mouth on her! It had all been real! This was awfultoo awful to face.

Put me down. This time her warning was delivered in a menacing whisper. Put me down right this fucking second or I'll scream so loud you really will be deaf when I'm done.

Lucio's response was to reach around her face and cover her mouth with his big hand until they reached the guesthouse porch. Once there, he eased her down to her feet but kept her mouth tightly covered. He turned the doorknob with his free hand.

He pressed Ginger's back against the front of his body. Ginger wasn't stupid. Something big and hard was poking into the base of her spine, and she knew exactly what it was. She tried to squirm away.

Lucio whispered into her ear, his breath still infused with the scent of her body. I will wait until I hear your door close and the lock slide into place. Then I will leave. He let his hand drop from her mouth and turned her toward him.

He flashed a smile. Good night, my wild woman of the vineyards.

Ginger's spine stiffened. He smelled of herher pussy! She'd told him'out loudthat it belonged to him! Her head pounded with confusion. Her limbs tingled with the remnants of the pleasure. What the hell had just happened? Had she fantasized so intensely that she'd conjured Lucio from the night shadows? Or had he been waiting for her, watching heragain? Either way, it had ended with her feeding her most intimate body part to a man she barely knew! And now he was seeing her to her room, as if the whole thing had been a non-event. Maybe in the world of Lucio Montevez it was, but not in her world.

Do not look so perplexed, guapa. Lucio brushed the underside of her chin with his fingertip. Back there, you called out to me. I answered. But it is late and you are not in your right mind at the moment, so we must stop.

Ginger's mouth hung open. Whaa?

I do not wish to take advantage of you.

Huh?

Lucio's smile widened, and his teeth were blinding white in the porch light. Loneliness and wine can make us do crazy things. So I will say good night. He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles. He kissed the fragile bones and tendons of her hand. Then he turned her wrist over and kissed the skin stretched over her wild pulse. It was all intensely sensual. Mind-numbingly sexual. Ginger tried to think clearly but failed. She was swooning! Swooning! Up until now she hadn't even understood what that word meant!

What is happening? She raised her gaze to his, whispering her question. Lucio's eyes met hers, endlessly deep and dark and probing. He really did possess the eyes of a sexual panther, but at some point he'd also acquired the manners of an Eagle Scout. Honestly, she'd never been more disappointed in her life.

But you said you wanted more of me, Ginger said, the words so heavy with frustration it embarrassed her.

Lucio chuckled softly. I must take a rain check. He pulled a pair of panties from his pocket and shoved them in her hand, adding, You shouldn't leave these lying around just anywhere.

Then he turned her by the shoulders, gave her bottom a gentle pat, and sent her through the guesthouse door.