Write to Me Page 6

  “Desi, don’t be ridiculous.” A flash of unease made her hesitate. “Uh, hold on.” She took the letter from her daughter’s hand and quickly scanned it before handing it back. “No, that one’s fine. Go ahead.”

  “Mom!” Desiree’s plaintive, horrified cry made her sound just like the twelve-year-old she once was.

  Gloria snickered, then went back to reading her own letter. For the first few years after Emilio died, she’d returned to these letters again and again to remind herself of their love. Remind herself that he would always be with her. But as time went on, she’d come to them less and less often.

  Maybe that was the problem. She’d told Desiree that Emilio was her once-in-a-lifetime love, but truth be told, his memory had dimmed over time. Perhaps that was inevitable. After all, she’d had to work, care for her daughter, move on with her life.

  There had been other men. She’d been completely faithful to Emilio, body and soul, when he was alive. But once he was gone, he had no use for her body. He was an earthy, physical man who understood that women had the same needs as men. Gloria knew he wouldn’t begrudge her seeking companionship and warmth. Sensual pleasure. And she was always careful in her choice of partners. Her liaisons were physically satisfying, based on friendship and respect. Never on love. She remained faithful to Emilio in her heart.

  But Bryan had slipped by her guard. She’d told herself she was only trying to help him, but she was kidding herself. The more time she spent with him, the deeper her attraction grew. Their kiss three days ago only proved it. Even now, as she remembered his honey-flavored kisses, heat spiraled through her and her lips tingled.

  She’d made the right decision not to see him again. She didn’t want to be the spoiler, even if Bryan and Courtney were officially no longer a couple. As long as his feelings were engaged elsewhere, Gloria would be the “other woman.”

  Don’t lie to yourself. You’re not just being noble. You’re scared.

  Deep down her feelings for Bryan were more than simple physical attraction. Which made no sense, as they’d only spent a few hours together over the span of two days. Being with him was exhilarating and a little frightening. No point in hiding from the truth. She wanted to sleep with him. Desperately. But if they went to bed together, she wasn’t sure she’d escape with her heart intact.

  And how would Emilio feel about that?

  “Oohhh.” Desi’s coo of admiration drew her attention. “Mami, he wrote you a poem.”

  Gloria placed her letter back in the shoebox, unable to read further with Bryan on her mind. She’d have to work harder to shake him loose.

  “Yes, we loved poetry, your father and I. We used to lie in bed together and read it to each other.” Those were some of her most special memories of her husband. Lopez was one of their favorite poets, which was why Gloria had ordered his early collection from Mr. Miłosc. How sad that she couldn’t share it with Emilio.

  Desi sighed, holding her father’s letter to her chest. “So romantic.”

  “So which poem did you find?”

  “The one about your hair. All the ways he describes it. It’s strange, though. I don’t remember him being so poetic. It doesn’t sound like him.”

  True enough. He’d been a passionate man, but not a particularly expressive one. He believed in deeds more than words. Gloria tried to make sense of it herself. “Well, they’re different things, speaking and writing. Some people can express themselves on paper in a way they never could face to face.” She thought immediately of Bryan’s letter.

  “I guess, but it’s almost like someone else wrote it.” Desi read on silently for a bit, then looked at her mother with some surprise. “Wow. This is good.”

  “Yes, it is.” Pride warred with guilt in Gloria’s breast. She’d had a man who loved her so much he’d written her poetry, beautiful poetry. She’d almost let herself forget that after spending a few mere hours with Bryan.

  “No, I mean it’s really good. Like, good enough to be published. Not that I’m an expert…”

  “He wrote others that were just as beautiful,” Gloria said. “I even told him once he should send them somewhere, try to see if he could publish them.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Oh, he was too embarrassed. Said they were only for me. He was a manly man, your father. I guess he was afraid his bros would think less of him if they knew about the poetry.”

  “That’s too bad.” Desi shifted on the bed, giving her mother a serious look. “So, uh, are you still seeing Professor Dunn?”

  “Mr. Dunn and I are done.” Gloria smiled weakly at the lame pun.

  Desi’s protective instincts immediately kicked in. She snapped to attention, her eyes sparking with anger. “What happened? What did he do?”

  “He didn’t do anything.” Gloria didn’t want her daughter getting the wrong idea about Bryan. Nothing that happened was his fault. “The friendship ran its course.”

  “Really?” Desi watched her carefully. “Well, I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I’ve got to say I’m relieved. The guy’s a player.”

  “Yes, so you’ve said. My not seeing him anymore has nothing to do with that.”

  “I’ll just bet.” Desi’s full lips narrowed to a thin line. “Want me to go kick his ass?”

  Gloria gave her the side eye. “That’d be quite the feat in those heels.”

  “What?” Desi rolled her ankle and looked down to admire her strappy pumps. “Just ’cause I love cute shoes doesn’t mean I can’t throw down in defense of my mom.”

  “There will be no throwing down,” Gloria told her. “No ass kicking. End of discussion.”

  Desi reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Are you all right, Mami? You look sad.”

  She sighed. “No, not sad, really. Just…”

  “What did he do?”

  “Desiree, stop it. He did nothing.”

  “Have you…are you in love with this guy?” Her daughter looked very young, like the little girl she used to be, when she asked that question.

  “No.” I could be if I let myself. She kept that thought to herself, knowing instinctively it wasn’t something Desi would want to hear. “It wouldn’t matter if I was, because he’s in love with someone else.”

  Desi’s mouth flattened. “That’s BS. Guys like him don’t fall in love. That’s probably something he just made up to get you to feel sorry for him.”

  “Stop it. When did you become so cynical?”

  “Since I found out my mother was dating a man whore.”

  Gloria recoiled. “We weren’t dating. And please don’t use that disgusting term.”

  Desi rolled her eyes. “Man whore? If the shoe fits…” She subsided at Gloria’s pointed look. “Okay, okay. So who is this chick he’s supposedly so in love with?”

  Gloria hesitated, then thought what’s the harm? “Her name’s Courtney.”

  “Courtney.” Desi repeated the name as though making a mental note. “I’ll ask Ash if she knows anything.”

  “Don’t. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s his private business. Just leave it alone.”

  “All right,” Desi said quickly. Too quickly.

  Gloria knew her daughter only too well, and the innocent look on Desi’s face didn’t fool her one bit. “I’m serious.”

  Desi lifted her hands, showing her palms in a sign of surrender. “Whatever you say.”

  Gloria replaced the lid on the shoebox and sighed. “Come on. Let’s go get that coffee.”

  ****

  The following Thursday, Gloria had finished sweeping the salon floor and was about to turn off the lights when someone tapped at the front door.

  Bryan. Her heart quickened in excitement even as a shadow of dread settled over her. He shouldn’t be here.

  “Gloria.” He spoke from the other side of the glass. “Let me in. We need to talk.”

  She shook her head. “Please go home.” She wanted to do the right thing. Why was he making it so hard for her to be
strong?

  He didn’t budge. “Please. I have something for you.” He held up a square white box that looked like it came from a bakery. He’d brought her cookies? She was about to refuse again when he added, “I made it for you.”

  She wavered, touched that he’d gone to the trouble of making something for her. Curiosity got the best of her, and she unlocked the door.

  “It’s really not a good idea, you being here,” she said even as she stepped back to let him enter.

  He swept past her to set the box on the front counter. “I couldn’t let things end like that.” He turned and looked at her. The fire in his eyes brought out a mist of perspiration on the back of her neck.

  She spoke quickly to distract herself from the heat rising inside her. She nodded at the bakery box. “What’s in there?”

  He opened it. On a plate stood a quivering white custard swimming in a caramelized sauce.

  Gloria gaped in surprise. “You made me a flan?”

  “You said it was your favorite dessert. That your abuelita used to make it for you and your daughter.”

  And he remembered. That moved her as much as the fact he’d made it for her. The thickness in her throat made it impossible to speak.

  He misunderstood her silence. “Doesn’t it look right? I’m not much of a cook, but I found a recipe online.”

  “No. No, it looks delicious.” She swallowed hard. “But I don’t understand.”

  “Gloria, spending time with you…” He shook his head. “It’s made me realize that I’ve been living in the past. I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to live in the now. I want to get to know you better and see where that takes us.”

  Yes, yes! But… “What about Courtney?”

  “Courtney doesn’t want me. She’s made her decision.”

  “But if you still love her—”

  “It’s not love. It hasn’t been for a while. I guess I just didn’t want to face it.” His intense gaze seared her. “It wasn’t ’til I met you that—”

  Gloria held up her hand. “Stop.” She felt too trembly and lightheaded to hear any serious declarations. This thing between her and Bryan was still too new, too fragile to put a name to. She just wanted to enjoy the moment and the possibilities ahead.

  She nodded at the dish he’d brought. “It looks so good. I can’t wait to taste it.”

  “Take it home. It’s yours.”

  “I’d rather share it with you.” She let her gaze tell him what else she’d like to share. “I have no plates to serve it on. But I think there’s—hold on.”

  Behind the reception desk was a counter that held a coffee pot. Also on the counter, next to a container of creamer and a box of sugar packets, were some plastic spoons. She took one and came back around.

  Using the plastic spoon, she scooped up a mound of custard and syrup, lifted it toward Bryan’s mouth.

  “No.” He took the spoon from her. “You first.”

  She opened her lips for his offering. The flavors of vanilla and caramel swirled and melted in her mouth. She closed her eyes and moaned.

  “Good?” His voice was a low rumble.

  “Mmm…” Her eyes fluttered open when his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, swiping away a drop of sugar syrup. As he brought it to his mouth, she clutched his wrist. “No.” Their gazes locked. “Mine.”

  Bryan went still as Gloria licked the sweet glaze from the pad of his thumb. He winced as she touched a sore spot.

  “Oh!” She examined the red mark where his thumb met the palm of his hand. “What happened?”

  The corner of his mouth hitched up. “Burned myself taking the pan out of the water bath. Stupid of me.”

  “Poor thing.” She kissed the burn mark. “I hope you don’t get a blister.”

  “It’s fine. I ran it under cold water, like you’re supposed to…” His words trailed off as though he’d forgotten what he was saying.

  Gloria couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as he closed in for a kiss. When he kissed her, all thoughts flew from her mind. Only their lips touched at first, their breaths mingling. It wasn’t enough. He drew her close, gently, as though afraid to break their fragile connection. As soon as her breasts nestled against his hard chest, he grew bolder, teasing her lips with his tongue. She gladly opened to him, offering the tastes of vanilla and caramel.

  But Gloria didn’t stand passively and receive his kiss. She wanted him and would damn well let him know. Gripping his shoulders as their tongues caressed and played, she was an equal partner in their embrace, giving as good as she got.

  When the kiss ended, she spooned up another bite of custard and fed it to Bryan. “Your turn.”

  He smiled as he swallowed the mouthful. “Delicious, if I say so myself.”

  “It would be better with coffee.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. They both ignored the coffeemaker on the counter as their gazes locked. “There’s coffee at my place.”

  That was all she wanted to hear. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Seven

  Gloria and Bryan walked the few blocks to his place. How lovely to stroll down the sidewalk hand in hand. She’d had lovers over the years, but she couldn’t recall indulging in this simple pleasure with any of them. How long since she’d held a man’s hand, publicly acknowledging their relationship? Not since Emilio died.

  He unlocked his door and pulled her in. “I lied before,” he told her just inside the doorway as she was about to close in for a kiss.

  Her feet dragged to a stop. “Lied…”

  “I don’t have coffee. Well, I do, but it’s instant.” He faked a clownish sad-puppy look of remorse.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I hate instant coffee.” She waited just long enough to torture him. “It doesn’t matter. I forgot to bring the flan.”

  He let out a puff of laughter. “Baby.” He grabbed her and swept her close. When their bodies collided, she felt enveloped in a sheet of flame.

  Their kisses were passionate and fierce as they stumbled into his living room. In one last burst of sanity, Gloria broke free. “Bryan. Are you sure? Are you really sure?” She had to know that she wasn’t a temporary stand-in for another woman.

  His forehead creased, then understanding lit his eyes. He strode to a small desk in a corner of the room and retrieved a piece of paper, holding it open to show her. The letter he’d written to Courtney, the one she’d found in the book of sonnets.

  “This is the past.” He crumpled the note and let it fall into the wastebasket. “It’s over. I want to move on.”

  She gazed at the wastebasket, then looked back up at him.

  He extended his hand. “I want to move on with you.”

  She took a step, then another. Warmth surged through her as she grasped his large hand and his fingers curled around hers.

  ****

  With my body I thee worship.

  Odd that this phrase, part of a religious wedding vow, would occur to Bryan now. His desire for Gloria had nothing to do with theology, everything to do with lust. One of the seven deadly sins.

  Yet it felt reverent, too. He wanted to worship her body, take his time, and show her the appreciation and respect she deserved. As he led her into the bedroom, a beatific smile curved her lips, the smile of a sensuous, confident woman. A warm glow lit her eyes, signaling her complete trust. Her expression held no hesitation, no doubt.

  He was the one who hesitated. He faltered in the bedroom doorway, suddenly struck by all the lies he’d told. He’d meant to come clean somehow, some way. Now was the perfect opportunity. But if he fessed up, he’d lose her. Lose this chance to be with her. So he made the bargain all liars make.

  God, let me get by this once, and I swear I’ll never do it again.

  He prayed for Gloria never to find out the lie that brought them together. From here on, it would be the truth and nothing but.

  But what kind of relationship could be built on a foundation of lies?

  Gloria must have felt his hesitation and
took the lead. “Come.” She led him through the doorway, her hand in his.

  Inside the bedroom, he caressed, kissed, fondled her as her fumbled with her buttons. She’d unfastened half the buttons of his shirt when he stopped her hand. “Wait.”

  Bryan gently urged her onto the bed. Her sweater hung open down the front, revealing her lacy black bra and generous breasts. Her chest, throat, and face were flushed with desire. Her lips were full and red, her eyes hazy.

  He was hard as rock, his cock aching to feel her heat. Blood pounded in his ears, nearly deafening him. But it was more than lust he felt. Gratitude welled in his chest and filled his throat. He was the luckiest bastard on the planet to have this woman in his room. In his life.

  And the least deserving.

  He shoved that guilty thought aside. No time for self-reproach. He needed to make love to Gloria.

  He never thought of sex as making love before. In fact, he’d scoffed at the term, found it ridiculous and sappy. But now, as he sank to his knees before Gloria, no other expression fit.

  He lifted her left leg and slipped off her sandal. Her toes, sparkling with crimson polish, curled when he placed his lips to the arch of her foot. She giggled but didn’t pull away. Ah, she liked that. What else did she like?

  Slowly, he kissed his way up her bare leg. He reached the back of her knee, and she sighed. He lingered there, then trailed his lips to the inner joint of her thigh. He flicked his tongue against the edge of her panties, making her gasp. The lacy black panties matched her bra.

  What a temptation to tear them off her. But another urge was stronger. The urge to make them both wait. Savor the experience. Make it last.

  He stood and leaned over her. Gloria gazed up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. His heart thudded, and his cock butted against his fly, demanding release. Down, guy. Slow your roll.

  Bryan lowered himself to the bed and lifted Gloria’s hand, kissing each of her knuckles. He took his time discovering all her most sensitive places. The crook of her elbow, the hollow of her throat.

  When he placed his lips to the center of her cleavage, he caught a whiff of her perfume, the scent activated by her body heat. His thoughts rushed to the day they first met and the Shakespeare sonnet. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Gloria personified the beauty of summer. She was as lush as a field of wildflowers, as vibrant as a cloudless sky, as warm as a sunny day, as fragrant as lavender.