Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(7)

“Of course you do,” Calli said. “You would’ve had it figured out twenty-four hours after landing here.”

“One hour,” Minnie said. “I met a woman lawyer in the customs and immigration lounge at the airport. I asked her where she got her suit and, voila, insider information on the best shopping spots on la colina.”

“‘In’, you mean,” Calli suggested.

“On,” Minnie said firmly. “Colina is ‘hill’. The city is Lozano Colinas, and the locals shorten it to ‘the hill’, coz good ol’ Lozano lost claim to his hill when he kicked the bucket.”

“It sounds so much prettier in Spanish. You’d better add a Spanish-English dictionary to the shopping list.” Calli hid her sigh. Minnie was vibrating with excitement at the prospect of taking Calli shopping and showing her around. She wouldn’t spoil Minnie’s fun.

*

Calli danced, whirled, dipped. Her silk skirt brushed her legs with cool, light caresses. She was free, her heart light, bursting with elation and tingling with joy. She lifted her hands up to the stars, the music encouraging her to swing and turn.

Hands settled on her hips and a warm weight pressed up behind her. The weight was blood warm. Hot. She laughed, the contact fizzing through her blood. She let him feel the sway of her hips. He pressed himself against her and a silvery thrill ran through her. He wanted her.

They swayed together, their feet moving in gentle spirals as they turned. His hand rested low on her abdomen. His fingers spread out and pushed against her, turning her to face him. She looked upon a broad chest covered in a white shirt. It was a common business shirt, not the full white cotton shirt she had expected.

When she tried to see his face her view was blocked by the brim of a black hat, bent low. She ducked her head to glance beneath the brim. He lifted his head and their gazes met.

It was him. His dark red hair, thick and shining in the evening glow. He studied her with the same speculative, heated gaze she remembered. She willed him to kiss her, her hand moving in restless little strokes against his hard chest and shoulder, the silk warm under her fingers. Her need for his mouth to touch hers built like a scream inside her.

He shook his head, a tiny movement from side to side. It was the same little movement as the first time he had refused her.

Her disappointment was so acute it stabbed at her chest like a knife. She gave a cry—her throat hurt with the strength of it, yet no sound emerged. He let her fall back again. She held out her hands, unwilling to lose contact with the heat and hardness of him. She was falling too hard and too fast...

*

Calli awoke with a whole-body jerk and a soundless cry that strained her throat. She realized she had been dreaming and fell back on her pillow with a shuddering sob of relief.

It had been so intense!

She rolled over on her side, hugging her still-throbbing body, trying to claw back fragments of the dream.

He sat in Josh’s leather office chair, one hand on his knee, the other elbow propped against the arm of the chair, his long forefinger resting against his temple.

Calli drew in a sharp, startled breath, her already taxed heart leaping. Fright tore through her. Ice in her veins. At the same time, her aroused, prepared body moved to high alert.

He watched her, the same measuring stare from her dream.

Calli sat up, bringing the damp sheet with her. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“You are a restless sleeper, Miss Munro,” he said, just as quietly.

“Are you crazy? You must leave. Right now.”

“I’m not crazy.” He got to his feet. “If I were, I would not have understood what you did not say to me in the holding cell, this evening.” He walked toward the bed.

Calli shrank back against the headboard, pulling the sheet with her.

He did not touch the mattress. Instead, he lowered himself until he could meet her gaze. The blue of his eyes seemed to glow in the light coming from the wide windows. Full moon, she remembered. Fiesta de la Luna.

“I know you.” His low voice rumbled in her mind, her heart.

Yes, yes, you do. You see my soul. You see I want you. My heart locks when you’re near. I can think of nothing but how much I want you to touch me.

“You have to go,” she said aloud.

“Do you want me to go?”

She couldn’t lie when the truth pushed at her insistently. She said nothing. Instead she scrambled from the bed and headed for the door, intending to shepherd him from the apartment. She was three steps from the bed when she heard a noise behind her and whirled.

He straightened up, staring at her. “My God, look at you,” he breathed. “You are...magnificent.”

She glanced at herself, at the fragile chiffon of the baby-doll pajamas and the tiny matching panties with their satin bows. Her cheeks grew warm in reaction.

“Your legs. Such endless legs.” He moved toward her. “Athlete’s muscles. Callida, you are more beautiful than I suspected. Your hair is glowing in the moonlight.” He halted just in front of her, so close his body heat fanned her skin. He brushed a thick lock of her hair back over her shoulder. His hand whispered across her skin, a fleeting touch that sent a shudder through her.

She couldn’t move. She could not resist the primal urges strumming through her and send him away—not when she wanted him to wreak havoc upon her, to turn her inside-out with delight. Take me. Now! she wanted to beg, only she didn’t speak the words for he controlled the moment.