Santerra's Sin: A Loveswept Classic Romance Page 8

  “If I can take Tiny, I can take you.”

  Take me. Diego wanted to groan. “I thought Tiny had his own bike.”

  “He does. But I’m not the only one who’s had a flat out there.”

  “Well, now you won’t have to call if you have a flat.”

  Her smile spilled into a deep chuckle. He felt his entire body respond to that musical sound. Low, and a bit rough.

  He wanted to make it rougher.

  She slid her glasses back on and crossed her arms over her chest. “Chicken.”

  Really not smart, Santerra. The corners of his mouth twitched. “You got an extra helmet?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” She turned and went back into the cantina. His gaze zeroed in on the perfect fit of her jeans until the door closed behind her, telling himself it was too-long-denied hormones making him desert crazy.

  But her incredible body wasn’t the source of his fascination and he knew it. It was the inside of the package that had him making stupid decisions. John would take his head off when he saw them on one bike heading hell-bent across the desert. And rightly so. If he didn’t pass out from shock.

  Diego Santerra didn’t make bad decisions. And certainly not ones influenced by personal wants.

  Personal wants. When was the last time that he’d had one of those? Since he’d had a need that competed in any way with the job at hand?

  The answer was simple. Never. Not once.

  He watched the door swing back open and Blue emerge with two bike helmets, one red, one black. He didn’t have to ask which one was his. The symbolism didn’t escape him.

  He knew he should back out, take the truck. There were a dozen ways to do it. Instead he took the black helmet she offered him.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  He walked around to the driver’s side of the Jeep, watched her slide onto her seat and buckle in before turning her smile on him once again. It was full of anticipation and pleasure. Because of him. She was happy just to be with him.

  He looked at her and felt the same anticipation, the same pleasure. He knew then why he’d never allowed himself needs, wants.

  Because once begun, there would be no end to them.

  Not with Blue Delgado.

  SIX

  They decided to leave the Jeep at Tiny’s. Blue cut into the desert at the same spot they’d left it the day before. Diego knew it wasn’t the wisest move since Jacounda’s men had tracked them from there, but the risk was minimal. The second team wouldn’t repeat the first team’s plan. And Hermes couldn’t get them in place this fast. Besides, John would be out there today to help keep an eye on things.

  What would John think if he knew he was also playing chaperon to his partner? And since when did Diego care what other people thought?

  Since you started needing a chaperon.

  He leaned on the upright hard gun case strapped to the bike, his hands locked behind his hips on the metal gun frame. His hand was closer to his knife this way.

  It was also not wrapped around Blue’s waist.

  He scanned the open area, turning his head slightly to look back as best he could without drawing undue attention to his actions. He knew Blue could see him from her sideview mirrors. He felt it each and every time she glanced back at him. Where he did not look was down.

  The space between his spread thighs and her firm backside was marginal at best. And he did his damnedest to keep it that way. Just as his body did its damnedest to reach out to her anyway.

  Being this close and not touching was somehow even more erotically charged. Denial created the most potent temptation.

  He focused on the discomfort of not being able to shift in his seat. Used it as proof of his foolishness, as a means to get his head back where it should be.

  It wasn’t working.

  Blue lifted her hand and pointed to a tumble of rock about a mile ahead. One large mesa rose from the middle, blazing red in the early-morning sun. Red Rock Mesa.

  She slowed the bike, turning her head slightly, shouting to be heard over the whine of the engine.

  “Pull your knees in. There is a path to the top, but we have to squeeze through some tight spots to get to it.”

  She leaned in around a tumble of rocks then headed straight for what looked like a solid stone wall. Only when they were about ten yards away did Diego see the angled alley. He pulled his knees in, pressing them against her thighs.

  Just as they approached she slowed even more, her shout traveling more clearly this time.

  “Lean into me. I need to keep our weight more centered through here.”

  Diego really wanted to be in his Jeep.

  He curved his shoulders in, the breadth of them just framing hers. The curve of his face shield forced him to tuck his head on one side of hers. In order to keep his balance, he had to close the distance between them.

  And let go of the metal frame.

  His chest brushed her back as he carefully placed one hand, then the other, on her hips. He felt her tense against his body.

  A hot flush stole over him. He wasn’t the only one going on sensory overload. He scoped out the tumble of rocks and boulders as Blue skillfully—and excruciatingly slowly—wove her way through them. They were going just fast enough to keep her from having to put her foot on the ground for balance.

  The rise of the buttes blocked out a good part of the sun, creating shadows around the towering boulders. A sniper’s paradise.

  Diego was so alert, his nerves were almost screaming. And being wrapped around Blue only heightened his senses.

  “Almost there,” she yelled.

  She turned the bike and they slid through another invisible slit in the rock, then popped out into the bright sun.

  “Hold on!”

  He barely had time to grip her hips and press his thighs tighter when she made an almost hairpin turn, sending them up a winding path. When he looked up, they were climbing Red Rock Mesa. There might be another route to the top that could carry a Jeep, but not this one. This was Blue’s track—one rut, two wheels, in line.

  The bike rumbled and shook, the back tire sliding out a bit on the loose rock. But they moved together, balanced, in sync, as if they’d learned each other’s rhythms long ago.

  By the time Blue rounded the last turn and gunned the engine, shooting them onto the flat open top of the mesa, Diego wasn’t sure he could move away from her. Much less climb off the bike and walk.

  She slowed to a stop, placing her feet on the ground, and balancing the bike between her thighs. Diego had to swallow an involuntary groan as she leaned forward, grinding her backside into his groin.

  She flicked the chin strap open and pulled off her helmet, turning to look at him. “You’ll have to slide off first. I’ll balance the bike. Just watch out for the exhaust pipes.”

  He didn’t say anything. He also didn’t move. Her face was backlit by the morning sun, casting her dark eyes into even deeper shadows, accentuating the almost regal slant of her cheekbones, the strong line of her nose. Behind his tinted visor, his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Voluptuous was the word that sprang to mind. He wanted to kiss that mouth, softly and deeply. He wanted to sink his lips onto hers, slide his tongue against them, taste them, part them. Luxuriate in the contrast of her silken lips and the slightly rougher texture of her tongue. He thought of how she would taste at first … then later when her tongue mingled with his.

  His fingers curled inward, and he realized he was still holding her hips. A little half moan escaped her lips and he immediately released her. The moan became a sound of protest.

  He stilled, his hands only an inch away from touching her.

  She reached up and lifted his visor.

  He looked into her eyes. “Blue.” He wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a warning. “I shouldn’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Kiss you.”

  “Oh.” The word was a sigh. “Why?”

  “Because you’re bus
iness. And all I can see right now is pleasure.”

  “You mean because you’re my cook?”

  Because that’s not all I am. “Yes.”

  “I know you don’t know me that well, but I don’t mix the two, Diego. This isn’t about your job, no matter what happens. Or doesn’t.”

  “Then what is it about?” He didn’t realize how badly he needed an answer to that question until he asked it. “What are we doing here?”

  Her eyes clouded a bit and her voice softened. “I don’t know.”

  He felt her confusion. Nothing was simple anymore. There was so much she didn’t know. Couldn’t know.

  “I’ve never done this,” she added.

  He let his hands rest on his thighs. “Then let’s not start now.”

  He slid off the bike before he couldn’t. His back to her, he pulled off his helmet and scanned the horizon, wondering where John was. Wondering when Jacounda would try again.

  He heard her flick out the kickstand. Straps snapped off and he knew she was unpacking her guns.

  The irony that he’d been protecting a sharpshooter with a knife hadn’t escaped him. She hadn’t come up here in the time he’d been watching her, but he’d known about her target practices. Del’s dossier on his daughter hadn’t included the reason for them, though. Her aborted dreams of being an athlete. He wondered if Seve knew she still yearned, still dreamed, whether it be biathlete or police officer. He wondered if his boss knew his disappearance from Blue’s life had caused her to change her path so greatly.

  “Do you want to shoot? Or watch?”

  He turned to find her twenty yards away, setting up her targets. He recognized the targets as the same ones used by professional shooters. He imagined they were Olympic standard issue.

  “Watch.” He wasn’t sure he could miss convincingly.

  She walked back to the gun cases. Squatting, she turned the hard case on its side and opened it. Inside was the most beautiful .22-caliber rifle Diego had ever seen.

  “Quite a piece you have there.”

  She smiled; her expression held both pride and wistfulness. “It was my father’s. He had it altered to Olympic specs.”

  Diego masked his sudden frustration. “That’s some legacy.”

  She looked up, squinting against the sun. “You mean a father shouldn’t share something like guns with his daughter?”

  “I was sincere. You’re lucky to have something of his that was special to both of you.”

  “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” She looked back at him. “Thank you.”

  She spoke almost reverently about her father. At any other time of his life, he might have questioned how they had bonded so intensely in so short a period of time. Not now.

  He held her gaze for a second. “You’re welcome, Blue.”

  She turned her attention back to the rifle. After checking over the gun, she slipped the leather sling over her head to rest on one shoulder and stood.

  She walked a couple of steps away and turned to face her targets, sliding in a five-bullet clip and chambering the first round. Diego watched her, taking periodic visual sweeps of the desert floor below them. On the one hand, being up there gave him the advantage of seeing the enemy approach. On the other, if they got past him and John and made it as far as the boulders, sound would be the only sense he could rely on.

  “What about you?”

  Her question startled him from his thoughts. She was standing stock-still, rifle balanced perfectly on her shoulder, eyeing down the peep sight. The rifle had no scope and a smaller clip, probably only a few of the modifications Del had made to the gun.

  “What about me what?” he asked.

  The rifle jerked as she shot the first round. The small metal disk on the left end of the row spun around, then settled back on its base.

  Without moving, she examined her target, then chambered another round and prepared to shoot again. She wasted no motion, moving with the grace and ease of someone long familiar with the task at hand. Diego identified closely with that connection.

  “Don’t you have anything special from your parents? Your family?” She concentrated on the next target as she spoke.

  “No.”

  She lowered the rifle without shooting and turned to face him.

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Not sentimental?”

  He shook his head. “No family.”

  “None? Not ever?” She quickly lifted her hand. “I’m sorry, this is none of my business. I should have known from what you said yesterday, in the bar.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. But I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “I know.” And he did. Maybe that was why he’d answered her at all. Not that he’d said that much, but it was more than he’d ever revealed to anyone. Except her father. Del was the only person who knew his whole story.

  The silence stretched out for several seconds, before she turned and lifted the rifle to her shoulder again. He watched as she centered herself and steadied the gun. He stood as stock-still as she did when she pulled the trigger a second time. An instant later the second target spun on its pole.

  “Do you ski?”

  She paused in the middle of reloading to look at him. “Ski?”

  He nodded at the targets. “You’re good at shooting. Very good. I was just wondering if you’d ever done the skiing part.”

  She glanced away with a smile, a bit of heat in her cheeks. Diego felt the breath leave his chest.

  “Not once. Never even had them strapped to my feet.” She laughed. “A biathlete wannabe who’s never skied. Pretty funny, isn’t it?”

  He walked over to her, drawn to her in ways that went way past the physical.

  “You want to know something even funnier?” Her hand rubbed the stock of her gun, giving away her nervousness.

  He didn’t want her to be uneasy. He wanted her to feel natural, to be able to say anything to him. He wanted her willing to share herself with him.

  But sharing was not a one-way proposition.

  And the discovery that the idea of sharing himself in return wasn’t terrifying shook him up more than anything else.

  “What’s funnier?” he asked.

  She laughed, the sound soft, but self-deprecating. “I’ve never even seen snow. Not for real.”

  “Never seen snow?”

  She shook her head. “Pretty hysterical, isn’t it?”

  “Why?”

  She caught his gaze as if gauging how much more of herself she should reveal.

  All of it, he wanted to say, shocking himself again with the strength and sureness of the response.

  “Why not, Blue? Never had the chance? Never made the chance?”

  “Never made the chance.” It was an admission.

  “Why?”

  She looked away. His hand was on her cheek before he realized he’d moved, turning her face back to his. “Tell me the rest.”

  She stared at him. “I have no idea why I told you what I have.”

  His touch turned into a caress. “I’m not sure why I need to know, either. But I do know one thing.”

  “What?”

  “You can tell me anything.”

  She started to turn away, but he held her chin, gently keeping her face tilted to his. He waited for her to look at him again.

  “And anything you do tell me is safe with me.” He slid his fingers back, cupping her head. “You are safe with me.”

  “Diego.”

  He tilted her head back, lowering his mouth to hers. An inch away from tasting her, she closed her hand around his forearm.

  “There is no such thing as safety,” she whispered, her breath caressing his lips.

  He stared into her eyes, feeling his heart race. “Maybe not,” he admitted. “But there is calculated risk.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to risk anything again.”

  “There are no guarantees in life, Blue. Just take things as they
come. No rules. No expectations.”

  “No promises.”

  “I only make promises I can keep. I haven’t broken one yet.”

  “How many have you made?”

  His mouth curved at the corners. Smart woman. “Very few.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He framed her face with his other hand, letting his thumbs drift over her lower lip. He felt her slight tremor race through his fingers all the way to his toes. “Can I taste you now?” He’d meant to sound cocky, but his voice sounded needy. Too needy.

  Her lips were parted under the pressure of his thumb. And when he brushed the pad over the edge of her teeth she moaned deep in her throat.

  He paused, searching her eyes, for what, he didn’t know.

  She let go of the rifle, letting it dangle on her hip from the sling, and cupped his face, catching him badly off guard.

  Touching her was wreaking havoc on him, but he was unprepared for her touching him. He’d never gotten that far in his mind. Had never known being touched could be like this. Dangerous.

  “No rules, right?” she asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  His fingertips followed the curve of her lips.

  She did the same to him.

  “No,” he said, his voice no more than a rasp. “No, there aren’t.”

  “Kiss me, Diego.”

  Never stop touching me, Blue. The sweet pressure of her lips under his was the only way he could be sure he hadn’t spoken out loud. He deepened the kiss, feeling her lips getting wet and slippery with the taste of him … of them.

  “Touch me, Blue.”

  His roughly murmured plea was answered immediately. She slid her tongue into his mouth, and pushed her fingers into his hair, down his neck, then across his shoulders.

  He shuddered and took her tongue into his mouth, holding her there as he wanted her to hold him. Inside her. Deeply. Tightly.

  She skimmed her hands down to the small of his back, pressing her palms against him, urging his body forward. If he so much as brushed against her, he knew he would spontaneously combust.

  He pulled his lips from hers, almost moaning at the sudden emptiness he felt without her tongue filling his mouth. He rested his forehead on hers, catching his breath, listening to hers even out as well. Her hands relaxed on his back.