July (Calendar Girl #7) (3 page)

“Doll.” His voice was gritty, as if he swallowed a spoonful of sand.

“And
Lucita
?” I let my lips hover close enough to his cheek that I could feel the stubble on his jaw.

He groaned and laid a hand on my hip, a feather light hold that my mind dismissed casually. “Little light.”

Little light?
I moved my head back breaking the intensity of the moment and the halo of lust surrounding our close proximity. “Little light?” I couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped. “Why?”

With the lightest touch of the tips of two fingers, he traced the ball of my shoulder and slid those digits down along the sensitive skin of my arm. Gooseflesh rose against the surface, a gnarled pair of claws worked their way up from where he held my wrist up my arm, over my chest to coil around my heart and squeeze. Blackness entered my vision and the sound of a heartbeat thudded loudly. My skin felt tight, constricted, every nerve prickling with the desire to run, cower…escape.

“You ready to get pounded?” he growls, his breath hitting my face with little flecks of spittle.

My body presses against the concrete wall of the library. The sickening sound of his pants being unbuckled and the noise of the zipper going down is like my own personal death knell. I scream as loud as I can, but he swoops down so fast and bites the sound from my lips and then slams my head into the concrete. Pain flashes across my vision like stars in an open dessert sky.

“No!”

“No!” I screamed and pushed the hard body standing too close then jumped back until I hit the edge of a couch. A couch? Huh? Moving my head back and forth I shook off the web of memories clouding my judgement.

Holy fucking shit! What. The. Hell. Was. That?

Two pairs of horrified eyes watched as I came to. “Mia…” Heather gasped, her hand over her mouth.

“
Lucita
, I…
perdóname
. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you somehow?” Anton’s voice was tinged with distaste and something that I could only name as fear.

Shit. This was not going well. Why did I have that flashback? What the hell triggered it?

I shook my head. “No, no, sorry guys. I think I’m just tired from traveling, and I haven’t eaten, and I drank the martini so quickly…yeah, I’m sure that’s what it was.” Had to be.

Anton’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Let’s get you fed. I will not tolerate my team not having their needs met. Come. H, let’s go to our favorite.” He held out his hand to me and I placed mine within it. The familiar stirrings of excitement were still there but now with the edge of nervousness. From the simple act of holding his hand. What. The. Fuck.
This is not you, Mia.
I needed to figure this out and quick. But how?

Not knowing what else to do, I followed Anton and Heather out the door, my mind in a tizzy and the circle of fear still nipping at my heels.

***

Dinner was awesome. Delicious
Gnocchi al Gorgonzola
they called it at Il Gabbiano, the upscale Italian restaurant Anton took us to. I was completely underdressed, but so were he and Heather. As we walked into the place, several of Anton’s security team was hot on our tails. We entered as though we were royalty. The restaurant manager spied us and made his way over as if he was barefoot walking on steaming black coals. He sat us with no waiting at a corner table with a beautiful view of the Atlantic ocean. Anton ordered several appetizers with a flourish and a pristine white smile. His pale green and brown gaze dazzled every woman within a twenty foot radius and garnered the attention of the other patrons. Both Heather and I ordered antipasti, me wanting something devilishly decadent and filled with a bazillion calories, so I ordered my all-time favorite, puffy pillows of goodness, gnocchi covered in crème sauce. It was absolute heaven on the taste buds.

Anton ordered a shrimp and pasta dish, and ate his food with speed and efficiency, as though it would jump off his plate back into the ocean. When I questioned his feverish eating, he frowned, wiped his mouth and looked out over the Atlantic. Heather studiously changed the subject before he could answer. Apparently she knew something about this particular hot button item that I didn’t. I glanced at her, and she shook her head minutely. The conversation turned to the music video and what the plan was.

That’s when I had to drop the giant atomic bomb that I had absolutely no skills in the art of dance, what-so-ever.

“None?” Anton’s eyebrows pinched together. I shook my head and bit my lip. He lifted a hand, scraped it across his five o’clock shadow, and inhaled. “We’ll have to do something about this. You”—his hand gestured from the top of my head to the end of the table—“are
perfecto
eh…perfect as the seductress. H, you couldn’t have picked someone better. We must solve this little issue.” He rubbed his hands together. Anton’s pupils darkened. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” He was speaking to Heather, not me.

Her lips tipped up and she tapped her index finger against her lips and shrugged. “If she’s available. The dance company in San Francisco just finished, and that wicked man who was stalking her group of friends is gone.” She shimmied in her seat. “The news has cleared. Perhaps having her come on as the choreographer would fix the problems you’re having with the backup dancers. I’ll give her a call, see if she’s interested in saving your ass. You know it’s going to cost you.”

Anton laughed. “Doesn’t everything, H? I want her. I’m tired of dealing with this stupid fucker, and her contemporary work is best. Add the Latin fusion, she’ll know how to spin the angles right. I want all eyes to be on Mia. Want her mouthwateringly desirable on the video. Every man will want her, and no man will have her.” He grinned salaciously and popped an entire shrimp into his mouth and dropped the tail onto the side plate. Anton was beaming, obviously excited about his new idea.

“So uh, who’s this choreographer?”

Heather sipped her white wine and wiped her mouth. “A really gifted contemporary dancer who’s been on stage with the San Francisco Dance Company the last couple years, so we haven’t been able to steal her away.” She pointed one finger at Anton while holding her wine glass. “Anton fell in love with her body and the way she moves when we saw her show last year.”

That information surprised me. “You’re into theatre productions?” I butted in.

“Yes,
Lucita
. It calms me, and seduces my muse. I love to see others dancing, singing to the classics and new innovative pieces.”

“Anyway,” Heather interrupted, “we found out she teaches dance for the San Francisco Theatre exclusively. You know she won’t leave San Francisco for Miami.” She addressed that last part to him. Anton frowned. “Something about needing to be where her sisters are. But if we offer her enough and get on the horn quickly, she might be willing to head out for the time Mia’s here while we’re filming. Could really add the element we need to take the video to the next level.” Abruptly, Heather stood up. “I’ll call now.” She looked down at her watch. “They’re three hours behind so we’re good.” Without further comment she left the table and headed for the open balcony.

I sipped my wine and looked out over the ocean. The breeze wafted around us but the heat lamps near our table provided enough warmth. “That assistant of yours is pretty efficient.”

Anton smiled. “She is. That’s why I keep her.”

“May I be frank?” I asked pressing my lips together, waiting.

He leaned back, crossed an ankle to his knee and spread his arms out. “Of course.”

“Why do you have that harsh tone with her? Don’t you ever worry she’ll leave you?” I truly wondered why anyone would stay with a man who acted like his shit didn’t stink half of the time, and the other half laid back and easy going. It was as though there were two completely different sides to him.

“What would make you think that?” His eyes narrowed.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the way you bark at her over the phone, walk in front of her like she’s your peon, and throw orders at her while walking away.”

Anton scowled. “I value Heather’s opinion over all others. Hers is the only one I give credence to…ever. I trust her implicitly.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Anton grabbed his drink and inhaled the rest of his Shiraz. “Has she said anything to you about leaving?” His tone proved that the idea of Heather leaving him was not a welcome one.

“No! Not at all. I do get the hint that she wants more.”

“More?” The question hung heavy. “As in a relationship?”

I shook my head. Was he really that narcissistic? Scanning his body and the face angels would weep for, I guess he had a right to be. Sort of. “Not that I know of. I was referring to her work. Something she mentioned about her dream being to manage an artist. You seem to be lacking a manager at this time.”

Anton’s hand came up to his mouth where he stroked that supremely kissable bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “I don’t have one. Usually I just bounce all the decisions off of H and she sets everything up.”

Interesting. “So, she’s kind of already managing you without the benefits or clout the title of Manager carries. Bummer for her.” Nonchalantly I fiddled with my hair and adjusted my seat so I was facing the water to give him space. The ocean is absolutely stunning. A pang hit my heart as I realized how much I missed home.

Home.

Crap. It looked like I’d inadvertently answered a question I’d been mulling over for the better part of a few months.

Home was California.

The sun streaked through the curtains blinding me in its glory. Day three and I finally felt as though I’d gotten enough sleep. Yesterday was a whirlwind of meetings with the beautician, stylist, and crew. Tonight we would meet the choreographer. She would be flying in this morning and wanted a meet and greet with the entire team in the dance studio right away. Hopefully, that didn’t mean she was going to be a hard ass drill sergeant type. Anxiety and excitement warred in equal parts, skittering along my senses as I wondered if she’d be able to get me shimmying in a way that wouldn’t look like Elaine from that dreaded Seinfeld episode Dad loves.

This white girl can’t dance. It’s always been a bone of contention with me and my agent. I can carry a tune, act, and apparently model well enough, but I’ve never been gifted with the art of dance. Ginelle, however, can dance her way out of a hurricane. Her work with Dainty Dolls Burlesque put her on the map and the stage loves her. Even pint-sized she packs a lot in her tiny form and can move across the stage better than anyone I know.

Sadness swirled around me like a cloak. Gin would’ve loved being here to meet with a fancy choreographer from San Francisco. Once I find out who it is, I’ll have to give her a heads up, see what she knows, if anything, about the mysterious woman that Anton is head over heels for. Well, as far as her dancing is concerned.

My phone pinged as I turned it on. I scanned the messages, bleary eyed from a full night’s sleep. One message was from Maddy, updating me about school, thanking me for the most recent check I sent for books and food. It still irked me that I didn’t have to pay for her living expenses anymore. I took deep breaths and let go a little more every day. I’ll never fully let go of my responsibility when it comes to my baby sister. It’s far too ingrained into the very fiber of my being. However, I have to constantly remind myself that she’s an adult, one who is living with her now fiancé with her career and future goals all laid out in front of her. She’s happy, healthy, and in a good place, with a guy who seems to dote on her every whim. He better stay that way or I’ll tie the fucker down and pluck out every hair on his chest one at time with my handy dandy tweezers.

The next message chills my blood. Oh, that bestie of mine is going to get it. There’s only one way that he’d know about my birthday and that’s if someone told him.

To: Mia Saunders

From: Wes Channing

Little birdie told me your birthday was next week and that you’re in Miami. Carve out a day away. You can’t possibly want to spend your birthday with a stranger. I’m coming to see you. Be ready. We’ve got months to make up for.

With a flourish I rang the little snake that gave away the goods.

“H-ullo,” a sleepy voice answered. “Mia, you okay?” She responded again, this time a bit more alert.

“How could you?” I grated into the phone, holding my cell as if it was a hammer ready to strike.

Ginelle sighed and mumbled. “Had to be done.” She yawned.

“Really? Had to be done. Is that your response? I’m so mad at you.” I whisper-yelled into the phone. Why I was whispering I couldn’t say since there was no one in the apartment with me.

She groaned and yawned once more. “Mia, I did an eeny meenie miny moe of hot guys from the phone numbers I stole from your phone.” I rolled my eyes and clenched my teeth. Just like her to steal their numbers instead of asking for them. “Wes was the one I landed on. You shouldn’t spend your birthday alone.” Her voice turned into a cross between a high pitched yawn and her normal witty self. “I’d come out, but you know after May’s vacation I can’t take the time. What time is it anyways?”

I glanced at the clock on the side table. Eight o’clock in the morning on the East coast. Snickering, I responded. “Five your time. Serves you right. Now I have to deal with Wes.”

“Deal with him? Hmm, I’d be doing a lot more than dealing with him. Why are you so mad anyway?”

Good point. Gin meddled in my business all the time and never before had I been angry with her. Perhaps it’s because I wasn’t ready to see Wes so soon after the Aaron debacle and the fact that I was still working through my own issues over what happened. All of this on top of the big whopper that I was falling in love with the guy. Fuck! That was the problem. My mind could push back, fight my heart all it wanted to, but the end-all be-all was that I’m in love with the dirty blond, sex god, who looks just as good in a pair of low-slung swim trunks or a tux, as he does buck naked. Definitely prefer the bare ass naked version. I licked my lips remembering our last encounter in Chi-Town. It was intense, carnal, and seared into my memory for eternity.