Fierce Pride (3 page)

Libby laughed. “You two are so funny. Have you hired a photographer for the wedding? We should have photos of you and Santos together.”

“Daddy can handle the photos,” Maggie replied. “Ana Santillan took gorgeous photos of Santos and me at the ranch. Her work is better than many professional photographers.”

Santos snorted. “Ana Santillan ought to stay in front of the camera.”

“
The
Ana Santillan, the supermodel?” Libby asked.

“Yes,” Rafael answered. “Santos knows many exciting women.”

“
Knew
,” Santos emphasized. “Ana and I are no longer friends. Now let’s talk about flamenco and how beautifully Maggie dances.”

“My favorite topic,” Rafael added.

Santos winked at Libby. He couldn’t dance a step of flamenco, but he hoped he’d be able to take her to clubs where they could dance together. As lively as she was, she had to be a great dancer. He forced himself not to imagine her gorgeous body naked in his bed, but it was definitely a challenge.

The Bailaora café was located on a dark, narrow street. Santos took Libby’s hand so she wouldn’t trip on the cobblestones. “This isn’t the best part of town. Stay close.”

“We came for the dancing,” Maggie replied, “and we’re safe with Rafael.”

“You have more confidence in him than I do,” Santos murmured.

Rafael pushed open the door of the small café, and the owner, Felipe Muñoz, hurried to greet him. “Matador, welcome. How good to see you here again, and you’ve brought your beautiful lady. Will you dance for us tonight?”

“We’d rather see your dancers. I’m sure you recognize Santos Aragon out of the ring.”

Felipe stared wide-eyed. “Santos Aragon!” He turned toward the crowded room. “Everyone, what an occasion!”

The café’s regular patrons leaped to their feet and cheered, “Santos, Santos!”

Astonished, Libby gripped her sister’s arm. “Does everyone treat him like a rock star?”

“A handsome matador has fans wherever he goes,” Maggie replied. “We won’t be noticed.”

“Is that what happened with Ana Santillan? She couldn’t stand sharing the spotlight?”

“No, she sold photos of the family to the tabloids, and Santos regarded it as a betrayal.”

“I see. He’d rather not date a paparazzo.”

“With cell phones, everyone’s a paparazzo now.”

Libby looked around and found half a dozen men and a couple of women using their cell phones to take photos of Rafael and Santos. She’d always dated attractive men, but never famous ones, and she didn’t understand how Maggie could stand being pushed aside. When they were shown to a table near the low stage, Santos took her hand and flashed his charming grin, but despite his warm attention, she felt completely out of place. With her height, she might be mistaken for a model if Santos usually dated them. She struck a more graceful pose and let everyone wonder who she might be. After a few sips of Ribeiro
,
a bubbly Spanish wine, she relaxed enough to stop obsessing over the situation and enjoy the dancers.

The first woman wore a black dress with big white polka dots. Her dark hair was slicked back in a chignon and her fingertips painted as bright a red as her lips. She danced with a crisp step and was clearly a crowd favorite. Libby leaned close to assure Maggie she was a far better dancer.

“She is, isn’t she?” Rafael agreed. “Do you want to dance with me?”

“The way I dance,” Libby replied, “I’d damage your reputation.”

Rafael laughed. “Impossible, I have none to lose.”

Santos ran his fingertips up Libby’s back with a slow, affectionate touch. She longed to lean against him like a grateful cat. Maggie had warned her he chewed up women and spit them out, but they must have had a great time while they were with him. She’d checked his website that afternoon and found him shown in his full matador regalia. He looked so much like the portrait of his father in the den, she began to worry her mother would be reminded of a time she’d rather not recall.

She enjoyed Santos’s gentle touch, craved it more than she wished to, but she wouldn’t encourage him. She moved her chair closer to her sister’s and sent him a warning glance. He winked at her. He might be useful in her plan to send Maggie home single, but no matter how tempting asking for more would be, that was all she wanted from him. Eventually, she might even convince herself.

A couple danced next. They flirted with the crowd as well as each other and were applauded at length when they took their bows. “They were cute, but weren’t they missing something?” Libby asked.

Rafael nodded. “They lack passion. Flamenco should be aflame with desire.”

“Show us,” Santos urged.

“Not without Magdalena.”

Maggie sat forward. “What if I simply stood and ignored your efforts to impress me?”

Rafael rose and offered his hand. Felipe Muñoz hushed the crowd, and the guitarist strummed a flourish. Maggie asked if anyone had a fan, and the café owner quickly produced one of black lace. She opened the sexy prop, peered over the edge and took Rafael’s hand to step up on the low stage. Once there, she kept her back turned toward him as he began a slow, taunting beat with his heels. He moved close, and she stepped away. He circled her, but she kept her back toward him. The crowd began to call encouragement to him, but Maggie kept a graceful distance until the last note of the dance. Then she fell into Rafael’s arms and kissed him soundly.

Libby clapped as enthusiastically as the café’s other patrons, while Santos gazed at the floor. “You suggested they dance,” she reminded him.

“Obviously a mistake,” he replied regretfully.

Libby agreed. Maggie and Rafael danced so beautifully together, it wouldn’t be as easy as she’d hoped to separate them. With a scholarship for medical school, Rafael had to be intelligent as well as good-looking. Maggie was half Spaniard, so they couldn’t criticize his place of birth. He appeared to be close to her sister’s age, so he wasn’t too old or too young for her. Still, there had to be something damning in the man’s background, but whatever it was, Maggie obviously didn’t care.

Or maybe she didn’t know. Libby moved closer to Santos and whispered in his ear, “We need another detective.”

Chapter Two

When they returned to the beach house, Maggie led them into the den. “There’s a liquor cabinet filled with all sorts of delicious liqueurs. Isn’t Bailey’s Irish Cream your favorite?”

“Yes, I’d love some,” Libby answered.

Santos poured some for her and Maggie in beautiful hand-blown glasses. “Rafael?”

“Nothing, thank you.” He waited until everyone was sipping their drink and took the chair opposite Libby. He waited for her to swallow. “I spent six years in prison for killing the man who raped my sister.” He caught her glass as it slipped from her hand.

“I know it isn’t something I should include on my résumé, but I won’t hide it either. I plan to tell your parents, but Maggie would rather I didn’t.”

Libby stared at him wide-eyed. “How did you kill him?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“In a knife fight, but he started it when I confronted him. I got cut up too, and my sister later died of a drug overdose, so the story doesn’t have a happy ending. What do you think your parents will say?”

Libby looked to Maggie. “Do you remember how many questions Daddy used to ask before he’d let us go out with a boy? I’m twenty-one, and when I’m home, he still asks about my dates. He won’t like this at all. I wonder if he’s Googled Rafael.”

Maggie slumped into the corner of the sofa. “I should have thought of it. Is there any hope the information he’d find there is all in Spanish?”

“Let’s look.” Santos opened his laptop and went to Google. “There’s your website and a few references as a matador. I don’t see anything in English.”

Rafael handed Libby her glass. “All I have on the website is my schedule and a few photos. There’s no biography. That doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist somewhere, though, but I should tell your father the truth before he discovers it on his own.” He stood. “I don’t want to spoil the evening. I’m going home.”

Maggie set her drink aside and walked him to the front door. “If my parents won’t welcome you into the family, I’ll marry you without their blessing.”

Rafael raised his hands to frame her face and kissed her gently. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“It isn’t your choice, it’s mine. Whether you’re El Gitano or a medical student, you’re the man I love. Now let’s go to your place tonight.”

A slow smile slid across his mouth. “What do you have in mind?”

“You know damn well what I have in mind.” She kept hold of his hand but stepped back to look into the den. “I’ll see you in the morning, Libby. We need to shop for your dress and Patricia’s.”

“Fine,” Libby answered. It took her a moment to realize her sister had left with Rafael. She’d thought he’d looked dangerous when she’d first seen him, but it unnerved her to learn he’d killed a man and served prison time. She gulped the rest of her Bailey’s and the last of Maggie’s.

“Would you like me to pour you another?” Santos asked.

He’d been awfully agreeable tonight, which she found far more appealing than his hostile glare on the beach, but she refused to like it too much. “No, thanks, one is usually my limit. I feel sick. I ought to call my parents and tell them not to come.”

He eased down beside her on the couch. “If you do, you’ll be blamed for whatever happens. Let Maggie handle it, and you two will remain close.”

Libby understood his reasoning, but she felt torn. “She’s five years older and always behaved like a second mother to Patricia and me. But how could she have gotten involved with a murdering matador?”

Santos raised a brow. “He was defending himself. If he’d had a better attorney, he probably wouldn’t have gone to prison.”

Libby ripped the pins from her hair and let it spill over her shoulders. “Whose side are you on?”

Santos sucked in a deep breath and reached over to twirl a golden curl around his finger. “I want what’s best for Maggie. Rafael has to be the one to break her heart, not us.”

His deep voice made his advice doubly convincing. Libby watched him move close and could have turned away. Doing what was smart had lost its appeal. Maybe it was curiosity, or the shock of learning Rafael had been in prison had left her too confused to object. She leaned in to savor his kiss. He smelled so good, tasted like fine brandy and kissed her softly, tenderly, as though he adored her. She was soon seated on his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. She’d kissed plenty of men, and none had ever been this good. None had been Latin lovers either. Maybe it was in their genes.

He slid his fingers through her hair and teased her with lazy kisses. She couldn’t stand men who jammed their tongue down her throat, but Santos merely flicked his tongue in her mouth. He ran a hand down her leg in a smooth slide, and his lazy touch felt as good as his kisses. His hair was thick, soft as silk and curled over her fingers.

If Rafael were as good at this as Santos, it was no wonder Maggie had fallen for him so fast.

She leaned back and caught a glimpse of the magnificent painting of Miguel sailing his cape over a charging bull. It dominated the room and was a stark reminder she was in a foreign world, where she’d only meant to be a tourist. She fought to get a hold of herself. When she wanted so much more, it was a struggle. “I’m concerned about Maggie, but I need to take care of myself too,” she announced too loudly. She slid off his lap and straightened her dress over her thighs. “You’re awfully good, but we need to concentrate on our mission.”

Santos regarded her with a confused gaze. “What mission?”

She had to swallow hard so her voice wouldn’t shake. “Convincing our sister not to marry Rafael.”

Santos shoved off the couch. His shirt was unbuttoned and pulled out of his pants. “I’ll try, as long as you promise to remember we’re not related.”

His voice was low and emphatic, but he’d been too charming tonight for her to turn wary again. She also knew enough about men’s fragile egos not to laugh. “You made that point earlier, and we just proved it. What time do you want to go sailing?”

He walked her to the bottom of the front stairs. “Is six thirty too early for you?”

“No. They say the best way to beat jet lag is to adjust your schedule to the local time. I’ll meet you on the patio.”

She was already upstairs when she began to wonder if any of the servants lived in. If not, then she and Santos were alone in a very large, strange and dark house. Finally she understood how it felt to be swept off her feet, but she’d caught herself in time, or so she hoped. Closing her door, she locked it with the big, old-fashioned key, keeping herself in as much as keeping him out.

Rafael’s apartment was small, but Maggie had so many cherished memories of the time they’d spent there, she didn’t worry over the fact they really needed to find a larger place. She kicked off her shoes and walked into Rafael’s arms. “Now that we’re alone, please tell me you wouldn’t leave me no matter what my parents say.”

He slid his arms around her waist. “I want to be a gentleman, but you have that dangerous gleam in your eyes.”