Inner Diva (10 page)

He headed over, grabbing a rag and rubbing
his hands on it. “Here to pick up your car?”

“No. No, I’m not. Uh, I’m here to see
someone.” Here to see someone? She made it sound like it was
visiting hours at the hospital.

“Who?” Lines formed between his eyebrows, his
confusion showing on his face.

She cleared her throat, the bag of food
becoming heavy in her arms. “Carlos Garcia?” She peeked through the
doorway again, but couldn’t see him.

“You’re here to see Carlos?” He must have
felt the need to clarify, even though she’d told him that very
thing, quite clearly. Maybe he was having a hard time believing
her.

She nodded, and before he turned away she saw
a faint grin. He went through the doorway, his shoulders
maneuvering through it with a slight twist. She heard his voice
with a trace of humor, “Carlos, you have a visitor. Ding,
ding!”

She felt the blood drain from her face. He
was teasing Carlos for having a visitor. A female visitor.
Her
. What had she done? She’d shown up here on an impulse.
Would Carlos be angry? Embarrassed?

Or, quite possibly, she wasn’t Carlos’ first
female visitor.

She stood her ground and soon, he appeared
through the doorway, his broad form shrinking it even more. He wore
a button down shirt of a thick, dark gray fabric, his name on a tag
sewed to his chest, tucked into jeans. Her breath caught in her
throat at the sight of him, and all she could manage was a little
smile as he came around the counter to greet her.

His grin was so genuine, she had no doubt he
was glad to see her. “Hi.”

At his one syllable, spoken in a rumbling,
breathy tone, a spurt of desire dove inside her. Her face suddenly
warm, she hoped he couldn’t read what effect he had on her.

It was amazing what this man did to her.

She held up the bag. “I brought lunch. Can
you take a break?”

His smile reminded her of a sunrise
brightening a dark sky. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, and she
breathed in the manly scent of him – a mixture of car engine
smells, musk and soap.

“This is so nice of you. Just give me a
minute and I’ll wash up.”

He left and returned moments later, his hands
smelling of disinfectant. She looked around. “Do you have a break
room with a table?”

He shook his head. “It’s not too cold today.
How do you feel about sitting outside?”

You’re gonna have to keep me warm, big guy.
And I can think of a number of ways you can do it.

“Fine!” she said, a little too quickly.

Out back, they sat at a picnic table. She
unloaded the food and offered him the sandwich, chips and tea. He
dug in with a flourish.

“This is a surprise. Thank you.”

She wiped the side of her mouth with a
napkin. “I’m sort of celebrating.”

He stopped eating and looked up. “And what
are we celebrating?”

She smiled. “The Board approved the funding
for the advertising. We’re going to do television, print,
billboards, radio – you name it. There won’t be a single person in
St. Louis who hasn’t heard of our theater.”

He let his sandwich drop into its wrapper and
reached over, taking her hands in his. His smile made his cocoa
eyes crinkle at the sides and she beamed at him. He knew what this
meant to her, and he looked just as pleased as she was.
“Congratulations. See? Your presentation must not have been as bad
as you thought.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m sure it was. But
for some reason, they decided to go with it anyway.”

“For some reason, huh? How about because your
ideas for their campaign were creative and brilliant, despite the
fact you dropped your computer?”

“You think so?” Her head was spinning. She
shook off her excitement and forced herself to take a bite of her
sandwich, although she’d forgotten about her appetite. “Oh, and I’m
the team lead.”

He looked at her with eyebrows raised.
“Congratulations again. You’ll be a great team lead.” He sounded so
sure.

“Why do you say that?” She picked up her
bottle of tea.

“Because you’re great with people. You’re
creative. And you know what you’re doing.” He finished his sandwich
with one last bite, and turned to his bag of chips. No appetite
loss there.

She shook her head. “You make me sound so
competent. But I have a hard time relating those traits to …
me.”

He ripped the bag open, then went motionless
as he stared at her. “What do you mean?”

She shifted on the wooden bench. “I’m not any
of those things. I mean, I get along with people, but that doesn’t
make me a good leader. Leaders have to be decisive, influential,
motivational. I’m none of those things.” She took a sip of her
drink. “And creative? I suppose I have a bunch of ideas, but I
never know which ones are good, and which ones are crap, until
someone tells me.”

He laid his hand over hers on the rough wood
surface. “You can do anything you put your mind to. I can see that.
I only wonder why you don’t.”

She looked at him. She knew why. Because she
was never the smart one – that was Barbie. She wasn’t the
accomplished one – Barbie again. Monica was the helper, the one in
the background. Her mother and sister had always made that clear.
She knew her place in life. Right in line behind them. Carlos
didn’t know them. He’d never seen where she rightfully
belonged.

But, wasn’t she breaking out of her family’s
mold for her? Wasn’t she determined to have meaning in her own
life? She had important things to do in her own right. Like being a
role model for Luisa. Like leading a team of people to create a
fantastic advertising campaign. Like realizing her dream of
becoming an actress.

Like forming a relationship with a man who
made her so crazy with desire and passion, she didn’t recognize
herself.

She gazed at Carlos and for a split second
she tried to see herself as he did. Confident, accomplished, sure.
She caught a sight of it for a breath of a moment. She wanted to be
that woman Carlos thought she was. Maybe if she spent enough time
with him she’d become it for real. He’d be the sun that coaxed her
seedling out of the ground to grow into a strong fruit-bearing
plant.

“You’re not eating your sandwich,” he noted.
With all the self-morphing thoughts whirling around her head,
eating was the last thing on her mind. She laughed and handed it to
him.

“Sure?”

She nodded and he attacked her sandwich.

She was glad she came. This man was good for
her. She just hoped she could live up to the traits he thought she
already had.

Carlos returned to the Toyota Corolla he was
working on. His belly full and his heart light, he reviewed the
work he’d been doing in the car’s engine.

“Well, well. Whistling a happy tune, are
you?”

He looked up at Hank, the owner of the shop.
Had he been whistling? He hadn’t noticed. “What?”

“A broad brings you lunch and you come back
to work dancing a jig. Did you two slip away for a quickie in the
shed?”

Carlos sighed. He looked back in the engine.
“No. Just sandwiches.”

Hank roared with laughter, which, to Carlos’
chagrin, attracted the attention of the other men in the shop,
causing them to look up from their work. “So ham and cheese gets
you this cheery, eh?” He let loose another guttural roar, ending
with a smoker’s hack.

Resisting the urge to go pound the guy on the
back, Carlos turned back to his work.

“That your new woman?” Now recovered, Hank
picked up the thread of conversation, slight though it was, and
pressed on.

Carlos sighed and put the engine out of his
mind for now. “I’ve been out with her once. She was thinking about
me and brought me lunch.” He stopped, and glared at his boss,
willing him to say anything else. He didn’t. “That’s about it.”

Hank held his palms out toward Carlos. “Okay,
okay. This ain’t the first lady who came to the shop. How about
that Gloria? She was hot, eh?”

Anger flared in Carlos’ chest. What was he
getting at? That Monica wasn’t hot? Well, that was fine. He didn’t
want the guys ogling Monica like they used to ogle Gloria and
countless other women whose main assets were evident to the naked
eye of any man who bothered to look in her direction. Monica was
different. She was classy, intelligent. She had an important job,
and she was good at it.

What she saw in him, he wasn’t sure, but he
hoped it was more than just physical.

That thought, as soon as it passed through
his brain, stopped him cold. What, did he want her to love him for
his mind?

He smirked, knowing it was ridiculous. Of
course, he wanted her to desire his body, as he desired hers. But
this time it was different. He needed to guard against falling into
the same traps he always fell into with women. Each relationship
started based on physical attraction, it went fast and hot like a
Nascar race, and then it ended quickly, like crossing a finish
line. Often, there was a fiery crash and burn at the end. He was
the Dale Earnhardt of the dating world.

Hank must’ve tired of the subject of Carlos’
lunch visitor because he finally meandered away, leaving Carlos to
finish the Corolla.

What a difference a date makes.

Monica left the theater Wednesday to prepare
for her second date with Carlos. She thought back to when she was
getting ready for her first date – emotion verging on hysteria. She
didn’t know what to wear, what he’d do, what to say.

She stopped at the mall to breeze through
Macy’s. If the perfect clothing item reached out and grabbed her,
she’d buy it. If it didn’t, that was fine, too.

Fortunately, the shopping gods were on her
side this time. Within a few minutes she saw a cute cropped sweater
in a luscious shade that reminded her of the inside of a kiwi
fruit. She selected one in her size and flattened it against her
chest. No baggy sweaters for her tonight. It was definitely
form-fitting, not a style she normally chose. But for Carlos, and
for her new self-confident persona, it was the perfect choice. A
pair of black pants rounded out the casual outfit, and she mentally
selected her shoes and jewelry from her closet while she paid and
raced back to her car. Time to shower and pamper herself – shave
her legs, lotion all over, take more care with her makeup.

At seven on the dot, her doorbell rang. Just
in time, too. She’d planned the prep time perfectly. But if she had
to sit much longer, she’d come up with something to fret about.

At the sight of Carlos on her doorstep,
cleaned and shined for an evening with her, she felt something
tumble deep within her. Would she ever stop having this intense
response to the very sight of him? Even when she’d seen him a
hundred times, a thousand times, a million.

“Hi,” she breathed. “You look great.” He took
a step inside and leaned down to kiss her. She closed her eyes and
waited for his lips to connect with her cheek, but he surprised
her. She gasped and soaked in the sensation of his warm lips on her
own, his tongue probed gently through her opened mouth. Warmth
filled her and her knees became so shaky she thought they might
fold beneath her.

Could he read her mind? Just as the thought
flitted through her brain, he pulled her into his strong arms. She
felt safe there, and his mouth continued its exquisite assault on
hers. She couldn’t get enough and stroked her fingers through his
silky hair. A groan came from deep in his throat and she thrilled
at the knowledge that she had caused it.

This man made her ache to do things alien to
her normal behavior. If he lifted her up in those muscled arms
right now, left the door standing open and carried her back to her
bedroom, she’d do nothing but hurry him along. If she really
stopped to think about how deeply she wanted him, it would scare
her to death.

He ended the kiss, let his hand linger on her
cheek and smiled. “Wow. Nice greeting.” He walked past her, but she
didn’t shut the door – she was watching the glorious sight of his
rear end hugged in blue jeans, so close she could reach out and
touch it. He paused, then chuckled, turned back and shut the door
himself.

“Like what you see?”

Her face bathed in warmth, she knew her skin
had turned an embarrassed shade of pink. He’d caught her staring at
his butt!

He chuckled again and grabbed her hand,
pulling her to sit with him on the couch. “I’m sorry,” she
murmured, knowing some type of response was warranted, but not
having a single clue what the proper one would be. He silenced her
effectively by kissing her again.

“I’m not,” he said with a smile. “Ready to
go?”

He took her to a huge movie plex and they
chose an action adventure flick. After a couple hours of car
chases, gun fights and macho profanity, they drove to a nearby
restaurant and ordered a variety of appetizers to share.

After the waitress left, he put his hands on
the table and stretched them toward her, his palms up. She put her
hands in his and he squeezed them slightly. She loved how
comfortable she felt touching him.

“How did your meeting go with your team?”

“Not too bad. I had everyone go around the
room and tell us their name and background. Then I asked for one
interesting fact about themselves that no one in the room
knew.”

He smiled. “What kinds of facts did you find
out?”

She laughed. “One guy races dirt bikes in his
spare time. One woman writes mystery novels and has an agent
representing her. One guy had a liver transplant a few years ago.
Hmm, what else?”

As she pondered the last few team members’
revelations, he asked, “What did you tell them about yourself? You
had to tell them one too, right?”

She couldn’t believe she said it. She was
thinking it, but she hadn’t realized it had popped out of her mouth
until she saw his reaction. “I told them I’m dating a hot Latin
lover.”