Miami Spice (3 page)

“What’s his name?” Erica’s eyes continued to
focus on “Mr. Cocksure.”

“Um, let’s see. Carlo, I think. Funny, here I
am complaining about the guy and I can’t remember his name, just
his anatomy. Of course, it is hard to forget a superb piece of
anatomy like his.”

Carlo? Erica thought back to Rosina’s note.
The man upstairs went by Giancarlo, but Carlo seemed a common
enough name. Yet, if she went by Tai’s description, the dark man
could easily be her heating-vent Lothario. Returning to her friend,
Erica found herself giggling. “That big?”

Tai shrugged with a sly smile. “Not big, just
muy expierencia
. He knew exactly what to do, how to do it,
and what I wanted. That’s hard to find in a guy. Most don’t give a
crap if you come or not.”

Sitting back, Erica brushed her bare arm
along Tai’s. “So you could say he’s the virtuoso of the lovemaking
world.”

“You could, but with one exception. When you
get right down to it, he doesn’t offer any real affection, just
goes through the motions. If you understand what I mean.”

“Oh, yes. I certainly do.”

When their waitress returned, she brought the
plates of appetizers and another pitcher of beer. Then, after
depositing it all on the table, she announced to the group, “The
beer is compliments of the gentleman at the bar.”

Six pair of eyes traveled to the Man in
Black. Sacha was the first to give their surprise benefactor a wave
of thanks, and the man nodded acknowledgment before returning his
attention back to the bar.

“Ooh, now there’s a hunk if ever I saw one!”
Sacha commented, his voice ripe with interest. “I wonder who’s the
darling recipient of his undying love.” Their flamboyant co-worker
allowed his gaze to travel to each of his drinking companions. “I’d
say one of you ladies is the lucky gal. Go, girlfriend!”

“I don’t think he’s a client.” Craig frowned.
“You gals know him?”

Both Erica and Tai expressed their lack of
acquaintanceship; but when Erica turned to her colleague, Tai threw
her a collusive wink.

“Well, whoever it is, I gladly accept his
generous offer.” With that, Victor began to pour the beer as each
table member passed his or her glass.

Instead of a refill, Erica decided to tackle
the plate of nachos, the tortilla chips rife with black beans,
jalapeños and lots of oozing
queso de asadero.

Maritza had yet to transfer her gaze from the
bar and back to the group. “Well, whoever he is, he’s gone
now.”

Erica flicked her eyes in that direction and
discovered that indeed, the man had left the bar.

“Interesting,” Mari continued. “What could he
want in return? More importantly, why was he so generous?”

“Well, maybe you should go after him.” Tai
leaned across the table and gave Erica’s sister a playful smile.
“He can be your first interview. Just be careful, he may bite.”

Maritza laughed with delight. “That’s never
stopped me before!”

“Well, he’s gone now, so I say, we eat up!”
Erica distributed the stack of plates that came with the food
platters. For some reason, she wanted to redirect everyone’s
attentions back to the table and off the mystery man.

“Well, pass me some of those hot wings,”
Sacha commanded as he held up his plate, “and let the party really
begin!”

By the time Erica settled back with her own
appetizers, she allowed her gaze to drift back to the bar. Nope.
Their enigmatic and attractive beer benefactor hadn’t returned, but
had simply vanished into the night.

* * *

Erica’s eyelids flew open. She had barely
fallen asleep, into a dreamless, deadened if not sodden sleep, when
something tickled her subconscious and brought her back to the
surface. The noise ceased for the moment, and she noted the silence
and the darkness around her, until the murmur of voices
returned—from above.

“Ooh, ooh, yes! Yes, oh, yes!” A woman’s
voice pierced the air with her declarations of sensual delight,
high and syrupy like a burst of sugar-coated joy.

Great! Another night, another conquest for the
elusive Mr. Gianni Sloan! Erica was just about to turn on her side
and place the pillow over her head when her neighbor’s evening
guest let out a few more exclamations.

“Oh,
cariño
, do it some more. Oh,
oh
, tesoro
, you feel sooo goood!”

Erica shot up in bed. If she didn’t know any better,
she’d swear that voice belonged to her sister, Maritza. This time,
she honed in on the conversation or what passed for
communication.

“Oh,
bebe, querido
, what you do to me!
Ooh, ooh, yes, yes! Right there!
Allí, allí!”

Maritza called a lot of people “baby” or
“honey” as a term of endearment, especially men. Erica felt
conflicting emotions. Her sister was a big girl now, certainly
unattached and free to do as she pleased. Yet, why did she feel so
overly protective especially when it came to this guy?
Because
Mr. Gianni Sloan has a terrible reputation as a womanizer, that’s
why!

Flopping back down, Erica made sure to place both
pillows over her face. Now would be a good time to smother herself.
Whatever happened to alcohol-deadened sleep? She felt wide awake
now. Giving up for the moment, she padded out of the bedroom and
into the living room where she settled on the sofa and found the
television remote. Perhaps a spate of classic movies would do the
trick, at least try and persuade her mind to focus on something
other than the carnal scene playing out in the bedroom upstairs.
Maritza...and Gianni Sloan? Where on earth had her sister met him?
Shades of the stranger at the bar kept coming back to haunt her.
No, it couldn’t be! At least she hoped not, if only to ease her
mind that her sister hadn’t picked up Mystery Man/Gianni Sloan the
same night he had tried to put the moves on Erica.

The next time she awoke, sun streamed in
through her sisal blinds and brightened her newly cleaned
apartment. This much sparkle so early in the morning made Erica’s
head spin. Groaning, she grabbed her pillow, hugged it, and sighed
with relief. At least the verbal throes of passion from upstairs
had ceased for the time being.

Happy birthday and feliz cumpleaños!

Erica didn’t feel a year older but certainly tired.
By the time she struggled out of bed and headed for the bathroom,
her cell phone began to trill with well wishers. The first came
from her mother with a reminder about their lunch today. Erica
would just as soon skip the annual birthday feast, but her mother
and Tía Yolanda always took her on a shopping spree afterwards,
their birthday gifts to her.

Next, Sacha called and asked Erica if she
wanted to go out for a drink later that evening. “We’ll go to the
Screaming Parrot,” he offered. “for that complimentary drink they
give all birthday gals.”

Erica scratched her aching head. She had
consumed enough alcohol to last her awhile. She hated to fib, but
she really didn’t feel like going out again after last night. The
image of her suitor-in-black at the bar flashed briefly through her
addled mind. Instead, she told her friend that
La Familia
Rael
expected her for dinner tonight.

By the time Erica showered and changed, she
received six different calls from friends and family.
Yeah,
yeah, happy birthday to me!
For the next several hours she
endured her ladies lunch, and then a trip to the mall where she
finally settled on a new bathing suit from her mother and pair of
designer sandals from her aunt. Oddly enough, Maritza hadn’t joined
them this year, but Erica felt too distracted to worry about her
sister’s whereabouts.

By five, she returned to her quiet apartment
with a takeout container in hand, actually the remains of her
tres leches
cake topped with whipped cream and slices of
kiwi and strawberries.

Erica was just about to settle on the couch
for an evening of old movies when her cell phone rang once more,
this time with Mari’s number on the screen. She and her sister
quickly waded through the many happy returns of the day before
Maritza made her startling announcement.

“You have to meet him,
Eriqueta!
” she
exclaimed with a heady veneer to her voice. “He’s a real
enamorado
, and I know you’ll like him.”

“Mari,” Erica started cautiously, “where did
you meet this man?”

“Last night, but not at the bar. After you
went home, Sacha and I went for coffee at the Blue Dolphin Diner.
You know, to try to counteract the alcohol.”

Erica laughed. “But it only made you both
wide-awake drunks.”

“Not exactly,” her sister countered. “The
coffee actually made us more aware of our slightly buzzed state.
Well, the man was sitting at the counter, and when Sacha went to
the little boys’ room, he came over to the table and we started to
talk. Well, one thing led to another...but the amazing thing is
that he lives in your building!”

Erica sighed. “Let me guess. His name is
Gianni Sloan, and he wore black, right down to the ass-tight
jeans.”

Her sister allowed a pause of surprise to
pass before she spoke again. “Yes, how did you know? Oh, wait, you
do know him.”

“Not on a face-to-face basis, but I do know
of him.”

Maritza had yet to place the proximity of her
sister’s place with that of her new, wonderful lover, or why Erica
knew the man’s name if she had never met him. “Well then, this is
the perfect opportunity to become acquainted with your
neighbor.”

Erica could hardly say no. She had no excuse
to beg off. Besides, hadn’t she been burning up with curiosity to
find out more about her upstairs neighbor anyway? So, this playboy
virtuoso of the bedroom— this
jugador de la cama
, this
hombre parrandero
—was now boinking her sister. What did it
really matter to her?

“Tomorrow,” Maritza continued, “at Blossoms Bistro
for Sunday brunch. How about eleven-thirty?”

“Sure, yeah,” Erica answered, distracted. She decided
to bring up the subject. “Mari, last night…did you get a glimpse at
the guy from the bar? I mean, the one who sent us over the
pitcher?”

“No, not really,” Maritza reflected. “By the
time I looked over there, all I saw was a shadow, and then he upped
and left. At least I think it was our beer man. Why?”

“Oh, no reason really. Just wondering.”

* * *

The minute she walked over to the patio and
spotted the man sitting with her sister, Erica immediately
recognized him as the dark man from the bar. Her instincts had been
right on. Scrambling behind a pink oleander bush, she adjusted the
bodice of her cream silk sarong with shaky hands.

Giancarlo Sloan! He looked a bit different in
the daylight, but the clothing remained dark and subtle, and his
handsome face and muscular build seemed unmistakable. Today he wore
a pleated charcoal shirt and blackberry cords; and with his sleeves
rolled up, Sloan could show off his lean muscles and the dark silky
hair along his arms. A flash of gold caught her attention, and she
noticed the filigree chain corded around his neck.

Maritza, of course, looked lovely in a gingham
sundress of mint green to compliment her eyes. Her dark gold hair
played around her shoulders like fine gossamer waves. In
comparison, Erica felt like a poor relation, her hair up-swept in a
loose but careless chignon and her makeup hastily applied. She had
almost overslept as her body tried to recoup some lost sleep.
Plastering on a friendly smile, she felt her earlobes to make sure
Mari’s earrings were still there and then moved forward.

“
Hola,
Eriqueta, mi querida!
”
Maritza rose when she spotted her sister. “Come on over and take a
seat! This is Giancarlo Sloan, or Gianni.”

Rising as well, Mari’s new man in her life
extended a welcoming hand. When Erica touched his flesh, she
registered the cool, smooth feel of his skin. When their gaze
finally met, she tried to see if a flicker of recognition passed
over those cool, dusky eyes. Nothing
, nada
. Erica took a
seat at the round patio table.

“Your sister was telling me a few tidbits
about you,” Gianni Sloan began with a show of even white teeth.
“She sings your praises as an interior designer. I’ll have to say,
I’m quite impressed.”

Erica picked up her menu. “Well, my sister
always likes to point out other people’s good qualities. Of course,
we should be complimenting Mari on her new career.”

The man shifted in his seat and flicked his
penetrating gaze to Maritza. “Yes, Mari told me all about her new
job. I think it’s quite exciting.” Reaching over, he took Mari’s
hand and squeezed lightly, then returned his attention back to
Erica. “So, Erica, how long have you been with Prestige
Designs?”

“
Prestige by Design
,” she emphasized.
“Almost seven years.” When their waiter appeared at their table,
she gladly gave her drink order.

“I bet you’ve decorated some very expensive
and fantastic homes. Any celebrities?” Gianni Sloan gave Erica
another expressive smile while the little diamond stud in his ear
winked back at her. She caught a whiff of something fragrant and
potent, and soon realized it had to be the man’s piquant cologne
instead of the nearby honeysuckles or the tantalizing scent of
food.

“I’m like a doctor,” she answered, “bound ethically
to keep my clientele list private.”

With her eyes quickly averted to her menu,
Erica revealed a few of the multi-million homes she had decorated
without naming names, including the different looks each client
wanted for their homes. She felt relieved when the waiter returned
with her iced tea and his pad poised for their orders. Had she been
blushing? Erica hoped not, though she felt as if on fire.

“I think I’ll go for the salmon crepes
special,” Maritza proclaimed happily.