Nacho Figueras Presents (6 page)

She broke the kiss with a gasp and stared up at him, her eyes burning with equal parts righteous anger and desire. “Did you feel that?”

He stared back. “
Sí
.”

She nodded. “And did you ever feel that with Agustina? Have you ever felt anything like that with anyone before?”

He looked at her. “No,” he said roughly.

“Exactly,” she whispered.

And she kissed him again.

N
oni woke the next morning to a note on her pillow:

She smiled to herself and rolled over in bed, stretching extravagantly. She felt a delicious soreness all through her body. After she had thoroughly kissed Enzo last night, demanding that he acknowledge what was between them, he had swept her into his arms, carried her back to her bed, and made love to her again for hours. It had been almost hallucinogenic in its intensity. He had teased out reactions from her that she didn't even realize she was capable of.

She got out of bed, slipped on her robe, and headed down the hall into the kitchen. Maybe she only had a six-pack of beer and an ancient jar of dill pickles in her fridge, but she knew that she most definitely had a bag of coffee beans in her freezer and figured the least she could do was make a fresh pot before Enzo returned.

She froze as she entered her kitchen, looking around, confused. It was…clean. Immaculate, actually. Every surface sparkling in a way that it hadn't since she had first moved into the place.

She sniffed. Lemon cleanser and—yes, there it was—coffee. A full pot, already waiting for her.

She poured herself a cup and wandered into the living room, bemused to find that it had also been made spotless. She looked into her bathroom and office and was mortified to see that it looked like a professional maid had swept through.

“What time did he even get up?” she muttered to herself as she gazed at the neatly stacked papers and mail on her dining room table. It had been months since she'd seen some of the surfaces he had unearthed and then apparently wiped down and dusted. The only room that hadn't been cleaned was her bedroom—and that was only, she assumed, because she had actually been sleeping in it.

She sank down at the table, distracted by a back issue of
Hoof Care and Lameness
magazine that she'd forgotten had come in the mail, when she heard her kitchen door open.

“Enzo?” she called, padding back into the kitchen.

He stood in the doorway, four bulging bags of groceries in his arms, her dogs trailing after him, panting happily.

She shot the animals an amused look. Traitors.

He put the bags down on the counter and grinned at her.

Damn, but he was good-looking.

“
Buenos días, mi corazón
,” he said as he started to unload the bags.

“That's a lot of food,” she observed. “Are we having guests?”

He shook his head. “I know it looks like I went a bit overboard, but you literally have nothing to eat in this house.”

Antonia raised an eyebrow. “I don't really cook.”

“Luckily, I do,” he said cheerfully, and tossed her what looked like a perfectly ripe peach.

She put it down on the counter and then, catching its sweet scent, changed her mind and picked it back up. She bit into it and the juice ran down her chin. Sputtering, she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand as Enzo laughed.

“Good, no?” he said. “I'm going to make you sour cream peach pancakes. How does that sound?”

She put the fruit back down. “Enzo,” she said, “you don't have to do all this.”

“All what?” he said as he lined up his ingredients and opened her cabinets, searching.

“Cook,” she said. “And clean. Especially not the cleaning.”

He turned back to her. “Antonia,” he said, “do you know how many years I have been waiting to get my hands on your house?”

She blinked, thinking of his small apartment above the Del Campo barn. She had never seen it anything less than immaculate.

“My place is not always
that
messy,” she said defensively. “I mean, maybe I'm not compulsive like you but—”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “It's always that messy,
querida
. You live like a teenager.”

“I'm busy,” she protested.

“You are,” he conceded, “but you're also lazy.” He took a mixing bowl down from the shelf. “At least when it comes to housekeeping. And believe me, that is fine. I know you have better things to do with your time. However, if I'm going to make you breakfast, I need a clean work space. Now, where can I find a whisk?”

“But you didn't have to clean my bathroom,” she grumbled.

He gave her the eye. “Oh yes. I did.”

He marched over to her and kissed her firmly on the mouth. “Now. The whisk?”

She laughed, giving up. “I don't have a whisk. Use a fork, you clean freak.”

They ate outside on her back porch, enjoying the unusually crisp breeze blowing up from the ocean. Enzo watched Antonia as she took a bite of pancake. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“Oh my God, you weren't kidding. These are amazing.”

He laughed. “
Gracias, niña
.”

She took another bite, a look of pure bliss on her face. “Actually, I think this is the first time anyone has ever made me pancakes.”

He blinked, surprised. “No. Really?”

“Really.”

What about your
mamá
?”

She snorted. “Definitely not.” She reached out and touched his hand. “It was worth the wait. Thank you.”

He smiled at her and raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “
De nada
,” he said. He tightened his grip, bringing her hand to his mouth again.

She met his eyes and laughed, snatching her hand away “Oh no. Don't you start again. I'm starving. I need to eat!” she protested.

He laughed, too. “All right. Fair enough. We'll eat first.”

He watched her clear her plate, dab daintily at her mouth with a napkin, and then lean back with her cup of coffee in her hands, sighing happily.

“What day are you leaving for the Hamptons?” she asked him.

“Next Monday. Same as the Del Campos.”

“Where are you staying this year?” she asked him.

“I took a studio in Hampton Bays. Nothing fancy, but it's close to the beach and not far from the farm if the traffic isn't bad. What about you? Did you rent that little cottage on Shelter Island again?”

She frowned. “No,” she said. “I called too late. Someone had already taken it.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Her face flushed as she shifted and looked away from him. “Actually, Alejandro offered to let me stay on the yacht. They're bringing it up to get a little work done, but the family will be staying at the main house in Southampton, so he thought I might as well take it.”

Enzo felt his smile twist bitterly. “Ah, the good ship
Pilar
, eh? How luxurious.”

She looked at him. “Don't,” she said. “Don't make it like that.”

“What?” he said, shrugging. “I'm sure all the best farriers stay on yachts, no?”

Her eyes glittered. “A day ago you would have laughed and told me to enjoy it. Nothing has changed.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

She sighed, exasperated. “Okay, some things have changed—but whether I'm staying on the Del Campo yacht or not shouldn't matter.”

He frowned and took a sip of his coffee, avoiding her eyes.

She touched his hand. “Listen. I have an idea. I have to go to New York City first. My mom has a show at a gallery in the East Village. Why don't you come with me?” She smiled at him. “We could make it a long weekend.”

He considered this. It had been a long time since he'd been to the city. The last time he had stayed had been years ago, at the Del Campos' expense, when they had asked him to go up and attend a seminar on some new breeding techniques for the ponies. They had booked him at the St. Regis Hotel, and he remembered his hushed, elegant suite, the deep marble bathtub. He felt a shiver run down his back, imagining Antonia stretched out, naked and beckoning, across the snowy white linens of one of those large and sumptuous beds…

“All right,
sí
,” he said. “But I will book the hotel, okay?”

A
ntonia clutched Enzo's arm as they stood outside the tiny, shabby gallery in the Bowery. She felt sick to her stomach. “This was a mistake,” she said. “You should have stayed at the hotel.”

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Of course not,” he said.

She shook her head. “My mother—” she began.

“I know all about your mother,” he reminded her.

“No. I mean, I know, but when I told you about her, you weren't my…I mean, whatever you are yet. You know?”

“
Sí
,” he said. “I understand, but surely we don't have to tell her anything yet if we're not ready.”

“She'll know,” Noni whispered. “She always knows. She'll smell it on us.” She turned to him. “Let's just go back to the hotel. I'll tell her I got sick. She'll understand. She's a total hypochondriac.”

He smiled at her. “Surely it won't be that bad. Come on now, just in and out. It will be over before you know it.”

She shook her head, defeated, as he opened the door for her. “You really have no idea what we're getting into.”

The space was small and crowded, with a mass of people milling around, drinking wine and examining the brightly colored, enormous canvases hung on the wall. Most of the people seemed close to Antonia's mother's age and were wearing head-to-toe black.

Noni scanned the room, looking for her mother. “I don't see her,” she said to Enzo. “Maybe we can leave early.”

“I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that, darling,” came a raspy voice from behind her.

Antonia turned to face her mother, who had come up behind her without them noticing.

Benny Black looked gorgeous, as always. She wore a long figure-skimming bright red dress, cut shockingly low in the front, her blond hair braided into an intricate crown on top of her head and beaded earrings so large and heavy that they almost grazed her shoulders.

“Mom,” said Noni, and gave her a hug.

While Noni was growing up, people would constantly remark upon the resemblance between herself and her mother, but Noni could never see it. Her mother was a thousand times more striking and glamorous, and, of course, she had those enormous turquoise eyes, something Benny always made a point of mentioning when people said they looked alike.

Except the eyes of course.
Noni has her father's eyes.

Her mother extracted herself from Noni's arms. “Darling,” she said, squinting at Enzo with interest, “you didn't tell me you were bringing your…?” She let the sentence dangle, waiting for Antonia to finish it.

“Friend,” said Noni with alacrity. “Mom, I told you about my friend Enzo Rivas, remember?”

Benny smiled her brightest smile. “Of course,” she said. “You're a groom, I think Noni said?”

“No, Mom, Enzo is the
piloto
,” said Antonia. She was already beginning to feel exasperated.

Benny's smile faltered. “
Piloto
? Now what is that again?”

“He trains the horses, Mom. He runs the barn. He manages just about everything for the Del Campos.”

“Oh,” said Benny, and her voice took on a knowing tone. “Oh well, that must be a difficult job. I mean, from everything Carlos used to tell me about Pilar—she was basically impossible to satisfy. I imagine any sons of hers would be the same, no?”

“Mom!” hissed Antonia.

Benny turned to her, all wide-eyed innocence. “What?” She smirked. “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. I didn't mean it that way.”

Enzo cleared his throat. “It is very nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Black.”

Benny turned her smile back on to Enzo and offered her hand. “Please, call me Benny.”

Enzo took her hand and nodded. “Your show is very impressive, Benny.”

“Well,” she returned, her voice full of false modesty, “it's not as good as it could have been. I just sort of slapped it together at the last second, to be honest.”

Noni fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Then I am even more dazzled,” said Enzo. “You are very talented.”

Benny leaned in closer. “Really,” she confided, “my time should be past. I expected by now that it would be Antonia having the shows and taking the art world by storm, you know?”

“Oh?” said Enzo, looking back at Noni.

This time she did roll her eyes. Her mother never gave up. “Except that I'm not an artist, Mom,” she said.

Benny made a little moue of exasperation. “Of course you are. You just haven't found your medium yet.”

“Actually, I really like what I do now.”

“Oh right,” said Benny, waving her hand, “I forgot that shoeing horses is now your calling.” She turned back to Enzo, shaking her head. “She obviously gets this from her father's side of the family.”

Enzo raised his eyebrows. “Noni is very, very good at what she does. One of the best I've ever seen.”

“Of course she's good at it—she's good at nearly everything she does, but that doesn't mean she should just settle, does it?”

Enzo's smile suddenly faded.

“Mom,” said Noni sharply, “cut it out. I'm not settling for anything.”

Benny shrugged and took Noni by the arm, pulling her forward into the crowd. “Anyway, darling, I have a surprise for you. Come with me.” She looked back at Enzo. “You don't mind, do you? I just have to borrow her for one teeny moment.”

“Be my guest,” said Enzo.

“Mom,” protested Antonia as Benny dragged her through the crowd, “what are you doing?”

Benny squeezed her arm tighter. “Now, don't be mad at me, darling. He was in the city anyway, and we just happened to run into each other. And really, he has every right to be here.”

“What are you talking about? Who has—” She stopped midsentence, suddenly seeing whom her mother was towing her toward. Her mouth went dry, and she thought she might throw up.

Jacob.