Nobody's Perfect (9 page)

But he couldn't believe how much he had enjoyed having them both here.
Mine
. Family was the most important thing of all to him. If Savi thought he'd turn his back on his daughter, well, she had a lot more to learn about him.

Damián limped into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. His stump ached this morning. It had looked redder than Santa's suit when he'd been in the bathroom, but he'd be damned if he'd remove the prosthesis and show Savi what he'd become. Of course, if he ever did get anywhere with her, he'd have to reveal he was a cripple. He'd look pretty damned stupid if he refused to remove his pants in bed, and he couldn't get them off without first taking off the prosthesis.

"You should have Marc or Dr. McKenzie take a look at that foot."

Damián spilled coffee grounds on the countertop and turned to find Savi standing in the doorway.

"Nothing they can do." Determined to veer this conversation off in another direction ASAP, he went back to loading the coffeemaker. Marc should be here soon, but he hoped she wouldn't mention the foot to him. He hadn't told Marc she didn't know about the amputation yet.

Savi reached for a paper towel and began cleaning up the mess. Too bad she couldn't clean up the mess in both of their lives at the moment.

"Thank you for making this day so special for Mari."

Damián measured the grounds again. "No big deal."

"Yes it was. You helped keep the magic of Christmas alive for her another year. I just want you to know I appreciate it."

He turned back to her, noticing that her eye's bruising had faded to yellowish green. Almost healed. Anger that someone would hurt her seethed beneath the surface, but he regained control and picked up the conversation. "She's my daughter, too. That's what daddies do."

A flash of pain crossed her eyes, but she masked it and went to the cupboard to pull out two mugs. "How did you know about the Josefina books?"

"Teresa loved her at that age, too."

"Mari is fascinated by Hispanic history. She was always asking me about her heritage." Savi smiled, but her eyes remained so fucking sad. "Maybe you can fill me in on your family's background, so I can share that with her."

The coffeemaker hissed and gurgled to life. He reached for the coffee pot and filled her mug, as he told her a little about his grandparents who had immigrated from Mexico back in the Thirties. He'd never thought he'd carry on the Orlando name with children of his own. Sometime soon, he wanted to talk with Savi about having Marisol's name changed legally. He was proud to claim what was his.

No chance Savi would ever take his name.

"Have you thought about enrolling Marisol in the Catholic school here?"

"I can't afford it."

"The public schools are good, too, but she's so smart, she may even get a scholarship. Why don't we look into it after New Year's?"

If anyone had told him a few weeks ago that he'd be discussing where to send his daughter to school, he'd have told them they were seriously fucked up or smoking some funky weed.

"In case I haven't said it, I'm glad you're both here, Savi, even under the circumstances." In the short time they'd been here, they'd made his apartment into a home, rather than simply the place where he crashed after work. "I wish you could stay forever."

Savi's hand began to shake so badly, she sloshed coffee onto her chest. He grabbed the mug from her with one hand and placed it on the counter as he pulled her scalding-hot shirt away from her chest with the other. He reached for a paper towel, but waited for the liquid to cool before he let the fabric touch her skin again.

"Did it burn you?"

"Did what burn?"

The fucking hot coffee, that's what
. "The coffee you spilled on your shirt."

She looked down at his hands and Damián let go of her T-shirt. He dabbed at her chest to dry her off, his fingers pressing against her firm tits.
Fuck, yeah
. Too soon, she stepped back and took the towel from him.

"I'll do that."

His dick tried to rise to a full salute in his jeans, and he turned back to the counter to hide his body's response to touching her. He poured his own coffee and to refill her mug.

At the table, he decided to push for more intel. "Why were you wearing a wedding ring when I saw you at the clinic that day with Teresa?"

Savi turned her attention to him and her expression grew steely. He tried to ignore the fact that her nipples protruded against her wet T-shirt, large and inviting. He needed to control himself better.

"So that men wouldn't hit on me."

"Men like me?"

She shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. Fuck. The woman sure knew how to hurt a guy's ego.

"You haven't been in touch with the clinic, have you? I don't want you to leave any breadcrumbs."

"No, there's no reason to contact them."

"I know how much you cared about your clients, so it must have been hard for you to leave them behind."

"I was fired from my job." If she'd told him her best friend had just died, she couldn't have sounded much sadder.

"But you're so good at what you do."

"I got caught up in some…politics. The politicians won."

"Well, I'm sure you could get a job in social work here in Colorado."

"Not that simple. There's state licensing and…"

Realization dawned on him. "Your father's the politician who had you fired."

She glanced down at the table. "No, but he must have had something on the legislator who did. The clinic is funded almost entirely by state and federal grants. The director couldn't afford to lose that money and keep me."

Wanting to provide some comfort, he reached out his hand to her, but she backed away, then stood and took her mug to the sink.

"I told Mari to play with what she'd already opened until we got back. I'm sure she's dying to see what else Santa brought her."

She made her hasty retreat into the living room.

"You might flit from me now,
mi mariposa,
but you can't evade me forever."

* * *

Savi watched her daughter open another box, still not one of the gifts she'd placed under the tree after Mass last night. Mari would be so disappointed in the inexpensive presents Savi had gotten her, after all these beautiful new ones from Santa. Well, Santa Damián, anyway. At least hers would be seen as Santa gifts, too, albeit much simpler ones.

"Oh, Maman, look! My own Josefina doll!"

The reverent awe in her daughter's voice made it difficult to feel jealous over Damián's ability to buy her such nice things. Of course, Savi had a wrapped Josefina doll in her bedroom closet back home. Mari had wanted one since she was six, but money had always been tight and it wasn't until getting the job at the clinic last summer that Savi had had been able to splurge on something that extravagant. Savi had bought it too long ago to return it, though. She'd have to donate it to the annual toy drive at San Miguel's next year.

A chill ran down her spine. Where would they be next year? Clearly, she couldn't take Mari home as long as her father and Lyle posed a threat. If something happened to Mari—something even one iota like what her father had done to her all those years of captivity—Savi would die.

Sweat broke out on her forehead and her heart began racing. Time to face facts—her life had changed irrevocably. The bastard held too much power in southern California. She needed to think about starting over.
Here
. In Denver.

Mari picked up one of the packages from the thrift store. Savi held her breath, hoping her daughter would like it as much as the other gifts. When she ripped the paper open and found the black, plush animal, Mari's breath caught in her throat and her eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"A kitty!" She lifted the stuffed animal to her face and rubbed it against her cheek, as if it were a real kitten.

Savi cleared her throat and blinked a few times. Marisol had always had a fondness for kittens and cats. They couldn't have one at the house they rented, but Savi tried to provide her with inanimate ones whenever she could.

Toy ones can't die.

Savi pushed away the stray thought, instead choosing to remember the expression on Mari's face when they were at Marc's outfitter store the day after her visit to the clinic. Her little girl discovered the litter of kittens the store's manager had harbored when a pregnant cat had been abandoned outside the shop. He'd been surprised with four baby kittens a couple weeks before Thanksgiving. Luckily, the kittens were too young then to be separated from their mama, or Savi would have had a problem getting out of the store without one.

Placing the stuffed kitten on one side of her and Josefina on the other, Mari reached for another package from the thrift store. "A Hello Kitty purse!" Mari opened the clasp and started pulling out the dime-store trinkets Savi had stuffed inside. "Look, Maman! Purple nail polish! Can I paint your fingernails?" Mari loved to paint her maman's fingernails and Savi had bought the polish just for that purpose.

"Yes, you
may
—but let's wait 'til tonight." Of course, Savi would paint her daughter's nails, as well. It was one of the things they enjoyed doing when they vegged out on the sofa on Friday nights. She glanced over at Damián, who smiled back at her.

Why she'd been worried about her inexpensive gifts, she didn't know. Mari had always appreciated anything she'd been given, probably because she, too, remembered those early years when things hadn't been quite so good for Savi while she was in school and first starting to counsel clients. Or maybe because her daughter had been taught about gratitude. Savi had encouraged her to start a gratitude journal as soon as she was able to cut pictures out of magazines. Later she'd learned to use words along with pictures to show what she was grateful for each day.

Savi admitted feeling insecure these days. Her life had been turned upside down with no sign of righting itself anytime soon. Damián was right. She needed to see about enrolling Mari for classes here in Denver as soon as they got through the holiday break.

"Here, this is for you." Damián held out a long, black-velvet jewelry box to her with a tiny red bow on top.

Savi and Marisol had only baked and decorated cookies for him. They'd agreed no gifts for each other, only for Mari. "Why did you—?"

"Ulterior motives. Go on. Open it first, then I'll explain."

Opening the lid, she saw matching necklaces each with a delicate-looking, filigreed silver whistle hanging from the end of a thin, brown leather cord. There were several unique trinkets of silver, along with a few clear glass beads, dangling from the cord, as well.

She looked up at him. "They're beautiful, but why two?"

He grinned. "One for each of you. You can use the whistle to call for help. There's also a GPS chip in each one. I'm not taking any chance on losing either of you ever again."

His words held a double meaning, but she chose to think he meant the obvious. While her father was a threat, this would give them a little added protection, in case either or both of them needed to be tracked. "These had to have cost a fortune."

Damián shook his head. "
De nada
, and Marc added the chips for free."

She moved closer to Mari and placed the smaller necklace around her daughter's neck.

"Marisol, anytime you need Daddy to come, you just blow that whistle and I'll be there. You can use it anytime you're scared, too."

Mari put the whistle to her lips and blew. The shrill sound would certainly attract attention. What kind of man gave a GPS tracking necklace? He could have just given her the tracking devices. But the necklaces were beautiful pieces of art and the matching mother-daughter aspect made it an even more special gift.

She looked at Damián and wished she could convey her thanks in a more special way than merely saying the words, but she didn't want him to get the wrong idea if she hugged him or something.

"Thanks, Damián. They're very special. I want you to know I appreciate your taking care of us like this."

He shrugged. "That's what families are for."

Family.

A knock at the door made her jump, instantly putting her on full alert.

Damián stood up. "Now I wonder who that could be?" The theatrical way he asked made it perfectly obvious to Savi he knew exactly who it was. Still, he looked through the peephole before opening the door, reminding her he knew they weren't safe yet here, either.

The door swung open and there stood his friend, Marc, wearing a green elf's hat on his head that matched his eyes, and a big grin on his face. He looked perfectly ridiculous, but didn't seem to mind at all. Beside him was a beautiful Italian woman. Savi wasn't sure if she was his wife or just a girlfriend, but the way his arm was draped around her shoulder, almost possessively, told her they were in a close relationship.

"Merry Christmas!" they said in unison, then laughed.

Marc carried three large, long festively wrapped boxes under his other arm and the woman held a red box with a gold bow on top. She held the box out to Damián. Were there holes cut in the top? "We were on our way to Mama's in Aspen Corners, but we think Santa might have delivered these to the wrong address, so we thought we'd be Santa's elves and get them to you and Marisol first."

"
Feliz Navidad.
Come in," Damián said, stepping aside.

Marc's hand guided the woman to precede him out of the cold, then introduced Angelina to Savi. "We'll only intrude for a minute or two. Her mama likes to serve Christmas dinner promptly at noon, I hear, and the way she cooks and Angelina's brothers eat, well, we don't want to be late."

Angelina nudged him in the side. "Marc, all you think about is food."

"If you and your mama weren't such good cooks, maybe I'd have more time to think about something else." The look he gave Angelina made Savi uncomfortable.

"Oh, you have no trouble thinking about other things when you want to." The woman's eyes were filled with love when she looked up at him and Savi felt the electricity sparking between the two of them.