PaintedPassion (10 page)

She slid under the warm, cascading water. She lathered a
washcloth. Thinking about him made her breasts tingle with longing. The man had
brought her to orgasm just by sucking them.

Sex with Louis had been a regular event, penciled on the
calendar because of their crazy schedules. They never had that
I-have-to-have-you-now rush. But damn if the idea of running from the shower to
tackle Carlos didn’t turn her on. What was it about him that made her ache to
have him all the time?

After showering, she applied her favorite lotion with its
subtle ginger scent. She pulled on a peach silk bra and matching bikini
panties. She wondered what he would do if he saw her now. Would he throw her
down on the bed or take her against the wall?

She walked into the studio. Picking up her sketchbook, she
flipped the pages to the sketch of a naked Carlos. She traced his body with her
fingers. This memento of him was nice, but painting him would be better. She’d
alter it a bit so it wouldn’t be a full-frontal. She set the sketchbook on a
table as the idea took root.

Back in the bedroom, she brushed her hair, leaving it
hanging below her shoulders in long layers. She selected a midnight-blue
cocktail dress, applied her makeup then slid a pair of silver high-heeled pumps
on her feet. After choosing a silver clutch from her closet, she headed
downstairs.

The house was quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling
fans. Carlos was nowhere to be seen. She peeked into the garage to discover his
Jeep still inside.

Why had she let things progress too far between them? His
scribbled note this morning before he left to shoot hoops was too caring, as if
they were a couple. And his comment about her being his? One night and he
assumed he owned her?

She could lie to herself and pretend it was because of the
way he cared for her after they discovered the destroyed painting. But she knew
in her heart when he shared his personal pain and allowed her a peek into his
past suffering, she’d fallen a tiny bit in love with him.

She gasped. No, not love. Damn it. All the amazing sex with
Carlos was clouding her thinking. She squared her shoulders. The kissing him,
touching him, taking him inside her. Her behavior was a betrayal of Louis and
what they had shared.

The perimeter alarm sounded a warning as a car entered the
driveway. Trella picked up her evening bag then smoothed a hand down the lace
dress.

She touched the doorknob.

“Trella?”

She glanced around. Carlos stood in the doorway of the
kitchen, dressed completely in black.

“Don’t look for me. I’ll be around, if you appear distracted,
you may alert Hector.” Detachment cooled his tone.

She nodded, unwilling to show him how his words affected
her.

“Be careful.” She flashed him a quick smile then slipped
through the door, making a show of locking it.

Her heels clicked against the concrete as she made her way
down the steps and to the waiting car.

Twenty minutes later, the driver slowed to a crawl in front
of a sprawling hillside home. Hector waited at the bottom step of the walkway.
Trella allowed him to help her from the car, and they made their way toward the
Mediterranean-style estate.

He introduced her to so many people she had no hope of
keeping anyone’s names straight. The idea she would have time to peruse his
house on her own was shot to hell. Hector kept her firmly attached at his side
as he welcomed his guests. He retrieved two glasses of champagne from the tray
of a passing waiter then handed one to her.

She clutched the stemware. “What are we celebrating?”

“The end to a successful negotiation.”

“What kind?” She took a sip, determined to keep an eye on
her glass.

“You’re full of questions, my beauty, but I want to know
about you. Tell me how you became interested in painting.”

Forcing her frustration aside at his verbal roadblock, she
blessed him with a bright yet fake smile. “I studied in the States and abroad.
Always knew I wanted a career in the arts.” Turning the tables on him, she
asked a question of her own. “What drew you to my work?”

He brushed her cheek with his lips then chuckled. “Your
passion. It makes me feel as if you’re painting for me alone.”

She peeked at him from under her lashes. “I should consider
using you as a subject.”

He shifted closer to her. “Would you?”

She squashed the immediate desire to increase the space
between their bodies. “Of course.”

He squeezed her hand. “Then it’s time I share a surprise
with you.”

He led her up the winding staircase to the second floor and
down a wide hallway that ended at a T. He veered to the right. As she passed
the expensive furnishings, she acknowledged he had a beautiful house.

He opened a pair of double doors. “This is my sanctuary.”

She stood in the doorway but didn’t follow him inside. “What
about your guests?”

He chuckled. “I like the way you think, but that’s not why I
invited you up here.”

She proceeded into the sitting room. “Why did—?”

On the walls hung frame after frame of her paintings,
ranging from those she’d completed in her early years to ones she’d finished
just before Louis died. An empty space interrupted the row of frames.

A cold chill settled over her, and her breathing grew
shallow as she moved closer to the apparent homage to her work. The frame she’d
received as a gift matched the others. She swallowed, praying she’d make it
safely back downstairs.

“Why do you own so many?” She whispered the question. She
identified the prints immediately but the majority of them were originals.

Standing behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders.
“Couldn’t help myself. I love the warm colors and your use of light and
contrast to change an everyday action into an amazing piece of art.”

He nuzzled her neck. His touch shattered the haze produced
from seeing his mini-gallery of her work. She took a step forward, hoping to
put some space between them. “I’m beyond flattered.”

Undeterred, he followed. He wrapped his arms around her
waist. The faint stirrings of an erection against her bottom made her stiffen.
He may not have brought her up there for sex, but it was definitely at the
forefront of his mind now.

She tried turning in his hold, but he thwarted any movement.

“I’m sure your guests are looking for you.”

A hand traveled to the front of her stomach then pressed
between her legs. “I want you, Trella.”

Revulsion rolled through her, and she fought to overcome the
initial urge to take the bastard down with a few kicks Louis had taught her. If
she injured him, she’d ruin any opportunity to gain info.

Think of something, quick.
She gripped his wrist.
With a sharp tug, she jerked his hand off her body then turned to face him. The
desire to plant her knee in his groin was strong. Despite her instinct to
injure him, she couldn’t forget his possible connection to Louis’ untimely
death. Trella blessed Hector with a wide smile. “We can return to this later,
but your re-election campaign is more important, and your guests are here for
you. We need you to remain in office.”

He walked away, drawing his hands over his hair. He cleared
his throat. “Forgive me, Trella. I didn’t mean to get carried away. I just…
You’re special.”

Relief coursed through her, weakening her legs. She nodded.

He straightened his tie then held out a hand to her. She
glided to his side and slid her hand in his. He closed the door behind them
before they descended the stairs in silence.

Hector led her through the throng of people, a slow process
given how many stopped to chat with him. Finally, he steered her through patio
doors and into a garden. The scent of the numerous plumerias growing adjacent
to the doors filled her nostrils as the warm evening air caressed her arms.

“What prompted you to become interested in politics?”

He steered her to a darkened corner shadowed by towering
oleanders. “My parents struggled when they first came here.” His mouth twisted
into a grimace. “They worked hard all their lives and died owning nothing. Not
me. Politics is a game, an illusion, if you will. I observed others, saw their
mistakes and avoided them. Every politician you meet is constantly looking at
the next rung on the ladder.”

So much for being a servant of the people
. “I
understand ambition, and I see nothing wrong with wanting to have a comfortable
life.”

He placed his hands at her waist, moving them upward to rest
beneath her breasts. “Stay with me tonight.”

Controlling a cringe at his audacity, she made a show of
sipping on her champagne. “What’s the rush? Waiting will make it much more
interesting.”

His hold tightened, and a distinctly unwelcome bulge brushed
against her thigh. “If you only knew the dreams I have for us. I have more than
enough to take care of you.”

His lowered his head. She had barely a second to prepare
herself before clammy lips vacuum-suctioned hers.

Despite her attempt to play it cool, Trella instinctively
balked at the intrusion. She wriggled against him, succeeding in wrenching her
mouth away before her tonsils came loose.

Undeterred, he transferred his attention to her neck. “Stay
with me, Trella.” He whispered the demand against her earlobe.

Her stomach rolled, but she swallowed the urge to be sick.
She hoped wherever Carlos was, he wasn’t watching. She put a hand against
Hector’s chest with gentle yet firm pressure. “You’re a handsome man, Hector.
Established. Knowledgeable. Exactly the type of man who holds my interest.” She
fought to keep her nails from digging into his chest.

He laved the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “We’re the
perfect match.”

She stiffened against the onslaught. “Your guests—”

“Let them wait,” he panted. “I’ve never met a woman who
aroused me so quickly.”

She smoothed strands of charcoal-colored hair away from his
face. She yearned to wipe the wetness from her mouth, chin and neck but knew
he’d take offense. “I’m flattered, but we should take it slowly. Build up the
anticipation so our first time together will be magical,” she whispered.

He trembled against her. “We could leave. I have a condo in
Lake Havasu. We could spend the night there.”

Has he lost his mind
? Trella forced what she hoped
was a warm smile to her face as she tucked her hand into his. She patted his
arm. “We can’t have your constituents believing Councilman Rodriguez is
anything except an upstanding man.”

* * * * *

Carlos stood in the shadows across the street, night vision
binoculars to his face as he watched people milling around and talking on the
patio and manicured grounds. He scanned the crowd, finally spotting Rodriguez
with an arm around Trella’s waist. He clenched his teeth. The desire to flatten
the man’s face with a right hook ripped through him.

The bastard kissed her. Carlos’ grip tightened on the field
glasses. His stomach burned, and he clenched his teeth as Rodriguez ground
himself against her. When she pushed Hector away, Carlos laughed in relief,
although the idiot continued to hold her too close.

Lowering his goggles, Carlos signaled Donovan. Three minutes
ticked by before Carlos was cleared to make his move.

He slipped onto the patio, keeping close to the shadows.
Donovan walked by, and Carlos followed his old partner through the kitchen
entrance and up the back staircase. Donovan indicated Rodriguez’s office with a
nod before continuing downstairs.

Carlos slipped into the office. He pulled on a pair of
gloves then went to work searching a lateral file cabinet but found nothing
useful. He crept to the desk. The right top drawer yielded a stack of papers.
He rifled through them, quickly categorizing them as unimportant. A bottom drawer
revealed an expandable file bearing the label “Properties”. He flipped through
the information dismissively until a familiar address jumped out at him.

He lifted the file from the drawer and flipped through
several pages before he found what he was looking for. He extracted the tiny
digital camera from his belt, snapped several photos, and then replaced the
file. A quick scan of a bookcase turned up a file of photos stuffed on top of a
row of dusty hardbacks. He opened the file. A quick perusal of the contents
brought a smile to his face. He snapped more photos.

Carlos replaced the file on the bookcase. He checked the
hallway then slipped from the house the same way he’d entered.

* * * * *

Trella marched beside Hector as they made their way through
the crowd. She’d been here an hour and had gleaned nothing. Carlos was right.
Attending this event was a fool’s errand.

“Trella!” A woman’s voice cut through her thoughts.

She glanced up, recognizing the lady she’d met in Francois’
gallery. What was her name? Something sweet. Oh, yes…she remembered. “Candy,
how are you?”

The woman enveloped Trella in a hug. Candy’s height
advantage put Trella’s face centimeters away from a generous perfumed cleavage.

Trella patted the woman on the back, removing herself
gingerly from the embrace. “Nice to see you again.”

Candy turned to Hector. “I had no idea you two knew each
other.”

“You could be talking to the future Mrs. Rodriguez.” He
tightened his hold on Trella’s hand.

Her lips thinned, but she didn’t refute his statement.
“Excuse me, but I need to powder my nose. Candy, you want to join me?” Perhaps
the effervescent woman would prove forthcoming with information.

“Don’t worry, Hector.” Candy grabbed Trella’s hand. “I’ll
take care of her.”

Trella followed Candy down a spacious hallway. Near the end,
she opened a door, revealing a bathroom twice the size of Trella’s master bath.
“Hector is crazy about you. He couldn’t stop watching you.”

In front of the lighted mirror, Trella opened her evening
bag. “I didn’t notice.”

Candy laughed. “Watch your back. There are women here
tonight who’d kill to be in your place.”

She shivered at the woman’s choice of words. “So, um, what
are we celebrating?”

Candy appeared shocked. “He didn’t tell you?”

Trella blotted her nose with a tissue. “He tried, but then
we…you know.” She decided to throw in a bit of salaciousness since it appeared
Candy thrived on gossip.

“Wait ‘til I tell my husband,” Candy said gleefully. “You
two are perfect for each other.”

“We’re taking things slowly, at least until after the
election.”

Candy opened her evening bag and proceeded to replenish her
cherry-red lipstick. She smacked her lips then smiled at her reflection. “I
guess Hector didn’t want to blow his own horn by telling you the purpose of
tonight’s party. We’re celebrating Hector’s success in helping immigrants. His
IWP is gaining ground with the state legislature.”

Trella turned to face Candy. “I’m impressed. Not many
people—let alone public servants—are interested in dealing with such a
hot-button issue as immigration.”

Candy nodded. “I understand wanting to better one’s
situation. I married my husband for that exact reason.” She laughed. “Seriously
though, if it weren’t for Hector, those same people risking everything to cross
into the United States would fall prey to border patrol and renegade cowboys
intent on keeping the borders closed.”

Trella rummaged in her bag for her lip gloss, eager to keep
the woman talking. “How does the program work, exactly?”

“From what I’ve heard my husband say, Hector finds jobs for
them, helps with government paperwork.” Candy shrugged. “He basically
fast-tracks their citizenship. Every border state should take Hector’s program
as a model.”

Candy’s explanation didn’t sound out of the ordinary at all.
What could have piqued Louis’ interest? Or maybe Candy just didn’t know enough
about the program.

“How does Hector find the immigrants?”

Linking her arm with Trella’s, Candy gently ushered her
toward the door. “It’s the other way around, darling. Those who want to come
here to better their condition find Hector.” Outside, she hugged Trella again.
“Claim your man. Cats are circling.”

Candy slinked off, leaving Trella to return to where she’d
last left Hector. She scanned the massive room, but he was nowhere to be found.
Eager to take advantage of the opportunity to wander around without him, she
flitted from room to room, pretending great interest in Hector’s impressive art
collection.

She plucked a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s
tray. Flowing through the couples dotting the stairs, she worked her way to the
second story. On the landing, she paused, scanning the crowd below to see if
anyone noticed her. Depositing the barely touched glass on a table, she walked
slowly down the hallway, following the route she’d taken with Hector earlier.