Anita Bunkley - First Class Seduction

Tomás Vidal wiped a tear from his eye and then looked at Ramón, who was seated beside him in the recreation room of the assisted living center. “What a wonderful thing to witness,” Tomás whispered in a quiet tone. “My boy is now a federal judge. Amazing, but not surprising. He worked hard to make it, you know? I remember when your mother and I left Mexico and came to Texas. Xavier was just a boy. And now he’s a big-shot judge. I only wish your mother could have lived to see this day.”

Ramón closed the DVD player they had been viewing, set it on the coffee table and looked at his father, his mind suddenly turning back to the days they had spent together deep-sea fishing in the Gulf. Setting out before dawn, looking forward to a day at sea and a huge catch to bring home had been wonderful. But those days were gone forever. Never again would he go fishing with his father, whose health was deteriorating very quickly. It pained Ramón to see Tomás Vidal withering into a shell of a man right before his eyes. His father’s thick black hair was now nearly all gray, his once bright eyes no longer shone with the gleam of life that Ramón remembered and the skin around his thin lips was more puckered with tiny wrinkles than Ramón had seen on his last visit. With each passing day, Ramón knew his time with his father was getting shorter, so he wanted to make each moment they spent together count. Bringing along the DVD of Xavier’s swearing-in ceremony had brightened Tomás’s day and given him much to discuss with his fellow residents at the assisted living center.

“Pop,” Ramón began. “I know Mom is up in Heaven watching us right now and she knows what’s going on.”

Tomás laughed and winked at his son. “She always knew what was going on with you two boys. Not much escaped her, you know?”

“For real,” Ramón replied. “She was on my case every day.”

“That’s why you and Xavier turned out to be such fine young men. Because your mother taught you how to appreciate what you have and how to make the most of the talent God gave you.”

“I’ve tried to make you proud, Pop.”

“And you have,” Tomás agreed, reaching out to take hold of Ramón’s hand. “But there is one thing I want you to do, Ramón. Time is moving on, son. You need to do what your brother has done. Get married and start a family so I can enjoy more grandchildren before I leave this world.”

Tilting his head back, Ramón let his father’s words sink in, realizing how true they were. He gave his father’s hand a firm squeeze, and said, “I’m working on that one, Pop. Just be patient, okay?”

When Ramón walked into Lori’s house, he did a double take and then smiled. The last time he’d seen her she had been dressed in her GAA uniform, looking spiffy and totally in charge. Now she was wearing black stretch pants, thong sandals and a skimpy white halter top that showed off smooth tan shoulders and a lot more cleavage than he had seen on the dance floor. She looked like a teenager with her hair, now freed from its neat French twist, falling loosely around her face in a soft cascade of jet-black curls that brushed cheeks devoid of makeup.

Lori propped her broom against the table in the foyer and grinned at Ramón, sending a jolt of pleasure straight into his gut.

“Hi,” she said, wiping her brow with the back of one hand. “You just called! Either you were already close by or you broke the speed limit getting here. Which is it?”

“I wasn’t that far away. Stopped to see my dad.”

“Really? Where does he live?”

“Old Mill Assisted Living Center.”

“Oh, yeah. Over on Huffman near Broad?”

“Right. After I left him, I headed straight here. And yes, I did keep an eye on my rearview mirror for any black and whites that might be on my tail,” he said with a wink, knowing he’d rolled through that last stop sign at the intersection leading to Lori’s street—after looking both ways, of course.

During the drive to her house, he’d thought of nothing but how shaky her voice had sounded on the phone, how anxious and panicky she must be. He was not about to leave her house until he had done all he could to make her feel safe. “Give that to me,” he told Lori, taking hold of the broom. “Go sit down and watch TV or something. Let me take over from here.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said forcefully, tugging on the broomstick, her eyes squinting in earnest. “Sweeping up glass, I can do. Fixing a trashed alarm? No. So you get busy with the alarm, while I clean up the rest of this glass.”

“You’ve got a deal. Show me where the control box is and leave it to me,” Ramón agreed.

“It’s in the garage. And it’s stifling hot out there. I can hook up a fan if you want.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Ramón commented, following Lori through the kitchen toward the door to the garage. However, walking behind her, what he really wanted was to place both palms on her sweet round hips, which were so deliciously encased in her black Capri pants. The sight was too beautiful for words. Sucking in a breath, he ripped his eyes away from her perfectly shaped rear end. The last thing he wanted was for Lori to turn around and see the growing bulge in his pants, though he knew there was no way to slow his growing desire to possess her completely.

Once Lori restored as much order to her trashed bedroom as possible, she stripped her bed of ruined linens, stuffed them in two heavy-duty trash bags and headed through the kitchen to the garage. There she paused in the doorway and drank in the delicious sight of Ramón, shirtless, standing in the garage with his back to her while removing the broken control box.

Lori’s heart did a jerky flip, sending pulses of heat between her legs and into the pit of her stomach. He looked so damn good with his longish black hair tied back with a red handkerchief and his smooth V-shaped torso glistening back at her. Lori ran her tongue over her bottom lip and gulped back the surprising surge of desire that rose within her. As she watched him twist wires and adjust levers, she realized that he was singing the song they had danced to in Club Azule. Was that a coincidence, or was he trying to send her some kind of a message?

Damn he’s hot! Why did he have to take off his shirt? Show me so much skin? Tempt me like this when the last thing I need is to get tangled up with a stranger?

“There’s a radio over there on that shelf,” she said casually, stepping into the garage.

Ramón’s head swiveled around in surprise. He flashed a killer smile at her, sending more pulses of heat through Lori, who drew in a short breath to cool down. After depositing the trash bags in the large rolling bin, she went over to the cluttered shelf, picked up a battered boom box and handed it to Ramón. “Here. Put it on any station you want. Then you won’t have to sing to yourself.”

Ramón reached out, as if to take the radio, but covered her hand with his instead. With an insistent tug, he guided her closer, slipped his hands beneath her arms and cupped her elbows with his palms. Only the small blue radio that Lori was holding prevented her body from molding flush to his. “No, thanks,” he replied in a husky tone. “I’d rather listen to my own singing…unless it rattles you.”

His remark slid over Lori like a layer of sweet syrup, easing through her veins to pool in her chest. He had a way of saying the most mundane things in the most sensual way, stirring up emotions that threatened Lori’s composure.

“Don’t worry. You could never rattle me, unless I allowed you to,” she countered, setting the radio down, shifting her hips to one side while eyeing Ramón with a dare of a gaze.

“Never?” he repeated. “You sound awfully sure about that.”