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“About this long.” He covered her hand with his, took a deep breath and rolled on the condom. He pulled her thong aside and guided himself into her.

She rose up on her tiptoes to take him deep and twisted on her way down to his lap. She rocked, but he held her waist to hold her still. His silver eyes had a smoldering glint, and she was always eager to play. She clenched her inner muscles to demand more.

“That isn’t fair.”

“Of course it is,” she argued with another fluttering squeeze demanding he thrust.

He raised a hand to the back of her head and silenced her with a fevered kiss. She clung to his shoulders, rocking so he’d have to dive deep, and when he slid his hand between them to thumb her clit, she pulled him into a searing climax that melded their very souls. Locked in his arms, shivers of pleasure surged to her toes and the delicious sensation faded so slowly she floated in his embrace, completely and utterly sated.

In a lazy mood, she slid her fingers through the soft curls brushing his nape. He hadn’t used the word love, and she wouldn’t speak it first, but this was how it felt to be loved until she couldn’t ask for more.

Friday, Alejandro had class work he couldn’t avoid, and Ana didn’t see him again until Saturday afternoon when he picked her up for Jaime’s memorial service. He wore a whiskey-brown suit and striped tie, and she’d chosen a dark green wrap dress with a hemline brushing her knees. “We look appropriately sedate, don’t we?” she greeted him.

“We do. I’m not fond of memorials, but I want to go to this one. There will be people weeping, but no one will confess to killing Jaime the way they’d do in the movies. Still, I’d like to see how everyone behaves.”

“I’m curious too. Lieutenant Montoya will be there. Let’s do whatever we can to avoid him.”

“Gladly.”

Gian Carlo had given them Galen Salazar’s address, and Ana had left a message for the designer to let him know they’d be coming. When they arrived, Galen’s wife, Lena, met them at the door. She wore a black sheath with a lace collar and had pulled her dark brown hair into such a tight bun she’d raised her eyebrows into a permanently surprised arch.

Ana gave her name and Alejandro’s. Lena swept her with a critical glance and waved them on into the house without any effort to make them feel welcome. He whispered in Ana’s ear, “Was she close to Jaime?”

“I’ve no idea who is close to whom anymore.” There was a memorial book where guests signed their names, and they had to begin a new page to add theirs. There were folding chairs on the patio. They took two in the last row. Valeria waved from a seat at the front, and Ana pointed out other people she knew. Lourdes found a seat in the front. Ana was tempted to point her out to Alejandro and mention the Mallorca trip, but thought she better keep still. The seats were nearly filled when Gain Carlo dropped into the seat beside hers.

“I hope they get this over with quickly,” he leaned close to whisper.

Alejandro reached for Ana’s hand and laced his fingers in hers. She squeezed his hand and thought his effort to claim her was sweet rather than obnoxiously possessive. She watched Lieutenant Montoya move around the side of the patio. In a dark gray suit, he faded into the shadows near the wall. He appeared to be closely observing everyone wh

o’d come. He nodded when their glances met, but she quickly looked away.

A man sat down next to Gian Carlo who looked like a bodybuilder, and his chair groaned under his weight. Montoya must have noticed him. She hadn’t seen a blond man other than Gian Carlo, but thought she’d have a better chance to sight suspects when people were standing and talking later. No one had regarded her with an accusing stare, and she wondered who’d also been questioned by the police.

Galen’s sister, a beautiful young woman with long, dark curls, began the memorial singing a hymn with a haunting melody. She had a soaring soprano, and when Alejandro’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket, he looked horrified. He checked the number and, with a nod to Ana, carried the phone inside.

Another woman? Gian Carlo mouthed.

“Idiot,” Ana whispered back at him. It was none of her business who’d called him, but she began to worry when he didn’t quickly return. Friends were now going to the front to share their memories of Jaime. She wished she’d made a list of the jobs they’d done together to cite one. He’d always been easy to work with and professional, if she didn’t count his recent request for nude shots.

Alejandro came in quietly and retook his seat. “My father has had a stroke, and my stepmother is hysterical. Will you take Ana home, Gian Carlo?”

“I’ll be glad to.”

Ana grabbed Alejandro’s sleeve. “I want to go with you.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to meet Carlotta under these circumstances, and it might take several hours for the hospital to have the test results. My father argued about going there, so he can’t be that ill. I’ll call you when I can.”

She let him go without argument, but she was apparently more worried about his father than he was. Maybe his stepmother was an alarmist, and he didn’t expect anything the woman said to be accurate, but some people didn’t recover from a stroke. If Alejandro had to give up his dream of becoming an architect to oversee the Ortiz family’s shipping interests, she doubted anyone would be able to console him. Tears filled her eyes. She pulled a tissue from her purse to wipe them away.

“I didn’t realize you were so close to Jaime,” Gian Carlo murmured.

“We were dear friends,” she responded. When there was an opening for her to go up and speak, she praised Jaime’s talents as a photographer with sincere enthusiasm. Inspired by her remarks, Gian Carlo told about a shoot he recalled and how much Jaime’s respect for the models had meant to him.

“That was lovely,” Ana told him when he returned to his seat.

“I meant it,” he insisted.

A photographer who’d known Jaime from his war days told a frightening story of how they’d gotten cut off from the troops in Iraq and had to crawl back to camp after dark, certain they’d be mistaken for insurgents. All had ended well that night, but he missed Jaime’s friendship deeply.


Tags: Phoebe Conn Bullfighter's Daughter Erotic