“All right.” She knew when to admit defeat. She let him pull out her chair, and when he placed a firm, possessive hand on the small of her back and led her out of the brasserie, she went along with that too. The heat of his touch reached the very core of her and she let herself quietly enjoy the contact until they neared the entry to the fairgrounds. Only then did she turn to him again, this time to finally part ways.
“I—” She lifted her face at the same instant he lowered his, and quite suddenly their mouths were a mere breath away.
“One kiss at a brothel can be brushed off, Luz Alana” he warned as he brought her closer. “A second...”
His lips were so close, and she didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want him dragging reason into this moment. She wanted the kiss, burned for it. She wanted him to take her mouth like he had last night—rough and hot—and make herfeel. But the man would not budge.
He wanted her to ask.
“What happens after a second one?” Was that breathless, reedy voice hers?
He walked them into a corner hidden from view. He looked composed enough, his dark gray suit impeccable, but his eyes—they singed her.
“What happens is that I come back for a third one.” He pressed his lips to the spot right below her ear, mouthing the words against her skin. “And a fourth one.”
“Oh,” she squeaked as his teeth grazed against her, and still the blasted man would not kiss her. So she did the only sensible thing. She tugged on his very neatly tied four-in-hand and crashed her mouth against his. She smiled with satisfaction when he responded with a growl and lifted her against the wall of the alley. All she could do was hold on. The door to the Fourniers’ restaurant was mere feet away. Anyone could walk by and see, and she could not make herself care. She’d been nothing but sensible in these last two years; she’d been sensible her whole life. Always pressing on and doing what had to be done. The future of Caña Brava, of her family’s legacy, of Clarita were hers to secure. And that was an inescapable, absolute truth. Her responsibilities owned her, but this kiss, this moment was hers.
Kiss the wrong man for the right reasons.
Luz did. Tasting Evanston Sinclair was her reward. She was anchored to him. One of his hands firmly on her hip, the other clasped at the base of her neck as he plundered her. His tongue gliding against hers in a wicked, dark caress, and she responded in earnest.
The first time Luz had been tentative, shy, letting him guide her. Now she applied to her own exploration. She let her hands drift up until they met on the back of his head. It was like being locked with a warm wall of granite. His body was hard, but so alive. His massive thigh pushed between her legs, eliciting a gasp that she could barely recognize as her own. Every sound of hers seemed to spur him on, stoke the flames of his passion. She was suspended in this kiss, as if gravity herself had given up trying to keep the two of them tethered to the ground. She floated in his embrace, the only thing grounding her were those powerful hands and the rough scratch of his beard as he pressed his lips to hers again and again. Forcefully, possessively claiming. Like her mouth was his and he’d had enough of allowing her to think any different.
That first kiss at Le Bureau had been a soft breeze, but this...was a storm. He ravished her with drugging, urgent kisses.
“You,” Evan said, and he sounded dazed. Luz waited for him to finish, but he just shook his head, pinned her with that wild gaze and took her mouth again.
A door opened loudly, forcing them to pull apart, but Evan moved briskly so that she was completely shielded by him. His big body concealing her from prying eyes. She stiffened in his arms as her mind cleared and she realized just how openly she’d let the man take her. He must have noticed her distress, and he made a soothing sound and planted a soft kiss to her temple.
“We’ll go in a second,” he told her and pressed another ticklish kiss to her heated skin.
His hands drifted to her chest; when she looked down he was running his finger along the edge of her mother’s brooch.
“What stone is this? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s larimar. They’ve only found it in Hispaniola. I like to wear it because the colors remind of the Caribbean Sea.” Would she confess all her secrets to the man?
“It’s beautiful.” His voice was so soft, and his body so hard. She caught herself before she could start wishing for things she could not have.
“You don’t have to walk back with me,” she told him, suddenly needing to create some distance. Struggling to maintain control as she was pulled into waters that she could not possibly navigate. He shook his head, softly rubbing his thumb to her cheek.
“I will walk you back,” he declared, in a tone which allowed absolutely no room for discussion. And when he pulled on her hand and led her back to the fairgrounds, Luz wished with all her heart that this could be more than a stolen afternoon.
Nine
Twice now he’d kissed her while he was supposed to be assessing this business about the will and the distillery. It was madness, all of it. But now he knew he would make her the offer. An offer of marriage could be as beneficial for her as it was for him. An arrangement that would solve both their predicaments. He had not liked what she’d said regarding the trustee. It had taken an enormous amount of control not to pry for the blackguard’s name and send his lawyers after him. He’d seen women left destitute under circumstances like this and, heaven help him, he could not walk away from this. From her.
“I can see myself the rest of the way,” Luz Alana said as they neared the pavilion. Her soft voice dragged Evan out of the disorder that kiss had made of his mind.
“What are you doing this evening?” he asked her bluntly.
She frowned at the question. “I’m going to the soirée the Mexican delegation is hosting at their pavilion.” She gave him another one of those curious looks. “After I finish with Clarita, I will go to our town house to get ready.”
Evan was still considering a course of action when a choir of voices called Luz Alana’s name. They stopped just a few yards from the Dominican pavilion and almost ran into three women and a child. One he recognized from Le Bureau. Another looked a few years older than Luz Alana, and was holding the hand of a young girl. If Evan hadn’t known Luz Alana had a sister he would’ve guessed it on sight. She had her older sister’s nose and round cheeks and identical soulful brown eyes.
“Oof, Clarita,” Luz Alana cried as the child threw herself in her sister’s arms. “Have you had a nice day, sweetheart?” she asked, kissing the top of the girl’s head.
“We played in the fountain,” Clarita said excitedly, then pointed at the very wet hem of her skirts.
