bannerbanner
For the Love of Sin
For the Love of Sin

Полная версия

For the Love of Sin

Язык: Английский
Добавлена:
Настройки чтения
Размер шрифта
Высота строк
Поля
На страницу:
2 из 3

“Yeah, I figured that out.”

“Well, if you screwed up, Lisa says Senada loves chocolate.” Brick lowered his voice.

“Personally, I’d recommend ducking. What do you think is wrong with her, anyway?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. Even if it kills me,” he muttered, then asked about the farm. After a couple of minutes, he finished his conversation and gazed around his new living quarters. A vast improvement over the hotel, the two-room garage apartment was still too small and hot, but it was clean. After sizing Troy up, his elderly landlord had given him a list of rules a mile long and required two months’ rent in advance. But as they say in real estate, location is everything. His present location was perfect for his purpose.

Before, his determination to solve the mystery of Sin had been a matter of his promise to his brother and sister-in-law. Now, male pride and a near self-destructive determination drove him. He pushed the curtains aside and looked out his window. Two doors down and across the street stood Senada’s house. He could just imagine her delight when she learned who her new neighbor was.

The finger prick still hurt, Senada thought as she tested her blood. She just wasn’t very good at sticking herself. She jotted down the date, time and results in the little notebook, then eyed the syringe warily.

“The needle is my friend,” she told herself.

“Liar,” she whispered back, and started to perspire. Her anxiety was strictly related to that damn needle, not her lack of insulin. She took a breath and grabbed a premoistened alcohol pad.

“Right thigh, today,” she said, wishing her voice had a more soothing effect on her nerves. She brushed the pad over her thigh, then poised the syringe over the same area.

“The needle is my friend.” Her overriding instinct was to close her eyes, but she’d learned it hurt worse when she missed her targeted area. “This is not my leg.” Denial worked for the millisecond she needed, and Senada plunged the syringe into her thigh.

She swore at the sharp sting. “That was most definitely my leg.” Her hands trembling, she tossed the used syringe away and stood. It should be easier now, she thought, glancing at her watch. But it wasn’t. She kept waiting for the day when she didn’t mind living by the clock, making sure she ate every four hours, testing her blood and giving her own injections of insulin. But Senada had always lived by her own clock and her own rules, so she was furious that her body had betrayed her.

There should be a rule somewhere that people who were afraid of needles didn’t develop insulin-dependent diabetes. There should be another rule that chocoholics didn’t develop diabetes. There should be, but there wasn’t.

As much as she would like to ignore the intrusion of her recent diagnosis, Senada couldn’t. She knew her mother had died of complications from diabetes. Either from ignorance or neglect, her mother hadn’t been conscientious about her health. Senada had inherited her mother’s height, her expressive brown eyes and thick, black hair. Unfortunately, she’d also inherited the diabetes.

The doctors assured her, however, that she could live a long, healthy life if she took care of herself. She’d been careless about that area in the past. Her idea of taking care of herself had been luxuriating in a bubble bath and sleeping until noon on her day off every now and then.

A healthy diet was a necessity now. A regular schedule was a given. She stretched her shoulders against the sudden sensation of being tied down. The needles and the lack of chocolate were tough to endure, but the most difficult for her so far was the loss of freedom.

She sighed and made a face at the mirror. After extensive negotiations with her dietician, they had found a way for her to have a chocolate dessert once a week. And tonight was the night for her devil’s food cupcake filled with chocolate cream.

Senada brushed her hair from her face and smiled wryly. Meat, vegetables and a small portion of grains first, but then the cupcake. “Better than sex,” she murmured in sweet anticipation.

Forty-five minutes later, she’d lit a candle, put soft music on to play in the background and had eaten her vegetables. She removed her empty plate from the table.

The moment had arrived. Her heart beat faster. Her mouth began to water. Taking a deep breath, she stripped off the cellophane wrapper. It had been over a month.

The doorbell rang.

Senada sighed, giving a backward glance toward the door. She contemplated quickly biting the top off of the cupcake, but was determined not to rush this rare, small pleasure. She left the table and pulled open the door to Troy Pendleton.

She tried to close it, but his big foot prevented her.

“C’mon, Sin, give me a break. I’m here to apologize.”

That gave her pause.

“Sort of,” he added.

She gave the door another push.

“I brought chocolates.”

She opened the door and stared. “Chocolates?”

He gave a slow grin as if he’d just shot two through a basketball hoop. It was a grin designed to get past a woman’s defenses. Other women, she thought, would find that grin appealing. “You mentioned an apology?” she prompted, noting the box of candy.

“Are you going to invite me in?” He looked past her.

No. “I’m a little busy right now. I—” She broke off when she spotted her neighbor, Mrs. Rodriguez, running toward them at a breakneck pace. Senada had met a few of her neighbors, but Mrs. Rodriguez had been the most welcoming. The effusive, nurturing woman had even brought her homemade bread.

“My husband! My husband! He is dead!” Then she tore into a flurry of Spanish.

Senada shared a look of alarm with Troy, and all three rushed to the Rodriguez’s house. At first glance, Mr. Rodriguez did look dead, sitting limply in his chair with his head propped back and his mouth open. But Troy quickly determined the man was breathing. In the back of her mind, she noticed and appreciated Troy’s quick, calm manner. While Senada comforted her neighbor and called for an ambulance, Troy located a bottle behind the chair.

Apparently, the man had mixed alcohol with his medication. He would need medical attention but would be okay. By the time the ambulance arrived, Mr. Rodriguez was awake but groggy. Senada and Troy left while Mrs. Rodriguez read her husband the riot act in Spanish.

“I appreciate your help,” she told him as he followed her inside her house. Her antipathy toward Troy had faded. How could she hate him when he’d allowed Mrs. Rodriguez to blubber all over him?

“For a minute there, I didn’t know who was going to need medical treatment more, Mrs. Rodriguez or her husband.”

Senada grinned. “She’s very emotional.” She glanced at the table. The candle was gutted and the music had stopped. The lone cupcake, however, remained.

She shook her head. “Well, this has been an exciting evening.”

Troy nodded. “Yeah, I’m starvin’.” He picked up her cupcake. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Senada watched in horror as he took a bite. “Wait!”

He paused, glancing at her, then the cupcake. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “A little stale, but nothing’s wrong with it.”

Senada bit back a whimper. She’d only bought one cupcake because she couldn’t stand the temptation of having several around the house.

Troy swallowed another bite. “I apologize about the conversation with Juan, but I had to get him off my back.” He didn’t like explaining himself but had concluded it was necessary if he didn’t want any more beer dumped on his head. “And this way, I figured I could get him to leave you alone too. Sort of kill two birds with one stone.” He took another bite and polished off the cupcake.

He glanced at Senada. She was wearing a strange expression. If he didn’t know better, he would swear she was going to cry. “Something wrong?”

She stared at the empty paper cupcake liner.

“Sin?”

Her gaze met his. “I want my cupcake back.”

Troy blinked. “Your cupcake?”

She nodded. “I want it back. I’ve waited over four weeks to eat that cupcake, and I want it back.”

“Four weeks,” he echoed. “It wasn’t that stale.”

“I want my cupcake.”

Troy shot her a wary glance. The woman was loony. She must be on some strange kind of diet that was affecting her brain, he thought, then assessed her curves with masculine appreciation. “You don’t need to be on a diet. Why don’t you eat some of the chocolate candy I brought you?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “Let me see them.”

Troy lifted the lid off the box and presented them to her.

Senada closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She looked as if she were having an erotic experience. “They smell wonderful,” she whispered.

The sensual expression on her face tugged at something inside him. Her whisper heated his skin. He pulled at his collar.

She carefully selected three pieces of candy and set them on a napkin in front of her. He expected her to put one whole piece in her mouth at a time. Instead, she took a small bite of the first chocolate and rolled it around in her mouth. He could practically imagine her tongue working over the morsel.

He watched her throat ripple when she swallowed.

“I know this makes no sense to you, but it’s been over a month since I’ve had chocolate, so I’m not reasonable about it.”

He watched her lick a chocolate buttercream center, and his gut tightened. He cleared his throat. “Lisa mentioned you have a, uh, weakness for chocolate.”

“She wasn’t lying.” Sin took another tiny bite and closed her eyes. “I can give up a lot of things, but this one’s tough.”

“Then why deprive yourself?” He was feeling a little deprived just watching her.

She shrugged. “Necessity.” She picked up the second piece. “And this has got to last a week.”

Troy watched, mesmerized, as she sucked the cherry from the center. His body grew warm at the sight of her pink tongue skimming over her lips. If her mouth did that to a little piece of chocolate, then what would she do to a man? He stifled a groan at the intimate image.

“You mind if I get some water?” he asked. When she absently shook her head, he headed for the refrigerator. Her attention was fixed on the chocolate with such intensity that he wondered if the rumors about her past lovers being carted off to the hospital were true. Troy pressed the cold glass to his forehead, then took a quick gulp.

Senada glanced up at him. “Could I have just a sip of that?”

“Sure.” He set the glass in front of her and watched her drink. He swallowed when she swallowed.

She gave him a wry smile. “Last one.”

Troy nodded. “You want me to light the candle for you?”

She sighed. “No.”

Her eyelids fluttered downward, and an insane idea struck him. He went with it even though he questioned the wisdom of it. “Well, you should do something special since it’s your last one for a week.”

She glanced up. “Think so?”

“Yeah.” He picked up the last chocolate. “You should let me feed it to you.”

Senada shook her head and shot him a skeptical glance. “Oh no.”

“Yeah, you should. It’ll be memorable.”

“No.” She reached for the chocolate, but he moved his hand.

“Yeah.”

“No,” she said more forcefully, reaching again.

Troy zigged. She zagged. And the truffle was smushed.

She looked at him in disgust. “You smashed my truffle.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You ate my cupcake.”

He nodded. “You want another one?”

“No, I want that one. That truffle.”

He lifted his fingers to her mouth. “Then take it.”

“I should get a knife,” she said, frowning at him.

“I don’t think I trust you with a knife,” he said, wary of the gleam in her gaze.

Senada rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’m not wasting that truffle.” She pulled his hand closer and looked at him again. “I hope you’re enjoying this.” Then she took her first lick.

Troy felt the sensation of her kitten-soft tongue in every erogenous zone of his body. It was a bizarre form of torture, watching Senada Calhoun lick chocolate from his fingers.

He never would have suspected his fingers were sensitive. He never would have suspected he could become completely and totally aroused by such a simple action of a woman’s mouth on his finger. Especially when that woman didn’t even like him. But her spicy scent combined with the bittersweet smell of chocolate and liquor made him take short, shallow breaths because he feared intoxication.

Her single-minded attention and overtly expressed pleasure made him sweat. Her exotic eyes were hooded as if she were overcome with desire. Her full lips pouted as if she’d been kissed and wanted more. When her tongue skimmed the inside of his middle finger, it was all he could do not to groan.

Still holding his hand, she gave him a considering glance. “You know, if I bit, it would really hurt.”

He met her gaze and tried to hide his arousal. “Maybe,” he conceded, not bothering to keep the dare from his voice.

She gave a double take and looked at him again. This time, Troy knew she was considering him sexually. Her dark eyelashes swept down, shielding her eyes the same way a filmy nightgown shielded a woman’s body. A gentle tease. He wondered if she knew how that affected a man. How it affected him.

She gently put his hand away from her. “That was a delicious truffle, even though you smashed it. Maybe even better than the cupcake,” she said with a slight, smoky smile. “And it was certainly memorable. Thank you for the chocolates.”

Standing, she gave a little shrug. “Guess you’d better head back to your hotel. You’ll want an early check-out so you can get back to Tennessee.”

Troy shook his head. He was going to kill his brothers for this detail. K-i-l-l them. He willed his body to forget what it was hoping for, then he stood. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already checked out of the hotel.”

Senada’s face lit up with delight. “Well, be sure to tell Lisa I said hello. I’ll give her a call sometime. I promise. I just have to settle some things here first and—”

“What kind of things?” he interjected, allowing her to lead him to the door.

She gave a vague gesture with her hand. “Oh, things.” She opened the door.

Troy slipped his arm around her waist and pointed to his new domicile. “You see that house down there.”

She glanced at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You see the garage apartment?”

Her eyes glinted with suspicion. “Yes.”

“If you need anything, day or night,” he told her, “I’ll be there.” He thought about kissing her, but based on her hostile expression, he thought she really might bite him this time. “Anytime, Sin. Night or day.”

Chapter Three

Senada’s dietician got a kick out of the chocolate cupcake story. In retrospect, Senada even found it amusing.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you laugh since you’ve been here,” Helen Waverly said.

“Maybe Troy Pendleton isn’t all bad.”

“Maybe not,” she murmured. “But he’s bad enough.” Her feelings about Troy were constantly changing. When he informed her that he lived two doors down from her, she could have cheerfully dumped another pitcher of beer on him. When he helped her with her neighbor, she’d almost liked him. And when he fed her the chocolate truffle, she’d felt a surprising shot of sexual attraction. Very surprising. Since her diagnosis she’d felt frozen, at least as far as her femininity was concerned.

Now she didn’t. Senada wasn’t sure she liked the source of the change.

“Have you called your father yet?” Helen asked.

“Not yet. I’m still trying to decide how to do it.”

Helen arched her eyebrow at the excuse but let it pass. “And have you thought about attending a meeting of the local support group?”

Senada shifted. “I’m thinking about that too.”

“You can’t stay in a holding pattern forever,” she said gently.

Senada nodded. “I know.” She deliberately changed the subject. “But about those chocolates?”

Helen rolled her eyes. “Put them in the freezer. They’ll last longer that way. One a day,” she said, lifting her index finger for emphasis, “with a meal.”

Senada smiled. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

They had a full house on Friday evening, and Senada was busier than ever. Several customers casually asked her about Troy. She acted as if she didn’t know what they were talking about, but the back of her neck prickled with irritation. In the short time that he’d been there, he’d made a place for himself. The men greeted him; the waitresses flirted with him. At this very moment, he was in the back because the cook had asked him to take a look at the ice maker.

“Here you go,” she said, placing two pitchers of beer and four frosty mugs on a table. She shot a quick glance at the men dressed in denims and sporting cowboy hats. “Welcome to Padre’s. Are you new to town? I haven’t seen you before.”

One man gave her a long considering look. “We’re from the Circle K. I’m Chris Grant, the foreman.”

Circle K. Her father’s ranch. The room began to swim. Senada blinked, then took a careful breath and smiled. “Bet that job keeps you busy. I hear it’s a pretty big operation.”

He shrugged. “Busy enough, but Calhoun lets me off to come into town every now and then. Maybe I could show you the spread sometime. What’s your name?”

Senada paused. She considered conjuring up an alias and immediately felt impatient with her cowardice. So what if her father learned she was there. Maybe it was time. “Senada,” she said, and gave the group of men a half grin as she left. “If you need anything, yell.”

Her mind spinning, she slapped the door to the back room so hard, it hit the wall as she rushed through it.

Straight into Troy.

“Whoa!” He grabbed her shoulders.

“Sorry,” she muttered, still shaken.

He frowned, studying her. “What’s wrong? You look like somebody hit you.”

“Nobody hit me,” she told him. “Not really.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Hit on you?”

The tray she held separated her chest from his, but his hands felt warm and reassuring. His gaze was strong but gentle, and the combination sent a tumbling sensation in her stomach. For a moment, she considered dropping the tray and putting her arms around him.

She shook her head and immediately backed away. Where did that thought come from? She rolled her eyes. “They all order beer, and they all hit on me. It’s part of the program.” She looked past him. “What have you done to my ice maker?”

“Fixed it.” He pushed her hair behind one shoulder. “How are you gonna compensate me?”

He touched her as if it were no big deal, and it shouldn’t have been, but Senada felt her heart race. She swallowed an oath. Maybe she needed to check her blood sugar. “Your beer’s on the house. I’ll even throw in a burger if you want.”

“You’re all heart,” he said wryly.

“That’s me, sweet as—”

“—Tabasco sauce.”

She flicked her gaze back up to him. “Go home.”

He gave a slow, terrible, wicked grin and leaned close to her. “Not until I get what I came for.”

“Troy,” she said, throwing his innuendo right back, “you wouldn’t know what to do with it once you got it.”

Troy’s eyes lit with challenge, and he leaned dangerously close.

“You little thief!” The cook’s voice rang out. “What are you doing with those hamburgers? Six of them. I oughta—”

Senada broke away and rounded the corner to find a little boy, terrified and defiant, holding burgers in his hands. “It was only five! Pig!” he yelled back at the cook. “You’re a stupid pig!”

Pete’s face turned purple. “Why, you little—”

Senada’s heart twisted. “Hold on, Pete,” she said to the cook, then quickly assessed the boy. His clothes were worn, his cheek was smeared with dirt and he wasn’t wearing any shoes. “Are you hungry?”

The boy jutted out his chin. “So what if I am?”

She walked closer. “For starters, you could ask before taking the burgers. How old are you, anyway?”

“Twelve.”

“More like nine,” Troy muttered from behind her. “You gonna eat all those yourself?”

The kid looked at Troy warily, clearly intimidated by his size. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

Troy shrugged and leaned against the counter. “Nothing. Go ahead. I’d just hate to see you get sick.”

“Sick?”

“Five burgers is a lot to eat.”

“It was six,” Pete insisted. “Six of my burgers.”

“I’ll cover it,” Senada said, finding the situation disturbing. “You can cook some more.” Pete grumbled as he made his way to the refrigerator.

“I wasn’t gonna eat them all,” the boy said.

Troy nodded. “You got a name?”

“Rocky.”

“You got a family?”

Rocky’s brown eyes glittered with defiance again. “Yeah. So what?”

“Where do you live?”

The boy made a quick dash for the door, but Troy was quicker. He caught the boy by the arm.

“Lemme go!”

“Where do you live?”

Rocky glared at Troy. “We ain’t got no house. It’s my mom, my sister and me. My dad’s in jail. My mom cleans rooms at the hotel, and we ain’t got no house.”

It hit Senada hard. She couldn’t exactly say why. Maybe she was still reeling from meeting someone from her father’s ranch. Maybe Helen’s words about how she should get involved with other people had finally taken hold. Either way, Senada felt as if someone had hit her in the stomach. Wake up. Things could be worse. There are other people in this world in far worse circumstances than yours.

Her eyes met Troy’s, and the steadiness of his gaze calmed her. She cleared her throat. “You didn’t say where you live,” she finally said very quietly.

Rocky lifted his thin shoulders. “For the last two weeks we’ve slept in a warehouse.”

Troy took a deep breath. He knew what he was going to have to do. “How would you like a real roof over your head for a change?”

“I don’t want social services.”

Troy gave a wry laugh. “Do I look like social services? I have access to a two-bedroom garage apartment. You think your mom would like that?”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, well, how about I walk with you to your mom’s, and we can ask her.”

“Can I keep the burgers?”

Senada blinked, spurred into action. “Yes. Just a minute, and I’ll give you some soda.” She filled some cups, gave them to Troy. “And here are some nachos. If you want more,” she told Rocky, “let me know, and I’ll get them for you. Okay?”

“Okay,” the boy said in a surprised voice. “Thanks.”

Senada looked at Troy curiously. “This sounds like your apartment. You’re ready to go back to Tennessee?”

Troy wasn’t certain he heard hope or disappointment in her voice. “No chance, Sin. I’m headed back to that crappy hotel.” No AC. No fan. Stifling a groan, he paused. “Unless you’d like to show a little compassion and hospitality and let me stay with—”

“Sorry, no,” she managed quicker than lightning, but Troy would have sworn she found it tough to refuse him.

He chuckled. The woman was begging him to leave at every turn. Her eyes, however, seemed to be begging for something else. He was obviously suffering from delusions. “Had to try. I’ll see ya later, Sin. Lisa sent some baby pictures and told me to show them to you.”

All wide eyes and tousled hair, she clasped her hands tightly together. “Okay.”

Troy narrowed his eyes. She’d looked upset earlier, and she didn’t look any happier now.

Knowing she couldn’t care less about his sleeping arrangements, he deliberately misunderstood her concern. “Hey,” he said, chucking her gently under the chin, “don’t worry about me. It’s a terrible motel and there’s no air conditioner and I’m lonely, but I’ll be okay.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted at his hand. “You know, it’s almost what you deserve. Are you sure you don’t have a split personality? It amazes me how a complete jerk could do something so, so—” she glanced at Rocky, then back at Troy “—nice.”

На страницу:
2 из 3