Yours In Black Lace

He shrugged. “That’s what the realtor called it.”

“Hiding from deranged drug-dealing stalkers won’t be so bad after all.”

Emelio pulled onto a parking pad beside one of the sandstone gateposts and shut off the engine. He took off his own sunglasses and gazed over at the house with a pensive expression for a moment. Then he climbed out of the Jeep and walked toward the cargo section. “I’ll get the groceries.”

Stevie opened her door and got out, as well. She took only a few steps before her heel twisted on the crushed shells and gravel. In an instant, Emelio was there, cupping her elbow to steady her. His large hands felt warm and strong, and she ached to feel them on her naked body. When their eyes met, she saw the awareness mirrored in his gaze.

Would he kiss her again? The memory of that first contact had been seared onto her lips. With little effort, she recalled the shock of desire and need, the feel of his hard, aroused body against hers. But even as she waited for a repeat experience, Emelio stepped back. Though a twinge of disappointment settled in her chest, she didn’t push. She was willing to bide her time and she’d bet he was worth waiting for.

She followed the driveway, carefully picking her way on the high-heeled sandals. He reached over to the gatepost and pushed one of the sandstone cobbles aside. When he punched in a sequence of numbers on the hidden security keypad, the tall iron gates slid silently apart.

“Wow. So this is Golden Eye.” When he glanced over with a curious expression, she explained. “Ian Fleming’s tropical hideaway. He wrote most of the Bond books there.”

Amusement lit the hazel depths of his eyes. Emelio lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “Wait until you see the secret laboratory of spy gadgets hidden in the cave under the dining room.”

Stevie laughed as they walked along the pathway leading to the front door. The courtyard was landscaped on either side with dark green palmetto, sweetly scented Indian blanket, graceful sword fern and lantana in shades of purple and violet. Alone in this fabulous house, miles and miles away from danger, she could let her attraction and his interest take the natural course. Mr. Calm, Cool and Controlled wouldn’t know what hit him.

A tendril of doubt curled in her belly, but she shoved it aside. She wasn’t Tom’s insecure and intimidated little wife anymore. That was all behind her. She’d found the courage to leave, the will to fight him for a divorce and the guts to move to a strange city and start her life over.

After that, confessing to Emelio that she’d written the letters would be a breeze.

When he shifted one of the grocery bags to his side, Stevie took it from him to hold. He flipped through the keys on his ring, and then fit one into each of the two locks on the front door.

“You just happen to have the keys already?”

“I stay here as often as I can.”

He stood aside to let her go past, her heels rapping against the terra-cotta tiles. Stevie looked around the simply decorated entrance foyer, noting that the house felt smaller than it had looked from the outside. A hallway stretched the length of the house to a back door, with arched entryways on either side that led to the rooms of the house.

Stevie set the bag down on the smoked-glass accent table in the foyer. She watched as Emelio swung the mirror above it open and fiddled with yet another security system. “What happens if you put in the wrong top-secret code?”

“Bambi and Thumper show up and beat the crap out of me.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Those cute little Disney animals?”

Emelio looked at her, sympathy coloring his tone. “You must be tired. Thumper and Bambi were the two bad girls who tried to kill Bond in Diamonds Are Forever.”

“Oh, yeah. I love that scene. They all end up wrestling in the swimming pool.” She cocked her head to one side and crossed her arms. “I think we got off the subject, though. Whose house is this really?”

His features darkened, closing off his expression. “It’s mine, Stevie.”

“But you told Alex we were going to—”

The words died in her throat and her arms dropped to her sides when she caught sight of the living room. Her eyes widened as she walked closer.

“Watch the step.” Emelio caught her elbow again before she tripped, then leaned one shoulder against the archway, both hands shoved into his front pockets.

She barely heard him, only vaguely noting the cathedral ceiling and large windows and that the room had the same stark modernist dеcor as his office back in Miami. Her gaze was focused on the Josе Castillo paintings displayed on every pale beige wall.

Stevie knew her art, having grown up with a collection that had been handed down through the generations. She especially knew Castillo’s work since he was her favorite modern painter. But she’d never seen any of these works in a book or gallery catalogue.

“These are originals, aren’t they? These paintings have never been shown outside of this house, have they?” Her voice rose with each question as she dashed from frame to frame to frame in disbelief. “These are your paintings!”

He answered in a monotone. “So now you know my secret.”

“But how—?”

“My full name is Emelio Josе Castillo Sanchez.”

She finally turned to look at him. A scowl twisted his full lips even as patches of color reddened his cheeks.

“Come on. After I put the groceries away, I’ll show you the house.”

Stevie dogged his footsteps into the large, sunny kitchen. “I can’t believe it. Emelio, you’re a wonderful artist, one of the most talented in the world. Why would you keep something like this to yourself?”

Emelio kept his back to her as he filled the refrigerator. “Everybody has secrets, don’t they, Stevie.”

“I told you mine back at my apartment.”

“Not all of them.”

Well, he had her there. But some things about her past were better left in the past. After throwing the grocery bag away, he crossed to the other side of the kitchen, not waiting to see if she followed, which, of course, she did.

“This is the Florida room.” He waved one arm to encompass a large tiled sunroom. Floor-to-ceiling glass offered a perfect view of the blue-green Gulf waves lapping against the powder-white sand. Despite the gorgeous panorama, she wasn’t about to be distracted.

“I admire those paintings in your office every time I come in, you’ve never said a word. When were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t. No one outside of my family knows except Alex and my agent. And now you. That’s the way I want it.” He unlocked the French doors and slid them open to access the glass-walled room that enclosed the swimming pool.

She followed him out to the lanai, stepping around one of the lounge chairs as she walked. “I still can’t believe you’re Josе Castillo. Your work is incredible! It’s provocative and passionate and yet you’re so…”

He stopped to glance over his shoulder, curiosity lacing his tone. “So what?”

“Well…inhibited.”

Emelio arched one raven-wing eyebrow, as if she’d insulted him, and for one brief instant his heated gaze stripped her bare. A jolt of electric awareness danced along her spine, hardening her nipples before settling between her thighs.

“Whoa. What was that look?”

“What look, Stevie?” When he shifted his weight to one leg and shoved his hands into his back pockets, the pistachio cotton of his shirt tightened across his broad shoulders.

“That look you just gave me.” Stevie ran her tongue over her lower lip and sashayed over to his side. Like a Bond babe going after classified documents, she felt the heat and turned it up fifty degrees. Tilting her head playfully, she reached out to draw one finger over the hard planes of his chest.

Strands of thick coffee hair fell over his forehead, luring her attention to the gleam of mischief and more that lit his eyes. The edge of his mouth curved and he lowered his voice to an intimate purr. “I was just wondering… When were you going to tell me you wrote the black-lace letters?”

Stevie gasped out a nervous laugh as her heart skittered to a halt, then pounded back to life. “Is that what you call them? I hadn’t figured out how to tell you. When did you know?”

“I saw the stationery in your living room.” He tipped his face down, his gaze focused on her mouth. “Like I said, we all have secrets.”