Lessons From A Latin Lover. Anne McAllister
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“Hey!” she beamed, prepared to sweep Duncan into her arms.
“Hey yourself.” Joaquin was standing in the living room looking as if he’d never seen a woman in a towel before.
Molly wanted to drop through the floor. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, hot with embarrassment.
“Someone…you—” he clarified pointedly “—said ‘Come on in.’ So I did.”
“I didn’t mean you!”
“No? But then you must be in the habit of inviting unknown persons into your house while you cavort around in a state of undress,” he said.
“I thought you were Fiona and Duncan!”
“I’m not.”
“I can see that. Go outside.”
“I don’t think so.” He’d recovered from his astonishment and was eyeing her with considerable interest. It was making her even hotter.
“It’s rude to stare,” Molly said irritably.
A sudden grin slashed across his tanned face. “Not necessarily,” he said. “Not if I’m awestruck by your beauty.”
Molly snorted. “Pull the other leg while you’re at it.”
“Pull your leg?” He looked intrigued and moved toward her as if he were going to do just that.
Molly hopped back up on the steps. “Stop that! And don’t pretend you don’t know what it means. You know exactly what it means. You speak English perfectly. You even sound like a Texan sometimes.”
“My mother’s influence,” he agreed, still eyeing her, still moving closer.
Molly clutched the banister, refusing to allow herself to edge farther back up the stairs.
“Tell me,” He cocked his head and regarded her speculatively. “Have you ever greeted Carson in a towel?”
“Of course not!”
“Maybe you should. Solve all your problems.” His grin flashed.
Molly frowned. “Very funny. What are you doing here? I suppose you’ve had second thoughts.”
“I certainly am now,” he murmured so softly she wasn’t sure she heard him.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” He cleared his throat and dragged his gaze from the length of her legs past the skimpy towel up to her face. “I came to invite you out for a drink.”
“What? A drink?” she said stupidly.
He nodded. “Will you come with me for a drink at the Grouper?”
“I already told you I was going to the Grouper,” she reminded him.
“Sí.” He smiled as if she were missing the point. “But now I am inviting you. For a lesson.” The smile took on a decidedly worrying aspect.
Molly swallowed. “I don’t know,” she said hastily.
“Do you want to seduce your man or not?”
“I already said I did! But I don’t see what inviting me out for a drink has to do with it.”
“No, you don’t. But then,” he said affably, “if you knew what you were doing you wouldn’t have asked me, would you, querida?”
Molly knew enough Spanish to know what querida meant. “Stop using endearments!” she snapped.
He made a tsking sound. “Ah, Molly. Are you perhaps the one who is having second thoughts?”
Heavy-lidded eyes so dark they were almost black bored into hers. There was an intensity in them she’d never seen in Carson’s. Or in any man’s, come to think of it.
Molly’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t look away. She pressed her lips together and shook her head fiercely. “No!”
He smiled, a supremely satisfied smile. “Then would you like to have a drink at the Grouper with me?” He paused a beat. A black eyebrow lifted as he waited. When she still couldn’t manage a word, her brain cells scattered like marbles, he prompted her. “Say ‘Yes, thank you, Joaquin.’ And smile. First lesson.”
Molly didn’t smile. She stood, grim-faced and desperate, wondering what she was getting herself into. She wanted to know what to do with Carson! She wanted a future with him and with little dark-haired blue-eyed babies. And yet somehow the old aphorism about the cure being worse than the disease kept running in circles around in her head.
“Molly?” Joaquin prompted. “It was your idea, no? If you don’t want to do it—”
“Yes! All right, damn it! I’ll have a drink with you.”
“Mm,” he murmured, a smile touching his lips. “And so very politely said.”
“Go soak your head,” Molly muttered.
But he didn’t go. He just waited patiently, watching her expectantly. For all she knew he’d stand there for the rest of the afternoon. He might still be there when Fiona and Duncan came. And she’d still be dripping in her towel.
“All right! Thank you,” she bit out. And she flashed him a fierce, insincere smile because if she didn’t do it, he’d probably wait for that, too.
“Well, it’s a start,” he allowed. “Next time, querida, combine the two—and mean it. Now, try it again.”
Again? “For heaven’s sakes!”
But, unfazed, he just smiled at her. Molly glared. He didn’t move. Damn the man. The sun would probably set and he would still be waiting.
“Oh, all right.” Molly bared her teeth in a semblance of a grin. “Thank you,” she said through it. “I’d like that.”
“See, I knew you could do it. And I can tell how completely thrilled you are,” he drawled sarcastically and screwed up his face in such an absolutely horrible expression that Molly burst out laughing.
And at the sight he nodded. “Ah, yes. Mucho mejor. Much better, querida. Like that. You have a beautiful smile. Truly. Now say, ‘Yes, thank you, Joaquin. I’d love to.”’
Molly tried to wipe the lingering smile off her face, but it wasn’t quite possible. That truly had sounded sincere. Did he mean it? Did he really think her smile was beautiful? Shaking her head in confusion, Molly repeated his words—all but his name. She couldn’t quite bring herself to say that.
Fortunately he didn’t insist. “Bravo,” he approved. “Very good. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”
“I can meet you there.”
Dark brows came down in a scowl. “No, you cannot meet me there. I am inviting you, Molly. I will escort you. This is not a negotiation. It’s a date.”
“But—”
“A date,” he said firmly.
“It’s a lesson,” she corrected him.
“A learning-by-doing lesson,” he retorted. “And now you say, ‘That would be very nice, thank you.”’
The battle of wills began again. Molly wondered how long she could make him just stand there waiting. Probably not as long as he could make her stand here wearing only a towel.
“That would be very nice. Thank you,” she grumbled, remembering to tack on a smile at the last second. And was annoyed to find she was pleased to see the swift grin of approval that replaced Joaquin’s frown.
“Bueno. I’ll see you at seven-thirty. Hasta entonces, Molly.”
“Um…hasta entonces,” Molly mumbled, then stood clutching her towel,