Like No One Else. Maureen Smith
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devastating scandal that had derailed her professional dancing career seven months ago. She’d never told anyone what had happened in New York. As close as she and her older sister had become in recent years, not even Frankie knew Tommie’s shameful secret. She certainly wasn’t about to bare her soul to Paulo Sanchez, a man who was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger to her.
Deciding to turn the tables on him, Tommie ventured casually, “What about you? What made you decide to leave San Antonio?”
Paulo shrugged, returning his attention to his food. “I wanted a change of scenery.”
Tommie’s eyes narrowed on his face. Just as before, she sensed that there was a story behind his vague response, and once again, her curiosity was aroused. But the sudden tension in Paulo’s broad shoulders and the hardening of his jaw warned her to back off.
So I’m not the only one with secrets.
Oddly comforted by the thought, Tommie said conversationally, “I guess moving to Houston wasn’t such a stretch for you. Frankie told me you have family here.”
Paulo nodded. “I used to visit them every summer when I was growing up. My cousin Rafe and I were thick as thieves.”
Tommie smiled whimsically. “Interesting analogy, considering you both grew up to become law enforcement officers. Guess you both decided it was nobler to play cops than robbers.”
Paulo smiled a little. “Never looked at it that way. Rafe always wanted to be an FBI agent. Me? I had a hard enough time just staying out of trouble.”
Tommie widened her eyes in exaggerated disbelief. “You? Getting into trouble? No way!”
Paulo chuckled. “Good thing I’m a changed man.”
Tommie snorted rudely. “Yeah, right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She gave him a knowing look. “Need I remind you of the compromising position I caught you in at my sister’s wedding, of all places?”
“Oh. That.” His mouth curved in a wolfish grin. “What can I say? Some people cry at weddings. I prefer to get laid.”
Tommie sputtered indignantly, “Sebastien is one of your best friends! You were a groomsman! Couldn’t you at least have waited until after the reception before you tended to your libido?”
Paulo’s grin widened. “Obviously not.”
Tommie shook her head in disgust. “Pig.”
He threw back his head and laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that did dangerous things to her heart rate. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, wishing for the umpteenth time that he didn’t have such a powerful effect on her. He was sexy as hell with his leather jacket, butt-hugging jeans, cocky swagger, and wickedly irreverent attitude. A man like Paulo Sanchez could only bring Tommie heartache, and that was the last thing she needed or wanted in her life.
Paulo draped his arm over the back of her stool and leaned close, his brown eyes glinting with mischief. “Come now, Tomasina,” he murmured, his voice a low, silky caress. “Are you objecting to what you caught me doing at your sister’s wedding, or the fact that I wasn’t doing it with you?”
Tommie stared at him, heat suffusing her cheeks. He knew. The arrogant bastard knew that she’d wanted him that day. He knew how humiliated she’d felt when she stumbled upon him with another woman.
Angrily she jerked her gaze away and snapped, “Don’t call me Tomasina.”
Paulo chuckled, a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he drew back from her. “My apologies,” he drawled. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with Mrs. Calhoun calling you Tomasina.”
She frowned. “That’s different.”
“How so?”
“Mrs. Calhoun is old school. She doesn’t like nicknames, especially masculine-sounding nicknames for females. And she reminds me a lot of my favorite grandmother, who passed away when I was seventeen.” Tommie shrugged, idly picking at her lasagna. “As far as I’m concerned, Mrs. Calhoun can call me whatever she wants. You, on the other hand, enjoy no such privilege.”
Paulo feigned a wounded look. “That really hurts my feelings.”
Tommie couldn’t help laughing. “You are so full of it! Which reminds me, you never did answer my question. What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “I came to see how you were doing. I wanted to see if you were settling in okay.”
“Just out of the clear blue?” Tommie’s voice was heavy with skepticism. “I’ve been in Houston for seven months, Paulo. Why did you suddenly decide—” She broke off, her eyes narrowing suspiciously on his face. “Wait a minute. Did my sister ask you to check up on me?”
“No.”
“Liar!”
“What?”
“I know the only reason you’re here is that Frankie asked—no, begged—you to stop by.”
Paulo scowled. “First of all, no one begged me to do anything. And even if Frankie did ask me to check up on you, what would be so terrible about that? She’s your big sister, she’s supposed to worry about you.”
Tommie pounced. “I knew it! You did talk to her!” Incensed, she shot out of her chair, snatched her plate of half-eaten lasagna off the counter, and stalked over to the kitchen sink.
Behind her, Paulo said evenly, “I don’t understand why you’re so upset about—”
Tommie whirled around. “Ever since I left New York, Frankie and my parents have been nagging me about moving back home. Every time I talk to one of them on the phone, it’s the same thing. ‘Why do you want to live in Houston, Tommie?’ ‘Wouldn’t you rather be close to all your family and friends, Tommie?’” She shook her head in angry exasperation. “I know they mean well, but I don’t appreciate being treated like some teenage runaway who can’t handle the responsibility of being on my own. I’m thirty-three years old, damn it. I think I’ve already proved that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
When she’d ended her tirade, Paulo said nothing, staring at her with an unreadable expression. The longer he remained silent, the more Tommie wanted to kick herself for letting her emotions get the better of her. If she had been romantically interested in Paulo, bitching about her problems—when they hardly even knew each other—would have been a surefire way to send him running for the hills. Experience had taught her that nothing drove a man away faster than a woman with too much baggage.
Turning away, she busied herself with scraping the remnants of her lasagna off her plate and down the drain. With the faucet running and the garbage disposal grinding noisily, she didn’t hear Paulo approaching until he appeared beside her at the counter, placing his empty plate into the sink. Tommie tensed as he reached over, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently turning her head, forcing her to meet his dark, intent gaze.
“You may be thirty-three years old, querida,” he murmured, “but you still have a lot of growing up to do.” Before Tommie could open her mouth to protest, he laid a finger against her lips and shook his head slowly. “Just hear me out.”
Tommie glared mutinously at him.
“I come from a big family,” Paulo continued. “I have four siblings and more aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews than I can count. One thing I’ve learned over the years is that no matter what may have happened in the past or what you may accomplish in life, there’s nothing more important than family. Nothing. The next time your sister or your parents ask you about moving back home, don’t automatically assume they’re trying to keep a leash on you. Consider the possibility that they need you as much as you need them.” He paused, a hint of irony touching his mouth. “And if you think you don’t need them, think again.”
Tommie