Her worst enemy is the one man she can't resist.
Maria Martinez thought it was a dream come true when Ritchie Perez - a sweet and sexy guy she met volunteering at a soup kitchen - took her delinquent little brother Joey under his wing. But her drea...
Someone just shoot me. Maria groaned and rolled over, tangling herself further in the blanket. Her head was pounding and she felt mildly queasy. She'd had too much wine to drink, that much she remembered. She had a sudden vision of herself rolling on top of Ritchie on the chaise by the pool. Grabbing him. Kissing him.
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Oh God. Had she...No. That she would have remembered. But how had she ended up here, in bed? Wait, they'd been rolling around on the chaise, and then the next thing she remembered, Ritchie had picked her up and said...Wow. She must have passed out. If she hadn't, she would have made even more of a fool of herself, whereas Ritchie had been the perfect gentleman and just tucked her into bed. She felt her cheeks flush at the memory, partly from embarrassment but – if she was honest with herself – just as much from the memory of what his hands had felt like on her skin, the way her body had felt pressed against his.
Maria took a long shower and took her time getting dressed, putting off the moment when she'd have to face him. Hoping maybe he'd gone into the office. It was Saturday, and she wasn't scheduled at the restaurant. She was working at the gallery later this afternoon, and Joey wouldn't be back until much later.
She could smell the coffee as soon as she started down the stairs. She took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen. And there he was, learning against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in one hand and an unreadable look on his face.
"How do you feel?"
How about really, really embarrassed. She looked for any hint of condescension, but the question seemed sincere.
"I'm okay," she said cautiously.
"Hungry?"
"Do you cook?"
"I'm a man of many talents," he said.
After last night, she had to agree.
"You want an omelet?"
Her stomach wasn't quite ready for that. "Just some toast. And coffee," she added, walking over to the counter to pour herself some. "But go ahead and make whatever you want."
"I've been up awhile. I ate."
"Ok."
Richie cut two thick slices from a loaf of Italian bread and dropped them in the toaster while she stood there, sipping her coffee.
The small talk had been bad enough, but the silence was making her nuts. Should she apologize for practically jumping him last night? Well, it's not like he put up any resistance. In fact, if she hadn't had so much wine, he wouldn't have put her to bed – he'd have gone to bed with her. Or maybe made love with her right there by the pool. Her body tingled at the thought. Of course, if she hadn't had so much wine, she never would have rolled on top of him and kissed him and...
She jumped when the toast popped, and he looked over at her and grinned.
"Something on your mind?" He had just enough of a smug look on his face to make all thoughts of an apology for her behavior fly right out the window.
