Page 21 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

The fearless new Esme from last night would have jumped him, but now she wrestled with old insecurities and a worry that she shouldn’t mix her professional life with her personal wants. What if, having let new Esme out for a wild night on the town, she could never subvert that bold part of her soul again?

“It’s always good to have a back-up, don’t you think? If we’re still thinking about slow, deep kisses every time we’re together by next week, we ought to figure out what we’re going to do about it.”

Her heart picked up rhythm at the words. Right now, she couldn’t picture ever looking at Renzo and not thinking about lingering, hungry kisses. As she stared at the strong column of his throat while he swallowed another sip of his wine, Esme imagined how he would taste right now.

She stifled the urge to lick her lips. “I can’t imagine what we would do. I have to admit it’s a bit of a distraction.”

A delicious distraction, but still…

“I vote if it gets too distracting, we just act on it.” He held out a grape to her, his hand hovering a few inches from her mouth.

Parting her lips for this man would be dangerous. She accepted his offering with her fingers, however, and tasted the grape on her tongue.

Renzo would have tasted better.

“Act on it?” Perhaps she needed to give the idea some thought. A woman couldn’t deny her urges forever, after all.

“Sure. Maybe if we just gave into the desire it would settle down again. Sort of a last ditch attempt to get it out of our systems.”

* * *

Renzo expectedher to call him on the carpet at any moment for his incendiary suggestion. And part of him longed for her to do just that. He’d always been a man of action, ready to take charge, make things happen. He wouldn’t mind getting all the chemistry between them out in the open.

But dinner passed, hours passed, and she hadn’t pointed a finger at him for making self-serving suggestions while she’d been slightly under the influence. They had set up a plan for working together, had agreed to maintain autonomy in their areas of expertise—-his in building, her in client contact-- and had made plans to draw up a formal contract with the help of a lawyer. But they hadn’t gotten back to the topic that intrigued him most of all. How would they handle the undeniable attraction that flared to life whenever they moved within fifty yards of one another?

Now, as he drove her back home to an apartment complex on Miami Beach, just north of the South Beach strip, he couldn’t dance around the heat between them anymore. The suspense was killing him.

Her vanilla scent teased his nose in the intimacy of the truck cab while the shoulder bared by her silky tank top loomed within reach if only he could reach out and touch her.

She’d been silent for so long, Renzo couldn’t take it another minute.

“You’re awfully quiet over there.” The subtle probe for information marked a first for him. He couldn’t remember ever having to ask a woman what she was thinking before. Either the women he’d been with had shared their thoughts or— much scarier— he hadn’t ever cared enough to solicit more information. “You having second thoughts about the business?”

About him.

“Just thinking.” She wrenched her gaze from whatever had preoccupied her out the window. She gave him one of those rusty Esme smiles before turning her attention back to the city lights winking on the intercoastal water as they crossed one of the causeways out to Miami Beach.

Thinking?

Never having been a patient person, Renzo gave up on subtlety.

“I guess I was wonderingwhatyou were thinking,” he clarified, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel in time to the jazz music drifting through the dashboard speakers. “In my family we talk while we’re thinking. And we talk while we’re disagreeing, while we’re negotiating, while we’re wheedling… There’s talking going on pretty much non-stop. I don’t know what to make of this quiet thinking business.”

Esme swiveled toward him, readjusting her seatbelt so she could tuck her feet up under her, her long gauzy skirt flowing over slender legs and spilling to the floor.

Renzo had the sense that she was preparing herself—finally—to talk to him and he made a mental note not to interrupt.

“Remember when we were talking right before dinner tonight and you asked me what we would do if we couldn’t… you know… forget about the kisses we’d shared?” The color in her cheeks heightened just a little, but she watched him steadily, her blue eyes seemingly calculating his response.

“Hell yeah, I remember.” Despite all their talk about business, he’d either been thinking of that conversation or the kisses themselves in the back of his mind all evening. “I realize that was presumptuous of me, but I--”

Recalling his resolution not to interrupt, he stopped himself before he went any further. “Why?”

“Well, I’ve been giving that idea a lot of thought.” She peered out the windshield as he turned down Lincoln Road. “My apartment building is on the left just after that next stop sign.”

Renzo waited. Strained for a hint of what she might be driving at in the tone of her voice and came up empty. He was definitely no expert on deciphering women. He spent his days hanging out with construction crews which remained largely male.

He parked the truck in the driveway of the apartment complex she pointed out and hustled to open her door for her. The low stucco building couldn’t have held more than eight apartments, but it boasted a lighted swimming pool alongside the parking area, surrounded by a few low palm trees to provide some shade. By the illumination of the street lamps, he could see each apartment had its own patio, some overflowing with healthy tropical plants or bright lawn furniture, others devoid of any decoration.

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