Page 35 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

Scrambling for the right way to cool things down before she could accuse him of taking control, Renzo tilted his head to lean back against the textured expanse of the shell-lined wall behind him.

How did one give space to a woman who had made it clear she wasn’t ready for a relationship? A woman who was struggling with how to assert herself in life?

Inspiration hit.

“What do you say we head to the lawyer’s office tomorrow and we can legitimize the partnership? Tie up all the loose ends, make sure things are legally binding?” How was that for cool-as-you-please? She couldn’t accuse him of trying to take control after lovemaking this time. Not when he was so clearly offering to put legal assurances of their professional equality in her hands.

Yet, the grotto remained eerily silent in the aftermath of his question. Esme unnaturally still.

“Esme?” He gripped her shoulders, her head tucked under his chin. “What do you think?”

Straightening, she met his gaze, her expression difficult to gauge through the heavy shadows, but her cool tone abundantly clear. “Sounds like a very reasonable plan. Should we go?”

She slid off his lap, busying herself with righting her clothes and smoothing her long hair.

“I said the wrong thing again, didn’t I?” What made him think he could have any kind of relationship with a quiet woman? How did a guy know what these quiet types were thinking?

Then again, since when was he even interested in a relationship? Hadn’t he sworn off women since Celeste? At least, he had until Esme. The significance of Esmerelda being the first woman he’d slept with since then suddenly seemed to multiply. Quiet or not, this woman had become important to him very quickly.

“Of course you didn’t say the wrong thing.” Esme retrieved her paperwork from their business meeting and slid her purse strap over her shoulder again. “It’s just that I’m accustomed to having all my clothes back in place before wading through business conversations and talk of seeking an attorney. I just wasn’t prepared for the mood shift.”

Renzo tucked and zipped, all the while watching Esme’s clipped movements as she obsessively straightened the edges of her stack of papers.

“Okay, sarcasm I can work with. I did a bad job with the segue, so sue me.” He stepped outside the grotto, sorry to leave their quiet haven and the all too rare moment of mutual understanding behind them. “I was only trying to save you the effort of resurrecting a little distance between us. It’s a peculiarity of yours—you’re not exactly the post-sex cuddling type. Remember how you kicked me out of your apartment last time?”

Esme had followed him into the gardens, but her shoes stopped their clicking as he posed his question.

“I didnotkick you out of my apartment.”

“You couldn’t hustle me out of there fast enough, woman. Admit it.” He stepped back to nudge her forward. “I just thought I’d spare you the stress of figuring out what do with me this time. This is no stress, okay?” He held his hands up to demonstrate. “No pressure from this guy.”

Esme shook her head, resumed her step. Her long hair bounced along in time with her feet hitting the path as they walked away from the Vizcaya grounds toward the parking area. A smile curved her lips.

“You are too much. Care to tell me why you bother with me and my so-called peculiarities when you could have your pick of women?”

“Why Ibotherwith you? Aside from the fact you’re extremely fine to look at— which is actually not even a big factor for me— you’ve got this part conservative, part wild-woman thing going on that’s sort of fun to watch. I never would have thought you’d be a sex-in-the-grotto type of woman and yet you just knocked me flat on my ass back there. Maybe I just want to see what you do for a follow-up act.”

He could go on and on about what he found attractive about her, but he doubted she would care to hear it in her effort to maintain space.

Besides, he was only just starting to realize how much she saw in her.

As they neared his truck, the lone vehicle left in the lot, Esme slowed.

“Have you had many serious relationships?” Casting him a considering look, she ran a hand over her bare arm in the cooling night air.

“One. I ended up alone at the altar though, so I take it things weren’t as serious on her side. How about you?” He unlocked her side of the truck, grateful she hadn’t breathed a word about taking a bus home.

Her expression softened, her brow furrowed in gentle empathy. Not what he needed from her, damn it.

He nudged her closer to the open door before she could quiz him about being ditched at the altar. “Come on, ‘fess up. Do you have miles of broken hearts in your past, Esme?”

“Zero. This dating thing is pretty much uncharted terrain for me. I’ve been too buried in art history and commitment to work to date. No, I take that back. I think I’ve just been too chicken to date because I was never particularly good at it.” She accepted his arm to lever herself up to the high running board and into the truck cab. “How long ago did your fiancé pull the disappearing act?”

“Six months ago. I swore off women until you. Being left at the altar has a way of killing the healthiest libidos. Temporarily, anyway.” He grinned up at her as he tucked the long skirt closer to her body so he wouldn’t close it in the door. “You ready to go?”

“Almost. You do realize I’m obvious rebound material, right?” She propped the door open with one hand so he couldn’t close it. “I’m sure this is just one of those quickie fling things and we’ll move past it in no time.”

She flashed him an over-bright smile before letting go of the door as if to signal this discussion was closed.

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