A Sultry Love Song Read online

  “No, Karen. If you want to give it go ahead, but I’m the boss and I’m not about to say that.”

  Rolling her eyes playfully, Karen backed off.

  Kim, a Marine veteran and the elder stateswoman of Citadel’s guard staff, raised her glass. “I’ll do it, Karen. Here’s to those who wish us well. And those who don’t, can go to hell.”

  The women around the table broke out in peals of laughter. Mindful of her role as the owner and guard supervisor, Joi contained her mirth. Still, she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face at the snarky declaration.

  “I’m just glad we were able to get the contract.” The comment came from Carol, a thirtysomething mother of two who was formerly one of Charlotte’s finest. “I enjoyed my time walking my beat, but I’m not trying to go back to the force. Not at my age.”

  “I feel you.” Joi knew that even on her easiest day on the police force, Carol’s old job was never as relaxed as her current post, guarding the patrons and assets of a ritzy dog salon in midtown Charlotte. Along with Carol, both Maxine and Traci, two of the other guards on Citadel’s staff, came from police backgrounds.

  Rose, swallowing a bite of her food, chimed in. “I agree. I’m way past the age of going back on deck. I’ve been on land so long I’m sure I’ve lost my sea legs. Right, Sheryl?”

  Sheryl nodded, but chose not to speak around a mouthful of food. Both she and Rose had served in the US Navy.

  Yolanda and Jackie, the two guards who’d been displaced from their positions when Mrs. Clark’s boutique had shut down, were both Army vets. Joi felt the two of them were particularly suited to the bank contract, since they were both taller and more muscular in build. Of all the places Citadel had a security presence, Joi was sure the bank was the place where physical prowess was most likely to become necessary.

  Yolanda, scrolling through something on her phone, quipped, “I’m looking forward to handling the bank job. I just know some young buck is gonna try to break bad with me.”

  Jackie snickered. “You’re always looking for a fight.”

  Yolanda shook her head. “Not really. I just won’t back down from one.”

  Joi shook her head, as well. She was used to that type of banter between the two of them. Yolanda could be a bit of a hothead, but she was also a professional. Aside from that, Jackie’s cool and collected nature provided the perfect balance that made the two of them such a great team.

  Joi scooted her hips over the leather seat of the booth’s bench, bumping into Karen. “Let me out.” All the iced tea she’d been drinking was now looking for a new home.

  Karen stood, allowing Joi to scoot out of the booth.

  On her feet now, Joi told the rest of the girls, “I’ll be back.” Then she turned and went off in search of the ladies’ room.

  Within a few minutes, she’d handled her needs, washed up and checked her reflection. As she left the ladies’ room, heading back for her booth, she saw a dark-haired man in a suit coming toward her.

  That can’t be who I think it is.

  Most of the light in the place was coming from the recessed lighting in the ceiling, which made it hard to see clearly. She slowed her steps as she came closer to the man.

  His steps did not slow.

  By the time she realized it really was Marco Alvarez strolling her way, he’d already entered her personal space.

  “Ah, Ms. Lewis. It is you.” His hand was gripped around the handles of a large plastic bag bearing the restaurant’s logo.

  “Hello, Mr. Alvarez. My team and I were just enjoying a meal together. We have a very good rapport with one another.” She drummed her fingertips against her thigh.

  “I gather that, based on all the noise coming from your table.”

  Her eyebrow hitched. Just how long had he been there? And why in the hell had he been listening in on their conversation? She had many questions, but she knew better than to ask them. “I hope we aren’t the reason you’re taking your meal to go.” She gestured to his bag.

  He shook his head, a half smile on his face. “No. I always get my food to go here. I don’t care for the atmosphere half as much as I do the ribs.”

  “I see.” She moved to his right, hoping to walk around him and put an end to their awkward conversation. But before she could make two good steps, he cleared his throat.

  Sensing he was trying to get her attention, she stopped walking, and turned back in his direction. “Yes, Mr. Alvarez?”

  The half smile remained on his handsome, burnished face. “You can call me Marco, you know.”

  As she viewed the appealing shagginess of his slight five o’clock shadow, she shook her head. “I think it’s better if we keep things professional between us, Mr. Alvarez.” She emphasized the title and his last name.

  He scratched his chin with his free hand, as if thinking about something. “No one else who works in the bank calls me Mr. Alvarez.”

  Now it was her turn to smile. “I assure you, Mr. Alvarez, I’m not like anyone who works in your bank.”

  And with that, she turned on her heel and started walking back toward her table.

  * * *

  Watching Joi’s back as she walked away, Marco felt his brow furrow. Had she just dismissed him? He was pretty sure she had, because he hadn’t had a chance to say what was on his mind. He was also pretty sure that he didn’t like her walking away from him that way. If their business relationship was going to work out, she needed to know that.

  With the bag containing his rapidly cooling food in his hand, he strolled across the dining room, in the direction he’d seen her retreat. When he located the corner booth where she was sitting, he stopped beside it.

  Letting the bevy of women see his most dazzling smile, he announced his presence. “Good evening, ladies. Are you enjoying yourselves?”

  A bumper crop of smiles, cooed greetings and appreciative glances were flung his way, which only served to brighten his smile. Women had been responding to him this way since he was a boy of ten, and tonight was no exception.

  He noted that, once again, Joi seemed immune to his charms. She was the only woman at the table whose face didn’t appear welcoming. While her friends were basically batting their eyelashes at him, Joi looked like she was sucking a lemon.

  Finally, she announced, “Ladies, this is Marco Alvarez.”

  That seemed to sober the atmosphere at the table, because all of the women dialed back their overt flirting right away. He wondered what Joi had said to them about him.

  Speaking again, he asked, “Would you mind if I stole Ms. Lewis for a moment?”

  All eyes at the table turned to Joi. He could see her squirming under the scrutiny, and he also saw the rosy color rising into her cheeks.

  Her expression remained flat and unreadable as she said, “Sure, Mr. Alvarez.”

  The woman beside Joi allowed her out of the booth, and once she was on her feet, Marco made a sweeping gesture. “We can step outside. I promise this won’t take long.”

  She said nothing, but walked past him in the direction of the door.

  He took in her attire as he moved behind her. She’d changed from the business suit he’d seen her in at their eventful interview. Now, she wore a figure-hugging sweater dress, in a soft orange color that complemented her skin tone beautifully. The dress reached her ankles, and had long sleeves, but there was no denying the shapely body beneath the garment. Walking behind her made it fairly difficult to avoid staring at her derriere, but he raised his gaze nonetheless.

  Once they were both outside the glass doors of the restaurant, sheltered beneath a black-and-gold awning, she stopped and turned to him. “What is this about, Mr. Alvarez?”

  Unable to hold the words back, he spoke. “You look very nice tonight, Ms. Lewis.”

  She folded her arms
across her chest, but kept her expression unreadable. “Thank you, but I hope you didn’t ask me to come out here just to tell me that.”

  He wanted to scoff, but refrained. He sensed that would only make their interactions more unpleasant. “No. This is about the two of us.”

  One of her neatly shaped brows rose.

  He realized she might be getting the wrong impression, so he sought to clarify his statement. “If we’re going to have a good working relationship, I’ll need to know I can trust you.”

  She shifted her weight, and dropped her arms. “I come highly recommended, and I have an impeccable record of getting the job done for my clients.”

  “I know that. But we’re going to have to address our past history, Joi. I’m going to want an explanation of what happened between you and...”

  She put up her hand. “I’d rather not hear his name. And that is a personal matter between him and me, not something that should be brought up between us.”

  “So you’re not going to address it at all?”

  She shrugged. “There’s nothing to address. What happened six years ago has no bearing on my ability to perform the job you’ve contracted me for. Are we done here?”

  He could see her gaze was focused on the restaurant door. Since she wasn’t going to tell him anything, he didn’t see any good reason to hold her up. “Yes, Ms. Lewis. I’ll see you Tuesday. I like to get my guards acclimated for the first couple of weeks before I step back and let them do their job.”

  “Thank you.” As the curt response left her lips, she strode past him, and disappeared into the restaurant.

  For a few moments, he stood in her wake. Then he took his probably cold food to his car, climbed in and started the engine.

  As he drove through the streets of midtown Charlotte, he engaged his car’s hands-free calling functionality to call his mother.

  When her voice came over the speaker, he smiled. “Feliz cumpleonos, Mama.”

  Her response was tinged with delight. “Thank you, Marco. You are such a good son. You never forget your Mama’s birthday, no matter how busy you are.”

  He chuckled. Today had been a hectic one, but he would never forget a day so special. “Of course not. Did you get the flowers I sent you?”

  “Yes, and thank you for those, too. They are gorgeous. But don’t you think you went a little overboard? They must have been very expensive.”

  “No price is too high for you, Mama.” Sure, sending sixty-five yellow roses to his mother, all the way back home in Costa Rica, had been costly. But since he couldn’t be there in person, he’d thought it appropriate to send her the flowers in her favorite color, with one bloom for each year she’d graced the earth with her presence.

  “You’re such a dear, but you know I hate being fussed over.”

  He shook his head, knowing the exact opposite to be true. “Enjoy them, Mama.”

  “I am, but don’t spend so much next time. You already work much too hard, and I don’t want you going into debt on frivolity.”

  “Yes, Mama.” He knew that was the only response she would accept.

  “You know what I really want for my birthday, or for any day, for that matter.”

  He sighed. He’d known this was coming, but he’d hoped the grand gesture of the flowers would distract her from it. “Yes, Mama. I know. You want grandchildren.”

  “At this point, I would settle for a grandchild, singular. When are you going to settle down and bring me some babies to spoil?”

  Keeping his eyes on the road, even as his mind searched for the proper response, he swung his car into his driveway. “Mama, when the time is right, I will settle down. You have my word.”

  With love in her voice, she said, “I only want happiness for you, my dear.”

  “I know, Mama. I love you, and I’ll call you again in a few days. Give my best to Papa.”

  “I love you, as well.”

  He ended the call just as he pulled into his garage. A few moments later, he cut the engine. Grabbing the bag from the passenger seat, he took his food inside the house.

  The echoes of his mother’s words dogged him at each step.

  Chapter 4

  “Something doesn’t look right.” Joi tilted her head slightly to the right, trying to look at her painting from a different angle. But no matter how she stared, it still bore little resemblance to the potted white orchid she was supposed to be re-creating.

  She was sitting on a low stool at Wine and Whimsy, taking their Saturday-evening class. The wine and paint shop, owned by her older sister, Joanne, was her favorite weekend hangout. While she didn’t think she had any talent for painting at all, she recognized the stress-relieving power of creativity.

  Joanne, clad in her bright blue apron, eased over to where she sat. “Complaining about your painting again? I could hear you grousing on the other side of the room.”

  Adding another stroke of white paint to one of her misshapen petals, Joi blew out a breath. “Mine doesn’t look anything like the display. I suck at this.”

  The woman next to her, who was about halfway into her second glass of merlot, said, “It looks pretty good to me. Maybe you just haven’t had enough wine.”

  Joanne chuckled. “Loretta’s right, in a way. Relax, and stop being such a perfectionist. Art is all about interpretation, and self-expression.”

  Joi looked from her sister to the painting and back again. “Well, that must mean I interpret this flower to be crooked, and I’m expressing it that way.”

  “Whatever, girl. I’m going to help somebody who’s actually paying for this.” With a shake of her head, Joanne moved on to converse with another “budding artist.”

  Watching her sister waft around the room like a cool breeze, Joi smiled. Growing up, the two of them had occupied very specific roles in their household. Joanne, three years older than Joi, had been the tall, graceful sister with a talent for the arts. Joi had been the shorter, more awkward tomboy, who’d excelled in sports. Both of them had performed well academically, but while Joi pursued her criminal justice degree at North Carolina Central University, Joanne had gotten her bachelor of fine arts from the Art Institute of Atlanta. Following in the footsteps of their mother, Emma, a seamstress who owned a small clothing boutique, both Joanne and Joi had gone on to find fulfillment and success in entrepreneurship.

  After spending the remainder of the class trying to even out the crooked petals of her painted orchid, Joi threw in the towel and put down her brush. Her hands and the blue smock she wore were stained with paint, as was the plastic wineglass she’d been drinking rosé from. Narrowing her eyes at the painting, she had to agree with Loretta. Now that she had a full glass of wine in her system, her painting did look a whole lot better.

  Once the other women had emptied out of the shop, Joanne returned to her side. “Are you ready to hang it yet? Because I’m technically closed, and I would like to go home sometime tonight.”

  Lifting the painting from the easel, Joi handed it over to her sister. “Yep. But hang it in the back, by your office.”

  Joanne accepted the canvas, and Joi looked on as she took it to the short hallway that led to her office, the break room and the restrooms of the shop. Once the painting was hung, she returned. “It will only be there for a few days, until it dries. You can come pick it up then.”

  Joi nodded. “I will. I’m not sure I want you to keep it on permanent display.”

  Folding her arms across her chest, Joanne narrowed her eyes. “Joi, what’s up with you?”

  Feeling a little uncomfortable under her older sister’s knowing gaze, she started cleaning up her paint station. “What do you mean?”

  “Girl, please. You’ve got something on your mind, and we both know it, so you might as well spill it.”

  With a sigh, Joi tucked
her brushes into the well of cleaning solution. “Remember I told you I won that bank contract for Citadel?”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “Well, what I didn’t tell you is that Marco Alvarez is the bank president, so technically, I’ll be working for him.”

  Joanne’s brow creased at the mention of Marco’s name. “Marco. Marco. The name sounds familiar, but where do you know him from?”

  Sliding the stool under the table, Joi said, “He was Ernesto’s best man.”

  Surprise widened Joanne’s eyes. “Oh.”

  “Oh is right.”

  “I’m guessing he wants some answers about what happened back then.” Joanne grabbed a cloth and began wiping down the ten paint stations scattered around the main room.

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, I ran into him at Mimosa Grill last night, and he brought it up.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing, except that what happened between Ernesto and I is a personal matter that has nothing to do with my work.”

  “Hmm.” Joanne probably had something else to say on the matter, but she kept it to herself.

  “I don’t know if he’ll bring it up again, or what I’ll say if he does. And if that’s not bad enough...” Joi let her voice trail off as she picked up a second cloth to help her sister with the closing duties.

  “What? What aren’t you saying?”

  “I...well...I kind of like him.”

  Joanne stopped scrubbing, turning wide eyes on her baby sister. “Joi, are you trying to tell me you’re attracted to him?”

  “He’s fine, Joanne. I mean, he was good-looking back in the day, but now he’s completely, totally, utterly, five-alarm smoking hot.”

  Still staring, Joanne stammered, “But he’s your ex-fiancé’s friend, Joi. And he’s about to be your boss! Ain’t nobody that damn hot.”

  “I beg to differ.” Joi pulled out her smartphone, and did a quick internet image search. When she found Marco’s photo on the bank’s website, she sidled over to where her sister stood furiously scrubbing a blob of red paint off the tabletop and showed it to her. “Look at him.”