Read Online Acapulco Nights by K. J. Gillenwater - Free Book Online
Authors: K. J. Gillenwater
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loudly.
“Joaquin, are you looking for me?”
He turned, surprise reflected in his hazel eyes.
“Suzie, there you are.” He straightened his perfectly-straight tie. His eyes slid over my bikini-clad body, and he raised an eyebrow in an appreciative gesture.
Suddenly aware of my stringy hair, damp with seawater, and my smudged make-up, I rubbed under my eyes with my towel and then wrapped it around my waist. Why did I care what I looked like in front of Joaquin? I didn’t need to impress him anymore.
He cleared his throat. “We need to talk about last night. There are things we need to discuss.”
Maybe he was thinking about divorce as well. Maybe he had someone else in his life, too. “I think that would be a good idea.”
“Do you have any plans for lunch?”
I should have told him I did have plans—Janice and George were waiting for me in the cafe. Instead, I heard myself answer as if from a distance, “No, I don’t have any plans.”
I needed to talk to him as soon as possible about the divorce, so calling James would have to wait. In a way, having lunch with Joaquin meant I was doing something for James and me, so any guilt quickly dissipated.
“Come, querida , we need to talk.” He grasped me by the elbow, took the key card from my hand, and unlocked the door to our suite.
He guided me to the couch and sat me down. I shivered in the cool blast of air-conditioning.
He took a seat across from me in the wingback chair. “Why don’t you change, and then we can go to lunch.” His voice tumbled over my body in a husky whisper.
Even though my mind whirled with thoughts of divorce and James, something buried deep within me came to life and drew me toward Joaquin. He had every right to be angry with me last night—he was my husband and I left him behind. He must have seen the change in me, the softening of my gaze or maybe the looseness of my limbs. The sophisticated woman I had become receded into the shadows, and the young girl of twelve years ago surfaced eagerly.
“All right,” I said.
Everything about him was so masculine—his broad shoulders, his lean torso, his well-trimmed goatee. Suddenly, I wanted to take a shower, clean off the brine of the ocean and maybe cool myself down a little. I felt very exposed sitting in my bikini on the couch.
“I’ll hop in the shower and be out in a jiffy. Why don’t you make yourself a drink?” I nodded at the stocked mini-fridge.
“Okay,” Joaquin answered. He watched me cross the room with an odd intensity.
I broke my gaze with him and ducked into the bedroom to undress. Alone in the bedroom, I held my breath, waiting. When I heard the clink of ice on glass, I exhaled in relief.
What was I so scared of? He sat in the other room having a drink, and I would be in and out of the shower and dressed in a matter of moments. Then, we could find George and Janice and join them for lunch. There was nothing wrong in what we were doing. I didn’t need to feel ashamed or nervous. Two old friends having a conversation, having lunch.
But if it was innocent, why did it feel so wrong?
*
I came out of the bathroom, a thick terry robe wrapped snugly around me.
I jumped at the sight of Joaquin staring at me from the bedroom doorway, his gaze burning. What was he doing in here?
“So, how long has it been? Ten years?” he asked.
“Twelve,” I answered, nervous, unsure. “I—I’ll be dressed in a minute.” I reached for the door to show him I wanted some privacy.
Joaquin stopped me from shutting it. “I want some answers from you,” he said, his gravelly voice on the brink of anger. “You are my wife. And I should have what is mine.”
His gaze flickered over me, and then rested on my mouth. I knew what he wanted. My stomach fluttered, making it hard for me to speak. I should be outraged, I should shove him out the door, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I froze to the spot, caught between wanting to flee and wanting to fall into his arms.
I knew,
“Joaquin, are you looking for me?”
He turned, surprise reflected in his hazel eyes.
“Suzie, there you are.” He straightened his perfectly-straight tie. His eyes slid over my bikini-clad body, and he raised an eyebrow in an appreciative gesture.
Suddenly aware of my stringy hair, damp with seawater, and my smudged make-up, I rubbed under my eyes with my towel and then wrapped it around my waist. Why did I care what I looked like in front of Joaquin? I didn’t need to impress him anymore.
He cleared his throat. “We need to talk about last night. There are things we need to discuss.”
Maybe he was thinking about divorce as well. Maybe he had someone else in his life, too. “I think that would be a good idea.”
“Do you have any plans for lunch?”
I should have told him I did have plans—Janice and George were waiting for me in the cafe. Instead, I heard myself answer as if from a distance, “No, I don’t have any plans.”
I needed to talk to him as soon as possible about the divorce, so calling James would have to wait. In a way, having lunch with Joaquin meant I was doing something for James and me, so any guilt quickly dissipated.
“Come, querida , we need to talk.” He grasped me by the elbow, took the key card from my hand, and unlocked the door to our suite.
He guided me to the couch and sat me down. I shivered in the cool blast of air-conditioning.
He took a seat across from me in the wingback chair. “Why don’t you change, and then we can go to lunch.” His voice tumbled over my body in a husky whisper.
Even though my mind whirled with thoughts of divorce and James, something buried deep within me came to life and drew me toward Joaquin. He had every right to be angry with me last night—he was my husband and I left him behind. He must have seen the change in me, the softening of my gaze or maybe the looseness of my limbs. The sophisticated woman I had become receded into the shadows, and the young girl of twelve years ago surfaced eagerly.
“All right,” I said.
Everything about him was so masculine—his broad shoulders, his lean torso, his well-trimmed goatee. Suddenly, I wanted to take a shower, clean off the brine of the ocean and maybe cool myself down a little. I felt very exposed sitting in my bikini on the couch.
“I’ll hop in the shower and be out in a jiffy. Why don’t you make yourself a drink?” I nodded at the stocked mini-fridge.
“Okay,” Joaquin answered. He watched me cross the room with an odd intensity.
I broke my gaze with him and ducked into the bedroom to undress. Alone in the bedroom, I held my breath, waiting. When I heard the clink of ice on glass, I exhaled in relief.
What was I so scared of? He sat in the other room having a drink, and I would be in and out of the shower and dressed in a matter of moments. Then, we could find George and Janice and join them for lunch. There was nothing wrong in what we were doing. I didn’t need to feel ashamed or nervous. Two old friends having a conversation, having lunch.
But if it was innocent, why did it feel so wrong?
*
I came out of the bathroom, a thick terry robe wrapped snugly around me.
I jumped at the sight of Joaquin staring at me from the bedroom doorway, his gaze burning. What was he doing in here?
“So, how long has it been? Ten years?” he asked.
“Twelve,” I answered, nervous, unsure. “I—I’ll be dressed in a minute.” I reached for the door to show him I wanted some privacy.
Joaquin stopped me from shutting it. “I want some answers from you,” he said, his gravelly voice on the brink of anger. “You are my wife. And I should have what is mine.”
His gaze flickered over me, and then rested on my mouth. I knew what he wanted. My stomach fluttered, making it hard for me to speak. I should be outraged, I should shove him out the door, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I froze to the spot, caught between wanting to flee and wanting to fall into his arms.
I knew,
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