Chapter 2
Carla had never liked being pushed around by a guy—in bed or out. Why did it turn her on when he yelled at her? Jonah Kane was definitely the kind of guy who would push her around. He looked like he’d hold her down and maybe bite. And—surprisingly—she’d like it.
He was nothing like Geoff, and she was pretty sure that was why she was insta-attracted to him. Geoff was mild-mannered and—to be honest—dorky. Carla had liked that about him after the string of fuckboys she’d dated after college. Geoff had listened to her, treated her like what she had to say was important, like her aspirations were worthy. He’d wanted the same things—a home, a social life like her parents had, and lots of babies.
At least, until he hadn’t.
So many people—her sister, her brother, her mom—had questioned her choice of fiancé, and she’d blown them off. Marrying Geoff, who’d worked for her father’s company, had been the one way she could contribute to its future. Her parents had always made it clear that she was generally a debit on the family ledger, that paying for her to go to college wasn’t the same kind of investment that sending her sister and brother to prestigious institutions was. She had no talent for math or any real business sense. She’d given away enough design advice to pay herself a salary for a year, but there wasn’t any need. She might not be doing anything to earn her trust fund, but she used it just the same.
Once she got into the bedroom she’d used when visiting Lola with her brother and sister a few years ago, she carefully unpacked her dresses, placing them on hangers in the small wardrobe. If it had just been family, she wouldn’t have considered changing her clothes. If Jonah wasn’t so—gah—handsome, she would have put on worn-out jeans and hunted for her great aunt’s stash of rum before Lola returned from her checkers game. But, because she wanted to feel like she was wearing her armor, she reapplied her makeup and put on a dress before returning downstairs.
Jonah hadn’t moved far. His big body was straining the wood fibers of one of the chairs while his arm curled around a book. She hadn’t put on shoes and loved the feel of the cool stone of the steps against her skin. It was remarkable how cool this old house stayed even without proper air-conditioning. It was well built, and she appreciated that.
Not wearing shoes felt especially like a mistake as she approached Jonah. If he stood up, he’d dwarf her with his size. The idea excited her more than she would ever admit aloud.
She walked through the sitting room to the heavy wood cabinets lining the wall. She opened three before she found what she was looking for. Some ice, a lime, and a glass, and she’d be in business.
“Kind of early to be drinking, isn’t it?” She turned to find him right behind her.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “I would say it’s a free country, but it’s not. Still, the last I heard, the regime did not prohibit drinking before five.”
“You’re one of those ‘ladies who lunch,’ aren’t you?” Jonah extended his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles, making his thigh muscles pop out. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about his quad muscles? They were exceptional, but they weren’t even the best-looking thing about him. His face had that covered. “You need to start drinking around noon just to get through your afternoon shopping.”
Carla’s face heated, and her heart beat faster. She could feel it thumping as she replied. “I don’t know who the fuck you think I am, but you have no right to talk to me that way.” She adjusted her grip on the rum bottle, ready to bring it into the kitchen. “I’m not sure what I did to piss you off, but you are way out of line.”
She lifted her nose and started to walk out of the room. Before she made her escape—and got the last word—he was behind her. He wasn’t touching her, but she could feel the heat emanating from his body all the same. She smelled the minty soap he used, worn down by a hint of sweat.
If he wasn’t such an asshole, jumping Jonah would be a perfect—and convenient—way to get over Geoff. She could have just gotten right under all of Jonah’s glorious muscles. But, for some reason, he’d decided that he hated her on sight. And he was wrong about her. She had a glass of wine at a charity lunch here and there, but, until a few months ago, she’d been rehearsing to be the perfect housewife and mother. She’d done that for a year. She hadn’t gone out; she’d always had a home-cooked meal ready when Geoff got home from work. Hell, she’d looked through his Internet search history to find his favorite porn. Although she wasn’t a busty blonde, she had enough expensive lingerie to be a less-than-completely-flat-chested redhead if she needed to be.
Still, she had nothing to show for it. Everything she’d been trying to do for the past few years to prove she belonged in her family was worthless. She was worthless. And now this guy wanted to pick at that scab.
“I can talk to you anyway I want, princess.” His words came out with gusts of breath that she could have sworn moved the hair at the back of her head.
“Sure you can,” she hissed. “But you can’t expect me to stay here and listen.”
She walked out, ego bruised but her head held high.
* * * *
Jonah clenched and unclenched his fists after she walked out of the room. That little bit of fluff had a steel core, and she was going to drive him all the way crazy. She was his worst nightmare, but he wanted her despite himself.
That’s why he’d thrown out those biting words, which he’d immediately regretted. He needed her to stay away from him. And he needed to make sure she wasn’t here to hurt Lola. He knew her type—the kind that would do anything or hurt anyone in order to get what she wanted. He might want to fuck her, but she wasn’t the kind of girl who would let it go at a fling. No, the pretty, pretty princess would want forever, something he never had any intention of giving anyone.
The front door opened, and Lola came through. “Hola, mijo.” She always called him “her son” in Spanish, which warmed a part of him that didn’t usually feel the light of day. His own mother had barely been around while he was growing up—too busy working. Maternal concern for anything other than his grades and whether he’d brushed his teeth was foreign to him. “Has Carlita arrived?”
“Yeah, she’s in the kitchen.” He pointed to the door Carla had just walked through. “I couldn’t stop her from getting into the rum.”
Lola’s laugh was more of a bark. “Be nice to that girl.” She shook her finger in the general direction of his face—not very threatening considering she was about four foot nine. “The idiot she was engaged to broke up with her, and she’s here for tender, loving care.”
“She said she was here to give you something.”
Lola had this evil smile that Jonah had learned to fear, and it was on her face now. “That’s what she thinks.” She shook her head. “My nephew sent her here because she’s lost, and I happen to be an expert at helping young people find themselves.”
Jonah didn’t believe in any of that woo-woo shit. “Whatever.”
“You should know. You were floundering when you came here for the first time.”
She followed Carla into the kitchen before he could protest. He’d never been lost. He’d always known exactly who he was.
* * * *
“Carla, mi amor! Come here this instant and hug me.” Carla followed her great aunt’s instructions and was immediately wrenched into the woman’s embrace. Though Lola was one of the few people in her family smaller than her, she was deceptively strong. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” Her words were muffled by her aunt’s fluffy, curly hair.
Lola pushed her away abruptly. “You look terrible. Skinny.”
“I was trying to get in shape for my wedding.”
“Pfft. If you were trying to get into shape, you would have been eating ropa vieja and plantains, putting meat on your bones.” Lola pinched her side. “You’ll make me one of those mojitos you have on the counter, and we’ll put together some dinner.”
“I thought you served tea at four?” Carla muddled some fresh mint to fix her aunt a drink.
“I’m running late today because I was hung up with my lover.”
Carla was glad she wasn’t drinking because she would have choked. “Far be it for me to get in the way of you and your love life.”
“Not a love life, Carla. Sex.” She’d forgotten how frank Tia Lola could be. Nothing like her much-older sister—Carla’s abuela. According to family lore, Lola had only been in love with one man—her ex-husband—and he now lived in Miami, near their adult children.
When Carla had come to Cuba for the first time with her father, when she was sixteen, she’d watched Lola get ready for a date. Though Lola was nearing seventy, she’d aged in the mysterious way that French or Italian women did. Carla had marveled at all the potions Lola applied to her face and neck. She’d never forget her great aunt’s words. All of this stuff is bullshit. The best skin cream is an orgasm. Nobody knew what would come out of her tiny, pocket Venus of a great aunt.
Carla had taken Lola’s words to heart during her early twenties. She’d made out with every hot artist, musician, and bartender on South Beach—always making sure she got hers. No one had intentionally made her feel bad about the one-night stands and flings she’d had before she’d met Geoff; it was all part of her flighty, party-girl image.
But when her brother got divorced, she realized that she was getting further and further away from the life she wanted with every new flirtation. She’d thought that settling down with a steady guy instead of a model who was really a bartender who couldn’t be bothered to show up for a real date would improve her life. Instead, she was humiliated and in self-imposed exile in a foreign country—a communist country at that. So no opportunities for retail therapy. She really should have thought this out better.
Lola must have noticed her scrunched-up face because she poked Carla between the eyes. “I know you have lots of fancy fillers and peels in the States, but don’t court wrinkles.” She clapped her hands and pointed at the ancient refrigerator. “We’ll heat up some leftovers, and you’ll be too full to be worried.”
“That’s not how it works, tia.”
“Of course it is.” Lola raised her glass and took a healthy gulp of her mojito. One would think that her diminutive size would make her delicate, but her drinking was certainly hardy.
“Far be it from me to argue.”
Lola huffed and started pulling covered plates out of her vintage refrigerator. Shortly after that, there was food on the stove, and smells curled around the kitchen to Carla’s nose. Back home, she didn’t eat Cuban food often. But whenever she smelled ropa vieja, it felt like coming home.
She finished one cocktail and made herself another, after which Lola held out her empty glass. After a mojito and a half, she was truly happy she’d come to Cuba. She needed to get away. Around her deliriously in-love siblings, she felt as though she couldn’t get her breath. She didn’t begrudge them their happiness, but it hurt so much that she’d done everything the right way, and she still didn’t have that.
“You look sad again.” Lola pushed two heaping plates of food at her. “Jonah will never pay you any attention if you look constipated.”
“I hate to break it to you, but Jonah is not my type.”
Lola threw her head back and laughed so hard she coughed and choked. Just when Carla thought she might have to break Lola’s ribs to give her CPR, she stopped. “That boy is the type of every single person on earth who likes to have sex with men. If I were even five years younger…”
“You should go for it. Since when do you care about age?” That pit of jealousy that hit her when she said that was crazy; she had no claim on Jonah
“Pssh.” Lola made a dismissive hand motion. “Jonah doesn’t need me for that. He needs Mama Lola, not curl-his-toes-in-bed Lola.”
Carla wasn’t about to touch that. So, she looked at the plates. “Where’s yours?”
“I had too much sex to eat.” Lola’s face looked totally innocent. If Carla didn’t know better, she’d think her great aunt was a sweet, gently aged, older lady. Not true. Not true at all.
“That’s not a thing, tia.”
“Just eat dinner with Jonah.”
“I don’t want to. He doesn’t like me.”
“He’s not stupid, so of course he likes you.”
“No. He thinks I’m here to fleece you of your savings and steal the family home out from under you.”
“Well, are you?”
“No. I’m here to do some updates so you can charge more money.” Carla took a bite of the ropa vieja—she refused to moan aloud because it was just food, and she wasn’t that deprived of pleasure. Or maybe she was, but she didn’t want to admit it out loud.
“What do I need more money for?”
That stopped Carla in her tracks. Lola had a fuller life than she did—a lover, a very good-looking man in the house to look at, and an active social life. All her needs were met. Maybe Carla was here for nothing.
Lola grabbed Carla’s shoulders, her bony fingers demanding Carla’s full attention. “You’re here because you need something to do. And I’m happy to give it to you.”
That made Carla feel bad. She’d always felt like a burden to her parents. Hell, her mom had let her redecorate their master bath twice. Although Carla was too proud to borrow money, she’d had less of a qualm about doing work for her parents—even if it wasn’t necessary. And now they were pawning her off on her great aunt.
“I don’t have to do anything if you don’t want me to.”
“This place needs sprucing up; I think you’re just the one to do it. I’m just not going to charge any more money.” Lola winked. “I like my strays.”
When they walked into the dining room, Carla was gut-punched again by how attractive Jonah was. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, a stance that made the muscles of his forearms especially prominent. She imagined them pinning her wrists into a bed while he pounded into her. Sweat broke out onto her upper lip, even more unladylike than the thoughts this man aroused in her.
He seemed oblivious to how hot and bothered he made her. If he was aware, he’d either throw her over his shoulder and run upstairs or—more likely—flee the island.
“One of those plates for me, princess?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
Jonah sat in another chair that looked like it had to work hard to take his weight. She’d never been into guys who were so big and broad before. Geoff had been lean, almost to the point of being scrawny. She shook her head. This comparing Geoff and Jonah had to stop. Jonah didn’t even like her; they weren’t going to have a relationship.
“Yes or no, princess?” He looked pleased with himself.
Carla shoved his plate at him and seated herself as far away as she could, next to Lola. When she looked over at her great aunt, the older woman was stifling laughter.
“It’s not funny.” Carla kept her voice low.
“What are you doing here, for real?” The room was large, but Jonah’s voice bounced off the walls and enveloped her in its gruffness.
“She’s here to spruce things up.” Lola answered for her.
“You didn’t mention it.” Jonah’s brow furrowed, and it killed Carla, but it made his face even more compelling.
“Since when are you a member of the family, Mr. Kane?” Carla flipped her hair over her shoulder. “This is family business.”
“I care about Lola.” Jonah stuck his fork into his food so it stood upright, which felt to Carla like a gambit to intimidate her. “That’s enough.”
“I’m not here to hurt her. I’m not here to hurt anyone.” Despite herself, she felt her eyes burn. She didn’t have to answer to him, but the way he examined her and found her lacking made her skin itch. She’d never hated someone on sight before—not until now. What made her even angrier was the bone-deep knowledge that she would still have sex with him, even if she wanted to stab him the entire time.