Sold on You Page 2

  Those two simple words made Gabriela's pulse quicken. She hadn't planned on dancing with Dr. Calderon tonight, but she couldn't exactly refuse. She took a long sip of champagne and didn't let on how much she loved to dance. "Are you sure you want to?"

  "Absolutely," he replied, his eyes warm and inviting.

  His fit body moved with lithe grace as he led her to the dance floor with his hand at the back of her waist. Gabriela looked around and admired how elegant the other guests looked in their evening attire. With a pang of regret, she glanced at her brown suit and red stilettos and felt a hysterical giggle bubble up inside her at how ridiculously out of place she looked in the lavish ballroom. Oh well, it was worth the shock on Marcos' face. She'd only done it to give him a hard time.

  When they approached the dance floor, the music slowed to a tango. The first strains of music brought Gabriela back to a poignant memory when she was ten and her father had taught her to dance the tango. The following week, her mother had left him and Gabriela hadn't found out why until she was much older. Squelching the bittersweet memory from her mind, Gabriela sucked in her breath when Marcos took her in his strong arms and began to masterfully move to the stirring melody.

  Marcos led her and she had no choice but to follow, increasingly aware of his large hand firmly splayed at the small of her back and his lean hipbones pressed against hers. Up close he smelled divine and he danced exceptionally well—she had to give him that much. It took a skilled dancer to execute the tango with such long, elegant steps.

  "Where did you learn to tango so well?" she asked breathlessly, her pulse fluttering wildly.

  "My Argentinean grandmother taught me."

  "Your grandmother?"

  "Yeah, she raised me."

  "That explains everything."

  "What do you mean?" he asked, dipping her effortlessly.

  Her face flushed pink from the dip, Gabriela said, "You're spoiled rotten. I'll bet your grandma let you believe the sun rises and sets with you."

  "Why so antagonistic?" His voice was a low growl in her ear as his arms held her close.

  Gabriela tried to pull back, but he gripped her securely and rested his sharp jaw against her temple. "You're used to getting everything you want," she said, trying to ignore the giddy rush of excitement he stirred inside her.

  Marcos ignored her barb and led her through more intricate steps. She gave as good as she got, her body fused with his in the passionate dance. A crowd gathered round to watch and Gabriela was sure her face was tinted deep pink. It didn't help that her whole body pulsed with excitement as his masterful moves stoked a fire deep in her belly.

  Alex called out from the crowd of onlookers. "Save a dance for me, Gabriela. I'm a better dancer than Marcos," he taunted merrily.

  "Ignore him," Marcos said. "You're my date tonight."

  "Only because you outbid everyone, flaunting your money," she retorted, her breaths coming out fast.

  Marcos flashed a wry grin. "My grandmother is going to love you."

  Gabriela's feet missed a beat. "Your grandmother?"

  He nodded. "She's flying all the way from Buenos Aires to meet my fiancée. That's where you come in."

  Gabriela leaned her head back and squinted at Marcos with suspicious eyes. "Why?"

  "I need you to pretend to be my fiancée this weekend."

  "No way. I'm not doing it!" she said fiercely. She pulled back with a jerky movement, but Marcos held her steadfastly and the crowd cheered. Gabriela blushed furiously realizing they were encouraging Marcos to turn their tango into a dance of dominance.

  "Don't be difficult. The old lady is eighty-five and wants me to get married before she dies," he muttered through a tight smile.

  "Why did you pick me and not one of your flavors of the month?"

  "You're Latina. And you're conservative with old-fashioned values."

  She bristled with affront. Who did he think he was, judging her like that?

  "I'm not old-fashioned. You only know me from work," Gabriela retorted. To prove it, she wrapped her leg around Marcos' lean hip in a stylized tango move. He responded by tilting her body backward until her straining bosom was directly beneath his face. The blood in her veins heated and her heartbeat pounded at the dark, smoldering look in his eyes. Gabriela's leg quivered as she tucked her foot behind Marcos' leg and slid it down, feeling the hard length of his thigh and calf muscles beneath the tuxedo pants.

  "You're right, I don't know anything about your personal life," he conceded in a rough whisper, lowering his face toward hers. "What matters is how you appear to Abuelita Coqui. That's her name by the way."

  Marcos' lips were so close to hers, Gabriela's breath caught in her throat. "Don't you.... feel guilty... um... lying to her?" she faltered, trying to ignore her overheated body,

  "I'm doing it to make the old lady happy before she dies."

  "You just want to save your hide," she said, gathering enough gumption to give a scornful toss of her head.

  Marcos tightened his hold on Gabriela. When she retaliated with a haughty stare, his face came closer until his perfect nose nearly touched the tip of her upturned one. "Will you do it?"

  The music ended and the audience clapped enthusiastically. "No," Gabriela said and headed to the table on wobbly legs, wondering if they'd carry her back to the table without buckling. Her head was spinning from Marcos' outrageous plan while her senses reeled madly after the sensual dance he'd performed so flawlessly. Without turning, she was vividly aware of Marcos following behind her.

  "If you refuse, I'll have to find someone else," he said as soon as they were seated.

  Just like that? He was already dumping her and they hadn't even finished dinner, all because she refused to play along with cockamamie idea. "Your plan bothers me on every level," she said, giving him a stern look.

  "I heard the Fresh Start Center is hurting for funds," he said as his unwavering gaze coolly waited for her reaction.

  Gabriela sighed with frustration. "It is. Why else do you think I'd agree to being auctioned off?"

  "It would be a terrible shame for them to lose out on all that money," he said, keeping a keen eye on her.

  Damn him! He drove a hard bargain. Gabriela frowned as she mulled it over. He was right, she'd hate to deny the charity his donation... but pretending to be his fiancée was a tall order...

  "Won't you do it for the charity?" he asked, his tone persuasive and velvet smooth.

  "Let me think about it," she said airily.

  Gabriela dug into the chocolate raspberry mousse and savored it without looking at him. Her hips didn't need the added calories, but her nerves needed the indulgence. Dom Perignon, dessert, and a suave, handsome escort. This should have been a dream date, but the sly doctor was trying to coerce her into lying to his grandmother!

  Marcos leaned back and studied her with probing eyes. "You don't seem to have a very high opinion of me."

  His blunt statement reminded her of the times she'd butted heads with him over the allotment of hospital funds. Somehow, he'd always managed to pare down the sum she requested for her unwed mothers.

  "Can you blame me? I'm not impressed by your reasons for duping your grandma," she said in an equally blunt tone.

  "Fair enough. Let me explain." He forcefully exhaled his breath. "Ever since my little sister, Marisol, got married and had the twins, Abuelita Coqui's sole purpose in life has been to get me married. I was planning on visiting her in Buenos Aires for Christmas, but when I learned she was going to play matchmaker, I told her I was already in love and engaged to be married." He groaned. "I never imagined she'd book a trip here instead—during Christmas no less—to meet a fiancée who doesn't exist."

  "Aw, poor guy," Gabriela said and enjoyed watching him get hot under the collar. "What about your parents and the rest of your family?"

  "I only have one sister and she lives in Miami. I can handle her. As far as my parents, they have no idea about my personal life. The most important one to please is Abuelita Coqui."

  Gabriela wondered at his disdainful tone when he'd mentioned his parents, but she decided not to go there. Clearly, he had a soft spot for his grandma and that was kind of endearing. But his tactics for making her happy were skewed in his favor.

  "I don't believe in lying to an elderly woman. On the other hand, I don't see how I can refuse, given your generous donation." She emitted a long-suffering sigh. "I guess I'll have to agree." It was only one weekend.

  His face lit up with a triumphant smile. "Good. You won't regret your decision."

  She gave him a pointed look. "Let's be clear on one thing. The date officially ends on Sunday evening."

  "No problem. My grandmother will only be here for the weekend," he said. "Marisol and her husband Clay will pick her up and return to Miami on the same day."

  "Fine. It's a deal then," Gabriela said, washing down the last spoonful of creamy mousse with a long sip of champagne.

  "There is one more thing..." he said hesitantly.

  "What?" she asked, narrowing suspicious eyes at him.

  "No offense, but we need to give you a make-over."

  How rude of him.

  "You know what? You're delusional if you think you're going to give me a make-over!" she huffed.

  He smiled. "Pity, I was going to offer you my Saks credit card for a new, glamorous wardrobe."

  "What's wrong with the way I dress?" she demanded.

  "I prefer the red hot number you were in earlier. Why do you dress so primly all the time?"

  "I want to be taken seriously." She'd had size 36C breasts and a curvy bottom since she'd turned twelve and it hadn't been a picnic fending off sexist men and their remarks.

  "We won't get you anything blatantly sexy. Just an elegant, st
ylish wardrobe," he said smoothly.

  "What makes you the fashion expert, Tim Gunn?"

  "I'm holding the wallet and I have good taste," he said confidently.

  "Gee, how did I get so lucky?" she quipped, even though she was bristling inside. She could feel her mouth tightening and steam about to come out of her ears, but she forced her features into a cool façade.

  Part of her was insulted by the cocky doctor's cavalier offer, but the other part was strangely tempted. Free rein on his credit card? She'd have to be a fool not to take him up on it. She'd never been able to spend much on clothes since most of her paycheck went toward paying for her hard-earned beach apartment. Her one, sinful indulgence was beautiful lingerie... but he'd never know about that one.

  "All right," she said, hiding a wily smile. She was going to make him pay through his teeth for his arrogance.

  "There's one condition."

  "What is it?"

  "I go with you."

  She frowned at him. "Why? Don't you trust me with your credit card?"

  "I don't trust your wardrobe choices. The only thing that keeps you from looking like a nun in that drab brown suit is the red stilettos," he said with a wry shake of his head.

  Okay, so she wasn't a fashionista, but the last person she would want to help her select a wardrobe was Marcos Calderon.

  Nevertheless, it was a bit unrealistic to expect him to just hand over his credit card. Since he was eager to spend money on making her over into what his grandma would approve of, why not indulge in a wardrobe she could ill afford?

  "I guess you can come along," she said after making him wait for her reply. "But I have final say on what we buy."

  He winked at her. "We'll compromise."

  "Fine," she said, not thrilled that Marcos had managed to turn everything around to suit him.

  Gabriela gazed at the too handsome man before her and wondered what she'd signed up for.

  Chapter 3

  Savoring the crisp beauty of a clear December morning, Gabriela sipped her steaming cafe con leche as she stood on her balcony overlooking the palm-tree-lined street. A light breeze wafting in from the ocean chilled her flesh, still warm from her recent shower. The ocean air made her think of her mother sailing the Mediterranean Sea on a honeymoon cruise right now. She chuckled, remembering how her mother had dragged her along on a Caribbean cruise last summer with every intention of finding a mate for Gabriela. But instead, it was her matchmaking mother who had ended up meeting her future husband.

  She was delighted that her mom, who'd worked hard all her life to provide a good life for her, had finally found happiness. Smiling to herself, she pushed a damp tendril out of her eyes and froze when she saw a tall man with an athletic build get out of a silver Porsche Carrera convertible. He shut the door and ambled toward the sidewalk leading to her apartment building. She hadn't put on her contact lenses and couldn't quite make out his features, but the self-confident swagger tipped her off to his identity.

  Marcos Calderon!

  She was about to turn and run inside when he looked up and waved, flashing a broad smile. What was he up to? It was only eight o'clock in the morning, two hours shy of the time they had agreed to meet at the Waterside Shops.

  Marcos must have run up the stairs because just as she headed to her bedroom to dress, she heard an insistent knock on her front door. It would serve him right if she ignored his summons, she told herself grouchily. But after the fifth hard knock, it was obvious he wasn't going to give up and leave.

  Looking down at her rose chenille robe, Gabriela pulled the sash tighter and reached for the door handle. She peered through the peephole and then opened it a crack, leaving the chain lock intact. Marcos' handsome, tanned face leaned forward.

  "Hola," he said, taking off his sunglasses.

  "You're too early," she said, annoyed.

  His hazel eyes met hers with an apologetic twinkle. "I know, but things have changed."

  "Oh?" She tilted her head to study him with cool appraisal. "Have you changed your mind about the weekend?"

  "Not a chance." His dark brows drew together. "We need to talk. May I come inside?"

  "I'm not properly dressed," she hedged, pulling her robe lapels closer together. She was naked underneath, save for red silk panties, one of her favorites from the holiday lingerie she enjoyed wearing at Christmastime.

  The corners of Marcos' firm mouth lifted into a half smile. "You're decent enough. Please let me in."

  "I'm not in the custom of letting strange men into my apartment."

  His raised eyebrow, accompanied by a warning look, told her he wasn't amused. "I'm not a stranger. Now quit playing coy. This is important."

  With an audible sigh, she unhooked the chain and pushed the door open. "All right. Come in."

  "Thank you."

  Marcos strolled past her and made himself comfortable on her bisque microfiber sofa. He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. Long fingers clasped before him, he watched her with brooding eyes.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, sitting across from him on the matching love seat.

  "Guess who already arrived."

  "Abuelita Coqui?" she guessed from the uneasy set of his features.

  "Bingo."

  "But we're not ready for her," she said, caught up in his scheme.

  "Precisely. She arrived in Miami last night, a day sooner than expected. My sister is bringing her here around five—today!"

  Gabriela expelled her pent-up breath. "Oh no!"

  His assessing gaze briskly swept over her. "We need to buy you a new wardrobe."

  "But it's only eight. The stores don't open till ten."

  "You have a salon appointment first to get your make-up done and have your hair fixed."

  He was getting on her last nerve! Gabriela threw a pillow at him. He dodged it with a surprised, "hey!"

  "What's wrong with my hair, Professor Higgins?"

  "Nothing. It's beautiful when you wear it down, but you always have it pulled back. I'm offering you the best stylist in Naples."

  "According to whom?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

  "My sister, Marisol. She owns a top beauty salon in Miami Beach. If you hurry up, I'll throw in a manicure and pedicure."

  "I'll take the mani pedi, but I don't want anyone touching my hair," she said mulishly. "John is the only stylist who knows how to handle my hair, and he's out of town."

  "We don't have time for you to be picky. Marisol said Joelly is the best stylist in Naples. We're lucky that she agreed to open early just to accommodate you. Now hurry up!" he said, softening his order with a persuasive smile.

  Gabriela nodded. "Fine, but you have to give me enough time to put my contacts in." She smirked. "Unless you want me to wear my horn-rim glasses. Does Abuelita have anything against glasses?"

  "I'll wait," Marcos said, ignoring her cheeky question.

  "You can help yourself to coffee in the kitchen."

  "Thanks." He couldn't take his eyes off Gabriela as she left the room with her dark, lustrous hair curling in long, damp swirls around her shoulders. His pulse beat kicked up as he watched the rhythmic sway of a heart-shaped backside that flared below a tiny waist. Damn, those were dangerous curves. He smiled, remembering how her full breasts had pushed against the soft fabric of her robe, her nipples tight buds beneath. The image made him grow hard. He forced a mental picture of Abuelita Coqui giving him a disapproving look to help distract him from Gabriela's charms.

  While she got ready, Marcos surveyed her small apartment. It was decorated in pastel shades and the décor looked like an ad for Pottery Barn with its eclectic array of glass, iron, and light wood furniture. Verdigris urns of carefully tended ferns and watercolor paintings lent a cheerful ambiance. The cozy living room connected to a dining room overlooking a small, Mexican-tiled courtyard.

  In a corner of the room, a tall evergreen twinkled with bright Christmas ornaments. Marcos inhaled deeply, enjoying the fresh pine scent. He glanced at the Nativity set on the glass coffee table before him, realizing that Christmas was just two weeks away. He probably should have done some sort of holiday decorating to welcome Abuelita Coqui, but he hadn't thought of it until now, seeing Gabriela's festive decor.

  Fifteen minutes later, Gabriela returned to the room with her hair pulled back in a sleek braid. Her lush lips glistened with the barest pink lip gloss and she wore small gold loops on her delicate earlobes. Marcos strove to hide his disappointment that she'd hidden her sexy curves under an oversize navy cotton sweater paired with jeans.