Chapter Seven
Lilí watched Diego underneath her lashes as he played his classical Spanish guitar in a private concert, for her.
His handsome face was a study in concentration and relaxation. As if the music demanded his attention while easing his stress. The fingers of his right hand deftly strummed and plucked the six nylon strings. At the same time, the fingers on his left fluctuated between pressure and release as they crawled along the strings running up the guitar’s fretboard. The muscles in his forearms danced and shifted with the motions.
The strong rhythmic tones of the flamenco music alternated between wild-mustang fast and languidly slow. Exciting and lulling. Frantic and calm.
Exactly how she felt around him.
Eyes closed, Diego strummed as if the music moved through him. The same way it had with Papi when he’d played with his trío group, Los Paisanos.
The mix of notes and chords flowed over her. Reassuring in its familiarity.
Music had always been a huge part of her family life when she was growing up. Whether she’d been down in the basement studying during Los Paisanos rehearsals, heading to a gig with her father, or joining him at the mic for a song or two if the venue allowed it.
In the four years since Papi’s death, she hadn’t sat like this, sharing the intimacy of listening to someone play who physically relished the beauty and wonder of live music as much as she did.
Longing and pain clogged her throat. Tears burned her eyes.
Tears evoked by the memory of losing Papi, the devastation cancer had inflicted on her and her sisters. Tears for Karen. And Melba. For all the women who came into the clinic seeking assistance. And tears of awe, for this shared love of music and the connections it brought to life.
With each chord Diego played, her tension ebbed. The anxiety caused by the what-ifs she hadn’t been able to purge after Tito’s attack finally drifted away. The passion in Diego’s movements, the muscles in his arms and hands flexing, straining as he caressed and commanded the music from his guitar, melted all the negativity away.
The tempo picked up its pace. The notes raced to a powerful crescendo, only for him to tease her with several languid, final plucks of the guitar’s strings, drawing the tune to a melancholy close.
Silence descended. She watched as his upper body relaxed, the music working its magic on him, the same as it did with her.
Diego’s eyes drifted open. He shot her a sheepish smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he caught her watching him.
“You said play my favorite.” His left hand slid up and down the guitar’s neck in a loving gesture that made her envious. “I can’t seem to play that song without falling into the notes. Losing myself a bit.”
“That was beautiful,” she whispered, reaching up to swipe a tear trailing down her cheek. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“Hey, you’re crying?” He lowered his guitar like he meant to set it aside. “I didn’t realize I was that bad.”
She chuckled. “Keep playing. You know you’re good.”
He winked at her, the playful gesture making her belly flip-flop.
“You said you started at the youth center. How old were you?” she asked.
“Ten. Stumbled into an empty classroom and there sat Carlos Nieves. Retired music teacher and accomplished guitarist. Taught me everything I know. Bueno, first Carlos, then years later, when the beaches of Florida lured him south and I joined the army, I turned to videos on the internet.”
“I’ll have to thank Carlos if he ever makes it back up here for a visit.”
Sadness descended over Diego’s face before he shook it away. “I wish you could. He died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Pancreatic cancer. He went quickly. But not before we made one last trip to the beach together.” He stared straight ahead, a faraway look in his brown eyes as if he was picturing the memory. “Feet in the sand, rum and cokes chilling beside us, we played till our fingers ached. Then played a little more.”
He strummed his guitar, emitting a doleful chord. “Cancer took my dad a little over four years ago,” she shared, lured by Diego’s own reminiscing. “He would have loved listening to you play.”
“Oh yeah? Was he into music?”
She nodded, snuggling deeper into the back sofa cushion, feeling content for the first time all evening. “He played guitar and was the lead singer in a trío group. Los Paisanos.”
“Hold on!” Diego’s fingers ceased their strumming. Surprise widened his eyes. “Did they play a few times at the Fiestas Puertorriqueñas in Humboldt Park?”
Lilí nodded, her heart swelling with pride that Diego remembered Los Paisanos and the several times they’d been invited to perform at Chicago’s Puerto Rican Festival. Papi would have been so proud. After his family and his religion, Papi’s devotion had been to music and the other two men in the trío, Pablo and André.
“I remember hearing them. Ten, twelve years ago, maybe?”
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” she agreed.
Nostalgia wrapped her in its warm embrace and she snuggled into it, remembering the gigs Papi and Los Paisanos had played.
“I can’t believe that was your dad. They were great!” Diego’s awe eased the ever-present sorrow when Lilí thought of Papi and how he’d been taken from them much too soon.
“My mom used to make me get up and dance to one of their romances with her.” He jabbed a hand through his short hair, sliding it down to knead the muscles in the back of his neck. “Said it took her back to the Island and brought great memories of her childhood in Puerto Rico.”
“It did the same for my parents.”
They shared a soft smile, the unbreakable bonds of music tying them together. First years ago with their respective parents. Now with each other.
“I haven’t thought about those times in a while,” Diego said, more to himself than her.
Lilí followed his line of sight to a framed family portrait hanging on the wall to the left of his big-screen TV. A middle school–aged Diego flashed that cocky grin of his. On one side of him stood an older woman who shared his same nose and eyes. On the other, her arm wrapped around Diego’s shoulder, stood a teen-aged girl Lilí assumed was the sister he had mentioned once, before quickly changing the subject.
“I don’t play standards very often, but I’ve learned quite a few over time,” Diego said. Regret stamped his features as his gaze remained glued to his family’s picture. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
Empathy welled within her as she watched him struggle with whatever memory their conversation had unburied.
When he spoke, his voice was gruff with emotion. “This song, ah man, how my mamá loved it.”
The fingers of his left hand curled around the fretboard. He swiveled his right wrist as if to loosen it, then strummed the first notes.
Love, regret, and grief crested like a tidal wave in Lilí’s chest when she recognized Mami and Papi’s wedding song. The one her father had sung to her mom every year on their anniversary. Or when he had pissed her off and was trying to get back in her good graces.
Lilí had known the words to “Somos Novios” probably long before she could sing her ABCs. When she’d gotten older, she’d even performed it with Los Paisanos a time or two.
But she hadn’t listened to this song since Papi’s passing.
Now, the words were pulled from her as if Papi had reached down from heaven, handed her a microphone, and asked her to sing for him.
Eyes squeezed shut to ward off the threat of impending tears, Lilí took a deep breath. With the vision of Mami and Papi’s love giving her strength, Lilí joined in, midway through the first verse.
The music halted abruptly. Lilí slanted a questioning glance at Diego.
He gazed back at her, his face colored by surprise.
“You mind if I sing while you play?” she asked softly.
He gave a mute shake of his head, so she motioned for him to continue.
When Diego started back up, Lilí closed her eyes again and sang from her heart.
* * *
Diego watched, mesmerized by the sight and sound of Lilí Fernandez crooning his mom’s favorite love song. The one she’d begged him to learn. Then once he did, she’d made him play it for her. Every single day.
Man, she would have loved listening to Lilí sing. Strong and pure, rich and soulful, soft and sincere when the lyrics called for it, Lilí’s voice filled his living room, wormed its way into his heart. The words spoke of a profound love shared by two sweethearts. Of stolen kisses and desire kindled. Of occasional spats, as lovers have, and stolen moments in the dark.
He’d heard the lyrics thousands of times before. Never had they meant as much to him as they did in this moment.
Lilí held him spellbound. Head thrown back, veins straining in her throat. Fists clenched in her lap as if she fought to rein in the power of the song and its control over her.
Others had joined him in singing plenty of times in the past. Bored in the barracks when he was in the army, sing-alongs had helped pass the time. Sometimes guys asked him to play simply to ease the lonely quiet. He’d been happy to oblige.
As a kid, the more he improved, the more he’d been hired to play at church and community events. He’d even landed a job at a tapas restaurant in high school. Strumming his guitar sure beat the hell out of washing dishes or waiting tables like he did on the nights the restaurant didn’t offer live music. Not to mention the tips were way better.
But never, in all his years and all his gigs, had he experienced this weird sense of connection with someone singing to his accompaniment. This sense of certainty that the way music made him come alive was reciprocated in her. As if together, they could re-create the emotions, the sensuality. Bringing the lyrics to life.
Gracias a Dios he could play this song in his sleep. He was so mesmerized by Lilí he barely remembered playing the chords.
“‘. . . somos novios. Siempre novios.’”
Lilí’s husky voice drew out the final words as his fingers strummed the last notes. The idea of the two of them always being lovers, as if the words she sang referred to something they shared, set his heart pounding faster.
Desire swooped over him with white-hot flames only she could extinguish.
The remnants of the music drifted over them, slowly fading until all that remained was its memory. Lilí sat perfectly still, eyes closed as if she wanted to hold on to the moment.
The air around them lay heavy and thick, charged with emotions. A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye to trail down her cheek. And still, she remained motionless.
Inexorably drawn to her, Diego laid his guitar on the floor next to his chair, then moved to join Lilí on the couch.
She startled when the cushion gave under his weight. Sadness tinged with gratitude shone in her beautiful eyes as he cupped her cheek and brushed her tear away with the pad of his thumb.
A corner of her luscious mouth curved as she told him, “I’m not usually this much of a sob fest.”
“You keep this up, you’re going to give me a complex. I swear I’m not that bad.”
“No, you’re not.” She put her hand over his on her cheek, leaning into his touch. “You play beautifully. It’s just, that song . . .”
Her voice cracked on the last word and she broke off. Her lids fluttered closed for a moment, then opened to reveal a look of such pure longing, she might as well have reached into his chest and squeezed his heart with her fist.
Their gazes locked, Diego slowly leaned toward her, allowing her the opportunity to back away, to let him know if he was misreading the signs and was completely off base.
Instead, she met him halfway.
Their lips touched in the lightest of kisses. Testing. Tasting. A brief sample of the pleasure they could give the other.
Lilí’s free hand fisted in his T-shirt, pulling him closer. That was all the encouragement he needed.
With a groan Diego slid his palm from her cheek to the back of her neck, cradling her head as his lips devoured hers. He licked her bottom lip and she opened for him. Her tongue brushed his, sensual and seeking.
She tasted tangy and sweet and all he could think of was more. He wanted more.
As if she’d read his mind, Lilí scooted closer.
Encouraged by her soft moan of pleasure, he grabbed her waist, lifting her to sit on his lap.
She yelped in surprise. Then her arms were around his shoulders, her fingers splaying into his hair as she pulled his head to hers. She nipped at his lips. Tiny teasing kisses, until he growled, desire driving him. She answered by deepening the kiss.
He palmed her hip, his thumb sliding under her blouse to brush the bare flesh along her jeans waistline. Warm and soft, it tempted him to explore the rest of her tantalizing body.
Breaking their kiss, Diego trailed his lips across her jaw, down the smooth column of her throat. He gave in to the temptation to sneak a lick of her warm skin.
“Mmmm, you taste delicious,” he murmured.
Lilí answered by arching back, giving him full access to continue his exploration. Not one to be shy, or pass up an invitation he’d been dreaming about for nights, Diego obliged.
Her shirt slipped off her shoulder at the same time his hand slid from her trim waist, up her rib cage to cup her breast. The top edge of her cream-colored lace bra peeked out of her wide shirt collar and he tugged the cup down to reveal her breast’s rosy peak.
She moaned again, arching back against the sofa arm behind her.
Blood surged low in his body and he hardened, desperate for what she offered.
He took her into his mouth, his tongue laving her pert nipple. His palm held on to her back, pressing her closer to him as he suckled and teased, a man starving for the sweet satisfaction only she could give.
“Yes,” she whispered, her body writhing with every flick of his tongue. “Más. I need more.”
Her words echoed his thoughts and Diego tugged her collar lower, ready to lavish attention on her other breast. Lilí pushed at his shoulders and he glanced up, afraid he might be moving too fast. Prepared to stop if she said so.
Instead, she reached for the hem of her blouse, tugging it up and over her head. She tossed the orange material across the room, where it floated through the air to land in a heap near the front door.
Before he realized her intent, she twisted on his lap to straddle him, placing her knees on either side of his hips. With her lower body pressed intimately against his and the way he strained against his zipped jeans, no way she could not know how badly he wanted her.
Her gaze caught on his. Intense. Searching. Passion turning her eyes more green than hazel.
Silently she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, freeing her breasts for him to feast on.
He sucked in a breath, desperate to control the overpowering urge to flip her onto the couch and bury himself deep inside her.
She was absolutely beautiful. Her silky black hair disheveled. Lips full and swollen from their kisses. Her neck and chest bloomed with color from the scratch of his late-day scruff.
His mark on her fired his blood. Made him strain for release.
Unable to resist anymore, he cupped her breasts with his hands, kneading and plucking as her nipples pebbled against his palms. Her whimper nearly undid him.
He bent his head to taste her again. Dragging in a breath, he filled his lungs with her tropical scent. An aphrodisiac that drove him to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking and laving until she bucked in his lap.
She ground against him, the material of their jeans a barrier between them that both frustrated and heightened his senses. His mouth moved from one breast to the other, a starving man, desperate to taste all that was being offered.
She bucked against him, over and over, the rhythm driven by their mutual desire. Her breaths came faster, her breathing ragged as she ground into him. Her pleasure-filled murmurs drove him. He craved more of her. Needed to give more to her.
“Yes, yes!” she moaned as he made love to her breasts.
Savoring, fondling, greedily accepting what she willingly gave him. He tugged a nipple into his mouth again, gently grazing it with his teeth and she cried out.
Suddenly her body tensed. She ground her crotch against his and cried out his name on a moan of ecstasy.
He felt her tense as the orgasm gripped her, the muscles in her thighs clenching his hips. Grabbing on to her waist, he held her as she rode the wave, head thrown back in abandon.
Her body melted with the last of its release and she bent toward him. Laying her head on his shoulder, she buried her face in his neck.
Her breathing slowed as Diego caressed her back, gently skimming his fingertips up and down her spine.
“Dios mío, I can’t remember the last time I dry humped on a living room couch.” Lilí mumbled the words against his throat, her lips tickling him.
He chuckled. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
“Stop it.” She hit him lightly on the chest. “That could not have been anywhere near as good for you. I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” He tipped her chin up so she would look at him. “Being here like this suits me just fine.”
She craned her head to kiss him. A slow, languid tease of her lips that fueled his lust for her. When she pulled back, she gifted him with a seductive smile. It morphed into an unexpected shyness seconds before she buried her face in his neck once more.
Diego looped his arms around her, savoring the warmth of her body nestled against him. She pressed a soft kiss to the sensitive spot behind his ear and he shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure straining beneath his zipper.
“‘Somos Novios’ was my parents’ wedding song,” Lilí said, her voice husky with emotion. “Papi used to sing it to Mami every year on their anniversary.”
“I’m sure she loved it.”
“Sí, she did.” Lilí rubbed her palm over his left pec, then slid her hand over to trace the crown of thorns tattoo wrapped around his biceps. Diego let his eyes drift closed, enjoying her touch. The desire she evoked pulsed through him.
“Mami would get teary-eyed by the end of the song,” Lilí continued, no doubt unaware of the affect her featherlight touch had on him. Then again, the bulge pressing into her crotch might be a clue.
“So the tears are a family tradition, then, huh?” he teased.
She huffed out a gentle laugh. Her soft breath warm along his neck.
“Then Papi’d wrap her in his arms and they’d kiss. Sometimes enough to make my sisters and me groan at the PDA.”
“Somehow I doubt their public display of affection ended like this,” he teased. “At least, not in front of you girls.”
They shared a laugh before settling into a comfortable silence. He, enjoying the rightness of holding her in his arms like this.
As if someone flicked on a flashlight, illuminating a dark corner in his heart, he realized he hadn’t felt this relaxed with another person in a long, long time. Here he’d been trying to comfort her. And yet, she’d managed to touch him.
“You’re pretty amazing, sabes?” he told her.
He felt her shake her head against his shoulder.
“I was scared tonight,” she murmured. “I freaked out, and for a second, I forgot everything I know.”
“Fear’s natural. But your instincts kicked in and you fought back.” Gently he rubbed his hand in small circles along her back. “What you’re doing with the girls at the center, that’s really good. I wish—”
He broke off, shocked he’d started to go there with her.
“You wish what?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter now.”
“Come on. Tell me.” She nuzzled his neck. Worming her way deeper into his heart.
“It’s not something I normally talk about with . . .” She stiffened, then sat up to shoot him a frown. “With who? Women you bring home to fool around with?”
Too late he realized the way his words could be misinterpreted.
“Never mind. Forget I asked.” Hurt flashed in her eyes as she leaned to the side to roll off his lap.
He grabbed on to her hips, holding her still. Lilí narrowed her eyes at him in a challenge.
“It’s not something I normally talk about with anyone,” he admitted. “It’s a personal problem I’m handling. Sort of.”
“Did you stop to think working through similar issues with individuals and families is what I do for a living? You know, working through their personal problems.”
He pressed his lips together. Annoyed with himself for bringing this up. For even thinking about Lourdes when he’d found a few moments of peace with Lilí.
She moved to slide off his lap again and he tightened his grip. “Come on. Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not,” she said. “This sounds like it’s going to be a serious discussion, because you are going to tell me what’s bugging you. But I feel at a slight disadvantage here. So either you’re going to take off your shirt or I’m going to put on mine. And I have a feeling that if you take off your shirt, we won’t do much talking.”
“But that would be a lot more fun.” He gave her a hopeful smile, looking to distract her.
“Nice try, Romeo. Now let me up.” She patted his chest and he released her.
Lilí reached down to the floor to snag her bra strap with a finger, then slid off his lap to sit next to him. He watched her slip the straps over her shoulders, then rise to retrieve her orange blouse by the front door.
The fun was definitely over. Any conversation involving his sister was never pleasant. More like, stress-inducing.
Pissed at his inability to keep his trap shut when things had been progressing so well with Lilí, Diego scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration.
The sofa cushions dipped as Lilí sat beside him. “Okay, now talk. What do you wish?”
He gave an exasperated huff and fell back against the sofa. “No good comes of wishing. Not about the past anyway.”
“But good comes from talking. Letting out whatever’s eating you up inside.”
“Says the counselor.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Head resting against the back cushion, Diego gave her a sideways glance.
Lilí sat cross-legged, hands on top of her knees, her expression all calm patience. And determination.
He knew that look. Had stared it down in Melba’s living room when he’d tried telling Lilí it wasn’t wise to take the other woman home with her. Fat lot of good his arguing had done then.
She wasn’t going to rest until he spit something out.
“I wish my sister, Lourdes, would have had someone like you in her life when she was the same age as Omara and her group.”
“Thank you,” Lilí answered. She tilted her head, considering him. “Why?”
He grimaced, certain “Because” wasn’t an answer that would satisfy her curiosity.
Turning to stare up at the ceiling, he let his mind go back to those years, and all the ones leading up to today. He avoided the years when he’d been away in the army, fraught with doubts about whether enlisting had been a smart decision on his part. His mom wanted him to go to college. The GI Bill had seemed like the best way to make that happen.
But the shit his sister had pulled while he was gone. The stress she’d caused their mom. It made his blood boil. That he hadn’t been here to step in, ease some of his mami’s burden was a guilt he’d carry with him always. Something else to blame his sister for.
“The problem is, wishing won’t change what happened back then. Or how messed up things are now,” he muttered.
“So I take it things aren’t good between you and your sister?”
Understatement of the year. He hadn’t heard from her in a couple months and the last number she’d given him had been disconnected. The only reason he knew was because he’d tried calling in a weak moment last night after Lilí’s self-defense class.
“Have you two ever tried counseling?” she asked. Her voice had taken on that smooth, reasonable tone you used when trying to rationalize with an unstable perp or a CI wavering on whether or not he wanted to spill the info you needed for a case.
That she’d so easily gone from sensual lover to cool clinician irked him.
“I’m not the one who needs therapy. She is. But as if dragging her ass to rehab isn’t hard enough, getting her to stay in the program is a damn joke.”
“You can’t make her go. Or stay.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He lifted his arms like the solution might fall out of the sky and drop right into them. Instead he plopped his empty arms back onto his lap in disgust. “Here’s what I know. There’s a definite line between right and wrong. And for a long time now, my sister has chosen to live on the opposite side of where I stand.”
“It’s not always so black and white.”
“Tell it to the judge when she gets hauled in.”
“Diego—”
She broke off when he pushed up from the couch, exasperated with their conversation.
“Look, I get that you want to see the good in everything. In everyone,” he said, stepping around the coffee table to pace toward the front windows.
A sense of inevitability ratcheted up inside him. A reminder of why it’d been a mistake to bring her here. To give in to temptation with her.
Lilí would never be able to understand him because she had never lived through what he had. What he still did. The heavy weight of guilt he couldn’t shake when it came to his messed up family life made him weary. Pissed off.
A large part of him was thankful she hadn’t experienced this type of disillusion. It hardened a person. Lilí’s positivity was part of her essence. It drew him like the shore calls the tide.
It also scared the hell out of him because it sparked a tiny flame of hope in a quiet corner of his soul. One that had burned him in the past.
Refusing to go that route again, Diego spun back around to face Lilí. “But no matter what you say, there’s no good in my situation.”
“What if you—”
“Look, I understand why you think you can do something here. But frankly, this isn’t any of your concern.”
Lilí flinched at his gruff words.
He dragged a hand through his hair, despising himself, but determined to protect her. Carajo, why did the problems with Lourdes have to poison everything? Hell, indeed.
Rather than back down, Lilí straightened her spine, her expression cool and distant. He preferred her hot and bothered.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe this isn’t my business. But you’re my friend, or . . .” She scowled, an embarrassed flush darkening her cheeks. “Or, whatever we are. So if I can help in some way, I’m here. As long as you don’t act like an ass.”
“Duly noted. I appreciate the offer.” Though he wouldn’t avail himself of her counseling services. Not when he’d much rather avail himself of her sexy body. Preferably in his bedroom. Naked. On his king-size bed.
She must have read his mind or understood the “not gonna happen” subtext of his response because her mouth twisted with derision.
“Forget it.” Uncrossing her legs, she shoved her feet in her sandals. “Once again, I don’t know why I expected something different. You’re all the same.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” She bent down to buckle her shoe straps, dismissing his question.
Hands on his hips, he matched her glare with one of his own.
Before he could press her for an explanation, a popular salsa tune chimed from Lilí’s messenger bag where she’d dropped it next to the sofa. At the same time, his cell vibrated in his back jeans pocket.
She reached for her bag and he pulled out his phone. When he saw the number scrolling on his screen, he slid his thumb across it to answer.
“Reyes here, what’s up?” He listened to his buddy on the other end of the line while keeping an eye on Lilí, who was more than likely speaking to another cop on her cell. He knew the moment she heard the news.
She sucked in an audible breath. Fear, followed quickly by anger and grit, flashed across her delicate features.
Her gaze came up to meet his.
“Reyes, did you hear me?” his buddy asked.
“Yeah, I heard you,” he answered. “I know where Lilí Fernandez is. We’ll be down there shortly. She won’t have any problem IDing Tito Gonzáles.”