The porch had a beautiful view of the beach—windswept grass, soft sand, and a driftwood lined path that led from the house to the ocean. But that wasn’t the only thing that took my breath away. There was a table on the porch, set up with an ice bucket and wine glasses.

Javier watched me carefully and smiled with satisfaction. “I thought we could have drinks here and enjoy the view before it gets too dark.” He clapped his hands together. “Just a minute. Here, sit down.”

He pulled out a wrought iron chair and then disappeared into the house. I took a seat, fingering the fine texture of the tablecloth. It amazed me that a guy of his age had such good taste. Perhaps growing up in Mexico made you appreciate the finer things in life. Perhaps drug money helped too.

When he came back, I’d already poured myself a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, the exquisite taste swirling around my tongue. He placed a tray on the table consisting of prosciutto-wrapped figs in balsamic dressing, prawns and an aioli-type dip, plus perfectly crisp mini taquitos and fresh verde salsa.

He sat across from me and poured himself a glass.

“Did you make all this?” I asked.

He smiled politely. “Yes, I did. So if you don’t like it, I’ll be horribly offended. I didn’t know if you were a vegetarian or not, so the taquitos are filled only with vegetables.”

My stomach rumbled loudly in response.

“Wow,” I said, reaching for one. He quickly handed me a napkin for use as a plate.

The taquitos were divine, the vegetables so fresh, the tortilla just the right thickness. “This is amazing,” I said, through a mouthful of food. It was very inelegant of me but I couldn’t help it. I stared at Javier as he leaned back in his chair watching me with delight. A butterfly or two flapped its wings in my gut, causing warmth to spread through me. Or maybe it was the wine, which was going straight to my head.

“How did you learn to make these?”

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “My mama, of course.”

“She sounds like quite the cook.”

He kept smiling though the expression in his eyes changed. “She was. She’s dead.”

I nearly choked on the remaining bite. I quickly slammed back the rest of my wine and put my hand to my chest. “I’m so sorry.”

Another lift of the shoulders, his face turning to the ocean. “Nah, don’t worry about it. That’s in the past. She was a lovely woman and a lovely cook.”

“She’d have to be pretty lovely to raise someone like you,” I said. I didn’t add the things that my brain was screaming at me: a criminal, a drug runner, the man who worked for the man that destroyed my life.

He raised his brows at that, as if he didn’t believe it. Then he looked at the bottle of wine. “Do you like the wine? It’s from New Zealand. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Yes, it’s great. Have you traveled a lot?” I asked, picking up on his hint to change the subject.

“I’d say so. I’ve been to Europe once. Spain, of course. Except the Spaniards aren’t too fond of us Mexicans. Been to South America a lot though.”

“Oh really?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “Like where?”

“Venezuela. Columbia. Lots of places in Central America.”

I had to say it. “Venezuela and Columbia…aren’t those kind of dangerous?”

His expression had turned playfully wicked. “Maybe I’m kind of dangerous.”

We watched each other for a few beats, each of us holding cards we weren’t quite willing to share yet, if ever. Then he laughed and said, “Drink up, my angel. We have reservations at six.”

I gladly did as he said, enjoying most of the bottle until I knew I was tipsy, and feasting on the rest of the food. The homemade aioli and the wrapped figs were just as decadent and delicious as the taquitos. Thankfully he hadn’t made too many or I would have totally spoiled my appetite.

While the sun was setting in the west, turning the sky into hazy wisps of coral that complimented my tube top, we roared off in his car, in his Jose, and kept to the coast. About ten minutes later we pulled up to a tiny restaurant on the beach.

I guess I was expecting him to take me to some fancy restaurant, but this was nothing more than a beach shack. There was a neon sign out front with the picture of a dancing crab, and the H was burnt out making it read “Crab ut.” Inside there were old wood floors, plastic tablecloths, and vintage movie posters on the wall. The kitchen was loud and boisterous, some of the steam filtering into the dining area, which only had about ten small tables.

A man appeared, double-chin, dark olive skin, happy eyes. He clapped Javier on the back, greeting him enthusiastically, and then appraised me with approval.

“Another new woman, Javier?” he said. “She’s a keeper, this one.”

Another new woman? I couldn’t help but look at Javier, who was shooting this man the deadliest of his golden green-eyed looks.

“Eden, this is Rod,” Javier said, pointing at the man with disdain. Rod didn’t seem to pick up on it at all. He just smiled at me, and I spotted a gold tooth somewhere in his mouth. “Rod, this is Eden.”

I gave him a quick nod, keeping a fake smile plastered on my face while trying to hide the sinking feeling I felt in my heart. It shouldn’t have surprised me at all to learn that Javier was a player. I mean, how could he not be? Look at how god damned suave he was. He certainly dressed like he was doing so to impress the ladies. Even though he was still wearing what he had earlier, he had slipped on a silk dress jacket that somehow pulled everything together in one luxurious and sexy bow.

“Come, I have your favorite table all set up,” Rod said. I was barely listening. Javier put his hand at my back, guiding me, and it warmed my whole spine.

His favorite table was by a large bay window that had a beautiful view of the ocean, waves crashing in the twilight. Chinese lanterns lit up the outside.

After Rod left, Javier reached over and placed his hand on mine. It made me jump slightly.

“Rod doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he said, chin lowered, peering up at me underneath his brows.

I tried to sound as breezy as possible. “He seems like a nice guy. You must come here often to have your own table.”

“I practically own this place,” he said. “When it’s doing well. When it’s not, I disavow all knowledge of its actions.”

I smiled and picked up the menu. My eyes couldn’t focus though. I kept reading the same thing over and over again while my thoughts wanted to think about me being “another new woman.” What bothered me the most was the fact that this whole thing wasn’t in the bag like I had thought. If he had a lot of women and I was just another new one, how long would I last with him? What if this was all fun and games for a few weeks and then he’d ditch me for someone else? Sure he was attentive and suave and seductive now, but what about then? Suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t be sure of anything.

“Eden,” he whispered, squeezing my hand.

I looked up at him. He looked so serious, his dark brows knitted together.

“You’ve gotten under my skin,” he said.

I wasn’t expecting that.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shed you.”

I wasn’t expecting that either. I had to take what he said with a grain of salt—I had to—and yet, his words were stirring up those butterflies again. He was trying to make me feel secure and safe. He didn’t realize he wasn’t doing me a favor.

I pushed past the heaviness of what he just said. “Well, as you can see, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I can see, but that’s not what I see,” he said, tapping the side of his eye. “Do you really think I’m one of those men who will take you out and never call you again?”

Yes, I thought. But I said, “I’m not thinking much. I’m just really hungry.”

He watched me closely for a few seconds before tearing his eyes away and looking at the menu. “The blue crab po-boys are to die for. They even bake their own bread.”

And just like that, all the serious business was dropped. I had to keep reminding myself that this was just our first official date and things were moving way too fast. Then I had to remind myself that it didn’t really matter how fast it moved, as long as it got there, and once I got what I wanted, I would be gone. I had to be.

CHAPTER SIX

After dinner was over and Javier had gotten me pleasantly drunk and fed me crab legs with dripping, melting butter, he got Rod to give him a bottle of wine and we took off for the beach.

Under the moonlight, the ocean looked less menacing and the waves had slowed down to a gentle lapping. We walked, hand in hand, through the soft sand. I had taken off my strappy sandals, my feet happy to be free. The sandals I had were the ones I wore when it wasn’t appropriate to wear boots—they looked elegant, yet their criss-cross gladiator-style straps kept the scars on the top of my foot hidden. But under the light of the moon, after a lot of wine which we shared straight out of the bottle, I didn’t care if he saw them or not.

That still didn’t keep me from being nervous as fuck. The setting, the wine, the enigmatic man I was with. This was all leading up to something and I didn’t know how to handle it. We were walking further and further away from the restaurant, the beach deserted, the houses on it growing further and further apart. It became more and more apparent that it was just him and I. We were alone, the universe pushing us together, turning off the lights.

I started babbling. I didn’t know what I was talking about. I think I began touching on reality TV shows and how they were ruining the world. I’d done a lot of TV watching back at Uncle Jim’s.

Finally, Javier stopped and pulled me right up to him. One of his hands slid to my lower back, finding the bare skin between my top and my pants. The other hand went to my face, gently wiping his thumb across my cheekbone, then trailing it down to my lips. He put the tip of his thumb in my mouth, at the fleshy part of my lip and gums, and grinned at me. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I just let him keep it there, my eyes growing larger with fear and anticipation.

“Your lips are being wasted,” he said to me, eyes boring holes into mine. His face was darkened in shadow, the moon at his back, but his eyes still glinted, gleaming like an animal’s.

I was about to ask how so, but he pressed his thumb further until I lifted my teeth and let it in. My tongue tasted salt and wine and garlic. I gently swirled it around.

His eyes glazed over with lust. “Yes. This is better.”

He placed his whole thumb in my mouth, so I had no choice but to suck it while locked in his gaze. His breath hitched, his nostrils flaring.

“Your lips are made for this. But this is easy. Would you like a challenge?”

I knew exactly what he meant. Believe it or not, I did go out on a date to a drive-in movie in Colorado. The guy wouldn’t even kiss me but I still ended up giving him a blow job. I did all right. I mean, I must have, judging from the way he came in my hair. But I didn’t want to do just all right with Javier. He had a lot of women, and if I was going to be the one to stick around, I needed to up my game. It’s just…of all the games I had played, this was out of my league.