Her own personal crowd splitter walked beside her. It was kinda amusing to see grown men step out of Lorenzo’s long stride. He didn’t have to ask them to move or growl a warning. It was like they had angry-male-dar.
The hot, humid air sucked the breath from her lungs as they stepped outside. The city was still teeming with people walking up and down the sidewalks. Cars drove down Main Street at a leisurely pace, wanting to be seen or to get seen, depending on your take.
“Let me take you home.” He crowded into her personal space.
He used his left hand on her hip to hold her in place and tangled his right in her hair, forcing her head back. She had no other choice but to meet his dark gaze. The commanding way he took charge of every situation was a complete turn on. One that had her wondering when she’d become that kind of woman.
She could be childish and close her eyes, to block out his face, or she could stare him in the eye and tell him…what should she tell him? If she told him no and left for LA tomorrow, or the next day, would she forever regret not taking this one night for herself? Would she forever wonder, what if? She was not a coward, nor did she want to face the rest of her life with the doubts.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll follow you. But, I don’t want to leave my car here overnight.”
His head moved up and down, and then side to side. She’d surprised him.
“If you’re sure? Otherwise, I can have Joe put it in my garage here. It’s where I store my car.”
“No, I’ll follow you.”
Her car was pulling in, followed by what had to be Lorenzo’s machine. Knowing her Ferrari cost close to two hundred grand, she knew, without checking, his cost more than five times that. She loved fast cars. The faster the better, in her opinion. Of course, the problem with that was, they usually cost a mint.
She knew the Delgados had money. To live on Fisher Island, you had to be mega wealthy, and Lorenzo’s family home was even larger than her own.
The valet hopped out of her car. One glance at the tall man beside her, and he backed away, turning to get the next person’s vehicle. She made a face at the show of Big Man syndrome, not realizing she’d actually uttered the words.
“I am a big man, my Angel.” He held the door open for her.
“You’re something, all right,” she snorted.
She had to brush his body to get in, and knew he’d done it on purpose. He wanted her flustered. But what he’d get would be a whole other ball game. She’d be the one to shoot the three-pointer at the buzzer. Mentally, she smacked herself in the back of the head. Being around basketball for the last four and a half years had obviously rubbed off on her, if she was using analogies in her mind.
That train of thought was cut off before she could think about a certain person. They’d never agreed to be exclusive, even though she hadn’t seen anyone else. It wasn’t out of fidelity to him. She knew he still played the field, had seen him out at Koi in LA with another woman. The fact he hadn’t even noticed her because he had his tongue down some brunette’s throat, didn’t bother her. At the time, she’d wondered at her lack of anger. They were dating, and knowing he was going to screw some other woman didn’t even make her pulse increase. But that same thought with Lorenzo had her throwing a hissy fit and doing one of the stupidest, if not the stupidest thing she’d ever done, five years earlier.
She didn’t want to think about the past. The future was all that mattered. In the short term, she planned to have a one-night stand with the man she’d loved since she was thirteen. Tomorrow, she’d tell Andrew she couldn’t marry him. He deserved better than a woman who didn’t even care if he slept with a different woman every night, a woman who couldn’t even picture having sex with him.
Following the Aston Martin on the still-busy streets of Miami was a chore in itself. She didn’t have time to ponder her future and what she’d do with herself, and for that she was glad.
The air coming from the vents cooled her overheated skin, giving her a chance to catch her breath. They drove along the coastline, entering a gated community that had a night watchman manning a large steel gate. Lorenzo gestured behind him, indicating her car. A knowing expression crossed the other man’s face, and she almost turned tail and ran.
She’d never been to Lorenzo’s home before, and wondered how many women he’d brought there, then resolutely banished the images of the parade of gorgeous women he’d slept with. He was over thirty, gorgeous, and rich in his own right. Of course he’d have a bevy of women. The thought had an arrow of hurt and a small measure of inadequacy knifing through her, almost making her turn around and head to her parents’ home.
“Put your big-girl panties on and cowgirl up,” she told herself out loud.