their belongings, and filed out of the room to meet their mothers, who were patiently waiting in a small observation area separated from the main studio by a glass partition. Normally the parents lingered after class to talk to Tommie. Today they departed with raised eyebrows and demure smiles directed at Paulo.
Scowling, Tommie stalked across the room toward him, her ponytail swinging from side to side. “I hope you have a damned good reason for interrupting my class,” she groused.
A faintly mocking smile curved firm, sensual lips. “And if I don’t?” Paulo challenged.
Tommie’s temper flared, even as she silently cursed herself for allowing him to get under her skin. Not that this was anything new. Paulo Sanchez had been getting under her skin ever since she met him four years ago at her sister’s wedding rehearsal dinner. From the moment Tommie and Paulo locked gazes, the chemistry between them had been powerful, sizzling with electricity. But Tommie, who had just gotten out of a bad relationship, knew the last thing she needed was a rebound romance. Still, it had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed to resist Paulo, to ignore the way her pulse raced as he’d escorted her down the aisle at the wedding ceremony, to ignore her throbbing breasts and her aching loins as they’d slow-danced together at the reception. By accident or design, Tommie had caught the bride’s bouquet while Paulo came away with the garter belt. To this day, she still remembered the wicked gleam in his eyes as his big, callused hands had slowly traveled up her thigh to secure the garter, leaving a trail of scorched nerve endings.
That, finally, had been her undoing.
Right then and there she’d decided to throw caution to the wind and indulge in a one-night stand with Paulo. No strings attached. No empty promises. Just one night of hot, mind-blowing sex between two mature, consenting adults who would go their separate ways in the morning.
After joining the rest of the guests in sending off the happy bride and groom, Tommie had gone in search of Paulo, confident that he would jump at the chance to sleep with her. He’d been seducing her from the moment they met, wearing down her defenses until she’d had no choice but to succumb to him.
But when Tommie discovered Paulo and a leggy brunette making out in the bridal suite, she’d been stunned. And crushed. It was abundantly clear that Paulo, having already grown bored with Tommie, had moved on to the next diversion.
Hearing Tommie’s shocked gasp, the couple had sprung apart on the chaise longue. To her credit, the brunette had looked suitably embarrassed as she tugged at her tight little dress. Paulo, on the other hand, had met Tommie’s outraged glare with a lazy, insolent grin. As if debauching women at weddings was nothing new to him.
Without mincing words, Tommie had ordered the couple out of her sister’s bridal suite. The next time she saw them, Paulo was helping the woman into his car. He’d glanced up, and seeing Tommie framed in the doorway of the beautiful waterfront mansion where the wedding had been held, he’d winked and blown her a kiss. She’d felt as humiliated as if he’d jilted her at the altar.
“Why, Tomasina, aren’t you going to introduce me to your handsome visitor?”
Pulled out of her reverie, Tommie glanced over to find her pianist, Hazel Calhoun, standing there with an inquisitive smile on her bespectacled face as she eyed Paulo with unabashed curiosity.
Grudgingly Tommie performed the introductions.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Calhoun,” Paulo said, shaking the woman’s hand. “You play beautifully.”
Hazel beamed with pleasure. “Why, thank you very much, Mr. Sanchez. I’m so glad you enjoyed the music.”
“I did. And please call me Paulo.”
Tommie watched in disbelief as her pianist—a sixty-five-year-old grandmother, community activist, and church deaconess—giggled and blushed to the gray roots of her scalp.
“Where have you been hiding this delightful young man?” she said chidingly to Tommie.
“Not far enough, apparently,” Tommie grumbled.
“Tomasina!”
Paulo’s dark eyes glimmered with amusement. “It’s all right, Mrs. Calhoun. Tommie and I haven’t seen each other since her sister’s wedding in San Antonio four years ago. We’ve got a lot of, ah, catching up to do.”
Hazel smiled warmly at him. “Are you from San Antonio, too?”
“Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.”
“Like Tomasina.” Hazel seemed inordinately pleased that her employer and Paulo shared a common background. “And now here you both are, in Houston. You must have followed each other,” she teased.
Paulo chuckled. “I’ve been here for two years, so I’ll let you decide who followed whom.”
Tommie bristled. “I didn’t follow you!”
Paulo quirked a brow at her. “No?”
“Of course not! I didn’t even know you’d moved here until after I arrived.”
“Whatever you say,” Paulo drawled.
Tommie scowled. “I didn’t—”
“It was awfully nice of you to stop by for a visit this afternoon, Paulo,” Hazel smoothly intervened. “I wish I could stay and chat with you longer, but I have to run to a meeting at church.” She paused, her dark eyes lighting up as a sudden idea struck her. “Why don’t you stay and have dinner with Tomasina? I baked a fresh pan of lasagna for her last night, and there’s enough to feed an army.”
Stifling a groan at the woman’s obvious attempt at matchmaking, Tommie quickly interjected, “That’s very generous of you, Mrs. Calhoun. But I’m sure Paulo didn’t intend to hang around that long. He’s a homicide detective. He’s probably needed somewhere this very minute.”
“Actually,” Paulo countered with a hint of that devilish grin, “I’m off duty. And it just so happens that I skipped lunch this afternoon. A home-cooked meal sounds great.”
“Wonderful!” Hazel exclaimed, as if he’d just promised to feed all the starving children in Africa.
When Tommie glowered at Paulo, he chuckled, a low, husky rumble that made her belly quiver.
After Hazel left, Tommie locked up the studio for the evening. As she led Paulo up a flight of stairs to her second-story loft, she could feel the searing intensity of his gaze on her backside.
She unlocked her front door with unsteady fingers and quickly crossed the threshold, gesturing him inside. “Bienvenido a mi casa.”
“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” Paulo drawled as he brushed past her.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Tommie retorted.
He turned to face her, one heavy black brow raised. “Is that a challenge?” he asked softly.
Tommie met his gaze unflinchingly. “Just a statement of fact.”
They stared at each other for a long, charged moment.
Paulo
