One Perfect Man. Lynda Sandoval

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СКАЧАТЬ simply wanted to be taken seriously in her career, not treated like fresh meat everywhere she went. Was that too much to ask? She hated to admit to herself how disappointed she was to learn that the quiet piñatero was just another in a long line of men who viewed the work arena as one big singles bar.

      Her chin lifted. “Mr. Garza—”

      He cocked his head, friendly curiosity in his eyes. “I thought we’d moved on to first names?”

      She sighed. “Tomás, then. Before you say anything further, I’d like to make it perfectly clear that I don’t date business associates. Ever.”

      His eyes widened, then crinkled with amusement. “You think I’m hitting on you?” He paused a moment, then added, mostly to himself, “Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you, the way I phrased it.” His apologetic gaze met hers. “Ah…I’m almost flattered, Erica. But it’s not that kind of personal matter.” He held up his hands, palms forward, in a gesture of surrender. “I would never be so presumptuous. Sorry if I gave you that impression.”

      Oh, God. Mortification oozed from her brain through her body like hot lava, miring her in its fiery thickness. The words were out there. She couldn’t snatch them back. She had to simply save face as best she could. “I, uh, owe you an apology, then. Clearly. It’s just that sometimes—”

      “Don’t worry,” he said, holding up a hand. “I understand. I’m sure men come on to you all the time.”

      “Not…all the time.” Ugh, she could perish.

      “Well.” His eyes smiled, but his mouth managed to remain serious and sincere. “Rest assured, me hitting on you is one thing you’ll never have to worry about, Erica. Promise.”

      Never? Realization cut through her mind, and with it came a deeper gouge of humiliation. God, it just kept getting better, didn’t it? Why hadn’t she paid closer attention? She’d been too damn busy noticing how unexpectedly young and attractive the piñatero was to realize—

      How uncharacteristically narrow-minded of her.

      She worked with people in the arts community all the time, she should know better than to assume. Clearly, Tomás Garza was gay, and here she’d accused him of—oh, Lord. She really did want to shrivel up and die. She knew no other way to recover from this social gaffe other than just…sucking it up and admitting she’d acted like an ass.

      “I’ve come to request your help. Or your services, to be more specific,” Tomás continued, clearly not as bothered by what had transpired as she. “A business proposition.”

      “Ah. Business.” She pushed out a humorless, self-deprecating laugh, wishing she’d fall through the floor, the earth, and all the way to China. “Okay. Well, give me a minute to regain my composure. I’m thoroughly embarrassed.” She twisted her mouth to the side and met his gaze directly. “Please accept my apology for the unfair assumption, Tomás. You must think I’m terribly arrogant.”

      “Absolutely not.” Tomás laughed, but the sound was kind. He didn’t seem the type to derive pleasure from other people’s humiliation. “I think you’re a woman who probably puts up with men’s unwanted attentions all the time. I understand.”

      Her humiliation waned, thanks to his kindness. “Still, to automatically assume…well. I just hope this won’t affect our working relationship. Believe me—” she laid a palm on his forearm, then lowered her tone to an intimate level hoping he’d recognize her sincerity “—I work with a lot of gay men, and consider many of them my closest friends. This is completely not an issue for me.”

      Startled confusion clouded his eyes for a moment, then he smiled widely. She hadn’t noticed that dimple before.

      Don’t notice it now, dummy. He plays for the other team!

      “Look, ah…don’t worry about it.” Laughter laced his words. “I should’ve made myself more clear. Obviously. But, what’s done is done.” He clapped his palms together. “What do you say we start over from scratch?”

      “Sounds like a fabulous idea.” She gestured behind her, relieved to have made it through the flaming hoop relatively unscathed. “I hope you don’t mind if I pack up while we talk.”

      “Not at all. In fact, I’ll help.”

      “Thanks.” He set about stacking chairs while Erica disconnected her computer and placed the components in the leather carrying case. “Tell me more about this proposition.”

      He glanced up, then held her gaze. “I’d like to hire you for a special project. I need your expertise.”

      Erica cocked her head to the side. “What’s up?”

      “My daughter, Hope—she’s fourteen. Fifteen in—” he checked his watch “—just about six months.”

      Daughter? Erica blinked, trying to grasp this newest bit of information and assimilate it into Tomás’s swiftly metamorphosing profile in her brain. From paunchy old man to sexy young man to gay man to father of a teenager—all in the span of a couple minutes. How much was one woman expected to take?

      “I’d like to celebrate it during the summer, though, which means I have about five months to plan one heck of an extravaganza to celebrate her quince años,” he went on. “One perfect night for a very special girl turning fifteen. It’s been a dream of mine ever since she was born to make it extra special for her. There’s only one problem.”

      She forced her vocal cords to form words. “W-what’s that?”

      “I have no clue how to plan a quinceañera, and my little bundle of teenage hormones isn’t giving me much direction.” His mouth took on a rueful quirk.

      Erica stared at him for a moment while her mind tried to catch up. She ran both hands through her hair. She needed more information, needed to pull herself together, needed…a drink.

      “Well? What do you say?”

      He wanted an answer now? She laughed, a small nervous sound. “Hold on. To be frank, I’m still trying to get over my shock that you have a daughter. And one that old. Fifteen?”

      “Almost.”

      She shook her head, marveling. “And here I thought you were about my age.”

      His body stilled. He stood motionless before her, looking as he had during the meeting…wary, watchful. “I’m thirty-one,” he said, the words devoid of emotion.

      “Ah. So you are about my age. Three years older, in any case.” Erica did the math. Interesting. “Your daughter was—”

      “Not a mistake,” he said, his warning tone putting her on instant alert. His tiger’s-eye gaze hardened.

      She blinked in surprise. “No, I…I wasn’t going to—I didn’t mean it that way.” Although she couldn’t imagine a seventeen-year-old boy planning to father a child. What else could it have been but a mistake?

      Almost as if he’d read her thoughts, he added, “I had her too young. True. That’s my fault, not hers.”

      “Of course not. I never…” She stepped closer, hating this awkward СКАЧАТЬ