Breaking the Rules

chapter 7





Joe opened the massive sliding door to his loft apartment with a huge smile.

“Come in.”

He knew she’d come. She could see it right away. Suddenly Susana felt ashamed that she’d had second thoughts and almost backed out.

He gestured for her to step over the threshold. As she did she heard piano music tinkling in the background. Little notes of fear jingled inside her.

“Wow.” The apartment was stunning. Huge, with high ceilings and gleaming wood floors. A wall of windows looked out over the Hudson River, gray water still visible in the dusk, lights gleaming on the opposite bank.

“I’ve been busy. I rented the place unfurnished.”

She looked around and wanted to laugh. It still looked unfurnished–no rugs on the floor or pictures on the white walls. Just a table, set for two, with two chairs. And the tiny silver stereo system on the floor in a corner of the room.

“There’s a bed, too,” he said softly.

Susana bit her lip.

A delicious aroma drew her attention to the kitchen open to the big living room. Two pots steamed on a huge stove surrounded by pale stone countertops.

“Arroz con pollo.”

“What’s that?”

“Chicken and rice. My dad’s recipe.”

“Smells good.”

Pretty confident of him to start cooking before she showed up. They hadn’t agreed on a time. But she’d known when to come.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure.”

“Wine?” Joe gestured at a bottle, already uncorked, sitting on the granite counter.

“Okay.” Just a sip, she promised herself. No sense getting tipsy. She wanted to savor every single minute of this adventure with all her senses fully awake.

She watched as Joe poured red wine into two large wineglasses. He’d combed his hair back neatly from his handsome face, tan cheeks shaved clean. His light blue shirt looked new, the creases from the packaging precise and crisp.

“You look different.”

“I clean up nice, huh?” He smiled and walked toward her with a glass of wine.

She nodded and took the glass from him, then smiled as she surveyed his bottom half. Faded jeans and bare feet.

He shrugged. “I’m still me. At least my top half looks pretty. To good fortune.” He lifted his glass and clinked it against hers.

“Good fortune.” She repeated and took a sip. The fruity liquid tickled her tongue, and she shivered, all on edge with excitement, anticipation and anxiety.

“You look different too.”

She realized his eyes hadn’t left her face until now. She tucked her hair behind her ear as his gaze wandered down over the new outfit she’d bought with so much trepidation that afternoon.

She’d wanted to wear jeans, but she’d tried them on and known she’d feel naked walking down the streets with the intimate curves of her thighs and backside, her crotch, on display to everyone.

She’d bought a dress, with a neckline that revealed her collarbone. The knee-length hem was demure by modern standards but shockingly risqué for Susana. The deep, plum shade flattered her complexion and brought out the color in her lips and cheeks.

“What do you think?” She smoothed the fabric of her skirt, suddenly self-conscious, like a kid playing dress-up.

“Very sophisticated. You look dazzlingly beautiful. But then you always do.” Joe’s dark eyes rested warmly on her face as he took a sip of his wine.

Susana’s face heated at the unfamiliar compliment. She’d heard her share of bloated flattery from drunken clients, but that didn’t mean anything. The only references to her looks from people she knew were entreaties to cover herself up, hide herself from the prying eyes of strangers, unless she wanted to end up like trampy cousin Sonya.

Or like her mother.

She took another sip of the dark liquid.

“You ready to eat?”

“Sure.”

Joe had lit a candle at the table and the flame guttered as Susana lowered herself carefully into her seat. Her skirt slid up to reveal half her bare thighs and she was glad the table hid the bold display. Odd really, when she’d sat before him last night without a stitch on and not even felt shy.

Joe brought over two steaming plates of fragrant chicken and rice with black beans, then settled into the seat in front of her.

“My dad was from Cuba. This was his favorite dish.” Joe’s smiling face shone, so astonishingly different from the haggard, haunted countenance she’d seen in the shop two days ago. Almost unrecognizable.

Could she take credit for the transformation?

Or did all men look like that when they thought they were going to get laid?

She shoved her napkin down into her lap, as if it could smother the flames of heat and embarrassment leaping under her new dress.

She’d promised and now she’d have to deliver.

“Go ahead, dig in.” He led the way, forking chicken into his smiling mouth.

Susana arranged some chicken on her fork and lifted it cautiously. This was, what—the third meal they’d eaten together? Why did she feel so self-conscious?

The aromatic chicken filled her taste buds with its savory flavors. “This is great.”

“Thanks. I bet you didn’t think I could cook.”

“You’re right.” Embarrassment forgotten, she ate more of the delicious food.

“My dad was a fantastic cook. It’s what he did for a living. My mom too, she came from Italy and had cooking in her blood, she said. Even on their days off they’d spend all day in the kitchen, so I grew up eating well.”

“Lucky you.”

“Yeah,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I was lucky. I had a happy childhood.”

A shadow darted across his features and his eyes dropped to his plate as he gathered another mouthful of food.

“I could see that when you came into the shop ten years ago. You glowed with high spirits.” She hesitated for a second before admitting the truth. “It was very attractive.”

“High spirits, huh?” He shook his head, chuckling. “Naïve dumbass ignorance is probably a better description. I’m all wised up now, though.” He looked away and took a quick swig of his wine.

“What happened, Joe? With your wife.”

He didn’t look up. Her stomach tightened. She would have liked to just enjoy the delicious meal, but suddenly Joe’s past hung between them like a knife, cutting through casual conversation.

“She dumped me. She promised me for better or for worse…” He shook his head. “But I guess she wasn’t up for the worse.”

“You feel a sense of betrayal.”

“Wouldn’t you? Marriage is for life. That’s the whole point of it. I provided for her, took care of her. Hell, I loved her. She was my wife.” He seized his glass and took a swig of wine, avoiding her gaze.

“I’m sorry she hurt you.”

“Me too.”

“The ‘worse’ you mentioned. Does that have anything to do with your scars?”

“Sure does. But trust me, you don’t want to know.” He shoved a forkful of food in his mouth and chewed it.

“Sometimes it helps to talk about what’s troubling you. I can see the past still haunts you.”

“You can, can you?” His eyes met hers, suddenly hard. “I bet you can read all about my sorry existence right in the palm of my hand.” He slammed a hand, palm up, down on the table.

Susana forced herself not to read the lines. Not that they would have told her much anyway. He balled his hand into a fist and withdrew it.

“Why did your grandmother raise you?” His black eyes narrowed as he asked the question. “What happened to your parents?”

An assault—as a form of defense. He didn’t want to talk about his own past so he’d picked up an obviously painful chunk of hers and hurled it at her.

She grasped her wineglass and raised it to her lips. Her hand slipped and the glass clinked against her teeth, making her blink. She put the glass down. Surely after all these years she should be able to talk about this.

But she never had.

It was taboo, a dirty secret that contaminated all who knew it, most of all her.

She drew in a ragged breath.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Joe reached a hand across the table. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. Believe me, I know how that goes.”

She placed her hand in his, and he closed his fingers around it, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Sparks of warmth tickled her skin where he chafed it. Why did his touch feel so good? Already she was relaxing.

Already she found herself wanting to tell him.

“My dad wasn’t Rom. He worked in a bakery where my mom went to buy bread. They started meeting each other secretly.” She paused, the forbidden words dancing around her. “I only know this tenth hand, mind you, since they died when I was a baby.”

“Did they get married?”

“No. They never married, but she got pregnant.” Susana looked at their hands intertwined on the table. They fit together so well. Suddenly she wondered if her mother ever had that same thought as she held hands with her gadjo lover.

The idea shocked her and made tears spring to her throat.

Her mother’s name was never mentioned. It was unclean.

“The shame of her pregnancy made my grandfather cast her out, so she went to live with her lover.”

“What was his name?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you have his last name, right?”

She shook her head. “My grandmother gave her name when she took me in. She wanted to forget my gadjo heritage.”

“Damn.”

“My mother’s name was Marianna.” The word burned her tongue, as if she cursed herself by saying it. But that bitter, frightening sting was also the taste of freedom. “She was only nineteen when she died.” She swallowed back the hot lump forming in her throat.

“What happened?”

“They were both shot dead one night.”

“By your family?”

“No!”

Fear curled Susana’s hand into a fist as she stared at Joe. Was it possible? The idea had never occurred to her. And she didn’t want to consider it.

“They said my father got mixed up in a drug deal. I don’t know any more than that. I was in the apartment when they were shot. Everyone called it a miracle I wasn’t hurt.”

“I bet your childhood wasn’t so easy.” He tightened his protective grip on her hand.

She avoided his eyes, trying to shrug off the unfamiliar wave of emotion tugging at her. She’d grown practiced at keeping her feelings under wraps, concealing them so carefully from everyone that she’d learned how to hide them even from herself.

“Did the family accept you, even though you’re only half gypsy?”

She nodded. “Mostly. The Rom look after their own. There was always whispering, backbiting, but my grandmother wouldn’t hear anything said against me. And when they realized I had the gift…”

She blew out a breath. The gift had saved her life in a way. Transformed her from a tolerated pariah into a proudly claimed member of the family.

And now she was going to give it up? Throw her powers away for one night with a handsome gadjo? Her fingers cooled inside his grasp.

“The gift is your ability to read fortunes?” Joe lifted a dark eyebrow.

“More than that. Anyone can read fortunes if they learn the language of the cards, of the palm. It’s the third eye, the ability to see what lies beyond the present…” She pulled her hand from his, grabbed her wineglass and took a quick swig.

The liquid blasted her mouth with its bittersweet shock. She put the glass down and tossed her head.

“It’s never done me any good. What’s the point of seeing the future? Better just to meet it when you get there.”

“Your family is going to have a fit if you lose your powers.”

“No, they won’t. They won’t even know. I can fake it.”

“No you can’t.” Joe leaned forward, eyes narrowed, glittering in the candlelight. “I don’t know you well, but I know you’re no faker. You’d rather eat glass than tell a lie.”

“Oh yeah? Like you said, you don’t know me so well.” She narrowed her own eyes, matching his intense stare, meeting him blow for blow.

Of course he was right, but there was no need to let him know that.

She sat back in her chair, lifting her shoulders and trying to show a confidence she didn’t feel. “I’m sick of sitting in a dusty storefront telling fortunes all day.”

“What do you want to do?”

She blinked. She’d never spoken aloud about her dream. It was her secret. Once she put it into words she could be mocked, laughed at, pitied.

She fingered her wineglass. “I’d like to be a psychologist.” Spoken out loud it sounded pretentious. She waved her hand in the air as if she could erase the words. She’d removed her bracelets and the lack of expected sound startled her, increasing her embarrassment.

Joe’s eyebrow lifted. “That sounds like a great idea. Why not?”

“I didn’t even finish high school.”

Sorry Susana, we need you to start earning.

“So? You can get a GED, go to college.”

Her mouth twitched. That was her plan. The one she’d turned over in her mind night after night alone in her bed. Her impossible dream.

To hear it coming out of someone else’s mouth made it sound just a little bit possible.

“Do you really think I can?”

“Of course.” Joe looked perplexed, as if he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t doing it already.

“I’ve already started,” she said shyly. Toying with her fork. “After Granna died, I sent away for the GED materials. I think I’m ready to take the test.”

“Go, Susana.” He lifted his glass, and she met it with hers. They swallowed wine together, and as the ruby liquid dazzled her throat, Joe’s eyes danced over her face, shining.

His handsome features seemed lit from inside tonight, his tanned skin glowing with life and health. A flash of humor sparkled in the dark depths of his eyes as he lifted his chin.

“Wait a minute here. I’m part of your big plan, aren’t I?”

“What?” A cool flash of adrenaline darted through her. Did he think she wanted more than one night?

Did she?

“I have a funny feeling you’re just itching to get rid of those powers of yours. Like you’ve been depending on them for so long they’ve become a bad habit. And if you get rid of them, you’ll be halfway to building a new life.”

She tossed her head, flicking her hair behind her shoulders. “Maybe.”

“I’ve never been anyone’s key to freedom before.” His broad shoulders leaned against the back of his chair as his eyes drifted over her face, down to the plunging neckline of her dress. “I think I like it.”

Susana’s chest heated under the searing stare he aimed at it. Bad manners. But she liked it. She shifted a little, her breasts moving inside her dress, nipples rubbing against the stiff fabric.

“You’re still not wearing a bra, are you?”

“No. I’ve never worn one.”

“I hope you never do. Some things were meant to be free.” He winked, and the crude gesture further tickled and heated her insides.

She let her gaze wander over his face, clean shaven, tanned except the pale curved scar at his eyebrow. She took in the hard line of his jaw, lifted in appraisal, and the thick sinews of his neck.

The crisp collar of his light blue shirt framed a seductive triangle of bronze skin that hinted at the powerful chest beneath it. She’d seen that chest, heavy muscle adorned with thin blue lines that spoke of his ability to endure pain.

His rolled-up sleeves revealed sturdy forearms sprinkled with dark hair. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table.

“We appear to be done eating.”

“The food was delicious. I’ve never met a man who could cook.”

“To be honest I hadn’t cooked in a long time. Cooking is a celebration of life, and I haven’t felt like celebrating anything for a while.”

“And you do now?”

The wine had seeped into her brain, brightening the room, making everything shine in the soft candlelight. She didn’t feel tipsy, just calmer, bolder.

“I do.” A smile hovered behind his lips, not fully committing itself. “I’d like to dance with you, Susana.”

“I don’t know how.” She shrank back in her chair, suddenly feeling like an outsider again. The tinkling piano music flowed from the speakers, mocking her. How did you dance to a bunch of tinkling notes?

“There aren’t any set steps to the dance I have in mind. You make it up as you go along. Come.” He rose from his chair and rounded the table. She grasped his outstretched hand and stood.

He settled one big hand in the hollow of her back, above her buttocks. His fingers trailed down over the curves, radiating heat and energy that seeped through her dress as he led her out into the big, empty room.

“I’m glad you came tonight.” He slid both arms around her waist, holding her loosely, a few inches between them. He started to sway, very gently, following the ebb and flow of the piano music.

Susana stood still, too self-conscious to swing her hips, aware of the way her dress followed the shape of her body, tracing its curves.

Joe’s eyes dropped to her chest as he tugged her closer, still swaying. Again she felt her nipples thrusting against the fabric, alive with sensation. Could he see her arousal through the plum colored material?

He pulled her nearer, heat swelling between them as her chest came dangerously close to bumping up against his. As his hands splayed over her back, pulling her to him, her lips parted—opening and welcoming the hot, male taste of his kiss.

Joe’s low groan vibrated through their joined mouths as their tongues met. Her body softened and melted, threatening to slide right through his hands, and she grabbed his thick torso to keep her balance.

Eyes now closed, she couldn’t see anything, only feel. Feelings pounded her senses—his hard muscle under her groping fingertips, his fierce mouth on hers, stealing her breath and firing her with desire and longing that thundered through her veins.

She scraped her fingers over the stiff cotton of his shirt, enjoying the ridges of muscle under it. Her hands slid down to his waistband, and lower, to cup the firm curve of his backside through the soft denim of his well-worn jeans.

Joe groaned again, abandoned to the sensation of their kiss. His hands wandered unchecked over her body, exploring her back and buttocks, squeezing and stroking. His arousal thickened in his jeans and pressed against her.

He seemed so vulnerable at that moment.

Crazy for her.

And the thought heightened her arousal, as his fingers snuck around to stroke her nipples through the fabric of her dress.

She heard herself moan, a high-pitched sound that came from somewhere she didn’t know existed. Somewhere hot and wild. And crazy, too.

She tipped her pelvis, pressing into his hardness as she heard the rasp of her zipper being pulled down.

Joe broke their kiss and left her panting as he backed off a few inches and raised his hands to her shoulders. He tugged gently at her dress and it fell forward into his hands.

Susana opened her eyes, and even the candlelight shone blindingly bright. Joe’s face was taut with concentration, unself-conscious, open mouthed, as he took his time removing her arms from the sleeves of her dress.

Down it fell, sliding along her legs to the floor. He took her hand like a gallant knight leading her around a puddle as he assisted her in stepping out of it.

She hadn’t worn any underwear.

“Damn.” The single word hissed from Joe’s lips as he let his eyes wander shamelessly over her naked body. His admiring gaze heated her skin like a caress.

Her hands moved without her permission. Rising to unbutton Joe’s crisp new shirt and yank down the zipper on his jeans. Joe stood still, watching through narrowed eyes as she pushed his shirt back over his shoulders, baring his tattooed chest and upper arms.

On instinct she licked each of his nipples once, leaving them wet and gleaming. She glanced up to see his face contorted with desire, the angular cut of his cheekbones and chin sharpened by the tension.

Tension in the air. Tension in their bodies.

He tugged his shirt off the rest of the way while she pushed his jeans and underwear down the length of his muscled thighs, enjoying the prickle of wiry masculine hair that dusted them.

He stepped out of his jeans, movements jerky and rigid, barely controlled. Her blood heated to boiling point at the sight of his beautiful, powerful body standing naked before her.

The music stopped and the only sound was the hum of the fridge and the hum of the blood in her head.

“There’s no turning back now,” Joe whispered, his breath hot on her ear.

“I don’t want to turn back,” she replied, her voice oddly calm. Her resolve was total. Tonight she would become a woman.

The past was just that, the past.

And the future was nobody’s business.