Page 7 of Hit Man
“Never in my wildest imagination,” I murmur. And the man below is definitely someone who’ll be hard to forget.
The hunk pauses, turns, and if sensing my thoughts, looks over his shoulder and up.
I freeze, caught red-faced and red-handed, with my mouth open and one palm pressed up against the glass, spying on him. Okay,eye-fuckinghim.
It’s not your fault. The man’s one tug away from stripping down to his birthday suit. Right out in the open-concept living room, for Pete’s sake. Not exactly Mr. Conservative, who’s my typical kind of guy.
No, this guy is Mr. Bold as Brass.
Or better yet, Mr. Crazy Pants. I mean, who does such a thing? What kind of man takes an impromptu skinny-dip in a living-room river pool?
He stares at me and I suddenly feel nervous. Like I fully intended on invading his privacy, as if I’d do such a thing, intentionally.
His eyes narrow, or I think they do. Hard to tell at this distance. Yet unbelievably, I can’t seem to draw mine away.
I gasp as he slides his briefs lower, daring me to keep watching him. Sexier than anything I’ve ever seen or even dreamed about. Why he’s doing such a thing is way beyond the realm of logic and comprehension,wayout of my comfort zone and miles away from my ability to think straight.
“Ahhh,” Zoey screeches.
I anxiously spin in her direction. The danger of that drop along with the fact she’s tempting fate by dangling her legs over the ledge causing me to fear the worse.
“I lost the other heel.” She clambers up and onto her bare feet. “You ready?”
I nod.But ready for what?I think, my gaze drawn back to the stranger below.
Just in time to see the two pale globes of his ass midair, before he disappears in a neat dive into the river pool.
I spy his dark head seconds later, as he resurfaces closer to the arched opening in the wall.
“Another power outage,” Zoey sighs, drawing up beside me. “Paradise isn’t perfect, after all.” She stands, peers down at the living room below, then makes a whistling sound between her pursed lips. “Would you look at that pool? This place is certainly full of surprises, huh?”
I nod, thinking about explaining what just happened with the stripper. No, there’s no rational way of explaining that.
“I wonder what other surprises Mexico City has in store for us?” Zoey continues.
“I wonder,” I murmur, my eyes skimming across the water in search of him. Yet as if he was only a mirage, a handsome figment of my imagination, he’s disappeared from sight.
2
Aubrey
“Is this incredible or what?” Zoey shouts between the pause in rap songs.
“Or what,” I holler back.Incredibleis too dull a word to describe the dance party presently in progress. I’m surrounded by handsome, dark-haired men in suits. Powerful men with a subtle don’t-fuck-with-me edge to them.
Ibiza meet Mexico City.
Anything goes at a party such as this. If only Juan Carlos would put in an appearance . . . I hastily skim the room, fearful I might have missed him.
Zoey leans into me. “Renaldo says Mendoza isn’t coming. But they’ll be another party so not to worry.” She clinks her shot glass against mine, sending a good portion of the amber liquid onto the large windowpane I had the foresight to position us near. That drink is the only thing I want spilling off the dance floor.
“To Aubrey June Hamilton. Architectural wizard. Dance fiend. Professional, filthy-mouthed Spanish-speaker.”
I laugh and realize it’s been a long time since I’ve done so. All work and no play . . .I raise my shot glass.“And to you, Zoey Rutherford, male magnet, sex fiend, and giver of the most useless gifts ever.” I tap her glass and in unison, we toss back our second round of tequila shots.
I grimace as the liquid burns a path down my throat.
Four months ago, I expected my life in Mexico City to play out exactly as planned. ABB-built homes featuring my designs would be well underway. I’d be housed, fed, and transported in and out of Neza Chalco, as ABB agreed to do in exchange for my time, expertise, and money. My life here would be busy yet fruitful, and I’d be consumed by my work . . . by my passion project.
