Miami Spice by Deborah Merrell Page A

like that, too. That’s why I hate to
tell you I have to leave soon.”
    She tipped her face to his. “Oh, no!”
    “I can’t help it. I have prior commitments
and just a short time to fulfill them all. One of those is tonight,
dammit.”
    Erica wanted desperately to ask about his
schedule. Every minute without him meant she would be climbing the
walls wondering what he was doing, who he was with... Then again,
she would be overstepping boundaries if she pried too deeply, asked
too many questions, or even broached the subject of commitment.
    Nico stroked the underside of her chin. “But
we’re still on for this weekend, right? I’ll pick you up at your
place, about four Friday afternoon?”
    She nodded with a thin smile; although, her
heart ached with the knowledge they had to part.
    The trip back to the marina seemed all a blur
to her, and the couple said very little as Nico drove her to the
Palmetto Terrace. Before she opened the car door, he leaned over
and gave her a tender, passionate kiss.
    When he finally broke their embrace, his
fingers lingered across her face. “Do you still want to go ahead
with the design plans for Gianni’s place?”
    “Why, yes, of course.” Erica had no real
excuse as to why she couldn’t take the job, other than Nico’s
brother happened to be a sexist pig. Oh well, a lot of men acted
and talked that way, and it certainly never stopped her from
earning a living before. Gianni Sloan was hardly daunting or
intimidating, not enough to make her harbor second thoughts.
    “Then I’ll see you Friday.” Behind his
sunglasses, Erica knew Nico gave her a sweet, affectionate
wink.
    * * *
    “Ah, señorita , I learn more about the
man upstairs.”
    As Erica walked into her apartment, she found Rosina
sitting at the breakfast bar with an iced tea in a hand, a little
fortification after the hours she just put in tidying the
place.
    “He has such a reputation that the girls call
him The Player, or Señor Parrandero . That is, the girls who
clean apartments around here.”
    “I’m sure they’re just being polite.” As she
spoke, Erica threw her shopping bag on the floor and flopped on the
sofa. “I can imagine what else they must call him.”
    Rosina frowned. “Say, you look like a boiled lobster, mijita . You must have got some sun this afternoon.”
    Erica tried to control her burgeoning grin.
She had gotten so much more than just el sol . “Yes, I went
for a sail with a friend. You know, Rosina, I don’t think I need to
know anything more about Señor Parrandero . He’s commissioned
me to decorate his apartment.”
    “Aha!” the maid exclaimed heartily. “You just watch
yourself, Mees Erica, or you’ll be the next notch on his conga
drum.”
    This time she had to laugh even though a
sunburn headache had etched its way across her forehead. “Don’t
worry, I have no interest in Mr. Gianni Sloan. It’s his twin
brother I’m interested in. Nico Sloan is here visiting the
family.”
    “His hermoso? ” Rosina gave Erica a
wide-eyed look. “I don’t know about him, but I’ll ask around if you
want.”
    The housekeeper’s snooping skills intrigued
Erica enough to get her curiosity up, especially if she could find
out more about Adriano Sloan. “He’s an artist from Connecticut and
owns a gallery.”
    Rising from her stool, the housekeeper ambled
over to Erica with an envelope in her nut-brown hand. “Speaking of el diablo , the man himself come down earlier and left this
for you.”
    Accepting the envelope, Erica quickly opened
it and found a blank check and a note from Giancarlo Sloan:
    I hope this will secure your services. I left
the recipient and amount open because I’m not sure if I should pay
you directly or your firm. Does a thousand dollars to get you
started sound right? Either way, I hope we can develop a fruitful
relationship. I look forward to our next meeting.
    G.S.
    P.S. Sorry about today.
    “Well, well,” Erica remarked as she fanned
the check under her