Free Yours in Black Lace by Mia Zachary Page A

pure and simple. She was definitely feeling lust. Her body hummed with an intense desire that had her aching for Emelio’s touch. He was so right about the anticipation. Writing the black-lace letters had been fun, but now she wanted those erotic fantasies of making love with him to become real.
    Then again, love wouldn’t have anything to do with it.
    Disappointment. As much as she hated to admit it, she was also feeling disappointed. Funny how she hadn’t wanted more until he’d set a boundary on their time together. There was no way to look at Emelio and not want sex. But after seeing his paintings and discovering the passion below the surface of his professional veneer, she found that she wanted more.
    Stevie pressed the edges of her palms against her eyes and sighed heavily. The stress of running from an unknown danger must have rendered her temporarily insane.
    After divorcing Tom, she’d avoided men who seemed too demanding or controlling. Emelio had already proven he had no qualms about making decisions that affected her life, and yet she was still crazy about him. Or it could be she was just crazed with hunger. She’d never really finished dinner last night, as her stomach crankily reminded her.
    She turned her left wrist and checked the hour. The Timex had been her father’s. He taught her to tell time on that watch, she remembered. Then he’d made himself a fortune in commercial real estate and traded his old Timex for a flashy diamond Rolex. His jewelry wasn’t the only thing that had changed….
    Kicking off the covers with a scowl, she swung her legs over the bed. She assumed the Mountain Pose and she ran through a series of Yoga stretches, emptying her mind and warming up her body. When she’d finished her morning routine, she went to see about some food.
    The cottage was quiet, only the tranquil sounds of the water and birdsong breaking the silence. Her bare feet padded across the carpeted floors onto the cool terra-cotta tiles as she wandered through the house. Eventually, she found Emelio asleep in the Florida room.
    He didn’t look too comfortable stretched out on the sofa, his long coffee hair tousled and one arm flung over his head. Judging by the rumpled blanket tangled around his legs and hanging to the floor, he’d spent a restless night. Sunshine streaming through the glass walls highlighted the uneasy lines tightening his forehead.
    It also gleamed off the stainless-steel barrel of a gun positioned within arm’s reach on the floor. She didn’t pick it up, but estimated it took a .45 caliber shell. Nine of them in fact. Emelio meant what he said about protecting her.
    But why had he chosen to subject himself to the sofa when there was plenty of room in the king-size bed? Knowing him, he probably thought he was being considerate. Emelio had been so good to her in the last twenty-four hours, allowing her into his home and letting her discover his secrets. There had to be some way to show her appreciation.
    Her belly gurgled again, offering a solution. An old adage proclaimed that the fastest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, so she’d wake him with a nice breakfast. But what should she make? She usually just poured herself a bowl of chocolate-frosted sugar bombs.
    Beignets and café au lait—a little taste of New Orleans. She used to watch their cook make the square doughnuts for her as a girl, but she was pretty sure about the recipe. Draping the blanket back over him, she carefully leaned over to brush a soft kiss on Emelio’s cheek. He murmured something in response then continued to sleep.
    In the kitchen, Stevie quietly opened and closed all of the cabinets until she found a couple of mixing bowls and a frying pan. Once she located the main ingredients in the pantry, she dropped a package of active yeast and a bottle of cooking oil onto the island countertop.
    Okay. She remembered this part. She stirred the dry yeast into some hot water, then turned on the stove burner