Well, what do we have here, Dori wondered as she grabbed onto the chair for support.

“What do you think?” Sela asked, dabbing her lower lip with gloss.

Grammy planted both hands on the table and twisted around. “Ohh,” she cooed appraisingly. “Now that’s what I’m saying when I mean un tigre.” She shoved the bottle aside and fished out her gold tube of Max Factor red.

“He’s mine,” Sela pouted. “I saw him first.”

“What? I’m just touching up my lipstick!”

Why did I come back home, Dori asked herself, snatching her purse with the trusty mini-deodorant she’d packed. Right now, she felt like a prisoner who’d had a few years free, only to be thrown behind bars without doing anything wrong. 

With Grammy and Sela salivating over some guy, she was guaranteed a night of keeping them out of trouble. Still sore from being yelled at by Grammy and then snapped at by Sela, Dori pushed her chair under the table. Let them get each other out of trouble.

“Have fun with him, okay?” Dori said.

“Don’t you remember that game we used to play?”

Unfortunately yes, Dori did. Before Dori had been recruited into the Explorer program at National City PD, she and Sela had earned their reputation as “those Wild Orihuela Girls” by picking the cutest boy at a party and then competing as to who could get him out of his pants.

Dori regretted not setting a better example to her little sister and yet, Sela was her parent’s child, not hers.

“I’m not going to be the wedding hoochie.”

“Hoochie?” Sela asked. “If I was the wedding hoochie, I’d be out there dry humping every guy on the dance floor!”

“Like that,” Grammy said, pointing to their Cousin Lupe who shouldn’t have worn that red knit dress without panties. “She should’ve had one of them Peruvian wax jobs or whatever they’re called.”

Shaking her head, Dori then asked Sela, “Don’t you think we’re a little too old for those games?”

Sela pressed her chin into her shoulder. “Since you’re the oldest-“

“You’re going to compete for el tigre?” Grammy asked, her head whipping from side to side.
A witchy smile curved on Sela’s face, her eyes sparkling with the dare. “How else do you want to pass the time?”

Dori ran her tongue over the top of her teeth, her heart kicking up at the challenge. But then she reminded herself that she was a respected officer, not a seventeen-year-old chafing under the responsibilities her family had placed on her.

Still, she took another look and her body temperature spiked. He stood with one elbow propped on the bar, dressed in a black suit that was cut perfectly to fit broad shoulders and long legs. Black hair fell in loose waves to curl at his shoulders. Dori could almost feel that hair fisted in her hands.

“I don’t think so,” she said, hurrying away from the table, not really sure where she had planned to go.

She hadn’t meant to look but her eyes ate up the man in black’s deep set, intense eyes the color of espresso. His straight nose ended in a sharp point, and those lips had just the right amount of plumpness that could make a woman shiver when he kissed her. Grammy was right. He was un tigre with the way he seemed to stand in wait, ready to pounce with all of his might, or slither under the cover of the crowd until his hot breath touched the delicate skin behind a woman’s ear.

“Dori?”

She thought she’d imagined that voice saying her name. But when she saw Pete, the shock made her skin flash red hot. A high-pitched squeal whined in her ears.

He smiled easily, revealing tiny lines that hadn’t been in the corners of his eyes when she’d left for Denver. His black hair spiked off the top of his head and the gray suit accentuated his sleek, swimmers body.

“Okay there, we got it over with,” he said suddenly and then turned around to walk away.

Then he pivoted back with an almost desperate laughter in his eyes. He’d always made her laugh, but not now.

“Hey,” he said, uncertainly. “I didn’t mean to surprise you like that I-“

He reached for her and if she’d been in complete command of herself, she would never have flinched away.

“Dori,” he said her name like it was an apology.

“I’m sorry I-“ She would kill Sela for not telling her. She sucked in her breath and bore down on the fluttering nerves. “Hi Pete.”

His smile wobbled precariously. “Hey there Pi-“ He caught himself from calling her, Piglet, the nick name he had given her when they were dating. “I have no idea what to say next.”

“I think it’s, ‘how are you?’” she suggested.

“Right so then, how the hell are you?”

“I’m great.”

“Heard you’re now with San Diego PD.”

“I am. How’s the leg?”

“I got your card.”

She had debated about sending it when she heard that he’d been knifed, trying to break up a jail fight. So she did, but only signing her name.

“Since when did you start drinking piña coladas?” she asked, noticing the gaudy cocktail in his hand.

“I’m here with my uh, fiancée-“ He held up the glass. “This is hers.”

It looked like the kind of drink a college co-ed who just got her fake ID would order. But to order a piña colada in the Crown Room at the Hotel Del … could there be anything tackier than that? Yeah, Dori imagined, probably her dress.

Truth was, if Dori had known Pete would be here with a date – no, even worse, a fiancée – she would’ve taken herself out with Grammy’s pistol when she’d had the chance.

“See you around,” she said, pivoting back towards her table.

Grammy and Sela’s eyes swung around guiltily when they saw her coming.

“You bitches,” she hissed at them. The heads of their table guests swiveled up in shock.

END OF EXCERPT. LIKE IT? ORDER IT!

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