Except…Matías apparently thought it was.
So what was his endgame? Surely he must know that provoking the de la Paz clan on its own territory — and involving the Wilcoxes and the McAllisters, too — wasn’t going to end well. The problem was, too many pieces of the puzzle were still missing. Alex knew that he and Caitlin would never be able to figure it out if they didn’t dig up some more of those pieces.
Exactly how, he didn’t have a clue.
* * *
Bright morning sun peeking around the edges of the blinds told Caitlin that she’d managed to sleep the whole night through. More to the point, she hadn’t had any visions. Not even any dreams she could remember.
What she did remember was the taste of Alex’s lips, the feel of his arms around her. A thrill ran through her body, warming her, making her positively tingle with need for him.
Don’t, she told herself. You are not going there now. No way.
She made herself get out of bed, then rummaged through her suitcase for some clean underwear and a fresh pair of jeans. A hot shower might help to clear her head. At the very least, it would get the day started, and she and Alex could decide what they wanted to do next. Something that didn’t involve jumping into bed together.
Good luck with that.
After peeking down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear, she hurried into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water came on hot almost immediately, so unlike the bathroom she’d had to share with Danica back at their cramped little apartment. The landlords swore up and down that every unit had its own water heater, but Caitlin had her doubts.
Anyway, it did feel good to shampoo her hair and get clean, not that she’d done much to exert herself the day before. When she emerged from the bathroom, she could smell the scent of coffee drifting down the hallway, and guessed that Alex was already up and dressed as well.
Sure enough, he was in the kitchen, pouring himself some coffee. “Iced tea?” he asked her.
“I’ll get it,” she said quickly. This was her second morning here, and she had no idea how long this stay might last. He certainly didn’t need to keep waiting on her hand and foot.
He didn’t argue, but cradled the mug of coffee in his hands while Caitlin fetched a glass, got some ice out of the freezer door, and then poured some tea from the jug into the glass. After she was done, she glanced out the kitchen window. It seemed to be another bright day, although the sky was speckled here and there with high, thin clouds.
“So,” she said, not quite able to meet his eyes. Goddess, she hoped this awkwardness would go away soon. How could she and Alex get anything accomplished if they kept trying to dodge what had happened between them the night before? And that had only been a kiss. What would have happened if they’d ended up in bed together?
She decided she really didn’t want to think about that now.
“So,” Alex said, and then he shot her an inquiring glance. “I assume there were no visions last night?”
“Nothing,” she replied, not bothering to keep her disgust at herself out of her voice. “Not even a bad dream. So I don’t have anything new to offer.”
He didn’t appear all that disappointed. “Well, the day is young. Let’s have some breakfast and worry about dreams and visions after our stomachs are full.”
Since there didn’t seem to be anything else to do, she went along with him on that plan, nuking another breakfast burrito, grabbing the last banana after Alex insisted she have it. They were sitting at the breakfast bar and finishing the last of their food when the doorbell rang.
“Are you expecting someone?” Caitlin asked, glancing at the clock on the microwave. Nine forty-five. A little early for visitors, but not horribly so.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Alex replied. He hopped off his stool and headed for the front door, and Caitlin did the same, praying the visitor wasn’t Marie Begonie, returned to give the wayward McAllister witch the chewing-out she should have gotten the day before.
But no, when Alex opened the door, Caitlin could see at once that the person outside wasn’t Marie. She’d never seen this man before — he looked to be in his late thirties or maybe early forties, Hispanic, not quite as tall as Alex, and definitely not as in shape. His rounded stomach was obvious even under the baggy bowling-style shirt he wore.
“Miguel?” Alex said.
Miguel. The private investigator from Mesa that Alex had mentioned the day before. What the heck was he doing here?
“Morning, Alex.” The man’s dark eyes shifted from Alex to where Caitlin stood behind him. “Caitlin.”
She started at his casual use of her name, and Miguel seemed to smile at her discomfiture.