Miami Spice by Deborah Merrell Read Free Book Online

a
new client or two. Is that how you work sometimes?”
    “Well, I don’t go around jumping fences to
break into people’s houses and recommend a complete home makeover
when I’m caught in the act.”
    They both laughed at her brief foray into
witticism, and Erica found herself leaning closer towards her host.
She had barely touched her wine. His open, relaxed manner had
attracted her immediately. He seemed to have no hidden agendas, no
need to try and make a move on her. Suddenly, Erica wondered if
Nico slept in his brother’s bed. The other room contained nothing
in the way of a futon or mattress. Or did he sleep on the sofa?
    “So, what’s your preliminary verdict? Is my
brother worth saving?”
    The jury is still out on that one!
    She merely offered a design-inspired
conjecture. “I see quite a few possibilities and color
combinations. Does your brother plan to hang the paintings I found
in the other room?”
    Nico gave a quick shrug. “I suppose so.”
    “Then I propose we utilize a palette with
those colors in mind, work the rooms to compliment the
artwork.”
    Her host grinned. “Hum, I would never think
of that. But then again, I don’t presume to know my brother’s
intentions despite our genetic similarities.”
    He could certainly say that again. How did
two almost identical twins possess such varied personalities? Not
that Erica knew much about Gianni, though she knew enough to know a
self-involved, egocentric alpha male when she saw one. Nico Sloan
appeared just the opposite, a kind, perceptive, talented man. His
unassuming charm went a lot further than his brother’s aggressive
appeal.
    Suddenly, the artist reached for her glass,
plucked it from her fingers and deposited it on the crate along
with his own. He turned to his guest with an excited look. “I’m in
the mood for jazz music. What do you say? I have a feeling you
enjoy it as well, although, I’m not too familiar with the night
clubs here.” As he spoke, he slipped off his glasses, and Erica
could now see his clear, dark eyes.
    “I know the perfect place!” She leaned
forward, his enthusiasm suddenly infectious. “It’s a small but
comfortable club that offers a great jazz quartet.”
    “Should we take a cab? I do have a car, but
I’d hate to risk driving under the influence later. My treat, of
course.”
    She offered him a bright smile. “You have
yourself a date.”
    They spent the next few, wonderful hours at
Club Tropicana, a cubbyhole actually in a shopping strip. Its decor
of bright pink neon flamingos and green neon palm trees kept the
atmosphere from wallowing in total darkness. As the jazz combo
played a wide selection of numbers, Erica toe-tapped along with the
music and nursed her rum and Coke. With quiet frequency, she
glanced over at her companion and noticed Nico seemed to be
enjoying himself as he sipped his imported beer. When the combo
began a swing-era number, he leaned over and asked her to dance. To
her surprise and delight, she accepted eagerly even though Erica
considered herself a rather inept dancer. Yet once the couple hit
the dance floor, Nico guided her with fluid, easy grace.
    “You sure you can see all right without your
glasses?” she asked casually. Her “date” had not replaced them when
they left the apartment.
    “I only need them for close work,” Nico
revealed. “Of course, I’d like to get a little closer, but I don’t
need glasses to see and feel every inch of you.”
    Erica shivered with his unexpected
compliment, ripe with so many implications. Without a reply, she
tried to follow his moves as he danced them around the perimeter of
the floor. The only time she faltered was when he brought her
close, into his arms, cheek to cheek. The air around them seemed to
become hot and steamy, and she found her skin taking on a light
sheen of perspiration. Erica hoped her partner didn’t notice her
clammy hands. His sudden nearness caused her pulse to race and her
head to swim.
    She couldn’t