Summer Dreams by Hebby Roman Page A

special male-scent that was all his own---a heady mixture of spicy cologne and sun-kissed flesh.
    Their embrace spun out longer than the requisite split-second, but neither of them seemed to mind. Folded in his arms, she dreamed about how it would feel to nestle in his arms all night, savoring his tender embrace for as long as she wanted.    
    Esteban was the one who finally broke the contact. 
    But he caught her hands and gazed at her. "I want you to celebrate with me, Natalia. Even though, I know how unsure you are about us dating." He dropped his gaze and started at his cowboy boots as if an inspiration might be written on their pointed-toes. "Or I thought I knew how unsure you were before today?"     
    She wanted to ask him what kind of celebratory date he had in mind. But that didn't seem right if her enthusiasm was genuine. She shouldn't build in safeguards to be with him.
    He raised his head. "I don't want to celebrate with anyone but you. You've been there since I started playing ball. Only you know how much this means to me."
    Touched by his sentiment, she knew it was now or never. Should she ignore her head and go with the stirrings of her heart? She had wanted him to ask her out tonight, hadn't she? And as hard as she'd tried to convince herself that an invitation to the bazaar was somehow different than a real date, she knew she was fooling herself. How could she turn down such an invitation? It didn't mean they'd have to start dating. It only meant she would share his happiness over this very special event in his life.
    "I'd love to celebrate with you, Esteban," she said.

Chapter Six
     
    Hector glanced over his shoulder before entering the bar. His Jaguar stuck out like a sore thumb on the garbage-strewn street. It was a good thing it was equipped with the latest in car alarms, otherwise, it would be gone in under twenty minutes. And even with an alarm, he wasn't sure the Jag would be there when he got back.
    Cursing softly under his breath, he couldn't understand why Paulo Pérez had chosen a run-down bar in Oak Cliff. As areas in Dallas went, some parts of Oak Cliff were places he tried to avoid. Drug deals and drive-by shootings were as common here as block parties in the 'burbs.
    When he entered the bar, it took his eyes several minutes to adjust. Under a low-lying cloud of cigarette smoke, a sagging, grime-stained bar lined the right-hand wall. Rust-scarred aluminum tables and chairs huddled in the middle. The back wall boasted a huge cherry-red jukebox, cranking out hip-hop music. Two half-busted doors flanked either side of the juke, leading to the bathrooms.
    A handful of customers clustered at the far end of the bar, their attention riveted on the big screen TV. One table held a man and a woman, their heads so close together Hector wasn't sure if they were talking or making out.
    Pérez was nowhere in sight. 
    Hector wiped the palms of his perspiring hands on his faded jeans. He could cheerfully throttle Pérez for being late. He gulped back his rising anxiety and walked to the center of the bar, keeping his distance from the crowd at the end. He straddled a bar stool and motioned to the bartender. 
    The man looked him over, shifted a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other and asked, "What'll it be, mister?"
    "A beer, please."
    "Draft or bottle, light or regular? Any particular brand, mister?"
    Accustomed to ordering locally-brewed designer ales at Dallas' finest watering holes, Hector wasn't sure what to order and the last thing he wanted to do was appear conspicuous. He looked around to see what other people were drinking.
    "How about a Bud Light."
    Turning, the bartender fished a can from the cooler behind him. "Want a glass?"
    "No, that's fine, just the can." No one else was drinking from a glass.
    "Here, mister." The bartender plunked a sweaty can in front of him. "That'll be two
    fifty."
    Hector fumbled for his money clip and withdrew three ones. "Keep the change."
    The