Private Acts

Samirah was used to getting attention. In fact, she thrived on it because, as the youngest of three, she’d sometimes felt overshadowed by the perfection of her older brother and sister. But something about this man’s attention unnerved her. He looked like he wanted to pop her in his mouth the way he had the savory snack.

She’d never seen him in the bar before, which was no surprise, since this was a gringo bar. He presented a feast for the eyes. A scar above his left eye sliced through his dark brow. The pale slice of fibrous tissue, rather than detracting from his physical appearance, served to enhance it by adding a dangerous edge to his features. The light blue pools of his eyes, almost piercing in their intensity, seemed to swallow her, a striking contrast to his dark hair and swarthy skin. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a good-looking man before, but his European and Amerindian features blended together to create a perfect storm of masculine beauty.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not polite to stare?” she asked.

“Can you blame me? You put on quite a show, Samirah.”

Sah-meerr-ah.

Having traveled all over the world, and with Miami as her home base, she was quite familiar with accents. Still, the sound of his voice, with his rich Spanish intonation saying her name, caused goose bumps to prickle her skin.

Samirah shrugged. “I like to have fun.”

“Have you ever won?”

“If I win tonight”—she held up three fingers—“it’ll be three weeks running.”

“After such enthusiastic applause, I can’t imagine anyone else robbing you of the title.”

“Neither can I.”

Samirah knew her singing sucked, as did most people who sang karaoke. To differentiate herself from the rest, she put on a big performance, and the audience loved it.

No one could really understand how much “I Will Survive” resonated with her after the rough six months she’d had back in Miami. After the embarrassment of getting fired from a job she loved, for months she hadn’t been able to find employment, and the tiny balance in her bank account had dwindled to zero. Her refrigerator had been so empty, if she’d yelled into it she would have heard an echo.

Ecuador’s currency was the U.S. dollar. If she managed to make as much tonight as she had the other nights, she would have over a thousand dollars to put in her savings. Not bad for five minutes a week.

“You’re very confident.”

Samirah laughed. “If I don’t believe in myself, who will?”

“True.” He picked up his bottle of beer and took a sip. “So where are you from, Samirah?”

“I like to think of myself as a citizen of the world.”

“Are you always so evasive?”

She smirked. “Daddy taught me never to talk to strangers. Consider yourself lucky I’ve carried on a conversation with you for the last few minutes.”

She took a good look at him, letting her eyes travel over his longish hair, swept back from his face to fall against the collar of his long-sleeved shirt. The white color emphasized the tan hue of his complexion. Her eyes settled below the open button where a necklace made of black cord rested against his chest. The cord supported a few colorful beads, in the middle of which hung the sharp white tooth of some predator.

His eyes narrowed to pale blue slits. “How can I get to know you better?”

“You can’t. Don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily. “You’re an attractive man, but I don’t feel like being bothered.”

One thick brow jumped in surprise. He probably wasn’t used to being turned down. She couldn’t believe she’d managed to do it herself, considering how attractive she found him.

“So you think I’m a bother?”

“Like I said, don’t take it the wrong way, but I’m not in Ecuador for long.”

“All the more reason why we should get to know each other quickly.”

She cocked a brow at him. “Do you ever give up?”

“Not when I see something I want,” he drawled.