Desert Heat Read online

  That sexy brow lifted as he turned to her, and for a moment she was tempted to brag about her success in none other than Hollywood, the capital of the entertainment world. If you could make it there you could make it anywhere, and she nearly had. But she knew she shouldn’t tell him—couldn’t.

  “Really, wow.” His smile was sweet now, genuinely impressed, not at all sensual like some of the times he’d smiled at her before. “So that’s why you came out to Vegas? Have you done any of the bigger theaters? You’re good enough to, you know.”

  “I have, actually.” She sat up suddenly, swelling with pride. This hardly compared to her gigs back in Hollywood, but at least she could talk about it openly. “I’ve had a few gigs singing in some of the bigger casino lounges.”

  His continued sincere smile made her smile, too, and her insides were all warm again even in the comfort of his air-conditioned car. She even giggled when he nearly missed that the light had turned green, he’d been so engrossed in listening to her. But she continued telling him about her Vegas successes as he drove. “I was an understudy for the lead role in Imagine at the Crown.”

  He turned to her, his eyes wide now. “Really? That’s a huge one. Did you ever get to stand in for her?”

  Her smile growing even sillier now, Bethany nodded enthusiastically. Oh, if she could only tell him about some of the roles she’d had before she moved here. Never in her life had she felt the need to impress anyone outside of the directors she auditioned for, and now she wanted to very badly. “I did. It was mostly during the week and in the day shows, but the girl that plays the lead had to go away to New York a few months ago, and I took on the role for the entire weekend.”

  “How’d you do?” He turned to her, his smile as big as her own smile felt.

  “I nailed it.” The laughter escaped her, and she was suddenly giddy. She hadn’t been able to brag about this to anyone but Simon and Amos, who were happy enough for her, but the ones who really mattered she didn’t dare tell, since she knew they’d be worried. Trinity, bless her heart, hadn’t even heard of Imagine but did pretend to be excited. “One of the biggest critics at the Sun News said I was better than Holly, who still has the lead.” She stopped smiling suddenly and shook her head. “Ever since then, Holly hasn’t missed a show.”

  “Of course not,” Damian said as they drove onto the highway. “I’ve seen and felt firsthand the effect you have on an audience. I completely understand why any other performer would be intimidated by you.”

  “Really?” Bethany tilted her head, giving up trying to calm her insides. Everything he said to her now, every time he looked at her, made her insides a little crazier. It was bordering on the absurd, but at the same time she was enjoying it. “Intimidated?”

  He turned to her with a confused expression. “You really don’t see it?”

  “No.” She shook her head, staring at him. “I mean I don’t think I’m an intimidating person.”

  “You probably think you’re not, but trust me, you can be.” That eyebrow went up again with a smirk. “You have this aura of self-confidence about you. But not in a conceited way,” he added quickly. “There’s just nothing about you that says you’re not nervous or even scared, like the night of the speed date.” He laughed softly, making her feel guilty about how cold she’d been to him that night. But before she could even begin to try to explain, he went on. “And when you said those thugs outside your apartment didn’t scare you. Maybe in instances like that, you’re a little too sure of yourself—dangerously so. At any rate, that kind of self-confidence can be intimidating, since most people are just the opposite.” The smirk turned into an all-out smile, though his gaze seemed to seep deeper into her each time he looked at her, as he did now. “Although I think it’s sexy as hell.”

  As sure of herself as he seemed to think she was, her insides were officially a hot mess. Unable to look into those concentrated eyes anymore, she gulped, glancing out into the dirt and Joshua tree–lined highway. They were getting farther away from the city and driving deeper into the desert. She should be concerned. Here she was letting this near stranger drive her out to God knows where in the middle of the desert. Instead she felt strangely safe being with him. Add to that an inappropriate amount of exhilaration she was feeling because he’d just said she was sexy as hell, and she knew she should be scolding herself, not basking in the pleasure of it.

  “Well,” she finally responded, but wouldn’t touch the sexy as hell comment. “I don’t mean to come across as overconfident, but in the entertainment industry you have to have swagger.”

  “Swagger,” he said, nodding in agreement. “That’s exactly what you have.”

  “But I’m also an actress,” she reminded him. “Not all of it is real.”

  “Interesting,” he said as he pulled off the highway onto a paved but lonely desert road that seemed to lead out to nowhere. “It’ll be fun getting to know the two sides of Bethany.”

  Getting to know? She’d let the comment simmer for a moment. She should be dismissing the comment. When she’d agreed to come out here with him, she had no intention of letting this become anything more than just a break from her monotonous routine. The excitement of suddenly realizing this man wanted to get to know her better was unreal. Deciding it’d be safer if she didn’t mention it, she changed the subject. “Should I be worried?”

  “About what?” His eyes focused on her now.

  “About this,” she said, pointing out onto the lonesome desert road. “Here I am with a guy I hardly know who claims he’s a cop, but for all I know he could be a serial killer, driving me out to the middle of nowhere.”

  His expression eased into an understanding smile. “No, but I’m glad you are.” He motioned to the glove compartment with his chin, and for a moment Bethany was distracted by the crazy, sexy, hard chin with that perfect cleft. “Open it.”

  Looking away before he caught her gawking, she glanced back at the glove compartment and did as she was asked to.

  “Don’t touch the gun,” he warned gently. Seeing the gun in the holster should’ve scared her, but instead it excited her. It was big, daunting, and, dare she say it? It was sexy—just like Damian. “Grab my wallet.”

  She hadn’t even noticed the black leather wallet just inches from the gun. She took it and began to hand it to him.

  “No, open it,” he said very seriously. “Amos and Simon saw it, but I forgot you didn’t actually get to see it. It’s a good thing you’d question whether I’m actually a cop. You’d be surprised how many guys try passing themselves off as one. I’m glad you’re being cautious. Examine it.”

  For a moment she hesitated, feeling kind of bad now. She didn’t actually think he might be lying. She was just trying to change the subject. But since he was glad she had, she once again did as she was told. On one side of the wallet was a heavy, star-shaped, shiny metal badge with the word “Detective” at the very top and the words “Las Vegas” at the top of the metal ring in the center of the star. Nevada was just under that, then at the bottom of the ring was the word “Police.” With a big gulp she traced with her finger the cold metal along the wording before bringing her attention to the ID card on the other side with a headshot of Damian. This was a hardcore reminder that she was playing with fire, allowing herself to be here in this car with him. But even with that reminder she couldn’t help smiling at the hardened look on his face in the photo, since her impression of him was hardly that of a hard-ass man. Sure he seemed a no-nonsense kind of guy and she had no doubt a man with his build and stature could kick some ass. And while she had seen a bit of his concerned, protective side, she liked to think of him as more of a sexy sweetheart than a hard-ass. But even in the photo, he was all kinds of sexy.

  After reading the very official-looking State of Nevada stuff and his title, she got to his name. “Detective Damian Nicholas Santiago.” She turned to Damian at the sound of his muffled laugh and saw him smirking but staring straight ahead. His hands opened, then
gripped the wheel again, bringing her attention to just how much muscle he had on his suddenly flexing arm muscles. “What?”

  He shook his head, still not looking her way. “Nothing, I just . . .”

  “I just what?”

  “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard my name sound as good as when you say it.”

  Swagger. She had to remember she had swagger. Simple compliments like these should not be making her feel like swooning. She needed to get hold of herself, but she was already smiling like an idiot. It couldn’t be helped; everything he said to her rang positively genuine. These were no lines.

  “Most people wouldn’t pick up on it, it’s so subtle, but I did the moment I first heard you speak—your accent. Were you born here or in Mexico?”

  The smile was instantly axed. She had no idea anyone could still catch the accent. Nobody, not Simon or Amos or Trinity or anyone she’d met out here, until now, had mentioned it. “I was born here,” she said, trying not to sound defensive, but she closed the wallet and put it back in the glove compartment, shutting it a little harder than she should have. “I just had a lot of family on the other side—Nogales, over the border—so I spent a lot of time over there. Not to mention my parents always spoke Spanish.”

  “Okay,” he said, glancing at her, obviously picking up on more than just her accent. Bethany wasn’t sure she liked that he was a detective so much anymore. This was just another reminder that she was playing with fire. He was a little too perceptive. “I didn’t mean anything by it, you know? I’m rather fond of it, actually.”

  “I just didn’t think it was still noticeable.”

  “Like I said, Bethany, to the untrained ear—and that’s most people—it’s probably barely discernible, if at all. But I’ve been training for many years to pick up on even the tiniest things that set one person apart from another. It’s important in my line of work.”

  She turned to him, after refusing to look at him for a few moments, and peered at him now. “How is picking up on an accent important in your line of work?”

  He lifted and dropped a very muscular and distracting shoulder as he turned into an even-more-abandoned-looking dirt road. “If a suspect is described as having a certain accent, it’s likely he’ll try to mask it if ever questioned. It’s as important as being able to tell if someone is a true blond or if he dyed his hair to disguise himself. Just like the color of your hair, an accent can distinguish you from someone else.” With a smile that nearly melted her, he turned to her and their eyes locked once again. “But unless you’re trying to disguise who you are, I don’t see why someone picking up on your accent would bother you.”

  Refusing to give him a single thing more to “detect,” she looked away quickly. She needed to change the subject again, and fast. “Okay, so now I’m starting to worry,” she said, staring ahead at nothing but dirt, desert, and a rock mountain ahead. “Where exactly are you taking me out here in the middle of nowhere that’s supposed to thrill me? I’m beginning to have flashbacks of Brad Pitt holding a gun to Kevin Spacey’s head out in the desert.”

  Damian laughed, nodding. “Oh, yeah, I guess this is a bit reminiscent of that. I can’t wait for you to see, Bethany. I really can’t. It’s really going to be something,” he said, sounding as creepy as the serial killer in that movie.

  Bethany stared at him until the corner of his lips tugged, then laughed. “Oh, my God!” She couldn’t help laughing now herself. “Did you really just remember that word for word, or do I need to start freaking out because this whole thing is a setup?”

  His sexy laugh did things to her, and she prayed she really hadn’t been coerced here by this incredibly hot but possibly demented guy. “Relax. Obviously I’m a fan of movies that involve detective work. But I promise I’m perfectly harmless. I think you’ll understand when we turn the corner of that mountain up ahead.”

  Bethany wasn’t so sure about him being harmless. A man like Damian could easily crush her heart. The tension that had built from his previous comment was replaced now with utter curiosity. What in the world could be out here that he thought would thrill her? She wasn’t much of a nature fanatic. Even a hot spring or waterfall wouldn’t be all that exciting. Of course it might be a little romantic. Frustratingly, that excited her when she knew it shouldn’t.

  As they came to the mountain and began to turn the corner, she was literally at the edge of her seat. At first she didn’t get it—a huge gated warehouse completely hidden out here behind the mountains.

  They drove closer, and then she saw the familiar sign and logo. That’s when it began to make sense. Santiago. She turned to Damian, immediately seeing the resemblance, and her mouth fell open. “Are you related to . . .?”

  “Yep, my dad and younger brother run this place.” Damian nodded, smiling at her, obviously happy to see this was more than thrilling to her. She turned back to the warehouse, reading the words that ran across the top.

  Vintage Desert Heat

  Staring at it now, she had to keep her mouth from falling open. It hadn’t happened often in her life, but it was happening now. She’d been rendered speechless.

  Chapter 8

  Priceless—the look on Bethany’s face when she realized where they were and what this place was had exceeded any expectations Damian had of not only impressing her but exciting her as well. Once again controlling how hugely he smiled was proving to be impossible.

  After they got past the security fence, with her hands still at her mouth, Bethany glanced around wide-eyed, then looked back at Damian as he drove through the warehouse lot slowly. “Mace Santiago is your dad? And Dimitri is . . .” she paused, shaking her head as if she still couldn’t believe it.

  “Is my kid brother,” Damian finished for her.

  He didn’t think it possible, but those beautiful eyes of hers got even bigger. “So that makes Diego from the Desert Ratz your brother, too?”

  “Yep,” Damian nodded with a smile.

  Just when he thought her reaction couldn’t get any better, they came around the corner of the first building to the giant open warehouse doors of the second building.

  “No! The shop!” she said lifting her hands from her mouth to the sides of her face. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve watched your father and brother restore classic cars in that very shop?”

  “And go at it like junkyard dogs fighting for a bone?”

  Bethany laughed, but unlike her usual genuine laughter, this seemed nervous. As impressed as he was by her swagger, he could get used to this vulnerable side of her. “Are they really that high-strung?” she asked in a voice so low he had to laugh.

  “Oh, yeah,” he assured her. “It still amazes me that of all my siblings, Dimitri would be the one to hang around and wanna run this place with him. He and Mace are exactly alike. Sometimes I think his fuse is shorter than Mace’s. That’s why they butt heads so much. My sister works the back end, but she’s smart enough to stay far away from the shop.”

  “I didn’t even realize Dimitri had any siblings aside from Diego.”

  Damian smiled, pulling into the parking space, and turned off the car. “There are five of us.”

  “Five?” her eyes were wide and once again the bewilderment in her expression reminded him of his niece.

  “Yep.” He reached for the door handle and opened it. “My sister Fina is the oldest. Then it’s me. Then Diego, and there’s Dominic who lives in New York, and finally the youngest, Dimitri.”

  Once out of the car, he looked over the hood at Bethany, who was looking at him, her eyes full of questions, as he had known they would be. Everyone was when they found out he was related to the Santiagos of Vintage Desert Heat, one of the most popular reality shows on television for the past three years. Not to mention Diego’s band, Desert Ratz, was now headlining some of the bigger venues in Vegas.

  As he walked around the car to meet her, he decided to let her off the hook. He knew most people assumed he’d been snubbed by his family. Tha
t his not being part of the family business was not by choice. With all the growing fame and money that came with being one of the Santiagos of VDH, who in the world would choose not to be part of it? So asking him flat-out, he knew, was a bit awkward. “It’s not that I’m not into classic cars or restoring them. Because I am. I grew up around all this, and I’ve done a lot of restoring cars myself. Including this one,” he pointed at the Camaro they’d just gotten out of. “I just had a different calling than my father and Dimitri. This is what they love doing, and while I enjoy it, too, and still do it on my downtime, I’d always wanted to be a cop.”

  “And Diego a musician,” she said. “I really like his music, and I have so much respect for the fact that he’s stayed indie. I read somewhere that it was by choice, not from lack of any labels’ wanting to sign him.”

  “He almost signed,” Damian admitted. “But to Diego it’s never been about the money. He’s all about the music. They tried to take some of the band’s control over the kind of music and songs they wrote, and he said forget it. He’s perfectly content being a local band. But they still do some touring. He’s just very particular about the gigs he accepts out of town.”

  “But even though he’s got his own thing,” Bethany eyed him, “he still makes the occasional appearance on the show.”

  Damian nodded with a smile. “He doesn’t mind it. It’s good exposure for his band. Which, let me tell you, I was one of the original members of Desert Ratz when they first put it together way back in high school.”

  “Really?” her eyes went all bright again, and this officially confirmed that no one could make Damian smile as easily and often as Bethany could. “You’re a musician, too? What do you play?”

  “Bass guitar, but I also play the acoustic, and it’s what I usually grab these days when the mood strikes me. And I still get together with the guys every now and again and do some jamming.”