Breathe by Lauren Jameson Page A

wore a suit: as if he’d been born for it. And Samantha suspected that he was the kind of man who took care of what was his.
    Her knee-jerk reaction to refuse his offer to help her explore her sexuality came from her mother’s “career” as a mistress—she knew that. She would have felt the same whether she’d already succumbed to her desire for him or not. But she was so damn tired of being in charge all the time.
    Rising slowly, Samantha inhaled deeply, then stretched as she looked out the window. The sun was rising, a tangerine ball in a brilliant blue sky. She’d always loved Mexico—had felt more at peace here than she had anywhere else. It was the first place that had come to mind when she realized she needed to put some distance between herself and her mother to focus on her art . . . and her sanity. Pouring herself another cup of coffee, she sipped slowly, savoring the taste. She’d thought about submission long enough to know that it was more than a passing fancy for her. And she knew—deep down she knew—that she would work hard for the money that Elijah had offered her, which made it a different situation from Gemma’s entirely.
    But that didn’t mean she had to accept easily. She had a term that she wanted to add to Elijah’s offer, one she’d come up with in the early hours of the morning. One she suspected he would be both suspicious of and eager to accept.
    She’d convince him. And she was very much looking forward to seeing the look on his face when she asked. She just had one thing to do first.
    •   •   •
    “P reciosa!” Samantha couldn’t hold back the grin as she entered Dos Hermanos, the small café that sat on the edge of San José del Cabo closest to her cottage.
    The man who rounded the counter with his arms open for a hug was only an inch or so taller than she was, but he was thick with muscle. He was handsome in a Latin-lover kind of way and flirted with every woman under the sun, from girls who were newly legal to elderly women with blue hair.
    “Morning, Jorge.” She let herself be enfolded in his hug, inhaling the comforting aroma of peppers and spice. “Got room for one for breakfast?”
    He gestured around the largely empty café, then tilted his head toward the counter. The grill he cooked on was behind it, and those who sat at the counter could watch their food being prepared.
    “Come, sit and talk to me.” He took Samantha’s hand in his as he led her toward the back of the café.
    Samantha sat contentedly on one of the high stools. Jorge was the closest thing she had to a friend in Cabo, and she smiled at him as he placed a steaming cup of coffee and a glass of some sort of juice in front of her.
    “You’ll eat what I make you, yes?” Samantha’s grin at his words melted into a sigh of pleasure as she took a sip of what turned out to be freshly made mango juice.
    She’d never understood why the café wasn’t busier. The thought was only reinforced when Jorge placed a plateful of eggs scrambled ranchero style, with jalapeños and tomato, homemade tortillas, and green sauce in front of her. She dug in eagerly.
    “Still haven’t learned to cook, ah?” Jorge chuckled as he leaned his elbows on the counter and watched Samantha devour her meal. She’d lost track of time since seeing Elijah yesterday . . . In fact, she was pretty sure she hadn’t eaten since before he’d showed up at her house. She cringed. She would have given Beth hell for doing the same thing, so she really didn’t have a leg to stand on.
    Jorge was quiet as Samantha ate, which suited her just fine. She’d always been quiet, a bit of a loner. One of the reasons she preferred him to his brother Angelo, who co-owned the café, was because Jorge just let her be.
    But Angelo was the reason that Samantha was there that morning. She had a very, very big favor to ask of him.
    “Jorge—” She waited until he’d cleared her plate away and refilled her coffee cup. She felt