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  DESIRE

  LOVE DESIRED SERIES

  CASSIE VERANO

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  THIS EBOOK IS A WORK of fiction. Names, characters, places, and situations are complete creative works of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.

  Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book or any portion thereof is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

  Copyright © 2020 Cassie Verano

  All Rights Reserved

  Contact Me:

  [email protected]

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 2 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 3 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 4 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 5 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 6 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 7 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 8 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 9 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 10 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 11 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 12 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 13 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 14 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 15 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 16 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 17 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 18 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 19 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 20 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 21 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 22 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 23 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 24 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 25 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 26 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 27 – ZYMIR

  CHAPTER 28 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 29 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 30 – KARINA

  CHAPTER 31 – ZYMIR

  EPILOGUE – CHAPTER 32 – ZYMIR (9 Months Later)

  PORTUGUESE GLOSSARY OF TERMS

  SNEAK PEEK AT HIDDEN

  JOIN MY MAILING LIST

  CHAPTER 1 – KARINA

  “Damnit!” I cried out, slamming the hood of my car.

  I’d known I needed to trade this Mercedes in for a newer car two years ago, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Of course, when I needed it most, it would let me down.

  Jerking the door handle up, I pulled the door open and plopped back into the driver’s seat.

  I turned the ignition, closing my eyes, and uttering a prayer.

  “Please...please, just this once. Turnover. Even if you don’t get me...”

  Click. Click. Click.

  I gave it some gas, but it still wouldn’t turn over.

  “Damnit!” I shouted again, banging my fist against the steering wheel.

  I accidentally hit the horn, which caused me to jump. How in the hell had I startled myself?

  I waited patiently, or as calmly as I could for an entire minute before I tried again.

  Nothing but that damned clicking. I pressed the hood release button.

  Pushing the car door open, I walked around to the hood of the car again.

  Staring underneath the hood of my car didn’t bring any more answers than it had brought before. The only awareness that I had was that I had no clue what the hell I was looking at. Just a bunch of metal and wires were interconnecting with one another.

  “Piece of shit!” I cried, slamming the hood down and kicking the tire.

  Glancing down at my attire, I was astonished to see that I had an oil stain on the front of my crème slacks.

  “They’re ruined,” I moaned.

  There was no way that I would ever get it out. These were my lucky pants, but I guess they couldn’t be too lucky because this day wasn’t going as planned at all.

  Glancing at my watch, I noticed I had less than forty minutes to get to my meeting. Blowing out a breath, I decided to order an Uber and change my clothes within the limited window of time remaining.

  “Damn you!” I screamed at my car as I turned around and headed inside.

  Within ten minutes, I had changed my outfit and now wore a tan and black contrasting pencil dress. The three-quarter sleeves were perfect for this spring day, and the black belt cinching the midsection of the dress outlined my trim waistline.

  Slipping my feet into a black pair of pumps, I grabbed my purse and keys and headed for the front door again. I’d ordered the Uber before I changed clothes and unfortunately still had another ten minutes before one arrived.

  In a much calmer mood, I hoped my energy would relay to the car, and it would start now. Never comfortable with public transportation, I wasn’t too fond of the idea of catching an Uber. But if I wanted to make this meeting, I didn’t see that I had much choice remaining.

  My mouth dropped open at the sight before me when I stepped outside on the porch.

  My car hood was up, and I was certain that I’d let it down before coming into the house. Not only was the hood up, but I could also see that someone was bent underneath there.

  Grabbing my can of mace from my purse, I hustled down the stairs.

  “Hey! Hey! What are you doing? Get the hell away from my car!” I shouted.

  A head popped from underneath, and I froze in place.

  Him? What the hell was he doing on my property?

  “Ma’am, I saw dat you were in distress a little while ago. Before I could get your attention, you’d made it into the house, and I just thought I’d stop by to see what the problem is. I mean, I might be able to help.”

  I noticed he had an accent, but I couldn’t quite place where he was from. He exchanged the “th” on some words for the letter “d.” But not on every word. And his “r’s” were thick and rolled just a little.

  Turning my nose up at him, I took in his greasy coveralls, my eyes slowly dragging up to the oil slickened hands, and further to his head.

  Oh, Gawd!

  “I didn’t ask for your help, did I? You’re trespassing, you know!” I shouted, drawing slowly closer to him.

  “I know, but...we’re neighbors and all and ‘das what neighbors are for. Right?”

  “Look, that’s a 1987 Mercedes—”

  “300 SL from the R107 series. It’s a collector’s edition. Yeah, I know,” he finished.

  I tilted my head sideways and cleared my throat. He’d caught me off guard with that tidbit of information. How’d he know?

  “Well, then you know that you shouldn’t be touching it. Only certified mechanics with the expertise and skills required to handle foreign cars should be found anywhere near her. Not your routine, neighborhood mechanic,” I said, eyeing him up and down again.

  He straightened up once I made that comment, and I could tell he was taller than I’d originally thought. I wasn’t a short woman by any stretch of the imagination. At five-nine, I could tell that he was at least six inches taller than me.

  He crossed his arms over his midsection and began working his jaw back and forth.

  “Ma’am, I’m very qualified to handle your car.”

  I scoffed. “I’m sure you are. Anyway, if you don’t mind leaving, I have a ride on the way. Please, leave now,” I said, waving a hand to shoo him away.

  The scowl on his face deepened, and the intensity in his clear eyes grew heavier. Pulling a hand down his face, he took a step closer to me, and I stepped back.

  “Look, ma’am. I’m not trying to take advantage of you, and I saw dat you were frustrated earlier. There’s no mechanic within a twenty-five-mile radius of us dat’s qualified to handle your car. I know you don’t know me, but I’m just a good neighbor. I don’t want anything; I just w
anted to check on you and make sure you were okay. My grandmother is in town visiting, and she was outside watching, too. She sent me over,” he said, pointing at his house across the street.

  For the first time, I took notice of the older woman standing on the porch, peering at us.

  When my gaze met hers, she beamed and waved an excited hand.

  Sighing, I shook my head, because I didn’t want to be disrespectful to my elders.

  “Look, maybe you can come by some other time and take a look at it. Right now, I need to be on my way. I’m late for a meeting,” I said, glancing at my phone.

  Now how in the hell did the Uber driver still have ten minutes? It had shown that minutes earlier before I left the house. Not to mention, I could also tell it had turned into an Uber Pool. I didn’t want to share a ride with someone else.

  Lord knows if I’d be dropped off first or have to wait until the other passenger was.

  “I can give you a ride to wherever you need to go. I don’t mind,” my neighbor offered.

  Frowning, I said, “Excuse me. In what?”

  I couldn’t imagine that he’d have anything that I wanted to ride in that wasn’t covered in oil.

  “My truck,” he said, pointing to an all-black Jeep with tinted windows and big tires.

  I’d seen him driving that thing around with the loud music playing.

  “I don’t think so,” I replied.

  “Everything okay?” I heard his grandmother call from across the street.

  He turned in her direction and nodded his head and waved his hand. I could tell he appeared to be a little frustrated, but I didn’t care. I never asked him to intervene in my tragic situation.

  “Ma’am, you said you were late for a meeting. I honestly don’t think dat you’re going to get there any time soon with this car. You need a new starter. But truthfully, I don’t mind giving you a ride,” he offered again.

  It had to be his grandmother that was giving him the patience of Job. Because despite his offer, I could see the strains of aggravation lining his face. With another glance at my cellphone, I realized time was ticking away.

  Only twenty minutes were remaining until my appointment time.

  “Fine,” I said, blowing out a breath.

  “Cool, where are you going?”

  “Strawberry Falls,” I said, naming a nearby neighboring town.

  Nodding his head, he said, “All right. I’ll grab my Jeep and pull over here and pick you up.”

  “Sure,” I mumbled, pulling up the Uber app once again and canceling my ride.

  I had no idea why I was going along when the last thing I wanted was to be cooped up in a car with him. The damned vehicle probably smelled like weed. With those blondish-sandy-brown dreads in his head, I had no doubt he was a smoker of all things ganja.

  And if that weren’t enough, the tattoos peeking from under the sleeves of his coveralls was more than enough to prove to me he was bad news. From the moment he’d moved in across the street, I’d worried about him bringing down the value of our neighborhood.

  There hadn’t been a sound coming from his side of the street as of yet, other than the music pouring from his Jeep. Although I knew it was only a matter of time. After all, he’d only been here a year.

  I suspected if he were to cut those dreads, cover up his tattoos, and kick whatever drug habit I was certain he possessed; he might be a good-looking guy. Kind of young, but cute just the same. Some younger girls might be happy to have him. Because despite my certainty that he was a good for nothing thug, I couldn’t deny my body had its reaction to him.

  And from the look in those gorgeous bluish-grey eyes, I could tell he sensed it. With a smirk tilting those full, pouty lips, he turned away and headed across the street.

  That tawny skin of his with underlying hints of terra-cotta reminded me of heated caramel in the pan. Light in some spots, dark in others, but potent all the same. The good kind that when you tasted it, you knew it was from good stock.

  CHAPTER 2 – ZYMIR

  Damnit! I hissed internally. That grandmother of mine kept me in some shit. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck with my neighbor from across the street.

  We’d never formally met, but I knew she was hell. I could tell from the way she turned her nose up at me every time we made eye contact. The few times I’d waved at her, she’d turned away in a huff, rolling her eyes.

  And now here I was pulling out of my driveway to take her somewhere. I’d just gotten home when I spotted her out in her driveway, acting like a madwoman. All I wanted was to go home, shower, and get some breakfast before heading to bed.

  I’d had a late night helping out a friend who’d broken down on the way to Raleigh. I’d gotten no sleep at all. Luckily, I had nothing scheduled on the agenda today. Well, at least, I hadn’t before this. No thanks to my grandmother, who was sitting on my porch when I arrived home.

  Three more days. That’s all I had remaining of my meddling grandma before she returned home to Rio. I smiled as I pulled into the woman’s driveway, thinking about my sweet grandma. She meant well, I know she did, but it still didn’t make it easy for me.

  I hopped out of my Jeep and walked around to open the passenger door for my neighbor. She was standing there, waiting with her arms crossed expectantly. Lucky for her, I was a gentleman. Not only that, but she was fortunate that my grandma was sitting on that porch swing watching.

  After we settled into the Jeep, I pulled out.

  “Where to?” I asked.

  She turned her head in my direction and seemed to be studying me.

  “Ma’am...where are we going to?” I repeated, disturbed by her rude behavior.

  “Oh, to the Strawberry Falls Convention Center. Are you familiar with that location?” she asked.

  “Yes, I am,” I replied.

  She nodded and turned her gaze back to her phone.

  Stretching my hand in her direction, I said, “Zymir.”

  “What?” she asked, scrunching her nose up and staring at my hand as if it were diseased.

  “My name is Zymir Espinola.”

  She glanced away from my hand and replied, “Mmm.”

  “What?”

  “Espinola?”

  “It’s Brazilian. I’m Afro-Brazilian,” I explained.

  She nodded her head and turned her attention back to her phone.

  This chick was a trip. How in the hell was she riding in my vehicle, with me taking time out of my schedule to transport her somewhere, and she didn’t have the decency to be polite. I guess she didn’t understand the meaning of being neighborly or had never heard of it. Because she was determined to uphold that façade.

  She was just a pigheaded woman, or what we’d call cabeça-dura, hard-headed.

  “So, the polite thing would be to tell me your name, too,” I said.

  “Why?” she asked, turning to face me as though it had never occurred to her to do such a thing.

  Chuckling, I glanced at her and away again. There wasn’t a damned thing funny, but I just didn’t get this woman.

  “Well, usually when people meet each other, they exchange names and polite greetings. Especially if dey’re neighbors, and even more so if the other is doing one a favor,” I explained.

  “But I didn’t ask you to. As a matter of fact, I distinctly recall you persisting and me telling you that I was fine.”

  “Yeah, well...my grandma,” I said lamely with a shrug. “But I also recall you having an issue dat you didn’t seem to have an immediate resolution to.”

  Almost three minutes passed of us riding in complete silence before she broke it. She exhaled loudly through her nose, turned her phone over in her lap, and glared at me.

  “Karina Kendricks,” she said.

  Nodding my head, I poked my lips out slightly.

  “And she has a name,” I mumbled.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m just trying to figure out why’re you so mean
and rude. I haven’t done anything to you.”

  “Oh, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, turning to glance at her again.

  “Yes. People like you are always doing something to ruin the neighborhood.”

  “Wow!” I nodded my head and poked my lips out further. “People like me. And dat would be what specifically?”

  “You know. Young boys who drive these vehicles designed to attract lots of attention. Boys who play music loudly because they’re so insecure they need the entire world looking at them, and this is their way of saying ‘look at me! I made it! I did something significant with my life!’ And boys like you who wear their hair like that and ink up their bodies because they don’t value themselves.”

  “The first time she says a mouthful, and it’s all garbage,” I said, looking back out the window.

  “Do you think so?”

  “Yeah, I know so because you don’t know me, but you’ve already judged me.”

  She laughed. “As if you haven’t done the same.”

  “You make it hard not to.”

  “Okay, fine. Tell me, what do you see when you see me?” Karina challenged.

  Glancing at her again and then back to the road, I paused and considered that for a moment.

  “Exactly.”

  “No, wait, give me a minute,” I countered.

  Looking at her again as I pulled up to the center, I said, “I see a gorgeous African-American woman who seems to be very intelligent, confident, and independent. But somewhere along the way, she’s been hurt, and she puts up a façade to keep the world at bay. She doesn’t want people to get to know her, so she’d rather allow them to infer whatever they will about her. Even if it causes dem to categorize her erroneously. She’s insecure for some reason, so her confidence comes off stronger as she tries to portray an attitude of strength. But deep down, she just needs someone to believe in her, protect her, and guard her heart.”

  Karina stared at me for a few moments, her eyebrows dipping down further, and those full lips twitching. She was at a moment of indecision, but her go-to behavior won out in the end.

  Pushing the door to my Jeep open, she didn’t wait for me to come to her side. She hopped out and said, “Thanks for the ride.”