From Enemy's Daughter to Expectant Bride (8 page)

“I never make empty promises.”

“Sure, because you intend to come back to visit an orphaned boy. Because you intend to place all your resources at the disposal of destitute nuns in a backstreet orphanage.”

“That’s exactly what I will do.”

The imperious conviction with which he said that! Last night, she would have believed him without reservations. She would have had as many stars in her eyes as the kids and nuns had when they looked at him. She would have believed him to be the superhero or the angel they believed he was. He’d been even more to her. The sum total of her fantasies. Then he’d walked away and slapped her with the truth.
His
truth.

The horrible part was that even knowing it, she couldn’t
feel
it. Let alone see it. He felt and looked sincere and forthright. Not to mention even more gorgeous. The harsh shadows of the beard and what looked like haggardness made him devastating. Even the casual clothes that were nothing like his impeccable attire last night made him more ruggedly sexual. She felt downright dowdy in comparison.

His left arm holding her, the splint digging deliciously into her lower back, he gently swept her bangs away from her eyes. “You were breathtaking in that evening gown. But in this sweater and jeans, with your face scrubbed clean and your hair swinging behind you like a spirited mare’s tail, you look even more...edible. And I’m starving for you.”

She pushed against him harder, making him release her this time. “How do you do this trick? When you appear to read my mind? It must be your handiest one in getting stupid chicks like me to fall in your arms.”

His lips thinned disapprovingly. “First, you’re the very opposite of stupid. Second, I’m not interested in ‘chicks.’ I want only you to fall in my arms. Third, it’s not a trick. We are on the same wavelength.”

“Yeah, sure. How nice. Well, I can’t say it was nice seeing you again. I would have rather broken a toe.”

Knowing she sounded childish, she flounced away. He fell into step with her at once.

“Come with me. We need to talk.” She turned to blast him and he added, “And to have each other.”

His words, his tone painted such erotic images—Ellie winced with longing.

But she needed to settle one thing. “Listen—about that. Thank you for what you did last night. Or what you
didn’t
do. Whatever the reason you did pull back, I’m grateful.”

He brooded down at her. “I told you why I pulled back.”

“Yeah, for me...and all that. I said I don’t care why you did it, but I’m thankful anyway. It would have been a far worse mess if you hadn’t. But you can drop the act now.”

“This is no act.”

She exhaled in exasperation. “I don’t blame you for walking away, okay? It’s what every man should do when he realizes he’s dealing with a naive fool who’ll be more trouble than she’s worth. It’s only natural you’d go for the more beautiful, sophisticated woman who actually looks like she’s out of her teens, who doesn’t say, ‘Oops, I didn’t meant to go that far that fast,’ then ask you to postpone taking your pleasure until she’s ready. But what I don’t understand is why you’re back. If the redhead you spent the night with didn’t satisfy you, and you’re wishing you’d stuck with your first, if inferior, choice, I’m sorry. My temporary insanity has already lifted.”

“I spent the night alone, suffering the most agonizing sustained arousal I’ve ever experienced. And you were and will remain my only choice. After all, I choose only the absolute best.”

God, how did he do this? How did he sound so...convincing?

Wanting to smack herself for wanting to believe him still, she smirked. “A likely story. But whatever the real one is, just leave me alone. As you partner so unkindly pointed out, I’m not in your league.”

“Eliana...”

“Taxi!”

She streaked away from his side as the cab she’d yelled for skidded to a halt, as usual barely missing her. Cabdrivers in Brazil had perfected the art of almost hitting their passengers while stopping to pick them up.

Before Rafael could detain her, she’d jumped into the cab, counting on the driver to make it impossible for him to catch up. The driver didn’t disappoint her. Even before she told him her address, he screeched away as if to continue a rally race.

She snatched a look backward as they shot through the mayhem that was Rio’s evening traffic and saw Rafael standing like a monolith, feet planted apart, hands fisted at his sides, looking the image of volcanic frustration.

Biting down on the urge to yell for the driver to take her back to him, she slumped in her seat. Buckling her seat belt, she tried to let being knocked about by the nerve-racking driving and the subsequent cacophony of horns and road rage distract her.

But his face was all she saw; his taste remained on her tongue, his breath still flaying her cheeks, his hands and hardness imprinted on every inch of her flesh.

She groaned with the severity of the phantom sensations, with craving the real thing. But she’d put an end to any possibility of that. He must have expected she’d fall into his arms again, and now that she hadn’t, he’d walk away. For good this time. Which was what she hoped...because any more exposure would compound the damage, scar her permanently.

She suddenly hurtled forward before being brutally yanked back by her seat belt. It took her petrified moments to realize the accident she’d been anticipating hadn’t finally happened. It was only the taxi coming to a violent stop in front of her apartment building in Ipanema.

After paying the driver, and thanking him for scaring her enough to take her mind off Rafael, she left the taxi on jellified legs. They hadn’t solidified much by the time she entered her one-bedroom apartment on the twenty-sixth floor.

She’d fallen in love with this place the moment she’d seen it. A beachfront unit with wonderful northern exposure, the apartment was high enough to afford her magnificent views of Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas in daylight, and of the glittering Rio skyline at night.

Finding this place had mitigated her reluctance to be in Brazil. She hadn’t wanted to move here, but two months ago, her father had begged her to join him while he pursued the partnership with Rafael. She’d agreed on the condition that she wouldn’t stay with him in his villa in Copacabana. He’d been crestfallen, since he’d thought this would be a chance to have her back in his nest after she’d moved out of his Marin County home over a year ago.

Knowing how much he missed being a father hen to her, she’d almost weakened on the living arrangements. But as long as he had her at home, he was content. She didn’t want him content. She wanted him lonely, so he’d do something about the gem he had right under his nose, the gorgeous fifty-two-year-old Isabella Da Costa, who’d been his loyal PA for the past four years.

Whenever she encouraged him, her father reiterated that he was a one-woman man, and he’d lost that woman. And every time she pointed out that twenty years was too long to be alone, he insisted he wasn’t alone. He had her. So she made sure he didn’t, at least half of the time. Knowing how dependent he was on her for companionship, she hoped it would force him to look for it elsewhere.

But even though she’d been making headway, almost getting him to admit his attraction to Isabella, he kept insisting it wouldn’t be fair to a woman to give her less than the whole heart he’d given her mother. But she knew Isabella would settle for
any
corner of his heart, and she was certain that once he left the door to his heart ajar, his smitten PA would take it over completely. He was the most loving man on earth and in time he’d give his all to the woman who loved him.

So here she was, staying out of his way, hoping he’d get it on with Isabella. She wasn’t giving up hope. And neither was Isabella.

But up until last night, she’d always felt she was the older one, dealing with an emotionally ambivalent youngster. Being untouched by passion until then had made her coolly cerebral as she sat in judgment, giving sage advice.

Then Rafael had happened.

Now everything she knew about herself and the world had been rewritten, giving her true empathy for her father’s turmoil. If only she hadn’t had to gain that insight at such a steep price.

Leaning on the door after she closed it, she looked around the foyer. She’d miss this place. But she’d leave right away. Without telling her father. Once back in San Francisco, she’d explain everything, and that there was no point in him staying in Brazil any longer. Rafael wouldn’t give him even the minor business he’d promised her when he’d been having fun at her expense. She’d known mixing sex and business would end badly. She just hadn’t thought it would go that bad, that soon.

Exhaling dejectedly, she took off her belt purse as she entered the living room...and almost keeled over in shock.

Rafael was sitting in the middle of the floral couch, his jacket discarded, his T-shirt stretched tautly over his massive chest. From the way his muscled arms were spread over the back of the couch, and those long, powerful legs were stretched out on the coffee table, he looked as if he’d been there for hours.

“How...?”

That was all she could say before she slumped against the wall, not knowing how she remained standing.

He answered her aborted question. “I ran. I took shortcuts that ensured I’d arrive long before your taxi.”

“You
ran?
” she choked. “You’re not even out of breath.”

“I’m in very, very good shape.”

He could say this again. Her gaze slid hungrily over his body before it faltered, stopped then slammed up back to his as she burst out, “How did you enter my apartment?”

“My background in crime is very, very handy.”

So that had been true. He’d once been a gang member...or worse. Which did explain that lethal edge to him. She wondered how deadly he had been. Or still was. She also wondered why she wasn’t in the least afraid of him. His presence here didn’t frighten or even alarm her. It just annoyed her. And if she was totally truthful...thrilled her.

But then he just had to exist to do that. Even now...

Exasperated with herself more than him, she harrumphed. “That’s all you have to say? You used your criminal creds to con your way past the concierge, then to pick my locks?”

He inclined his head in utmost tranquility. “Yes.”

“Well, marathon man, you can run out the same way you ran in. I have nothing more to say to you.”

He spread himself out even more comfortably. “But I have something to say to you. I realized I missed telling you the one relevant thing—why I walked away.”

She teetered away from the wall’s support but found her legs were still rubbery. “You found a woman that appealed to you more.”

“As I said before, no woman has or will ever appeal to me more than you....”

“Oh,
please.
”

He heaved up from his deceptively relaxed pose and in three endless strides was, like last night, plastering her against the wall. “That’s all I aim to do—all I will do—please you. And pleasure you and cater to your every need.”

“Rafael...”

He clamped his mouth over hers, swallowed her gasp and plunged deep. Delight went off like fireworks through every nerve ending as his hard length impacted her, as his tongue thrust into her recesses, all mental faculties shutting down.

It was he who finally raised his head, cradling hers in the crook of his arm, his eyes endless silvered twilights.

Then he took her hand, lying limply over his chest, and guided it down. Her gaze followed, her whole body lurching as he placed it over the huge hardness tenting his pants.

“You feel this? See it? That was how obviously turned on I was as I took you into the ballroom last night.”

She hadn’t noticed, because she’d been too busy looking for her father. But she did remember how his arousal had remained blatantly apparent through the more relaxed suit pants all the time in his study.

“I didn’t care who saw it. But not even finding myself faced with your father...deflated me. I didn’t want to get introduced to a man I’ll work with in that state—especially when said man happens to be your father. I didn’t know how to handle it so I walked away. It was immature and tactless, but once it was done, I didn’t know how to undo it.” His lips hovered over hers and his breath singed her face. “I waited for you to come to me, so you’d advise me how to fix my faux pas. But you didn’t.”

“So you left with another woman.” She moaned as he bent his knees to thrust against the junction of her thighs.

“I didn’t. When she steered me outside I just kept going until I went back to our place. I thought you’d rejoin me. When you didn’t, I thought you’d gotten angry and left and thought it was just as well. If you’d come back, I would have taken you right there and then. Ever since, I’ve been investigating you.”

She finally ducked out of the prison of his seduction. “I thought my details didn’t matter.”

“They didn’t, until I had to find you. But I learned so much more about you being in your home.”

Embarrassment suddenly struck her at having this immaculate entity in her messy abode. “It’s a rental. But it sure must be a novelty for you, being in a packrat’s place.”

His lips crooked in a smile of such indulgence. “You are a collector, aren’t you? But since this isn’t one of your permanent homes, it means you travel with your mementos.”

“Yeah, I unpack them first thing and have them covering every available surface and hanging on every wall as soon as I get anywhere I intend to stay longer than a month. And tidy is something no one could accuse me of being....”

He covered the distance she’d put between them, pulling her back into his arms. “I love your mess. I’ve had painstaking order my whole life. Anywhere I lived was minimalist. I do everything according to sparse equations. Then I entered your home and it was as if a warm breeze swept over me, dispelling the cold I carry within me. Everything here tells a meticulously detailed story of who you are, who you love, what matters to you. And it’s just exquisite. Like you.”

The barrage of beauty spilling from him had her dissolving in his arms. “God, where did you learn to...
talk
that way?”