Her Perfect Affair

by Priscilla Oliveras

  Rey’s passing had devastated all three of his girls, but the quiet pain that radiated from Rosa’s dark eyes had struck a chord inside him. Even without Yaz asking him to, he’d gone out of his way to make sure Rosa was okay.

  They’d shared quiet walks across the snow-covered campus talking about their favorites—movies, music, food, vacation places, books, whatever. God, the debates they’d had over his preference for Hemingway’s minimalism and hers for the romantic words of Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters.

  He’d met her for lunch or dinner several times a week, at first because he wanted to make sure she was taking care of herself. Later, because he found himself both relaxed and energized when he was with her. Normally quiet and shy around others, Rosa opened up in private. She was smart, opinionated, and witty, and when she felt strongly about a topic, like funding for the arts and education, her passion was a palpable force seen in her flushed cheeks and fiery eyes.

  Before Jeremy knew it, he was making early-evening coffee runs across town to her favorite café con leche joint when he knew she’d be up late working on her thesis. He told himself it was all in the name of helping her ace her final requirements.

  But deep inside, he knew better.

  Sometimes, alone at night, he’d close his eyes and picture her face when they shared a joke or she teased him about some goofball thing he said or did. Her smile widened. Her eyes sparkled. Her normally reserved demeanor melted away. Hell, lying there in the dark, he even heard her melodic voice or throaty laughter in his head.

  By the time her graduation rolled around, Jeremy was forced to admit that what had started out as his intent to help a good friend through a heart-wrenching loss had morphed into something more. Something he wasn’t quite sure he should pursue.

  His moving back to Chicago would come with certain family obligations and expectations. The same ones that had driven him to take a job in New York right out of college. Rosa was a quiet person. She’d probably hate the hoopla that surrounded his family on a regular basis. And with him now heading to Japan for the next six months, he had no business thinking about where things with Rosa could lead.

  Then he’d held her in his arms on the dance floor tonight. Smelled the sweet vanilla scent of the lotion he knew she kept in her purse. Stared into her eyes. Come thiiiiis close to kissing her.

  So, yeah, saying yes to her invitation had definitely been a no-brainer for him.

  He cast a quick glance at her now, perched on the edge of the hotel room’s king-size bed.

  She looked more like a sexy siren than a shy librarian in her red bridesmaid dress with her dark hair pulled up in a fancy twist. A few delicate tendrils curled around her neck, enticing a man to lean closer, sample a taste of her tanned skin.

  His body hummed with anticipation.

  Jeremy gulped.

  His wayward thoughts made his hands a little unsteady as he poured champagne into a flute, then handed it to Rosa. “Here you go. Buen pro-provecho.”

  Her sweet smile brightened at his bumbling attempt at Spanish.

  “Gracias. Wanna sit?” She patted the space beside her, scooting over to make room.

  “That’s okay,” he mumbled.

  Glass in hand, he pulled out the leather desk chair, forgoing the bed, and temptation.

  She took a sip, then slid back until her legs were straight out in front of her. Kicking off her silver stilettos, she wiggled her toes with a groan. “Ay, it feels divine to get these torture devices off!”

  “They make your legs look great, but I don’t know how women wear them.” Jeremy’s gaze strayed from her pink-painted toenails, up her shapely calves to where the edge of her red, figure-skimming dress had crept up to mid-thigh.

  “You answered your own question.”

  “Hmm?” He pulled his gaze away from the appealing view of her legs. “What do you mean?”

  “Women wear heels so men will admire our . . . I guess you might say, attributes.” Her champagne glass pressed to her lips, Rosa stared at him intently. Damn if she wasn’t giving him signals his body had no trouble interpreting.

  But he had to be mistaken. This was Rosa. Modest, usually reserved Rosa.

  Sure, she was beautiful. What guy wouldn’t be attracted by her curvy figure, soft doe eyes and kissable lips?

  For him, though, it was her charm that appealed to him even more.

  When he was with her, it was like she saw the real him. Not the dollar signs or connections his family name triggered in the minds of so many others. She was the first woman in a long time who didn’t look at him and consider what his family name could do for her.

  “So you girls lure us in with your wiles. And your . . . attributes, as you call them. Then you have your way with us?” he teased.

  “If the shoe fits.” She lifted a dainty bare shoulder in a half shrug, the shiny material of her dress tightening across her breasts.

  Jeremy nearly swallowed his tongue.

  Rosa laughed, the sound light and rich. Sexy.

  Damn, he liked it when she let her guard down and allowed the playful side of her personality to take the reins. It didn’t happen often, or with many people, so he always felt a little special when she did with him.

  Her eyes sparkled with a teasing glint.

  Yeah, he liked it. A lot.

  Leaning back in his chair, he took a deep breath, working to calm his racing pulse. He jerked his tie loose, leaving it to hang open around his neck as he waited for her next move.

  Rosa reached her free hand up to push against the elaborate twist she and the other bridesmaids had worn. “This up-do is so tight. I swear it’s giving me a headache.”

  “Take it down. The evening’s almost over.”

  He liked it better when her hair was loose anyway, the dark curly waves brushing her shoulders.

  Rosa bit her lip. A habit of hers that clued him in to the fact that she was contemplating his suggestion.

  Rarely did she act without thinking things through. Even something as simple as a meal choice might invite the nibbling on her lower lip while she deliberated over her options. In his weaker moments, he wondered what it might be like to nibble on that lip himself.

  He wouldn’t give in to that urge though. Not without a clear sign it was what she wanted, too. Before tonight, she hadn’t given him one, and even now he cautioned himself to be sure. He’d never force a woman into anything she wasn’t ready for. He wasn’t like—

  “Do you mind if I change out of my dress? Put on some comfy clothes?”

  Jeremy did a mental double take at Rosa’s unexpected question. Would a starving man turn down a cheeseburger?

  “Uh, no. Go for it,” he said instead, striving for casual when he felt anything but.

  She nodded, then slid off the bed and stepped to the dresser, where she pulled out a pair of shiny black sleeping pants and a matching long-sleeved button-down shirt. When the bathroom door closed behind her, Jeremy drained his champagne glass and quickly poured himself another.

  Man, he must be misreading her signals. It had to be wishful thinking on his part.

  One side of his brain warned he should leave. Now. Before he did anything foolish. Like throw her down on the bed and satisfy this need for her that had been slowly simmering to a boil for months now.

  The other side of his brain told him to stay calm, take a breath. No need to get ahead of himself. He and Rosa had shared countless conversations over drinks before.

  Though not in a hotel room. With champagne. And one of them slipping into “something more comfortable.”

  He tugged at his collar, deftly undoing the top button of his dress shirt.

  Then he changed his mind, deciding it might be better to keep himself buttoned up tight.

  The bathroom door opened and Rosa stuck her head out.

  “Um, Jeremy, could you help me with something?” The timid note in her voice drew him over faster than any come-and-get-me call would have.

  “Sure, what do
you need?”

  Rosa pushed the door open further and he saw she still wore her dress.

  “I—I think the zipper’s stuck,” she said, turning her back to him.

  The smooth expanse of her tanned shoulders beckoned him.

  She craned her neck to look at him. The nervous frown between her brows told him this wasn’t some coy move on her part.

  She reached behind her with one arm to swat at the zipper pull. “Would you . . . would you give it a try, please?”

  Ha, the irony. He wanted nothing more than to help her out of that dress.

  Instead, he reminded himself to slow his roll. If he ever wanted a chance with Rosa, he’d have to keep taking his cues from her. Let her take the lead so she didn’t feel rushed into anything.

  “Oh-kay,” he answered. “Let me see what we have here.”

  Rosa moved farther into the bathroom, allowing him to step in behind her.

  His fingers fumbled with the metal zipper tab, then finally grasped it and gave a tug. The darn thing wouldn’t budge. He leaned his head closer, Rosa’s subtle vanilla scent filling his lungs.

  “Hold on, the material’s jammed.” He dipped a hand inside the back of her dress to get a better grip, and Rosa jumped like he’d jolted her with a taser.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “My hand’s probably cold.”

  Though not for much longer, what with the heat from her back burning his skin.

  “You just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

  The quaver in her voice made him pause.

  He looked up to catch Rosa’s gaze in the bathroom mirror. She was only about five-foot-six, so at six-four he towered over her, making her look tiny as she stood in front of him, her head barely reaching his shoulder. The intricate twist hung a little loose on her nape, like she’d already removed some of the pins from her hair. It gave her a mussed, bed-tousled appeal his body readily responded to.

  “Do you still want me to try and get it undone, or . . .” he trailed off.

  Or what? Lilí was out for the night. No way Rosa wanted to sleep in her gown.

  “Yes, please. I’d appreciate it.”

  His gaze remained locked with hers for several heartbeats. Then, fingers trembling, he tugged hard on the material. It released from the zipper’s teeth allowing him to slowly pull the zipper down.

  The dress hung open, exposing the expanse of her back, revealing the fact that she’d gone bra-less. Pressing both hands to her chest, Rosa held the material against her.

  Without stopping to consider whether he should or not, Jeremy skimmed the back of his hand up her spine. Across her shoulder blades to the smooth column of her elegant neck. Her head lolled to the side, as if inviting him to taste her.

  He couldn’t resist. Just one little nibble to satisfy his craving for her.

  Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the warmth of her neck, breathing in her sweet smell.

  Rosa moaned with pleasure.

  The low, guttural sound shot desire straight to a part of his body he couldn’t control. He trailed his lips up her neck to the edge of her ear, where he gently blew on her skin. Her body trembled. Need pulsed through him.

  His tongue snuck a quick taste of her, and all he could think of was one thing—honey. She tasted as sweet as honey. Like a bee to a hive, he thrummed to be inside her.

  She leaned back against him with a sigh, her butt pressing against his arousal. The reflection of their bodies melded together caught his eye. One more minute and he’d be a goner. Beyond control.

  “Rosa, we have to stop,” he whispered raggedly in her ear, struggling to remain the gentleman she deserved.

  “Mmmm,” she answered, her heavy-lidded eyes gazing back at him in the mirror. “Why?”

  “Because . . .” He couldn’t think straight with her pressed so intimately against him. “Because you’re . . .”

  Suddenly she spun around, her face a mix of frustration and despair. “Because I’m the good girl? Because everyone expects me to always make the right decision?”

  He reared back, surprised at her uncharacteristic vehemence.

  “What if I want to have a little fun for once?” she cried.

  Her dress slipped, giving him a peek at the curve of her breasts. A blush of emotion—embarrassment, anger, desire?—flooded her cheeks.

  “Don’t you?” she demanded.

  His mouth opened and closed, but for the life of him he couldn’t form a coherent response.

  As fast as it had boiled over, her anger dissipated. She sagged back against the counter behind her, her expression confused.

  “Was I wrong?” she whispered. “Downstairs I thought . . . Bueno, it seemed like . . .” Her brows furrowed, creating a tiny V between them as if she was trying to figure something out. Then she shook her head and looked him straight in the eye as she asked, “Are you not interested in me?”

  Not interested? The question barely computed in his lust-fogged mind.

  He was so damn hard with wanting her he thought he might explode.

  “Is it—” She paused, the dismay and hurt in her voice ensnaring him. “Is it because I’m not—”

  He swooped down and kissed her to stop her from saying anything foolish about herself.

  He expected Rosa to resist. To tell him he was moving too fast.

  She proved him wrong, sliding her arms along his waist to curve around his back.

  His hands were in her hair, and he was vaguely aware of the tinny sound of pins falling to the ceramic counter as he deepened the kiss.

  She opened her mouth to him, her tongue meeting his in a sensual caress. He groaned with pleasure. His quiet little mouse had morphed into a tigress, her fingers kneading the muscles along his back, pulling him closer.

  He wanted more, needed more of her.

  But, damn it, he shouldn’t, not like this. Not this fast. He knew she wasn’t one to sleep around and he didn’t want to do something she’d regret.

  The last vestige of common sense had him breaking their kiss, pulling back to rest his forehead against hers. They both gasped for air, the warmth of their breath mingling in the tiny space separating them.

  “We need to . . . we should . . .” He strained to form the right words. His mind, his senses consumed with the sight of her—swollen lips, hair mussed, chest heaving.

  “Move to the bed?” she whispered, her voice pitching higher on the last word.

  He closed his eyes, trying but losing the battle with temptation.

  Rosa backed away.

  He watched, entranced, as she let her dress drop to the floor at her feet.

  She stood before him wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of black lace panties, her round breasts the perfect size to fill his palms. Her hands fluttered at her sides, revealing her nervousness.

  “I know what I want, Jeremy. If it’s, if it’s what you want, too, then . . .”

  Her sincerity, her bravery in what he felt certain was not a proposition she offered lightly, nudged Jeremy over the edge.

  Bending down, he scooped her up in his arms, laughing with elation at her yelp of surprise. A man on a mission, set to erase any doubts about whether or not he wanted her, Jeremy strode out of the bathroom and headed straight toward the king-sized bed.

  Chapter Three

  Eight weeks later

  One. Little. Pink. Line.

  Relief tsunamied through Rosa, swiping her legs out from under her. She sank onto the tile floor in her upstairs hall bathroom. Forehead resting on her bent knees, she sent up a prayer of thanks.

  “Gracias a Dios,” she murmured.

  The threat was gone.

  Everything could go back to normal.

  Her shoulders slackened on a soul-cleansing sigh. Turning her head, she peeked her eyes open, needing the confirmation of that one little—wait, two?

  She frowned, then blinked rapidly to clear her vision.

  Nothing changed. Two intersecting lines still formed a perfect plus sign.

>   Her stomach plummeted, threatening to bring up the Export Soda crackers she’d barely choked down earlier. The pregnancy test wand trembled in her hand as if laughing at her disbelief, its pink symbol ensnaring her gaze like a magic talisman.

  “No puede ser verdad,” she murmured. Panic tightened her chest, stealing her breath. Dios no, no, no no. It couldn’t be true.

  She gave the stick a quick, frantic shake.

  A lo mejor, yeah, maybe, like a thermometer, she was supposed to force the fluid down to the bottom for it to work properly.

  Only . . . her hand stilled . . . the mercury was in the thermometer, and you shook it before you stuck it in your mouth to get the reading. More importantly, you definitely didn’t pee on it.

  Besides, she’d read the freaking packet insert from front to back. Three times. Could probably recite the information from memory. The most important point had been emblazoned on her brain. One line signifies negative. Two intersecting lines signify positive.

  She hadn’t failed a test in her entire life! How could she possibly start now?

  Tears stung her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but the idea that she and Jeremy—

  Dios mío, Jeremy!

  Just thinking about him sent anxiety rippling through her.

  ¡Esto no puede estar pasando! The denial ricocheted in her head. Unfortunately, repeating it over and over didn’t matter because this was happening!

  The proof was right in front of her in the form of an obnoxious pink plus sign.

  With a muffled curse, Rosa dropped her chin to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees.

  It’d been nearly eight weeks since Yaz and Tomás’s wedding.

  Eight weeks since she’d rushed Jeremy out of her hotel room that awkward morning after, his halting apology and stricken expression letting her know he regretted their intimacy. She’d cut him off before he could finish, ashamed that she’d practically thrown herself at him the night before. Her main thoughts had been on saving face, keeping her pride intact. Getting him out of there in case Lilí decided to show up after all.