by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
Bruno was distracting her with his undeniable capacity to make a woman take off her clothes just by grinning. And, damn it, she couldn’t allow it to happen. She wasn’t just a piece of meat.
She was about to change the subject when a beautiful brunette approached them. “Bruno.”
His grin faded, and Addie couldn’t help but notice the tightening of his neck, his upper body tensing under his suit. The atmosphere around them shifted, and he fumbled with his collar. Addie scrutinized his reaction to this woman. Why on Earth was he so aware of her?
Well, besides the obvious. A golden dress hugged her knockout body. This woman clearly had a gym membership and used it. Her long, straight brown hair fell smoothly down her back. But what first caught Addie’s attention were her huge Bambi eyes.
Bruno’s lips twitched, recovering from whatever had thrown him off. “Serena. It’s been a while.”
She gave him a kiss on both cheeks. “It has. I always ask Camila about you, though.”
“She never mentioned it.”
“I guess I can understand why, given everything that happened.”
Silence stretched more than Addie’s old yoga pants, and a flicker of resentment sparked in his assessing eyes. With a posture that both welcomed and warned, he said, “Water under the bridge.” The shrug that went with it didn’t convince Addie for a second.
A shadow of guilt crossed Serena’s face. Whatever had happened between them, it was still there, lurking in the background.
Damn it, I’m dying to know. “Tell me more about this bridge.”
Bruno shook his head and offered Addie a smile that held the intimacy of a secret. “Not today, my beautiful bride.” He slipped into smooth mode, his voice seductive and commanding.
Serena turned to size her up. “Please forgive my manners. It’s nice to meet you.” A smile tipped at the corner of her mouth. “Nice dress.”
The dress was about the only thing nice about that situation. “Serena. We meet at last,” Addie said, injecting some energy at the end. “It’s always a pleasure to come face to face with Bruno’s longtime friends.”
Serena glanced at Bruno in silence, the length of it crossing the line between socially acceptable and downright awkward. He offered her a slight shake of his head. Addie followed their interaction and wondered if she’d have to learn Morse code to figure this guy out. “Thank you.” Serena gave her a coy smile, the one genuine gesture that stole the air from Addie’s lungs. They had been lovers. And judging from the twitching of Serena’s eyes, there was a whole lot more to it.
“I’ll let you greet the other guests.” Serena inhaled and, with a quick nod, disappeared out of sight.
Bruno stood motionless, his eyes remote. Addie snapped her fingers, once, twice ‘til he blinked and responded. With his brows furrowed and face tight, he seemed like a completely different man from the one flirting with her a little while ago.
It was fine, really. Not like she needed his double entendre and panty-melting stares. But who was Serena, and why was he affected by her?
“Who is she?” she asked.
“I thought you had that covered, my dear. She’s an old friend you know all about,” Bruno said, his voice casual. “Now, we should go find Camila. She’s been dying to get a family picture taken.”
Addie acquiesced, but if he thought for a second she would forget the way he looked at that woman… Wait. She almost stopped in her tracks. Who cared? Their marriage was a practical arrangement with an expiration date. Besides, she was pretty sure that if she wrote a list of all the women he had bedded…she would run out of ink.
The only list she should worry about was the to-do list she’d help orchestrate to get the Kwanis relocated. In ten months, despite whatever Silas Lancaster preferred.
A few hours later, Addie tapped her palms together in a soundless clap while pacing the room. She wore a black nightgown under a matching kimono-style robe. Gwen, the manager from the store, had insisted she buy some lingerie and nightgowns, and she’d fought the woman as much as she could. Then she’d compromised and chosen a few. After all, that’s what people expected a bride would buy.
Her gaze strayed to the big bed covered with soft Egyptian cotton and countless pillows. She smoothed the bedspread with her hands, gliding her fingers over the silky fabric. This was a bed for lovers to roll in during a night of torrid sex. This was a bed for shameless, no-holding-back lovemaking.
It wasn’t a bed for her and Bruno.
She eyed the comfy couch innocently set in the living area of the master suite. Sleeping there would be no problem. A big man like Bruno would never fit there, but she could.
Bruno opened the door and appeared from the en suite bathroom. She studied his wet hair, the way the muscles on his chest shifted as he moved. Luckily, dark blue pajama pants hid the rest. Thinking about “the rest” caused her cheeks to flame. Addie turned around and grabbed a pillow from the bed, perfect for hiding her face. Then she searched for extra sheets inside the dresser.
“You want to sleep on the couch?”
She removed a couple sheets from the bottom drawer. “Yes.”
He scratched his chin. “But the bed is big.”
Not big enough. “Yes, of course, but I’d prefer to sleep alone.” Safer.
A humorless smile formed on his lips. “If you are worried about me touching you…”
No. She was worried about wanting to touch him, especially after that furtive moment in the library when she’d given in to a stubborn urge and fondled him, to get rid of the nonsense flooding her body.
Why were her panties in a bunch? She’d experienced sex before. Good sex. Not awful, but not mind-blowing, either. Even with Michael, lovemaking had been comfortable and sweet.
She arranged the sheets and pillow on the couch. “I just want my own space.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
She clenched both hands around the pillow. “No.” Her voice was higher than she intended. She slowly let go of the pillow and threw it back on the couch. “You won’t fit. Plus, I’ve had worse sleeping arrangements before.”
“Because you wanted to.” Bruno walked to the bed and turned the bedspread down.
“What?”
“You wanted to sleep at the settlement with the Kwanis, to get a break from your first-world problems. That was your choice. A productive camping experience. However, at any moment you could go back to your life and find a proper job and place to live.” His words punched her.
“Is that what you think? I had this sheltered life and simply wanted an international Habitat for Humanity one day?”
“That’s what I know.” He threw a couple pillows on the empty side of the bed.
She stepped closer. “Well, you’re wrong. Just because I didn’t have a very humble beginning like you, that doesn’t mean I didn’t experience my share of struggles.”
The realization she went too far didn’t take long. He stared at her, speechless, surprise crossing his face. She halted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“How did you find out?”
Anxiety clung to her like a second skin. “Your sister might have mentioned it.” She pulled the heavy white curtains to the side and opened the door to the balcony. Far away, the lights from the Sugarloaf and the city of Rio twinkled before her. Sounds from crickets and flying bugs filled the night, and there was a good amount of hair-frizzing humidity in the air. “It doesn’t matter, you know.”
Bruno stalked behind her, erasing the distance between them. “It doesn’t?” he said in a low, husky tone.
Her sex clenched. “We might have our differences, Bruno. I don’t trust you. That doesn’t mean I don’t respect you for working hard to get where you are.”
No answer.
The fabric from his silky pants rubbed against her leg. If she turned around, there would be no coming back. She toyed with the softness of the curtain to give her fidgety fingers something to do.
“I value a
ll kinds of occupations… I can imagine being a gardener gives you experience with—”
“My hands.”
She felt rather than heard his intake of breath. Little thrills of anticipation sparked within her. No. She couldn’t fall for his game. Was he trying to seduce her just to get leverage? He’d tried to change their agreement before. Silas Lancaster was avid to get his hands on that land. “I was going to say growing and cultivating things, beautiful things.” She cleared her throat and sauntered away from him.
She needed to get away from his heated gaze. “Why am I here, Bruno? Why didn’t you marry someone for the right reasons?” Someone like…Serena.
“If I had, we wouldn’t be here enduring this awkward conversation. I guess you deserve to sleep on the couch tonight.” He pointed to it.
“Does your father know Silas came here?”
“My father is sick, Addie.” He walked away from her, turned off the recessed lights, and checked the AC thermostat. “It was a big effort for him to make it to the altar; why would I put his health to the test?”
“Because telling him the truth and opening up would set you free.” She shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, restless. “My mother struggled with a gambling addiction for years ’til we found out,” she blurted. “You don’t have to go through whatever you’re going through alone.”
“I’m very sorry about your mother. That said, I pass on your self-serving therapy session. Your manipulating your way into that conversation with Silas earlier taught me enough.” He flicked off the lamp on his bedside table, leaving her in the dark. “Good night.”
Chapter Seven
“I want you out of here, Bruno.” The voice of his father, stronger and louder, reverberated through him.
“Pai, I’m sorry,” Bruno choked up the words. “I was going to tell you—”
“That you shamed us? You drag our family name, our only treasure, to the mud? Your mother is sick, and she doesn’t need to know about this. Get out.”
Bruno jammed both hands in his battered jeans, and they curled into fists.
“Get out.”
Bruno shook his head and yanked the intrusive thoughts from his mind. Taking a gulp of beer, he watched the twilight sky from the front porch. The carbonated liquid traveled smoothly down his throat. He licked his lips and enjoyed the semi-dry aftertaste. Brazilian beer. He’d missed it. Not that he couldn’t have bought it in the US, but during his exile he’d preferred not to taste anything that reminded him of home.
Not his home anymore, although a familiar sensation hovered around him as if challenging him to stay. He’d paid for the house, the furniture, and everything inside. Until Leonardo started working and decided he wanted to help support their father and younger siblings.
He sat on the black-iron swing in the middle of the porch encircled with colorful plants. To the right, an inviting stepping-stone pathway led to manicured, bright green grass. Tall lamps outlined the garden all the way to the sundeck, where there were tables and chairs and an outdoor barbecue grill.
He stretched his legs, and Torto greeted him with his slobbery mouth. Bruno scratched behind his ears, and the dog wagged his tail.
Leonardo had flown to São Paulo for business, and Camila had taken Addie out shopping and sightseeing. For a good part of the day, he had been stuck in the home office, checking emails, making calls, and polishing an impending project. The outstanding team he had mentored in New York kept him updated. With his growing bank account, he didn’t have to write codes or build platforms any longer; yet, he enjoyed closely monitoring high-profile accounts. The world of software fascinated him. It was a world he understood. Unlike the relationship he had with her…
Addie Duarte. His temporary wife. Avoiding her had been his strategy to overcome that growing sexual pull between them. She had drilled him with questions on their wedding night, and, damn it, she rubbed it in his face that he’d been a gardener. What else would she do, if she discovered more?
He lifted the bottle to his lips and enjoyed another sip. This time, the liquid thickened in his throat.
The clunk of wedge sandals on the tiled floor disrupted his thoughts.
Addie came from the back door and walked with both hands intertwined, her fingers playing with each other. Her lips curled into a mock smile.
“Not even a whole day of marriage, and you’ve already resorted to drinking?” she said, then sobered. “How’s your father?”
This was the first time they were alone all day. He’d woken up before she had, but not without a quick glance at how peacefully she’d slept. She’d made the couch look…cozy. Sleeping away from her had been the right choice. After facing Serena, memories he wanted dead and gone had resurfaced. He’d broken Serena’s heart, and, ever since, he’d stayed away from serious relationships. He wasn’t the man who provoked warm and fluffy emotions. He excelled at sex, yeah, but that was where it ended. A woman like Addie, as stubborn and inquiring as she was, deserved better. Better than him.
“He’s okay.” He shook his head and rose to his feet.
She must have just showered—her damp hair smelled like wild strawberries.
He motioned for her to have a seat on the swing. A few other lounge chairs surrounded them, but his body’s fidgety response to her prevented him from sitting. Fire ants crawling on his skin wouldn’t make him this restless. “He’s sleeping.”
She chose not to sit and instead stepped back just under the recessed lighting. Even in plain capris from their New York shopping trip and a ratty green T-shirt, she looked delicious. She was slim, but, damn, her ass was plump, and the capris hugged in all the right places. “Another effort to remain true to yourself?” he pointed to the shirt.
“Does that make me evil?”
“It makes you naïve if you think a piece of clothing will represent the essence of your soul.”
She chuckled. “Deep thoughts, Mr. Moneypants. Coming from a man who thinks a woman has to wear overpriced cocktail dresses and handbags to be worthy of being your wife.”
Worthy. The word spilled acid in his stomach. “Temporary wife.”
“That’s what I meant.” She shrugged. “What are you going to do when you find someone you really want to be with and marry? Fancy labels can’t replace a real relationship.”
“You’re starting to sound like Camila.”
He turned and resumed staring at the front yard. And then, out of nowhere, she leaped toward him and grasped his arm, her cold palm over his warm skin.
Addie’s face paled like she had seen a ghost.
“What the hell?”
Sharp nails bit into his skin.
He searched for what had alarmed her. Besides the humming of the wind and the chirping from crickets, the night was quiet.
Addie gasped, hinting that her source of danger neared. As his gaze followed hers, there it was—a small brown frog resting on the tile, completely aloof to what went on around it.
“Afraid of frogs?” he asked, amused.
She nodded, staring at the frog with a caution intended for much bigger, scarier animals.
He leaned down and watched the frog closely. The cute amphibian didn’t even jump away from him. It enjoyed the coolness of the tile, a refuge from the hot evening.
“I’m surprised a tough girl like you would be afraid of these little guys.” Especially since you’ve experienced far worse sleeping arrangements.
Her eyes met his and widened. Then she looked down and saw her fingers still clasped around his arm. She withdrew her hand and tucked a couple curly strands behind her ear. “They’re slimy and slippery.”
“They need to be slippery, otherwise they wouldn’t survive.”
Addie frowned.
He straightened. “How did you live at Toca do Tigre? I’m sure there are hundreds of frogs there.”
Her fingers drummed the place just below her neck. Sometimes, she brushed her fingers on her neck absentmindedly. Other times, she pressed her palm har
d against her neckline as if she tried to get something off her chest. He often tried to figure out why she did that.
“Well, I wasn’t always scared of frogs.” She leaned against the stone column. “They’re just unreliable…and sneak up on you when you least expect.”
“Is this one of those female analogies? When you’re actually talking about something else?”
“Why? What did you think I meant?”
Her curiosity made him smile. “I thought you were talking about men.” The words flew out of his mouth light as a feather, quite different from the sudden, growing anxiety forming in his stomach.
She chuckled, but the hearty sound didn’t bring him any comfort. “I actually don’t like them since a big one sneaked up on me in Toca do Tigre.”
“A man?”
The hint of a smile tipped at the corner of her mouth. “No. A frog.” She smoothened her hand over her T-shirt.
He shook his head. He took another long look at her and smiled. Her outfit spoke volumes of the woman who wore it. Addie Reed. Bold enough to kidnap and blackmail him. Naïve enough to believe her romanticized idealism could change the world. “I take it you aren’t scared of those perfect real relationships you’re lecturing about?”
She opened her mouth to speak then closed it. He was about to say something, anything to fill the tension in the air when she blurted, “I haven’t given it that much thought lately.”
He gave her a minute, hoping for a follow up to her reply. Nothing besides a frown on her face. “That’s it? I expected a long answer. You accuse me of closing up, and I’m talking about this…stuff.”
She folded her arms. “It’s easy when you’re the one asking questions.”
“Mad because I’ve figured out your strategy?”
She tilted her chin up. “Do you miss Erika?”
He scratched his chin. “No.”
“But you would have married her,” she said, a pang of accusation in her voice.
“Yes, and I would have made it work.”
He tightened his hold on the beer bottle he still held but no longer drank from. Time for a change of subject. He reached out for her. “Maybe it’s time you faced your fears. Frog fears. You can pet him. I’ll help you.”
