by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
She ignored the strong B.O. oozing from the guy who stood behind her, which intensified every time he shifted his arms to hold on to the rail. Instead, she closed her eyes and saw Bruno’s face and concentrated on what she’d tell him.
Addie heard the engine sputter and waited for it to roar back. No such luck. The bus shuttered to an abrupt halt, which yanked her from dreamland and had her jerking forward then back, like a human boomerang, except there was no room to move. The guy behind her was closer than she could stand. Her heart drummed in her chest, and she peeped out the window. The unforgiving sun bathed plantations of sugar cane and corn, and there was no rest stop in sight.
“The bus is broken. Everyone must get off,” the driver announced after the bus barely made it to the shoulder of the road and came to a complete stop.
Broken? She pursed her lips. Shit. Following the disgruntled passengers out of the bus, she clung to her determination not to get discouraged. Getting to talk to Bruno at the end of the journey was just the right motivation.
“How long until it’s fixed?” she asked the driver. The passengers scattered around, some spoke on their cell phones, and a few complained to one another about the delay.
The bald man scratched his forehead and shrugged. “I don’t know. I called the company to request another bus, but they’re all out and full. I’m waiting to hear back from them.”
“Is there a time frame?”
“Não senhora.”
“Can I get a cab to take me to the airport?”
The driver offered her a condescending smile. “The cab companies don’t come that quick. You have to call them ahead of time and schedule.”
Panic spread through her veins. What if this was a sign? What if the universe was preventing her from getting her heart more broken than that old bus? But maybe this was just one more obstacle she needed to overcome—to prove that she and Bruno should be together.
Oh, what wouldn’t she do to see him right now. She had to get back to Rio…to Bruno. The unforgiving sun heated her skin, and she marched to a group of teens selling knickknacks and food to the stranded passengers. She purchased a bottle of water.
She gulped down the water, the cold liquid soothing her dry throat. One of the kids showed up riding a donkey, a common form of transportation in the area. Addie shielded the sun from her eyes to face the kid. The skinny, long-haired boy wasn’t a day older than fifteen.
“Excuse me, is it true cabs don’t come out here?”
“Yeah. Where do you want to go?”
Her attention turned to the highway. Big trucks and cars flew past her view, most drivers not obeying the maximum speed limit. “The airport.”
“I can give you a ride to the town. It’s thirty minutes away and easier to hire someone to drive you once you get there.” The boy smiled. “But it’ll cost ya.”
Twenty minutes later, Addie rubbed the back of her overheated neck. That awkward ride was costing her much more than fifty reais. She held on to the sides of the donkey. Pedro, the boy, moonlighted as a tour guide and chattered on. His voice kept her from second guessing her idea.
Who would have thought she’d be riding a donkey on the frontage road, with Pedro leading the way. What was she thinking? Sweat dripped from her face. She closed her eyes and focused on Bruno. Again.
She glanced over her shoulder. A small red Fiat with an impatient driver slowed so he was following closely behind them.
She lifted her hands above her forehead, squinting to see the driver, while inside she was grateful for the annoying distraction taking her mind off… Bruno? Bruno!
He was driving the Fiat. Heat flushed her entire body, and, although her jaw dropped for a moment, she couldn’t emit a single sound. It took her a couple seconds and several blinks to understand what was happening.
“Stop the donkey.”
“Addie!” He rolled down the window. Oh no. Had he been calling her the whole time? He slowed to a stop and waved. When his gaze finally met hers, warm waves of hope flooded inside her, just like the familiar growing awareness. “Come to me, Addie.” His open, bright smile melted all her fears away.
She squealed. “I need to get off.”
Pedro pulled the reins and turned to her. The donkey snorted. “Something wrong?”
“Not anymore.” She slipped off the donkey and jammed her hand in her bag. Retrieving more cash than they’d agreed on, she gave it to him. “Thank you. I don’t need a cab anymore.”
The moment her tennis shoes stepped on the curb, butterflies did summersaults in her belly, and it was hard to convince her trembling legs to move. But Bruno was already out of the car and running to her.
Oh, Bruno. Addie caught her breath. She played a million ways to tell him she loved him.
This man was gorgeous, casually dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt.
And seeing him—handsome, willing, forgiving, coming for her—she had no option but to drop her bag and go to him, right into his strong arms. They kissed. She was unsure who initiated it, but he pulled her to him, and she slid her hands in his sleeves, stroking his arms and shoulders.
She withdrew her lips from his and touched his face, her fingers prickling over his unshaven chin. Ah, how she’d missed that chin. “I love you,” she said, unwilling to waste one more second. “Bruno Duarte, you have my heart.”
Sparks of gold shimmered in his brown eyes. “You mean it?” His grip on her tightened.
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Forever.” The lightness she felt inside reached her voice.
“A real relationship.” He kissed her nose, and they both laughed at the same time at his choice of words. Perfection now was being together, despite whatever either of them had to do to get there. Perfection was being imperfect with him.
“I’m sorry I left.” She sobered.
“When I pushed you away, I had hoped if you weren’t there, I wouldn’t suffer. I could numb my emotions. See, when I left Brazil, my feelings for Serena vanished. Perhaps because of what was meant to be. But they were gone. And I expected it would be the same with you.”
“But it wasn’t?”
He gave her a bone-melting smile. “No. Getting you out of my mind has proven an impossible task.”
“Same here. I thought, because of your issues with trusting people, you were scared to get attached and love. But it turns out, I was the one who was scared. When it was just sex, I could handle it, but when you told me you loved me, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like this before.”
His eyes looked straight into hers. “Because of your love, I’m ready to open myself to you. I want to feel, to be, to reach. You’ve made me want that.”
“And that’s why you came?” She linked her hands around his arms.
“Yes, that, too.” He winked. “With Leonardo’s help, I got the land back in my name, and I’m transferring half of it to the Kwanis. The other half…maybe you can help me figure out.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “There is no stopping now. I flew to Toca do Tigre and took a helicopter this time, but Myro told me you had left. Then I paid someone an indecent amount of money to rent that car.” He pointed at the Fiat. “I couldn’t stand to let you just go again. I found the bus on the side of the road, and the rest is history.”
“I was going to Rio, to find you and beg for forgiveness,” she said humbly, happy to throw her weapons on the ground and give him her all. Her heart sang, and an invisible warmth wrapped around her. She giggled. Happiness.
“Beg, huh?” His eyes darkened, and desire flooded her. “Maybe we can talk about it inside the Fiat.”
She glanced at the car, then turned back to him.
“Do it again.” He ducked his head to watch her more closely. “Smile like that, like you aren’t holding anything back.” His voice roughened. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
She nearly cracked a joke about holding back in the Fiat, but the tender way his eyes rested on hers, the way he cu
pped her chin, his breath so close…
“I love you, Addie Duarte,” he said, his voice low. “We’ll be together forever. In Brazil, in New York…wherever you wish, my green temptation.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said truthfully. “Although…how are we going to tell everyone about the story behind turning our temporary marriage into a permanent one?”
“I vote for another wedding party. Let’s invite our family and friends and do it at Toca do Tigre. We’ll bring your parents. You can do it your way.”
“By the river?” Joy floated up her throat.
He exhaled a sign of contentment. “I’ll make a toast and explain everything.” He pulled her to him. “Well, maybe not everything,” he whispered with a husky voice.
Their tongues stroked, sometimes in the same direction, sometimes in opposite directions, but always finding common ground. Much like the two of them.
Acknowledgments
Bringing this book to life was a longtime dream of mine. Being Brazilian and also aware of the struggles the Brazilian Indians have endured, I always wanted to use my words to give them a happy ending, even if only in fiction.
Thank you to everyone in the Entangled family for giving your all, always. Y’all rock! I will always be grateful to Alethea Spiridon Hopson and Liz Pelletier for taking a chance on me. Creatively, it’s a real treat for any writer to have standing behind her a publisher who thrives for out-of-the-box, innovative storytelling. The cover artists, marketing department, and publicists always work so hard to make our books look perfect. Thanks.
Karen Grove is such a wonderful, talented, and resourceful editor. I couldn’t have done this without her positivity, guidance, and patience throughout the editing stage. Kaleen Harding, I’m in awe of you. Your superb suggestions and professionalism helped me greatly.
A gigantic thank-you to cacique Antonio, the leader of a Potiguar tribe in Brazil. He graciously welcomed me to his tribe for a fun round of interviews and research. Although his tribe is far more developed than the one I created, a lot of their struggles are similar.
Big thanks to Aurelia B. Rowl and Hayson Manning for being there for me. Michele de Winton helped me turn this book around at a pivotal moment, and I’ll always be grateful. Michele, I love “whipping things up” with you.
Melinda Fulton, thank you for being my virtual extra set of eyes; you’re so efficient and amazing. Hats off to you.
I really appreciate being a part of the Digital Darlings. Whether in person or online, this fantastic group always surprises me with an outpouring of support. Irene, Vivien, Evelyn, Jodi, Jax, Alexa, Rebecca, Cara—I’m talking about you!
To my friends Marci, Kristina, Yvette, Dina, EJ, Nicki, Tatiana. Let’s pimp this book so we can all go on that Paris trip together. *grin*
Thanks to the super talented author Robin Covington for taking the time to read my baby in advance and give me a cover quote.
Thanks to my street team, Carmen’s Crew, for helping spread the word.
Last, but certainly not least, muito obrigada to my readers! At the end of the day, it’s all about bringing you an unforgettable love story.
About the Author
Carmen Falcone learned at an early age that fantasizing about fictional characters beats doing math homework any day. Brazilian by birth and traveler by nature, she moved to Central Texas after college and met her broody Swiss husband—living proof that opposites attract. She found in writing her deepest passion and the best excuse to avoid the healthy lifestyle everyone keeps talking about. When she’s not lost in the world of romance, she enjoys spending time with her two kids, being walked by her three crazy pugs, reading, catching up with friends, and chatting with random people in the checkout line.
She loves to procrastinate, so please indulge her and drop her a line @ [email protected]. For more info, visit her website: www.carmenfalcone.com
Also by Carmen Falcone…
A Vengeful Affair
A Night of Misbehaving
A Weekend of Misbehaving
Brazilian Revenge
An Unsuitable Husband
Ros Clarke
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Ros Clarke. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 109
Fort Collins, CO 80525
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Indulgence is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Alethea Spiridon Hopson & Rima Jean
ISBN 978-1-62266-325-5
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition April 2014
Chapter One
The heavy thud of the beat blocked out all other rhythms. Every thought, every breath, every heartbeat drummed in time with the music. Theresa Chartley set her drink down and threaded her way through the crowds to the middle of the dance floor. Bodies on all sides formed a tiny cocoon, sheltering her as she gave herself over to the beat. The strong, deep pulse soothed her like nothing else could, giving her mind time to rest and the stresses in her subconscious a chance to seep away while she moved instinctively. In the music, she could be fully in the moment and it was bliss.
Half an hour later, she made her way back to the table and grabbed her bottle of water. She scanned the dark room to check on the friend she had come with. Julie’s distinctive white-blonde hair was easy to spot through the mass of people on the floor. Theresa watched her friend wrap herself around a guy so that their two bodies moved together perfectly. Briefly, Julie raised her head and caught Theresa’s eye. She winked. No rescue required there.
Theresa hadn’t come to the club to meet a guy. She’d come to forget about meeting guys. She’d called Julie on the way home from her parents’ house and arranged an evening designed to block out her mother’s latest insane plans. Melanie Chartley’s mission in life was to see her daughter married. She wanted the village church in June, decked with pink roses and white lilacs. She wanted Theresa in an ivory silk gown and all the men in top hats and tails. Mostly, Theresa suspected, she wanted a reason to boast to all her friends. For years, Melanie had dropped hints, subtle and not so subtle, but since Theresa’s thirtieth birthday, she’d stepped up the pressure and now she’d decided to take action. Next weekend, Theresa was expected to visit her mother so she could meet Hetta Black’s son.
“He’s a few years older than you, darling,” Melanie had told her over the phone, “but still very handsome. And you mustn’t mind about the children. They’re away at boarding school most of the time.”
“Children?” she’d repeated in horror.
“Oh, didn’t I say? He’s a widower, poor thing. But he’s been very brave about it, and now the children are old enough, he’s looking for someone new.”
“He won’t be looking for someone like me.”
“Don’t be silly, dear. You can be quite pretty when you make the effort.”
Theresa had closed her eyes and counted to three. “I meant that he won’t want a wife with a career like mine. I frequently work fourteen hour days, and I don’t have time for shopping, cooking, or chasing around after teenage children.” She didn’t have the energy to invest in that sort of relationship, either, but that was beyond her mother’s ability to comprehend. Short, self-contained flings with minimal emotional involvement suited Theresa best. Messy, complicated long-term commitments scared the hell out of her, especially the kind that came with a ring and a legally-binding promise.
“Well, naturally you wouldn’t continue with your job when you’re married.”
She’d
hung up. There was no chance of convincing her mother and no point having the familiar argument all over again. She’d call later in the week and make sure lunch was cancelled. And pray that Timothy Black found someone more suitable very soon.
But here in the club tonight, there was no reason to think about her mother and her suitable widowers. No need to think about anything. Just feel the music. Just feel the moment. She swayed her hips, letting the rhythm of the beat sink into her until she could feel it pulsing through her veins. She threw her head back, closed her eyes, and let herself dance as though no one was watching.
It took her a while to notice the guy. He was behind her, but he was matching his moves to hers. She could feel his breath in warm, soft ripples against her neck. His hips just brushed against the curve of her bottom. His shoulder occasionally bumped into hers, but when his hand slid around her waist, there was no mistaking it. No mistaking the delicious shudder of sexual attraction that shot straight through her, either. Her body knew he’d make love with the same perfect timing.
They danced for hours, her back against his chest, mirroring and matching and making love with their fully clothed bodies. Eventually, the dance floor was almost empty, but Theresa didn’t want to be the one to break their connection and she sensed he felt the same. The club was a protected bubble away from reality. As soon as they stopped moving, the magic would dissolve.
He didn’t break the rhythm when his lips brushed against her ear. “My place?”
Julie had left with her guy hours earlier. Theresa leaned back against his chest. She wasn’t in the habit of hooking up with random men in clubs. On the other hand, whoever this guy was, he wouldn’t be dragging her off to see the vicar and expecting her to say “I do” any moment now. “Why not?”
He spun her round and pulled her in so they were face-to-face for the first time. She slid her arms around his neck and pressed herself deliberately along the length of his body. His eyes gleamed for an instant and then darkened as he bent and claimed her lips.
