Those kisses had—they’d aroused her. But they’d aroused him, too. She’d felt his—felt his erection press against her belly.
Catarina swallowed dryly.
Sex was potent stuff.
And that was why her scheme would work. She was sure of it. All she had to do now was find a subtle way to present it to Jake, and an even more subtle way to sell it to him.
She watched as he dumped a huge mound of the chicken casserole on her plate. What was that old saying? The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach?
“That looks wonderful,” she said brightly.
Jake grunted and eased onto a stool.
“How about some biscuits?”
He looked at her. “Biscuits?”
“Or muffins. Did Anne leave some?”
“Anna. And, no, she didn’t.”
“Too bad. If you want to wait half an hour or so, I can whip up a batch.”
His gaze flattened as he looked her over from head to toe. “Are you as good a cook as you are a seamstress?”
Catarina’s chin came up. “I’m an excellent cook.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll pass. But bread’s not a bad idea. There should be some in that drawer.”
She found the bread, found a small silver basket, lined it with a napkin and arranged a display of neatly overlapping slices.
“There,” she said briskly. “How’s that?”
“Wonderful. Now can I eat?”
“Do you want butter?”
“What I want,” Jake said, “is a little peace and quiet.”
“Of course.” She spoke pleasantly, even though she wanted to dump the casserole over his head. She climbed onto the stool next to his, forked up some of the chicken and put it in her mouth. “Mmm. Delicious. I wonder, do you have any wine? A Château D’Este Zinfandel would—”
“Catarina.”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
So much for getting to his heart through his stomach—but then she didn’t have to get to his heart, she had only to get to his brain. And, for all Jake’s surliness, she had to admit he did seem to have a brain.
“Jake?”
“Yes?”
“Jake.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking.”
“In your case, always a dangerous activity.”
She decided to ignore the taunt. “You’re not exactly thrilled to have me as a responsibility.” He didn’t answer. Well, she hadn’t expected him to correct her. Still, it wouldn’t have killed him to be polite. “And I,” she added, “am not exactly thrilled to find myself your ward.”
“Amazing. We have something in common after all.”
“So, as I said, I’ve been thinking.”
Jake looked at her. “There’s no way out of this,” he said quietly. “None at all. You need a husband. I need to find you one. And we have precious little time in which to do it.”
She nodded. “I know. But remember what you said before? About our cultures being different?”
“Did I say that?”
“Yes. We were talking about Brazilian men and American men. I said Brazilian men cheated on their wives, and you said—”
“I said a lot of things. Then I kissed you.”
Silence filled the room. Their eyes met. “Yes,” Cat said, after a while, “you did.”
“That’s not going to happen anymore.”
She stared at him. “Why not?”
“Because…” Jake looked deep into those questioning eyes and understood the reason for his anger. “Because,” he said gently, “it’s wrong. I’m your guardian. My job is to look out for your welfare.”
“Surely it doesn’t hurt my welfare if you kiss me?”
Was she that naïve? Or was she playing a game? His gaze dropped to her mouth, so pink and soft and sweet. Naïve or not, he had to be more careful in his dealings with her.
“Your future husband wouldn’t like it.”
Her mouth trembled. “I don’t even know who he is.”
“Well, we’re going to solve that problem ASAP.”
“ASAP? What does that mean?”
“It means I’m going to make some phone calls tomorrow and get the ball rolling.” Jake reached for her hand. “Cat. I’m going to find you a husband, and I’ll do my best to make sure he’s a good choice.”
She nodded and bent her head. Her hair tumbled forward, hiding her face, and he fought back the almost overwhelming desire to touch his hand to the soft, gold-burnished curls.
“I know it isn’t what you want, but—”
“But it has to be done.”
“Yes. As soon as you accept that—”
“I have accepted it,” she said, and looked up at him. “Fully.”
Jake blinked. “What?”
“I said, I’ve accepted what must happen. There’s no getting away from the terms of the will.”
“Well,” he said. “Well, I’m glad to hear…I mean, I’m glad you’ve finally…”
What in hell was wrong with him? How come he couldn’t finish a simple sentence? Of course he was glad to hear she’d finally come to her senses. He had to marry her off. She’d accepted it. There wasn’t a reason in the world her admission should bother him.
“I’m delighted you’ve come around,” he said briskly.
“There are just a couple of conditions.”
Conditions? Jake considered pointing out that she wasn’t in any position to set conditions, but what harm could there be in letting her talk? What counted was that she’d agreed to stop fighting him. How impossible could her conditions be?
“What conditions?”
Cat drew her hand from his and cleared her throat. She looked like a woman preparing for a speech.
“First, a question. What does the will say about me staying married? I mean, for instance, suppose I married someone and he died? Wouldn’t I have fulfilled the terms of the will? Wouldn’t I be entitled to claim my inheritance?”
He looked at her in disbelief. “For God’s sake, Catarina, you can’t be serious! Do you really think I’d let you plan a murder?”
“Plan a…?” Cat laughed. “I’m not talking about killing anyone! I just wanted your opinion on what would happen if my marriage didn’t last. I didn’t want to use the D word until I knew what that opinion would be.”
Jake felt as if he were on the edge of a rabbit hole, with the Mad Hatter and the Queen waiting at the bottom.
“The D word?” he said cautiously.
“Divorce.”
She leaned close, close enough so her hair tickled his nose. Her curls were soft and smelled of vanilla. He could smell roses, too, maybe from her skin. It would be easy enough to find out. All he had to do was put his mouth against her throat and taste her.
“Don’t look so shocked, Jake. Surely the concept is known here?”
“Concept? What…? Oh.” He cleared his throat and moved back. “Yeah, sure. Divorce is the national pastime.”
“Ah,” she said, as happily as if he’d told her she’d won the lottery, and gave an excited bounce that made her breasts jiggle. Didn’t she have a bra on under that poor excuse for a sweatshirt? “That’s even better.”
“It is?”
“Yes. Absolutely. See, divorce is frowned on in Brazil. Oh, it’s legal, but it’s mostly husbands who initiate the action, not wives. Even then, if you’re in a certain social class, it’s just not done.”
Jake folded his arms. “Okay,” he said, “let’s have it. What kind of plot are you hatching?”
“It’s simple, really.”
Nothing about Catarina was simple. She’d made that abundantly clear.
“You find me a husband. A proper, eminently suitable Brazilian husband. You said you could do that, right?”
“Right,” he said, as if it would be a snap. Well, finding a man to marry her would be, considering everything. Her money. Her looks. Her innocence.
Hell, her innocence. That was the thing that was going to
make it tough. He couldn’t just marry her off to anyone. She’d need a special man, one who’d take time initiating her into—into—
“…hear me?”
Jake frowned. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“I said I’ll marry the man of your choice. But before I do he’ll have to agree to two conditions.” She held up her hands. “One,” she said, tapping her left thumb with her right index finger, “he’ll have to sign a legal document giving up all rights to my inheritance.”
“You’re coming into a lot of money, Catarina. I don’t think—”
“If you find me an eminently suitable husband, he won’t need my money.”
“‘Eminently suitable’ meaning rich.”
“Disgustingly rich,” she said brightly. “Weren’t you going to do that anyway?”
“Well, I hadn’t thought—”
“A man who’s wealthy won’t only want me for my money. Surely you’d figured that—or were you going to hand me over to just anybody?”
She was right. Jake sighed and nodded his head. “Okay. We need a man with lots of money. What else?”
“He has to agree that we remain here, in the United States.”
“Cat. I don’t know if a Brazilian would—”
“Third—”
“You said you had a couple of conditions. That means two.”
“Third,” she said blithely, “he has to sign documents agreeing ahead of time to a divorce. I’ll marry him, I’ll inherit my fortune, and then I’ll file for divorce.” Cat smiled. “Simple, isn’t it?”
“Simple. Or simplistic. Why would a man agree to such a scheme? What’s he going to get out of it? If you’re thinking of dangling a cash reward in front of him, well, if this man has enough money not to want any of yours, why would he see cash as an inducement?”
This was it. The way to make her plan work. She didn’t particularly like it, but what other out did she have?
“I thought about that.”
“And?”
Catarina took a deep, deep breath. Tough times called for tough measures.
“You have to realize,” she said quietly, “that I’ve been dreaming about my freedom for a long time.”
“I understand, but—”
“No!” Cat put her hand on his forearm. “No, Jake. You can’t possibly understand. Not really. My parents died when I was very young. My uncle—my guardian—put me into the convent the day after the funeral and never took me out again. Not for holidays or summers or weekends. He left me there. It wasn’t just my home, my school, it was my entire world.”
“Cat, it must have been awful, but—”
“It wasn’t awful. Not all the time. Some of the sisters were good to me. I even made some friends. But when they turned eighteen they left. They went through those gates, Jake, the way I’d always thought I would. But I didn’t. I had to watch them go while I stayed behind for another three endless years.” Her fingers caught his shirt and twisted into it. “The only thing that kept me from going crazy was dreaming about what it would be like when I finally walked through those gates, too.”
Jake could feel a tightness in his throat. His own childhood had been hit and miss. He’d courted danger and often found it, had his nose bloodied before he’d learned to throw the first punch to protect himself. But he’d had a mother who loved him and the city of New York as his playground, and when he’d turned eighteen he’d left the bad stuff behind forever.
The life Cat had just described sounded like the next best thing to doing hard time in prison.
He took her hand, clasped it between both of his.
“Cat,” he said softly, “honey—”
“Don’t you see?” Tears glittered in her eyes. “I can’t spend the rest of my life in yet another cage, no matter how glossy it might be.”
“I told you, I’ll find a good guy. One who’ll make you happy.”
“Freedom will make me happy, Jake. Only freedom!” She took a shuddering breath. “I thought about giving up my inheritance—”
“No. You’re not to do that. Your parents wanted you to have the money.”
“I know. It’s their legacy to me. And I know, too, that they thought they were doing the right thing, but—but—”
She began to weep. Jake cursed and pulled her into his lap.
“Don’t cry,” he said, holding her close against him. “Honey, don’t. Please don’t. I’ll find a way.”
Cat tilted her head back. “You will?”
“Yes. That guy at the Brazilian Embassy? I’ll phone him tomorrow, ask him to introduce you around. To introduce us around. That way I can keep tabs on the men you meet. You’ll have as much say in choosing the right one as I will.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled through her tears, swiped her hand under her nose. Jake freed one arm, reached past her for a napkin.
“Here,” he said gruffly, holding it to her nose. “Blow.”
She did. Then she gave a deep sigh and leaned against him, her head resting against his heart.
God, she was so warm. So delicate. She smelled so good, felt so good. One kiss. One little kiss, just to reassure her.
“Cat?” Jake whispered. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face until it was level with his. Her eyes grew big and dark; her lips parted. “Cat,” he said hoarsely, and put his mouth against hers.
It was as if he’d kissed her a million times before. There was no hesitation, no cautious placement of lips and noses. The second their lips met, she sighed and opened her mouth to his.
“Jake,” she whispered. “Jake…” And everything he’d promised himself about not kissing her fled his mind.
He was lost in her taste, her scent; he slipped his tongue between her lips and she gave another of those little moans, looping her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his hair and holding on to him the same way he was holding on to her—as if the world were liable to stop spinning at any moment and all they had to keep from flying into space was each other.
Somehow, he shifted his weight.
Somehow, she shifted hers, until she was sitting astride him, until his hands were beneath that silly sweatshirt and, God oh, God, he’d been right. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
Her breasts were wonderful to touch. Truly perfect. Warm and silken against his palms. Her nipples…God, her nipples begged for the heat of his mouth.
“Cat,” he said thickly, and pushed up the damned shirt, bent his head, kissed the creamy slopes of her breasts, kissed the tips, drew one then the other between his lips, gently suckling, biting, tormenting her until she cried out in ecstasy, sobbed his name and moved, moved her hips, so that she was grinding her pelvis against his.
His erection was so hard it was almost painful. His body pulsed with life. With desire. With need for Catarina.
“Wait,” Jake whispered, and he shifted her, clasped her hips, watched her face as he positioned her against him.
There were layers of clothing between them but it didn’t matter. He could feel her muscles trying to close around him, see the blindness of passion in her eyes, hear the rasp of breath. Was it hers or his?
Nothing mattered but this.
This woman.
This moment.
This, this, this…
Jake groaned, cursed, pulled back.
“Jake?” Cat whispered.
He shuddered, shook his head, sat her on the other stool. His face was white, except for a vivid streak of color across each high cheekbone.
“Tomorrow,” he said in strangled tones. “The Brazilian Embassy. I’ll make that phone call, get some names…”
“Jake—”
She was staring at him, her eyes luminous, her skin glowing, her nipples tautly defined under the sweatshirt.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”
“Not for this,” she whispered. “Please don’t be sorry for this.”
Jake tried for an answer but couldn’t find one. Instead, h
e rose from the stool and went to the door.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he started to say, but Cat’s voice cut across his.
“Jake?”
He stopped. Inhaled. Let out a long, slow breath. Where was the power of meditation when you really needed it?
“Yes?”
Cat’s pulse was hammering; her bones felt liquid. How could she tell him the rest now, with her body aching for something she didn’t really understand?
“About—about the husband you’ll find me. The one who’ll agree to a divorce.”
Jake swung around and faced her. “Cat, I just told you. A man with enough money to agree not to touch yours—”
“—won’t see any reason to go into a temporary marriage.”
“Exactly.”
“Am I pretty, Jake?”
His mouth twisted. “Catarina—”
“Just tell me the truth, okay?” She slid from the stool and walked toward him. “Am I pretty?”
“You know you are,” he said, in a voice rough as gravel.
“And—and I’m untouched. I’m a virgin.”
Did she think he didn’t know that? It was all that had kept him from taking her a minute ago, from stripping her naked, cupping her hips, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“What’s your point?”
“My point,” she said slowly, “is that the man I marry will be my legal husband. For a day, a week, a month I’ll be his wife. And…”
“And?”
“And,” she said, forgetting her plan to be subtle. How could she be subtle with Jake looking at her like that? “And I’ll give him the only gift he can’t buy.” She swallowed, forced moisture into her suddenly dry mouth. “I’ll give him my virginity—and you’re going to teach me how to do it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHAT response could a man make to a woman who had said something so outrageous?
Almost two weeks later, Jake sat at his desk in his office, still clueless. He had a million things to do—phone calls to make, appointments to keep, a stack of letters waiting for his signature—but how could he concentrate on any of them?
All he could think about was what Cat had asked him that night.
He picked up a pencil, tapped it mindlessly against the edge of the desk as he recalled how he’d stared at her, tongue-tied for the first time in his life.
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