Leaning on the railing, he let his thoughts drift as he watched the street below, the cars jostling for position, the pedestrians alternately hurrying and slowing down. It was hard to get a bead on the city from this little corner of it. His shoulders twitched under the steady beat of the sun. They’d need water. It was pretty damn hot out.
“Hey.”
He turned slowly. She stood in the doorway, her hair pinned up, and he found himself wishing she’d left it down. Her flushed cheeks matched the pink of her thin dress. “Um. Bathroom’s free, if you want to take a shower.” Her gaze flitted away from his, landing on her feet, hands clasped in front of her. Her knuckles were white, and she peeked up at him before dropping her eyes once more, pink cheeks deepening to red.
He didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded and escaped into the bathroom.
The warm, pounding water helped clear his head. They needed to get out, do touristy things, talk like they always did. He’d secure another room so this wouldn’t happen again. Not that it would, even if they were forced to share a bed again tonight. His brain and his body had always been in total agreement when it came to women, and she didn’t fit. It had to have been travel fatigue that had him thinking his friend was ripe for the picking.
He shaved, pulled on clean clothes, and admonished himself once more before leaving the bathroom. No thinking about her ass, or how her mouth had felt under his. They were here to have a good time. In the platonic, tourist sense.
She sat on the edge of the bed. CNN World News was on the small flat screen mounted to the wall, and some impeccably coiffed anchor was chattering away about oil prices. She stiffened when he sat next to her. Casual. Don’t bring up what happened, and it’ll go away. “So what did you want to see first?”
The tension drained from her shoulders. “Maybe the Teatro Colon? And Recoleta Cemetery.”
“A cemetery? Really?”
Her face grew red, and she mumbled something.
He said, “I’m sorry, I missed that.”
She glared at him. “I said I want to see the cats.”
The grin tugging at his lips was a relief. The bite of temper was pure Drea, and something she seemed to reserve only for him. His stomach rumbled. The tamales the night before were a distant memory. He needed more food, and he needed it soon. “Cats it is. C’mon. Let’s go find some food.”
“Wait, before we go out, can you do me a favor? I can’t reach the spot between my shoulder blades.” She held up a tube of sunscreen.
Touch her. Touch her skin. Bad, bad idea. And he was being an idiot. He took the sunscreen from her and motioned for her to turn around. Squeezing the thick cream onto his fingers, he reached out, then hesitated. “Might be a bit cold.” Stop stalling.
She started when his fingers smoothed over her shoulders, spreading the coconut-scented sunscreen over the pale skin bared by her dress. The longer he stroked, the more it disappeared, until her flesh was warm under his hands and her breathing had gone ragged. He was having trouble breathing himself.
He dropped his hands. “I think you’re good.”
She nodded mutely, keeping her back to him. Now what? His fingers were sticky. Before he could get up to wash them, she handed him the tube again. “Put it on. Don’t want your nose getting sunburned.”
Ten minutes later, they were out on the street and debating which direction to go. The concierge had told them about a café around the corner where they could get something to eat, although breakfast wasn’t exactly a meal most Argentines ate. He needed food, but Drea wanted to walk around some first.
He decided the argument by starting down the street to the café. “Have you forgotten already how I get when I’m hungry?”
She stumbled along beside him. “You turn into a bitch.”
Not the description he would have chosen, but he was too hungry to argue. “Let me eat, dammit. Then we’ll go find your damn cats.”
They found the café, and he was pleased to see he could get an actual breakfast instead of some tiny muffin and a cup of coffee. He wasted no time ordering and ignored the eye roll she gave him before she placed her own order.
Then she proceeded to eat half his potatoes in between bites of her croissant.
With a table between them and her stealing food off his plate, as usual, the jittery tension drained and he was able to put what happened that morning out of his mind. He teased her as they left the café. “You mean you haven’t memorized every single page of the guidebook? For shame. And here I was expecting you to know the city like a native.”
“Hey, no mocking my preparedness. You wouldn’t want to go wandering through the city’s worst neighborhood and get mugged, would you?”
“But that was on my list. You know, the one you didn’t bother to ask for? Maybe I wanted to get mugged in a strange city.” He danced away as she tried to elbow him in the side.
They took their time strolling through the sun-dappled streets, heading for the cemetery. Despite it being the middle of the week, the sidewalks were crowded. They had to weave around a couple of clumps of what he thought were German tour groups. He let her walk in front of him until they were clear of the worst of it.
And if he noticed the way her hips moved under her dress, well, she didn’t need to know. Stop it. Thoughts like that wouldn’t keep things on the level for them. They needed that other room. Tonight.
The cemetery gates were open, people strolling through the rows. Mausoleums surrounded by wrought-iron railings were interspersed with low headstones, murmurs of tourists and family members floating on the faint breeze.
“I think Eva Perón’s supposed to be—Oh! There’s one!”
He jolted as she darted forward, following a black-and-white cat through the lanes. When it stopped, she squatted down and held out her hand. “That’s probably not such a good idea…”
She shushed him. “The cats here are friendly, for the most part. The cemetery caretaker and a few animal organizations take care of them. Food, water, spaying and neutering. They’re fine.”
They followed the cat back to a large mausoleum, where another ten or so cats lounged on the stone steps. He watched with amusement as she smoothed her skirts and sat on the steps, petting whichever animal happened to come closest. “Seriously? We come all the way to Argentina so you can pet a bunch of cats?”
Instead of sniping at him, she smiled sadly. “Yeah.”
Oops. He’d almost forgotten she’d lost her beloved pet a few months ago. She’d had the cat since it was a kitten, moving with her from her parents’ home in suburban Pittsburgh to college apartments to Boston. Delia had been old, but losing her had been hard. He’d seen the aftermath; she’d sobbed like a baby in his arms, and she’d been quiet and almost morose for days afterward.
He shooed a few cats away and sat next to her, absently reaching for her hand as a cat came up to sniff his feet.
His fingers curled around hers, and when he realized what he was doing, he tensed. Shit. That didn’t go with putting this morning’s incident behind them. He glanced down at their hands. It felt oddly right, holding her hand. Too right.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Chapter Three
It would be rude to tug her hand free. And it felt nice. His hand was strong, fingers long and slim, like the rest of him. Except for one part. Long, yes. Slim, no. Definitely not slim.
This was so not like her. Those completely inappropriate thoughts were not hers. Just like the woman in the bed this morning wasn’t her. That woman was completely wanton and…and…she’d really enjoyed herself, and she wanted to keep going until they were naked and wound around each other, a twisted, sweaty tangle of limbs, drifting in the hazy afterglow of pleasure. But the spell had been broken the moment she opened her eyes and found Joe staring at her, and the only thing to do was stop and get out of bed before they did something they couldn’t undo.
She should enjoy the moment. It wasn’t going to last, anyway. Not with the way s
he looked. Too many curves, not enough straight lines. Tess and Rachel both could have passed for clothes hangers, fabric draping gracefully. On her, the same thing would have caught on something, and she’d have looked ridiculous.
She pushed away the depressing thoughts. Joe wasn’t her type anyway, so dwelling on it was pointless. Holding hands, they wandered out of the cemetery and onto the plaza. Several artisans had set up tables while they’d been petting cats and finding famous dead people, and she headed straight for the tables.
Joe groaned. “D? Seriously?”
She slid him a glance as she tugged him toward the plaza. “Seriously what? I am a girl, and as such, I like shiny things. Plus, weren’t you telling me a few minutes ago I needed to be more spontaneous?”
“Said spontaneity doesn’t have to include shopping.” He sighed. “I thought you were better than that. Too good to fall prey to the sparkle.”
“Nope. It’s in our DNA. If it’s shiny or sparkly, we pounce like crows.” She stopped and caught his other hand. “Please? I let you find every single dead president in the cemetery.”
He pulled out his phone. “Fifteen minutes. You can drool as much as you want.”
“You’re so generous,” she said drily, stopping at the first table. She really didn’t need any more jewelry. Especially earrings.
But hold on. Those silver twists were so pretty…
There were tables full of jewelry, small textiles, and pieces of pottery. A few tables held paintings or photos for sale. She ought to buy one of the framed photos to send to her parents. They loved art and bought a piece whenever they went someplace new.
She reached the end of the tables and realized she was alone. When had he let go of her hand? He was slipping something into one of his pockets at a table about ten tables away. His grin gave nothing away as he approached, just took her hand again. “Anything else you wanted to drool over?”
“Ha-ha.” She stuck out her tongue and shifted her hold so their fingers laced together. Neat and tight, interlocking. It was disconcerting how well they fit together, and a little scary.
They’d fit pretty well together this morning. Before they both realized what they were doing.
Stop it, Drea.
She shook herself. “No, I’m good. We should head over to the theater and sign up for the tour.” They bumped and brushed against one another as they navigated the sidewalks to the bus stop, and with each touch, her nerves screamed a little more, reminding her how his hands had felt on her curves. They hadn’t talked about this morning. She was biting her tongue in half to keep from saying something, because if she did, that would make her that girl. The one who had to dissect everything, ask “What does it mean?” when it was probably her subconscious telling her to start dating again.
So she ignored it, as well as the rising desire to kiss him. Because what if it wasn’t as good as it had been when she was mostly asleep and dreaming?
She wrinkled her nose as they were hit with a wave of exhaust fumes. “I didn’t expect this place to smell this much.” A bus slid to the curb and they climbed on, standing in the aisle due to a lack of empty seats. “Thanks for coming to the cemetery with me. I didn’t mean to spend so long there.”
He grinned. “Not sure why you’d fly thousands of miles to pet a bunch of cats.” She swatted him, and he tried to arch away, almost backing into the person behind him in the aisle. “Why not get a new pet?”
She could. Cats were pretty self-sufficient, and she wasn’t likely to repeat the long hours she’d been working the last few months to land the San Mateo account. But Delia had been a constant in her life for a long, long time. She’d stuck with her through high school bullies and college, her first apartment in Boston and her breakup with Zach. A quiet, fuzzy confidante, and as ridiculous as it felt, she wasn’t sure she was ready for another pet. She didn’t want that level of attachment.
She shrugged. She’d get a new cat when she was ready. Or maybe she wouldn’t. It had been nice to come home and not have to deal with the medications and cleaning up the messes Delia had left behind while she’d been at work. And not having to line up a pet sitter while she was on vacation had taken a lot of the old stress of traveling away. It made her feel hideously selfish, but she wanted a little more time to herself.
She needed a topic. A nice, safe topic, preferably one that would allow her to tease him mercilessly. Oh. Perfect. “How’s Sandra?” she asked innocently. Sandra was the new administrative assistant, and she’d made it quite clear she wanted Joe.
A look of discomfort slid across his face. “About the same. She’s not backing off. Maybe you can think of something?”
She nibbled a hangnail, then stared at her thumb in disgust. She’d broken the habit a long time ago. “I dunno. It’s pretty entertaining to watch her drape herself all over you. She makes sure you get the good coffee. And bagels. She runs out and gets you lunch without being asked. Dude, I’d take advantage of it.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of it.” That was true to form. He had his dickish moments, but preying on others wasn’t one of them. “I’ve already told her I’ve got a girlfriend, so she should be leaving me alone, right?”
That was a surprise. He hadn’t said he was seeing someone new. Sure, she wasn’t the kind of friend he shared every little detail with, but the big stuff? Absolutely.
She said, “Not all women take that as a sign to back off.” She tucked her thumb into her fist. “So now that things have settled down again, you gonna let me meet her?” And are we going to talk about what happened this morning? What had been an innocent mistake born of travel stress and fatigue had taken on a darker, more twisted meaning. She wasn’t about to let a man cheat on his girlfriend. Particularly if that man was a friend, someone she respected.
She was getting nauseous just thinking about it.
“Meet who?”
She swatted him again, pasting a bright smile on her face. “Your girlfriend, silly.”
The bus jerked to a halt, and she stumbled forward, her hands connecting with his chest as she caught herself. His hands caught her hips. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Move. Her hands refused to cooperate. She needed to back up, regain her space bubble. His hands slid from her hips to her waist, circling it. “Took me by surprise, that’s all.” She inched closer, fighting with the tiny voice telling her to stop.
He craned his neck, trying to see around the other passengers in the aisle. “Probably a red light or something.” He grinned down at her. “No girlfriend. When have I had time to date in the last few months? I told Sandra that to get her to leave me alone. Don’t people do that all the time? Haven’t you told someone you have a boyfriend when you really don’t?”
She tried to tell herself that wasn’t relief coursing through her. No cheating had occurred. That didn’t mean what was happening right now was a good idea. She inched around anyway, her back to his front, and covered his hands with her own. “All the time. Doesn’t always work, though. Face it, you could be wearing a wedding ring and still get hit on. Some people have no scruples about that sort of thing. Sounds like Sandra might be one of them.”
A shiver crept down her spine as his lips brushed her ear. “I could tell her I was dating you.”
She twisted her head to the side, stopping when their mouths were inches apart. “That doesn’t strike me as a smart idea,” she murmured, her gaze trained on his mouth. So close. So, so close.
What the hell was she doing? This was Joe. She was not attracted to him, and he was not attracted to her. Had they both swallowed a healthy dose of crazy with their morning coffee?
She edged away, keeping her back to him as she fought to make sense of what had happened. They’d been plastered against each other a crowded bus. She was wide awake and in full control of her body, and yet she’d been about to kiss him. On a bus. In the middle of Buenos Aires, after he’d woken her with a mind-blowing rush of sensation.
Obviously, they needed to ta
lk, because the likelihood of something very, very stupid happening soon increased with each minute they didn’t talk about it.
They’d talk after they toured the theater. They’d be polite and civilized and do a nice touristy thing and then have a glass of wine somewhere. Argentina was well known for its reds, and she’d been looking forward to trying some.
They wound their way down the aisle and off the bus, the crowd crossing the Avenida 9th of July swallowing them. The theater stood sentinel at the corner, and she paused on the sidewalk, squinting up at the building. “I think the entrance we want is around the side,” she said, pointing to the left. Without waiting to see if he followed her, she walked away.
He caught up with her and took her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she withdrew it, swallowing the pang of sadness as she did so. It was hormones, and it needed to stop before they crossed a line they couldn’t uncross. She needed to be able to work with him.
She needed to be able to talk with him. Joke with him.
He left her alone after that, and she tried to enjoy the tour. The grandeur of one of the world’s premier theaters was dulled, though, by her anxiety and need to reassure herself, and him, that everything was fine. The confusion she’d felt rolling off him earlier had been replaced by a coolness, and he was careful to keep his distance.
Staring up at the ceiling of the main lobby, she tried to figure out what she could say that wouldn’t make her sound like she was blowing this out of proportion.
“Hey, D?”
She jumped at the hand on her back, squeaking for good measure. “What?” It came out breathless.
He smiled, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. “You almost done here? I’d like to grab some lunch.”
She wasn’t getting as much out of the tour as she’d hoped. The theater was lovely, but the tour guide’s babble went in one ear and out the other. And her stomach was rumbling again. “Yeah.”
After the relative quiet and coolness of the theatre, the plaza outside gave her a mild shock. Summers in Boston were hotter than it was in Buenos Aires, but right now, her body conditioned to cold and snow, it was disorienting.
One Night in Buenos Aires Page 2
