If he’d done something wrong, getting the silent treatment wasn’t going to make it right. They had another five days together. Not talking wasn’t an option. He appreciated this gesture, knowing she’d chosen the march because she knew how much he enjoyed political and military history. But this was more important. As one of the Mothers prepared to speak, he urged Drea through the crowd.
“What are you doing? Stop it.”
“No.” He wasn’t stopping until they were someplace they could talk. Slipping an arm around her waist, ignoring the pleasurable shock of having her pressed against him, he steered her through the clumps of people gathered at the plaza and onto one of the surrounding streets.
“Joe. Stop. Let go of me.”
Scowling, he loosened his hold, guiding her toward an empty doorway. “What’s going on? And don’t try to tell me nothing’s wrong. Just tell me how I screwed up.” She gaped at him.
“You screwed up? I screwed up. Not you. Me.”
Huh? “I think you’d better explain.”
She seemed to shrink before him. “Will you let go of me now?”
“No. Talk to me, baby.” He tangled their fingers together.
She went stiff again, and he released her, biting back a growl as she sidestepped him, shoulders hunched, head down. “I’ve never done this before,” she mumbled at the ground.
Never done what? She wasn’t a virgin. “I don’t follow.”
She tipped her head back and his gut twisted at the misery in her eyes. “This. Whatever the hell it is we’re doing. It takes me a while to get to the point where I’ll sleep with the guy I’m dating, and we’re not even dating. And I’ve never done what we did this morning.”
“What, had sex in the shower?”
She shook her head, red spreading over her cheeks. “Before that.”
“Morning sex? C’mon, D, everyone’s had morning sex.”
“All of it! Everything! Everything since last night!”
“It was your idea!”
“I know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I always know what I’m supposed to do. It’s why I wait so long to have sex. I have to know the guy will be there in the morning. That he’ll keep calling, that we’ll keep seeing each other. It means something to me, dammit. And last night, and this morning, and in the shower…it didn’t mean a damn thing.”
Didn’t mean anything? That was a punch he hadn’t seen coming. Stunned, he watched as she folded in on herself, trying to scrunch into a corner. It must have smelled, because she wrinkled her nose and stepped forward, holding herself rigid.
“D.” Christ, what was he supposed to say? Honesty. They’d built their friendship on honesty to the point of being blunt, at times, and this shouldn’t be any different. “I don’t know what’s going on either. All I wanted was to find out what would happen if we acted on this attraction between us.”
Her head snapped up. “And?”
“And I enjoyed the hell out of it. God, I couldn’t get enough of you. I didn’t want to leave the damn room today. In fact, if you don’t have plans for the rest of the day, I’m pretty sure maid service will have come and gone. We can mess up the clean sheets.” He grinned, the expression fading as she continued to stare at him. He sighed. “I don’t know what’s here any more than you do. Trying to figure it out, thinking about it, considering all the possibilities would give me a headache. So why don’t we stop worrying about it and go with it? It is what it is.”
She’d started shaking her head before he’d stopped talking. “No, no, I can’t. That’s not how I work.”
He drew her to him. “Do you want to stop?” he asked softly.
Her hesitation just about killed him, and her “I don’t know” was muffled by his shirt.
Okay. He could do this, back off and treat her the same as he always had. But he made one last grab at the bright, shiny possibility of a lust- and fun-filled week. “Think about it this way. We know each other already. We’ve added a new dimension, that’s all. We’ll see how it works. If it doesn’t, we cut it out.” Sliding his fingers under her chin, he tilted her head back and kissed her.
She did that softening, melting thing against him. He wanted her to do it more often. “Last night was pretty amazing, wasn’t it?”
He grinned. “Yeah it was.”
Her lips tipped up in a sly smile. “I knew it.” Her smile widened as he laughed. “You’re right. I doubt I’d be able to share that bed with you for the rest of the week and not want your hands on me.”
“Good.” He slid a hand up her back, curving it around her neck. “Now, about that soccer match…”
Chapter Nine
She really was cute. Sweet. Cute and sweet. The women he dated could be cute, and sweet, but he’d never use the words to describe them. Those two words were an inherent part of Drea.
She was on the other side of the cave-like room, the walls covered in slate, as was the floor, meant to look like one of the old caves wine was stored in. He’d tuned out when the guide, in lightly accented English, started explaining each of the wines. He had no problem drinking the wine. He could just do without the commentary.
“Ready for another taste?”
He almost jumped out of his shoes. One of the helpers or guides or whatever the hell they were called, had appeared at his elbow, bearing a bottle of wine. The woman had the kind of looks that would have a man doing a double take and checking for drool. His kind of woman. Slim, big brown eyes smiling flirtatiously at him, with a sleek cap of dark brown hair. Without thinking, he smiled back as he held out his glass. “Sure.” Red spilled into the bowl. “Ah, what kind is this one?”
“It’s a bonarda, from the Mendoza region. Most of Argentina’s vineyards are there.” She nodded to his glass. “Try it.”
The wine was rich and dark, heavy on his tongue. Drea would probably like it. He glanced around and spotted her chatting with another guide. “D?”
She wandered over, and he handed her the glass. She sipped, cheeks hollowing as she held the liquid on her tongue. “Mmph. Good. What is it?”
The woman was still smiling, though it had cooled to a bright, fake, professional smile. Weird. “Bonarda. Would you like a glass?”
“Please.”
The woman dipped her head once and walked off. She had a nice ass. Though it wasn’t nearly as nice as Drea’s.
“Heartbreaker.”
“Huh?” Drea was smiling up at him, mischief in her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
She tapped a finger to her lips. “You. Duh. You were checking out her ass as she walked away, weren’t you? And then she was all cool and polite to me and practically screaming take me take me! at you.”
Panic rose. Caught, but his panic disappeared as quickly as it had come. No defense was necessary but the truth. “Yours is better.”
Her cheeks went pink, and he couldn’t help himself. He bent his head and kissed her. Cute. Sweet. So very sweet, his Drea.
His Drea.
Wasn’t that interesting, he thought as he eased back. His Drea. She’d always been his, in a way. She’d become one of his closest friends. Only now he wasn’t thinking of her in a very friendly manner. No, it was more than that. Maybe much more.
He pulled her closer and nipped the wineglass from her hand, dropping a kiss on her mouth. “Mine,” he murmured.
“Yeah, well, your friend hasn’t shown up with mine yet.” She distracted him with an elbow to the belly and grabbed the glass. “This stuff’s good.”
It was good. It tasted good in the glass. Even better on her lips.
Listening to his thoughts, you’d think this was only about sex. He fingered the small bag he’d stashed in his pocket. He’d been carrying the damn earrings around since that first morning, trying to find a good, casual time to give them to her. He’d bought them before the idea of actually sleeping with her morphed into a very real possibility, which was weird. They didn’t buy each other stuff. Not even
birthday presents. But she’d been eyeing the silver dangles with avarice, so when she’d moved on to the next table, he’d dropped back and bought them.
Well, now was as good a time as any.
The guide chose that moment to return with Drea’s wine, flashing him another come-hither look before sauntering off.
“Bitch,” Drea muttered.
“Now that’s not very nice.” She’d gone stiff and tense. He trailed his fingers down her arm, leading her farther into the room.
“She’s the one hitting on you when I’m standing right here.” Great. She wasn’t a little pissed off about it. She was bordering on fuming. Gulping down wine, she shot a glare over her shoulder, he assumed in the direction of the other woman.
“Hey.” He nudged her into a corner and took her chin between his fingers. “Ignore her.”
Her mouth dropped open to protest some more, so he leaned in and covered it with his own. She tasted spicy and tart, like the wine she’d drunk. Delicious. Kissing her had moved way up on the list of things he liked to do with her.
She drew away, her eyes a little glassy. “Have I told you you’re an outstanding kisser?”
He took the glass she handed him and set them both on a nearby rack, uncaring if they smashed on the floor. “Pretty sure you haven’t. Wanna go somewhere more private where you can tell me again?”
She laughed, smacking her palm against his chest. “Soon, grasshopper. I heard there’s supposed to be this amazing steak place on the river. Thought we could go there for dinner.”
He lifted the hand at his chest to his lips, nibbling on her fingers. “Sounds good. I’d like to point out there’s several hours between now and dinner.”
She flushed again. “I was hoping we could check out a few museums before they close for the day.”
Museums were not his idea of a good time, and she knew it. That hadn’t stopped her from nagging him into touring a few over the years. A good place to get new ideas, she said. Considering this vacation was courtesy of their newest client, and upon their return they’d need to get started on the campaign, hitting up some of the local museums would be smart, even though he hated anything that smacked of work when he was supposed to be off.
Good thing he enjoyed his job as much as he did.
“Or we could do something else,” she said softly. Her cheeks went redder, and he clamped down on the grin forming. Could she get any more adorable?
He nipped into her upper lip. “Come on.”
She did her best to push the incident from her mind as they meandered through the Museum of Modern Latin Art. Unfortunately, her best wasn’t quite good enough.
The woman at the wine tasting bothered her a lot more than she wanted him to know. It wasn’t so much she was hitting on him while she standing right next to him, though yeah, it bugged her. It was more what she looked like. Slender. Drop dead gorgeous. She’d reminded her of his ex, Rachel.
The nasty thoughts had no place here. They had a few days left, and she wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of her enjoyment of them.
“Hungry yet?” Joe asked.
She stepped closer to him to avoid being run over by a cyclist, fighting off the contented sigh as he slipped an arm around her waist, stroking the curve of her hip. None of her previous boyfriends had been quite as demonstrative and publicly affectionate as he was. “Getting there.” She peered up at the hopeful look on his face and burst out laughing. “God, where do you put it? You pigged out at lunch today.”
“Hours ago, D. Gotta keep up with my super-fast metabolism. And,” he said, dipping his head to slick his tongue over her lower lip, “someone’s been demanding a lot of energy.” He grinned as heat flared over her cheeks. “Do you know how cute you are when you blush?”
Cute. She was beginning to loathe the word. The woman at the tasting was not cute. She narrowed her eyes. “Cute, huh? I’ll show you cute.” Not caring they were in the middle of the sidewalk, she drove her fingers into his stomach, determined to get him to squirm as he’d done to her so many times before.
His smile was patient and amused as he stood there. “How many times have we covered this? You know I’m not ticklish, baby.” Grabbing her hands, he kissed her fingers before tucking one of her hands around his hips, the warm weight of his arm settling across her shoulders.
Baby. She wished he’d stop using the endearment. It gave her ideas, long-term, romantically slanted ideas, where what had been started in Buenos Aires continued back in Boston. Ideas like that led to disappointment.
They resumed their meandering toward the riverfront. “Thanks for going with me to the museums this afternoon.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “It was a good idea. Might come in handy when we start on the next phase of the San Mateo campaign.” They dodged another cyclist. “Christ. Dude almost ran over my toes.”
The restaurant wasn’t crowded when they stepped inside. It was still early by Argentine standards, the sun low in the sky, the heat of the day waning. They were shown to a table on the shaded patio overlooking the river. She wrinkled her nose. “Kind of disappointing, isn’t it? So brown. Ugly.” Maybe it wasn’t so brown the farther out you went. They’d find out tomorrow when they took the boat across to Montevideo.
She snapped open her napkin. “Do we need to meet with the manager while we’re here?”
He shook his head. “Don’t think so. Wouldn’t be much point, except to tour the hotel. The campaign is for the entire chain, not just the hotel we’re staying at. Although, like the museums, it might come in handy.”
It probably would. She pulled at her lower lip. “When would we have time for it, though? We’ve only got two days left.”
“And you’ve got every minute of those two days planned out, don’t you?” he teased. “Relax. Go with it. We’re taking a boat somewhere tomorrow, right?” She nodded. “So we find time the next day.”
“I—”
He kissed her, effectively cutting off her protests. “Go with it,” he murmured. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to spend some time wandering. Let’s see what we see.”
She squirmed. Her need to cram as much into their vacation was almost as great as her need to have him kiss her again. His kisses were so addictive, they should be illegal. Probably were in several states. “The only thing I really want to do that we haven’t yet is visit Café Tortoni.”
“What, no tango show?” He reached for the menu the server had dropped in the center of the table.
“Oh, no, there’s a tango show. Our last night. Already made reservations.” She skimmed the menu. The place had seafood. God, after all the beef, it’d probably taste like heaven.
She almost dropped the menu when a small bronze-colored bag plopped in front of her.
“What’s this?” Picking it up, she glanced over at him, a strained grin on his face. She undid the knotted strings and turned the bag upside down, the contents falling into her palm. Silver caught the last of the dying sunlight and winked. Earrings. Unless she was mistaken, they were the ones she’d decided to go back for on their last day. Guess she wouldn’t have to now.
Wait. Joe had bought these for her. Joe never bought her anything.
He said, “I knew you’d end up dragging me back to get them and be all sad panda when they weren’t there anymore.” He looked nervous and trying to hide it. The stupidly sweet gesture twisted her heart, and she sucked in a breath. Go with it. Take it for what it is. A nice thing to do for a friend.
Unless it was more.
It couldn’t be. He’d been clear from the beginning what this was. A chance to explore, and no mentions of continuing that exploration at home. Puncturing the bubble of hope inflating in her chest, she leaned across the table and kissed him. “Thanks.”
Chapter Ten
Going with the flow was a hell of a lot harder than Joe made it look.
She scowled at him, happy and goofy and trying to order in broken Spanish as they sat in the famous Café Tort
oni. Such a guy thing to do. He’d done it yesterday, too, when he’d tried to buy bottles of water for the two of them on the boat ride to Montevideo. It made her think of Zach, but for the first time, she realized she didn’t miss him.
No, not him, more what he’d been to her. A guy who was patient. Who wasn’t after a quick screw. Who loved her and liked her and pushed past her insecurities. Who’d shown her if she waited long enough, a good man would come along and be everything she needed him to be.
Unlike the string of men who had preceded him.
“D? What do you want?”
His question interrupted her musings. “Um. An iced coffee. Do they have gelato?” She’d discovered the ice cream like treat a few days ago, and she’d indulged her sweet tooth every day since.
“Sí. We have gelato,” the server responded, his accent thick.
“Dolce de leche?” she asked hopefully.
He smiled and nodded, and her own lips spread in a grin. All the ice cream would probably go straight to her thighs. Right now she could have cared less.
The server disappeared to fill their order, and Joe brought their linked hands to his mouth, nibbling on her fingertips. “So, super tourist, what’s on the agenda for this evening?”
Easy. Going with the flow. “A tango show and dinner. They give a lesson after dinner before opening the place up for dancing.” When she’d found out about the show before their trip, she’d intended for them to leave after dinner, skipping the lesson and the dancing. The Argentine tango was such a sensual, touch-heavy dance that it would have been way over the line of friendship.
Then the sex happened, and the line wasn’t there any longer. She was free to rub herself against him as much as she liked. He could mold her body to his.
Her lewd thoughts came to a crashing halt with his next words. “Dancing? D, I have no rhythm. I’m white. I can’t dance.”
“Neither can I. That’s why they give a lesson after the show. C’mon,” she cajoled, “it’ll be fun. You’ve seen a tango before, right?”
One Night in Buenos Aires Page 6
