by Aimee Carson
Marcos ignored the remarks and plowed on, lines of aggravation engraved around his mouth. “You were named a beneficiary of Dad’s trust. It leaves you an additional fifty-million-dollar inheritance.”
Paulo tossed the ball onto his desk. It landed with a thunk and rolled off to hit the floor.
Money. Always about the damn money. It was the only kind of success his dad had understood. And after investing years of hard work, with barely a word of acknowledgment from his old man, the final insult had come at his father’s death. Marcos’s role as the favorite child had payed off big-time when he was handed the throne.
And now Paulo had been beaten out by his brother for his dad’s attention one final time.
His gut buckled under the weight of the memory. “I’m not interested.”
“Don’t be childish.”
Paulo couldn’t believe the words. After the stunt Marcos had pulled, he was calling him childish?
“Dad wanted you to have it,” his brother went on.
“Your wife is addicted to the finer things in life. She couldn’t stand the thought she might have to live on less.” Paulo speared his fingers through his hair. “So why don’t you give the money to her?”
Marcos didn’t move, and something unrecognizable flickered in his eyes. “Money isn’t the reason Bianca left you.”
The verbal smack hit Paulo hard, and his hand landed on the desk with a thump. “She left me when I threatened to leave the company, hooked up with you, and then took another vow of forever right after you inherited it all.” He cocked his head in disbelief. “That’s a helluva coincidence.”
Marcos’s titanium steel gaze bored into Paulo’s. “You never did understand her.”
Undaunted, Paulo stood up from his chair, staring back. “I understand her better than you think.” He would not waste his time debating his ex-wife with his brother. “It’s time for you to go.”
Face red, Marcos looked ready to blow. “We’ll discuss this again later.”
Paulo nodded toward the door. “This discussion is over.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALYSSA sat in the empty bleachers, bathed in the light of the setting sun. The rumbling roar grew louder as the pack of motorcycles zoomed by, leaving the acrid smell of hot rubber in its wake. Alyssa held her breath as Paulo leaned deep to take the curve, his knee almost dragging the pavement. When he was safely around Alyssa relaxed, remembering to inhale.
Everything about the man left her breathless. And when Paulo had stopped back at her office to invite her along for his practice run she should have said no. But she’d said yes. Partly because she was still dazed from the moment on her desk an hour earlier. And partly because…well, because she wanted to.
It had been so easy for Paulo to sidetrack her today. What started as a simple kiss had turned her into someone she hadn’t recognized. And she still couldn’t believe some of the things she’d said to him.
Worrying the button on her cuff, she watched Paulo pull off to the side and dismount, the first one to finish. His lean form was encased in a protective racing suit. The uniform only increased the man’s sex appeal, and her body started that crazy internal cha-cha again. She let out a self-directed, chastising snort.
Paulo Domingues, able to take a woman from borderline frigid to knocking on nympho in ten seconds flat.
When Paulo headed into the concession stand, her tension eased a touch. And then the second place finisher parked next to Paulo’s Ducati, flipped up the visor on his helmet, and scanned the bleachers. Surprised, Alyssa watched him lope up the stairs in her direction.
“You must be Alyssa.” He came to a stop in front of her bench, propping a foot on the seat beside her. “Nick Tatum,” he said as he pulled off his headgear. “Owner of the hottest nightclub in South Beach and Paulo’s oldest friend.” He stuck out a hand, his green eyes twinkling. “In duration, that is, not in age.”
Alyssa returned the shake, laughing at his disclaimer. “Nice to meet you.”
He was good looking in an all-American way, his brown hair sun kissed with glints of gold. “Anything you want to know about Paulo, just ask.”
Alyssa studied him closely. A very noteworthy statement. And one that left her wondering if it was a warning. But she kept her tone light. “Is there anything in particular you think I should know?”
A rakish grin appeared. “A very perceptive woman, I see.” He paused before going on. “But on second thought…” He tipped his head. “I wouldn’t want to kill the mystery.”
“Is mystery a good thing or a bad thing?”
He leaned closer, as if sharing a secret, his grin so big Alyssa had to smile. “Depends on who you ask,” he said.
Paulo appeared behind his friend, a tray laden with two hot dogs in his hand. “Are you done flirting?” The tone was easy.
Too easy. Because Paulo’s expression was hard, his eyes sharp. The moment froze, tension snapping in the air like heat lightning on a summer evening.
Nick’s forehead furrowed in amusement. “Ease up, bro.” Removing his foot from beside Alyssa, he straightened up. “I’m not moving in on your territory.”
Paulo switched his gaze to Alyssa. “I didn’t say you were.” He held a hot dog in her direction and took a seat in the exact spot where Nick’s foot had been.
The position was intentional, and Alyssa bit back the laugh, strangely tickled at Paulo’s discomfort. It was such an unexpected turn of events. But she should at least pretend to be offended. As she reached for the hot dog, she shot them both a grow-up look. “Territory?” she said dryly. “Is that really a term you two use?”
“Hell, no,” Paulo said.
“At least not in mixed company,” Nick added. “My Neanderthal-looking friend here is exuding more testosterone than usual, so it seemed appropriate.” Paulo was now scowling outright, but a grin lit Nick’s face. “But don’t worry,” he said as he clapped Paulo’s shoulder. “I just wanted to meet Alyssa and find out what’s responsible for your win tonight.” The man rubbed his chin with a finger. “Whatever it is that has you bugged, you sure seemed willing to put your life in peril.”
As he looked at Alyssa, Nick jerked his head in Paulo’s direction and continued. “Watching him bang his head against the wall in frustration might be more fun than Lady Gaga in concert, but it’s also a guarantee he’ll risk life and limb to beat me on the track.”
Alyssa looked curiously at Paulo.
But by now Paulo’s face was bland, and he lifted a brow at his friend. “Are you going to stand there and be helpful all night?”
“Easy on the sarcasm, my friend. You might hurt yourself.” Nick shot Paulo another grin, obviously undaunted by his friend’s hint to leave. “I’m just keepin’ it real.” He looked down at the hot dog Alyssa was holding. “By the way, in case you didn’t know, Paulo’s loaded.” Eyes sparkling, he nodded at her food. “You should hold out for a better dinner. And now,” Nick said, sending his friend a salute, “she’s all yours.” He shot Alyssa a wink and then turned to lope back down the bleachers.
Nick’s comments were interesting, because she had sensed Paulo’s strained, almost dark mood when he’d picked her up. Gazing out over the track, she ate her hot dog, pondering the source.
Finally, she had to ask. “Why do you take the risk?” When he sent her a questioning look, she nodded toward the track. “The dangerous speeds. The death-defying corners.” She shook her head. “It’s crazy.”
He gave a careless shrug. “The key to speed is keeping tight control over your bike.”
Remembering their blistering encounters, her voice went low. “You like to keep everything under your control, don’t you?”
Paulo lifted a brow, his eyes now glowing with amusement. “Let’s not turn this into an attempt to psychoanalyze my personality.” He looked at her half-eaten hot dog and then at her, his voice rumbling sensually. “Now, finish up so I can take you home.”
The promise in his statement had her heart rate
doing double time, creating a hum of desire as she stared at him, her insides twirling. Clever little maneuver he had there, wielding his charm to redirect the conversation.
After finishing her hot dog, she leaned back on her hands and watched him polish off his food. “It’s not going to work, you know.” His eyebrows lifted in question, and she tipped her head. “Trying to seduce me with the adrenaline-junkie attitude.”
“It won’t?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Hmm.” His voice low, he leaned in, bringing those better-than-chocolate eyes closer. “What will it take?”
Desire skipped along her nerves. Shoot. She really needed to work on being harder to get. “Sorry,” she said softly. “But I have to make you suffer a little first.”
His gaze moved to her mouth. “As if you hadn’t already,” Paulo said. “The Alyssa that finally came out to play today was inspiring.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “I’ve never been so turned on in my life.”
She bit her lip, her heart thumping. “I was a bit…graphic.”
“Oh, yeah. And I want more from where that came from,” he growled. He narrowed his eyes. “But maybe you should wait until I have the equipment to follow through.”
“Consider it revenge for shamelessly seducing a woman who was trying to work.”
His lips twitched. “I look forward to letting you seduce me instead.” He stood and took Alyssa’s hand, pulling her to her feet. “We can start the celebration of my win with a drink at your place,” he said, and turned to lead her down the steps.
The words and his tone, combined with the feel of her fingers entwined with his, sent her desire heavenward. Suddenly, exerting a bit of control of her own seemed vital. “Are you inviting yourself over to my apartment?” she scolded, her tone teasing. She gently shook her head. “Your invitation. Your idea.” They reached the ground and headed in the direction of the Ducati. She sent him a deliberate look. “I think it should be at your place.”
Every fiber in Paulo’s being immediately balked at the idea, and he fought the need to frown. Listening to the gravel crunch beneath their feet, he was careful to keep his expression shuttered as he wrestled with the thought of her at his house.
Because it went against his rules. He kept his affairs separate from his private life. Out of his home. Out of his space. It made it easier to get them out of his life. And the thought of Alyssa in his bed was like moving too fast into a curve, flirting with disaster. Knowing one false move and their relationship would spin out from under him, hurtling them both toward a painful crash.
He didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. And he sure as hell didn’t want to think about all the reasons this woman was a risk to his hard-earned peace of mind. All he wanted was to get lost in the rare chemistry they shared. To watch Alyssa enjoy it, too. Especially after the day he’d had…
Wound tight from his seduction efforts. Enduring his brother’s visit. And now his ridiculous reaction when he saw his friend standing so close to Alyssa.
And why had seeing them together bugged him so much? Nick was an accomplished flirt. He hit on every female he found easy on the eye. But just because Nick managed to make Alyssa laugh, it didn’t mean anything. And even if it did mean something, it shouldn’t bother him. The jealousy was new, sophomoric, and damn irrational.
All the more reason to stick to the Paulo’s Plans for Dating Handbook.
“It would be easier if we went to your apartment,” he said.
She stopped, forcing him to halt beside her. “Who said anything about making this easy?” With a light tone, she continued. “Those are my terms. Take it or leave it.”
Clutching her hand, Paulo looked out over the mostly vacant parking lot. Every time he tried to teach Alyssa a lesson, he was the one who paid the price. He blew out a frustrated breath and took in her exquisite face, leaning in close. “Like I have a choice.”
Her eyes sparkled with humor. “You always have a choice, Mr. Domingues.”
Paulo stared at her, enjoying her look of amusement. Her sweet scent grew stronger as he swept the hair from her cheek. Her gaze turned dark at his touch, and his body grew tight. “No,” he murmured. “I don’t think I do.”
After providing a tour of the Samba facilities, Alyssa said goodbye to the couple searching for a reception site and took a seat at the rooftop bar to jot down her notes. The bartender set an iced tea in front of her, and Alyssa nodded her thanks.
The Atlantic sparkled in the distance. Soaking up the warm midday rays, guests relaxed in lounge chairs or took a dip in the cool water of the pool.
Normally she would consider the relaxing view a distraction. But her desk, where memories of Paulo were vivid, was worse. And, after the fabulously successful wedding reception, work was getting busy. Every day her to-do list grew longer. But she was having trouble focusing, thanks to her disturbingly handsome, insanely seductive client.
Last evening, after leaving the track, Paulo had taken her to his house and straight to his bed. Another jaw-dropping, amazing night. Sometimes she’d led and sometimes she’d followed, but she had never hesitated to tell him what she wanted. And the sense of empowerment had been liberating. Paulo had enjoyed it, too.
She’d thought she’d won a victory when he agreed to take her to his home. But when she’d opened her eyes at dawn, a gentle light had lit the bedroom walls filled with racing photographs, baseball memorabilia, and pictures of historic hotels in South Beach. A smile had crept up her face when she’d spied a pair of jeans draped over a chair. It was all so much more personal than a cold, sterile hotel room.
But he hadn’t wanted to bring her there, insisting from the beginning this was a short-term affair. And her smile had died as she was struck by the thought that, suddenly, she wasn’t satisfied.
Their temporary arrangement had allowed her to ignore her doubts and indulge in a little free time with a funny, sexy, drop-dead gorgeous man who made her feel things she hadn’t thought possible. A temporary arrangement which had seemed perfect…until now.
Unnerved, she had crept downstairs, called a taxi, and gone home. After a quick shower and change of clothes she’d arrived at the office early, desperately burying her worries in the familiar routine of work.
Ice shifted in her glass with a clink, and she realized most of it had melted. Frowning, she glanced at her watch. She’d been sitting there for fifteen minutes. Doing nothing.
Okay, girl. You have so got to get your head together.
Pen poised in her hand, she stared at her blank notepad. But every five minutes her mind drifted back to the fact that she was now unhappy with the limits on their relationship. Apprehension whittled away a little more of her courage, and she set her pen aside, giving up on the task.
She picked up her cold glass and pressed it to her cheek, heart tapping loudly. Her mind churned with questions. How was she going to handle this growing desire to have more of him in her life? And would he even be interested in an ex-con as a steady girlfriend?
“I woke up alone again.”
Alyssa jerked and set down her glass, turning in her seat. Paulo was in a T-shirt and cut-offs, every muscle in his arms and legs exposed. Her mouth went as dry as hot sand baking on a beach.
Heart hammering harder, she carefully controlled her expression. “I have a lot I want to accomplish today,” she said evenly.
He leaned against the counter, bringing a deluge of images from their night together. She wrapped her hand around her chilled glass, fighting the warmth he generated, vainly trying to steady her heart. Obviously overexposure to Paulo’s touch was not desensitizing her to his presence.
“You could give a guy a complex,” Paulo said dryly.
Alyssa bit the inside of her cheek, repressing the threat of a nervous giggle. The thought of Paulo with confidence issues was laughable. “Just trying to please my new client,” she said.
His eyes lingered on her face. “You already have,” he murmured.
“Did you enjoy last night?” he asked.
“You know I did.”
“So why is your work so important you’d choose to spend a Saturday morning here rather than in my bed?”
As he scrutinized her face, he seemed to be waiting for her to respond. But her budding doubts about their relationship and his disturbing proximity momentarily left her speechless. And then a glimmer of determination finally appeared in his eyes.
“I was hoping to convince you to share the reason by upgrading my dinner plans from the racetrack to the top of the Ritz.” He paused and cocked his head inquisitively, as if waiting for an answer. “Best restaurant in town… Excellent mojitos…”
A jumble of confused feelings ensued. Their discussion at the grand opening had probably left him believing she was a downtrodden former juvenile delinquent who’d never been given a fair shot. But what would he think if she told him the whole story? The reason why her work was so important?
Blowing out a breath, she eyed him warily. “You’re asking me out on a date?”
Humor lit Paulo’s face. “I’m asking you out on a date.”
Nibbling on a nail, she considered the offer. Essentially, she had two choices. End this affair, or push it forward. At least dinner at a nice restaurant would signal a step toward a more conventional relationship. And if it just so happened she worked up the nerve for a full disclosure—a swell of nausea tumbled in her stomach—well, at least the public location would keep his response tolerable. She let out a small sigh. “Okay.”
“Good. I already had one of the staff make dinner reservations for eight,” Paulo said. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.” His expression was one of a man with a target in sight.
And Alyssa could almost see the bright bull’s-eye glowing on her past.
The limousine was an unexpected surprise, but not Paulo’s lack of a coat and tie. His dark pants and navy dress shirt were nice, complementing Alyssa’s royal blue blouse and skirt. As they exited the elevator onto the top floor of the posh high-rise, the snobby hostess started to protest Paulo’s lack of proper attire. But when they stepped closer, recognition abruptly changed the woman’s attitude.
