by Olivia Gates
Now, as anger ebbed, premeditation, which had seen him through his meteoric rise, as she’d called it, which had made him certain of his abilities and dead set on his goals, settled in.
His goals… Right now he could only see one. Jewel. Working beside him, dueling with him, walking away from him, shuddering in his arms, on the floor, against the door…
Fire flooded his veins again. So even the Amazon River wasn’t enough to douse it.
But he didn’t want it doused. Now the past had been put in perspective, only one thing mattered. He still wanted her. Badly.
And she wanted him, too. No doubt about it. But this time the last thing he wanted was ever-afters. They may still be legally married, but all he wanted was an all-out affair, to purge the accumulated hunger. Once it had been, he’d be free at last.
The boat was now a tiny twinkle in the distance. He swept around, started the vigorous swim back, smiling all the way.
CHAPTER SIX
“GIVEN up on trying to sleep, minha esposa?”
The mocking words hit Jewel in the spine as she hastily retreated from the dining hall’s entrance.
She hadn’t made a sound. And he’d been facing away from the door. Talk about eyes in the back of his head. But just how had he known it had been her? And what was he doing here at this hour? She’d thought she’d be the only one here at 4:00 a.m.
Well, she wasn’t and she should walk back in and get her breakfast. She had a long day ahead of her and the sooner she was done the better. She turned, re-entered the hall, headed for the open-plan kitchen. There were no meals served at this hour. She’d make her own.
She circled as far away from him as possible, making every effort to keep her eyes off him. She still felt him rising from his chair, following her. And not because he made any sound.
“Having trouble sleeping, too?” She took her cue from him, asking the nonchalant question.
“With you around?” Lazy yet heated teasing permeated his voice. “Do you even need to ask? But you really have to do something about your attitude, Jóia. It won’t inspire team cooperation if you leave every room I’m in.”
She opened the refrigerator. “Have you had breakfast?”
A moment of silence stretched in answer. From the way her senses were going haywire, she could tell he was now no more than a foot away. She kept her eyes on her chore.
He finally drawled, “At four a.m.? Hardly. Are you offering me some? That would be a first.”
And he was right about that. During their five-month marriage, she’d never fed him anything. Besides the dazed state in which she’d spent those months, she hadn’t even mastered boiling water. He’d cooked when he hadn’t brought takeaway coming home from work. He’d been handy with fast and simple yet delicious meals.
“And it would be a last, so enjoy it while you can,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You like omelets?”
“Doesn’t everybody? And why, pray tell, would this unprecedented occasion be an unrepeatable one?”
She placed the pan on the stove, got out a bowl to mix her ingredients. “Simple. As I already told you, I’m leaving. I doubt I’ll see you again.”
“Ah, that again. Another thing you really have to work on—this new habit of repeating yourself, amor.” His hands landed on her shoulder. When had he moved? Good thing she’d already put the eggs down. “Give me one good reason why you should leave.”
She shook her shoulders, and his hands dropped. “You.”
His hands were back on her instantly, turning her to face him. And he was naked!
Breathe. He wasn’t naked. Only down his wide-open shirt to his very, very low-hanging jeans waistband.
She remembered his every muscle and sinew. This was way more. He must have found time to upgrade his body among his preoccupations. Those field missions must have been rigorous, too. Her hands itched, her mouth watered. Oh, great. She was dying to grab at him, was drooling over him now.
She had to get out of here fast.
He waited for her stunned eyes to rise to his again then gave a mind-messing whisper. “Nice to know I’m a good reason.”
“The best,” she rasped.
Something primal rumbled in his gut as he closed the space between them, pressing her to the kitchen counter. “Jewel…”
Her hands flattened on each satin-steel pectoralis, virtually sizzled on contact. “Roque, this stopped being funny a while ago.”
He covered her hands with his. “You mean it was funny to start with? That wasn’t my impression.”
“If it wasn’t funny, then you gave a very good simulation of enjoying yourself at my expense.”
“I’d rather enjoy myself with you, Jóia.”
She snatched her tingling hands away, pushed out of his grip. “Drop this seduction act. You’ve graciously explained why you’re here. And you’ve already achieved your purpose. You’ve driven the wannabe reality show starlet away.”
“If this isn’t what you had planned, stay and prove it.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you and I’m not staying where my intentions are maligned and my authority is ridiculed. So—a full year’s work is down the drain and I’m out of here to start something else, somewhere else from scratch. Your mission is accomplished. What more do you want?”
“Certainly not money or a Green Card.”
“OK, be cryptic.” He chuckled and reached for her again. She dodged him, her heart tottering inside her chest. “But do it sitting down or there won’t be any omelets.”
He caught her back again, growled in her nape, “Damn food. I want you. That’s exactly what I want. All of you.”
It wasn’t only an admission of need but a declaration of intent, a bolt of lightning emptying her lungs, her mind. She choked, “You want a woman you think so unethical, so inhumane she’d exploit others’ suffering to gain fame and fortune?”
He turned her around, his lips and words on her neck, branding her. “When was I ever able to care about the drawbacks where you’re concerned? I’d disregard any qualm, risk any consequence, pay any price, to have you.”
Each rasp and meaning speared through her heart, sank into her breasts and loins. She throbbed all over with an escalating ache. She pushed at him. “How flattering. Excuse me if I don’t want a man who wants me when he thinks the worst of me.”
“You wanted me when you evidently thought the worst of me. You wanted me with every breath for five months.” She lurched at his reminder, its brutal truth, at the memory of the clawing, perpetual need that had been forced into dormancy in the past years and had now been resurrected, as urgent, as tormenting. More. His hands ran up her back, infusing her with tension. “You want me again now.”
It was pointless to deny it. She leaned back in the circle of his arms and gasped, “I want to jump out of a plane without a parachute, too. You won’t see me succumbing to that desire either.”
He rubbed against her with a satisfied chuckle, let her feel the hard promise of endless pleasure. “I’m that dangerous?”
“More.” There was no chance she’d jump out of a plane. There was every chance she would succumb in his arms. And she wouldn’t survive another such episode of sheer lunacy.
She pushed away again and suddenly he let her go. She stumbled around, picked up the knife, put it down again. The way she was trembling she’d slice her fingers and not the onion. She turned to the less dangerous side of omelet-making, whipping eggs, adding herbs and spices. Just as she thought they’d have to settle for a plain omelet, he came up behind her, snaked his arms around her waist—and picked up the knife and cutting board.
She swayed back to the fridge, got out butter, put it in the pan to melt, all the time snatching sideway glances at his hands as he proceeded to chop. Rapid, precise, practiced, producing heaps of even cubes and slices of onions, tomatoes and mushrooms. It figured. Those were the surgeon’s hands that had made him rich and famous, that had once made her—
Stop! Don’
t go there now. Or ever.
He handed her the heaped board, then leaned back on the counter to watch her. Her hands trembled as she slid the onion and tomato in the pan first, and hot butter splashed her.
A smothered gasp tore out of her as her hands snapped up to shield her face. Roque jumped at her, dragged her away to the sink, feverish eyes roving her for burn marks.
“It’s nothing,” she gasped. “A tiny splatter hit my neck.”
Urgent hands pushed her hair back, tipped her chin and examined her neck. Then his tension drained. He must have found nothing alarming. He still wet his hand and wiped cool water on the sting, over and over. Then he bent, opened his mouth on it and licked, gentle, insistent. The sting disappeared, to be replaced by a blistering torrent engulfing her whole body.
“Better?” The murmur spread on his soothing tongue, vibrated in her flesh. It couldn’t be worse! All she could do was nod.
In silence, she finished making the omelet while he readied plates and toast. Then he took the pan from her, filled their plates, picked them up and gestured for her to lead the way to a table.
Stiff footsteps took her to the nearest table. He put down the plates and hurried to pull a chair back for her. After seating her, he pulled a chair as near as possible to her and sat down.
He sniffed the aroma rising from his plate. “Divino.” He sampled a fork and groaned, “Delicioso.” Then he attacked the rest with evident enjoyment.
Pleasure coursed through her at his praise. So she hankered for his approval now? Was there no end to her folly?
For God’s sake, just eat.
To her surprise, she was starving and she demolished her plate just moments after he had his.
He gave a satisfied sigh as he leaned back and patted his flat, muscled abdomen. “That was magnificent, amor.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “It was just an omelet.”
He gave her a complacent glance. “There is no such thing as just anything. In the wrong hands anything can be a disaster. In the right ones everything can become a masterpiece.”
Her heat shot off the scale. “Quit flattering me, Roque.”
“I never flatter, you or anyone else. With me you get the truth and nothing but the truth.”
She harumphed. “The truth according to you, of course.”
“The truth is mostly point of view, amor, and I’m never rigid about mine. But I never say what I don’t mean, whether it’s praise or criticism. I think since yesterday I already proved that I’m not averse to saying what I think to your face, no matter how unfavorable. Though in such conditions I’m always open to being proved wrong. As for favorable things, I meant—and mean—every word. Every last one.”
Oh. “Well, you did half the work.”
He gave a dismissive pout. “I just chopped raw ingredients. I didn’t concoct that elusive seasoning, didn’t cook each ingredient to the exact degree to make the result perfect.” Gentle fingers brushed her feverish cheek. “So you’ve been hiding your culinary talents from me.”
“I picked them up under duress…” She swallowed, forced her voice to steady. “My first field mission was long and I was in danger of starving with our cook’s version of food napalm.”
He laughed, a deep melody that spread things she’d never had with him inside her. Ease. Fun. Companionship. That was weirder than anything that had gone on before.
His hand cupped her face, his smile pouring right into her heart. “Survival is a great teacher. In your case, a superlative one. I can’t wait to sample a more complex dish from those lovely, capable hands. I’ll do all the chopping, of course.”
Images blossomed in her imagination. Of them sharing all the things they’d never shared before. Banter, relaxation and cheerful meal preparation, feeding each other bits and pieces, tasting their flavor and each other’s reality and passion in playful kisses that would soon catch fire and turn desperate.
She thought she saw her own steaming, longing thoughts reflected in his eyes as they drained of mirth.
Suddenly he drawled, his voice nothing like the indulgent minute before, harsh, final, “I can make you stay.”
Before outraged signals traveled from her brain to her hand to snatch his away, he removed it and added, “But I won’t.”
Her fingers curled on her plate’s rim. “Wow, big of you. Just out of curiosity, how has that ego of yours told you that you have any control over my decisions and actions?”
He gave her a long considering look. “Fácil. You’ll want another job with GAO in Brazil. Your modus operandi shows you’re not interested in missions anywhere else. But if you leave, you won’t get a job with GAO here again.”
Fury spilled over, coursed through her like rivers of lava. “I’ll prove to GAO that what you accused me of is untrue!”
He was all mock benign interest. “It is?”
She glowered at him for a full minute, rants and denials crashing in her head. Then suddenly a floodlight burst on in there. “Think about it, genius. If I were producing a reality show here, don’t you think Qircamo’s emergency would have been an explosive intro to the alleged pilot I’m supposedly putting together? Don’t you think the film crew and my reality-show specialized director would have been the first people I had with me there? How do you explain that they weren’t?”
“I would have stopped you. I would have kicked out any cameraman who tried to capitalize on an emergency I was handling, infringing my patient’s privacy!”
“But you didn’t need to, because I didn’t call them. They signed a contract with me, setting the parameters of what they’d be allowed to film, and that they would film no one until we explained what we were doing and got full consent!”
“They signed a contract? With you? Not with GAO?”
“With me as GAO’s representative. Before you came with your allegations, GAO was all for it. And, no, I’m not going to show it to you. You’d only scoff at a contract signed between ‘partners in crime', wouldn’t you?”
It was his turn to stare, that dark coppery tinge, which she’d only seen yesterday before he’d said he was sorry, and in the past during heights of arousal and moments of explosive release, imbuing his bronzed features.
At length, he dropped his gaze, exhaled. “Qircamo’s emergency was premium drama. And the fact that you didn’t capitalize on it—well, I told you I’m open to changing my mind. According to new evidence, I admit I may have been wrong.”
“You are wrong. But you are here, and after this breakfast, I am gone. I hope you can really handle this expedition and that you’ll let the film crew stay and do what they’ve gone through a lot of effort and expense to do. You may not believe it but they are good people bent on delivering a service in their own field just as we are trying to do in ours. Or shall we say only you are, since according to you I’mhere for contemptible reasons?”
He was silent for a long, long moment, his coppery color deepening. Then he raised his opal eyes. They now fired with every color there was and too many emotions to fathom.
Then he spoke and his voice, also fathomless, resonated its intensity in her every cell. “You make a watertight case for yourself. And I admit I built my conclusions about your intentions here on circumstantial evidence, interpreting every shred according to who you were in the past. Clearly, you’re a different person now. So nothing I rationalized applies. As I said, I don’t cling to my mistakes. I prefer the truth to my opinion of it, and it seems I owe you a big apology. I hope you’ll accept it. And stay.”
She felt as if she was drowning, almost wailed, “I can’t.”
His eyes suddenly narrowed, a ruthless gleam sparking in their depths. “I already told you that if you leave, you won’t get another assignment with GAO. Not here.”
“But—but you said…”
“I said I believe you, and I do. It has nothing to do with my earlier suspicions and it won’t be GAO refusing you a new assignment. I want you to stay and I control eighty percent of GAO’s op
erations in Brazil and have a big say in the remaining twenty percent.”
She couldn’t believe she was hearing this!
An indignant cry tore out of her. “This is coercion!”
His shrug was pragmatism incarnate. “Just a reality check. But I said I won’t force you to stay. You’ll stay of your own volition.”
“You think I’ll stay after that?”
“You will if you’re a professional. As you so adamantly told me yesterday, you’re the one who masterminded this expedition. All the work you intended will still happen, the cause is still here and if you leave your team will suffer without their leader. All that’s changed is that you have me and far more support and resources than you dreamed of. If you don’t take this personally, you should be very glad I’m here.”
“But you’re making it personal!”
“It is personal. It doesn’t get any more personal than marriage, amor.”
“We don’t have a marriage, we have a marriage certificate. And you’re not the epitome of professionalism if you let your desire to harass me endanger a mission of this importance.”
His eyebrows rose in mock indignation. “I have no desire to harass you. I have every desire to devour you, though.”
“And you still think we can work together like this?”
He leaned back, linked his hands behind his head, giving her a spectacular show of rippling muscles. “We did yesterday.”
He did have a point. Yesterday had been a success by all professional measures. She even had to admit his technique had taught her a thing or two, too. And she had been looking forward to every minute of this expedition. So far it had turned out to be, while disturbing as hell, far more exciting and rewarding than anything she’d ever done before. Thanks to him.
Struggling for justifications to refuse to stay, her reasons dispersing with each moment, she opened her mouth with something that hadn’t formed in her mind yet when he suddenly sat up in his chair, his head turned away, listening. Then she heard it, too. Calls. Merry ones this time.
