by Jill Shalvis
Actually, yes, Nina did get tired of it, of putting on the perfect, good-girl facade, not that she’d ever say so. After all, she’d been raised as the obedient, younger, seen-but-not-heard daughter. At twenty-six, that was a very difficult habit to break, even with the entire family business now firmly on her shoulders. “You have customers waiting.”
“Oh, please. I’m not falling for that weak change of subject. Now talk. About you,” she added pointedly. “And by the way, you know how I’m always bugging you to get a man?”
“They do not grow on trees. It is just not that easy for me.”
“It should be. You’re rich, you run a huge company, and you’re beautiful. What wouldn’t a man like?”
Exactly. It was all about money, prestige and looks, never about Nina as a person. She objected to that, and had learned to be alone instead.
She’d even learned to like it.
Mostly.
“Anyway, listen.” Maria lowered her voice. “There’s been a gorgeous guy here two days in a row, looking at you through the window of the shop.”
“Be serious.”
“I am.” Maria dropped her feet and leaned in close. “I’ll even point him out to you. He’s a few tables over as we speak, watching you very carefully.”
“Maria—”
“Shhh. He’s tall, dark and dangerous. Got a brooding edge to him, that one does. No, don’t look! Not yet. Meu Deus, he’s got a body, too, all muscle and hunger.”
Nina found herself reeled in. “What does he look like?”
“He’s wearing dark, unassuming clothes and looks like a man who knows what he wants and how to get it. Ah, and those eyes! Did I tell you about his eyes? They’re spitfire green and full of heat. Now slowly crane your neck and look off to your right. See? Look at him look at you. Magnifíco!” Maria fanned herself wildly. “Isn’t he wicked?”
Wicked didn’t begin to describe him. He was indeed all muscle and hunger and fire and heat, one-hundred percent of it directed right at Nina, who could suddenly scarcely breathe.
He was the man who’d held her gaze prisoner the day before when she’d innocently looked up and caught him watching her through the window. Her heart had thrown itself against her rib cage.
She hadn’t liked it then. She didn’t like it now either, though he had managed the one thing no one else had in days...he’d taken her mind off Terry.
“A man like that...” Maria spoke in a hushed, reverent whisper. “He knows how to satisfy a lover, no?”
Nina tried to tear her gaze away, tried to pull back, but there was something in his startling eyes that once again held her utterly captive. He didn’t blink or look away, and she found she couldn’t, either.
“Americano?” Maria wondered.
If he was indeed American, it was impossible to tell. Not all drop-dead gorgeous men were American. His sun-bleached brown hair and brilliant green eyes could have come from anywhere. His clothes were nondescript, yet emphasized his long, sculpted frame. His face, tanned and rugged and sporting at least a day’s growth of beard, couldn’t be pinpointed to any one nationality.
One thing was certain, she had definitely drawn his interest. Those searing eyes looked right at her. Through her. And though he certainly couldn’t see inside—no one could—she felt as if he could read her thoughts.
They hadn’t met, so he wasn’t interested in her intellect, wit or personality. It couldn’t be her exciting reputation either, since, unlike her sister, she didn’t have one.
But men—specifically fortune hunters—didn’t much care about Nina’s looks or personality, and if this man was indeed a fortune hunter, he wouldn’t be the first. She’d deal with him. She was in just the mood to do it. “I need to go.”
“But your lunch.”
“Bag it for me?”
“Nina—”
“Please?”
Maria tilted her head in the man’s direction. “I think he wants to talk to you.”
“I am not interested.” To prove it, she wrenched her gaze from his, grabbed her purse and started across the street.
Not interested.
A lie, of course. She was interested, desperately so. Interested in learning what she’d missed in life by hiding away, by letting work take over, by letting family loyalty keep her silent.
The familiar spurt of bitterness went through her. After an overprotective childhood, not to mention growing up in the shadow of her sister’s outrageous stunts, she’d purposely interacted with very few people, and certainly few strangers.
Much as she’d like to change things and start...well, living, she wasn’t sure how to do that. And anyway, it didn’t matter. Certainly the stranger, gorgeous as sin and likely double the trouble, had forgotten her already. She was positive of it.
So positive she didn’t look back.
Though she wanted to.
* * *
THE REST OF the day flew by as she plowed through her business chores so she could get to her own private pride and joy—creating jewelry from her own designs.
It was her life, her heart, and once at her worktable, away from all the dreaded paperwork, she let her mind flow and empty, and she did what she did best—design original jewelry to go with the gems All That Glitters mined, purchased and traded all over the globe.
It was a quiet job, and one she did alone, which only perpetuated her reserved image. But she loved it more than anything, and wished she had more time for it these days.
Terry, I miss you, so much.
But what was done was done, and Nina had dealt with her grief. She’d dealt with the business. She’d truly moved on.
It just seemed her heart hadn’t quite gotten the message yet. Determined to lighten her mood, if only for a little while, she adjusted her light and reached for her latest drawing, a bracelet of inlaid gold with emeralds. It would match the Coração de Amante she’d made for Terry several years ago. Already Nina knew she couldn’t let this new piece go to sale. She’d dip into her own savings to buy it for herself.
She began by making a bezel, a gold sheet to hold the gems. For the next few hours she worked annealed gold around the stones, measuring, cutting and soldering with gold hard solder. By the time she stood up and stretched, it was long after dark, and the building was empty except for security.
She’d forgotten, if only for a while, her unbearable sadness.
Yes, tonight she’d sleep dream-free.
She was halfway across the back parking lot, heading toward her car, planning which book she’d take to bed with her to read until sleepiness over-came her, when she heard a footstep. A shadow fell over her.
Heart leaping, she whirled around.
And faced him. Her perfect stranger.
For one moment she had the ridiculous thought that he’d sought her out to ask her for a date.
How absurd. No one wanted her simply for herself. No one even knew the real her.
As she debated whether to stop or run, he pulled a photo from his pocket and held it up. Comparing her to it, he glanced back and forth for a moment, then frowned before taking a step closer.
“Who are you?” he asked.
It should have been her question to him.
“Como você se chama? What’s your name?” he tried in both Portuguese and English, still frowning.
If he’d been huge and menacing rather than lean and rangy as he was, he couldn’t have been more intimidating. He stood over her, all lithe, tense muscle.
Maria was right, he was magnificent, one of the most magnificent men she’d ever seen, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous.
Saying nothing, she backed up, wondering if she could make it to the building, where she could get help from the security guards within.
“Hey.” He looked annoyed. “You speak Portuguese? English? What?”
“Both,” she said, taking another step back.
“Don’t run from me. I just want to talk to you.”
Uh-huh. Right.
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Another step, though now she became uncertain about turning her back on him, because he looked athletic and fast as lightning, and she doubted her ability to outdistance him.
But if she screamed, would the security guards hear her from here?
“Stop,” he demanded, yet he didn’t reach for her, which she took as a good sign. “Just hold on a second, would ya?”
Nope. If he was going to rape, maim or murder her, he’d have to catch her first, and she didn’t plan on being caught.
“I just want to know who you are,” he said.
She hadn’t lived in Rio all her life, but had been sent to private boarding schools in the United States, England and Switzerland. This man was indeed American, and southern American at that, given his slight drawl.
“Don’t run.” His voice was cool and quiet, but there was definite danger there. “And don’t scream,” he added. “I hate it when people scream. I just want to ask you some questions.”
One more step, she thought, slowly lifting her foot, just...one...more.
“This picture.” He thrust it beneath her nose. “What do you know about this picture?”
Foot in the air, poised for flight, Nina went utterly still. Her breath clogged in her throat. Her heart stopped.
It was her sister.
Meu Deus, he held a picture of Terry in the embrace of some man, and she looked so beautiful, so stunningly alive and happy, Nina’s eyes filled. “Terry,” she whispered.
The man stared at her. “My God, it’s not you.” His gaze was measuring. “It’s close....” Once again he studied the picture, then carefully searched her face. “Really close.” Before she could guess his intention, he reached up and unclipped her hair, tugging it free, ignoring her startled gasp. “But no cigar.” His eyes, those all-seeing eyes, chilled. “What do you know about this woman? What did you call her...Terry? Where can I find her?”
Nina nearly let out a laugh, but it would have been half hysterical, so she put her hand to her mouth and shook her head.
“I need to talk to her.”
For once, the streets were relatively free of the wandering tourists and loud boisterous locals. There was no one to rescue her from this bad dream. “You...cannot,” she said.
“Why?”
“She died a year ago last September.”
His frown deepened, his jaw tight as a drum. “Try again, lady.”
Nina shook off the fear and found her temper. “I do not know who you are, but I want you to leave these premises immediately. There is a guard right inside, and—”
“Don’t call him. I just want some answers. I need to talk to her.”
“No.” Terry was dead.
And she needed to remain so.
Everything depended on her remaining so.
“How long since you’ve seen her?” he pressed.
More than a year now. A lifetime. Nina closed her eyes and remembered the terror in her sister’s face when she realized that she was being watched. Stalked. Then the police had come, arresting her for embezzlement and smuggling gems in cahoots with a known smuggling operation.
It had been a lie, a terrible, vicious lie. Terry had been set up and framed, but the evidence against her had been insurmountable. Planted, of course, though neither Terry nor Nina knew who would have done such a thing.
Nina still didn’t know.
In light of that, while out on bail on charges that would put her in prison for life, Terry had vanished. Then she’d faked her own death, and Nina had grieved as if it had been the real thing, because she knew she’d never get to see Terry again.
“The waitress told me you were Senhorita Nina Monteverde,” the American said. “If that’s true, who’s Terry?”
If this man was looking for her sister, something had gone terribly, terribly wrong, and Nina backed up another step.
“Maybe Terry is...your sister?”
Nina’s eyes widened, she couldn’t help it. He was good.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding, still staring at her. “Your sister. I need to talk to her, Nina.”
Another step.
Then another.
And yet another, all the while her brain frantically racing. Terry, God, Terry please be all right.
Then finally she had enough space between her and the American. “Security!” she shouted. “Help! Security!”
Behind her the doors opened, and she whirled toward them, never so grateful for the wealth and status her family name afforded as two uniformed men rushed toward her. “Escort this man off the premises!” she cried, turning back to point out the American, as if he needed pointing out.
But the security men skidded to a halt, bafflement crossing their faces. Nina didn’t understand, until she realized she pointed at nothing and no one.
Her stranger had vanished.
CHAPTER TWO
RICK WASN’T a patient man. One would think that worked against him in his line of work, but he’d found frustration and intimidation good motivators.
Only he’d blown it just now, letting Nina Monteverde stun him stupid with just one blink of those huge, wide, drown-in-me chocolate brown eyes.
What was that about?
He’d interviewed plenty of women in his day, and while it was true few could resist his own dubious charms, it had happened on occasion. But he’d still always gotten what he wanted.
Not tonight.
Tonight he’d been the one blindsided, and for his trouble all he’d gotten was a lie.
No way could the woman in the picture have been dead a year and a half. She’d given birth only seven months ago, then dumped the baby girl on what she thought was Mitch Barnes’s doorstep.
Rick sat on his motorcycle contemplating his next move. He pulled out his cell phone, and without calculating the difference in the time zone, dialed Mitch’s home.
“Barnes here.”
“Does the name Monteverde mean anything to you?” Rick asked.
“No, why?”
“The woman in the picture, the one you’re looking for, her name is Terry Monteverde.”
“Terry.” Mitch’s voice, so professional and alert in his greeting, went rough with memories. “Terry Monteverde.”
“Nina, her sister, claims she died last fall.”
“That’s a lie. I had a paternity test. Hope is mine. The only woman I was with at the right time was the woman in the picture.”
“Yeah, Nina was lying. But I think she was protecting Terry, for whatever reason.” Rick couldn’t be sure why he thought so, he didn’t know Nina Monteverde from Eve, but his instincts had never failed him. At least not in four years. “I’m going to follow her home and see what else I can get.”
Across the miles and phone lines, Mitch swore softly. In the background, a baby was crying. “I know she’s in some sort of trouble, I can feel it. It’s the only reason she’d abandon her baby.” He drew a deep breath. “She has to be found, she needs help.”
“I’ll find her.” Rick could still see the parking lot of All That Glitters. Two armed guards escorted Nina to her car, where she looked around, craning her neck left and right.
Looking for him, Rick knew as she got in and started the car. “I’ll get back to you,” he said to Mitch, and clicked off, shoving the phone in his pocket. When she’d pulled away and could no longer hear him, he roared his bike to life.
Nina would lead him to Terry, he was certain of it, so certain he hurried to catch up, following Ms. Monteverde home.
Anything to keep his mind off the sound of Mitch’s voice. That gruff, terrorized worry brought Rick far too close to the time when he could feel such things, too. To a time when he could still be disappointed by the people and circumstances in his life.
When he could still get hurt.
He’d done some hurting of his own, which would haunt him to his dying day.
He hadn’t always been a bounty hunter. Once upon a time he’d grown up under the eye of his sweet, lovely mother, a woman who’d
been deserted by his father while in labor with Rick. Poorer than dirt and alone in the world together, they’d done fine. Better than fine, actually. His mother had seen to it.
She’d gotten him through childhood before dying of breast cancer, but by then he had the basics down, her morals and love of life.
Everything was an adventure back then, wildly dangerous, and right up Rick’s alley. He’d been untouchable in those days, and had thrived on it.
Until he’d met Mary Jo Anderson, the second sweet, lovely woman in his life, a witness he was charged to protect until she could testify in a murder case. With her help, they could bring down a very wanted man. If all went well, it was a case that would make everyone’s career.
Rick was in his element. Until he looked into Mary Jo’s wide, innocent eyes, that is.
Up to that point, he’d managed to go his entire life without sharing his heart. He’d shared his body plenty, but never anything else, so no one could have been more surprised when he fell for Mary Jo. It had softened him, and made him stupid. Careless.
But nothing could happen to her, not with Rick looking out for her, right? Oh yeah, he’d been a cocky son of a bitch.
And Mary Jo had been killed.
His fault. He hadn’t been able to stop her murder, or protect her, though he’d sworn to both his country and Mary Jo to do exactly that.
Things had gone straight to hell in a handbasket after that. Destroyed, Rick had walked away from all he’d ever known, and spent months aimlessly wandering the globe, looking for trouble and often finding it. He’d finally ended up in Rio. Something about the sinful, wild, pagan city appealed to his troubled soul, and he’d been here ever since.
It had been four years, and thankfully he’d managed to bury those memories for good. Only in the occasional dream was he forced to relive them, and he’d awaken drenched in sweat and tears and remind himself that having no emotions and no heart was the only way to live.
It worked for him, allowed him to be the best bounty hunter there was, because without feelings, no one could touch him. He liked that.
Nina led him out of the ritzy business district and into the ritzy residential district, but as Rick stayed back far enough to remain anonymous, he realized something.
