LusitanianStud

by Francesca St. Claire

  “I’m not quite sure…although I’m enjoying learning about my ancestors and how they lived…who they loved.” I smiled self-consciously. “I love romance.”

  Eduarda’s laugh was instant and heartfelt. “You must tell me all about your findings sometime, but today I want to learn all about you.” She handed me my tea before settling back with her own cup. “I understand you are a model.”

  The afternoon flew by in friendly conversation. Relaxed and pleasantly entertained, I was, however, thrown into a swirl of excitement and anxiety when Eduarda casually commented on her son’s impending visit.

  After a few moments of absolute nervous panic I was able to compose myself and ask in a light casual tone that I hoped showed only a polite neighborly interest in the matter, “Is he staying long?”

  * * * * *

  Diogo, I thought for the hundredth time since I’d left Eduarda’s company. What was I going to do about him? What could I do to avoid meeting him when apparently he was moving back for good?

  Following Eduarda’s announcement of her son’s return and of his intention to assume control of the family business now that his father was getting ready to retire, I was so agitated I couldn’t think straight. As soon as I had seen an opportunity to take leave I’d bid Eduarda Vilas-Boas farewell and taken off, my mind in an exciting, dizzy whirl.

  The following day—after a long and sleepless night—I went for my daily hike earlier than usual and longer than my normal two-hour circuit. Somewhere along the way I concluded my worries were probably unfounded. A busy, married man such as Diogo did not have much idle time, and the chance of us meeting during my brief stay in Portugal were slim to none.

  I returned home, soothed by this thought, though a little disappointed.

  Just as I finished lunch and was looking forward to settling down with a book, the doorbell rang. Knowing Lucia to be busy in the kitchen, I went to answer the door.

  Diogo!

  I gaped before I could help myself.

  “Hello, Sarah. Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” I said when my mouth finally snapped shut.

  I opened the door wider to allow him in. “Let’s go to the back where it’s cooler,” I managed to say, and without waiting for his agreement I took the lead, knowing he’d be looking at my butt clad in a pair of khaki shorts, and hoped not to defraud his earlier memories of that part of my anatomy.

  Stupid thought! This would not help matters at all.

  “Sit there.” I pointed to the sofa and I sat on a big armchair opposite. I didn’t want to find myself sitting next to him. The proximity would be far too unsettling.

  Speculating on the reason for his visit on his first day back in town, I decided he was probably only being neighborly and I’d have to be grown-up about it and let bygones be bygones.

  I could handle him.

  “So, Sarah, I’m dying to know, what have you been up to since you went away? It’s been a long time.”

  “It has, hasn’t it? Well, let’s see. I finished college… Oh, it all seems a lifetime away, though,” I said dismissively.

  He couldn’t expect me to behave as if seven years hadn’t gone by since our last meeting. And I couldn’t pretend my heart hadn’t been broken, nor could I act as if we were long-lost friends. There was too much passion in me to be socially correct.

  “Why are you here?” I asked, barely keeping curiosity and resentment out of my tone of voice.

  He smiled. It wasn’t a wide smile, more the slight lifting of the sides of his mouth. My breathing quickened. His smile was just as sexy as I remembered it.

  “I thought about you, you know. A lot. Actually, nonstop those first months.”

  A shudder ran through me at this revelation. My hands tightened into fists. I had to be strong. This was another woman’s husband. This was the same man who’d ignored me for seven years.

  My first love. My only love…

  Such thoughts weren’t helping at all. I was being stupid.

  “So tell me, what brought a famous model to a little town like this for an entire summer?” he asked, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa, his chest expanding as he did. I tried my best not to stare but boy, did he have a chest on him.

  I allowed my pulse to settle down a bit before I answered. “The desire to close a chapter in my life.”

  “Oh?” His gaze locked with mine. “And what chapter is that?” he asked, the laser intensity of his brown gaze jolting me into giving up the truth.

  “I want to stop being a model and do something with my art degree.”

  My answer surprised me. Although I’d played with the idea before, I had not seriously considered abandoning modeling, but now that I’d said it out loud it suddenly became real.

  “That’s fantastic! You always wanted to become a full-time sculptor.”

  His words warmed my heart. He remembered… I softened, and it would have been so easy to slip back into the past had an image of an Arab princess not jolted me into reality.

  “Why are you here?”

  He smiled. “I wanted to see you.”

  Oh this wasn’t fair. He had no right to be tugging at my heartstrings with affirmations such as this. He had a wife, for Christ’s sake, what did he want from me?

  “Does your wife know you’re here?”

  I watched his residual smile turn into a frown, his thick black lashes lowering before he looked up. “Wife?”

  Oh please! Did he seriously think I wouldn’t find out? That my family wouldn’t make it their business to ensure I knew of his engagement? I didn’t think he was that naïve. So there was only one answer for his deceit…he wished to pick up where he’d left off. I hadn’t thought of him as a cheat. Then again, how well did I know him? Obviously not at all. Well, he was in for a surprise. I was no longer the innocent, gullible girl of before, ready to believe every word he said—including promises of undying love.

  “Let me refresh your memory, for it seems you’re having temporary amnesia,” I said rather abruptly. “Princess Soraya. Does that ring a bell?”

  He stiffened.

  Heat whooshed up my neck and cheeks and I silently cursed my propensity to blush—such a telltale barometer of my feelings—when he looked sternly at me. And why was that? It made no sense.

  “I didn’t know you were such a fan of gossip,” he mocked.

  What? Wasn’t it true? What was he saying? Was he no longer married? Already divorced? Was that why he was back for good? I hadn’t heard, but who would have told me the news now that my grandmother was dead?

  Diogo was staring at me, his face showing no expression. Suddenly he stood up. Had I touched a sore spot? I stood up with him. “I’m not a gossip and you’ve still not answered my question,” I said, trying very hard to remain calm regardless of his unfair accusation.

  “I have no wife.”

  My heart skittered from the unwarranted joy his statement conveyed to me, and in a spontaneous show of sympathy for his loss, I lifted my hand to his face. “I’m sorry.”

  What am I doing? Straight away I regretted my gesture, but when I started to withdraw my hand, his piercing eyes and his firm hand over mine prevented it. Arousal and embarrassment fought for domination. I held my breath. My heart seemed to pause when his gaze dropped to my lips and then back to my eyes.

  Oh God!

  “I must kiss you, Sarah,” he said, cupping the back of my neck. I stared at him as if caught in a spell. My lips parted, releasing a rush of breath. “Do you want me to?”

  I could have said no. I could have pulled away.

  He would have let me. Maybe.

  Except I didn’t say no or pull away, so he lowered his head and his lips touched mine.

  Oh God! The magic was back.

  He rubbed his mouth over mine and I wound my arms around him, sinking into him. His tongue slid past my lips and an onslaught of wild kisses began. I had not expected my body to respond to his so quickly, though it had always been that way with Dio
go—instant combustion the moment he touched me. His hand touched the side of my breast and my heart faltered. I’d missed his touch so badly. Oh how I wanted to be loved by him. Feel one more time all those amazing, joyful sensations of being with the only man in the world who truly mattered. But doubt and mistrust spoke louder.

  I slapped a hand on his chest, surprising us both. “Diogo, stop! This is not a good idea.”

  “Why not?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “Because I did this before and it was horrible when you moved on,” I admitted, exposing myself to his contempt—or worse, his pity. “When you forgot all about me…”

  Instantly his hand slid up and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes—dark, angry eyes steadfast on mine. “Is that what you thought?”

  I didn’t answer—I couldn’t—words would not rise beyond the lump in my throat. So I just stared back, letting him reach his own conclusion. He wouldn’t have it.

  “Answer me!” he insisted, tightening his hold on me.

  “Yes.”

  He dropped his hand, withdrawing from me, distancing himself in body and I expected also in soul, and for a moment I thought he was going to walk out without saying another word. Not even a goodbye. And the pain of separation that I believed long since forgotten resurged with a vengeance. How I wished for his denial. How I still craved his love. But as the silence stretched, hope began to fade.

  “You’re wrong,” he said.

  I closed my eyes at the strong tug. My pulse rate zoomed and my throat tightened, making it hard to breathe. Was I hearing things? Had he really denied my long-surmised belief he’d forgotten me the minute I was out of his sight? Was it possible? Doubt spoke louder. How was I wrong? How? Had he not ignored me for the past seven years? Had he not moved on to a new girlfriend, fiancée, wife—Enough!

  “Really? Everything points to the contrary,” I said, letting the sarcasm fortify my words.

  His jaw clenched slightly yet his expression remained the same. Silence followed, swelling between us, creating an unbearable tension inside me. “I see,” he finally said, his eyes boring into mine, then with a smooth, swift movement of his hand, he slipped it under my hair, behind my neck, and drew my mouth to his.

  Again I should have protested, I should have stopped him, I should have done something. I couldn’t. I didn’t. And the next moment Diogo’s firm lips were parting mine, his arm tight around me, my breasts cleaving to his hard chest. It was crazy, yet all I could do was allow his probing tongue to wander while I tried to restrain the warm sensations coursing through my body. When he finally withdrew his mouth I pulled out of his arms, breathless, my mouth tingling with excitement.

  “When you’re ready to talk you know where to find me,” he said, walking out, leaving me in a state of confusion and self-doubt, not to mention extremely aroused.

  Damn him!

  I lay in bed later that night aching for Diogo Vilas-Boas. I didn’t fall asleep until well after two and then it was to dream of him making love to me. I dreamed he took me repeatedly, making me cry out with each possession. The dream went on for hours. Then, when I was totally spent, he held me in his arms and told me he’d never stopped loving me.

  Chapter Three

  Another invitation from Diogo’s mother arrived three days after my meeting with her son. I considered refusing it. Guessing I might say no, Eduarda had scribbled a postscript informing me her son had gone to Lisbon on business and that she would be all alone.

  I arrived at her door as anxious and curious as I’d been at our first meeting a few days before. Only this time I was sure Eduarda was privy to her son’s prior involvement with me.

  “Sarah!” she said with a warm smile and open arms, making me feel very welcome. “I’m so glad you’re here. I must confess I wasn’t sure if you would accept my invitation,” she admitted, sitting down.

  Why was she telling me this? Why did she care one way or another? “Why is that?” I asked cautiously.

  Her direct gaze—so like Diogo’s—locked with mine. “I know your meeting with Diogo didn’t go well.”

  “Is that what he said?” I asked a bit defensively, expecting to have to justify my actions.

  She shook her head. “No, no, Diogo hasn’t said a word to me,” she rushed to explain. “He wouldn’t, he’s a very private person. I know my son well and I can tell when things are not right with him, even when he tries very hard to hide it from me.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t.” I flushed, embarrassed by Eduarda’s blunt refutation, standing silent as she said her piece. “You don’t believe me and you resent me for trying to interfere, but you see, I think you’ve both pined long enough, and it’s time you had a serious conversation with each other and cleared all the misunderstandings of the past.”

  Pined for each other? That was the overstatement of the year, on his part, that is. Misunderstandings? What was there to miss? “He hasn’t pined for me.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “No? I beg to disagree.”

  That wasn’t possible. It would mean Diogo cared, had cared… Butterfly wings flared hope in my heart. “If that was true why didn’t he get in touch with me all these years?”

  “That’s a very good question, though it should only be answered by Diogo.”

  * * * * *

  I couldn’t get Eduarda’s words out of my head. Had Diogo seriously pined for me? He couldn’t have. Not really. Not truthfully. After all, had he not married someone else? And even if the marriage hadn’t lasted he’d loved her well enough to propose.

  Deep in thought, I wandered along the paths around town slowly and heedless of the direction I was taking until the sound of water entered my busy mind. I looked around. It seemed like yesterday. The place hadn’t changed. Laughter, sighs, whispers and promises of undying love… Happy memories of a brief spell in the life of a young woman in love resonated through my head as I stood in the exact same spot where I’d given away my heart for the first and only time.

  “I wondered if I’d find you here.”

  I spun around to face the subject of my thoughts leaning against a tree, his hands deep in his pockets, his long legs crossed at the ankles and a lovely smile on his face. A tumult of emotions roared through me, putting knots in my stomach, squeezing my heart, shattering my mind. It wasn’t fair that one man should be so attractive and his effect on me so powerful.

  After a moment of stony silence I found my voice again, to say the first thing that came to mind, challenge lacing the tone of my voice. “What are you doing here?”

  Diogo raised a dark eyebrow. I blushed and averted my eyes from the challenge in his. “Same as you, I expect.”

  “I came here for a swim after a long walk in this heat.” Brave words for a mind stunned by his sudden presence.

  “Then you won’t mind if I join you,” he said, holding his hand out to me. Amusement flickered in his eyes. “I’m pretty hot myself.”

  Hot was just one of his attributes. Gorgeous, proud, self-assured, just to name a few, were also true. What was I to do? Leave and let him think his presence still affected me, or swim with him for old times’ sake and risk the consequences of letting him into my heart one more time?

  “I don’t have a bathing suit,” I said, ignoring his extended hand.

  He dropped his arm. “And why is that a problem?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  He chuckled. “Oh come on, I’ve seen you naked before…”

  When my stupid blush gave me away he rolled his eyes. “I won’t look…I promise.” Then he took my breath away when he tilted his head and smiled.

  I turned my back and tugged my top over my head as I walked to the water. Espadrilles kicked off, belt unbuckled and zipper pulled down, I glanced over my shoulder. “You’re looking,” I accused him.

  “So I am,” he said, his eyes dark and mirthful.

  Oh what the hell, it’s not as if I was prudish about showing my body—unthinkable
in my profession. I shrugged and shoved down my shorts along with my underwear, then leapt into the refreshing water.

  I had just emerged when Diogo dived in, barely breaking the surface. He came up, shaking his black hair, now shorter than before, though still wavy and dark, his olive skin shining under myriad water drops.

  He’s still the most beautiful man I know!

  I wanted to touch him so badly. I swam away instead, keeping as much physical distance from him as possible.

  As the years had passed I’d convinced myself my memory played tricks on me, because Diogo could not possibly have been as good looking as I remembered. He was. Even more now his sharp features had softened, matured.

  Get a grip! I shook my head, full of my own foolish thoughts and feelings his unheralded appearance had stirred in me—proof enough I was still vulnerable despite all the years gone by. The fault lay with me, finding him so temptingly attractive.

  “Sarah?”

  I twirled around. Seeing him so close, I panicked and snapped, “What?”

  He leaned down so his breath caressed my face when he spoke. “Have you missed me?”

  “I…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t know how to respond to his comments, though my body did—a full-blown shudder rippled down my spine. How I wished I could stop responding to him so forcefully. “What do you care?”

  In spite of my unfriendly words he answered, unperturbed, “A great deal more than you think.”

  This wasn’t fair. He had no right to stir all kinds of hopes and wishes long since buried inside me. “Oh yeah? What do you know about what I think?”

  He moved closer still, his body blocking my view, arousing every nerve ending in me. My hand shot out, stopping him from getting closer. The electric bolt triggered by the contact of skin on skin rippled through me. Oh man, it was happening all over again—me falling under his spell.

  Diogo’s deep voice cut through the sound of the waterfall. “I want you, Sarah,” he said, and with his gaze holding mine he added, “So much it kept me awake last night.”

  Desire rippled through me. Oh my God, it was happening all over again. I had to take control of my body and mind. Fast. When I spoke my throat tightened, making my words sound thick. “I don’t want you to,” I said, hoping the words, more than their weak delivery, would convince him of my truthfulness.