Fragancio Solis pulled back Elena’s chair, assisting her as she stood up, and towered above her by at least six inches. She inhaled, causing a swell of golden breasts to rise precariously from her dress’s revealing décolletage, then let out her breath in a soft whisper.
“I’m certain this man needs no introduction,” she began slowly enough for those who weren’t fully conversant in Portuguese, “but for those who are not familiar with the celebrities in our country…” Her words trailed off as she glared across the table at Regina. “I’d like to introduce my very good friend, Senhor Fragancio Solis.”
Fragancio inclined his head in acknowledgment, his gaze meeting and fusing with Regina’s. A slight smile played at the corner of his sensual mouth, and as he sat back down he winked at her.
She felt waves of anger radiating from Aaron, even though she hadn’t glanced at him. Placing her hand over his clenched fist, she leaned closer. “I have to use the lavatory,” she whispered in Spanish.
Pushing back his chair, Aaron stood up, excusing himself. His hand cupped Regina’s elbow as he eased her to her feet and led her out of the dining room.
Regina waited until they were concealed behind the closed door of an ultramodern bathroom, then asked angrily, “What is going on back there?”
He went completely still. “You tell me.”
Her gaze narrowed. “No, Aaron, you tell me. Your redhaired girlfriend has been throwing daggers at me from the moment she laid eyes on me, and I don’t like it. I suggest you handle your business,” she warned softly.
“There’s nothing to handle, because there’s nothing going on between Elena and me.”
“Then what was her snide remark about those not being familiar with our country all about? She doesn’t know me or anything about me, yet that doesn’t stop her from being downright bitchy. Muzzle her, Aaron, or I won’t be responsible for what I just might say. After all, these people are your esteemed colleagues, not mine.”
She brushed past him, opening the door and leaving him to follow her. She hadn’t taken more than a half-dozen steps when he caught up with her, his fingers curving around her upper arm.
“Calm down,” he ordered, holding her fast. His grip tightened as he pulled her against his chest in a comforting embrace. “Relax, Princesa.” She went limp against his body. “Are you all right now?”
Closing her eyes, she smiled. “Yes.”
His nose nuzzled her ear. “Do you know something?”
“What?”
“You’re magnificent when you’re angry.”
Easing back, she couldn’t help herself when she burst out laughing, and much to her surprise his low, rumbling laugh joined hers.
Winding her arm through his, she brushed her mouth over his. “Let’s go back before they send out a search party for us.”
They returned to the dining room, holding hands while sharing a secret smile. The rest of the evening sped by quickly as Aaron and Regina withdrew to their private world where no one or nothing could penetrate the invisible thread binding them even tighter than before.
They were silent on the return trip home. Aaron smiled to himself, concentrating on the uneven surfaces of the road illuminated by the car’s headlights. After their confrontation in the Benedetti bathroom and he and Regina had declared a temporary truce, Elena had transferred her undivided attention to her flirtatious jock for the remainder of the evening.
Jeannette and Regina made plans to visit each other, and he was pleased Regina had found a friend. She needed more than her garden to keep her occupied.
They arrived home after midnight, and Regina hesitated going inside as she stood in the veiled blackness, inhaling the scent of Brazil.
“I can’t believe the vastness of this country,” she whispered softly to Aaron.
“It is mind-boggling, isn’t it?”
Leaning back against his body, she stared up at the star-littered sky, placing a delicate hand over the mound of her belly. “I have a name for our son.”
“What is it, Darling?”
“Clayborne Diaz Spencer.”
Turning her around to face him, Aaron tried making out her features in the dark. “He would carry his grandfathers’ middle names.”
She nodded and moved closer. “Something tells me he’s going to be very much like his grandfathers.”
Bending slightly, Aaron curved an arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders. “If that’s the case, then he’ll become a man who should make us very proud.”
Holding on to his neck, she buried her face against his throat, inhaling his sensual male scent as it mingled with his cologne. “I’m sorry about going off on you in the bathroom,” she whispered as he pushed open the door beyond the inner courtyard and headed for the staircase. “I just couldn’t sit there and watch Elena—”
His mouth swooped down on hers, stopping her words. “Shh, Princesa. Don’t ever mention her name in this house again,” he warned softly between light, nibbling kisses.
“I won’t,” she whispered back.
As he lifted her higher, she gasped as the tiny purse she held in one hand fell to the floor. “Stop, Aaron. I dropped my bag.”
He continued up the staircase. “Don’t worry about it. You can get it in the morning.”
And she did forget about it, and everything else, once she lay in bed with Aaron, welcoming him into her arms and into her body. Their lovemaking was a prolonged, tender joining, and when they finally released their dammed up passions both were filled with an amazing sense of completeness they had never experienced before.
Regina left the bed at sunrise and managed to complete her morning toilette without waking Aaron. It was Sunday morning, and she wanted to prepare breakfast for him for the first time.
Her step was light and carefree as she practically skipped down the staircase, stopping only to pick up the small sequined bag she had dropped the night before.
She walked into the kitchen and stopped abruptly. Magda was there, filling a coffeepot with water. It wasn’t seven o’clock, and she hadn’t expected to see the housekeeper before that time. The petite woman turned and stared at her, her gaze widening in surprise.
Regina gave her a warm smile. “Bom dia, Magda.”
“Bom dia, Senhora Spencer.”
Walking across the kitchen, Regina placed her evening bag on a countertop. “You don’t have to make breakfast for Senhor Spencer this morning. I’m going to do it.”
Magda stared at her, unmoving. “I always make Senhor Spencer’s breakfast.”
“Not this morning. I’d like to surprise my husband—” The instant the two words were out of her mouth she knew she thought of Aaron Spencer not only as the father of her unborn child, but as the man she would exchange vows with.
Magda shook her head as if she did not understand. “I’m sorry, Senhora, but I will make the breakfast.”
Regina knew the housekeeper understood what she was saying. She had learned enough basic Portuguese from the young man who helped her in the garden to communicate with most Brazilians.
“I will cook,” she said firmly. “You may go back home.”
Magda put down the coffeepot, at the same time mumbling angrily under her breath. Regina stared, her mouth gaping when she recognized a curse she had heard two men exchange during a heated argument when she’d walked down a street in Salvador.
“What did you say?”
Magda spun around, her dark eyes narrowing with resentment. “Nada, Senhora Spencer.” There was no mistaking the facetiousness in the title.
“Senhora Pires, I would like to see you—alone!”
Both women jumped at the low, angry sound of Aaron’s voice. Neither had heard him when he walked into the kitchen.
“Agora.” Even though he hadn’t raised his voice, Magda flinched. He wanted to see her now!
Regina took a step toward Aaron, hoping to explain to him that Magda probably hadn’t understood her, but he shot her a warning glance which s
houted Don’t interfere, and she wouldn’t.
Her gaze softened as it met Magda’s when she followed Aaron out of the kitchen.
Aaron waited for the housekeeper to walk into his study before he closed the door. He gestured to the chair beside his desk. “Please sit,” Magda nodded, taking the chair.
Waiting until she was seated, Aaron sat down behind the desk and laced his fingers together as he stared from under lowered lids at the woman who had come to work for the da Costas the year he turned twenty. He had always found her cooperative and efficient, and there was never a time since his stepmother-aunt had passed away that he’d ever found fault with her household duties.
Except now.
“Did you not understand Senhora Spencer when she said she would prepare breakfast for me?”
Magda kept her gaze fixed on her folded hands on her lap. “I understood, Senhor Spencer.”
His forehead furrowed in a frown. “Then why did you not do as she asked?”
“But I always prepare your breakfast for you.”
His frown deepened. “That was in the past, Magda. If Senhora Spencer elects to prepare breakfast, then I don’t want you to challenge her. She is mistress of this house, and her word is final. Do you understand?”
She nodded, raising her head and giving him a direct stare. “Yes.”
He offered her a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling attractively. “I’ve been thinking about giving you more time off.” Her eyes widened with this disclosure. “From now on you will work from Monday through Thursday.”
“You do not need me on Fridays?”
He shook his head. “No.” He had decided to cut back his own work schedule. He was committed to the three days at the hospital, but now he limited his involvement with the research institute to one day. Medical research was an ongoing laborious task, and his need to care for Regina was much more immediate.
What he did not want to acknowledge was his fear—a fear that she, like his mother, would not survive childbirth. The fear surfaced when he least expected it, leaving him shaking and feeling powerless despite his medical training.
Magda forced a smile. “Thank you, Senhor Spencer.”
“You’re welcome, Magda.”
He waited for the tiny woman to leave, then sat for several minutes staring at the closed door. A foreign emotion had not permitted him to fire Magda though he registered the slur she made about Regina. It was as if something had swept away the red-hot fury, temporarily paralyzing his tongue.
He suspected Magda resented Regina’s presence. For more than three years no other woman had occupied the house, and she had probably come to think of herself as mistress of the da Costa estate.
Aaron closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. If Regina Spencer did not become mistress of his house, no other woman would ever claim that status.
Chapter 21
Regina sat at the dressing table in the expansive dressing room, outlining her lips with a brown liner before filling them in with a flattering, orange-brown color. A gleam of anticipation glimmered in her dark eyes as she looked forward to spending the afternoon with Jeannette Benedetti. They had agreed Jeannette would come to the da Costa estate for brunch for their first social engagement.
Surveying her face, Regina was pleased with the results. She had had her hair trimmed the day before, when she went to Salvador with Aaron for her monthly checkup with Dr. Nicolas Benedetti. Her trip to the hair salon was followed up with an afternoon of shopping for Christmas gifts for family members, and instead of waiting for Aaron to drive her back home she had secured the services of a taxi for the return trip. She offered the overly polite, friendly driver a generous tip, prompting him to propose his services as an on-call driver. She accepted his pager number, promising to call him whenever the need arose. Having a private driver at her disposal would eliminate the need for Aaron to purchase a car for her personal use.
The light from a lamp on the dressing table glinted off the stones on the ring on her left hand, and she stared down at Arlene Spencer’s ring. She had promised herself she would only wear it the night of Jeannette’s surprise party, but two days had passed since that event. Twisting the wide band around her finger, she pulled it off and left it on the table.
Rising to her feet, she made her way over to the armoire where her clothes were stored, opening one of many small drawers. The sequined purse she had carried to the dinner party lay beside another covered with a profusion of black bugle beads. She picked up the purse, retreated to her bedroom, and poured its contents out on the antique quilt covering the large bed. A jeweled compact, tube of lipstick, and a small sable brush lay on the bed covering. Vertical lines appeared between her eyes as she shook the purse vigorously. The ring was missing!
Closing her eyes, she tried remembering the events wherein Aaron had removed Oscar’s ring from her finger. He had given it back to her, and she had dropped it into the purse, she was certain. But then she remembered dropping the purse on the staircase when he carried her up the stairs to their bedroom later that night.
She opened her eyes. However, she had found the purse the following morning in the exact place where she had dropped it, and she was sure it hadn’t opened to spill its contents on the staircase.
A lump rose in her throat. The ring was her last inanimate link with Oscar Spencer, and she wasn’t ready to let him go—not yet. There were times when she wondered why she had not accepted Aaron’s marriage proposal, rationalizing there was no rush to marry him because she was carrying his child. On the other hand, there were occasions when she believed the enmity between Aaron and Oscar continued despite the latter’s death. After all, Oscar had married the first woman Aaron had ever loved. And the memory of a first love usually did not fade—not even with time.
Her jaw hardened as she returned to the dressing room and retrieved Arlene’s ring. It was safer on her finger than lying around. She intended as soon as Aaron returned from the hospital to ask him if he had removed the ring from her purse.
She made her way down to the kitchen to solicit Magda’s assistance to set the table on the pergola. After their Sunday morning confrontation Magda had come to her and apologized profusely. She accepted the apology, with a promise it would never occur again.
Taking several steps back from the table in the pergola, Regina surveyed her handiwork. The round wooden table was set with a sunny, yellow linen tablecloth with matching napkins. Blooming yellow tea roses entwined with ivy, climbed over the trellis, filling the warm air with their delicate floral scent.
A closet off the kitchen contained century-old sets of china, silver, crystal, and linens, and she had selected a place setting of bone china with sprigs of yellow flowers circling the edges and sterling silverware with heavy handles designed with an elaborate baroque design.
She had spent the morning preparing a menu which was certain to surprise her guest, hoping to bring a touch of the American South to Bahia, Brazil. The sound of voices filtered in the warm summer air, and Regina turned to find Magda escorting Jeannette into the pergola.
“What’s up, Girlfriend?” Jeannette asked, grinning broadly.
Regina hugged her new friend, returning the smile. “We’re having soul food for lunch,” she whispered close to her ear.
Jeannette pulled back, her mouth gaping in surprise. “Oh, no you didn’t!” she exclaimed once she found her voice. “What did you make?”
“Oven-fried chicken, cornbread, sweet potatoes, and steamed kale. I couldn’t find any collard or mustard greens, so the kale was the next best substitute.”
Jeannette’s head bobbed up and down in slow motion as she wrinkled her nose. “Did you slip any smoked meat in the kale?”
“I put just a sliver in, for seasoning purposes only,” she confirmed, feeling like a conspirator. “You know your husband’s warnings about sodium intake.”
Waving a hand, Jeannette glanced at the table set with the heirloom china, crystal, and covered silver serving dishes. “Ni
colas can be a pain in the behind when he wants to. My blood pressure is normal, and my feet and legs haven’t swelled, so I don’t know why he monitors my diet so closely.” She glanced down at the ballet slippers on Regina’s narrow feet. “And judging from the spikes you were wearing Saturday night I know you haven’t been retaining fluid.”
Regina nodded. “I’m giving myself until Christmas for the heels, then I’m going to put them away for a while.” Taking Jeannette’s hand, she led her to the table. “Let’s sit and eat before everything gets cold.”
Jeannette Benedetti sat down, visually admiring her hostess. This Regina Spencer looked vastly differently from the one she had met at her dinner party. She looked younger, almost too young for Aaron Spencer. A pair of slim, black Capri pants she had paired with a tailored, white linen smock concealed her physical condition. Pregnancy agreed with her. Her skin was clear, her eyes bright, and her coiffed hair full and lustrous. Jeannette had been as surprised as her husband when Nicolas revealed that Aaron had married and his bride was expecting a child.
Jeannette took a forkful of each portion, shaking her head in reverence. “Girl, you can cook for me anytime. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
Regina raised her goblet filled with chilled lemonade and took a sip. “My father. He won’t admit it, but he’s always been a frustrated chef. I don’t know how he does it, but he manages to make grilled franks taste wonderful.”
Smiling, Jeannette stared at Regina over the rim of her own goblet of lemonade. “Does Aaron cook?”
“Yes. And very well.”
“It seems as if you married a man like your father.”
Regina’s expression sobered when she analyzed Jeannette’s statement. Aaron was more like her father than she realized. Both were tall and powerfully built. And whenever Aaron sat and draped one leg over his knee the motion was the same graceful movement she had seen Martin Cole execute over and over.
Even their personalities were more similar than dissimilar. Aaron saw to her every need in the manner that her father had taken, and continued to take, care of her mother. The most important factor was that they were honorable men, and she knew if she married Aaron it would be for a lifetime.
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