He put his hand over hers, pressing it to his cheek. “You’re trembling.”
“I’ve just been waiting for this for a really long time.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Emilio, I have never been more sure of anything in my life.” She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down, wrapped herself around him, kissed him. It was like…coming home. Everything about her was familiar. The feel of her body, the scent of her skin, her soft, breathy whimpers as he touched her.
He felt as if he was twenty-one again, lying in his bed in his rental house on campus, with their entire lives ahead of them. He remembered exactly what to do to make her writhe in ecstasy. Slow and sweet, the way he knew she liked it. He brought her to the edge of bliss and back again, building the anticipation, until she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Make love to me, Emilio.” She dug her fingers through his hair, kissed him hard. “I can’t wait any longer.”
He grabbed the condom and she watched with lust-glazed eyes as he rolled it on. The second he was finished she pulled him back down, wrapping her legs around his waist.
He centered himself over her, anticipating the blissful wet heat of that first thrust, but he was barely inside when he met with resistance. She must have been tense from the anticipation of finally making love. He couldn’t deny he was a bit anxious himself. He put some weight into it and the barrier gave way. Isabelle gasped, digging her nails into his shoulders and she was tight. Tighter than any wife of fifteen years should be.
He eased back, looking down where their bodies were joined, stunned by what he saw. Exactly what he would have expected…if he’d just made love to a virgin.
No way. “Isabelle?”
It was obvious by her expression that she had been hoping he wouldn’t figure it out. How was this even possible?
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, pulling at his shoulders, trying to get him closer.
Hell no, he wasn’t going to stop, but if he had known he could have at least been more gentle.
“I’m going to take it slow,” he told her. Which in theory was a great plan, but as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her, she relaxed. Then “slow” didn’t seem to be enough for her. She began to writhe beneath him, meeting his downward slide with a thrust of her hips. He was so lost in the feel of her body, the clench of her muscles squeezing him into euphoria, that he was running on pure instinct. When she moaned and bucked against him, her body fisting around him as she climaxed, it did him in. His only clear thought as he groaned out his release was perfect. But as he slowly drifted back to earth, reality hit him square between the eyes.
He and Isabelle had finally made love, after all these years, and he was her first. Exactly as it was meant to be.
So why did he feel so damned…guilty?
“You know, I must have imagined what that would be like about a thousand times over the past fifteen years,” she said. “But the real thing is way better than the fantasy.”
Emilio tipped her face up to his. “Izzie, why didn’t you tell me?”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. She lowered her eyes. “I was embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“You don’t run across many thirty-four-year-old virgins.”
“How is this even possible? You’re young and beautiful and sexy. Your husband never wanted to…?”
“Can we not talk about it?” She was closing down, shutting him out, but he wanted answers, damn it.
“I want to know how you can be married to a man for fifteen years and never have sex with him.”
She sat up and pulled the covers over her. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m a reasonably intelligent man, Izzie. Try me.”
“We…we didn’t have that kind of relationship.”
“What kind of relationship did you have?”
She drew her knees up and hugged them. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Did you love him?”
She bit her lip and looked away.
“Isabelle?”
After a long pause she said, “I…respected him.”
“Is that your way of saying you were just in it for the money?”
She didn’t deny it. She didn’t say anything at all.
If she loved Betts, Emilio would understand her leaving him. It sucked, but he could accept it. Knowing it was only about the money, seeing the truth on her face, knowing that she’d really been that shallow, disturbed him on too many levels to count.
“This was a mistake,” he said. He pushed himself up from the bed and grabbed his pants.
“Emilio—”
“No. This never should have happened. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”
She was quiet for several seconds, and he waited to see what she would do. Would she apologize and beg him to stay? Tell him she made a horrible mistake? And would it matter if she did?
“You’re right,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “It was a mistake.”
She was agreeing with him, and she was right, so why did he feel like putting his fist through the wall?
He tugged his pants on.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“Meaning what?”
“Are you going to back out on our deal?”
He grabbed his shirt from off the floor. “No, Isabelle, I won’t. I keep my word. But I would really appreciate if you would stay out of my way. And I’ll stay out of yours.”
He was pretty sure he saw tears in her eyes as he jerked the door open and walked out. And just when he thought this night couldn’t get any worse, his brother was sitting in the kitchen eating a sandwich and caught him red-handed.
Damn it.
When he saw Emilio his eyes widened, then a wry smile curled his mouth.
Emilio glared at him. “Don’t say a word.”
Estefan shrugged. “None of my business, bro.”
Emilio wished Estefan had walked into the kitchen before Isabelle started her stripping routine, then none of this would have happened.
But one thing he knew for damned sure, it was not going to happen again.
Eleven
This was for the best.
At least, that was what Isabelle had been trying to tell herself all day. She would rather have Emilio hate her, than fall in love and endure losing her again. That wouldn’t be fair. Not to either of them. She was tired of feeling guilty for hurting him. She just wanted it to be over. For good.
She should have left things alone, should never have opened her robe, offered herself to him, but she’d figured for him it was just sex. She never imagined he might still have feelings for her, but he must have, or it wouldn’t have matter if she loved Lenny or not.
She ran the vacuum across the carpet in the guest room, cringing at the memory of his stunned expression when he realized she was a virgin. She didn’t know he would be able to tell. A testament to how naive and inexperienced she was. But as first times go, she was guessing it had been way above average. Everything she had ever hoped, and she couldn’t regret it. She loved Emilio. She’d wanted him to be her first. As far as she was concerned, it was meant to be.
Except for the part where he stormed off mad.
When he’d asked her about Lenny, she had almost told him the truth. It had been sitting there on the tip of her tongue. Now she was relieved she hadn’t. It was better that he thought the worst of her.
She turned to do the opposite side of the room, jolting with alarm when she realized Estefan was leaning in the bedroom doorway watching her.
His mere presence in the house put her on edge, but when he watched her—and he did that a lot—it gave her the creeps. When she dusted the living room he would park himself on the couch with a magazine, or if she was fixing dinner he would come in for a snack and sit at one of the island stools. Occasionally he would assault her with verbal barbs, which she generally ignored. But most of the time he just stared at her.
>
It was beyond unsettling.
Estefan raised the beer he was holding to his lips and took a swallow. Isabelle had distinctly heard him tell Emilio that he was clean and sober, yet the second he rolled out of bed every day, which was usually noon or later, he went straight to the fridge for a cold one.
The breakfast of champions.
It wasn’t her place to tattle on Estefan, and even if she told Emilio what he was doing, she doubted he would believe her. It was also the reason she didn’t tell him that she’d caught Estefan in his office going through his desk. He claimed he’d been looking for a pen, when she knew for a fact he’d been trying to get into the locked file drawer.
He was definitely up to something.
She turned off the vacuum. She knew she should keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t help herself. “Would you care for some pretzels to go with that?”
“Funny.” His greasy smile made her skin crawl. “Where are the keys for the Ferrari?”
“Why?”
“I need to borrow it.”
“I have no idea. Why don’t you call Emilio and ask him?”
“I don’t want to bother him.”
No, he knew his brother would say no, so it was easier to take it without his permission.
“I guess I’ll have to take the Saab instead.”
“Why don’t you take your bike?”
“No gas. Unless you want to loan me twenty bucks. I’m good for it.”
She glared at him. Even if she had twenty bucks she wouldn’t give it to him. He shouldn’t even be driving. He would be endangering not only himself, but everyone else on the road.
He shrugged. “The Saab it is, then.”
It wasn’t as if she could stop him. Short of calling the police and reporting him, she had no recourse. And in her experience, the police never really helped anyway.
Besides, she had enough to worry about in her own life without sticking her nose into Estefan’s business.
“So, this arrangement not working out the way you planned it?” Estefan asked.
She wondered what Emilio had told him, if anything.
“Still a virgin at thirty-four.” He shook his head. “Let me guess, was your husband impotent, or did you just freeze him out?”
The humiliation she felt was matched only by her anger at Emilio for telling Estefan her private business. She knew he was mad, but this was uncalled for. Was that his way of getting back at her?
Estefan flashed her that greasy smile again. “If you needed someone to take care of business, all you had to do was ask. I’m twice the man my brother is.”
The thought of Estefan coming anywhere near her was nauseating. “Not if you were the last man on earth.”
His expression darkened. “We’ll see about that,” he said, then walked away.
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but the possibilities made her feel uneasy. He wouldn’t have the nerve to try something, would he?
Tomorrow was Thanksgiving and he was supposed to be leaving. She would just have to watch her back until then.
Emilio’s Thanksgiving was not going well so far.
He stood in his closet, fresh out of a shower, holding up the shirt Isabelle had just ironed for him, noting the scorch mark on the left sleeve. “This is a three hundred dollar silk shirt, Isabelle.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, yet she didn’t really look sorry.
“I just wanted it lightly pressed. Not burned to a crisp.”
“I didn’t realize the iron was set so hot. I’ll replace it.”
“After you pay me back for the rug? And the casserole dish you broke. And the load of whites that you dyed pink. Not to mention the grocery bill that has mysteriously risen by almost twelve percent since you’ve been here.”
“Maybe I could stay an extra week or two and work off what I owe you.”
Terrific idea. But she would inevitably break something else and wind up owing him even more. Besides, he didn’t want her in his house any longer than necessary. If there was any way he could get his housekeeper back today and let Isabelle go on time served, he would, but he’d promised her a month off.
He balled the shirt up and tossed it in the trash can in the corner. “It would probably be in everyone’s best interest if you avoided using the iron.”
She nodded.
He turned to grab a different shirt and a pair of slacks. He was about to drop his towel, when he noticed she was still standing there.
He raised a brow. “You want to watch me get dressed?”
“I wasn’t sure if you were finished.”
“Finished what?”
“Yelling at me.”
“I wasn’t yelling.”
“Okay, disciplining me.”
“If I were disciplining you, it would have involved some sort of punishment.” Not that he couldn’t think of a few. Putting her over his knee was one that came to mind. She could use a sound spanking. But he’d promised himself he was going to stop thinking of her in a sexual way and view her as an employee. Tough when he couldn’t seem to stop picturing her naked and writhing beneath him.
“How about…chastising?” she said. “Dressing-down?”
“Exaggerate much? I was talking to you.”
“If you say so.”
Why the sudden attitude? If anyone had the right to be pissed, it was him.
“Is there anything else you need?” she asked.
“Could you tell my brother to be ready in twenty minutes?”
She saluted him and walked out.
He’d like to know what had gotten her panties in such a twist. Maybe she just didn’t like the fact that he’d called her out on her marriage being a total sham. That he’d more or less made her admit she married Betts for his money. In which case she was getting exactly what she deserved.
He got dressed, slipped on his cashmere jacket and grabbed his wallet. Estefan was waiting for him in the kitchen. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt that was inappropriately open for a family holiday gathering, and the thick gold chain was downright tacky, but Emilio kept his mouth shut. Estefan was trying. He’d been on his best behavior all week.
Almost too good.
“Ready to go?”
“I’ll bet you want to let me drive,” Estefan said.
Reformed or not, he was not getting behind the wheel of a car that cost Emilio close to half a million dollars. “I’ll bet I don’t.”
Estefan grumbled as they walked out to the garage. Emilio was about to climb in the driver’s seat of the Ferrari when he glanced over at the Saab. “Son of a—”
“What’s the matter?” Estefan asked.
The rear quarter panel was buckled. For a second he considered that someone had hit it while it was parked, but then he looked closer and noticed the fleck of yellow paint embedded in the black. Not car paint. More like what they used on parking barriers.
He shook his head. “Damn it!”
“Bro, go easy on her. I’m gonna bet she’s used to having a driver. It’s a wonder she even remembers how to drive.”
He walked to the door, yanked it open and yelled, “Isabelle!”
She emerged from her room, looking exasperated. “What did I do this time?”
“Like you don’t already know.” He gestured her into the garage.
She stepped out. “What?”
“The car.”
She looked at the Saab. “What about it?
Why was she playing dumb? She knew what she did. “The other side.”
She walked around, and as soon as she saw the damage her mouth fell open. “What happened?”
“Are you telling me you don’t recall running into some thing?”
She looked from Emilio, to Estefan, then back to the car. She didn’t even have the courtesy to look embarrassed for lying to him. She squared her shoulders and said, “Put it on my tab.”
That was it? That was all she had to say? “You might have mentioned this.”
&nbs
p; “Why? So you could make bad driver jokes about me?”
“What the hell has gotten into you, Isabelle?”
She shrugged. “I guess I’m finally showing my true colors. Living up to your expectations. You should be happy.”
She turned and walked back into the house, slamming the door behind her.
“Nice girl,” Estefan said.
No, this wasn’t like her at all. “Get in the car.”
When they were on the road Estefan said, “Dude, she’s not worth it.”
He knew that, in his head. Logically, they had no future together. The trick was getting the message to his heart. The protective shell he’d built around it was beginning to crumble. He was starting to feel exposed and vulnerable, and he didn’t like it.
“Make her leave,” Estefan said.
“I can’t do that. I gave her my word.” Besides, he didn’t think she had anywhere else to go.
“Dude, you don’t owe her anything.”
He’d promised to help her, and in his world, that still meant something. Estefan hadn’t kept a promise in his entire life.
They drove the rest of the way to Alejandro’s house in silence.
When they stepped through the door, the kids tackled them in the foyer, getting sticky fingerprints all over Emilio’s cashmere jacket and slacks, but he didn’t care.
“Kids! Give your uncles a break,” Alejandro scolded, but he knew they didn’t mind.
Chris, the baby, was clinging to Emilio’s leg, so he hoisted him up high over his head until he squealed with delight, then gave him a big hug. Reggie, the six-year-old, tugged frantically on his jacket.
“Hey, Uncle Em! Guess what! I’m going to be big brother again!”
“Your dad told me. That’s great.”
“Jeez, dude,” Estefan said with a laugh. “Four kids.”
Alejandro grinned and shrugged. “Alana wanted to try for a girl. After all these years I still can’t tell her no.”
“I think she should make a boy,” Reggie said. “I don’t want a sister.”
Emilio laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair. “I think she’ll get what she gets.”
One Month with the Magnate Page 10
