April wrung her hands, waiting for him to tell her to get out. She wouldn’t blame him if he did. She’d done nothing to stop him and in fact had jumped all over the guy the minute he started kissing her. Without warning he grabbed her left hand and brought it up in front of them both, looking from her ring-less finger to the shocked blush that covered her face. “Where the hell is your engagement ring?” Speechless, she shrugged. “I…I took it off.” “But why?” She pulled her hand out of his larger one and took a step back, putting some much needed distance between them. “That’s for me to know and well, frankly, for you not to.” He laughed coldly and placed his hands on his lean, towel-clad hips. “Now that’s the Miss Sutton I know. Welcome back.” She sighed heavily as her temper flared. “All right, if you must know—my fiancé decided to marry some Swedish model while in Paris, and somehow forgot he was already engaged to me. Now that I think of it, you two seem to have a lot in common.” She couldn’t believe the weird turn of events her evening was suddenly taking. Ignoring her barb, he instead looked very satisfied at her explanation, even having the audacity to break out into a heart-stopping smile. “Good—then you can marry me.”
Praise for Linda Engman and I’VE GOT YOU... “The writing is fantastic. I absolutely loved the characters. Enjoyed every single minute of it. Romance enthusiasts will fall in love with I’VE GOT YOU. Be sure not to miss out on this must-read story.” ~Long and Short Reviews ~*~ “Her major talent is bringing a story to life. Definitely a book that warmed my heart and can’t wait for more by Linda Engman.” ~Night Owl Reviews ~*~ “This is a wonderful book to get lost in…I highly recommend you read this book…cannot wait to read more by this author.” ~The Romance Studio ~*~ and FALLING FOR YOU... “Really enjoyed this story…you are blown away. Highly recommend.” ~Single Title Reviews ~*~ “Impressed me! Loved the ending.” ~Sizzling Hot Reviews
Manhattan Holiday by Linda Engman
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. Manhattan Holiday COPYRIGHT 2011 by Linda S. Engman All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Contact Information:
[email protected] Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc. Design The Wild Rose Press PO Box 706 Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706 Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History First Champagne Rose Edition, 2011 Print ISBN 1-60154-984-9 Published in the United States of America
Dedication To all the romance readers, including my mom and myself, who love fun, romantic big-city stories. Enjoy. Linda
Chapter One Roman Vasquez. The name made April grimace as she looked at her daily schedule. The man was slotted for two o’clock, and there was nothing she could do about it. “April, do you have the updated list of appointments?” She looked up from her computer and replaced her frown with a smile of complacency. “Yes, of course,” she answered, noticing how closely her boss, Henry Bressler, was scrutinizing her from the doorway of his office as seasonal music played overhead. To one corner, the office Christmas tree twinkled; the modern, silver version appropriate for a prestigious Manhattan law firm. “Is there a problem, April?” “No, not at all,” she lied, not wanting to reveal there was indeed a problem, and it wasn’t the fake tree. Instead her quandary came in a six-foot-two muscled package with dark gleaming hair and sexy brown eyes. “Here’s the revised list for the rest of the day. I moved Mr. Fields to nine o’clock tomorrow morning. That way you can leave early tonight and not be late for your dinner date with your very understanding wife.” April reached across her desk and handed her boss the list, wishing the day could be over. Henry Bressler scanned the appointments, nodding as he gave her a quick grin. “Thank you, April. You’re a lifesaver. If I forget another dinner date with Elle, she’ll have my head. Plus we’re scheduled to attend some holiday party afterward. 1
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One of those swanky get-together things with someone playing a baby grand, lots of candles, and little food things on trays.” He made a typical disgruntled male expression and glanced over his appointments again. “Hey, great—Roman Vasquez is next. Send him in right away when he gets here. Oh, and bring in some coffee after he arrives. He said the last time he was here how great your coffee was.” April nodded. Her smile melted away as her boss went back into his office and closed the door. Coffee, she fumed. Of course Roman Vasquez liked her coffee. She had a business degree from Northwestern University, graduating at the top of her class, plus a postgraduate degree in legal studies from Columbia. Not to mention she’d secured the position of head legal assistant at Bressler and Bressler, and all Roman Vasquez could acknowledge her for—was her coffee. This didn’t surprise her one bit. Arrogant and self-assured, Roman Vasquez was everything she detested in a man. Too good-looking, cocky, unbelievably smart and wealthy, the man walked through life like he owned it. Every time he visited the law offices of Bressler and Bressler, it was like having a tropical storm blow through. And she despised the way she felt around him. Each time she encountered him her body would tingle, her heart racing with a beat of betrayal, and her mind refused to function at all, which never failed to make her feel like some dorky small-town girl with a crush. But the most unforgivable part was the man acted as if she’d personally done him some horrible wrong. To others he was warm and friendly, with an over-the-top personality that demanded attention. With her he was the complete opposite. Time and again he seemed ill at ease, giving her narrowed 2
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looks from his dark eyes and nothing but firm grimaces from his already hard mouth. It was almost as if he knew what she thought of him. “Having a bad day, Miss Sutton? You look a little strung out.” April glanced up from her computer, directly into the fathomless depths of Roman Vasquez’s eyes. Immediately she felt her face blush as if she had been caught doing something underhanded. “Of course not,” she snapped, gentling her attitude with a forced smile. “I mean, nice to see you, Mr. Vasquez. Happy Holidays.” “Yeah, guess it’s that time of year again.” Ugh. Typical man. Not into the holidays. “Yes, it seems that way.” To fill the void in their dismal conversation, she pushed the crystal candy dish that rested on her desk toward him. “Care for a chocolate?” He shrugged and grabbed a large handful, emptying half of the contents in one swoop. Aghast at the man’s audacity, she watched him unwrap the gold foil from one of the pricey chocolates and pop it into his mouth. “Thanks...these are good,” he mumbled, chewing and unwrapping yet another piece. She bit back a nasty retort, feeling flustered now as he continued to stare down at her while he did nothing but loiter at her desk, consuming one Godiva chocolate after another, apparently content to empty the bowl in one visit. She made a mental note to supply it with tooth-busting rock candy next time. “Uh, well…you seem to be early, but I’m sure Mr. Bressler is ready for you. You may go in if you like.” “Cool,” was all he mumbled, seemingly not in a hurry. He pilfered yet another handful of candy and 3
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jammed the chocolates into his jacket pocket, then gave her another long, unreadable look before moving to knock on her boss’s door. She held her breath—and her temper—in check. As soon as the door closed, she let out a long sigh of relief. She hadn’t heard him approach her desk and wondered how long he had been watching her as she stared mindlessly like an idiot at her computer screen. The man was a menace. If he hadn’t been one of Bressler and Bressler’s top clients, she would have loved to tell him off months ago. Six months, to be exact. That was when she first laid eyes on him and all his incredible assets. Her thoughts easily retraced back to that fateful day. She’d been late getting to work because of a dental appointment and was promptly called into the conference room by Henry to meet B&B’s new client. Her boss had already informed her that the firm would be handling all contracts, acquisitions, mergers, and developments for Vasquez Engineer and Building. When she entered the conference room, she expected the usual fifty-something older man with a balding head—what she encountered was Roman Vasquez. Henry had spotted her hovering by the doorway and motioned for her to join him. With the room filled with lawyers and associates, she observed Roman Vasquez for only a brief moment before being introduced. In that minute she saw the most magnificent, confident, and overpowering human being she’d ever laid eyes on. Lethally smooth and polished in an expensive suit, he had everyone under his spell. Even old Henry Senior had a grin on his weathered face as he conversed with the firm’s new client. Her heart pounded uncontrollably and her mouth went dry as she approached. Meeting the 4
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man was like nothing she had ever experienced before. To April it was like facing a big, smoldering volcano; you knew it was dangerous territory but couldn’t help but be fascinated. Under that calm outer surface lay a fiery interior lethal to anyone who ventured too close. Trying to act natural, she willed herself to behave professionally. She put her best legal assistant smile on her face and reached out her hand in greeting. What she got from Roman Vasquez was confusing to say the least. His dark eyes narrowed, and the secretive, cocky grin disappeared into a tight firm line. His tall, well-built body straightened and tensed. His firm handshake was awkward, stiff, and indisputably brief. Weird. April mentally shook herself back to the present situation and tore her eyes way from her boss’s closed office door, deciding to make a refreshment tray as instructed. After all, Henry hadn’t meant to offend when he mentioned her coffee; she knew how much he appreciated her hard work and how far she’d come to achieve what she had. And she loved him for it. They worked well together, and she didn’t for one minute think he would ever abuse their working relationship. Over the past four years they’d formed a tight working friendship, despite her initial misgivings. She’d been suspicious of his warm smiles and friendly demeanor at first, especially coming from an athletic, handsome thirty-something—until he announced he was getting married and settling down. Ever since, they’d been a great working team, with her trusting him completely. In the small kitchenette of the law office she set to work on grinding fresh coffee beans, waiting patiently for the coffeemaker to finish brewing, all the while fuming about the man in the other room. For some reason, Roman Vasquez seemed to push all 5
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her buttons the wrong way. The guy was too everything with his high-powered construction company, fast-paced private life, and all that lean, muscled body and devilish smile. He was even a decorated military vet with a perfect record. She also knew he stayed in top shape by rock climbing and surfing. The man surfs, for goodness’ sake. Peevishly, she folded her arms across her breasts, trying not to think of what he would look like in nothing but a pair of board shorts. Or how his jet-black hair would look gleaming wet, his muscled chest matted with dark hair, his long legs carrying him out of the foaming sea— “So, girlfriend, have you thought about coming to Miami for New Year’s?” April jumped guiltily. “Oh…Emily,” she sputtered, undoubtedly warm under her clothes. “Florida? Remember?” Emily questioned again, a wry smile on her face. “Yes, I remember and I appreciate the invitation to your family’s home, but I don’t think I should impose on your holiday,” she replied, wavering over the decision to go somewhere tropical and balmy for the New Year’s holiday. Emily Langford frowned back, tossing her sleek black hair over one shoulder as her brownish-topaz eyes danced with fire. “Why in the world would you want to stay in snowy Manhattan with the howling winds instead of coming with Jake and me to Florida?” A jazzed-up version of “White Christmas” played overhead as April grinned back at her friend, loving how she could argue a point as if in court. Friends for the past half-year, ever since Emily joined the exclusive firm as a lawyer, the two seemed like complete opposites, yet in the previous months they’d found much in common. 6
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April took a tray from the shelf and added two china saucers and cups to it. “I’d feel like a third wheel—that’s why.” “No, you won’t. My mother will be there. Plus we always have tons of friends and family coming over. Mom has the house all decorated for the holidays with three gorgeous Christmas trees, the food is amazing, there’s twinkle lights everywhere—you know how you love twinkle lights—we can shop, lay by the pool, sip cocktails with umbrellas. And the best part of the weekend is that we can ring in the New Year dancing at some hot club all night in sequined mini-dresses and get totally trashed on expensive champagne. You’ll have fun, trust me,” Emily pleaded. April added bakery Christmas cookies to a doilycovered plate. “Sexy sequined mini-dresses? Trashed on champagne? My councilor, but you paint such a pretty picture of the holidays.” Emily ignored her. “Seriously, April, you need to get away from this city and from the memories of Todd. Oh, my gosh! Don’t tell me you’re still wearing that jerk’s ring?” April looked down at her left hand to the overly large, gaudy pink diamond that still rode on her finger. “I meant to take it off for good this morning, but I couldn’t yet. Henry knows all about what Todd did, but I’m really not looking forward to explaining to everyone else in the office that my loving fiancé totally lost his mind and up and married a bigbreasted, blonde-haired model while on business in Paris.” Her heart sunk again like a doomed ship at the thought of what happened eight weeks ago. Todd, her trusted, loving fiancé, had turned into nothing more than a lusting, mindless…man. He’d gone off and impulsively married some twenty-year-old Swedish model who was nothing but breasts and 7
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legs. Okay, so what’s your point? “Trust me, you’re so much better off without him,” Emily offered, sounding relieved. “Now about that ring?” “I know, I know. I’ll take it off tonight after work,” April promised, noticing the satisfied look on her friend’s exquisite features. “Please do. I don’t want to see that thing when we go out to dinner tonight. And can you please let me know by this evening what your holiday plans are. I need to phone my mother tomorrow and let her know if you’re coming or not. But really, think about it. Fun, sun, cute tanned hunks on the beach…” Emily tempted, adding a saucy wink. “You are impossible.” April smirked and nodded as she finished pouring two coffees. “Yes, I will think about it. Now if you’ll excuse me, Roman Vasquez is in with Henry—and apparently my coffee is in big demand this afternoon,” she stated dryly, adding a mocking smile before carrying the tray down the hall. At her boss’s door, she awkwardly shifted the tray in one hand and somehow managed to open the door. The minute she entered the room, she felt the sting of Roman Vasquez’s gaze on her. Surprised, she watched him leap to his feet and come forward, looming over her as he took the tray from her shaking hands. With his handsome Latin features inscrutable, he watched her closely, their eyes locking together in an odd heated exchange. “Thank you,” she murmured, wishing she could stop blushing. For some reason he always managed to make her hot all over. Ugh. Junior high all over again. “Uh...yeah, don’t mention it.” “Great. Thank you, April,” Henry spoke, continuing the conversation as Roman Vasquez placed the tray on Henry’s desk. 8
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April exited discreetly. She was glad her boss hadn’t needed her for anything else, whether it be note-taking or reading over a contract. At least for the rest of her day, she was spared any more contact with Roman Vasquez. **** Roman watched as April Sutton quietly disappeared from the room. Medium height and curved in all the right places, with pretty caramelblonde hair, violet eyes, and creamy satin skin, she had the ability to make him speechless like no other woman had ever done before. It was that way every time he saw her, and it was getting worse. She wasn’t even his so-called type. When he had the time to date, he went out with women who were a little wild and carefree; the type who knew how to cut loose in their lives, and if they happened to be tall with long legs—that didn’t hurt either. He never really got into the serious types who could, with determined scorn, look down their noses at him. That was what really got him in the gut. Granted he’d been tongue tied around her at their first meeting and couldn’t stop staring at her like a complete moron, besides feeling a little sick to his stomach, but did she really have look at him like he was some kind of loser? Ever since that day, he bore the brunt of her displeasure every time he glanced in her direction. On the other hand, when she blushed from one of his lame remarks, it was obvious proof the woman wasn’t immune to him—at least not as much she wanted him to believe. Not that it was doing him any good. The hideous engagement ring on her finger told him someone else had beaten him to the finish line; a line he would never cross. That was how it had been for the last six months, whenever he was forced to make a trip into his attorney’s office—a monthly 9
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time-to-get-horny routine would set in for some legal assistant who didn’t even care if he existed or not. “....so that will take care of the contracts for the next few months. I’d say we’re probably done here for a while. I also have those personal contracts almost ready for you. There are a few minor clauses to be added, though. I’m finishing those particular contracts myself as you requested. That is, if you still need them?” Roman blinked and forced himself to listen to what Henry Bressler was telling him. “Yes, I still need those personal contracts. Send over the final papers when they’re completed,” he instructed, rising to leave. “Very good,” Henry agreed, standing to shake his hand. “I hope I can get them done before the holiday weekend. If not, we’ll have to—” “—actually, I need those personal contracts sent over to my apartment tonight,” Roman interrupted. “The other party involved is scheduled to sign them this evening, along with a notary to witness the signing. I want my personal business wrapped up and out of the way before I head down to Florida for the New Year weekend.” “You’re going through with it? Tonight? This is sort of sudden,” Henry inquired, sounding overly concerned as he knit his dark winged brows together. “Uh, I mean…let me think. Ah, all right I guess I can make this work. If you really need them tonight, I’ll have to step up the plan a bit and move things along faster than expected.” The usual smooth, unflappable attorney seemed almost frantically lost in his own thoughts. “Could you fill me in on why the short notice on these personal contracts—if you don’t mind me asking?” “I have my reasons,” Roman stated firmly, with no further explanation. Henry smiled uneasily. “No problem then.” 10
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“Great. Thanks, man. And I appreciate you personally handling the contracts yourself. I know they’re not your forte,” he acknowledged, suddenly feeling like something was radically wrong with his plan. It was a strange, foreboding sensation he hadn’t ever experienced before. He definitely didn’t like how it felt in the bottom of his gut. He shook off the creepy feeling and refocused. “Uh, yeah, one more thing—if it’s all the same to you, Henry, from now on let’s conduct business at my office. It’s less…distracting there. **** April stood before her closet, pulling dress after dress and tossing them onto her antique iron bed. She studied the array, all of which seemed either too dowdy or too revealing. Eyeing a slinky red cocktail number she’d yet to don, she quickly pulled it out and put it up against her body, looking back at her reflection in the standing mirror. The deep crimson color of the garment brought out the smooth paleness of her complexion and made her feel decisively apart from the woman she portrayed at work. Most weekdays she dressed conservatively in tweed skirts and silk blouses with modest heels. With her hair up in her trademark bun, she was a model of what an assistant should be. Seen and taken seriously, but never drawing attention. The weekends were another matter. Tight jeans and tiny camisole tops, curve-hugging dresses and five-inch platform heels were her thing. As was her indulgence in skimpy lingerie. She loved the sheer freedom of wearing such things, since her weekdays were so structured and ordinary. For her, the weekends were purely about being sexy and feminine. She put the rest of the dresses back into her closet, except for the red chiffon confection that she tossed gently onto the bed. Stripping off her work 11
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clothes, she wrapped herself in a robe and made her way through to the kitchen, loving how her thirdfloor brownstone apartment had finally come together. After the break-up with Todd she’d literally thrown herself into redecorating it, and it now looked chic but comfortable. Done in creams and soft tawny tan, along with touches of dove blue-gray on the throw pillows and curtains, it was stunning but cozy at the same time. She was more than pleased, especially since she’d done everything herself. She’d picked out every last piece of furniture and even painted the walls and hung the new drapes. It was fresh and new and exactly what she needed. The next year was also a new start for her. No more boring fiancé telling her she was better off saving money than wasting it on clothes or having her hair done, which was rich, since Todd was now married to a woman whose whole life was about fashion and hair. Happily, she took out a box of flatbread crackers from a cabinet and proceeded to slather a few with creamy salmon spread. At the same time, she vowed to open one of the cookbooks she’d recently purchased and learn to make something other than omelets or cheese and crackers. She smiled with renewed optimism and took a bite of her snack, leaning against the counter to survey her new and improved digs. White twinkle lights and holiday greens trimmed her apartment mantel above the gas fireplace as the uniformed flames danced within. More white lights adorned her modest Christmas tree decorated with a hodge-podge of ornaments leftover from her childhood. As she studied the homemade holiday sentiments, warm memories filled her, and she realized her life was definitely on the upswing. Maybe part of her new resilience came from the fact she didn’t have Todd expecting her to put her life in 12
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second place for him. Or demanding she quit her job as soon as they married. She loved her career. The only reason she’d consider not working would be to have children; which she knew Todd didn’t want. Too much trouble, he’d told her once. He’d only insisted she stay home after they marry to keep his house running smoothly. Ugh! What century did you find that ass in? She laughed, finding dark humor in it now. On impulse she pulled off her gaudy engagement ring and dropped the offensive piece of jewelry onto the kitchen counter. The weight lifted symbolically off her shoulders. She eyed the clunky pink diamond while munching on another cracker. The ring was kind of trashy looking and too over the top for her. She would have preferred something more classic. She grimaced; Todd had only chosen it to impress his friends and coworkers at the investment firm where he worked. As if it were hazardous waste material, she picked up the matrimonial symbol with two fingers and unceremoniously dropped it into the silverware drawer, closing it with a bang. She would donate it to her favorite children’s charity. From now on my life is all about a new year, new apartment, and hopefully a new man. A guy who is normal and down to earth, thoughtful, kind, understanding, who wants nothing but a relationship that’s equal on every level. Fun, too. Absolutely, the guy has to be fun. And if he’s totally hot and good in bed—that will definitely be a plus too. Roman Vasquez. The name arbitrarily popped into her head as she poured herself a glass of chardonnay. His bold image made her spill some of the gold liquid onto the polished black granite countertop. Swearing to 13
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herself, she mopped up the spill and eyed the large brown envelope that sat to one end of the counter. His name flashed in her mind purely on account of the slim package that taunted her ever since leaving work. She gritted her back teeth and rinsed out the washcloth. Roman Vasquez was so far removed from the kind of man she wanted it was laughable. Even on her off-hours he could drive her nuts. She hung the kitchen cloth neatly on the side of the sink and took a long drink of her wine before she finally relented and picked up the packet to weigh it in her hands. His name was printed boldly on the outside of the oversized sealed envelope. Henry hadn’t told her what it contained; a first for him. She guessed some sort of contract or business papers had to be inside. Important ones at that, since she’d been instructed to deliver them to Roman Vasquez’s apartment tonight. She’d agreed, knowing Henry wouldn’t have asked her if it hadn’t been important. Given that she was paid well, and compensated with lots of vacation time and perks, going out of her way for her boss wasn’t even an issue. But facing Roman Vasquez was. After their first encounter, she’d Googled him and found out he was a third-generation developer. His late father and grandfather had been big-time developers, first in Puerto Rico, then again in Florida. Roman Vasquez had capitalized on the development boom in New York City, after which he’d expanded his firm to San Francisco, Denver, and Chicago. April dropped the envelope back onto the kitchen counter and picked up her wineglass to take another long drink, feeling the golden liquid slide down her tight throat. Knowing she was to see him again, twice in one day, made her more than anxious. There was just something in the way he 14
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looked at her that made her uneasy. It was as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle—one that he didn’t enjoy solving. Around everyone else he seemed at ease. The other legal assistants and secretaries practically swooned and openly flirted with him when he visited the office. Roman Vasquez was just as bad, returning the ladies’ banter with his own brand of sexy charm. But with her he acted as if she’d made him walk on hot coals through the lobby of Bressler and Bressler the numerous times he’d been there. This despite the fact she hadn’t done anything to the man but be polite and businesslike each time she encountered him, which was no easy feat since he made her wilt with unexpected heat each time he was within twenty feet of her. The guy’s hot. There’s no denying it. Damning her rotten luck, she eyed the clock on the stove and decided she’d better get ready for her evening out, before she made herself late thinking about Roman Vasquez. With Robin Thicke playing in the background she showered and toweled off, then blow-dried her hair, styling it loose and flowing. She quickly dusted her face with a light touch of powder, applied mascara, blush, and did the smoky-eye makeup routine. After slipping on a sheer pair of matching lace-trimmed panties and bra, she carefully slipped on her dress and stepped into her favorite Boutique 9 five-inch heels. In the mirror she looked at her reflection, loving how the dress resembled deep red wine and how her hair looked shimmering and full. With any luck, she’d find a hot guy tonight. And have nothing more than a purely fun, nostrings-attached, sweaty, one-night stand. About time. Hadn’t her sister June told her that recently? 15
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That a good man would appear when she least expected it, and in the meantime she needed to have some fun? Isn’t that what guys do? A quick hookup? Men aren’t out there hunting down the first woman who comes through the door in hopes for a long-term relationship. Okay—I’m going with the hot and sweaty nostrings-attached hookup tonight. The thought bounced back and forth in her mind. Maybe. I don’t know. Chicken. She made a disparaging face at herself in the bathroom mirror. At the age of twenty-eight, hooking up wasn’t her style. She shrugged, indecisive yet. On the other hand—it couldn’t hurt to consider it. After swiping gloss on her lips, she sprayed a liberal amount of her favorite perfume and grabbed her black cashmere wrap, only pausing to turn off her fireplace, holiday lights, and collect the envelope along with her evening bag. Still undecided what her plan was going to be concerning the man situation, she headed out the door. She was officially on the clock before meeting Emily, so Henry insisted his car service be provided for the entire night. Trying to protest had been useless. She smiled secretly. She’d given in easily, liking the idea of having a private car at her disposal. Outside her brownstone a black town car was waiting; the driver opened the back door for her. After giving him the address, she sat back and instructed herself to relax. They quickly left her tree-lined neighborhood and drove downtown to the 16
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trendy SoHo district, where Roman Vasquez lived. The evening was a typical one for Manhattan in December. The streets were snow laden and traffic was moving slowly, the norm for a Thursday night. Holiday decorations and strings of lights festooned the windows of various shops, restaurants, and luxury apartment buildings along the way. Stray snowflakes drifted about in the icy night air, making the post-Christmas scene magical. She took in the bustling romance of the streets and neighborhoods and remembered Henry had mentioned Roman Vasquez resided in a swanky loft apartment he’d renovated himself. Her boss also added the successful developer had purchased the entire block; his company renovating most of the buildings into luxury apartments and lofts before selling them. She couldn’t imagine how much money and energy was required to accomplish such a feat. Even though she personally didn’t care for the man, she had to admire his ability to do the unthinkable. The driver stopped the car outside a plain eightstory brick building with twin Christmas wreaths affixed to the Tiffany glass-paneled entry doors. The renovated building looked as if it once had been a warehouse of some kind. Even though the exterior was understated, she knew the interior would scream designer chic. And she wasn’t disappointed: the streamlined modern decor awed as a uniformed doorman greeted her inside the tastefully decorated lobby. After checking the registry, he waved her off in the direction of the elevators. Roman Vasquez’s loft was on the top floor, and she rode the lift with nervous tension racking her every breath. As the lift doors opened she stepped out, noticing there was only one door in the long hallway. Obviously he owned the entire floor, which came as no real surprise to her. He seemed like the kind of man who required an entire floor. 17
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She was about to knock on his door when it flew open. Gasping in shock, she took a deep breath and realized it wasn’t him, but a tall, bespectacled blond man who looked equally shocked to see her. “Hey,” the man murmured, eyeing her from top to bottom through his black-rimmed glasses, his arms laden with files and paperwork. “No way. You can’t be the assistant from that stuffy law office?” April smothered a laugh and smiled warmly at the twenty-something male who now stood in the doorway. “Yes, that would be me,” she answered. She reached out her hand. “I’m April Sutton. I have legal papers for Mr. Vasquez. He’s expecting me.” “Yes, of course,” the man replied, smiling down at her as he juggled his paperwork into one arm in order to shake her hand warmly. “I’m Alex Daniels, Roman’s assistant, and I can’t believe we’ve never met before. Roman always insists on doing all the legal stuff himself. Now I can see why. Tell you what, I’ve got to leave, but why don’t you go in and Roman will be right with you. I’m sure he’ll want to check over those papers before you leave. I hope this won’t ruin your plans for the night?” April ignored his ever-so-clever attempt to discover the details of her evening. “No, not at all,” she replied noncommittally, ignoring how he looked like he wanted to stay but couldn’t. “Have a good evening, Mr. Daniels.” Smiling, as if he understood her maneuvering tactics, he waved her into the apartment. “Have a great night yourself, Miss Sutton.” With that, he was gone, and April was left standing in Roman Vasquez’s entryway. Red brick walls greeted her as she walked on gleaming hardwood floors toward the direction of the main living area. In the entry she passed a wall displayed with modern artwork, highlighted by tiny spotlights in the ceiling. On the opposite wall hung 18
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surf boards and rock-climbing gear, along with a fishing rod and tackle. The usual man stuff, with it all artfully arranged as if part of the decor. She would have never guessed hanging such things would look right, but against the brick it seemed logical, especially for a New York City loft. And for someone like Roman Vasquez. In the living area she found extra high ceilings and long expanses of windows on two walls. The feeling of space and light was amazing and foreign after leaving her small apartment. The area was softly lit for the evening, a fire ablaze in the modern hearth, and showcased a comfortable black microsuede sofa and matching chairs, with glass end tables making up the rest of the décor. Along one wall was a galley kitchen divided from the rest of the living area by a massive slate-topped island. On another wall were shelves filled with books, artwork, and custom wood cubicles loaded with wine bottles. They seemed almost as if they were design elements with a functional purpose, no doubt the designer’s intent. Everything seemed to have a place and function—with the exception of a very spindly undecorated Christmas tree that clearly rivaled Charlie Brown’s. The poor thing only had one set of white lights threaded through its scrawny branches. She walked over and peeked at the tag attached to one of the threadbare tree limbs. Merry Christmas. I thought this tree fit your personality. Mawh! xoxo The handwriting was very feminine to say the least, and she raised a brow at the cryptic note. Obviously somebody had Roman Vasquez’s number. Not surprising. April smothered an amused chuckle and hesitantly moved farther into the living room. Notably absent throughout the loft were any other 19
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holiday decorations or even a hint the holidays existed. Typical. Loud rock music was cranked from a distance, and she guessed it had to be coming from Roman Vazquez’s bedroom. Rolling her eyes in disgust at his taste of music, she glanced about, wondering if she dared to search for him or if she should stand and wait. “Hello?” With no reply, she removed her cashmere shawl and draped it on the arm of the sofa. Eyeing a beautiful crystal paperweight, she laid her purse down along with the envelope and picked the heavy object off the coffee table. Inside the paperweight was an unusual and intriguing blue bug, and she examined the captured creature, marveling at how lifelike it looked. “Alex, if you’re done with those contracts, can you get Morrison on the phone before you leave? I need you to get those figures on the cost adjustment before—” April dropped the glass object as Roman Vasquez entered the room. The loud clunk of the paperweight landing on the glass coffee table was deafening in the high-ceilinged room. The clanking sound ricocheted off the ceiling and bounded around with a prolonged, embarrassed ring. Crap! Blushing beet red, she quickly picked up the toppled item, but not before she found herself moaning inwardly while noting he wore nothing but two strategically placed black bath towels: one tied securely around his lean hips, and the other draped around his neck while he used the ends to dry his hair. She stood speechless, her feet suddenly cemented to the floor, with the heavy crystal weight still in the palm of her shaking hand, unable to do much more than gape at the man. There was no doubt about it—Roman Vasquez was the most gorgeous male she’d ever laid eyes on. 20
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Even dripping wet he was magnificent. His damp dark hair was silky and gleaming. As she had imagined it would be. Swarthy skinned from top to bottom, he had an impressive set of broad shoulders and a ripped six-pack stomach. His wide, muscled chest was covered with a mat of dark hair that tapered before disappearing below the towel that rode low on his lean hips. What she could see of his legs looked equally muscled and hairy. He even sported tattoos on one muscled upper arm, which only made him more dangerously sexy looking. But it wasn’t his body that was making her speechless. It was his dark eyes and the way he was looking at her. It was exactly the kind of look a man gives a woman when he wants her and there is nothing in the world that’s going stop him. It was a heart-stopping, pulse-pounding gaze generated by a million watts of energy. Passionate…smoldering…forbidden. The kind of gaze a woman can only hope to see once in a lifetime, and for her, it was happening with Roman Vasquez. Wow. “April?” he said harshly, sounding dazed by her presence. “I’m sorry…I didn’t realize…” she started, not understanding, not believing what was happening between them. In an instant everything she’d thought of him, everything she’d ever despised in him, vanished, replaced with a heated energy that took her by surprise. It raced through her body, igniting each fiber of her being. Flames of desire licked every square inch of her, and she didn’t doubt for a minute that he could see it in her eyes. There was no more denying she was strongly attracted to him. For months she’d tried to hide it, but it was useless to keep up the facade. Her feminine instincts had known what she wanted long before the rational 21
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part of her mind admitted it. Like a predatory male, he crossed the room without words, his dark gaze never leaving her questioning one. He tossed the towel he had been using to dry his hair onto the sofa and slowly took her left hand, releasing the paperweight from her grasp to gently replace it onto the table without a sound. With her trembling hand firmly clasped in his, he studied it—sans her engagement ring— before raising his eyes to hers. He shook his head in denial. “Oh, man, this is really a bad idea,” he growled, bitter regret echoing in his voice while he debated his next move. His fiery gaze traveled over her expectant features. Wavering, he slowly relented and angled his head to tentatively lower his firm lips to hers, his touch uncertain and forcibly restrained. That lasted all of three seconds before he swiftly gave in all the way, deepening the kiss, capturing her lips fully with a greedy, sensual power that was nothing short of mind-blowing. To April, being this near to him was overpowering, wild, and terrifying all at the same time. Inside her head it seemed a wild rock band blared while a million fireworks exploded. Crazy. Unthinkable. This cannot be happening. He kissed her passionately, fiercely, and all out. Definitely a where-the-hell-have-you-been-all-my-life kind of kiss that made her melt against him while he pulled her into his strong embrace. His tongue swept the sweetness of her mouth, offering her everything he had. He held nothing back while he continued to show her how much he wanted her. In turn she placed a shy hand against his bare chest, feeling him tense slightly at her light touch. He was warm and hard and felt better than anything she’d experienced before in her life. The taste of him, the wicked feel of his tongue sliding against hers, was equally erotic and sensual; undeniably the sexiest experience of 22
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her adult life. He pulled back and gazed into her eyes for a split second before capturing her mouth again in a forceful move. She shivered and moaned in surrender as he nipped at her bottom lip before plunging his tongue into her mouth again to tease hers in a dirty, arousing way. More than willing at this point, she kissed him back with everything she had, feeling as if the world was spinning out of control. A fierce growl escaped him as she moved one hand up his chest and over his broad shoulder to tangle in his silky, damp black hair. Meanwhile, her other hand remained captured between them, held firmly within his. She never knew kissing someone could be so explosive…so powerful…so perfectly sinful. “Roman! We had an agreement! Or did you forget about our wedding?”
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Chapter Two The high-pitched shrill of a woman’s voice was like a bucket of icy cold water thrown over them. Mortified, April quickly untangled herself from Roman’s warm muscled body and jumped back. Shaking and unsure, she flinched while he swore under his breath in Spanish, his dark eyes even more dangerous looking as he fought to control his breathing. Releasing her, he turned away to raise a dark winged brow at the tall, thin, and exquisitely dressed female who was now fuming in his living room. “Justine, didn’t you ever hear of knocking?” “Knock? The door was ajar, so I let myself in. And don’t give me attitude. We had an agreement. Obviously you can’t seem to live up to it, even on the day we were supposed to sign the damn pre-nup papers. I was expecting more from you Roman Vasquez. In light of what I just witnessed, you can find another female who doesn’t care if you make a laughingstock of her. The deal is off. I have a reputation to maintain in this city even if you don’t. You can keep your damned money.” Roman Vasquez sighed wearily, obviously bored with the woman’s speech. “Justine, don’t overreact.” April moved to the far side of the living room, in awe not only of the way the other woman was speaking, but of how much her outfit must have cost. She was the quintessential posh Manhattan society woman. Designer all the way, from her fur wrap to her killer high heels. Her sleek black hair was equally styled, and her makeup looked like it was 24
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airbrushed on. Garish red lipstick and nails completed the over-the-top look. What Roman Vasquez saw in her was anyone’s guess. The seething female gave him a deadly look. “Overreact? Hmph! Well, how is this for overreacting?” As the woman stomped out of Roman Vasquez’s loft, he did nothing but storm to the door, closing it behind her with a final ear-splitting slam. She’d expected him to at least deny what was going on between them and go after her. Instead he turned and stalked back to her with a thunderous look on his face. April wrung her hands, waiting for him to tell her to get out. She wouldn’t blame him if he did. She’d done nothing to stop him and in fact had jumped all over the guy the minute he started kissing her. Without warning he grabbed her left hand and brought it up in front of them both, looking from her ring-less finger to the shocked blush that covered her face. “Where the hell is your engagement ring?” Speechless, she shrugged. “I…I took it off.” “But why?” She pulled her hand out of his larger one and took a step back, putting some much needed distance between them. “That’s for me to know and well, frankly, for you not to.” He laughed coldly and placed his hands on his lean, towel-clad hips. “Now that’s the Miss Sutton I know. Welcome back.” She sighed heavily as her temper flared. “All right, if you must know—my fiancé decided to marry some Swedish model while in Paris, and somehow forgot he was already engaged to me. Now that I think of it, you two seem to have a lot in common.” She couldn’t believe the weird turn of events her evening was suddenly taking. 25
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Ignoring her barb, he instead looked very satisfied at her explanation, even having the audacity to break out into a heart-stopping smile. “Good—then you can marry me.” She blinked rapidly and felt her mouth drop open and then close with a snap. Hot blood rushed through her ears, her heart pounded like a jackhammer, and she had the distinct feeling she was very close to fainting. “Ignoring that last bizarre statement—it’s time for me to go,” she stated hotly. Beyond flustered, she started to move around him, only to find herself captured once again in his strong grip. “Not so fast,” he ordered, pulling her back toward him. “I’ve got forty-eight hours to get married, and my last prospect just dumped me. Since you’re partially responsible, I think the least you can do is marry me.” Of all the nerve! The man couldn’t be serious. She didn’t doubt his sex life was a constant rotation of women. No way was she going to be the next one. Yeah, good speech, April but did you see his abs? She ignored the voice in her head and played innocent. “How is it my fault that you got dumped by your fiancé?” “Well, for starters you were standing there in that dress, with no ring on your finger, looking at me…like…you know…” His voice faltered slightly as he tried to explain his way out of kissing her. She hid an unexpected grin at his sudden discomfort. “Like?” she prompted. “I can’t think of any other way to explain it— kinda like you wanted to hookup.” Hookup? Did he really have to use that word tonight? “That is so not true,” she protested, knowing it was an outright lie. “And I really don’t know what just happened here between us, but believe me, it will never be repeated. So if you don’t 26
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mind, let’s split the difference and forget the whole thing.” She made another move to leave. He stepped in front of her and blocked her perfect exit. “Where do you think you’re going?” Frustrated, she straightened her back and glared at him. “Okay, that’s it. This has been sort of weirdly fun, but I’m really leaving. Good luck with your women problems, Mr. Vasquez. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a replacement.” She started to move and paused. “Oh, by the way, the contracts you wanted are over there.” She stomped around him, and snatched up her wrap and purse from the coffee table, intent on salvaging her girl’s night out with the help of a couple of extra strong cocktails and some serious girl talk with her best friend. She made it exactly three feet toward the foyer before his deep voice stopped her. “Contrary to what you might think, Miss Sutton, I don’t have time to find another woman to marry. If I don’t get hitched in the next two days, I’ll lose a very large endowment fund entrusted to me from my grandfather. I have to tie the knot before my thirtyfifth birthday on New Year’s Day or the trust fund will resort to my step-grandmother’s side of the family.” April paused and rolled her eyes, at this point more than irked he should think himself and his money problems all-important. Crossing her arms in a defiant pose, she looked back to where he stood. She tried her best to ignore how lethally sexy he looked still dressed only in a towel, along with that determined expression riding on his handsome features. “First of all, you must be joking. And secondly, if you’re not, I’m sure there must be another ‘Justine’ out there willing to marry you for the right price. I’m also sure you can live without your grandfather’s money. I know for a fact you’re 27
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financially secure.” She was about to turn and leave—for good this time—when his voice stopped her again. “That money will be used to support community projects and a six-floor hospital wing exclusively for children with cancer.” April stopped mid-stride. At his softly spoken words a chill ran down her spine, and she found herself turning to glance back to where he still stood, poised like some Greek god with his hands on his hips in a forceful stance. “What did you say?” His narrowed eyes never left hers as he moved toward her. “It’s a large trust fund. I’ll be able to build six hospital floors solely for children with cancer. Some floors will have hospital rooms for the kids and the usual. Other floors will have apartments available for the families to stay in, rather than expensive hotel rooms, while their sick child is treated. If the children are able, they can stay with their parents in the apartments while undergoing treatment. There will be restaurants, indoor playgrounds, as well as an outdoor terrace playground, movie theater…the funds are badly needed. Now do you see why I need that money?” April was speechless. What he was proposing was incredible. It went beyond what was expected of someone with that kind of money and power. “But what do you get out of it?” she asked tentatively, sure there was a loophole somewhere in the deal. A flash of disappointment mixed with surprise crossed his face. “Uh…actually nothing, I guess, except the satisfaction my step-cousins will never get their greedy hands on the money. It will be put to good use instead of squandered away on playthings they think they need for their lifestyle. I’ll also get the satisfaction of knowing my grandfather’s hard-earned money will do some good for others.” 28
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“What hospital will benefit from this?” He raised an eyebrow at her question. “Saint Vincent’s.” She nodded, her mind racing ahead at the prospect. “Some of us at the law firm volunteer at Saint Vincent’s in the children’s ward. We read books and play games with the kids staying there.” “Then you understand how important this is?” he asked, watching her closely as she thought over his proposal. “Yes…but this is totally insane. You and I getting married?” “I’ll offer you the same contract and amount as I did Justine.” Her head started to spin with the realization. “Oh, I wouldn’t need to be paid to marry you. I mean, you could give the money to charity. Or better yet, use it to start a library for the kids at the hospital.” “Then you’ll marry me?” he asked smoothly, so sure of himself, besides making the situation sound completely simple and matter-of-fact. She knew otherwise. Legal situations were never as simple as they seemed. “What about taking your grandfather’s will to court to see if there’s a possibility of overturning the conditions of the will? Have you tried that at least? Or better yet, maybe you could ask for a delay in the will being executed. Surely there must be another way?” “Believe me, I’ve already done everything I could to get around the marriage clause,” he stated. “It’s airtight. My grandfather was a very astute businessman. If I choose to fight the conditions of his will, it could take another year. I already have this building project in the works. Putting it on hold would mean a substantial loss, not only in funds for the building, but in wages for the construction workers. I’ve already secured permits and materials, 29
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and the hospital is counting on the addition. My company has already given them a completion date.” “People really don’t do things like this,” she murmured, still in shock. “It’s straight out of the dark ages.” “I’m running out of time, and it’s my only way to get the money.” April felt something tug at her heart. She walked to the other side of the room to obtain some space and think rationally. Conflicted, she glanced down to the snowy street below and to the buildings across the way, pondering how she’d gotten herself into such a mess. If she walked away from him, it could mean no hospital wing. If she stayed and married him…she rolled her eyes again and groaned in fateful resolution. She was too softhearted for her own good. Roman Vasquez was playing on her weakness—knowing she couldn’t stand to have those sick children going without. The man didn’t fight fair. She didn’t hear him approach her until she felt his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him. “I’ll give you a few minutes to think about it while I dress. Promise me you won’t leave?” he asked in a so-not-him humble tone, his large hands gentle on her arms. Speechless and bewildered, she nodded, watching as he walked down a long hall and disappeared into a bedroom, the rock music still blaring from the same direction. A few minutes to think about it? Was the man crazy? Did he really expect her to decide whether or not to marry someone in two minutes?
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Chapter Three Roman closed his bedroom door and leaned against it. He felt physically and mentally drained for the first time in his life. The woman in the next room had turned him upside down. His gut twisted painfully at the memory of their kiss. Not your best move, dude. No kidding, asshole. What the hell made him kiss her like that? For months he’d played it cool, ignoring the feelings he had whenever he was around her. But tonight he’d lost it big time. He’d acted like some hormonal jerk out to score with the first chick through the door. He turned off the music, in need of some quiet to think about what had happened. Did I seriously ask the woman to marry me? He groaned and ran his hands down his face, filled now with self-loathing at his irresponsible action. He could have easily taken the longer route and had his grandfather’s will contested in court and absorbed the monetary loss, or scrambled to find some other female to fill the temporary role of his fake bride. But no—instead he impulsively convinced himself and her that marriage was the only course of action. And he knew exactly why he was forcing her into agreeing—his damn male ego. In his demented mind, there was a red-hot burning need to salvage his male pride where she was concerned. The woman had tormented him for the past six months. Somewhere deep inside of him, in the very depths of his existence, he needed to extract some form of revenge for all that torture. 31
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At the same time, he had to acknowledge his behavior tonight was crazy, reckless, and definitely unlike anything he had ever done before. Or maybe I just need to prove to myself what a stupid asshole I am. With Justine the deal was cut and dried. She’d been nothing more than an old acquaintance in need of financial help. In turn, he got the use of her name on a marriage certificate. No relationship, no sex, just a contract marriage that would last until the hospital wing was completed. Both parties going their separate ways afterward. For her help and discretion, Justine received a sizable amount to cover her overcharged credit cards and keep her happy for years to come. At least that had been the plan. Obviously, from the jealous way Justine had overreacted, the woman must have had expectations of moving their deal along to include some added benefits that didn’t involve clothing. Definitely news to me. Ugh, women. He grabbed a pair of boxer briefs, pulling them on as he tried to refocus. This marriage condition had only been a minor flaw in his building plans when he was dealing with Justine. Now with April Sutton, things were much more complicated. Like screwed-up complicated. It scared the hell out of him. Man, what was I thinking? His stomach pitched and rolled again. He pushed the edgy feeling away and rummaged through his closet, grabbing a shirt and jeans, shaking his head in disbelief over what had happened between him and his lawyer’s assistant. Even in the law office, with her prim outfits and pulled-back hair, he’d felt a strong attraction—one he’d fought for six long months. But tonight, he hadn’t stood a chance after she walked in. She’d blown him away with her skimpy, figure-hugging 32
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red dress that showed off her rack in a seriously good way. Along with the way her hair was all tousled and loose in a tease-me manner. Like a total moron he’d stood there, feeling weak in the knees, getting totally hard, while a tight lump had formed in his throat. At the same time, he’d managed to acquire a big empty space where his brain should be. He couldn’t explain it, even if he tried. A cold chill ran down his spine, and he had the feeling that his life was never going to be the same. Which was absolutely crazy. The plan was simple. The woman was agreeing to sign a business contract. It was purely business. Business? Good luck with that plan. Second-guessing himself, he sighed heavily with frustration and pulled on his jeans. Obviously he’d underestimated April Sutton. She wasn’t anything like what he had her pegged for. Tonight, standing in his apartment, he found her intriguing, definitely a little more than exciting, besides smoking hot. No doubt about it. There was much more to April Sutton than an awesome ass in a gray tweed skirt. **** April sank her derriere thankfully and wearily onto the couch as a warm fire crackled in the modern hearth. She felt as if she had made a deal with the devil. She touched a shaky hand to her lips. They were tingling and hot. As was the rest of her body— scorching red hot. Besides that, her head was spinning like she’d had one-too-many Dirty martinis. Kissing Roman Vasquez on its own was more than enough for a female to handle. The prospect of marrying him was out of this world and bordered on bizarre. It was beyond the realm of what she could process on a normal day. She took a deep, uneven breath and tried to go 33
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over the pros and cons in her head. Pro: it’s a noble cause, the man is being totally selfless by helping others, and if a girl has to do a shotgun wedding, it doesn’t hurt if the guy has an awesome set of abs and killer smile that makes me want to get naked 24/7 with him. Con: he’s a total jerk. It was useless how many times she went over the lists. The outcome was always in favor of doing what was right. Even if it didn’t make sense. Was Roman Vasquez a sinner or saint? She couldn’t decide. What he was proposing was over the top. Even for him. But the results would be worthwhile. Still, she couldn’t help wondering why he would do such a selfless thing. Could a man like him actually have no further agenda than to do some good for others? Intrigued, she considered the concept, thinking maybe she’d misjudged him. What she did know for sure was the more she got to know Roman Vasquez, the more he confused her. From the brief time she’d spent with him at the office, she’d thought of him as having a rather dark personality—a hidden determination to get whatever he wanted out of life without a second thought to anyone else. But the minute she stepped foot in his apartment, everything changed; her preconceived ideas about him thrown out the window. Now she didn’t know what to make of him. So where did that leave her? Right back to asking if she could stand to be married to him in exchange for knowing sick children and their families would have the kind of care and state-of-the-art facilities they needed. Before she could make a decision, there were questions she needed answered. Her legal background kicked into high gear as she deliberated the situation. First of all, they’d have to lay down 34
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some ground rules, and secondly, if she accepted his crazy last-minute proposal, she would have to make sure everything was on the up and up before signing her single status away. “You look like you could use a drink,” Roman announced, interrupting her thoughts. She bolted upward and perched on the edge of the sofa. Feeling like she was strung tighter than a rope, she watched him cross the room and fought a sudden rush of anticipation in response to his presence. He’d dressed in a black button-down shirt and left it pulled out over faded jeans. The rumpled shirt emphasized his broad shoulders, and the dark jeans showcased his long muscled legs. His damp hair looked as if he’d only run a quick hand through it to tousle the short-cut style. Messy, un-ironed shirt aside, he still looked handsome and definitely dangerous. “A drink would be great,” she replied. “An explanation of this evening would be better.” He laughed out loud at her sarcasm and walked over to a cabinet to pour two whiskeys. “That’s one thing l like about you, Miss Sutton. You never fail to throw a punch when you have the chance.” Swiveling on the couch, she leaned over the back to face him directly. “What in the world does that mean?” He walked toward her and handed her a tumbler of amber liquid. “Over the past few months I’ve noticed your hidden humor whenever I’ve had the…uh…the pleasure of being in your company.” A mysterious smile lurked at the corners of his mouth. “Lucky you,” she bantered back. “Now can you please tell me exactly what I’m getting myself into if I do marry you? Keep it brief and to the point. You know—the good, the bad, and the ugly.” He quirked a brow in response and took a seat next to her on the sofa, downing half his whisky 35
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before answering. “Would you like to look over the contract I had Henry draw up for Justine and myself?” “It would be a start.” He leaned over and grabbed the package from the coffee table, handing it to her. With unsteady hands she opened the envelope and slid the packet of papers out. As always she scanned through the legal jargon quickly, cutting to the important aspects of the contract: a marriage of convenience, payment, and a date of termination. “Do you think you can agree to this?” he asked, watching her closely as she scanned the document. Tonight he was so close she could smell his scent, which was a simple mix of woodsy soap and sexy-hot male. She frowned, and told herself to grow up. “Isn’t there some other woman you can talk into doing this? Perhaps a coworker or maybe a former girlfriend? Even a nice, available female stalker? Anybody?” “Sorry. They’re all busy for the holidays.” She frowned again in frustration and went back to the contract. “Something wrong?” She finished reading the last section of the document and shrugged her shoulders. “No, it’s just all very cold and unfeeling. But I guess the end result is what’s important.” She thought how absolutely ironic it was that instead of planning a real wedding with Todd, she was considering signing a contract with Roman Vasquez for a fake marriage with a termination date. “If you don’t like something in the contract I can have it changed,” he offered quickly. She sighed with resignation. “No, everything is in order. Except the payment. You can delete that and my name will have to be inserted,” she instructed, willing herself not to cry in front of him. 36
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“Then will you marry me?” April looked up from the papers, directly into his dark eyes. His proposal of marriage hung in the air between them as she debated her answer. “Yes…I’ll marry you,” she whispered, her voice soft and a little unsure. Oddly enough, he didn’t look much better. In fact, Roman Vasquez looked as if he was suddenly a little green around the gills. “Uh, yeah…good…good choice,” was all he replied, his husky voice sounding like he was now the unsure one. “Positive about that?” she questioned. “Yeah, why?” “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the look of fear in your eyes.” “Very funny. I have absolutely no doubts.” “Good for you, because I have tons of them.” As luck would have it, someone knocked on the door, giving him the excuse to momentarily leave her. “That would be the notary I scheduled to witness the signing,” he told her. April watched him walk away to answer the door. Are you crazy??? Yes? You said yes? Had she really agreed? So much for her questions being answered before she made a decision. Or for laying ground rules and seeing if there was some other way to work out this deal. Her only excuse was for some totally insane reason, she trusted him completely on this matter. Roman Vasquez may be a player and fast-track mogul in New York City, but she saw the sincerity in his eyes when he talked about the hospital wing. She would just need a little faith that everything was going to work out for the best. Even if it didn’t make a lick of sense. She rose and wandered over to the wall of windows, glancing out at the twinkling nightscape of Manhattan. An hour ago she was in her apartment, bemoaning her single status and plotting to find 37
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some hunk to spend the holidays with. Be careful what you wish for, since it may come true. Her mom used to tell her that all the time when she was growing up. Tonight she could easily see her mother’s point of view. Lost in thought, she watched the snow flitter by the window and tried to find some reason for what was happening. Maybe it was simply fate. Or maybe destiny had intervened and was responsible for her life being turned upside down. …or maybe it was just very bad luck. “April?” Roman requested, motioning for her to join him and the other gentleman standing next to him. She crossed the room, conscious of her host’s compelling gaze. “Hello,” she offered, moving to shake the other man’s hand as Roman made introductions. “April Sutton, this is John Mitchell, the notary who will witness and document our contract,” he explained. April nodded and smiled uneasily to the welldressed businessman. With nothing left to do, Roman spread the contract papers out before them on the glass dining table. Deleting the payment and Justine’s name, Roman then inserted hers, while the notary watched and then initialed the changes. He observed as first April signed the modified contract, and then Roman. Taking his official notary stamp, the man emblazoned the papers with his seal and then congratulated them both before closing his briefcase and bidding them goodnight. The apartment door closed with a thud as April jumped nervously, turning to watch Roman walk back to her from the entry hall. He looked extremely satisfied, self-assured, and very pleased with himself. “Well, I guess its official…you’re mine.” 38
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Chapter Four April felt her body go hot and then cold at his words. “I hate to tell you this—but you’re not my type.” Instead of looking mad, the man had the nerve to appear amused by her statement. He stopped in front of her. “And what type are you attracted to?” he demanded, his warm brown eyes traveling over her from head to toe. Annoyed at the mischievous grin that lurked on his mouth, she wished she had enough willpower to leave. Instead she stood glued to the floor, almost melting from the seductive, teasing tone of his voice. “My type?” she repeated, thinking about what she wanted and never got from Todd. “That’s easy: a man who is always a gentleman, who can be faithful, loving, and one who definitely wants children.” He frowned on cue. “Yep. You’re right. I am not your type.” She laughed outright at his admission, loving the look of pure horror that crossed his face. “Now that you know my perfect man, you can rest assured that I’ll uphold my end of the contract—the part in section eight: sexual relations may be abstained from.” He looked anything but pleased at her declaration. “Of course. The contract.” “You don’t look happy?” she taunted. “Didn’t you read section eight?” “Yeah, I read section eight,” he announced gruffly. “Fine. Good. Then this deal should work out 39
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very nicely. You go your way and I go mine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner date.” April made it two feet before he grabbed her arm, pulling her around to face him. “You’re joking, right?” he declared, not letting go as she tried to pull away. “You just signed a contract for our impending marriage. Now you’re going out on a date?” She sighed heavily. “Oh please! It’s not like we’re really getting married and in love. You can call me tomorrow and let me know the when and where. I promise to be on time, say my I do’s, and then we can go our separate ways until the hospital wing is completed. Did I miss something?” she inquired. He frowned at her with a stormy expression. “You missed a lot.” “Like what?” “Like picking out a wedding dress, rings, flowers, license. Not to mention telling our families we’re getting married.” Incredulously, she stared back at him, her eyes widening with each item. “You can’t be serious!” “I’m very serious,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing as he moved closer. “Like I said before— you’re mine now.” She resisted the urge to stomp on his bare foot with one of her stiletto heels. “But you weren’t going to do all these things with that Justine woman. Why bother with all the rituals of a real wedding with me, for goodness’ sake?” “Because our situation is different. Justine was going to live abroad during our contract. You’re here in New York. So we have to work things differently. Make them a little more convincing.” She stamped her foot in anger for real now, barely missing his toes, and glared back at him. “You can’t just take over my life!” “I already have,” he announced, releasing her arm as he walked back to the coffee table to pick up 40
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his drink. “Oh, please,” she moaned, rolling her eyes with added drama. He downed his whiskey in one swallow before continuing to issue orders. “Why don’t you call your date and explain you can’t make it. We need time to talk about what will happen in the next few days. If you want, I can cook you dinner here, and we can work out the details.” Cook? He got her attention with that one. She quirked a well-arched brow. “You can cook?” Grinning slyly, he nodded. “Pasta with my own special marinara sauce or grilled steak with Portobello mushrooms in a red wine glaze. Take your pick.” The guy really knows how to charm his way around a woman. And it was working. April felt all the anger ease out of her as he stood there with that too perfect grin, which was surely his plan all along. She knew she was easily being duped into staying at his apartment. But she couldn’t help herself. There was just something so appealing about having a handsome Latin man cook dinner. Very tempting. Almost like hot-sweaty-sex tempting. “Pasta. If you don’t mind,” she stated quickly before she could talk herself out of it, watching as his grin turned into a full-out smile of satisfaction. “Good. Then maybe you should call your date and cancel for tonight while I get started on dinner,” he instructed smoothly. “Yes, I should…oh, I have Henry’s car and driver downstairs waiting for me,” she stammered, not sure what to do. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Thomas downstairs at the door and have him send the car away for the evening.” While Roman used the building intercom, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Emily. She 41
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picked up immediately, sounding oddly inquisitive as to why April wouldn’t be meeting her and her husband Jake and a few others for dinner. I should have texted. She also cross-examined April on her plans for the holiday weekend with relentless fortitude, while April made a mental note to clue her BFF into the fact she needed to turn off the lawyer mode after work hours. April quickly blamed both the missed dinner and the canceled trip to Florida on a heavy work schedule and ended the call. Truthfully, work really had caused her problems tonight. In more ways than one. She tossed her phone back into her handbag and walked over to the kitchen. Built galley style, the sleek stainless steel and all-black kitchen was a cook’s dream, outfitted with top-of-the-line everything. Taking a seat at the slate-topped island that divided the kitchen from the rest of the penthouse, she watched while he opened a bottle of red wine and poured a single glass. She knit her brows together. “Not joining me?” He reached inside his refrigerator and extracted a bottle of beer. “Nah, I’m not really big on wine.” She was still perplexed. “If you don’t drink wine, then why the dramatic wall of bottles?” He glanced over to the artsy looking cubes of wine and shrugged with indifference. “My sister had the interior designer put that in. She gets pissed if I don’t have a bottle handy when she visits. Of course I didn’t know about this until it was already installed and stocked.” She hid a smile at his disgruntled tone while accepting the glass of red he offered. She took a sip and let the velvety tones of the classic drink filter down as she observed him closely. He pulled out two pots from a cabinet and filled one with water. As he cooked, she took another long sip of her wine, marveling again at how incredibly hot the guy was. 42
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Granted his body was toned and muscled and very appealing to any female, but it was his face she found so fascinating. He was boldly handsome, but in a rough, almost rugged sort of way. His intimidating brow was strong and heavy over liquid brown eyes laced with tawny gold. The typical bedroom eyes, she thought to herself. His nose was equally strong and broad. His lips sculptured and firm, and when he frowned lines drove across his forehead and the sides of his mouth, making him even more sexy and tempting. She watched as he chopped tomatoes and added them to the delicious-smelling sauce that bubbled in a sauté pan. “You know, Mr. Vasquez, if you cleaned and did laundry, you’d make a good house husband.” A corner of his mouth raised in amusement. “Now there’s a thought. A man has to have some aspirations in life. I’ll keep your suggestion in mind.” He tossed a handful of oregano into his sauce. “So what will your family say when you tell them you married someone other than your ex-fiancé?” “Do you think it’s necessary to inform anyone? I don’t really see the point. Can’t this just be between you and me?” “No, it can’t,” he argued. “I’ll be informing my family soon after we marry.” “I’m sure we could easily keep this a secret. Trust me—I have no intentions of spilling the beans. Even if I did no one would believe me. Or worse, they’d think I lost my mind.” He raised a menacing brow at her. “You do know that couples meet and fall in love at first sight all the time and get hitched without telling anyone until afterward.” “You believe in that?” “What?” “Romance—love at first sight. You actually think that happens?” 43
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He looked uneasy and took a long drink of his beer before answering fully. “Yeah, I guess I do believe in it.” “Has it ever happened to you?” He looked painfully cornered now. “You think I’d admit that? I’m a guy. Guys never cave and admit to something like that unless they’re being tortured, or maybe two seconds from dying.” “Then I’ll take it that only in theory does ‘love at first sight’ exist.” “I never said that.” “Then back up your grand idea with some proof.” He flashed a smug grin. “Okay. Take my father and mother; they met and married in one week. A buddy of mine met his wife on an elevator in the Empire State building and they were in love by the time they reached the eighth floor. My doorman Thomas, he fell hard and fast in love and now he’s got five kids to prove it.” “And my fiancé fell for someone else on a threeday business trip,” she murmured, the words out of her mouth before she could think twice. “I never said love at first sight was perfect.” “That’s one way to look at it,” she countered, thinking of a way to get off the subject. “So why exactly did your grandfather make that stipulation in his will about you being married before your thirty-fifth birthday? As your soon-to-be wife, I hope you don’t mind me asking?” He eyed her and shrugged carelessly while he dumped a container of fresh pasta into the boiling water. “It was because my grandfather always had to be right. I told him as a teenager that I would never get tied down and married. He argued that it would be beyond my control someday, and when I met the right woman I would beg her to marry me. To insure that he was right, he put that damned clause in his will.” 44
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“Oh,” was all she could say, shocked but not surprised that a Vasquez man had to be right even after death. “So, do you have anyone who will want to know? Family members or friends?” he asked again, sounding curious about her private life as he sliced a fragrant, crusty loaf of French bread. “Only my older sister. Although she’s on vacation with her husband in Mexico. They won’t be back for another week,” she told him, trying to think of who else would be shocked to find out she was marrying Roman Vasquez. “Oh, my gosh! What will Henry think?” Roman looked up from the two plates of spicy pasta he was dishing up. “Your boss? Tell him I was using Justine to make you jealous and to get you to say yes. That we’ve been dating on and off in secret for the past few months and decided to make it official.” “That’s easy for you to say,” she murmured, knowing Henry would never buy her story. Neither would Emily. What in the world was she thinking when she signed those papers and agreed to this madness? She groaned inwardly, noticing he was watching her. “I guess I’ll think of something to tell everyone.” “Marrying me is that bad?” he inquired, his tone serious as he handed her a steaming plate of pasta. He must have heard the disparaging tone in her voice, since he actually looked wounded for a split second. A thread of guilt weaved through her, but she immediately pushed it away. “Like I said—anyone who knows me will think I’m out of my mind.” “Thanks,” he grumbled. “You’re great for the ego.” He took his plate and bottle of beer and headed for the glass dining table. She followed with her own plate and drink and 45
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thanked him as he graciously helped her with her chair before taking his. Closet romantic and gentleman too? This evening is just full of surprises. She added salad to her plate and forced a bite of her pasta, while trying to act like this was a normal evening meal. To distract from the fact she was having a home-cooked meal with her future husband, she took in the penthouse view of the neighboring buildings lit for the evening; the adjacent lofts and apartment windows displaying Christmas trees and seasonal decorations. At the same time, a delicate swirl of snowflakes glided by the window, making the table for two cozy and inviting. Eagerly she took another bite of her pasta. The Italian-inspired dish was unbelievably fantastic, and she wondered if he ever cooked for any of the other women in his life. She immediately stamped out the question. “I noticed you cheated on dinner. The pasta was precooked, and I saw you put a can of something in the sauce,” she stated, liking the spicy combination he’d whipped up in five minutes. “What? Your ex-fiancé could have done better?” he bantered back, watching her from across the table. “Todd? You’ve got to be kidding.” She laughed; the image of her ex-fiancé cooking for her beyond ridiculous. “Ordering takeout was beneath him.” “Sounds like a fun guy,” he grunted, digging into his food with gusto. For the first time in months April found herself glad to be rid of Todd and his self-indulgent behavior. The sadness she’d carried around with her seemed to vanish into thin air. Like a dead weight lifted off her chest. “Thank you for cooking dinner. It’s wonderful,” she murmured, feeling somewhat self-conscious as he continued to stare at her from across the table. 46
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“You’re welcome,” he said quietly. “But we should get back to planning the details of the wedding. My birthday is on Sunday, New Year’s Day. That means tomorrow on Friday we’ll have to get a license and all the other things needed. We’ll be married on Saturday, New Year’s Eve.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, at least I know I’ll have a guaranteed date to ring in the New Year.”
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Chapter Five April snuggled under the covers, a man’s deep laughter ringing in her ears, as she fought against waking. Ultimately she knew it was useless to avoid what was ahead and pried her eyes open with a moan, only to pull the comforter up and over her aching head. Dull morning light from a gray sky filtered through the sheer drapes into her bedroom. Reluctantly she tossed off the covers and sat up. From her bed she could see snowflakes still floating silently past the window as they had the night before. She released a long yawn. For some reason she seemed depleted of energy. Through hazy slits she peered at her bedside clock, already having guessed the hour. As usual she woke early from habit, wishing this one time she could have slept in and avoided, even a little bit longer, what the day was to bring. She pulled herself out of bed and made her way to her small kitchen. She flipped on the radio to the station playing continuous holiday tunes. The jolly disposition of the DJ, announcing Michael Bublé’s version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” as the next tune, thankfully put her in a better mood while she started the coffeemaker. She watched the kitchen appliance mindlessly, her thoughts drifting back to the night before. After going over all the details and plans, included her taking today off from work so they could obtain a marriage license and she would have time to look for a “romantic” wedding dress, Roman had driven her back to her apartment. He’d 48
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even walked her to her door and waited until she was safely inside before he left. But not before he badgered and ordered and demanded through every last detail that was to be their wedding. She poured herself a cup of fragrant hazelnut coffee, adding a ton of cream and sugar, and padded in her pajamas over to switch on the twinkle lights across the mantel and the Christmas tree; along with the gas fireplace. Comforting gold flames leapt and danced over fake logs. She shuffled over to her new sofa, sinking down onto it in a heap and pulled a cozy throw over her lap. She now wished she’d protested a little more when Roman insisted on getting his way on everything. At least she’d stood her ground on the subject of a wedding gown. Not that she cared one bit what kind of mock wedding they were going to have. But still, a woman had to have some say when it came to what kind of dress she was going to wear to her own wedding. A blanket of toasty air wrapped around her as the fireplace wafted heat into the living room of her tiny apartment. She took a long drink of her coffee and smiled wickedly over the rim of her china cup, remembering the look of agony on his face when she informed him she would be picking out her own wedding dress. She’d sweetly reassured him it wouldn’t be too fluffy and the train would be less than twenty feet long. Somehow he managed to keep from voicing his opinion. She had to give him credit for that at least, even if he was a bossy monster about everything else. Eyeing the phone, she knew she would have to call Henry soon and explain she needed a personal day. She hoped he would buy her flimsy excuse. Then she’d have to shower, head out to find suitable wedding attire, and get back before he came to 49
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collect her to go for the wedding license. Tomorrow they would marry, and afterward she would be staying at his apartment Saturday evening in order to make everything look convincing. Her thoughts strayed back to the night before in his loft. Back to the sexy kiss they’d shared. For her it had been sensual, exciting, and evocative. On the other hand, for him, it’d been another kiss in a long line of forgotten ones. Especially given that the man had been the perfect host the rest of the night, never once acting like he wanted a repeat of what happened between them earlier. Half of her was overly relieved with that fact—the other half disparagingly disappointed. But what did she expect? That he was going to throw her down and have wild sex after she signed the contract? Okay, so maybe I would have been kind of “into” it if he had. Right. More like all over the man. And c’mon, you have to admit the old-fashioned guy stuff he did last night like holding chairs, opening doors, and walking a girl to her apartment building was really sweet too. Disappointed she was succumbing to his charming side, she headed to the shower, where she used the peppermint candy cane body wash she’d received from her secret Santa at work. Within the steamy shower it smelled like Christmas at its best. At the same time, she couldn’t help but go over the plus and minuses regarding the situation. Only instead of deciding if she should marry him, she was considering—like some sex-deprived old maid—the hookup factor between them. Plus: He’s totally hot. Minus: The man is used to stunning females who know how to play the game. I don’t have a clue how to get into the game—let alone play it. Would I even 50
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know what to do with a man like that if I ended up naked with him? Plus: I can’t forget how he looked at me before kissing me. A definite look of hot desire— Minus:—mixed with anguished regret, like the guy couldn’t make up his mind if he was into me or not. Double Minus: Leave it to me to find the only hot guy in a towel willing to take time to weigh his options first before kissing a woman. What is it with me and men? In self-defeat she stepped out of the shower and dried off. After blow-drying her hair and leaving it loose and cascading, she applied light makeup to her even features. She’d only pulled on a pair of lacy panties and matching bra in a soft lavender color when her cell phone rang. She answered it happily, expecting Emily. Her heart stalled when she heard the deep male voice on the other end. “This is Roman Vasquez.” “Oh…ah…hi,” she squeaked, feeling her heart restart and then pound uncontrollably as her body temperature rose. “You’re not shopping yet, are you?” His voice was raspy and very husky sounding. “No. Actually, I’m home and just got out of the shower. I’m not even dressed yet,” she admitted, glancing down at her lacy bra and matching panties. “Oh…well…good then,” he stammered, his voice oddly tight. “There’s been a change in plans. So for the wedding dress, get something light, and pack a bag for tropical and warm. We’re leaving town. I’ll see you later. ” Abrupt, he hung up without any goodbye, which left her sitting dumbfounded on the bed, staring down at her cell phone clasped in her shaking hand. With no recourse, she did as ordered and scanned her tiny walk-in closet for her best summer items. 51
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She decided on two dresses, one for day and one for night, and a pair of cute flare jeans with two tops: one halter and the other a tight pink tank. She included an assortment of bras and panties and also grabbed a few pairs of sexy heels. She tossed everything onto her antique iron bed and suddenly remembered his description—tropical and warm. Without delay she added two swimsuits with coverups to the pile, and threw in the book she was reading from her bedside table. She smirked at the thought of marrying him and then sitting poolside with her book and fashion magazines—totally ignoring him for the rest of their trip. It would serve him right. She smiled smugly again and wished the big lug would have given her more clues as to where they were going. Some place warm? Marriage? Las Vegas. Although not tropical, it would be the typical place one would go to get married on the spur of the moment. She pulled on a black fitted v-neck cashmere sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans as she thought of traveling to Las Vegas. She’d never been there. Actually, she’d never been anywhere. During her childhood, her single mom hadn’t the funds for expensive trips for her and her sister June. After working her way through college, she’d accepted a position with Bressler and Bressler upon graduation. Her vacations afterward, the typical local sightseeing trips to Boston or Washington D.C. Even her vacations with Todd had been limited to the Hamptons. Both of them too busy working to travel much—with the exception of Todd’s ill-fated trip to Paris. Refusing to waste her day thinking of her ex, she instead called work, explaining to Henry that she desperately needed the day off for personal reasons. Strangely enough, he was more than 52
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enthusiastic about the idea, even reassuring her profusely that he would survive without her before he wished her a happy New Year. Extreme guilt followed. She pushed it away and called for a taxi, dreading the thought of also pushing her way through the multitudes of after-Christmas shoppers who would be jamming the stores for post-holiday sales. In ten minutes a taxi pulled up in front of her building and whisked her off through the steady morning snowfall. Since she’d refused Roman’s offer of buying a wedding dress, she automatically bypassed the pricier designer wedding boutiques and instead instructed the driver to take her directly to 34th street and Macy’s department store. April entered through the building’s main glass and wrought-iron doors. The iconic Herald Square store was busy and bustling as usual, shoppers hurrying to complete their appointed errands, while others milled about the makeup and jewelry counters festooned with full holiday trim. The longfamous flagship store was decked out with swags of holiday greens crisscrossing overhead, laced brightly with merry lights and shiny red ornaments, easily meant to send seasonal joy throughout even the most hardened consumer. Classic Christmas music still echoed overhead, and April felt the excitement of the holidays lingering in the perfumed scented air. With a giddy rush of energy, she rode the escalator to the appropriate floor of the bridal department and within minutes found herself standing in front of an impressive array of wedding finery. As the morning progressed she found everything she needed: dress, shoes and accessories for the wedding. She even found herself wondering what Roman Vasquez would think of the dress she’d picked out. It wasn’t the conventional wedding garb by a long shot. The Amy Kuschel bridal gown was 53
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modern in design, light and airy, and according to the two very knowledgeable sales attendants and the staff bridal consultant—all of whom happily guided her through the process—the dress looked downright stunning on her. By the time she got back to her apartment, she had only minutes to spare before he was scheduled to pick her up. With haste she packed one travel bag with her clothes and makeup, heels included: a small feat in itself. She was tucking her book and a fashion magazine into her oversized black patent handbag when the buzzer sounded from downstairs. With her heart pounding, she walked to the entry, pushed the button to let him in and waited nervously. A knock sounded on her door and she reluctantly opened it. A heated shiver of awareness raced down her spine, and her breath stilled as she looked at the tall, handsome man waiting on the other side of the threshold. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she’d last seen him. Still, she couldn’t help but feel like she was meeting him for the very first time: awkward, intense, and mind shattering all over again. “Morning,” he drawled, his gaze blatantly raking over her. She did the same, taking in his faded blue jeans and black suede jacket. His hair was wet and gleaming from the snowfall, his expression unreadable—and he looked absolutely overpowering. So much so that she had to catch her breath before answering him. “Good morning. I’m ready,” she told him, moving awkwardly to the side so he could enter her apartment. “My suitcase is over there, along with my garment bag with my...ah…the wedding dress.” She noticed he glanced over her small apartment quickly before resting his eyes on her luggage and accompanying garment bag draped over 54
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the back of the sofa. He looked down at her and raised a brow. “One suitcase and your wedding dress? That’s very efficient of you, Miss Sutton,” he commented, with a trace of mocking humor. She bristled. “We’ll only be gone a few days, so I didn’t think more things were needed. Besides, it’s not like I’m going on a vacation to actually enjoy myself.” Having no reply, he gave her a burning look, effortlessly picked up her bags, and turned to head out the door. April quickly slipped on her black furtrimmed coat, took her handbag and apartment keys, then double-checked that her fireplace, twinkle lights, and the Christmas tree were all turned off before she securely locked the apartment door. She raced down the steps and caught up to him outside. He tossed her suitcase into the back of his black SUV along with the garment bag and held the passenger door for her. She climbed in and murmured her thanks, wondering what made her snap at him. She knew he’d only been teasing her and hadn’t meant anything from his quick comment about her lack of luggage. She was being overly sensitive when it came to this situation. And she had a sneaking suspicion why: because she knew she wasn’t his first choice as a wife—albeit a temporary one—and she couldn’t help wanting to be. What is so wrong with wanting to be the first choice instead of the default bride? She pushed her typical female thoughts aside and kept quiet as he weaved through the busy city traffic. The vehicles ahead of them were creeping along, due to the snow that continued to fall lightly in the late morning hour. Even with the delays, in no time at all they were pulling into the bustling airport, making everything seem more real with each passing minute. 55
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Entering the airfield, he surprised her by turning his SUV in the direction where the private jets were hangered. After being checked by security, they drove past one hanger then another; too many to count. He finally pulled up next to one and hopped out, coming around to open her door and help her out before retrieving her bags. The compact jet waiting for them on the tarmac was black and silver and had a very small emblem on the side that she recognized as his construction company’s logo. The steps were already lowered, and a man exited the plane, came over to greet them and exchanged words with Roman, before driving away in the SUV they had just gotten out of. She swallowed hard, momentarily caught off guard by the fact they were to travel in private jet. With astonishment, she realized she was now in a whole new world of the private, privileged, and powerful. April took a deep breath to steady her rattled nerves while he led her toward the plane. Climbing the flight of steps now dusted with snow, she suddenly felt on the verge of a mini panic attack, wondering if she was crazy for doing what she was doing. Her breath became uneven, and her heart beat wildly under her coat and sweater. Roman Vasquez, his private jet, and his fast-paced lifestyle were overwhelming. And today was only the beginning. Inside the cozy aircraft she found luxury everything. The decor was black and sleek and reminded her of his apartment—and unnerved her all the more. She looked about uneasily. He instructed her to take off her coat, find a seat, and get buckled in before he disappeared into the cockpit. A few minutes later, with her coat removed and sitting securely buckled, she felt the jet engines come to life with a powerful hum and rumble. Now 56
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in even more of a panic, she became lightheaded as the plane started to move. Where is he? What is he doing? She felt almost hysterical, wishing he would come back. She took another deep, ragged breath as he finally reentered the cabin, a serious look on his face. “April, you’re pale,” he growled, sounding both annoyed and worried. Kneeling beside her, he took one of her clammy hands in his and raised his other to her cold cheek. “Don’t you like flying?” She shrugged weakly, her voice shaky. “I’m usually fine on big airplanes. I think it’s all catching up with me, and I didn’t have anything to eat yet today,” she murmured, feeling like a complete ninny. “Hold tight. As soon as we’re airborne I’ll get you something to eat,” he promised, taking the seat next to hers to buckle himself in. He surprised her once again when he reached over and took her cold hand in his large warm one, caressing her wrist with his thumb. His touch was feather light and sensual. It cured her nervousness all right—but replaced it with a shockwave of heat that raced through her already stressed body. “Feeling better?” he asked minutes later, as the plane leveled off, his brown eyes watching her closely. Better, but definitely warmer and aroused. Thank you very much. She pulled her wrist from his hand and nodded. “Yes. Much better…thanks,” she answered awkwardly, embarrassed by what had passed between them. To make matters worse, he then ran a hand over her forehead, used the back to caress her flushed cheek, and finally threaded it behind her neck to check her body temperature. “Man, you’re warm,” he breathed, glancing into her eyes as if looking for some kind of medical sign that she might be coming down with something infectious. “Sure you’re up to 57
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traveling? You’re kind of hot.” Same to you, mister—totally hot in my book. She batted his hand away and frowned convincingly. “Will you stop? I’m fine. And don’t look so worried. I promise not to keel over before you get me to the altar.” His expression carried a strained tinge to it, but he nodded amicably. “I’ll get you something to eat if you think you can handle it?” Now that’s what I like to hear. “Cooking for me again?” He stood and looked down at her. “It seems as if it’s becoming a habit,” he observed, releasing one of his lopsided grins. “Is a sandwich okay? I have the plane stocked with food from my favorite restaurant before takeoff.” She nodded, and he disappeared into the back of the jet’s mini-galley. In minutes he was back with a china plate containing a gourmet wrap sandwich, fresh strawberries, and a bottle of water. He handed her the plate and got one for himself. Once again he took the seat next to hers, which surprised her a bit—and unnerved her a lot. The jet contained six seats and a short couch. And Roman Vasquez chose to sit right next to her, stretching out his long jean-clad legs. She took a bite of her sandwich and slid a glance in his direction. He’d taken off his black suede jacket, and underneath he wore a plain dark gray T-shirt. His naturally tanned skin looked warm against the cold tones of the gray, and her mind flashed back to how muscular and warm his chest had felt as he kissed her. She looked away quickly and tried to refocus on her lunch. At the same time, she told herself to grow up and stop fantasizing about what had happened the night before. Obviously he had already forgotten it. She should too. 58
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Somehow she managed to finish half her sandwich while he wolfed down three effortlessly. By the time he took their plates, she felt much better and definitely more relaxed. She didn’t know if it was the food or if she was finally accepting what was to happen. Whatever it was, she was determined to enjoy the luxury of traveling in a private jet—and all the other perks that came with being Roman Vasquez’s temporary wife. He took the seat next to hers again, and she decided to take the opportunity to ask some questions. “Could you please tell me why our plans changed and exactly where we are headed?” He turned and glanced down at her, his brown eyes now tinted with impatience. “I thought I’d let it be a surprise,” he mocked, turning away to open his slim laptop computer. “I take it we’re done sharing? I have a ton of work to do.” “No, I’m not done,” she bit back, not liking his high-handedness. “I think I deserve to know where I’m going and why.” He released a long, tired sigh and turned to look at her again with a flat expression. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who doesn’t like surprises.” “Actually…you’re right. I don’t like surprises. I like—” “—to be in control,” he finished. “Sorry to tell you this, but I’m in control now.” “Fine, play Neanderthal man if you want. Can you at least tell me why the plans changed overnight? I thought we had the wedding details all worked out?” Surprisingly enough, he looked embarrassed for a brief moment before reluctantly answering. “Not every detail,” he dragged out. “All right, I guess I might as well confess. You’ll find out soon enough as 59
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it is.” He gave her another awkward glance. “My mother tried calling me last night and couldn’t get through so she called Alex, my assistant. He let it slip that I was busy signing my life away. I’m seriously rethinking his year-end bonus.” April blinked twice and her mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You mean your mother knows what’s going on? Are we going there now?” He released another tired sigh, shrugging his broad shoulders. “There was no way out of it. The minute my mother found out, she insisted we have the ceremony at her house. My first thought was no way in hell, but in hindsight, it will work to our advantage. It’ll look more legit with us getting married with family present.” April felt her temper rise with each word he spoke. “But…but…your family will expect us to act as if we’re…well…you know,” she sputtered, not believing how complicated things were getting. He looked at her innocently. “Like what? That we’re in love? And wanna get naked together every chance we get?” he teased, sounding like he was enjoying himself. “Yes! Exactly! ” she squeaked. “That wasn’t in the deal I signed last night.” Acting as if it happened to him every day, he smiled with a devilish quality. “Relax. Everything will work out. A few kisses, holding hands, and some hot looks. It’ll be easy.” “Speak for yourself,” she snipped back, loathing his cavalier attitude. He raised one dark winged brow at her disparaging tone. “Wow, you’re an incredible boost to a guy’s manhood.” “I’m not kidding. It was bad enough to think of fooling my friends and boss, but now we’re talking about your mother—and if I’m right, you probably have a ton of relatives and friends she’s already 60
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informed.” Her voice raised an octave higher with each word. “I never though I would actually have to meet your mother and sister. I thought we agreed only to inform them. That was all.” “What about your sister? The one on vacation in Mexico? Hadn’t you planned to tell her? Wouldn’t she be curious to meet me?” he asked, sounding nonplused about the whole thing. “Yes, but unlike you outright lying to your loved ones, I on the other hand was going to be honest and tell my sister about the marriage contract and why I signed it. Good God, I never planned to actually take you home to Ohio to meet my family.” He gave her a menacing frown. “Jeez, thanks.” His face softened slightly. “Will you relax and chill a little before you get yourself all hyper? Trust me, you’ll like my family. Besides, in reality, they were going to want to meet you eventually. I doubt I could put my mother and sister off for long. And once the media saw the record of our marriage listed, they were going to find out anyway, so we might as well get the whole family thing over with up front.” “Media?” she whispered weakly, feeling like she had jumped from the frying pan into the fire. “Yeah, the newspapers and blogs. If you don’t already know, I’m big gossip material. Trust me. The last thing I want is to end up in them. Usually I’m so busy working that I’m too boring to report on, which suits me fine. But the minute I go out on a date or go out around town, I find my photo splashed on the next day’s gossip page,” he admitted, sounding disgusted at the way his privacy was routinely invaded. “If you read the papers or blogs, you must have seen me in them.” “As fascinating as you think you are, Mr. Vasquez, I always skip over the gossip section, and only read the relevant parts of the paper or on-line news,” she deadpanned. 61
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With a long, weary sigh, he took both of his hands and dragged them down his face. “Oh, man,” he moaned in frustration. “Can we just stay on the subject of my mother?” She sat upright and simmered. “Please, by all means.” He eyed her closely before continuing. “Believe me, I was just as surprised as you are when my mother called me at six o’clock this morning and started right in about the wedding.” “Believe me—nothing about you surprises me anymore,” she said miserably. She wished she’d thought more before agreeing to his ridiculous marriage deal. “Well, everything about you surprises me,” he replied, his voice suddenly harsh and unrelenting. He ripped his dark gaze from her surprised one before rising to his feet in one swift movement. Speechless, she watched as he stomped over to take another seat, reopening his computer, but not before he grabbed his iPod and plugged the headphones into his ears with jerky, angry movements. In the relative quiet of the cabin, over the hushed whine of the jet engines, she could hear the faint sound of rock music while he began to type nonstop on his laptop, ignoring her completely. In turn she pulled out her book and pretended to read; she didn’t want him to think he was the only one who could disregard what had happened between them. After twenty frustrating minutes, she admitted defeat. It was useless to try and concentrate. Her mind was now preoccupied with wanting to know what lay ahead. She closed her book and looked out the window, seeing little of anything below. With no clues as to where they were going, she resolved 62
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herself to the fact that he wasn’t going to tell her anything. Arrogant, stubborn man. Not that it mattered. They were still getting married, whether it was in New York or somewhere tropical and warm. She glanced at him, at the same time he suddenly looked over to her, making her quickly look away. She felt absolutely ridiculous, like she’d been caught leering at the cute boy in class. Her face warmed on cue, and she knew she was blushing. So much for trying to act cool. He leaned across and tapped her on the shoulder, motioning to his headphones. She frowned and shook her head in refusal. She had her own MP3 in her handbag. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was to listen to his annoying head-banging rock music. She was peeved enough without being irritated by mind-numbing noise. Not to be outdone, he rose from his seat and plunked the earpieces into her ears, laughing as her eyes widened and her mouth opened with shock from the loud music. She tried to pull them out, but he held them in place while she glared into his dark eyes. In vain she attempted to pry his hands away, but he wouldn’t budge. Resigned to the fact he was going to torture her with rock music, she sat back and listened. Despite her protests, by the time the first song ended she was actually enjoying the music; easily appreciating the lead singer’s unique voice and the heartfelt lyrics. Cautiously he removed his hands, looking smug and satisfied. She gave him another grimace just for the fun of it. He retook his seat, and she studied him as he pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and perused through them with a scrutinizing eye. With fortitude she pulled her gaze from him and glanced 63
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out the window again, marveling in the intricate complexities of Roman Vasquez. He was a commanding force all on his own: badgering, annoying, irritating, and self-absorbed. And very surprising.
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Chapter Six April felt a tap on her shoulder, which changed to a full-out nudge as someone tried to wake her. She sat up and opened her lids, only to find she was staring into the dark force of Roman Vasquez’s eyes. His gaze captured hers for a full minute before he stood, a guarded look on his face as his mouth formed a tight line. “We’ll be landing soon. You have time to change into something cooler if you want. I put your bag in there.” He pointed to the back of the aircraft. She nodded and thanked him, wondering how long she’d been asleep. The last thing she remembered before nodding off was the music coming to an end, with the final song uncharacteristically slow and romantic. She made her way to the compact cabin, closed the door and glanced about the closet-sized room. Her bag sat on the narrow bed, and she pulled out one of the figurehugging sundresses she’d packed. Taking off her sweater and jeans, she also did away with her bra and quickly slipped on the soft peach-colored dress, smoothing it into place. With its built-in bra, all she had to do was adjust the tiny straps of the garment, turning to find a mirror on the back of the door. She next shook her head, tousling her long hair until it looked good. Out of her purse she retrieved her lipgloss and quickly applied a light coating before slipping on a pair of Steve Madden platform-heeled sandals. Once she’d packed up her things, she opened the door and walked out. He stood when she reentered the cabin. The 65
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proper gentlemen-like gesture wasn’t lost on her, and it made her aware of her own femininity. Or it might have been from the way his dark gaze was currently running over every square inch of her. She noted he swallowed hard and strangely enough, almost looked a little lost for a second. “Wow…that’s…that’s a really pretty dress.” His deep voice broke slightly before he cleared his throat. She gave him a quick smile. “Thank you.” She took her seat again and watched as he stared at her with a strange, almost painful expression. “Should I buckle up?” “Uh…yeah…that would be a good idea.” He finally pulled his gaze off her before retaking the seat across the aisle. Disappointed, she tried to shrug it off and told herself it didn’t matter where he sat. This was business, not personal. But the sting was still there. Refocusing on her travel anxiety, she realized they were beginning to descend. She also took note of how he occasionally glanced her way with a look of concern, obviously wondering if she was going to freak out on him as she had on takeoff. Not wanting to again seem like a nutcase, she took a deep breath and told herself she could handle it on her own. They approached the airport and she noted in the distance a line of tall swaying palm trees, white sand beaches, and the warm blue ocean beyond with its white curling waves. She took a guess they were somewhere in Florida. She also suddenly recalled his background information—his mother lived in Florida. More specifically, Miami. Within minutes the plane stopped and they were exiting. April navigated the stairs as a wave of heat from the black tarmac engulfed her without warning. The severe rise in temperature temporarily took her breath away, and the humidity covered her 66
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like a fine mist. He turned and held out his hand to her, helping her down from the last step onto the pavement. “Welcome to Miami,” he offered, his deep voice holding a heartfelt quality. His eyes captured hers again for the briefest of moments, and she shivered unexpectedly despite the sultry temperature. With her hand securely in his, she blindly followed him in the afternoon sunshine to a waiting SUV, grateful to slide into its cool confines. As with everything concerning Roman Vasquez, the details of getting married were smooth, fast, and under the radar. In less than a half hour they’d obtained a marriage license, secured a judge to come to his mother’s home the next day to officiate, and even managed to stop for wedding rings. Back in the SUV April looked down at the large, solitary diamond engagement piece that now adorned her left hand. The symbol of matrimony was classic, simple, modern in style, and fixed in a platinum setting with minimal design…and was completely stunning. She was astonished at the vast difference in the ring Todd had given her versus the one Roman had personally picked out and placed on her finger minutes before. That had been another surprise. The man actually picked the ring himself. But not before consulting her preference first and then keeping her close to him during the whole process. Even though she knew it was a formality, part of her had been secretly thrilled to have him choose it for her. In the swanky confines of the luxury jewelry shop, he’d quickly scanned over the gorgeous array of diamonds the manager had set before him, contemplating for only a few minutes before his dark eyes rested immediately on the one that now resided on her finger. And for some unbelievably bizarre reason, it was 67
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perfect. Not surprisingly, he engaged the vehicle’s voiceactivated phone after sliding back behind the wheel again, conversing nonstop while maneuvering them out of the business area and through traffic. He spoke rapid Spanish, making one call after another, while they drove around the outskirts of the city of Miami, passing more palm trees and impressive estates. She guessed they were headed into a very exclusive residential area. All the homes were massive, with manicured lawns, and ideally situated on the oceanfront. Some of the houses were decorated for the holidays with festive colored lights and plastic snowmen or an occasional sleigh and reindeer, which made her smile secretly. With his calls completed, he turned to her. “So what do you think of my hometown?” “It’s beautiful,” she admitted. “I can see why people flock here.” “And the ring? I hope I got it right.” “Worried I’ll jump ship if you didn’t?” He chuckled easily. “Something like that.” She held up her left hand and studied the impressive but classic setting and diamond. “Roman, it’s absolutely perfect. I couldn’t ask for more.” Her softly spoken admission seemed to catch him unaware. He nodded with unease at her flattery. “Yeah, well, it looks good on you,” was all he gave back gruffly, before turning his attraction once again to the road. Busy admiring the sparkling facets of her engagement ring, she didn’t realize they’d arrived at his mother’s home until he turned the SUV into a black-paved driveway, stopping outside a whitewashed Moroccan style home situated on the edge of the white sand beach she’d spotted from the air. She swallowed hard and took a deep, anxious breath in an attempt to calm herself. The estate screamed old 68
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money. Thankfully, at the same time the two-story dwelling looked warm and welcoming, with pots of fresh flowers and green vines trellised on both sides of the doorway, displaying exotic blooms from their intertwining lengths. Even though it was daytime, outdoor holiday lights sparkled across the shrubbery and around the entry. On the heavy wood door was a beautiful Christmas wreath of waxy cedar trimmed with an elegant gold bow. Roman exited the car first and quickly came around to open her door, holding out a hand to help her. As soon as she climbed out of the SUV, the front door of the house opened and a small, exquisitely dressed woman, who looked to be in her mid-sixties, appeared. Smiling and clapping her hands, she walked down the flowerpot-laden steps to hug him warmly. April watched as Roman hugged her back and immediately conversed in rapid Spanish with a broad, genuine smile. Obviously she was his mother, and she instantly felt like an interloper. Quietly, she stood back, waiting nervously until Roman turned to pull her forward. “Mama, let me introduce you to my fiancée, April Sutton,” he stated formally. “April, my mother, Lana Vasquez.” April had expected a cool, polite greeting from Roman’s mother. She was more than surprised when the other woman moved forward and hugged her warmly, before moving back to clap her hands together once again, staring at April with a wide smile on her face. “It’s so nice to meet you, April. Welcome to Miami, dear. I was so worried when I found out Roman was getting married suddenly. But seeing you—I know why he’s marrying. You’re perfect for him. I can just tell,” she beamed, a Spanish accent lining her words. 69
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The woman looked as if she’d just won the daughter-in-law lottery. April, still shocked at the enthusiastic greeting, smiled back, dumbfounded at Lana Vasquez’s reaction. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Vasquez. I know its short notice to put a wedding together. I hope it’s not too inconvenient?” Lana Vasquez laughed happily; her brown eyes twinkled as her petite yet overly round figure moved with merriment. “I’d carry the judge on my back to the wedding ceremony if it meant Roman was going to finally get married,” she joked, taking April by the arm as they walked toward the house. “Please, where are my manners? First, you must call me Lana. Now, come into the house. You are so fair, this muggy weather must be overpowering for you, especially after coming from snowy New York City with those icy temperatures. And don’t get me started on those horrible snow banks one has to continually climb over.” April found herself immediately liking the small, chatty Latin woman. With expertly styled, gleaming dark hair, along with perfect makeup and designer clothes, she was a contrast in work: her warm personality and loving nature juxtaposed against the perfected elite Miami outer layer. April entered the residence and found herself amazed at not only how cool the air was inside, but how elegant the Vasquez home was. The two-story residence made up of beautiful hand-cut tile, wood beams, and glass. It was also open, airy, and very Latin and exotic in style. In the middle of the open entry was a round glass table that held a stunning arrangement of fresh evergreens and what looked to be three-dozen long-stemmed red roses in a crystal vase. Ropes of matching evergreens garnished with twinkle lights laced the wrought iron railing of the broad winding staircase, while more white lights 70
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accented the tall Christmas tree holding court to one side of the entry hall. The house smelled of fresh, spicy gingerbread. The homey baking aroma, combined with the fragrant floral tones, graced the home with a unique, warm holiday feel all its own. April was in heaven. “Here is my daughter now. Emily, come…meet Roman’s fiancée,” Lana instructed to the approaching woman, who made her way down the elegant staircase. April turned and smiled, for a moment thinking how much Roman’s sister looked like him: tall, bronze, sleek midnight-black hair…until she focused on the familiar gorgeous Puerto Rican features of her best friend. “Emily?” she sputtered, not believing her best friend was walking toward her dressed in a smartlooking black sundress and silver mega-high heels. At the same time, she felt Roman move behind her to protectively put a hand on her shoulder, moving closer to her, almost as he sensed her surprise. Emily, looking amazingly smug and satisfied, shook her head in amused disbelief as she reached out for a hug. “April? What in the world? Are you really engaged to Roman?” “Are you really Roman’s sister?” The two friends embraced and laughed easily while Roman and his mother looked on in surprise. “Would someone please explain?” he demanded. It appeared he didn’t like the kink that had suddenly formed in his well-laid wedding plans. “Do you two know each other?” Both friends turned and answered in unison. “Yes!” Emily was the first to explain with a gleaming smile as her eyes danced with mischievous merriment. “I work with April at Bressler and Bressler. I started out consulting on a few cases a 71
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year ago, and for the past six months I’ve worked full time at B&B handling their litigation cases, dear brother.” Looking cross, he demanded more of an explanation. “And why didn’t you inform me of this information? And how come I’ve never seen you there?” Hugging April’s arm, Emily laughed her answer. “Because, big brother, you’re so bossy I didn’t want you poking your nose into my career. And with you as the firm’s biggest client, I didn’t want others to think that nepotism was the reason why I got my job or that there might be a conflict of interest. Since I’m married and have a different last name, no one ever suspected until now,” she stated, sounding very much like her brother. Clearly put out, he only gave a grumpy noise from his throat, grabbing his briefcase. “I have to go do some work…or something,” he mumbled, turning to stalk his way down the entry hall to some undisclosed location at the back of the house. But not before April stopped him. “Roman, aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked, sugary sweet. She watched him stop in his tracks, obviously realizing what he’d done. He retraced his steps to stand in front of her, eyeing her with a dark, grouchy glare before he swooped down to kiss her quickly on the lips. She’d only been teasing, but there was nothing funny about how his lips felt on hers. The minute he touched her, she felt as if she would melt into a puddle on the floor. He pounded his lips against hers at first before relenting, softening the kiss to gently tug at her bottom lip, followed by a quick naughty swipe with his tongue. His eyes were lethally narrowed, watching her the whole time he tormented her in payback for making come back to 72
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kiss her. Quickly she turned the tables on him and leaned up to return his tongue action with a little of her own. She heard his involuntarily growl, felt his body tense against hers as she played the seductress, and from the intensely hot look he was giving her, she knew she’d managed to give him back a little of his own medicine. She hid a smirk and watched as he stomped away for the second time, disappearing down the wide, airy hall and around a corner. Emily grabbed her arm and whispered into her ear. “We have to talk.” “Girls, I think this is a sign that Roman and April are meant to be. You two being friends? Yes, that is a very good sign,” Lana Vasquez stated, her voice giving away its Puerto Rican accent as she smiled warmly. “It’s a sign all right, Mother.” Emily laughed, pausing momentarily to whisper something to the passing housekeeper before smiling with definite mischief. Lana placed a loving touch on April’s arm. “I’ve heard so many good things about you from Emily. But I didn’t place your name when introduced. My apologies, April. With that said—I can’t tell you how pleased I am, that you were the one to show up with Roman today. Oh, everything is turning out just perfect.” She gave another loving squeeze. “Now, I’ll have José bring up your bags. And don’t forget, girls, there will be drinks and dinner soon,” she sang, walking off as she did so. “Come on, April. I’ll show you to your room.” April followed her friend up the stairway and down a long carpeted hall. Emily opened a bedroom door and showed her in. The guest room was breathtaking in soft whites and ivory creams. Serene and luxurious, it had a canopy bed covered in a flowing netted-type material, plush white carpet 73
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underfoot, along with French doors that opened out onto a balcony overlooking the beach and aqua-blue ocean. To her delight there was also an ensuite bathroom. Emily closed the door and whirled around with a look that told April her friend wanted every last detail before she intended on opening the door again. “So, spill woman,” Emily demanded, sounding very much like her older brother. “The last time we talked, I believe you were complaining about how Roman liked your coffee.” April felt her face blush warmly with embarrassment. “Please, don’t remind me. I can’t believe all the times I complained about him to you. This is a more than a little embarrassing,” she confessed, watching as her friend did nothing but smile knowingly. “Don’t think of it. You didn’t say anything I didn’t already know about him. And if you remember, I always agreed with you.” “How could I have not realized you and Roman were brother and sister?” Emily gave her sheepish grin. “Sorry I never let on. Like I told Roman before—I didn’t want anyone to think the Vasquez family was taking over the firm,” she joked. “Actually, to tell you the truth, by the time we became friends Roman wasn’t exactly on your A-list.” “Right again,” she admitted, realizing the situation wasn’t as dire as she thought. “Thanks for understanding.” “Okay, now that we have that out of the way— tell me exactly when you fell for him and vice-versa,” Emily inquired, sounding like she was crossexamining someone in court. A quick knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Emily opened it and relieved the housekeeper of a tray containing two very large 74
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Flirtinis, along with what looked to be a reinforcement of the pineapple/vodka/champagneinfused drink in a chilled cocktail shaker. “Oh my God, I need one of those,” April confessed, helping herself to one of the pretty Martini concoctions. She took a large gulp and closed her eyes with renewed fortitude. “Better?” Emily guessed. She set the drink tray on an ottoman at the foot of a comfy-looking chaise before taking her own cocktail and tasting it with a much daintier sip. April finished her second long swig before replying. “Much, thank you.” “Good. Now you can answer my questions.” April gave her friend a circumspect glance. “Great. Ply me with alcohol and then make me testify. I should have seen this one coming.” Emily snickered over the rim of her martini glass. “What?” she admonished. “Stop thinking the worst. I only thought we could use a little celebration and a fun treat before the big night ahead. It’s not every day you get engaged to my brother." “Don’t remind me.” “Now back to my question…” “Question? I thought this was an interrogation.” “Ha ha.” Emily smirked and looked like she was having too much fun. “So, when did you exactly fall for him and vice-versa?” April couldn’t fool her best friend. The woman looked like a goddess but had the brain of a legal eagle. There was no point in lying. She took another long drink of her Flirtini and knew she might as well get it over with. “Well, let’s say your brother proposed with an offer I couldn’t refuse,” she stated, avoiding the inevitable as long as she could. Emily crossed the room drink in hand, kicking off her to-die-for heels before plopping down on the 75
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scrumptious-looking bed. She tucked her legs neatly to one side and eyed April with a thoughtful, sly expression. “Roman’s birthday is on Sunday—so, I’m guessing you’re marrying him in order for him to get the trust fund.” “You know?” “Of course. Although only Roman and I know about it. We found out when Father died. But I never thought he would really go through with it,” she said. “So it’s business then? Not love?” “Absolutely. It’s anything but love.” “So then you didn’t feel anything when he kissed you downstairs?” April tossed her purse onto the bed and kicked off her heels, stalling for time. “Emily…” she groaned, remembering how she’d blushed after his kiss. “April…” Emily mocked, waiting for an answer. She sank down onto the bed across from her best friend and rolled her eyes. “Okay, without giving you TMI—your brother’s a great kisser. I’m sure any woman would feel something,” she relented. “The only difference is that he could be the last man on Earth, and I still wouldn’t consider anything serious with him. Besides, I can’t see him ever being serious about one woman, especially me. I’m fairly sure I’m not in the running for girlfriend status.” “April, don’t think for one minute that my brother couldn’t be attracted to you.” She laughed at the thought. “Believe it or not, I have absolutely no desire to be added to his list of women.” “Women?” Emily scoffed with a giggle. “Trust me on this one, Roman doesn’t actually date much. He’s kinda shy and backward when it comes to romance.” April gave her a silent stare. “Okay, well maybe not shy, but he’s not very 76
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smooth if you ask me.” “Apparently whoever gave him his Christmas tree thinks the same.” Emily chuckled easily and raised a hand. “That would be me,” she stated. “I could not resist when I saw that poor thing.” “Well, it definitely lends a nice holiday touch to his loft,” April agreed with a smirk. She took another sip of her cocktail and gave her friend a curious stare. “By the way, would I have run into your brother if I’d been down here with you this weekend?” “Funny that you should mention that…” “Oh please, don’t say you wanted to set me up.” “No,” Emily protested. “Absolutely not. I knew how you felt about Roman. I only intended to have you come down and enjoy a Todd-memory-free weekend away from snowy Manhattan. Although I have to confess, I thought if you did happened to run into my dear brother down here, it might have been a good way to break the news to you that he was my sibling besides the ice between you two. If not—no harm done.” “Sounds plausible,” April countered, still not sure. “Besides, I doubt Roman would have been around much even if you’d come down with me instead. He’s always working or out drinking with his buddies or off doing something dangerous.” “You definitely know your brother,” she surmised. “Anyhow, for some reason your sibling took an instant dislike to me the minute we met.” “Sounds like classic mixed signals if you ask me.” “You know, you may be right. Maybe I was just reading more into those stormy scrutinizing looks I’ve been receiving for the last six months. Obviously I’ve also been misinterpreting why he avoids me like 77
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the plague when he’s in the office. Besides how he looks like I’m sentencing him to do ten-to-twenty in the state pen when he stops at my desk.” Emily laughed, her reply both teasing and warning at the same time. “Don’t forget—love and hate are closely related.” “Thanks for the heads up.” “Anyhow, on a happy note, my mother is having an absolute ball planning this wedding,” Emily reassured her. “So no more worries.” “That’s easy for you to say.” April’s heart sank. “I’m really sorry we have to fool your mother. But Roman thought it was for the best, and I agreed. But after meeting her and finding out how wonderful she is…well…now I feel awful for doing this. I don’t want her to be hurt when Roman and I part in the near future.” “Don’t worry, April. Everything is working out the way it should.” “The way it should? That’s very cryptic.” Emily swigged down the last of her Flirtini, slipped into her five-inch designer heels, and headed to the door with a secretive smile on her lips. “Like I said, don’t worry, April. I have a very good feeling my mother will not be disappointed.” With that strange statement hanging in midair, Emily disappeared, but not before reminding her that more courage fortifying cocktails awaited them along with dinner in about an hour. After the door closed, April remained on the bed, mindlessly glancing out to the magnificent ocean view, unresolved about the predicament she now found herself in. Could her life become any more complicated? First you let a sexy Latin man talk you into marrying him, and now you find out he comes with paparazzi, a mother who’s pushing him down the aisle, and his little sis is your BFF? 78
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…and let’s not forget the awesome abs, devilish smile, and the fact the guy can cook. She moaned. A mere twenty-four hours ago, she was just a normal jilted legal assistant on the mend with a whole new outlook on life. Ready for anything. But definitely not for Roman Vasquez.
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Chapter Seven Roman kicked his motorcycle into gear and tore out of the garage with a roar, burning down the black paved drive and out onto the palm tree-lined street. He slowed his speed after half a block, mindful of the neighbors and the children who lived in the area. Speed. That was exactly what he needed to help him release this pent-up frustration he was experiencing; that or a dozen shots of straight-up tequila minus the salt and lime. With the hot Miami sun beating down on him, he drove for a few more minutes, finally pulling into a sunny, well-groomed neighborhood park. He slowed, taking a corner smoothly to direct his cycle into a parking lot next to a group of basketball courts. He came to a stop, killed the engine of his V Star 1300 and pushed the kickstand down with his left foot. Still in an ornery mood, he ripped off his helmet, plunking it down on the seat in front of him with an attitude. “Shit…” The angry swear word hung in the muggy Florida afternoon air and did little to ease his black mood. He now found himself totally pissed for being such an asshole…for acting like a hormonal jerk trying to impress some girl…for getting it all wrong with her. Damn it. On the jet earlier when she came out after changing her clothes, he’d watched her as she moved toward him, at the time feeling like someone had kick-boxed him in the stomach. It was like that 80
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every time he saw her—a feeling of helplessness that scared him, a sense of losing himself in her. A desire to be with her that took him by surprise. He’d felt it over the past few months, last night, and today. Instead of going away—which he told himself that it would eventually—it was getting stronger. It was worse than trying to survive hell week during his BUD/S training to become a Navy SEAL. He laughed suddenly, the tension easing from him somewhat, at the memory of her shocked expression when he forced her to wear his headphones. The woman was surprising. She was like a fresh new day. Clean, uncluttered, and open to anything. No matter what he threw at her, she either dealt with it or used her sharp wit to overcome it. She was so unlike the women he’d dated in his past, all of whom happened to be annoying, demanding, and liked to whine about everything. April Sutton, on the other hand, seemed to make the best of anything that came her way, whether it was a change in plans or finding out her best friend was also his sister. She hadn’t even been flustered. On the contrary, she’d immediately started gabbing with Emily, forgetting him altogether. This thought made him reflect on the other women in his life: his sister, strangely enough, was happily smug about the whole deal. And his mother? She’d looked pleased as punch with his choice of a bride. So much so it was downright scary. So what’s the problem, Vasquez? He glanced about the busy park, taking in the families sitting under the trees, the kids playing Frisbee, along with the pickup games of basketball in progress. The busy view still couldn’t distract him from the troubled core of the situation: that he could have carried out this marriage deal the same way he had planned to with Justine. But for some godforsaken reason, he’d been compelled to offer 81
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April more. He also had an asinine, uncontrolled need to win her over. A surge of pure arrogance burned through his blood. Truthfully, it was more than arrogance—it was also a powerful feeling of longing. He’d grown up in a loving family, had good friends, a handful of relationships with women, but never really felt like he needed someone before. Not like this. He gritted his teeth and shook his head in denial. With determination he ground the feeling out of his system, deciding he was reading too much into the situation. He was getting married and the money would be his. Afterward they would part as planned. That was the one thing Miss April Sutton was sure to see too. She wanted love, babies, and a man who could be faithful. Obviously he wasn’t that guy. So why does it bother me so much that I’m not that guy? He groaned with self-loathing. Refusing to find an answer to his own question, he swung his leg over the seat of his bike as another motorcycle pulled up alongside him, followed by a black Jeep sans the sides and roof with only a black roll bar present. Realizing he’d been discovered and tracked down by his usual crew, whether he wanted their company or not. Before he could utter a greeting, the band of four men started in with whoops of man-style celebration. Complete with full gutter language, they rapid-fired questions at him in a mix of Spanish and English, targeting his manhood, mental state, and how far along the chick he was marrying was knocked up. A cold chill ran down his spine. They knew. “Amigo, I got a wicked call this morning from your mama. She was talking loco like you were getting married?” “Lucky shit! Are her boobs huge yet? Don’t 82
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chicks get big awesome boobs when they’re having a kid?” “Bro…never thought I’d see the day. She must have some ass or you’re completely nuts.” “Dude, it’s not too late to bolt. We can be in Hawaii surfing and pounding back some beers before anyone knows we’re gone.” Rafael Quintero, Trey Daniels, Rocky Kidd, and Juan Dias: his so-called friends. Rafael and Juan longtime friends from his childhood, while Trey and Rocky held the title of leftover buddies from Navy SEAL days. All of them currently surrounding him like a pack of wolves going in for the kill. He broke out into a lethal grin and realized he might as well let them enjoy their obnoxious fun. The men had obviously been summoned by his mother at the spur of the moment for his wedding; showing without fail and no questions asked. The realization made him a little choked up. Immediately he pushed it away—he needed to keep his focus and dampen down some fires and make the marriage thing somewhat believable before the guys met his intended bride. “Okay, you jerks, have your fun. But just wait…your day is coming,” he predicted as a round of vehement denials came from the group of men. “Not likely, dude.” “Get nailed down? No way, man.” “Second that.” “Marriage for you, amigo? Have you…how you say...take a blow to the head?” his friend Rafael finished in broken English. Roman shook his head and couldn’t keep from grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, save it, you bunch of assholes. Just wait. When you meet April you’re gonna be eating your words, and dying since there’s only one of her and she’s all mine.” The minute he spoke the boastful words, another powerful feeling gripped him. Only this time it didn’t land in his gut, 83
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but instead slammed into his heart, on account of the fact he’d knowingly spoken the truth—not a lie. He swallowed hard, his happy-go-lucky grin fading while he suddenly felt the overwhelming need for it to be real. Rafael slung an arm around his neck, pulling him into a headlock embrace, and whispered to him in Spanish. “At first I doubted this was for real but I see it in your eyes. You’re in love.” Rafael laughed menacingly at his friend’s predicament. “Don’t worry, amigo…it’s not so bad. You’ll survive it.” After his sudden clarity regarding his feelings toward April, Roman didn’t appreciate his friend’s warped sense of humor. He shrugged out of Rafael’s big brother headlock and quickly whipped off his Tshirt. Tossing it onto the seat of his motorcycle, he promptly switched gears. “C’mon, guys, enough talk about chicks. Who’s up for a game of serious hoops?” **** April leaned back in her lounge chair, feeling as if she was in a fantasy. A tropical breeze glided across the darkened patio as the moon, which was almost full, streaked light beams across the glistening onyx-black ocean. A line of votive candles flickered along the edge of the outdoor room, lending an air of romance to the heady setting. She kicked off her heels and stretched out, sighing happily. Dinner was long over, and Emily and her husband Jake had decided to go out to visit friends. Lana had already retired, explaining she wanted extra rest tonight since the next day and evening were going to be a long one with the wedding and New Year’s Eve. She smiled contently and thought back to dinner and how Roman’s mother had informed her about the wedding plans she’d already made, which included: guests, food, drinks, flowers and music. Lana Vasquez, in her hands-on motherly fashion, 84
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had explained the mind-boggling details with unadulterated enthusiasm. She’d informed all who were seated about the dining table that the nuptials were to take place promptly after dark, outside along the edge of the pool, with a multitude of candles and full moon. Lana even inquired as to whether April had a wedding dress. The request almost made her smile, since Roman’s mother was so much like him. She didn’t have a doubt where he got his forcefulness and tenacity. Nicely, and with more enthusiasm than she thought she had, she’d described her wedding gown to Lana and Emily in full detail even as she stole a quick glance to see Roman’s reaction. He’d been quietly sitting next to her throughout the meal, his arm draped casually along the back of her chair, his fingers gently caressing her bare shoulder with an intimate touch, almost as if it were the most natural thing to do. He hadn’t spoken much during dinner, which surprised her. Instead he chose to sit back and listen while his mother talked nonstop about wedding plans. The only time he said anything, she recalled, was when he talked to Emily’s husband Jake about the upcoming football playoffs. Posed around the table with Roman and his family, with romantic Latin music playing in the background, the homey touches of the holiday season evident, delicious food, wine, and conversation, April couldn’t help but marvel at how everything was coming together. It astonished her to find all the details were falling into place so simple and troublefree. For a brief moment, she’d even permitted herself to pretend it was real, to imagine she was in love with him and excited like any bride would be about their wedding, which was effortless when she felt the love that had traveled around the table. Wishful thinking, she thought now, watching the stars sparkle in the inky midnight sky. Her mind 85
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easily traveled back again to how he had been so quiet. It was unusual for him. But his newfound quiet reserve wasn’t the only thing different about him. There was something in his eyes akin to soulful reflection. He’d looked at her strangely tonight, almost as if she were a complete mystery to him. She knew they didn’t really know one another well, but for some reason, he’d seemed almost guarded when he looked her way. And some of his touches during dinner had been hesitant, so unlike the forceful man she’d come to know. “Plotting my demise?” April jumped at the sound of his deep voice as it resonated in the sultry night air. He moved away from the open patio door he’d been casually leaning against and came to stand in front of the chaise lounge where she was relaxing. The button-down shirt he had changed into before dinner was now completely undone, and his feet were bare. His short hair was rumpled like he’d been running his hands through it; the defined hard plains of his face covered in unshaved scruff. To April he looked sexier than any man she’d ever encountered and more dangerous than any man she’d ever imagined. “Sorry to disappoint you, but you weren’t on my mind. Not all women are thinking all Roman Vasquez, all the time,” she smarted back, not liking how he had been leaning against the open French door watching her for who knows how long. He smiled reluctantly. “It may come as a shock to you, but there are some women who like to hang out with me.” “Sorry, you’re stuck with me.” She wished he would stop looking at her like he had something in mind. “Can I help you with something, or do you like to lurk in the shadows on your downtime?” He chuckled and moved closer. “Actually, I wanted to know…” He paused and cleared his 86
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throat, seeming uncomfortable as he jammed his hands into his front jean pockets and shifted his bare feet. “…ah, I mean, I was thinking maybe we could go out and meet up with some friends of mine and their girlfriends. They’re all in town for the wedding and at a local club having drinks tonight.” She blinked, closed her gaping mouth, and felt her face blush ridiculously. Oh my God! Is he asking me out? Like on a date? No way. “Ah…I think I’ll pass. It’s getting pretty late. But thanks for the invite.” He nodded and shifted his feet again. “Yeah, guess you’ll probably meet them at the wedding anyway.” He ran a quick hand through his hair and looked out at the glistening ocean before turning back to her, his strong features masked in the shadowy moonlight. “You up for a motorcycle ride? We could go down the coast a ways and back.” Is he for real? “Along with late nights, I don’t do speed. The thought of being on a motorcycle blasting down some highway at midnight is right up there with having my wisdom teeth pulled.” He actually looked disappointed now. “Oh, yeah, I suppose.” Great. Now I feel guilty. “Uh…I mean thanks for the offer…but no.” He shrugged with indifference, sauntering over to the pool and back to her with pent-up energy. “How about a swim down at the beach?” he suggested, undaunted at her first two refusals. “You don’t have to bother with a swimsuit since it’s plenty dark down there.” Seriously, skinny-dipping? This time she couldn’t help but laugh. “I had no idea you had such a great sense of humor,” she said, her body shaking with mirth, as he looked anything but amused. “Oh…you’re really serious?” “Yeah, I guess I am.” 87
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She tried unsuccessfully to stamp down a lingering grin. “Need I refresh your memory that I’m a legal assistant, not a Navy SEAL. And I don’t remember skinny-dipping in the contract I signed last night. Was that in section five or nine?” “I’m serious, April. Don’t you want to live a little?” he challenged, sounding irritated. “I think marrying a man I hardly know on the spur of the moment is enough living for me.” “All right, fine. We’ll stick to the contract. I’ll swim by myself,” he grumbled, storming off for a second time in one day. “Aren’t you going to meet up with your friends?” she called. “Not if you aren’t going with me,” he threw over his shoulder. “And I’m not in the mood anymore.” With that cantankerous reply, she watched him pound his way across the patio and around the pool toward the beach as he stripped off his shirt. For a second she caught a glimpse of his naked lean torso and felt a flash of regret at turning him down. The guy was single, muscled with sexy tattoos, hot to say the least, and wanted to swim naked with her. She paused. Did she really turn him down? Hey, somebody has to be the adult. Hot guy, naked, water, hmm? Just saying… Stick with the plan, April. “Oh, spoilsport” she murmured, then picked up her heels and darted through the open French doors and back into the house before she could change her mind. In her room, she changed out of her dress into a sheer short nightgown in a cream-colored gauzy fabric—a total impulse buy when she was in Macy’s shopping the day before. Actually, the purchase was the result of two overzealous sales attendants and one bridal consultant. They’d tempted her with one piece of pretty nightwear after another, gleefully 88
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informing her she needed sexy lingerie for the impromptu honeymoon that was to follow being whisked off for a romantic heart-stopping wedding. After they’d helped her try on what seemed to be an endless array of wedding dresses for hours on end, she hadn’t the energy nor the heart to refuse them. And the fact it was a fake wedding hadn’t even mattered, since she still found herself turned into the typical blathering female once the three women started asking questions about her impending nuptials. Refocused now, and resolved to keep the rest of the weekend all business, she shook off her momentary brush with wedding-bell-insanity and washed her face, then applied moisturizer to her skin and brushed her teeth. Lying in bed in the moonlit darkness, she watched the sheer drapes float lazily with motion, while an ocean breeze slipped through the open windows. Outside, she guessed he was swimming by himself and no doubt cursing his rotten luck at picking her for a wife. They were so different, as much as the dark of winter was to the bright summer, or the translucent moon to the burning sun. So why did his touch make her feel so good? Why did having him sit next to her at dinner feel so right? Why did she feel like crying when she thought of leaving him some day? Her heart ached wildly at the prospect of what could happen between them if they let it. But she knew nothing was going to happen. He didn’t want a wife, kids and everything that went with that kind of commitment. He lived on the edge. Work hard—play harder. There wasn’t room for the burden of a family. He wore his bachelorhood like a banner across his broad chest. He was also Bressler and Bressler’s top client, and she didn’t like the idea of mixing business and pleasure. She’d already crossed the line with the whole temporary marriage 89
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deal. Besides, I’m getting over a breakup. I need more time before I fall for another guy…right? She snuggled down in the bed and thought back to how his tawny brown eyes looked on the jet while he held those earbuds in her ears. He’d been close enough for her to smell his scent. It was all male and sexy and drew her to him. She also recalled the brief kiss they’d shared in front of his sister and mother in the foyer earlier. It’d been rough at first, then surprisingly gentle and tender, teasingly so, until she provoked him by sliding her tongue against his. So unlike the wildly heated and uncontrolled kisses they’d shared in his apartment. She sighed longingly, finding that with Roman Vasquez nothing made sense. The only thing she knew for sure was the heart-pounding awareness she felt each time he was near her and the strange, deep ache in her heart each time he looked at her with those fathomless eyes. Reality check, please. This was business. All the bizarre feelings she was experiencing toward him were simply a reaction to the wedding buzz. Simple explanation: she was getting herself pulled into the excitement of the holiday weekend. Tomorrow she would marry him, and then they could thankfully part ways. Then her life could be normal again. Oh, yeah, just keep telling yourself that.
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Chapter Eight April awoke, the fresh intermingling scent of ocean and exotic flowers floating through her open French doors. She was surprised she’d slept at all. An intruding knock sounded on her bedroom door, and she begrudgingly forced herself into sitting position. She could only hope it wasn’t a certain brooding contractor with more outrageous demands, such as a morning of skydiving to her death. “Come in,” she murmured, with absolutely no life to her voice. She was still pre-coffee, so this was the best he was going to get. Instead Emily poked her head inside the bedroom and threw her a wide, overly bright smile. “Morning! Glad you’re up. Get dressed in your best bikini and meet me by the pool for breakfast.” April glanced at the bedside clock and winced. “Emily, it’s barely eight in the morning.” “I know, but it’s our only chance to be lazy poolside today. This afternoon the caterers and florist will be all over the pool area setting up, and besides that, my mother has us booked at her spa all afternoon for a day of beauty.” April grinned ruefully. “Great. I can use all the beauty treatments I can get.” A flash of guilt sprang through her system. “Really, Emily. This is too much. I feel awful that your mother is doing all of this wedding hoopla for nothing.” Emily tossed her long dark hair over one slim shoulder and shrugged. “Trust me. My mother is in hog heaven planning this wedding. You should have seen her when she found out Roman was going to 91
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elope. Heaven help anyone within earshot. No way is anyone going to cheat my dear sainted mother out of seeing her son getting married. Now get up and get your swimsuit on. Meet you at the pool in ten minutes.” She went to close the door and paused. “Oh, and happy wedding day!” “Ugh…” was her only response. With another laugh, Emily closed the door as April wearily dropped back onto the pillow and released another exasperated groan. She stared at the ceiling with a ball of apprehension in her stomach. Dreading the day ahead, and the inevitable that was to happen after nightfall, she pulled herself out of bed and dug in her suitcase for one of the bikinis she’d brought along. She quickly donned a simple red one and along with the matching sarong, spent a few minutes in her private bath to tidy up, before heading out to the patio. The house was blissfully quiet as she made her way downstairs. Someone had switched the lights on the big tree in the entry, along with the rest of the holiday lights trimming the various banisters and ledges, and the massive Christmas tree in the living room. The homey festive touches momentarily soothed her jagged nerves and reminded her that once the holidays were over, her life would be back on track—minus one tall, dark, pushy male. Tentative, she paused at the French doors that opened out to the pool area. With caution she glanced about, wondering where in the world Roman Vasquez was this morning. To her relief, only Emily lay next to the pool in a padded lounge chair with a delicious-looking Mimosa in one hand and a magazine in the other, her already darkly tanned body sunning under the bright morning rays. April made her way over and slipped off her sarong, sighing with sheer delight as she sank onto the lounger next to her friend. “Have I gone to 92
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Heaven?” she questioned, pulling on her sunglasses to fight off the morning sun that bounced off the glistening blue waters of the pool. She couldn’t help but marvel at the glorious day. Birds chirped in unison as they flittered about the fragrant orange trees and flowering azalea shrubs. Boats sailed on crisp waves made from other passing watercraft. In the distance she could hear a lawnmower and smell dewy fresh-cut grass. It was all so different from her life in New York. If she were there now it would be cold and snowing, and she would be huddled in bed. Emily smiled at her comment and motioned to the pitcher of mimosa, coffee, and rolls placed between them on a side table. “Please, help yourself,” she offered. April sat up and poured steaming coffee into a china cup before biting into a delicious flaky croissant. She sipped her coffee and finished her roll before leaning back into her chair. “Where’s Jake this morning?” Emily flipped over onto her stomach before answering. “He went golfing with Roman and the guys. They wanted to get a few rounds in this morning.” She sighed with relief. “Oh, well, that’s good.” Secure with the knowledge Emily’s brother was thankfully absent, she finally relaxed, and enjoyed herself like she hadn’t in a long time. Now and then the two women talked about work, gossiped about people they knew, and discussed fashion between glasses of orange juice/champagne-laden mimosas. Only occasionally did they mention some aspect of the wedding. If the topic of the impending nuptials hadn’t come up at all, April would have felt as if she was on vacation for real. “Miss Emily, phone call for you. It’s your Aunt Maria. She want your mother but Mrs. Lana is at hairdresser this morning, so she ask for you,” the 93
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maid Lola requested, her Spanish accent thick. Emily groaned and rose from her lounge chair. “Thank you, Lola,” she told her, wrapping herself in a cover-up. “Be back in a few minutes.” April murmured a response and sat up to reach for her drink, feeling the need for more false fortitude. At the same time a movement to her left caught her eye. She paused and sputtered loudly before full-out choking on her second early-bird cocktail as Roman Vasquez walked toward her with nothing on but a pair of long board shorts. A look of angry concern flashed on his face as he moved forward and immediately patted her firmly on the back. “You’re the only woman I know who can get into trouble lying in a chair sipping a fruit drink.” She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the fact that the man was almost naked in front of her for the second time in less than forty-eight hours. “It’s your fault I’m hitting the hard stuff at nine a.m.,” she wheezed. “Marrying me is making you feel the need to get wasted first thing in the morning? Man, what are you gonna be like after the wedding?” She laughed at his dark, somewhat selfdeprecating humor and toasted him with her glass. “I hazard to guess?” He barked out a laugh, while she downed the rest of her drink and tried to ignore the fact he was looking her over from head to toe and back again. The man blatantly took in her minuscule bikini top made up of two patches of material that barely covered her round, overly full breasts, before moving to eye her narrowed ribcage that flared out to the curve of her hips again covered in the barest of red material. Finally his gaze traveled the lengths of her long, well-shaped legs. Typical man. Although she felt like a hypocrite, 94
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realizing she’d been watching him the same way. She felt her face flush warmly as he took the seat next to her, stretching out as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Lounging by the pool, tipsy, wearing a bikini, hmmm? Kinda like this new Miami April,” he murmured smoothly, his voice teasingly gruff. “Don’t get too used to Miami April, since she’ll get packed away the minute we get back to New York,” she snipped, taking off her sunglasses. “I thought you were playing golf?” She couldn’t help but look at him. He was overwhelming to a woman’s senses as he lay there unshaven, his sleek, dark hair tousled and his swarthy skin gleaming in the morning light. Determined, she fought down the memories of how good it felt to be entangled in his strong arms. “Yeah, I was. But I got bored after nine holes. Jake and my buddies stayed to play eighteen.” He looked away and closed his eyes against the sun, leaning back to hunker down next to her for who knew how long. She turned away, only to turn back and sneak a glance at him. Decisively disheveled and scruffy, he lay next to her tanned, muscled, hairy, and so unlike his suave New York image. Since their arrival in Miami, he was showing more and more of the rugged persona that was Roman Vasquez. She found herself reluctantly comparing the two sides of him and couldn’t make up her mind which one she favored more. Hello! Does it matter? I know, I know. But if I had to pick one…hmmm? Right now I’d go with semi-naked tough guy. Business, April. Remember this is business, and don’t forget the hot stud next to you is responsible for this whole mess, besides making you want to get 95
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sloshed poolside before noon. With that reminder, a thread of annoyance skimmed through her. “This whole wedding deal is a bit much, don’t you think?” He ignored her completely. Undaunted, she soldiered on. “Do you know your mother is having live music here tonight? Do you have any idea how many people she has invited?” He continued his silent treatment. “Well, I’ll tell you—two hundred and thirty-four last minute guests. I also witnessed a ton of special flowers being delivered and carted inside. Plus there’s fancy Puerto Rican food things—that I can’t even pronounce—being prepared in the kitchen by a caterer and a staff of six. Do you know on my way through the foyer, I counted five huge boxes of candles? Boxes! This is getting out of control,” she moaned, needing to rile him a little as he lay next to her with his eyes still closed, looking all macho, dangerous, and totally unperturbed about the fact her whole life was about to change. Without opening his eyes, he answered with a nonchalant tone. “My mother is enjoying herself. I couldn’t stop her even if I wanted to.” She simmered some more before huffing a reply. “Some people take the act of getting married seriously. Obviously you have no conscience when it comes to what will happen later when we divorce.” He groaned loudly for effect and rose to perch on the edge of his lounge chair, facing her with a placating expression. “April, you have to trust me. Have some faith. Can you do that, please? We both need to keep all of this in perspective and think about those kids back at the hospital. In the end everything we’re doing will benefit a lot of sick children and their families. As for my mother, she’ll deal with it just fine. She’ll understand. If I have to, I’ll tell her the truth about the contract, hospital wing and about us if it comes to that. But in the 96
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meantime, can we agree to let her have her fun and deal with the consequences later?” Momentarily speechless, she nodded while pondering his speech. She was surprised that for once what he was saying made sense in the long run, even if the short term was ridiculously out of control. “You’re right. I should start to trust you on this or it won’t work. Fine. I’ll try to work on my trust issues and let your mother have her fun with the wedding business.” She acquiesced and smiled wistfully. “You know, I have to admit she really is doing an amazing job making this the wedding of my dreams. And I’m truly sorry for being so cranky. Can I chalk it up to wedding day nerves?” “No problem.” His dark gaze captured hers with a look of somber contemplation. “And regardless of what you think of me, I am serious about marriage. That’s why I haven’t gotten married yet.” “Really,” she stated skeptically. “Haven’t met the right girl yet?” He paused, seemingly now uncomfortable with the topic. “Yeah, something like that, I guess.” “Care to elaborate?” He gave her a sly look. “No way in hell.” “Typical.” “What does that mean?” “You’re the typical male: afraid to commit or even talk about your feelings.” “Is that right?” He gave her a heart-pounding grin. “We’re talking now, and in ten hours I’ll be committing myself to you. Doesn’t that count?” She smothered a chuckle. “Not in the least.” “Why?” “Because our wedding is pretend and our feelings aren’t involved.” “Really? What if you were wrong?” Her heart stilled for a split second. “I don’t understand.” 97
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His grin faded and the air between them became charged with an electric vibe, like it had the other night in his apartment when he’d kissed her. His eyes held hers, time stood still, and for some crazy reason, she felt as if they were the only two people in the world. He dished out another killer smile, and the moment passed. “Forget what I said.” He reached across and grabbed her left hand, holding it up to inspect the engagement ring he’d placed there the day before as it sparkled brilliantly in sunlight. “So why did you wait so long to take his ring off?” His question threw her for a second. Hastily she pulled her hand from his and frowned at the turn the conversation was taking. “You must have been talking to Emily,” she accused him. “Is it really any of your business?” “You’re going to be my wife. I’d like to know why.” “Oh, please,” she fired back. “Don’t start sounding like a jealous husband.” “A man can’t be curious about his new wife?” She looked at him, noting he had that certain narrowed sexy expression on his face again like he’d had two nights ago in his apartment when charming her into marrying him. She had absolutely no willpower against it. “All right, if you must know…I didn’t want to have to explain to everyone at work what happened. Out of the office I took the ring off. Except the other day, I decided to take it off for good. Emily convinced me it was finally time to move on. I guess it was the last step I needed to take. The ring is now in my silverware drawer.” He watched her intently. “Are you over him?” She pondered his inquiry. “Working on it.” “Still in love with him?” “No…not anymore.” He was silent for a few seconds, mulling over 98
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her answer before he cleared his throat and served up yet another heart-stopping smile. “Good. Then you can go jet-skiing with me,” he announced, bolting from his lounge chair to scoop her out of hers. She sputtered and her mouth dropped open. In one fast action he lifted her into his arms as if she were nothing more than one of the birds she’d been watching in the orange trees. Her arms automatically went around his brawny neck, and he held her almost-naked body tightly against his hard, warm one. Ignoring her protests in true caveman form, he carried her around the pool and down the steps to the white sand beach where two neon-yellow jet skis sat parked. Unceremoniously he dumped her on her feet in the warm, shallow water and reached for a life jacket. She made a put-out face. “And what says ‘good idea’ about this?” “Slip it on,” he instructed, pushing the vest at her as he fit his muscled arms into a larger one and zipped it up. She shook her head. “I can’t drive a jet ski! I’d be scared to death!” she cried, as he helped to slide her arms into the life vest. Momentarily distracted, she held her breath as his long brown fingers moved the zipper upward, tantalizingly slow, maneuvering it achingly inch by inch over her tiny bikini top and full breasts that spilled from the confines of the material. To make matters worse, her body involuntarily quivered with a rush of awareness, a tremor of wild, uncontrolled heat simultaneously racing through her. Even though his fingers didn’t make contact with her bare skin, she felt branded by his nearness. They were standing in warm water facing one another, and the world seemed to close in on them again. His hands were still on the zipper, and for a 99
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moment she was sure he was going to bend down and kiss her as he had the other night in his apartment. His dark eyes flashed with reckless naked desire, connecting with hers, making her uneven breath catch, while his strong jaw clenched and flexed as he wavered back and forth on his next move. Then the moment was over, and he picked her up once again in his arms and dumped her onto the back of one of the jet skis. “Stop worrying. You can sit in front of me and I’ll help you,” he ordered, throwing a long hairy leg over the machine as he climbed on behind her, proceeding to nudge the machine forward until it was completely in the water. April felt him mold his large athletic body to hers as his strong arms came around to reach for the ignition. She jumped away from him and heard him chuckle behind her, his voice deep and husky sounding in her ear. “Will you relax and just enjoy it?” he demanded. “Do you say that to all your women?” she quipped, not able to help herself. He laughed outright, actually hugging her back against his vested chest as he did so. “Only to the ones that make me totally nuts.” He laughed deeply, and she finally gave in and relaxed back against him. “That’s much better, April,” he breathed into her ear, his voice now smoothly seductive, his slight accent more pronounced when he said her name. His warm breath on her ear was almost her undoing. It tickled her and sent more waves of heat through her. Her body hummed wickedly with the knowledge the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen was currently wrapped around her. He set the jet ski in motion, and they flew forward. She held on to the handles with his large tanned hands next to hers while he maneuvered 100
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them out into deeper water. With caution he turned them in circles, into the aqua-blue waves, making the machine bounce up and over the white-capped swells. Within minutes she found herself immersed in the experience. This was more fun than she’d had in a long time. It was pure exhilaration. Laugher bubbled up within her and was forced out by each turn they took, by each blue wave they rode together. She fully lost her inhibitions. Roman joined her in her laugher, obviously enjoying the fact he was showing her something new and she was completely loving it. She watched the coastline as they moved along, fascinated at the luxury homes lining the shore, each complete with its own dock and boat. The morning was sparkling fresh with large, cottony white clouds floating overhead, azure waters warm to the touch, the hot southern air sultry on her skin. With each turn a fine spray of warm water misted them, cooling them from the already sizzling sun above. The thing that really shocked her—besides how much fun she was having—was how much she liked having Roman Vasquez wrapped around her: his muscled arms brushing against hers, looking so dark and foreign against her pale skin, and his equally muscled brown legs, covered in dark hair, lined snuggly against hers where she sat poised between them. Now and then he would lean over her shoulder, placing his unshaven face against hers, pointing out something in particular along the shoreline. Within his embrace she felt safe and protected like she never had before in her life. For some crazy reason, she knew nothing would harm her as long as he had his strong arms around her. She couldn’t fathom being the woman who would be able to feel like this, with him, for a lifetime. Not that any woman would ever be able to hold 101
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on to a man like him. With that realization, a jolt of sudden sadness lingered in a part of her heart she hadn’t known existed. All too soon he returned them back to their portion of the beach, slowing as they neared. He cut the engine and let them drift the few feet into the shallow water until the jet ski bumped the sandy bottom. She dropped her hands from the handles and waited for him to do the same. Instead, he moved his hands to her arms, turning her gently until she was facing him, capturing her chin with a gentle touch to tilt her face upward while he lowered his mouth onto hers. His kiss was achingly slow and deliberate. He tasted her pink lips, teasingly nipping at her pouting lower lip until he’d had enough, before tenderly sliding his tongue against her own in a purely evocative move. To April his kiss was surprisingly sweet, intensely loving, and sensually erotic all at once…and without a doubt it truly caught her off guard. “Hey, you guys! You don’t have to put on an act when it’s only me,” Emily shouted, making her way down from the lawn unto the beach. April heard Roman groan low in his throat as he pulled away from her, along with a few Spanish swear words issued under his breath; obviously annoyed with the interruption from his little sister. For April, Emily’s intrusion was a godsend. It was like a wake-up call. A loud reminder that kissing Roman Vasquez wasn’t on the agenda for the weekend, with the exception of when it was absolutely necessary. Red faced, she scrambled off the jet ski and splashed through the warm water to the beach. Behind her Roman pushed the machine onto the sand. Emily joined them, smiling widely as she 102
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glanced from one to the other. “Looks like you two were having some fun,” she teased. April’s cheeks turned an even deeper shade of crimson. “Ah…Roman was nice enough to give me a ride on the jet ski,” she blathered, highly embarrassed at the sexy-sweet make-out scene. “Yeah, my brother is all heart,” Emily said, speaking over April’s shoulder toward her sibling. “Emily, did you want something?” Roman growled, sounding irritable while he unzipped his life jacket and tossed it onto the beach. Emily smiled to April. “It’s time to get ready to go to the spa,” she told her, ignoring her grumpy brother altogether. “Don’t bother showering. Just change into some jeans or something quick. Our appointments are scheduled in a half hour. We’ll also have lunch there.” April nodded. “Let me get this vest off and get my things by the pool. Should I meet you at the front door in ten minutes?” “Sounds like a plan,” Emily announced happily, turning to jog back across the white sand beach. April quickly tugged at the large metal zipper of her life vest. She gave it three tries, each time pulling harder, without success. Finally Roman moved forward, pushing her hands out of the way so he could have a go at it. On the first try it released with a jerk, with him once again moving it down, ever so slowly over the swells of her breasts. She didn’t know if he was doing it deliberately, but for some reason he seemed to be taking his sweet time. Her breath stalled completely in anticipation, his long brown fingers lightly skimming the white mounds of her breasts above her skimpy bikini top. She dared to glance up. He was gazing directly into her eyes, his own deep brown ones reflecting a smoldering fire, his strong jaw tight, his lips nothing but a firm, grim line, almost as if he were being 103
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tortured. She saw him swallow hard, his prominent Adam’s apple constricting with the motion, while he finished with the zipper. After which he achingly, inch by inch, pulled the vest back off her shoulders in order for her to remove her arms from it. In the process she leaned forward to wiggle out of its tight confines, her breasts barely contained now in her tiny bikini, straining abundantly against his chest, grazing his warm skin while she attempted to free herself. She heard his sharp intake of breath right before he swore again in Spanish. This time he did so loudly, as if he couldn’t help himself and didn’t care in the least who heard. “Thank you,” she murmured weakly, her voice shaky and devastatingly frail as she stepped away from him, finally free. She knew they were close to overstepping the boundaries they’d set. Dangerously close. But for some reason, it seemed neither of them wanted to stay behind the drawn line. “And thanks again for the ride.” He nodded, looking anything but happy with her. “You should get out of the sun,” he suggested, his voice strained. “Your skin is so fair you can burn even in the morning hours down here.” “I have sunscreen on, but I think I’ve had enough sun for one day,” she agreed, acknowledging a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know if she felt ill from too much sun or if she was just terrified from what had happened between them. “I guess I’ll see you later tonight.” “Tonight,” he growled in response. She turned and made her way across the burning hot sand, producing a wincing reaction as the vulnerable soles of her feet made contact with the fine-grained beach. Without hesitation he came behind and scooped her into his arms, holding her gently until they reached the grassy lawn. She was stunned. The sand had scorched the 104
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tender undersides of her feet, but she hadn’t said a thing, only wished she’d brought sandals with her until she felt Roman lifting her once again. He didn’t look down at her, only held her in his arms until he gallantly lowered her onto the soft, silky grass. The leftover morning dew bathed her parched soles with instant relief. She shivered involuntary, not sure if it was from the cool grass between her toes or what he’d done for her. Her body trembled again as he released her. “Uh…thanks…see you later,” she mumbled faintly, walking away from him in a daze, not waiting for a reply. She simply wanted—no, needed—time alone to figure out why she was suddenly, wildly, undeniably…falling for Roman Vasquez.
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Chapter Nine The sparkling Florida sun had already set as April got out of Emily’s sports car feeling new and improved, straight from The Spa at Sand Bay. Both women sauntered toward the front door of Lana Vasquez’s home with complimentary pink bags of pricy spa lotions and shampoos in hand. For April, each step closer made her breath heavier with tension, while at the same time her throat tightened and constricted with raw nerves. She was positive she was having another panic attack like the one she’d experienced on Roman’s plane the day before. Only this time, he wasn’t here to hold her hand. She also knew her jagged nerves had nothing to do with the wedding. Instead, her panicky state had everything to do with this morning on the beach. Something crazy and unplanned had occurred between the two of them. She’d seen it in his dark eyes: a look of complete shock, surprise, wariness and she’d been the same. It was similar to the way a person can walk through life thinking they know exactly what’s in store for them—only to have their life turn out completely different in an instant. In New York she knew exactly who and what he was. Down here in Miami, he was so unlike the man she’d met six months ago and seemed almost…almost as if he were experiencing feelings toward her. Oddly enough, he looked as baffled about it as she felt. There was also the way he looked at her with those arresting dark eyes, and the way he touched her so gently, kissing her this morning with a passionate, loving tenderness that 106
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spoke of deep-seated feelings. Not only that, but the man was continuing to disarm her with his attentiveness and old-fashioned charm. She’d pegged him as someone who never had a second thought of anything or anyone but himself. That was until he told her about his plans for the children’s hospital wing and showed her how sincere and loving he was to his family members. All that, combined with a repeated flash of how he’d gazed down at her breast spilling out of her bikini top while she pulled off her life jacket, made her wilt with explicit longing. She replayed for the hundredth time his fierce expression as he slowly released the zipper. He’d definitely been interested, if the wicked gleam in his eyes was any indication. Remembering made her die a little with her desire for a repeat. This whole situation is becoming seriously bizarre. On the verge of being overwhelmed, she told herself to calm down and act as if marrying Roman Vasquez was a part of any normal day. It was business. Not pleasure. If she remembered that, she could get through the evening intact. She groaned in false bravado and knew she had absolutely no ability to believe that stupid statement. Wimp. Lost in thought, Emily ushered her through the bustling house—now a flurry of activity with caterers and various delivery people—directly to her room, giggling that she didn’t want Roman to see the bride before the wedding. In response, April openly glared back at her friend. Having already showered at the spa, with her hair expertly fashioned in a sexy upswept hairstyle, only left her to complete her makeup and step into her dress. Emily promptly excused herself to find her husband Jake and to get ready for the night 107
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ahead. After the bedroom door closed, April noted the evening hour was fast approaching. With hurried movements, she carefully stripped off her pink tank, mindful of her hair, before tugging off her jeans, panties and bra. Next she slipped on a pair of lacy white barely there panties, sans a bra, only covering herself in a thin robe as she did her light makeup. In the adjacent bathroom, she studied her face in the mirror, deciding to forgo too much glitz. Instead she applied the barest of eye makeup along with a few coats of mascara, then a quick dusting of translucent face powder, with a soft luminizer to her cheekbones, followed by a light pink blush over the top. Finally she coated her lips with a sheer peachy coral gloss. The sun she’d gotten this morning added a warm glow to her skin. Outwardly she looked like a radiant bride—when in reality she felt like the worst fake. She put her makeup away and walked back into the bedroom, absolutely hating the mix of feelings inside her, like a sky full of butterflies were rumbling around in her stomach. She also felt a heavy dose of self-loathing from the way she was betraying Roman’s mother and all the others invited tonight. Most of all, she hated him for putting her in this position and for how easy he made it all seem— like it was no big deal, as if he signed marriage contracts every blasted day of the week. She took her dress off the hanger as a flash of what he’d told her this morning resonated in her mind…trust me. She released a slow moan and shook her head, holding her dress to her breast. Nothing about him made sense. How could the man be so sincere about helping others but not blink an eye about unmercifully manipulating her? She took her dress off the hanger and stepped into it, pulling it up and over her hips and adjusting 108
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the tiny straps over her shoulders before arranging the neckline to enhance her breasts. At the same time she wondered what in the world had possessed her to buy such a revealing dress. The silk gown was cut to skim her body and featured a daring bust line; the silk material purposely designed to drape low in a cowl-neck fashion, slightly over and under her full breasts. Next fitting snuggly in the bodice and hips, then falling elegantly down to the floor, flaring to a fluted hemline that flattered her soft curves. The back was equally daring, with a dramatic plunging style that showed off her toned, delicate torso. She stared at herself in the mirror and bit her lip in self-doubt. The plunging bust line left no room for any kind of bra whatsoever, which in turn made her feel sexy but vulnerable. Although, when she took another glance, she had to admit she did look good—that was the sole reason she’d impulsively chosen the dress in the first place. Her breasts were high and round and filled out the top portion beautifully. She smoothed the silk over her hips and slipped her feet into matching silver-white, jewel-encrusted open-toed heels. The only thing left was her earrings, which were a simple combination of drop pearl and diamonds her sister June had given her on her last birthday. She was putting the back on the second earring when a knock sounded at the door and opened a moment later. Emily stepped into the room, dressed in a fulllength strapless gown of a bright fuchsia. The overly vivid material clung to her every curve, and April thought only a woman with such beautiful dark coloring could wear such a daring dress. “April!” Emily gushed, closing the door and coming to stand in front of her as April added a simple pearl bracelet to her wrist. “That dress—it’s amazing! Wow! Totally hot. I can’t wait to see 109
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Roman’s reaction when he sees you in this.” April immediately went on alert. “Do you think it’s too much? Too revealing?” Emily laughed. “For my brother? No way,” she declared. “He’ll love it.” She shook her head with uncertainty and spritzed herself with perfume, worrying all the more. “I guess. But then it doesn’t really matter if he likes it or not. I’m only marrying him so he can build the hospital wing. Nothing more.” Emily looked taken aback at her friend’s truthful, albeit cold admission. “I suppose you’re right. But think about it, April. Don’t you ever wonder why you and Roman hooked up? Why you’re standing here tonight instead of some other woman?” There was a peculiar tone to her friend’s voice, almost as if she knew some secret insider information. April quickly brushed her suspicions aside and looked at the situation logically, like any good attorney’s assistant would. “What are you talking about? It was a fluke. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.” “Maybe you were in the right place at the right time,” Emily countered softly. “Very funny, Emily.” She wasn’t the least bit amused by her friend’s strange comment. At the same time, she found herself distracted by another matrimonial detail. “Oh, my gosh! I absolutely forgot…I need a maid of honor. Do you think—” Emily smiled. “Of course I will. I was going to mention it earlier, but I forgot.” “Who will be Roman’s best man? Jake?” “No, Rafael Quintero. He’s Roman’s best friend since childhood.” The swarm of butterflies revived themselves once again in her stomach, along with an added guilty queasiness. “This is really becoming a 110
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production. Family, childhood friends, a full moon…” she listed off, sounding and feeling completely overwhelmed as any bride would. “If you think that’s a lot to process, wait until you see what the wedding planner has done outside around the pool.” Emily’s eyes widened with concern at April’s sudden paleness. “No, I take that back! Forget everything I said and focus on Roman when you’re out there.” April’s stomach did another flop and landed hard. “Is that little piece of advice supposed to help—or make me bolt to the nearest airport?” Emily laughed and gave April a light hug, so as not to wrinkle or muss anything. “It’s time, sweetie.” “Time?” she asked hesitantly. “Come on, girl—it’s time to go out and get married. Oh, I almost forgot. Here…these are for you.” Emily pushed a simple but elegant bouquet of cream roses at her. April accepted the beautiful classic arrangement with unsteady hands. “These are stunning. Your mother has excellent taste. The color matches my dress perfectly.” Emily smiled with a conspirator’s grin. “Actually, Roman went out and got those himself this afternoon,” she told her. “He asked me what color your dress was.” “Really?” she bumbled, not knowing how to respond. She was shocked to say the least. She took a deep, reaffirming breath. “All right…okay…I’m ready to become Mrs. Roman Vasquez, whether I want to or not.” Emily laughed and took April by the arm, and together they walked along the hallway, down the winding stairway, through the entry foyer, and back past the main living area toward the open French doors leading out to the patio and pool. Night had fallen, the silvery full moon was 111
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rising, and beyond the threshold the women could see a mass of people mingling and talking amongst themselves, some with flutes of bubbling champagne in hand, all outfitted in finery appropriate for a romantic New Year’s Eve wedding. Around the patio and pool area exotic flower arrangements mixed with red roses adorned every flat surface, along with hundreds of flickering candles that radiated a warm, illuminated glow and added a heady, sensual element to the scene. The voluptuous sounds of soft jazz floated through the air, filling the atmosphere with a score of pure romance. Holiday touches were also present in the orange trees, which had been strung with white lights. On the dining tables, silver and gold New Year’s Eve accents festooned the arrangements to give the matrimonial occasion a sophisticated festive flare. Besides looking dreadfully expensive, the setting was downright evocative, romantic, and definitely over-the-top sexy. To cap it off, the band started to play Seal’s incredibly romantic “Kiss from a Rose,” signaling her entrance. April took it all in as she fought down another rise of sheer panic. She looked to Emily for support. “Well, I think it’s safe to say this will be the sexist wedding I’ll probably ever have—if that’s worth anything,” she commented, trying to cover her rattled nerves. Emily chuckled at her friend’s dire humor. “Remember this is a wedding—not a prison sentencing,” she urged, at the same time giving April a gentle nudge through the doorway as everyone turned to look at the bride. **** Roman fidgeted with his watch, pulled at his tie, and glanced at the French doors for what seemed like the millionth time. All two hundred and thirtyfour guests his mother had invited at the “last minute” were standing and mingling amongst 112
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themselves while patiently awaiting his intended bride’s arrival. Since the wedding ceremony would be short and to the point, he had instructed the wedding planner that formal seating wasn’t necessary. He’d also promised his mother’s event organizer that if she kept the entire wedding mess down to three hours—tops—he would double her fee. If he was going to get married it would be fast, as painless as possible, and over in record time. That was the game plan until a quiet hush fell over the waiting crowd and he turned to look at the woman walking toward him, her step hesitant and slow. His stomach twisted in knots at the sight of her as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. A stimulating shot of adrenaline rushed through his system. There was no doubt about it. She was simply the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Nothing compared to her. Not watching the sunrise atop of a snowy cliff; not even blue Hawaiian waves crashing on black sand beaches. Nor the sight of a tranquil mist as it floated past a green mountainside on a rainy morning…nothing compared to how she looked at this moment. A feeling of helplessness overcame him, tangled with striking fear. It was the same feeling he experienced each time he set eyes on her. Unable to explain them, he’d pushed these feelings aside for the past six months. Now with her gliding toward him, he knew why he’d felt that way…he wanted her, needed her, and somehow desired to possess her completely. He wanted to have her for himself. He couldn’t deny it anymore. From the first minute he laid eyes on her, he’d known she was for him. She’d walked into that conference room at the law firm and left him tongue tied and downright weak in the knees. From that minute on, nothing seemed to make sense to him anymore. His single life—and what he’d thought was so important 113
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before—seemed inconsequential after meeting her. He’d talked a good game these past six months and almost had himself convinced he could move on without her, that he didn’t need her or anyone to make him complete. He never had in the past, and like some jackass, he’d been stubbornly determined to prove himself right. But in reality, he was exactly where he’d secretly hoped to be with her—in a way, at least. He gazed down at the woman now at his side and fought to breathe. For a split second he wanted everything to be real. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs that she would be his, to have and to hold. But then he remembered the contract and the night at his apartment, and a flash of her telling him who her perfect man would be. He fell more than a little short of what she wanted in a husband. A cold chill ran down his spine as sweat broke out on the back of his neck. She stood faithfully next to him, a soft smile on her mouth for him alone. Unprompted, she moved her gaze upward to connect with his, flashing him a knowing glance from those killer violet eyes. Tonight they gleamed deep amethyst in the candlelight, making him transfixed all the more. He also couldn’t ignore how beautiful and desirable she looked. She was stunning, alluring, and provocative in her wedding dress that hid none of her luscious attributes. The gown only announced and proclaimed them fully. Her breasts were abundant and perfectly rounded, filling out the silky material that skimmed daringly across and below the perfection of her form, the rest of her curves covered sinfully in more cream silk, hinting at and emphasizing her beautifully silhouetted body and firm derriere beneath the fabric. Her dark blonde hair, like burnished gold, was piled provocatively in a tousled knot, with wisps cascading around her 114
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satiny peach cheeks and elegant neck. He took a deep breath, awkwardly tried to clear his extremely dry throat, and quickly glanced at his best man and friend Rafael for support—only to find his buddy staring at his bride-to-be and her stunning cleavage. He felt a wave of testosterone surge through him. Frustrated and slightly pissed, he ground his jaw and moved over one step to block his friend’s direct view. Jealously, protectiveness, and total domination ran unchecked through his already hot blood. He had to stomp down the urge to take off his suit coat and throw it over her to cover what should be for his eyes alone to feast on. The judge instructed them to hold hands. Trying to get it together, he watched as she handed the bouquet of flowers he’d bought her, over to his sister and then turned back to him. She next slid her small, delicate hands along his upturned palms until he finally clasped hers within the confines of his own. The intimate contact made his breath catch while his heart practically stalled. When he thought it couldn’t get any worse, she moved closer to him, giving him a free all-access view of her awesome rack: teasingly full, lush, and tempting beyond belief. His nose caught her tantalizing perfume and the sexy, feminine scent of her skin just as he had the other night in his apartment right before he practically mauled the woman. Restrained tonight, by the fact two hundred and thirty-four wedding guests were witnessing his every move, all he could do was grind his jaw and think of anything but the fact he seriously wanted to get naked with the woman right now. She looked up and gave him the full, potent force of her violet gaze, and he was hopelessly lost once again…like he’d been from the first day they met. Hell. I’m falling in love with my soon-to-be wife. 115
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Chapter Ten April tried to ignore her shaking hands and how weak her knees felt as she stared up into Roman’s dark and ominous-looking face. Walking toward him, she’d witnessed his carved jaw clench, prompting her to wonder if he was having as hard a time as she was with the idea of getting married. Under the black designer suit, crisp white shirt, and silvery silk tie, she noticed his body was tense and strained. As was his handsome, sculptured face. Seriously strained, in fact. I know I’m not his first pick as a bride—but really, does the man have to look so daunted at the prospect of marrying me? She pushed away another rise of panic and quickly took in the setting to distract herself. The full moon gleamed and sparkled on the now lightly rippled ocean, as waves quietly lapped the darkened beach. The abundance of red roses and exotic flowers was intoxicating, overwhelming, and pure heaven to the senses. Floating candles reflected on the pool’s surface also adrift with scattered rose petals. All that combined with the twinkle lit orange trees and candlelight flickering throughout the area made the evening a wonderland of romance. The judge promptly started the ceremony, saying a few brief words. April quickly refocused her attention on their vows. “.....and do you, April Spring Sutton, take Roman Carlos Vasquez as your lawful husband?” the judge asked. April looked up at Roman and noticed him 116
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raising an eyebrow in what could only be a direct comment to her middle name. “…Yes, I do,” she stated softly, taking her time replying to let him wonder for a brief second if she was going to say yes. A little payback for his raised brow. “Roman Carlos Vasquez, do you take April Spring Sutton as your lawful wife?” the judge asked again. “Sí,” he replied, his deep voice serious and husky, as he made his temporary commitment to her. Rings were brought forth, and he carefully slipped a gorgeous band of sparkling diamonds onto her ring finger; gently nudging it against her engagement ring as the multitude of guests released a collective hushed “oh” at the symbolic gesture. April shivered with nervousness as he held both her hands. Before releasing her he raised them to his lips, bending his head to kiss both her palms, his hard, warm mouth sensually paying homage to her sensitive skin. She felt a quiver of heat at his intimate touch. She pulled her hands from his and swallowed hard, turning to receive his simple platinum band from Emily. He held out his left hand, and she hastily slid it onto his ring finger with as little contact as possible. The judge said a few more words, then simply proclaimed them husband and wife. Following tradition, he slowly pulled her toward him while he angled his head, lowering his mouth onto hers. At first he only brushed his firm lips against her own, teasing her gently before capturing her mouth completely. She found herself giving in without a fight, willingly melting into him as she placed her hands on his strong, broad chest. Under her hands she felt his heavy heartbeat as he deepened the kiss into one that was passionate, 117
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amorous, and mind blowing. Their first fluke of a kiss had been fiery hot, the one in the foyer teasingly fun, and the kiss they shared on the beach this afternoon heart-stopping. But this kiss went way beyond any of those. There was something more demanding in this one. It felt serious—heartfelt, even. She didn’t know if it was the way he was holding her, or the ocean-side setting, or the romance of a moonlit wedding and the fact they were now married…but whatever it was, something was different. He pulled back from her, his dark, powerful gaze focused directly with hers as time stood still again for the both of them. His expression now one of serious contemplation—as if he were unsure of his next move. The crowd suddenly started to clap and shout best wishes in both English and Spanish, pushing forward to gather around, forcing the couple apart. Willing away the unexpected sense of loss from being temporarily separated, April instead put her game face on and smiled. First at her side was Lana Vasquez. April felt the sincere mothering love from Roman’s mother as Lana kissed her on both cheeks and hugged her tight as a welcome to the Vasquez family. Emily echoed her mother’s welcome while her husband Jake, tall, blond, and looking more like a surfer than a Wall Street broker, gently teased her about taking on Roman and his family. One by one April greeted the rest of the guests, as Roman stood tall and impressive next to her, never once leaving her side. Occasionally he put his arm around her middle, hugging her to his side, while he conversed with one guest or another, introducing her to cousins, neighbors of his mothers, friends of the family, and his own close friends. She found herself impressed at the beautiful gowns the women wore, all of them looking pampered and 118
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stylish. The men looked equally dashing in their suits, with some even sporting tuxedos, since it was New Year’s Eve. With formal introductions over, along with photos and the ceremonial cake cutting, April finally noticed Roman’s solemn mood lift somewhat as he joked with his buddies and his best man. All of whom were absolute hunks in their own right, in their thirties and successful. She watched as he accepted good-natured slaps on the back and the typical ribbing a man got when he gave up his longheld bachelorhood. Fascinated, she observed a Roman she’d never seen before as he smiled easily. For a moment, he almost looked as if he were a true groom. She’d drifted from him and now was on the opposite side of the pool, talking politely with his two great aunts and several of his female cousins. Unable to help herself, she glanced time and again across the shimmering water with its floating candles and petals. Occasionally he turned in her direction. Each time, his smoldering glances made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything his elderly great aunts said. “So how’s married life?” Emily’s whispered question caught her offguard. The great aunts wished her well and moved over to converse with some other guests. April turned and gave her friend a deep scowl. “You have a warped sense of humor.” Emily laughed heartily. “Maybe. But at least you made the deadline.” She handed April a fancylooking cocktail with an umbrella in it. “What is it?” she asked, accepting the mystery drink with hesitation. “Sex on the Beach,” Emily deadpanned. April raised one brow in query. “Is it possible to divorce friends?” 119
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Emily failed to stifle a wide grin at her own cleverness. “Fitting, don’t you think? I thought it went well with the whole romantic beachside theme. Besides, I promised you fancy drinks with umbrellas if you came to Miami—so drink up and let’s party, girl.” She knit her brows together and whispered in a hushed tone. “Hello. I don’t think we’ve met? I’m April Sutton—contract bride who was guilted and bamboozled into marrying your brother? Partying isn’t on my to-do list tonight.” Ignoring her friend’s badly timed humor, she took a swig of her fruity drink, barely refraining from guzzling the potent concoction. “Actually, I think the name is now April Vasquez.” She narrowed her eyes over the top of her tumbler. “Oh gee, thanks for the reminder.” “That’s what friends are for.” “I want my Christmas present back.” “Guess what? We’re sisters-in-law now. How cool is that!” April made a face and glanced about. She noted Roman was currently preoccupied with guests and wasn’t looking in her direction as she stealthy finished the rest of her drink. “Where do I get another one of these?” Emily laughed and took the glass away from her. “Sorry, sweetie, but that was your one and only for the night. Especially since my brother is now headed this way with a very stupid-dreamy look on his face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say—” “—oh, please, spare me,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear what Emily would insinuate next. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, Roman was headed her way with a fiery expression aimed directly at her. Feeling her core body temperature rise, she quickly looked away, 120
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annoyed he could play his part so well when she was finding it harder by the minute to keep up the charade. “Have fun, girlfriend,” Emily taunted, floating off in a fit of giggles. A waiter passed, and she snatched a glass of champagne and took a long drink. The sparkling liquid soothed her tight throat and pent-up nerves. Within a minute Roman found her and hugged her to his hard body. He pulled her back against him and lowered his head to snuggle her neck, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin below her ear. “Enjoying the party, Mrs. Vasquez?” he murmured silkily, his voice intimate. “As much as a contract bride can on her fake wedding night,” she countered, mystified as to how he could be so smooth and charming while fooling a multitude of friends and family. He leaned down again and brushed his lips to her ear. “Have I told you lately how much I love your snarky sense of humor?” Lucky for her the best man, Rafael Quintero, chose that moment to make a toast, so she was saved from kicking him in the shins. Somehow sensing her sulky mood, Roman released her, but still kept a loose arm around her waist. Together they listened as Rafael joked in a mix of Spanish and English about the groom and welcomed the bride to Roman’s circle of friends. She watched, fascinated at how incredibly good-looking Rafael Quintero was—and how much trouble he had speaking the English language. Roman had shared with her earlier that Rafael was originally from Spain and had moved to Puerto Rico as a teenager with his family, then to Florida a few months ago to start a new business; the suave Spanish businessman only recently learned English. She had to give him credit for trying, even though he struggled with it. 121
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After the toasts were concluded, Lana made her own announcement that everyone should help themselves to the buffet set up on long flowerarrangement-topped tables off to one side of the patio. Artfully created hors d’oeuvres, lobster, filet mignon, and impressive ice bowls of caviar made up only a portion of the tempting selections, along with many spicy Puerto Rican-inspired dishes that April could only guess at. Lana also had waiters circling the guests, offering more glistening champagne as the band started to play. April winced at the sound of the music, knowing she would have to dance with Roman. Is there a gracious way for a fake bride to excuse herself from dancing at her counterfeit wedding? With no plan, she reluctantly followed Roman across the patio with her hand firmly held in his. She felt as if a million eyes were watching them while he put his arm around her waist and gently pulled her to him, tucking her up against his hard body in a fashion that would have bordered on obscene back in her small hometown of Bernie, Ohio. She decided to give up and just go with the flow, placing one hand on his broad shoulder as he clasped her other and turned her with him to the sensual Salsa music. His magnetic gaze focused on her the whole time, which unnerved her all the more. “I think I should warn you that I have no ability to dance whatsoever and I get dizzy just turning in my desk chair,” she related, wishing he would stop looking so groom-like with that smoldering expression. He seemed to be working to hide a grin, obviously realizing she wasn’t kidding. She felt stiff as a board in his arms, and the poor guy had to practically steer her around to the music. “Latin music is very easy to dance to,” he told her. “Let go and feel the beat. April, loosen up a 122
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little. You feel as if you’re moving under protest.” She gritted her teeth, then remembered where she was and quickly softened her expression, trying hard to remember she was supposed to be enamored with the man. “What do you expect? I told you I can’t dance,” she whispered. He lowered his head in order to hear her softly spoken words, his fresh-shaved cheek brushing against hers ever so lightly. All around her was Roman Vasquez; his strong arms encircling her, his broad chest tight against her sensitive breasts, his muscled long legs bumping intimately against hers. The heat of his body radiated off him and engulfed her with a manly scent that was uniquely Roman. “You smell really good tonight,” he whispered, his words raspy and thick. “Oh…thank you,” she said stiffly, astounded since she was thinking the same thing about him. “And you look really beautiful. But then I thought you looked beautiful at work in your black skirts and white blouses. Still, this dress you’re wearing tonight makes every man wish he were me.” She was stunned. Caught off-guard by his admission that he not only thought she was beautiful tonight and liked her dress, but he’d actually found her attractive in the law office when he occasionally came in. “Your mother has absolutely outdone herself with this wedding.” She blatantly changed the subject and single-mindedly tried to stick by the rules of the contract they’d both signed. “I should go thank her for all the trouble she’s gone to.” He sighted heavily. “For some reason, the subject of my mother doesn’t seem like the kind of thing a newly married couple in love should be discussing.” “Oh really?” Clearly he wasn’t happy with the turn the conversation had taken. “Then would you 123
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like to talk about the new contract on the Kinnard acquisition and how it’s coming at work? We should have that contract just about worked out for you when the holidays are over.” He turned her around to the music in another searing, body hugging move, before answering. “Not really,” he bit out between clenched teeth. “I want to talk about you and how your skin looks like warm honey and how your eyes look like crystal pansies.” Not daring to raise her eyes to his, she felt her breath catch in her throat at his silky words. “Very good, but no one can hear what you’re saying to me. So you might as well save it for a more opportune moment when others are around to hear you.” Her sassy comment only got her a low growl from him. “Well everyone can see this,” he warned, lowering his mouth unto hers, to give her a heartrushing kiss that immediately lit her on fire. Flames of pure desire licked her insides, while her heart pounded wildly in her breast. He surprised her once again by switching up the kiss and deepening it, making it achingly sweet like he had down at the beach that morning. Before she could totally lose herself in him, he pulled back and nuzzled his nose against the side of hers, his heavy breath caressing her check while she tried to remember they had an audience. Confused and on a rush of newfound feelings, she stamped down her desire for a repeat and lowered her face into his suit jacket. “I’m sorry, April,” he said gruffly, sounding tortured as he released a long, ragged breath from his chest. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” “You didn’t,” she whispered, fighting tears as they threatened to fall, her heart breaking with each passing minute. She wanted so badly to confess to him that she hadn’t minded in the least…that his kisses made her world complete…made her feel 124
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wanted for the first time in her life. But she knew the cold, stark reality of real life was going to set in sooner or later—and then where would she be? Back to mending my heart all over again. “Don’t worry about it. People expect us to kiss. So it really doesn’t matter.” She felt him swallow hard and noticed his Adam’s apple bob with effort as he cleared his throat and nodded before answering. “Yes, it does matter. Everything about you matters to me.” She kept her head lowered still, not daring to get lost in his warm dark eyes again, wishing with all her heart she couldn’t hear the gruff, sincere tone in his whispered voice. It was making her think of what could be if they let this pull of attraction between them ignite. As the music continued, the dance area filled quickly with other couples, all more than eager to move to the spicy tones and vibrations of the live music. No longer the subject of interest, she pulled away from him. “I think I’ll go and get something to eat. I’m sort of hungry,” she lied, knowing she couldn’t eat a bite, only wanting to be desperately away from him and the way she felt around him. “Good, I’m starving,” he agreed amicably, once again capturing her hand in his to gently pull her through the throngs of dancers over to where the food and dining tables were set up. She fumed inwardly, her evasive plan of action thwarted once again. Absolutely oblivious to her hostile glances, he took a plate and politely inquired what she would like. Giving in, she shrugged with defeat. “Ah….a piece of that lobster and some of those little shrimp things,” she requested, trying not to sound too put out as he did his best to be civil to her. He picked up one of the appetizers she’d mentioned and held it out for her to sample in true 125
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groom fashion. “Here, open up and taste,” he ordered, looking very much the arrogant male she now knew him to be. In New York he was the ultimate suave metropolitan man. For some reason, down here in Miami he was all Latin, primitive, and macho beyond belief. She stifled a groan and opened her mouth as he tempted her with the morsel of shrimp wrapped in something that looked like seaweed. She bit into half of the tasty morsel and ate, watching as he put the remainder in his mouth and devoured it, his strong jaw muscles working. All the while, his smoldering brown gaze held tightly on to hers. For a split second, no one else existed as a thread of white heat passed between them: pure, uncensored, and scouring hot. She tore her eyes away from his and hid a hysterical giggle that threatened to erupt. The situation was becoming impossible. The more time she spent with him, the more she found herself strongly attracted to him and in turn, the more she came to despise him and the lethal Puerto Rican charm that seemed to ooze from him under the moonlight. Charm? Don’t forget the abs and devilish smile— and the fact you’re now legally married to the hunk. Peeved, she took her plate from him and plunked some fruit on it while he filled a plate for himself. He followed her to a table, pulled a chair close to hers, and proceeded to consume everything while she only picked at her food. Occasionally she found him staring at her and she hastily looked away, not wanting to get trapped in his heated gaze again. “Dance with me?” Rafael Quintero stealthily whispered in her ear with his thick accent, making her jump. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Uh, yes. That would be nice,” she faltered, noticing Roman didn’t look pleased in 126
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the least with his friend’s idea. Before leaving the table, Rafael said something in rapid Spanish to Roman, laughing with a trace of malice at the deadly glare Roman gave him in return. Not to be out done, her new husband quickly stood to help her with her chair but Rafael interceded, gallantly helping before leading her off to the dance area of the patio. He took her into his arms gently, welcomingly, and totally like a Spanish gentlemen. They didn’t converse but rather simply enjoyed the music. April caught a few glimpses of Roman as he now stood and talked to guests, his gaze moving over her briefly before turning away. She worked to keep up with Rafael and the complicated salsa steps, finally breathing in relief when he realized she wasn’t a very good dancer and adjusted his style to something basic she could follow. After two dances she pulled away from him, deciding she’d had enough. Rafael followed her back to where her food still sat untouched, motioning for a waiter to take it way and get her a fresh drink of sparkling water. His thoughtfulness touched her. “Thank you, Rafael, for asking me to dance. It’s so nice to meet you. Emily told me you’ve been friends with Roman since you were children.” “Sí…children,” he said, obviously concentrating on his English as he spoke slowly and deliberately. “Roman…he is…like a brother to me. When he first told me he is to be married…I don’t believe it. But I can see what he told me is true. He is in love. You are beautiful and have captured his corazon,” he spoke, motioning to his heart when he noticed her confusion. She felt breathless while she listened to Roman’s tall, impressive friend. “I think you’re mistaken. I don’t think someone like Roman could 127
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ever really love someone.” Rafael smiled secretively and leaned closer. “April…Roman would not be looking at me right now as if he wanted to put a…what is the word? Sí…a dagger in my heart if he was not in love with you,” he stated, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke. April felt herself blush and smiled reluctantly, willing herself not to turn and look for Roman. Obviously Rafael Quintero was playing with her while trying to rile his friend. “I see,” she said skeptically. “No, you must believe me. Roman has many girlfriends in the past but never jealous in his life. He is an easy-come easy-go kind of guy when it comes to women. But this…this is different,” he warned with a sexy smile, thoroughly enjoying himself at Roman’s expense, while at the same time sounding very sure of himself. “Sí, very different, mi mariposa.”
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Chapter Eleven Roman Vasquez, jealous? Absolutely not. Not in a million years. It was more likely the man was worried Rafael would reveal some deep, dark secret about him. Or that she would let it slip that his adoring wife had to be practically hog-tied, blackmailed and fast-talked into marrying him. “Mi mariposa?” she asked. Rafael laughed. “My butterfly,” he translated, giving her another dangerously wicked gaze she was sure Roman was witnessing. “Oh, right. That’s…ah…interesting. Will you excuse me Rafael? I need to go and talk to Lana,” she quickly stated, not wanting to play with fire anymore. Instead she slipped away with a sigh of relief to find her new mother-in-law. She scanned the crowd and found Lana talking to her neighbors from the house next door, whom April had met earlier. As soon as she reached Lana’s side, the neighbors gave her their best wishes and said they were leaving since it was late, almost midnight. The elderly couple walked away, and Lana turned to smile at her new daughter-in-law. “Oh, everything went so well tonight, April. Thank you for letting me arrange this wedding for you and Roman. You look so beautiful. I’m so proud to have you as my daughter-in-law.” “I feel the same.” April smiled down at the sweet woman, finding she was becoming attached to Lana Vasquez and her homey mothering ways after only two days. “But you shouldn’t thank me. I actually 129
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came over to thank you for making everything so wonderful. I couldn’t imagine a better wedding. You’ve outdone yourself with the beautiful setting, flowers, candles, food. Lana, I don’t know any other mother-in-law who would be able to supply a bride with the wedding of her dreams.” Roman’s mother laughed easily. “You made it so easy; you liked everything I suggested, agreed to everything, and let me be in charge. Plus, I have to confess I’ve had everything in the works for a while now with that ridiculous clause my father-in-law put in his will.” April was taken aback. “You know about that?” Lana Vasquez nodded firmly with a sly grin. “Of course, even though Roman thinks I don’t. A few months ago he was talking about needing money for something important. I believe it was a children’s hospital. Knowing how kindhearted my son is, I suspected he might honor his grandfather’s wishes and get married in order to get the trust fund. I’ve been on pins and needles this whole time, worrying who his bride would turn out to be. But it’s no matter now, since he found you in time and is happily married. It all worked out perfectly.” Her wide smile vanished, replaced with a look of concern. “I only wish you had some family here tonight, dear.” Flummoxed from the realization Roman’s mother was up to speed on the legalities—yet still thought she was perfect for her son—April tried to pull herself together. “Oh, well my sister June, who I mentioned last night at dinner, she’s really my only family. Both my parents passed away some time ago. The only other relations I have are a few cousins back in Ohio. It was nice that Emily was here, and Jake. We’ve become good friends over the past year.” “Sí, Emily. She told me about her nice friend April in New York and that she’d invited you for the weekend. Again I must say when we were first 130
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introduced, I didn’t think you were Emily’s friend. Since I never guessed you would show up with Roman this weekend instead of with her,” she joked, hugging April’s arm as she spoke. “Yes, it is strange how everything worked out. I would have never guessed Emily and Roman were related. But seeing them together now, I can easily see the resemblance,” she stated, glancing to where brother and sister stood talking to one another, both dark and very good looking. “Now, I hope you can come to visit often,” Roman’s mother replied, pulling her attention away from him. “Yes, that would be nice. I know this weekend was too much of a whirlwind for us to spend much time together,” she apologized, wishing she didn’t have to fib to Roman’s mother. She doubted she would ever be back once they left tonight. The thought made her ache with regret and pierced her eyes with hot tears. Lana waved her hands in the air, as if to push her concerns away. “Oh, don’t worry, dear. There will be plenty of time to get to know one another, especially when the babies come. You won’t be working, and I would love to come and help as much as possible. We will have lots of time to get to know one another. Still, I wait and wait for Emily and Jake to give me some grandchildren, but maybe you and Roman will be first, sí?” She felt as if the wind had suddenly been taken out of her sails. Babies? A wave of hysteria was setting in. Babies definitely hadn’t been in the contract. “Uhh…well…I don’t know about children. I mean, I love the idea of having children, but Roman’s not big on kids,” she stated, trying to say it as gently so as possible as not to hurt Lana’s feelings. As if it was the most natural thing to do, he 131
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came up from behind her and slipped a possessive arm around her waist, obviously having heard her last comment. “I could be persuaded—with the right woman.” She turned to look at him, feeling faint at his cruel words. Words that gave her hope only to pull it away. What she wanted most in the world within her reach, only to have it slid out of her fingers at the whim of one man. She would be darned if she was going to let him see how much his words had hurt her. “And where are you going to put all these children? In your one-bedroom loft?” she inquired. “Maybe you should start with a cat first and see how it goes.” She watched as he simmered for a moment before beaming a sexy grin upon her. “It’s New Year’s Eve and almost midnight. So you know what that means.” “It’s almost January first?” she quipped. Lana Vasquez laughed and excused herself to talk to some more guests. He ignored her attempts at riling him further. “It’s traditional to have someone lined up to kiss at midnight. Since it’s our wedding night, New Year’s Eve, and my birthday in a few minutes—I thought you would be my first choice.” “All out of socialites and supermodels at the moment?” He grinned. “Totally out. And for the record, I’ve never dated a model, super or otherwise.” “Thanks for the info.” “So…about that kiss?” “Well, I did sign the contract, so I guess I’m contractually obligated,” she stated, not letting him forget she was doing this for only one reason—the hospital wing—and not because she wanted to be with him. Oh, cough it up already…you’re into the man. Okay, but that doesn’t mean I have to lose my 132
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head and become a simpering female around the guy. His good humor finally dissipated. “Can we just do this and get it over with?” “Another one of the smooth lines you tell your women? I can see why they flock to you as they do.” “April,” he warned, sounding like he either wanted to strangle her on the spot or throw her over his shoulder and carry her off somewhere private. She hid her feelings behind a sassy comeback. “All right. Where do you want me?” He grabbed her hand in his and tugged her through the crowd, the music continuing, while the throng of guests prepared to ring in the New Year. Hats and horns were handed out, and everyone started the countdown. Roman continued to pull her across the crowded patio, down to the dew-laden lawn and onto the still warm beach where the moon shone brightly, illuminating the silky darkness. He stopped, bent down and pulled off her dainty high-heeled sandals, then his own shoes before capturing her hand in his once again. This time, he didn’t stop until their feet were splashing in the moonlit water as gentle waves lapped the sandy beach. “Roman, no one is going to see us down here,” she complained. “Exactly. This is for me,” he said roughly, pulling her to him as he placed her hands behind his neck and linked his own behind the small of her back. The caress of a tropical breeze floated across the bare skin of her naked back and arms, while gentle waves lapped at the hem of her wedding dress. He tucked her up against him, fitting her snuggly against his hard length. All the fight went out of her replaced with a hidden longing she hadn’t expected. Speechless, she looked up at him as he lowered his firm mouth onto hers. His kiss was surprisingly gentle at first, almost loving, before it 133
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deepened into something urgent, bordering on dangerously wild. She sank into him as he pulled her up even tighter against him in a rough fashion. Their tongues greedily slipped against one another as he drew hers into his mouth, showing her a decisively naughty way of kissing she’d never thought existed. For April, it was one of the most romantic, sexily-passionate, and heart-stopping moments she’d ever experienced. And the most confusing. With soft moonlight overhead, the feel of tranquil waters at her feet, and the sounds of music and guests ringing in the New Year, she guessed any woman would get swept away—especially when someone like Roman Vasquez was kissing them like there was no tomorrow. Any woman. She was another woman in the long line that had come before her, and she wasn’t the last in the line, either. She pulled back and decided she had enough for one night. “Roman…stop,” she pleaded, moaning involuntarily as he trailed his warm lips over her sensitive neck. He ignored her completely and continued his passionate onslaught, taking little love nips with his teeth on her neck and earlobe. “Baby, I’ve been dying to do this all night,” he ground out, pushing the strap of her dress away with his fingers to leave a string of teasing kisses across the silky skin of her delicate boned shoulder. “Damn, you taste so good.” His raspy spoken words almost swayed her. “Is that all for tonight? I’d like to go pack and leave if that’s all right with you. I don’t think your mother expects newlyweds to stay here tonight,” she whispered, fighting her addiction to his touch. At the bland tone in her voice, he pulled back to gaze down at her. In the faint light that spilled from the moon overhead, she saw him clench his jaw, 134
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while his eyes narrowed. He swallowed hard and seemed to be fighting to keep himself from contradicting her. He also looked absolutely wounded. Who would have guessed? Although, come to think of it, it is the guy’s birthday after all. Great. Now I feel like a total jerk. Ugh. This contractmarriage thing is harder than I thought it was going to be. She pushed away the onslaught of guilt and felt his body stiffen before he pulled his arms from around her. “Yeah, all right. If that’s what you want…we’ll leave. I’ll call the pilot and tell him to get the plane ready,” he murmured, his voice holding a kicked-in-the-guts quality to it. “We don’t have to fly home tonight. If you want to stay longer, then—” “No,” he refuted quietly, walking to their shoes and bending to gather them. “Go pack and I’ll make our excuses.” She flinched from the coldness in his voice and snatched her sandals from his hands before dashing past him up the beach and across the lawn, slipping by the crowds of merry wedding and New Year’s Eve celebrants, to enter the house through a side entrance. Once in her room, she closed the door and leaned against it. She was shaking and felt close to tears. More than close, as they suddenly started to cascade down her cheeks with the force of a waterfall. She wiped at them with the back of her hand. He hadn’t played by the rules. Wearily, she pushed herself off the door and gently stripped off her dress. She dried the wet hem with a towel and carefully folded the gown before packing it in tissue. With that done, she put on a fresh pair of lacy sheer black panties and matching bra. Opting for the tiny fitted black summer dress 135
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she’d brought with her, she slipped it on and guessed she could change into her winter things on the plane later. After gliding her feet into a pair of black strappy heels, she finished packing her toiletries and clothes. With her one suitcase closed and fully packed, along with matching garment bag, she looked around the room once more, hearing the party noises still coming from down below. She moved over to the window and glanced down. Outside, the New Year had begun, and everyone was in a spectacular mood. Champagne flowed, and the wedding guests were having a fabulous time dancing the night away under the moon and glittering stars. She couldn’t help it, but more hot tears flowed from her. Tonight should have been special; shared with a man who adored her, loved her, and cherished her. Not with a man who considered marriage as a business deal. Do I want tonight to be real? Do I want to fall in love with Roman Vasquez? Absolutely not. Maybe. I have no idea. She wiped her face delicately with a tissue and told herself to stop being such a wuss. She needed to face reality. The man was impossibly good looking, and any woman with red blood would want to jump into bed with him—her included—but where would that get her? She deserved the whole package. Love, marriage, and the family she always dreamed of having. Getting involved with him would only be bad news, a big mistake, and seriously doomed. Her own smart-ass thoughts from the other night—pre-wedding contract debacle—flashed in her mind. From now on, my life is all about a new year, new apartment, and hopefully a new man. A guy who 136
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is normal and down to earth, thoughtful, kind, understanding, who wants nothing but a relationship that’s equal on every level. Fun, too. Absolutely, the guy has to be fun. And if he’s totally hot and good in bed—that will definitely be a plus in my life… More than depressed, she grabbed another tissue and blew her nose, then went and splashed her face with cold water, glad she was alone and not crying in front of him like a total ninny. She did a quick repair of her makeup and tossed her toiletries bag into her suitcase. Finally she plunked herself down on the bed and sighed heavily, adding in an extra hiccup-cry for good measure. The only silver lining in her sad mixed-up life was the fact she was at least helping a lot of people with this deal she’d made. A quiet knock sounded on her door, and she went and opened it to find him standing outside, also changed from his suit into a more casual outfit of a black T-shirt and faded jeans. She handed him her bags and took one last glance around the room before following him downstairs. Outside they were barraged with guests tossing birdseed and wishing them well as they continued to play the part of newlyweds. They drove in silence to the airport, both solemn and reserved compared to how they’d been on the trip out a little over twenty-four hours ago. At the airstrip Roman parked next to his jet, ushering her into the sleek aircraft as he tossed her bags in the plane’s bedroom, before going to speak with the pilot as he had done before they’d taken off in New York. April buckled up and looked out at the twinkling Miami skyline. Tonight had been magical, and no matter what, she would never forget how special his family had made her feel. Pulling her gaze away from the view, she wiped a reluctant tear from her 137
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cheek and told herself that tonight was over. Tomorrow was coming soon enough, and the reality was this thing between her and Roman was pure business. Even if her feelings toward him were now forever changed. She felt the powerful jet engines come to life, and at the same time he made his way back through the cabin toward her. She avoided his eyes and instead concentrated on fishing out a magazine from her handbag. With a flourish she opened it and propped it in front of her face, hoping he would get the hint and leave her alone for the rest of the flight home. He swore under his breath in Spanish, but she ignored him, continuing to fake-read her magazine. The powerful jet engines pushed the plane down the runway and up into the air, rocketing away from the ground in mere seconds. Her breath was labored and she forced herself to concentrate on a fashion layout in the magazine, the sparkling diamonds on her left hand, and anything else in order to distract her from the fact they were headed straight up into the air and banking a hard right at the same time. “April?” She glanced across the aisle to Roman and saw only heartwarming concern on his handsome face. “I’m all right. I’ll be better when we level off, though,” she said shakily. He reached across and held out his hand, then waited patiently until she placed hers in his warm, comforting grasp. With his touch, she found herself relaxing instantly. “You know you’ll have to get used to flying in the jet. I travel a lot. I’m sure you’ll get used to it the more you do it,” he spoke softly and with a low tone. Mesmerized by his touch, she had to work to make her brain form a response. “I doubt I’ll fly with 138
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you after tonight. Although I have six weeks of vacation to use, I thought I’d save it for a trip to France. I always wanted to go and stay in Paris and then see the wine country. Actually, Emily thought she might like to join me,” she spoke, realizing he’d become very still and silent. He reflected on her answer. “Yeah…guess you’re right.” She noticed a tightening around his mouth as he slowly released her hand. “Sorry, I was rambling on,” she apologized, yawning suddenly with a shiver. “Roman, is there a blanket I could use—” “Of course.” He quickly cut her off and undid his seat belt. “I’m sorry, April. You must be worn out. If you like, you can go in the back and sleep and I’ll wake you when we reach New York,” he suggested, impatience echoing through his voice. “That sounds great,” she whispered, frustrated by his ever-changing attitude. “I’ll get some extra blankets for you too.” She undid her seat belt and rose to follow him into the back cabin of the plane. She kicked off her heels and glanced around nervously. He was standing so near, she felt surrounded by him no matter where she moved in the minuscule cabin. He reached up above the bed and retrieved an extra blanket from an overhead compartment before pulling back the comforter. “Climb in and I’ll cover you up. It’s cold back here,” he ordered. “Really, I can cover myself up,” she protested, wishing he would just leave her alone. “In!” he barked. “Or I’ll throw you in myself!” “All right, all right,” she seethed. “You don’t have to act like a Neanderthal.” “Lady, you make me feel like a Neanderthal every time I look at you!” With that remark, she hopped into the bed and looked up at him with wide eyes. Angrily he dumped 139
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the covers down on top of her and tossed the extra blanket on top of her besides. “Don’t worry. An army of men couldn’t get me to break Section Eight of the contract!” “Good! See you when we get to New York,” she snapped, rolling over and turning away from him before he had a chance to reply. She heard him pound out of the tiny sleeping cabin, the door slamming behind him. With a long sigh of regret, she wondered what made her act so horribly toward him. She’d never treated anyone like that, or even thought she was capable of doing so. But with him it was as if another person was living inside of her. If she wanted to be truthful, it had been like that from the very moment she had laid eyes on him. In short, the man made her totally crazy. Resolved to forget the heart-stirring feelings he evoked in her, she decided to sleep instead. After barely getting any shut-eye the night before, and the long day she had gone through, it only took seconds for her to drift off into a deep slumber, helped along by the drumming noise of the jet engines. She slept heavily, until sometime during the night when she woke to a warm touch on her cheek and the far-off sound of a deep gruff voice calling her name. Reluctant to open her eyes, she instead pushed the hand away and heard the voice chuckle softly. “April, we’ll be landing soon. You need to be in a seat and buckled before we land,” Roman again interrupted her coma-like rest. With a long moan, she opened her eyes and looked directly up into his. Her first thought was how sinfully sexy his brown eyes were. Like seriously dreamy hot. Without thinking, she realized she’d told him that very thought—instead of only thinking it. 140
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With a look of smug arrogance, he grinned down at her. “All my women tell me that,” he whispered, laughing at her sleepy admission. “Come on, time to buckle up.” In one swoop, he bent down and swept her out of the bed and into his arms. He carried her effortlessly back out into the main cabin and lowered her gently onto one of the double seats, buckling her safety belt securely before taking the seat next to hers. Embarrassed at having spoken her private thoughts, she avoided his eyes. Instead she glanced out sleepily to the glittering New York skyline, with its massive bridges and distinctive skyscrapers highlighted like towers of sparkling diamonds against the night sky. Within minutes they were on the ground, and Roman quickly undid his belt, then hers. Without a word he wrapped his heavy winter coat around her flimsy sundress, once again scooping her into his arms. Mindless to the snow and cold, he held her close to his hard warm body, carrying her out of the jet and down the steps to a waiting fourwheel-drive vehicle. The same man who’d met them at takeoff on Friday—a member of the ground crew, she guessed—stood silently at the SUV, holding the passenger door while Roman deposited her inside and secured her seat belt. She watched sleepily as he briefly conversed with the man before walking around to join her in the driver’s seat. She sat, stunned by the fast descent, exit, and rapid speed and ease which he traveled. She loved the way he could take a trip with minimal fuss or trouble. Everything was timed to the last second, fast, efficient, and effortless. With heavy eyes, she finally gave in and buried herself into the comforting warmth of his coat, where sleep overtook her instantly. **** 141
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Roman glanced over to the beautiful creature sitting across from him in the SUV and felt his heart flinch with pain. It was New Year’s Day, his thirtyfifth birthday, not to mention his wedding night, and the woman with whom he had exchanged solemn vows a scant few hours ago, was currently sound asleep. He had no one to blame but himself. He’d insisted she sign that damned contract. He should have known she would uphold and honor it to the very last detail. Did he really expect anything less from Miss April Sutton, the legal assistant he’d come to lust over for the last six months? In all that time she hadn’t once batted an eye at him, shown him any interest whatsoever, or even dished out one tantalizing smile to him. F’in anyway. What the hell made me think a little detail like marriage was going to change her attitude toward me? Tonight he’d gotten carried away with the whole damned romantic setting and how downright sexy she looked. Instead of rehearsed kisses and forced looks of sappy love, he’d found himself actually feeling like a groom as he sincerely complimented her, kissed her, held her, and outright flirted with her. Besides that, there was the surge of white-hot jealously he felt each time another guy looked at her. He also found himself wanting to be at her side, near her, touching her constantly, with a protective fierceness that shocked him. And what idiotic idea made me think it would be a good idea to win her over? That definitely hadn’t been the plan when he asked her to marry him. Everything was supposed to be cut and dried and by the book. But tonight he’d been unable to control his mind or body when it came to her. So where did that leave him now? Confused beyond belief…and horny as all get142
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out.
The hell with Section Eight. Totally pissed, he worked to concentrate on the snowy roads and tried to convince himself he wasn’t the least bothered by her attitude. He was Roman Vasquez, and he’d had a life before she wormed her way into it. He would be better off remembering that and the reason she was sitting across from him tonight. It was a business deal. Pure and simple. Nothing more. He worked to keep his sanity and refocus his attention on the snow-laden roads leading into the city, yet his gaze was helplessly drawn back to her time and again. To the female who happened to be snuggling down in her seat to resume her sleep. He liked the idea she was safely wrapped in his sheepskin coat. He knew it was crazy to feel this way—besides also being a kind of primitive male satisfaction thing—but he couldn’t help it. There was something about her that made him want to take care of her. He couldn’t understand it. Some things simply couldn’t be explained, and his feelings toward her were one of those things. It had been that way from the very first minute he saw her approaching him across the room. Days, weeks, months, he’d fought those feelings. By the looks of things, he would have to continue on that same path. She’d made it painfully clear over the past few days, at the wedding tonight, and then again on the plane as she spoke of her plans to travel, that she didn’t want or need him in her life. Isn’t this is what I wanted all along: no emotions, no commitments, no attachments? Helpless. He felt totally helpless to resist what was slowly overtaking him. It was pure male greed mixed with 143
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overwhelming need; the need to actually share his life with someone. A need he’d never experienced before. He glanced at her again. Another ragged knife pierced his heart. This time, it twisted painfully.
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Chapter Twelve Drifting snowflakes. April snuggled down into the luxurious bedding, blinking in an attempt to wake. Snow? She blinked again, opened her eyes wide, and looked straight above her. From the cozy warmth of her bed she could see a flurry of snow as it swirled aimlessly, wafting down to earth, which made no sense to her. Her bed at home positively did not have a skylight above it. She pushed the covers back and sprang up, glancing about on full alert now. This was definitely not her bedroom. Done in black, gray, and natural woods, it screamed Roman Vasquez. Without a doubt she’d spent the night in his bed. She peered under the covers and noticed somewhere or somehow her dress had been removed, since she was only covered in her black lacy bra and panties. Fiery heat flooded her cheeks, realizing he must have helped her into bed last night. Oh…just great. Sexy lingerie was one of her weaknesses. With a groan, she fell back against the pillows and pulled the covers over her head. Okay, she needed to look at this rationally. The man has seen me in a skimpy red bikini. What difference does it make if he saw me in a see-through bra and panty set? She was positive it wasn’t anything he hadn’t already witnessed a hundred times before. An abrupt flash of her whipping off her dress before climbing into bed last night played on repeat 145
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in her memory. Oh, no. He probably saw that too. She groaned out loud and blamed it on a lethal combination of lack of sleep, one awesomely wicked Sex on the Beach cocktail, plus one too many glasses of pricy French champagne. She pushed the covers back and noticed her bag at the foot of the bed. In the scrumptious adjoining bathroom, she quickly showered and put on minimal makeup before blow-drying her hair. The only winter clothes she had with her were the black cashmere vneck sweater and jeans she’d left in two days ago. With that being her only warm choice, she quickly pulled them on and exited the bathroom. One glance at his bed made her raise a brow. How many women had spent the night with him in that sexy bed? She gave the sleek platform-style bed another close onceover. It was definitely sexy, modern, low, and sensual looking. The rest of his sanctuary was equally smoldering, with rich thick carpet underfoot and drapes flanking either side of a soaring wall of windows. The only furniture other than the bed was twin night tables with matching lamps, a low-slung dresser, and the required flat screen. She quickly pulled the sheets and comforter over the bed and smoothed them out before replacing the pillows. She stood back and glanced at it one last time. At least he hadn’t been next to her this morning. She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. On that note she grabbed her overnight bag, along with the garment bag containing her now used wedding dress, and cautiously pulled open the bedroom door, taking a peek out into the hall before walking into the main loft area. “Roman?” Her voice echoed slightly in the cavernous living space. 146
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Abandoned on the long black micro-suede sofa was a rumpled pillow and blanket. She guessed it was where he’d spent the night. By the looks of it, it had not been a restful one at that. She glanced about the apartment. Should I leave? Stay? What did one do after one got married for business reasons? Was she required to hang around and say goodbye? The thought of not seeing him one last time didn’t sit well with her. Especially after how much they’d been through in the past seventy-two hours. Has it really been only three days since he first kissed me and turned everything upside down in my life? After dropping her bags at the front door, she walked back into the living area, amazed he’d actually plugged in the lights of his very sad-looking Christmas tree. That by now was even more threadbare, with a pile of needles mounded underneath. The poor thing seemed to struggle to keep the single strand of white lights on its droopy limbs. Typical single guy tree. She sighed heavily, shook her head in contemplation, and finally decided a quick cup of coffee would perk her up before heading home. If he wasn’t back by the time she’d finished her coffee, she would write him a note. In the kitchen was a large Italian coffee maker. It was a beast of a machine with all the instructions and buttons labeled in Italian. Of course he couldn’t have a simple old-fashioned coffeepot, she fumed, bumbling with what button to push and where to add the coffee beans. As she searched in vain for coffee filters, the apartment door opened and slammed shut. Her body tingled uncontrollably with anticipation, and she watched him saunter into the living room from the entry hallway. He shrugged out of his heavy winter coat and ran a quick hand through his damp black 147
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hair. From the surprised look on his face, he obviously hadn’t expected to see her in his kitchen making coffee. She stared back at him and held her breath. This morning he was dressed in sweat clothes and big heavy-duty Sorel boots. Without even trying, the man possessed the ability to be impossibly handsome and sexy first thing in the morning. “Good morning,” she chirped lightly, her voice higher than usual. “Morning,” he murmured, still watching her from across the room with a look of wariness on his unshaved face as he kicked off his boots. Neither of them moved but instead stood staring at one another. She felt her breasts swell uncomfortably under her tight sweater as he looked her up and down. The thought of him seeing her in her bra and panties flashed in her mind, and she quickly turned away from him, her face blushing beet red. “I was trying to make coffee, but I can’t understand how to get the blasted thing to work,” she complained, stepping over a foot as he came up behind her and took the bag of coffee beans out of her hands. “Allow me,” he whispered, looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. “You have to open the top here and pour the beans unground into it. Close the lid and push this button here. You don’t need a filter, and it grinds the beans for you. It has a direct water line so you don’t have to add water. That’s all there is to it.” “Oh…” was all she could get out. His nearness was unnerving as she fought back the urge to lean into him and all his warm maleness. Fresh air radiated off him, and she could see glistening wet drops in his black silky hair where snowflakes had obviously landed and melted. 148
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“Simple,” he said, still looking down at her with an intensity that made her wilt with uncontrolled heat. “Speak for yourself,” she choked out, sidestepping him to take a stool on the other side of the island. “I don’t speak or read Italian.” He laughed and leaned both arms on the slatetopped counter across from her. “So, did you sleep well in my bed?” he questioned, his voice both teasing and mocking. “Yes, but I would have slept better in mine. Why on earth did you bring me here? You could have simply dropped me off at my apartment. It was on the way.” “Yeah, it was, but unfortunately you were fast asleep and I was dead tired and couldn’t remember your street address or house number. So you ended up in my bed.” “Oh, please,” she whipped back with a roll of her eyes. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. Soon as I have a cup of coffee I’m heading home to salvage the rest of my holiday weekend.” “Good luck with that plan, Mrs. Vasquez. Have you taken a look outside today?” She grimaced, not liking the overconfident way he spoke. “No.” “We’re having a blizzard at the moment. Looks like you’re going have to make do by salvaging your weekend with me.” She slid off the stool and ran to the window, glancing to the snowy street below. Like he’d said, not a car was moving and the street was completely deserted. The normal bustle had been replaced with what looked to be a ton of snow, with more falling by the minute. It was a real New Year’s Day blizzard. Complete whiteout with high winds to match. “Oh, no! This is awful,” she moaned with unbridled dread. “I’ll be stuck here for the rest of the 149
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weekend.” “So…how do you take your coffee?” “Cream and sugar,” she murmured, totally defeated while seriously wanting to throw something at him. He fixed her a mug and pushed it across the island to her along with a self-satisfied look. “By that disparaging tone, I’d say the honeymoon is over.” She dished out a scathing glance in his direction. He only chuckled at her grumpy state. She finally relented. “Well, I guess it could be worse. I could be stuck at the Department of Motor Vehicles or on a sequestered jury panel.” He produced a fake-wounded expression and clutched his heart. “Oh, that one hurt. Thanks for that ringing endorsement.” He chuckled again and plunked his coffee mug on the counter before making his way down the hall to his bedroom, turning to address her while walking backward, a devilish smirk on his handsome face as his eyes narrowed sexily. “At least you didn’t say staying here with me was better than prison or Hell.” Despite herself, she couldn’t help but laugh as he disappeared into the bedroom. The sound peeled from her easily. She loved the fact that she couldn’t dent his armor. The man let anything she threw his way roll off his back with a humorous comeback, along with a sexy lopsided grin thrown in. He was much easier going than she first pegged him to be. She glanced at the clock above the big stainless steel refrigerator and noticed it was close to noon. Her empty stomach also made her aware of that fact by growling loudly. All she had eaten yesterday was a croissant, a few leafs of lettuce at lunch with Emily, a fork full of wedding cake from Roman, and the few bites he’d also fed her at the wedding 150
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reception. She wilted from the tantalizing memory of how he’d so enticingly fed her, and the way he’d gazed into her eyes with those liquid tawny-brown eyes of his. Hot shivers of remembrance bolted through her as she thought back to the night before and how passionately sexy he could be without even trying. It was simply a part of who he was. She took a deep breath to clear her head and went over to his refrigerator, surprised at the amount of food inside. It was almost as if someone had stocked it full. She suspected he had outside help who cleaned and took care of grocery delivery. She took out a carton of eggs and a few other ingredients to make omelets, one of the few things she was good at preparing. From having watched him cook pasta the other night, she remembered where his pans and cooking supplies were. Within minutes she had two omelets almost complete, with mouthwatering hickory-smoked maple bacon sizzling in another pan. As she cooked, bits and pieces from the night before continued to flash in her mind, making her hands shake slightly from their intensity: Roman and the way he looked so proud and handsome as she walked toward him, the warmth of his hands holding hers while he slipped the gorgeous band of diamonds next to her engagement ring, how sensually he’d kissed her when the judge pronounced them husband and wife. And how he’d deepened the kiss despite the fact he didn’t have to. With unsteady hands, she slid the second omelet out of the pan and onto a plate, hearing his bedroom door open. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that he’d showered and changed into some casual clothes; dressed today in well-faded jeans and a halfzip sweater in a slate gray color. His hair was slightly damp, and it appeared he’d passed on shaving, opting instead for a scruffy devil-may-care 151
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look that definitely made him even sexier. She placed their food on the dining table next to the windows. “I made omelets. I hope you like yours with everything?” “Sounds great. Thanks for making breakfast. Everything smells delicious,” he said quietly. In a contemplative mood now, he looked down at the food and then back at her. “Before we eat, I need to say something.” He paused, looking almost unsure as he swallowed hard and shifted his feet. “Uh, about last night—I’m sorry for getting pissed at you on the plane and storming out of the cabin. I was being a jerk to you when you deserve so much more. Yeah, well, that’s what I wanted to say.” She hid a grin at his very uncomfortable expression and at the same time found herself melting inside. “Totally forgotten. Besides, it’s not every day a guy has to get married because he’s in trouble.” He barked out a strong laugh and helped her with her chair. “Guess I never thought of it in those terms before,” he admitted, seating himself across from her. She laughed with him and watched fascinated as he tied into his food like his life depended on it. “This omelet is great,” he remarked, smirking wickedly at her. “Little did I know when we married I was also getting an experienced cook in the deal.” “Well, you’d better enjoy your first married meal—it’s also your last married meal. I hate to inform you, but this is my whole cooking repertoire.” “Not to worry. I can do all the cooking during our marriage.” “Absolutely. Why do you think I agreed to marry you so quick?” He chuckled at their banter and seemed to be enjoying the fact they were snowed in together. They finished their meal with Roman refilling their coffee 152
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mugs and then clearing the plates from the table. She took her coffee and leisurely wandered around his apartment, looking at photos and collectibles while he loaded the dishwasher and put his kitchen in order. At the tall windows that lined one side of the loft, she watched the snow swirl and blow with unbridled force, and a thought came to her. “You didn’t go out running this morning in this blizzard, did you?” she asked as he joined her by the windows with coffee in hand. He looked down at her with a sheepish expression. “No, I didn’t go out running,” he echoed, taking a drink before continuing. “I went downstairs and took out my neighbor’s dog. Mrs. Holland is very old, and I guessed her usual dog walker wasn’t going to make it here today, so I took her dog, Pixi, out myself.” “Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” she said tenderly, her heart softening. “What kind of dog does she have?” He eyed her over the rim of his coffee mug and took a big swig before answering. “One of those poodle things,” he finally confessed with extreme reluctance. Her body shook with laugher. Finally she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “A poodle? Weren’t you afraid of a tabloid taking a photo of you and ruining your macho image?” she teased, loving the way his face actually reddened under his swarthy skin. “Not in the least,” he protested, sounding very Latin. “I’m secure with my manhood.” “I’m sure you are,” she answered, still smiling. “So what do you want to do today?” “What are my options?” April saw the flicker of desire in his eyes, along with recognizing the suggestive tone in his husky voice, and knew exactly what he had on his mind, but she was determined to keep things between 153
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them neutrally amicable. Even if he is totally hot, and spending the day in bed with him is also on my mind? She looked up at him innocently, pushing her treacherous thoughts aside, and leaned closer to whisper, “Oh, I know exactly what we could do together. I’m dying to see your blueprints.” She savored the dejected look he gave her. “Blueprints?” “Yes. You know—plans for the hospital wing. ” She looked up at him with another naïve expression, well knowing he was disappointed. “Since I was the deal breaker, don’t you think I have the right to see the proposed plans? I’m interested, especially since I was the one who had to sacrifice myself for the addition to the hospital.” His dark eyes burn dangerously. “Of course, what else would a couple do on their honeymoon?” he grumped, giving in and walking over to his desk to open his laptop. In less than a minute he had the blueprints for the hospital on the computer screen while she observed over his shoulder. “These plans look amazing,” she murmured, thrilled at what she was seeing. He rose from his desk chair and held it out for her. “Have a seat. You’ll be able to see the screen better,” he urged, holding the chair for her as she gingerly took a seat. She looked at the screen but was instantly distracted as he leaned over her shoulder, firmly planting both hands on the desktop on either side of her. Patiently he talked her through the intricate and mind-boggling set of plans in a tough, husky voice that made her wilt. “Is your background in architecture or engineering?” she asked, wishing he would stop being so overly male all the time. Once again she was surrounded by him, assaulted by his warmth, 154
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male scent, and strength. If anyone had told her that talking about plumbing and electrical wiring would turn her on, she would have thought them nuts. But coming from Roman Vasquez with his Latin drawl, it was as if he were taunting and teasing her, like foreplay with words. The man didn’t fight fair. She guessed he knew exactly what he was doing when he suggested she take the chair. Surround the enemy and make them—or in this case, her—break. “Both. I have degrees in each,” he stated. “I went to college first before joining the Navy and becoming a SEAL.” “What made you want to join the military?” He shrugged and mulled over her question. “I guess I felt like it was something I needed to do. I have no regrets. The military was the best decision I ever made.” “But why become a SEAL?” “Again, it was more of a calling than a decision on my part. Being a SEAL is who you are. I think inside we all knew beforehand that being a SEAL was in our future. It’s hard to explain, but there was no question in regards to what I wanted to do when I joined the Navy.” “How long were you in the Navy?” “Eight years.” “Do you miss it? Being a SEAL?” “Sometimes. I miss the guys in my team and the adrenaline rush of a mission and the feeling of making a difference. But by the time I was due to reup, my father’s health was failing and I wanted to spend as much time with him as I could, so I left the Navy and moved back to Miami and decided to split my time between there and New York. At the same time I took over running the company.” “Sounds to me like you’re still making a difference.” “Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled, obviously gun shy 155
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about accepting praise. She nodded and concentrated on the layout in front of her. “I have to say it looks as if you have a beautifully planned out wing. But I see a few things missing.” Normally so self-assured, he looked puzzled, obviously not comprehending he hadn’t taken care of every last detail. “And what do you think is missing, Mrs. Vasquez?” he questioned, his dark eyes connecting with her as she swiveled around in the desk chair to face him. He was closer than she’d expected, and his nearness unnerved her and she fought to control her breathing. Up close he appeared even more powerful, with his strong bone structure and large, broad nose and deep-set eyes. His carved mouth was firm and sculptured, and the memory of how gentle it had been against hers caught her off-guard. “I was…I mean…I was thinking a classroom with a full-time teacher would be a wonderful addition. The children could keep up with their studies and feel like they had before their hospital stays. School is something children identify with and actually miss when they’re away from it for so long.” He contemplated her idea. “How do you know so much about children when you have none of your own?” She scoffed at him with an added laugh. “I used to be a kid once. Don’t you remember what it was like to be a child, home sick, wondering what everyone was doing at school?” “Yeah, I guess. I had a broken leg when I was twelve from racing my dirt bike. I was out of school for a week and thought I’d go crazy with my mother fussing over me all day.” He laughed at the memory. “I couldn’t wait to get back to school, even if I had to lug around twenty pounds of plaster on my leg.” April smiled easily. “Somehow that doesn’t 156
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surprise me a bit. Your poor mother; she must have a strong will to have you as a son.” “Yeah, I was forever going to the emergency room,” he confessed, still smiling widely at the memory. “April, your idea is excellent.” She bestowed another generous smile on him that was promptly rewarded by him taking her left hand to place a sweet kiss upon her wedding rings. He then turned her palm up to place another on the sensitive pad of her hand, setting off a chain reaction of sizzling shivers that raced through her at lightning speed. His gaze captured hers and they locked together, easily becoming lost in each other. The sudden intrusion of the phone made them break their contact. Roman excused himself, releasing her hand as he went to answer the call. With her heart still pounding, she listened as he answered in English but immediately switched to Spanish. Feeling like an intruder, she went to the front hall and fished out a magazine from her carryon bag and snuggled down onto the sofa. Given that the snow was still piling up outside, and she was stuck for the rest of her New Year’s Day, she decided to make the best of it by concentrating on something other than Roman Vasquez. Despite herself, however, she was still hopelessly drawn to his voice as he spoke rapid Spanish to whoever was on the other end of the line. She guessed it had to be family or a friend, since he paused occasionally to share a laugh. She looked up from her magazine and watched him uncensored while he sat on one of the island stools, his feet bare, his jeans stretched tight over his powerful thighs, his well-washed and faded sweater smooth over his broad shoulders and chest. She couldn’t help but stare at the man. He was a feast for any female’s eyes. In minutes he was off the phone and sitting 157
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across from her on the coffee table, his knees almost touching hers. “That was Rafael.” He looked at her with a sheepish expression on his face. “He meant to leave a message and was surprised to find us here. He apologizes for the interruption in case we happened to be in the middle of something.” She heard the teasing tone in his voice. “Oh, right. The big honeymoon,” she said blankly, trying to sound as bored with the subject as she could. Not in the least daunted by her attitude, he continued on. “He wanted to let me know the guys were still planning on our annual surfing trip to Hawaii tomorrow and would meet up with me later, after the holidays and our honeymoon. Rafael, Juan, a few others and myself always meet up for surfing the first week of January. He sounded really happy for us…for once.” His face took on a pained expression. “I feel guilty. He thinks we married for love, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. His wife, Julia, died a few years ago, and I didn’t want to him see our union as anything other than what he wanted to believe. It would have hurt him to see marriage taken so lightly.” April sat up and nodded to his explanation. “Yes, of course. I’m glad you told me about Rafael’s wife. How sad. How did she die?” she asked quietly, sincerity warming her voice. He eyed her and took a deep breath before continuing, obviously still affected himself by the loss of his friend’s wife. “Car accident. She was coming home from the doctor. She’d just learned she was carrying their first child. He’s been lost ever since. I had hoped in time he would meet someone else, but he refuses to start his life again. At least in that area anyway,” he murmured, a worried look covering his face. “Those things take time. I’m sure when he meets the right woman it will happen without him even 158
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knowing it. Until then, I think he has the right to grieve his wife as long as he wants,” she said delicately. He looked down at her and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess we all want him to be happy again and move on with his life.” He continued to gaze at her with a brooding look in his dark eyes. “You said you were working on getting over what happened between you and your fiancé. That’s gotta be hard.” She shrugged, trying to act casual concerning the subject of her ex. “At first it was. Not so much anymore. Now I can sit back and reflect on the lessons I learned from Todd, such as not getting involved with men who don’t want what you want out of life. And I learned that no matter what, a woman can’t change a man. Men are men. At least you’re up front from the start so the women you date know where they stand. Anyhow, I thought Todd was going to make a great husband. Actually, he did turn out to be a husband in the end—just not to me.” “He really married someone else while engaged to you?” She heard the note of passionate concern in his voice, saw the warm sincerity in his eyes, and found herself not really caring about anyone else…least of all an old fiancé. **** “Emily didn’t tell you the whole story?” “No,” he responded, gazing intently into her violet-colored eyes, lost in her beauty. It was like that every time he was around her—he became hopelessly lost and unsure of what he was doing. He’d spent a lifetime knowing exactly who and what he was at all times, trained to stay in control no matter what the situation. But for some reason, this was different…this unexplained thing that was happening between them. 159
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“I found out one night after work when I checked my answering machine. He left a brief and to-the-point message telling me he’d married a Swedish model while in Paris on a business trip. He never bothered to break if off with me before he married her.” A reverberation of sadness echoed in her words. “That’s all in the past. I rarely think about it anymore. Do you have any ginger ale? I’m dying of thirst.” Roman heard the hurt still in her voice and felt as if he could strangle this Todd person for causing her so much pain. He watched her elegantly rise from the sofa and cross the room. How did a man throw away a woman like her? She was unlike any woman he’d ever met before. Kind, generous, and unbelievably loving, she would make the perfect wife and mother. She was also beautiful, smart, sexy, and intriguing. All wrapped in an exquisite package and tied with sassiness and a smart mouth. Even the intoxicating scent of her skin did it for him. Unfortunately, falling for her wasn’t in the cards. Wasn’t that the plan? Contract, wedding, part ways with no questions asked? What? Can’t handle what you wished for? Asshole. Painfully conflicted for the first time in his life, he wavered back and forth about his feelings like some dopey high school kid with a first crush. Unresolved, he sat and watched her as she rummaged about in his kitchen, looking so right in his home. Being around her was like being in a room with a shimmering nighttime star: bright and beautiful from a distance, but very deadly to any man who got too close…and absolutely lethal to his heart.
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Chapter Thirteen Outside the loft, snow continued to fall upon New York City and up the East Coast at two to three inches per hour; the torrent of flakes bustled about in the howling winds. April looked across to where Roman sat working on his computer. For the past two hours they’d been on opposite ends of the room, with her reading and him catching up on work. She guessed it had to be the most boring honeymoon on record. Restless, she got up from the sofa and wandered over to his bookshelves. A cozy fire crackled in the modern-looking hearth while she inspected his extensive music selection. She had expected the endless array of rock bands present, but the assortment of jazz, classical, and Latin music surprised her. She perused his MP3 player but ended up selecting a CD. She placed it in the player, and a mix of Latin rock carried across the room. He glanced up to her as the sexy-romantic sounds of Alejandro Sanz’s sensually gruff voice, smooth guitar, and band filled the room. “Sorry. I hope you don’t mind,” she murmured guiltily. Bestowing a warm smile, he stood and crossed the room toward her. “Don’t apologize. I welcome a break.” He reached out and gently pulled her toward him. “Oh, no way,” she protested, her eyes wide as she gazed up at him. His arm came around her middle, and he started to move her to the rhythmic Latin beat. “You need dance lessons,” he announced with a too sexy grin, a 161
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warm, teasing look in his liquid brown eyes. “Last night as we danced at the wedding, well, it was downright pitiful. Very sad.” “I’m hopeless when it comes to dancing,” she groaned, her face flushing red with embarrassment. “You’re not hopeless. You just need the right teacher,” he boasted confidently. April groaned at his constant self-assuredness. “Oh, and I’m sure you’re the perfect dance teacher. Is there anything you don’t do well?” “No.” She groaned again. “Why did I even ask?” “A few quick dance lessons will at least get you started. Now move in closer to me,” he instructed, pulling her reluctant body into his. She moved tentatively into him, feeling his body heat instantly and how hard his muscles felt against her, along with the purely male scent of his skin. They were touching chest and thighs and everything in between. “Is it necessary to be this close to one another?” He grinned, impervious to her icy attitude. “It is if you want to dance to Latin music.” “Oh, very well,” she huffed, realizing she was beat. “Now what?” “Now step back with your right foot and I step forward toward you. Yes, like that,” he commanded, his strong, well-muscled leg moving suggestively between hers as they started to move to the passionate music. “Now move toward me, move your hips, feel the music, and follow what I’m doing.” “Don’t spin me around too fast,” she warned. He hid a smile. “I remember you told me that last night,” he reassured her. “Now pull your leg up against mine and I’ll lean you back a little.” In minutes they were dancing together, with her only occasionally missing a step. He moved sensually to the music, his Hispanic heritage making it second 162
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nature to dance in such a provocative way. For her it was a lesson in letting her inhibitions down and learning to relax and trust. Life was insanely unpredictable, she thought. Here she was on New Year’s Day, dancing to sexy Latin music with her pretend macho husband, while a blizzard raged outside. The picture she’d painted in her mind made her giggle effortlessly. “Care to let me in on the joke?” he politely inquired, grinding his hips against her pelvis before he turned her. She worked to hide her Midwestern modesty and stifled another fit of giggles. “Oh, ah…it’s nothing. I think everything is finally catching up with me. Can you believe we’re really married? Isn’t that more than a little strange?” she admitted, smiling up to him. He turned on his electric grin. “Yes, very unusual—even for me,” he agreed, tilting her back over his arm before pulling her up and into his chest. “What’s really strange is that I’m actually having fun.” She was shocked to hear him admit such a thing. She smiled, happy for the first time in a long time. “Really? Now that you mention it, I guess I’m having fun too. Or at least as much fun as one can have married to the wrong person.” A flicker of something primitive and dark crossed his face before he smiled uneasily. “Yeah…the wrong person.” His reply was sober and quiet. She meant her comment in jest, but for some reason it seemed to go flat. She pulled away from him as the song ended. “Thank you for the dance lesson. But I don’t think I’ll really need any more. I doubt I’ll be using any Salsa dance steps in the future. I guess I’ll finish my reading…or do you want to watch a DVD? I noticed you have a lot of movies 163
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to choose from,” she babbled on, wishing with all her heart that she hadn’t made that stupid comment. “A movie sounds good,” he said softly. “Great,” she affirmed, wishing she could take back her thoughtless words. “But first I should take Mrs. Holland’s dog outside again. Select whatever looks good to you, although my favorite is action movies.” He moved toward the entry hall as he spoke, throwing on his heavy sheepskin jacket before closing the door behind him. “Sure,” April murmured to herself, self-loathing filling her. She found his wide-screen television located in an alcove off the main living area. This area of his loft comfortably furnished with overstuffed modern pieces perfect for watching movies, all in earthy, rusty brown corduroy that complimented the rest of his home. She selected an action movie with a thread of a love story intertwined and was inserting the disk into the DVD player when he came back in the apartment. Settling herself on the couch, she heard him opening and closing cabinet drawers in the kitchen. In minutes he joined her on the other end of the couch after first putting a large bowl of chips, a platter of sandwiches, and two bottles of beer on the coffee table in front of them. “Don’t tell me you’re hungry already after the late brunch we had?” she asked, stunned at his huge appetite as he grabbed a sandwich and began to devour it. “Slightly,” he mumbled between bits, eyeing her as he took a swig of his beer. “Help yourself.” She looked at the inviting sub sandwiches. “Thanks, but maybe later. I hope you like the movie I picked out.” “Is it a girl movie? Do I even own any girl 164
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movies?” She laughed at his male comments. “I had to look hard, but I did find an action movie that had a little bit of romance theme to it,” she teased. He only grunted a reply, which prompted a quick smile from her. For the next two hours they sat on opposite ends of the comfy sofa, with April relaxing and enjoying the movie. Not one for large sub sandwiches, she eventually found herself loving the one he’d made for her. She even liked the beer, which wasn’t something she drank on a daily basis. Time and again she found herself stealing glances over to where he sat, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his powerful body relaxed and at ease, a position she doubted he often assumed. He was a high-energy person who thrived on challenges and speed. For him, this had to be a very tame and confining day. In turn, this thought made her recall his phone conversation with his friend Rafael from earlier. Hawaii. If it weren’t for her, he would have been making plans right now to jet to the warmth of those beautiful islands for a week of surfing. He was missing out on important bonding time with the buddies he rarely saw. Another thought also occurred to her. She looked over to him and quirked a brow. Women. She guessed a man like him probably had no trouble hooking up with some stunning bikini-clad female while on vacation. The painful image of him on a moonlit beach with some tall, raven-haired, beauty flashed in her mind while jealousy seeped through her heart and soul. Remember the contract. They’d signed a marriage contract stipulating everything was in name only. That was the agreement and understanding between them: each person free to do 165
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as they pleased during the course of their short-term marriage. When the movie ended, she stood and collected the now-empty bowl and platter while he followed her into the kitchen with the beer bottles, telling her how the film would have ended if he were the one making the movie. She was quiet as they loaded the dishwasher, pondering what she knew she must tell him, even if she was finding herself—for whatever reason—not wanting to say it. “I think you should still go to Hawaii,” she blurted out, witnessing his stunned reaction. He didn’t say anything for a minute but simply leaned back onto the island, arms crossed over his chest, and looked down at her with narrowed eyes. “This is interesting. How did you come to that conclusion, Mrs. Vasquez?” “Oh, will you stop,” she countered. “I’m not really your wife and you know it. That’s exactly why you should still go surfing with your friends. The contract we signed is just that—a contract. Not a marriage. There’s no reason keeping you here, besides the snow, that is.” “You’re forgetting one thing.” She sighed. “And what am I forgetting?” “That we’re supposed to be in love and on our honeymoon—together,” he stated, leaning forward and reaching around her to push the button that set the dishwasher in motion. April backed up against the appliance as far as she could go, but still his face was only a fraction of an inch away. “Anyone at that wedding could see we’re not in love with one another.” “Really?” His voice was husky and lined with challenge, as he placed a hand on either side of her, trapping her against the counter. “So my kisses weren’t very convincing?” 166
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“You're…getting off the subject,” she huffed, looking directly up into his eyes. “There’s no reason not to go. Tomorrow is Monday, and I’m planning on going back to work and my own apartment. I doubt we’ll have much more contact with one another until we sign the divorce papers. Are you going to tell me you’re going to live like a monk until then?” “A monk?” he growled, pulling away from her to stand tall and straight, his hands on his lean hips. “What exactly do you think we do when we go surfing together? Cruise the beach for chicks?” By the volcanic tone in his voice, she guessed he was not pleased. “What you do on vacation is your business, Mr. Vasquez. I’m only suggesting that you shouldn’t change your plans because of our business arrangement.” With each word, his expression darkened. “Will you stop calling our marriage a business arrangement and stop calling me Mr. Vasquez.” “Isn’t that what our marriage is? Isn’t that what you had intended with Justine? An arrangement where you both would be free to do whatever you planned with no questions asked. Just done discreetly? Why should it be any different with me?” He looked decisively uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah, Justine and I agreed to that, but this is totally different. The situation is different. I told you that the other night.” “How?” she challenged, placing her hands on her hips. “Trust me, this is different. You’re different from her. There are other things to be considered and other people,” he declared, his voice strained and intense. “Why? Please explain.” She had him where she wanted him. And he didn’t look happy in the least. “Ah…hell…because my marriage to Justine was 167
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nothing more than paperwork. Our marriage, on the other hand, involved my family, friends, a band, and a million candles. With Justine…I don’t know…she was supposed to go to Italy for the duration of our arrangement until the divorce. No one was supposed to know besides Henry, and Alex, my assistant. You happen to work and live here in New York. Besides, the tabloids would have a field day if the information ever got out that we had spent the first few days of married life apart. I don’t need any bad publicity for my company right now, and I’d have a hard time explaining it to Rafael. He definitely would want to know why I’m spending my honeymoon with him and the guys instead of with you,” he stated, a dark, brooding expression covering the hard planes of his handsome face. April tilted her head and pursed her lips at him, listening to his explanation. “Do you honestly believe people are so fascinated with your life they would care what you’re doing right now?” “I wouldn’t doubt there are already photos of our wedding in the papers. That’s something I’m sorry you’re being dragged into. But it’s unavoidable. It’s part of my life and something you’ll have to deal with during our marriage.” “This contract deal between us is starting to feel like a runaway train. Actually, more like a train wreck,” she moaned, feeling overwhelmed by everything that came along with Roman Vasquez. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking sincerely remorseful for her discomfort. “I wish now I hadn’t got you involved but you are, and in the long run a lot of good will come from it.” She saw his face soften with sincerity. Her own misgivings dissolved with that one look. “I know— trust you. Right?” He walked over and grabbed her coat from the back of the chair where she’d tossed it earlier in the 168
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morning and handed it to her along with her boots. He eyed her heeled fashion footwear with trepidation. “Guess those will have to do. I need to show you something. C’mon, let’s go for a walk.” He grabbed his own jacket and headed to the door, not waiting for an answer. Walk? In a snowstorm? Sure, it’s romantic…but so is staying in next to the fire with a glass of champagne. Surprised at his impromptu request, she weighed her options: stay inside where it was nice and cozy or brave the blizzard. Rolling her eyes, she knew with Roman Vasquez, there were no options. She pulled on her coat and boots with fabricated enthusiasm and caught up with him as he held the door for her, an alluring sexy-hot grin on his face. Being the typical female, she’d follow him for that alone. **** He shrugged into his heavy-duty sheepskin coat, along with his Sorel’s, and watched as she eyed him cautiously before breezing past him and out the door. He caught up with her in three long strides, and together they rode the elevator in a stalemated silence. Outside she abstained from female vanity and accepted his black knit hat, pulling it over her glossy golden tresses. He grinned secretly, thinking she looked damn cute. She also looked gorgeous and stunning, and in his book, she was definitely a hat person. The wind and storm had subsided, with only occasional gusts of flittering snowflakes traveling about, highlighted by the street lamps as they walked in tandem. She followed in his footsteps while he blazed a trail through the knee-deep snow covering the city’s sidewalks. At the first intersection, he paused and glanced back to make 169
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sure she was still keeping up with him. “Doing okay?” “Is there a point to this, or did you just feel the need to torture me with physical exercise at nine o’clock at night during a blizzard on your birthday?” Laughing, he grabbed her hand and pulled her over the snow bank and into the street. “Last night it was palm trees, ocean breezes, moonlight— thought I’d go for something different tonight. Don’t wanna bore you.” She adjusted the hat on her head to keep it from covering her eyes and shot him a dirty look. “Yeah, like that would ever happen,” she countered, keeping up with him as they trekked across a deserted intersection of SoHo. “Actually, after the last few days—boring sounds kind of good right now.” He leaned down and couldn’t help but bestow a quick kiss on her cold lips before traipsing down yet another block, keeping her gloved hand firmly in his. He loved how it fit so perfectly within his grip. “We’re almost there,” he threw over his shoulder, knowing their destination would explain everything, more than words ever could. Rounding the next snow-laden block, they hiked up and over another plowed snow bank and then stopped in their tracks as he halted their progress. Up ahead, a brick building was awash with not only lights but activity. The jarring sensory overload was stunning to the senses after the seemingly abandoned city blocks they’d walked through. “St. Vincent’s…” she whispered in a hushed tone, her icy breath dissipating into the frigid night air still sprinkled with errant snowflakes. “C’mon.” He led them down the block and around yet another corner, where an ambulance followed by a police car crossed in front of them. He stopped to gesture upward with a gloved hand. “Up there. That’s the children’s ward.” 170
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“Roman…” was all she said, obviously too overcome to say much more. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back into his chest, shielding her from the wind as they took in the humble sight of construction-paper Christmas trees, ornaments, and big red Santas, along with hand-cut glittery stars pasted to the windows of the third floor children’s unit. “Uh, yeah…so the guys and I got pretty attached to the kids this past year. I would have never guessed I could. I’ve never been much of a person for having little ones around, but a guy couldn’t help but cave with those kids melting your heart every day. Anyhow, the building here behind us was a project my company designed and completed this past year. Each day the kids would hang out by the windows up there waving to us from across the way, writing messages or pictures on sheets of construction paper, asking questions, or just saying hi some days. They really got a kick out of keeping us entertained for months on end. And the guys were equally amused. So a few of the men and I went over one day and brought the kids construction hats, a bunch of games and some DVDs, stuff like that.” He paused, pushing back the lump of emotion starting to form in his throat. “Those kids are tough as nails and have guts…you know? And they keep smiling through it all.” He paused again, fighting down the rush of building sentiment threatening to overtake him. “Anyhow, that’s when I noticed how outdated the children’s unit was here at St. Vincent’s. At the same time, I realized that asinine clause in my grandfather’s will was coming due. I couldn’t think of anything more worthy than donating the money to help the children over there on the third floor. Make their stay in the hospital a little more fun, or at least a little more pleasant. So I 171
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decided to bite the bullet and get hitched and secure the money for the hospital…and then you walked into my apartment.” She turned in his arms and looked into his eyes, her own brimming with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Roman.” “For what?” “For being such a wimpy baby about this whole thing...for causing you so much trouble…for ruining your plans.” He pulled her into his embrace and grinned, loving the feel of her fitted securely against him. “Baby, you may have ruined my plans…but you did it in a good way.” She laughed weepily against his jacket, her face buried from his view. “That’s good—right?” “Perfect in my book.” She nodded against his chest. “I get it now. Why you did what you did. Why this is so important.” “But it’s not about me. It’s about those kids.” “You’re right. It’s easy to get lost in all the small details of our own lives and forget about the big picture some times. Being here tonight, with you, I can see how this is the really big picture.” “My thoughts exactly, sweetheart.” She pulled back and looked up to him. “Thank you for bringing me here, Roman.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and tucked her up against him. Together they retraced their path back through the glittering snowfall to his apartment, no words necessary, each knowing what the other was feeling in the moment, until they got to the loft’s entry hall. “I still think you should go to Hawaii.” He kicked off his boots, pulled off his jacket, and groaned at her stubborn statement, running a quick hand through his hair in frustration. “We’re back to that again?” He walked into the kitchen intent on 172
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grabbing another beer. She shed her coat and boots and followed him, apparently resistant to his protests. “Roman, truly, there’s nothing holding you here, not really.” He twisted the top off his beer and tossed it onto the counter, taking a long drink before answering. “I don’t wanna talk about this.” “I don’t get it.” “Maybe I wanna stay,” he challenged angrily, plunking his beer down and moving to corner her once again against the counter. “Roman…don’t,” she admonished. The silky tone of her soft voice vibrated through him, making him weak in the knees as he continued to surround her. “Don’t what?” he groaned harshly, leaning down to brush his lips against the softness of her delicate jawbone. She pushed against his chest and forced him back a few inches. “Don’t look at me like that,” she breathed, sounding reluctant even though he knew she was willing in all the right ways. “I can’t help it,” he breathed, his voice deep and gruff. “I want us to be together…I have for a long time. I think you want the same thing but are too damn stubborn to admit it.” He took a deep, unsteady breath and framed her face with his hands, tilting her chin up with the pads of his thumbs until she was looking directly into his eyes. “It’s your call.” The last thing he expected was a gush of hot tears from her eyes as she let out a huge sob from the recesses of her chest. Shocked at her sudden outburst, he dropped his hold on her and took a cautious step back, and for the first time in his life felt completely helpless. “April…ah…baby, why are you crying?” She brushed her damp cheeks with the back of her hands and shook her head. “I…I don’t…don’t know—” 173
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Utter confusion filled him while he watched tears flow down her satiny flushed cheeks; she looked absolutely lost and forlorn. He’d never had a woman burst into tears at the prospect of having sex with him. Totally baffled, he considered his next move. “Uh…do you want to talk about it?” No!” she blurted out while he continued to gaze down at her, his jaw flexing with tension. She brushed past him and went to the windows. He followed and moved up behind her. “April…I’m sorry.” He damned himself to hell for hurting her and hated the way she flinched at his apology. The minute he spoke the words, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. He was confused as all hell, and no matter what he said, it wasn’t going to make a damn difference at this point. F’in! “No…no, you’re not sorry,” she hiccupped. “You’re right. I’m not sorry. I wanna have sex with you. I want us to be together. I’m only sorry if that makes you—uncomfortable,” he put it roughly, not sure what to say anymore. Her misery cut through him. Without a doubt, her happiness meant something to him. She turned to face him and kept her gaze glued on his chest as if embarrassed. “You don’t make me feel uncomfortable,” she whispered finally. He grinned uneasily with relief. “That’s good, right?” Humor. It works every time. Lucky for him, she laughed with hiccupy reluctance and tentatively placed her hands on his stomach while he took the opportunity to cautiously inch her closer to him. “I’m sorry for the meltdown,” she explained. “I’ve been all over the place with my emotions this weekend…you and me…I don’t know.” “I know,” he soothed, his hands roaming over her back. “This weekend has been a lot to take in. I also know it could be good between us, if you let it. I’m willing to give it a try.” 174
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“You have to know this isn’t a good idea. Actually, it’s a really bad idea.” He leaned down to nuzzle her silky neck with his nose, his warm breath caressing her skin. “Total buzz kill.” She laughed through a few remaining tears and finally relaxed against his hard length, molding her body intimately with his. A soft moan escaped her lips as he trailed a line of hot, wet kisses down her neck to her delicate collarbone. “Buzz kill?” she questioned dreamily, moving her head to one side to grant him full access. “More like reality check.” He ran his hands up under her sweater, marveling at the fragile line of her ribcage and how smooth and warm her skin was. He knew just where to touch her so she would fall to the temptations he offered. He’d leave her unable to think about anything but how good it was to have his hands all over her. It was dirty pool, but a guy had to do what a guy had to do. Even if it meant using underhanded methods to get what he wanted. “Reality is tomorrow.” “I guess….maybe.” She wavered on her decision. He nipped at her earlobe and ran his hands over her softly rounded hips. “Baby, you know you want to,” he tempted with a low growl. “So what are we waiting for?” “Mmm…you’re right. Reality can wait until tomorrow.” She finally acquiesced, snuggling in closer to him to purr a sexy, throaty sigh; easily his undoing. “Really?” He’d been expecting more resistance, so her answer caught him unaware. Thrown off center, he quickly refocused and covered by hauling her up against him, before she could rethink the situation or back out. Barely restrained, he captured her soft sexy mouth with his, 175
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giving her his best I-want-you-like-crazy kind of kiss. He was determined to show her exactly how much he really wanted her. Getting into it, she followed his lead and took a little leap upward to wrap her legs around his torso, her arms looped securely around his neck while she kissed him back with everything she had. Each naughty swipe of her tongue, each throaty moan turned him on even more. Not wasting anytime, he carried her down the hallway to his bedroom, making out with her the whole way. His first instinct had been do it right there in the living room, but finesse won out. He’d waited six long months, and he was going to do it right. Hastily he reached for the light switch. The bedside lamps bathed the room in a soft glow, while she took the opportunity to trail a scintillating, teasing path of love nips up his neck. He finally had her all over him, and the last thing he wanted was to release her, but he knew if getting naked was going to happen he had to put her down. The second her bare feet hit the carpeted floor, he whipped off his pullover in one swift fluid movement as she did the same with her sweater, only with a naughty smile added in. No doubt to make him sweat a little more. Before he had the chance, she was greedily working on the fly of his jeans while he took the opportunity to hurriedly unhook her lacey black bra. His hands brushed the velvety skin of her back as he skimmed the piece of delicate lingerie from her. The hot skin-to-skin contact rocked a wave of shivers through him, which in turn ignited a reel of illicit images that flashed through his mind at top speed. She smiled secretly to him before licking a sizzling path up his chest, easing his hard-on out of 176
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his jeans and briefs the whole time. He groaned deep from his gut and knew life couldn’t get any better. Oh, hell yeah…she knows exactly what I want for my birthday.
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Chapter Fourteen Hard rock music poured out from hidden speakers as numerous showerheads released a deluge of steaming water over the naked pair. The drumming rhythm of the water muffled the passionate beat of the music, but not the throaty moans or purring sighs of satisfaction. April ran her hands over Roman’s naked chest and almost died from the way he felt under her touch, along with the way he was currently skimming his own hands over her naked derriere while taking teasing nips at her neck. Languidly, she rolled her head to the side and moaned, releasing a smile of satisfaction before he backed her up against the shower wall. Once there, he trailed his firm lips over her fragile collarbone and maneuvered his hands to her sensitive full breasts, caressing them as only he knew how. Instantly the peaks of her nipples hardened into two rosy nubs, revealing that it didn’t take much to turn her on. She ran her hands through his glossy hair, marveling at the inky blackness of it and its silky texture between her fingers. Every square hunky inch of him made her wilt with desire. The guy was amazing to look at, and up-close and personal as she was now, he was downright awesome. He was definitely every woman’s one-night fantasy guy. The fact he knew just how to touch her, what to whisper into her ear, and how to make her come time and again, also factored into her giving him that ultimate title. Without warning he hoisted her up against him. 178
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She wrapped her legs around his midsection, holding her arms tight around his brawny neck, and released a squeal of surprise. “Roman! You’re going to drop me!” He shook his head against her allegation and smiled devilishly, revealing his gleaming white teeth. “Trust me?” Her returning smile faded with his question, the tone between them becoming serious. She let her gaze trail over his rugged wet features, taking in his deep-set mysterious eyes, the strong broad nose, his hard-lined mouth with the etched lines on either side, and the bold chin that held a few mysterious scars…and knew without a doubt she would trust him until the end of time. This big, powerful man who answered to know one, who lived life as if there were no tomorrow, had her heart and soul in his hands; she would do anything for him, believed him completely when he asked for her faith, would agree to whatever he wanted at this point. “Absolutely,” she answered recklessly, falling harder for him with each minute, with each tender touch, with each sweet word whispered into her ear. He captured her mouth with his in a sexyheartfelt kiss beyond any he’d given her before. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tangling with hers, sensual and wild, telling her he was feeling the same way in this very moment as she. At the same time, he lowered her oh-so-slowly onto him and filled her completely, prompting her to release a wanton moan against his mouth. Obviously satisfied with her reaction, he grinned against her lips and recaptured her mouth in a heady, scorching kiss, intensifying the moment for the both of them. He pulled back and looked concerned. “Baby, are you okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?” His tender expression made her heart melt all the more for him. “Is this position okay?” 179
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She raised herself up by pushing on his broad shoulders and slid back down on the hard length of him. He groaned into her ear with pure gratification, his unshaven cheek grazing her jaw and neck in a painful yet blissful way. “Very okay,” she whispered back, her voice thick with heated passion. For the past few hours he’d shown her a number of positions, all of them fun, naughty, and inventive. With each one, he took the time to make sure it was good for her and that she was right along with him, getting all the full, hot, sweaty enjoyment out of their lovemaking as much as he was. His concern displayed his tender, thoughtful side—even when he was buck-naked with a throbbing hard-on. He growled into her ear and moved her ever-sodeliciously up and then back down on him, creating a wickedly good, sensual pace, heightened by the way he made out with her at the same time. All around her was Roman: his impossibly strong arms wrapped securely around her, holding her as if she weighed nothing at all; his massive shoulders under her hands, flexing with the movements of their lovemaking; his muscled hairy chest tight against her soft breasts as a downpour of steaming water worked its way between them, making their slick bodies slide together as one. She couldn’t get enough of his heavy breath on her neck, the rough feel of his facial scruff against her skin, the caress of his skillful hands on her hot, wet body. She was running her tongue around the rim of his ear when he suddenly stilled, pulling back from her. “Baby, we should stop.” He groaned deep from his chest as she playfully nipped at his neck before sucking and licking the exact place she’d teased with her teeth. “Ah…baby, I don’t have a condom on…damn, that feels good.” Lost in what she was doing to him, he was easily distracted. She smiled naughtily against his neck, glad she 180
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could render him just as helpless as he could her. “I don’t care…don’t stop…just don’t stop,” she begged, loving the way he crumbled without a fight and quickly resumed their lovemaking. He pulled back from her again with a serious expression on his face. She ignored him and recommenced her exploration of his strong jaw line with her tongue and mouth while she played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “But what—hell, you make me nuts when you do that, baby—but what if I get you pregnant?” She giggled seductively and feathered a teasing kiss on his lips. “Guess you’ll have to marry me. Oh, wait. We’re already married.” “Good point. Screw the condom,” he growled and quickly moved them along, escalating the pace of their movements. His breath was heavy against her neck, his chest rapidly rising and falling against her as she felt the magnificent building rush of her own climax. When she reached the peak, a brilliant pulsing vibration overtook her, sending threads of electric pleasure through her already strumming mind and body. She felt his powerful body tense, felt him still before coming inside of her; her moans and purrs had pushed him over his limit so they almost finished together, with him coming right after her in a glorious rush. His breathing was harsh against her neck, his body molded as one with hers, his strong arms holding her in place. “So who was the dumbass who suggested sex in the shower instead of the bed?” he complained between long, heavy breaths, still winded from their explosive lovemaking. Deliciously spent herself, she smiled and knew it had to be more than difficult for him to keep their current position after what had just taken place. “Umm…that would be you,” she teased, unhooking 181
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her silky legs and sliding down the length of his deliciously muscled body as he loosened his hold on her. Instead of releasing her, he pulled her back against him for another long kiss, showing her without words that he wasn’t through with her yet. Melting into him, she returned his suggestive Xrated tongue action with some of her own, until he backed her out of the shower stall and quickly lifted her in his arms. “Bed, couch, dining table, kitchen island—you pick,” he offered generously, letting her decide where their next lovemaking session was going to take place, smiling naughtily as water droplets sprinkled off his hair and ran invitingly down his rugged face. In the process of raining a few kisses over his square-cut chin, she paused to lick a few of the water drops up with her tongue before answering. “Hmm, maybe the—” **** Snowflakes flittered lazily by the window; the winter storm long subsided as an amber glow from the fireplace washed the living room with romance. Roman stretched out on his luxurious couch, clad in nothing but a pair of well-washed gray sweats, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the view: long silky legs, round ass, narrowed waist with a full rack, a mane of long, gorgeous honey-blonde hair swinging along her back, and a killer smile that never failed to render him speechless. He pinned his gaze on her, watching while she lithely pranced about his galley kitchen in nothing but a confiscated white buttondown dress shirt of his that looked way too tempting on her. It barely covered her round ass, and he couldn’t complain about how she’d left the top five buttons undone—no doubt to torture him. She moved along the counter, peering into cabinets and ducking under the counter, searching for something. 182
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He smiled with pure male satisfaction. For some crazy reason, he liked her in his clothes, in his apartment, in his life. Just tell her you love her and get it over with. It’s been six months…man up already. Six months of loving her. He’d fallen in love with her at first sight, and now six months later, he was finally owning up to the fact he was still hopelessly in love. At the wedding, he’d realized it but had somehow managed to push it away and pretend it was still all about the business deal. But now—all bets were off. His gaze fixed on her, and he watched her gracefully glide across the room to him. He was in awe how she managed to do a sexy little twirl, next tossing her mass of golden hair over one shoulder, before she shimmied her booty in his face in a teasing lap dance move—all while balancing a tray of munchies in one hand. “I’m open to fives, tens, or twenties,” she suggested, swaying her sweetly curved hips in a rocking motion that made beads of sweat form on the back of his neck. She placed the tray down on the coffee table and continued her tortuous lap dance, skimming her hands up her body and under her hair, lifting the tresses teasingly before letting them fall back down in a glorious cascade. Anya Marina’s “Move You” was playing on his docking system, which she’d taken over with her own MP3. The chick music held a slight rocker-Latin beat that he could appreciate. He also couldn’t complain that the catchy song provided the perfect background for her dirty tease-me lap dance. She easily turned him on with each bump and grind, each sexy twist and toss of her glossy tresses. “I thought you said you couldn’t dance?” he growled, watching her as she giggled and lowered herself onto him, brushing her round ass on his 183
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crotch before moving out of his reach in one quick move. She laughed as she continued dancing suggestively in front of him. “See what a good teacher you are?” she answered sassily. She arched her back and skimmed her hands over her breasts, licking her pouty pink lips. The narrowed sultry look she sent from her violet eyes set him on fire. “Teacher?” he scoffed, grinning at her moxie. “More like pricey French champagne works magic on your dancing ability.” She laughed again and stopped dancing to pour herself another glass of the sparkling drink—and then promptly fell onto him, spilling some onto his bare chest. He held his breath while she only giggled and leaned down to lick the foaming liquid from his chest with her pink tongue. Man, life can’t get any better. She took another long drink and placed her glass on the coffee table. “I’m starving. I found some questionable cheese spread, besides five kinds of olives—man, you must love olives—oh, and some of those little pizza snacks in your freezer. Really, I would have never guessed you ate those things…” She paused to lean over the coffee table and spread something on a cracker. “...but thankfully I found this salmon spread and these flatbread crackers; my favorite.” She indulged in a bite and then turned to fed him the rest. He reached up and met her halfway, catching her off-guard when he took her fingers into his mouth. He sucked on them suggestively until she laughed and pushed him back down on the couch. He chewed, realizing he was enjoying this new fun, breezy, slightly drunk version of her. “Do you always give guys lap dances after a few drinks?” She paused from taking a bite of her second cracker and thought for a second. “Mmm…only to 184
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the guys I marry,” she tossed back, giving him a saucy wink that practically made his heart stall. He sat up, grabbed his beer, and took a long drink. He loved the way she nestled herself between his legs, munching away on what she’d pilfered from his kitchen. Unable to help himself, he snaked an arm around her middle, nuzzling her silky neck with his nose, placing a few random kisses as she rolled her head to the side. All the while, she sighed and made those sweet, scintillating noises that drove him crazy. To his astonishment, he was suddenly, undeniably, overcome with a rush of true emotion. “Marry me,” he whispered in her ear with a strangely thick, heartfelt tone, barely recognizing his own voice. He rubbed his cheek against hers, while his heart pounded uncontrollably. Time stood still while he waited, hoped, prayed she would say yes—for real this time. She turned in his arms and gave him one of her trademark sexy-mysterious smiles that he’d been addicted to from day one. Then leaned into him and brushed his mouth with hers, giving him a taste of her champagne. She pulled back and waved her left hand in front of his face. “Remember twenty-four hours ago: you, me, the moon, twinkle lights, five crates of candles, two hundred thirty-four guests, ice sculptures?” She paused and grabbed her champagne glass to take another long drink, then stopped short as she remembered something else. “Oh my gosh! Tomorrow is Monday. I have to go to work in the morning.” She groaned and finished her drink, plunked the glass down on the coffee table with a thud, and giggled slightly before she turned and looped her arms around his neck, kissing him playfully on the mouth. “Guess I’ll be doing the ‘Walk of Shame’ into the office tomorrow. Actually, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with doing the 185
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walk after a one-night hookup, as long as a girl looks good.” She laughed again and trailed a spicy line of kisses down his neck, then sighed as she placed her head on his chest. “I’m so sleepy….” With his heart now on his sleeve, he pulled her protectively into his embrace. Leaning back on the sofa pillows, he took her along with him, tenderly holding her against him as she drifted off to sleep on his chest. He took a hand and caressed her wild halfdried hair, smoothing it down, marveling in her natural beauty: satin skin that made him ache when he touched it, long dark lashes now feathered upon flushed creamy cheeks, her pink kiss-me lips he couldn’t get enough of, along with that gorgeous array of hair that sparkled with natural highlights money couldn’t buy, and a body that drove him crazy. But it was something more that drew him to her…love. Her words echoed painfully in his mind. …one-night hookup… He had his answer.
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Chapter Fifteen April trudged into work, hung up her heavy winter coat, kicked off her snow-laden boots, and slipped into her practical black pumps still waiting faithfully under her desk from last Thursday. She switched on her computer and listened to the numerous phone messages while her head pounded with a dull post-champagne ache. Thankfully, the headache was the only ill effect she was suffering this morning. Besides a major case of regret. After jotting down the messages, she carried them through to Henry’s desk, deciding some strong coffee was the next important part of getting back to work. She was filling the stainless steel pot with water when she heard the outer office door open and close. Poking her head around the corner she was surprised to see her boss brushing snowflakes from his dark well-groomed head. “Happy New Year,” she called out, making him jump a foot at the sound of her voice. “April? What the devil are you doing here today?” “It’s Monday morning, Henry. I’m making coffee. I’ll bring you a cup in a minute. Your messages are on your desk,” she answered, glad to have the normalcy of work to fall back on. As the coffeemaker started to gurgle, she took down two china cups and matching saucers, placing them on a tray. “I mean, shouldn’t you be…well, aren’t you—” Henry babbled, having followed her into the small galley kitchen off the main office. 187
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She laughed as she took out the cream and sugar. “Henry, for goodness’ sake, are you still hung over from New Year’s Eve?” “I thought you got married over the weekend?” he blurted, looking confused. She whirled around from adding napkins to the tray and glared at her boss. “Where did you hear that from? I mean…I was going to explain to you this morning.” Nonplused, Henry took the folded newspaper from beneath his arm and dramatically unfolded it, displaying the front page of the sixth section to her. Her mouth dropped open with shock at the color photo of herself and Roman as they left his mother’s home after the wedding. “Oh, my lord,” April muttered. The photo showcased them laughing and smiling to their guests as they were showered with birdseed; all in all, she didn’t look half bad in the grainy newspaper photo. At least she had the good sense to wear the smart black sundress, she thought, feeling slightly hysterical. She looked up at her boss to see a grin covering his face. “I can explain, Henry. Really, it’s not what it looks like.” “Well, all I can say is—it’s about time! I was wondering when you two would get around to finally, well, how can I say this politely? Noticing one another?” he stated, sounding very pleased with himself. “Henry!” April choked. She turned to grab the coffeepot and poured two coffees with shaky hands. “Come on, April. You two have been sidestepping and dancing around one another for months. If you would have taken Todd’s ugly ring off a month ago, I’m sure Roman would have made a move sooner.” April looked at her boss with a mix of horror and 188
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astonishment. “He would have?” “Definitely. I was so relieved when Todd married that Paris model. I just told Ellen the other day that Roman would have a chance now if you ever got that ring off your finger. The poor guy has been biding his time long enough. Talk about having the patience of a saint.” He gave a little chuckle at his own humor. “He’s a great guy, April. You picked the right man for you.” “I did?” she mumbled, still shocked at what her boss was telling her. She followed him into his office with the tray of coffee, weakly plunking it down on top of his desk as he hung his suit jacket on the back of his chair and took a seat. “Roman Vasquez is an outstanding businessman and philanthropist. Not to mention a great athlete and all-around good guy. I always know where I stand with him. Not like that snake, Todd. Good riddance to him. Oh, I’m sorry, April. Here I am talking about your ex when I’m sure you’d rather talk about Roman.” “I would?” she echoed, not sure if she was going to faint or throw up. “So dish, sweetheart. Tell me all the details. Like why you’re here and not on some exotic beach with your new husband. Ellen would have killed me if I hadn’t taken her on that honeymoon trip to St. Lucia.” Weakly she sat and took a sip of her coffee, trying not to choke as she swallowed hard. “Details, honey. Don’t leave anything out,” Henry urged. She cleared her throat. “Well, actually, Roman is in Hawaii. I’m at work. As you know, Henry, he had you draw up that pre-nup contract and I delivered it. Only I ended up signing it with Roman. Our marriage is a business agreement. That’s all. 189
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Business. A contract,” she stated nervously, watching as her boss leaned over his desk toward her with a confused look on his handsome, justshaved face. “The contract. Right. Still, there had to be more to what happened between you two when you went over to his apartment last Thursday evening. Fess up, April. How did you end up married to Roman instead of that dragon of a woman, Justine?” She blushed hotly, remembering exactly how things had occurred—the way Roman had kissed her so passionately while wearing only a towel. “That’s none of your business,” she answered smartly. He laughed, throwing back his head. “That tells me all I need to know.” “Oh, very funny, Henry. If you hadn’t sent me over there, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t be in this mess. Last week I was happy to be carefree and single and looking forward to meeting someone normal. Now I’m saddled with Roman Vasquez. The most confusing, infuriating male on the planet,” she huffed. “But he’s so perfect for you,” he teased, taking another sip of his coffee in an attempt to hide a grin from her. “Are you kidding? We don’t mesh at all. Is it any wonder he’s in Hawaii and I’m in New York three days after our wedding?” she spat out. “That’s called fireworks, sweetheart. I felt the same way with Ellen. In the end everything worked out fine. Give it a month. Marriage takes time,” he reassured her, sounding to April like some know-itall marriage prophet. “Are you crazy? Roman and I are married for one purpose and you know it, Henry. It’s a business deal involving a new children’s hospital wing. In order to receive his grandfather’s trust fund, he had to be married. You drew up that contract. You know 190
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exactly why I married him. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and have a soft heart when it comes to children. What was I supposed to do?” He shrugged and grinned. “Emily said that if we got you two together, alone somewhere, something might happen. And look—it happened,” he joked, chuckling at her predicament. “Emily? What does she have to do with this?” She immediately picked up on the tell-tale clue he’d dropped in her lap. Red-faced, Henry looked shamefully guilty. “Emily just…well, she just—” “You know Emily is Roman’s sister?” she guessed, putting all the pieces together. “So spill it, Henry. What does Emily have to do with Roman and me getting married?” “Is it any wonder I’m not a trail lawyer?” he mumbled, rolling his eyes while looking like a naughty schoolboy in the principal’s office. He ducked his head and gave her his best don’t-hate-me look. “After your breakup with Todd, Emily and I got to talking and—” “—and you two thought you would play matchmakers!” she finished hotly, not believing what she was hearing. “Oh, I knew she was up to something.” “We thought if we put you both together outside of work, something might happen. But then Roman came to me needing that pre-nup, so Emily and I had to take matters into our own hands—and fast. I stalled Roman as long as I could by taking my time preparing the contract for him, but he insisted he needed it finished and sent to him by Thursday night. So I had you take those papers over to his apartment as a last-minute attempt to get you together. I mean, it wasn’t exactly as Emily and I planned. We thought maybe getting you together at a restaurant for dinner would be a natural first step. 191
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Or possibly getting you down to Florida for the holiday weekend with Roman around would lead to something. But things had to be rushed a little with Roman wanting an instant bride. Actually, I thought our plan was brilliant,” he boasted and leaned back in his chair, now looking pleased with himself. “Especially when I opened the paper this morning and saw that paparazzi photo of you two after your wedding. I wish I’d been there. I could have given you away.” April gritted her teeth. “I think you’ve done enough already, Henry.” He laughed at her hot temper. “No thanks needed.” “I can’t believe it. Emily was in on this?” she wondered out loud, remembering how unshocked her friend had been to see her with Roman in Florida. Almost as if she had expected it. She also recalled Emily’s so-called innocent attempts to get her to come to Florida for the holiday weekend. Obviously Emily had been determined to get her brother to notice her one way or another. Had the world gone crazy? Didn’t they know? Couldn’t they see how wrong I am for him? And how absolutely wrong he is for me? A flash from last night of them intertwined in his shower bolted into her consciousness. She blushed heatedly. Okay, maybe we’re great together on some levels. “So why is Roman in Hawaii?” Henry asked, still smirking. “You never did say?” She sat up straight in her chair and stared back at her boss with fire in her eyes. “He’s cruising for chicks on the beach.” she announced, loving the way she wiped the grin off his face with her seething proclamation. “What the devil!?” She stood and collected the coffee cups and tray, 192
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then headed for the door. “Time to get to work, Henry!” After placing the coffee tray in the kitchenette, she sank wearily into her desk chair, unsure if this was really her life anymore. Emily? Henry? How dare they plan and manipulate her and Roman that way. What in the world had they been thinking all these months? What had they seen to make them think there was something more between her and Roman than one hot holiday night? She sat and fumed, so angry she doubted she could do much more the rest of the day than contemplate some untimely demise for the both of them. With determination she finally set to work, clearing away the morning schedule without once hearing from Henry as he hid out in his office. By lunch she was more than ready to take a break from answering phone calls and researching background information as was the norm. She usually ate lunch at her desk, but for some reason today she needed to get away from the office. To be honest, she really wanted to get away from the phone. Every time it rang she jumped a foot, half expecting to hear Roman’s deep slightly accented sexy voice on the other end of the line. She knocked on Henry’s door and poked her head inside, giving him her best hateful glare before announcing she was going out for lunch. With a guilty look, he smiled at her before requesting she bring him back something to eat. Groaning, she slammed his office door and grabbed her coat. Just like a man. Ruin a woman’s life and then expect lunch. Outside, the winter winds brushed against her skin as she hurried along, stopping first at a newsstand to pick up the local New York papers, before heading across the street to her favorite deli 193
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for a sandwich. After getting her usual order and another for Henry, she settled into a booth and opened the first paper. As predicted, there they both were. The Look of Love…Perfect for One Another…Surprise Holiday Romance. That was the copy written below their photos. Paper after paper all had the same photo of them leaving Lana’s beautiful Miami estate: her trying to look like the perfect fake bride and Roman looking tall, powerful, and definitely sexy. She devoured his image. She couldn’t help herself. What woman could? The man was nothing but gorgeous hot masculine flesh and blood and everything a female could want in a…in a what? A soul mate? A husband? A lover? What was Roman to her? She’d been asking herself that question since last night. What do I want him to be? Admitting defeat, she realized she already knew but had vehemently pushed away the answer. She could deny it until the end of time…but she was falling in love. I’m in love with Roman Vasquez? The realization she was in love with him hit her with blinding force. Her body shivered with fiery nervousness before turning icy cold. It was a shock to her already strained system. Ugh. How could I have let this happen? And when did it happen? On his jet when he held her hand? When he kissed her on the beach at midnight? When he was so endearing over the weekend with his old-fashioned manners? When they made love for the first time and he admitted afterward that he never wanted them to leave his bed, while he covered her face in tender kisses? She stifled a moan of despair and felt as if she wanted to cry, laugh, and scream all at the same time. Where does he get off making me fall for him? 194
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With shaking hands she folded the newspapers before heading back to her office. The afternoon dragged on with the usual work and phone interruptions while she watched the clock, wanting nothing more than to go home and curl up on her sofa with a pillow over her head for the rest of the evening. Finally she found herself climbing the steps of her brownstone, collecting her mail, and opening her apartment door as she normally did. Only this time she was coming home as Mrs. Roman Vasquez. She dumped her purse on a side table and looked at her still-packed overnight bag and garment bag sitting in her tiny foyer. The note he’d written her with its heavy dark handwriting still rested on top of her luggage. She picked it up, reverently studying his words. Had it really only been three days? How could she have been so naive to believe she could pack a bag with a few things and return as if nothing had happened? Three days? With anguish, she knew deep down in her heart and soul her feelings for Roman had been there for the past six months. Only she’d first hidden them behind her misplaced feelings for Todd. Then she’d denied how she felt about him by keeping Todd’s ring on her finger like some sort of shield used in battle. She moaned out loud with the painful realization that falling in love with someone like Roman Vasquez was the stupidest thing she’d ever done in her adult life. Well, the stupidest thing she’d done next to believing she and Todd had a chance at marriage. At least with Todd she hadn’t lost her heart over him. With him, she had made her decision based purely on what she thought would be good for her. Love hadn’t exactly factored into their engagement. 195
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With Roman it was one hot kiss, a contract, and the wedding of her dreams...and the next thing she knew she was falling headfirst in love with the man. Unresolved about what to do, she collected her bags and headed for the cozy confines of her bedroom, which brought a little comfort to her as she switched out of her boring work clothes for a silk wrap. After leaving his apartment this morning, she’d only enough time to make it home, drop off her luggage, and quickly change into appropriate office attire. Now all she wanted was a long, hot bath and a night of self-pity in front of the television with a big bowl of her favorite ice cream. After a bubble bath, she felt somewhat revitalized and opted instead for a large glass of white wine as she put on a soothing Diana Krall CD and settled down onto her sofa. Reluctantly she reached for the newspapers she’d bought on her lunch hour. Again she gazed at his image, feeling a mix of sadness and longing for him, which was ridiculous. How did one miss someone like Roman Vasquez? Be honest. The guy is much more than you thought. After spending the last few days together, she found herself surprised at his thoughtfulness, drawn to his attentive caring and sincere concern, in awe of his loving relationship with his family members. There was more depth to him than she’d first thought. Definitely more to him than the player image the newspapers portrayed. She had firsthand knowledge of that. He’d been a gentleman the whole time she’d been with him, never taking more than she was willing to give. She remembered how gentle he had been with her as he carried her off his plane in the freezing cold, mindless to anything but her welfare, and how tenderly he had kissed her on the moonlit beach 196
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after their wedding. She shivered inside as she recalled him saying that kiss had been for him alone. Though, at this point it was crazy to think anything more could happen between them. She had proof of that as she stared at his handwritten note still lying on the coffee table where she’d placed it earlier. With an aching heart, she leaned over and picked up the neatly folded piece of plain white paper, opening it again to reread his heavily inked words. The note had been waiting for her this morning, since he must have written it before leaving in the predawn hours. Her first reaction had been to tear it to pieces, the same way the note had ripped apart her already battered heart. But somehow she hadn’t been able to. It was a link to him. Something tangible, something to show they were connected somehow. She reread his words, and a painful sorrow filled her. He stated that his trip had been important to him, and on second thought, he was heading to Hawaii. That he would be in contact with her when need be, and he thanked her once again for helping him with the business deal. This weekend was perfect. More than you know. Take care, April. Roman Very formal and very cold—and exactly what she had asked for. Only now she wished she could turn back the clock and have the holiday weekend back. Wishful thinking on her part. She’d practically pushed the guy out the door. Every time he tried to get serious, she blew him off and refused to believe something could be happening between them. Maybe if she’d tried harder, or maybe believed in him more, trusted him more like he asked, or maybe if he hadn’t gone to Hawaii… Maybe. Lots of maybes. The truth was she was miserable without him. 197
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She glanced at the diamond on her left hand and took another long drink of her wine, knowing nothing could ease the terrible pain and sense of loss she felt inside. Ultimately, she knew in her heart it was no use crying over a man who wasn’t hers and was never going to be hers. She realized she had to stop this pity party before she spent the night crying into her pillow. She’d gone into this deal with her eyes wide open and had no one to blame but herself for falling in love with Roman Vasquez. **** Roman eyed the exotic beach and the white foam of the ocean as it rolled ashore. The heat of the midday sun beat down on his bare back where he sat brooding on a rock ledge, gazing down on the most beautiful view a man could buy. Though he was in the tropical paradise of Hawaii, he felt none of the warmth, passion, and splendor it contained. Instead his mind was a million miles away. “Staring at the ocean twelve hours a day is not going to solve anything,” Rafael proclaimed in rapid Spanish, handing Roman an icy cold beer as he took a seat next to his friend. He nodded and accepted the beer, then took a long drink before answering. “Who says I’m trying to solve anything?” he replied in Spanish, giving his friend a narrowed look. Rafael grinned knowingly. “Obviously you have something on your mind. The guys and I think it has something to do with the beautiful wife you left behind in New York? The same woman you only just married? Care to fill me in on what’s going on and why you’re here with four losers like us when you have someone like her at home?” Roman snorted in sarcastic astonishment. “Anything else you want to know?” “Let’s start with the real reason you’re here? I 198
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don’t believe for a minute April is really working this week. Which also just so happens to be your honeymoon.” “That isn’t a lie. She’s really working this week. The ever faithful Miss Sutton, always at her desk all neat and tidy, tormenting any man who happens to enter her office.” He took another drink of his beer. “All right, she’s working. So what’s the problem? At the wedding it seemed like—” “—we were in love with one another?” he bit out, interrupting Rafael's observation. “Love had nothing to do with the reason we married.” Rafael sat stunned, obviously not believing what Roman had admitted. “But you two seemed so perfect for each other. I don’t understand what’s going on?” Roman glanced over to Rafael and then back to the ocean, not wanting to see the disappointment or the judgmental glare he knew was coming. “Our marriage is business. A contract. Cut and dried. Money, buildings, and legal red tape.” Rafael simmered for a full minute before answering. “Amigo, I might need a little more info than that—before I tell you what an ass you are!” he announced heatedly. “How could you be so cold, so callous? Playing with emotions and feelings and making us all believe you found the perfect woman for you. Fooling us into thinking you were happy and in love. I don’t understand. Please tell me you had good reason to play with people’s lives like that. ” Roman didn’t bother to try to deny or excuse his behavior. “My grandfather’s will. The old man had a clause put in it. I had to be married before I turned thirty-five or his money would go to my stepgrandmother’s spoiled, over-indulged grown children. I, on the other hand, wanted the money to build a hospital wing for children suffering with cancer. Due to a stupid act on my part, my first 199
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choice for a contract bride walked out on me. I could have waited and contested the will. But April happened to be handy. I played on her sympathies, and the rest is matrimonial history.” Rafael jumped to his feet and paced ten yards before turning to fire off a string of curses. “Do you think you could talk someone like April into such a deal without hurting her in the end?” Roman ignored the baited question and instead finished his beer with one final drink. “So you married her, and everything was supposed to be cut and dried. What about your vows you took in front of everyone?” Rafael admonished. “What? Are you my mother now?” he growled. He tempered his next words, not wanting to take out his frustrations on his best friend. “I’m sorry, Rafael. Believe me, I’m also truly sorry for involving her. I admit the whole marriage deal got a little more complicated with April. I didn’t like doing it, but it was for the best. I needed that money, and I didn’t wanna wait another year while my grandfather’s will got strung out in court. Nothing was going to stand in my way. In the long run, a lot of very sick children with cancer will benefit from that hospital addition.” Rafael nodded. “I too am sorry, Roman. I can see what you’re trying to do, and it’s commendable. You’re right as usual. But did you have to pick someone like April? She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would be able to separate business and pleasure.” “We have an agreement,” he ground out bitterly. “So you have an understanding. So why, then, have you been so ornery since meeting up with the guys? You’re like a bull with a sore hoof. Something wrong with your perfect agreement?” he bit out. Roman winced at how close his friend was getting to the truth. He gave Rafael a dark look from 200
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his narrowed eyes before turning back to the bluegreen ocean, reluctant to say what was on his mind. “I can’t seem to get her out of my mind. I’m married to her, yet we aren’t married. She’s mine but not really mine to have. And it hasn’t only been like this since our wedding. The last six months I’ve been tortured by her. She was engaged to another man. Each time I had an appointment at my lawyer’s office, I saw her and the diamond ring she wore on her left hand. You and I, we were both raised to respect another man’s woman. So I did nothing, pretended I felt nothing.” He took a deep, reaffirming breath. “Luckily he was a fool and gave her up. Now she is legally mine but wants nothing to do with me, which leaves me totally frustrated as hell.” Rafael listened to Roman’s long, anguished speech and shook his head in apparent astonishment. “For beginners, you big idiot, did you at least tell her you love her?” “I asked her to marry me—twice in one weekend.” Rafael laughed loudly from the gut, his black eyes flashing with pure, menacing humor. “For a very smart man, you are very stupid when it comes to anything involving women’s hearts. They want to be told that you love them. Try it. Tell her and see what happens.” “Are we really talking about this?” “Have I ever steered you wrong?” “Maybe this is the way things are supposed to work out. Maybe I’m not meant to settle down with someone?” “You’re a fool, Roman. Can’t you see what is right in front of you? What you have with April. What’s been there for the last six months?” he questioned heatedly. “I was the same way before I met Julia. I had my life all planned out. She came 201
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into my world, and I didn’t know which way was up. I fought it to the very end. Now I would give anything to have one more day with her. Don’t waste the best thing that has ever happened to you!” With that, Roman watched his friend stormed back toward the beach house. Rafael’s words sank heavily into his heart until he felt as if he were bleeding inside. It was like Rafael had said—he had his life all mapped out. Until she entered it. Inside he knew, deep down, that she belonged with him. She had from the very first time he saw her cross the room to him. He remembered how he’d stopped breathing the minute he’d laid eyes on her. How nothing seemed to exist, except for her, as he took her hand in his for a formal greeting. He stared out at the azure skies and swaying palm trees, savoring the burning Hawaiian heat, remembering how he’d felt the first time he’d looked into her exquisite violet eyes. How he’d felt the first time she looked up at him, tentatively, her beautiful face blushing sweetly before she looked away. For six long months he’d pushed away, denied, and ultimately killed any feelings he had for her. But he couldn’t hold back any longer. He needed her, wanted to love her, share his life with her, commit to a lasting relationship on every level. He knew in his heart he’d wanted that from her all along. Now he had to find out once and for all if she was willing. If he decided to take the next step and confess how he felt about her, there would be no going back, he proclaimed to himself. He stared intently out across the glittering expanse, wondering if she would take that next step with him. **** “Hi, girlfriend. Jake and I just got back in from Florida late last night. Our flight was delayed twice, 202
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and don’t get me started on what happened to my luggage.” April glanced up from her computer and frowned. Emily eyed her from the open office door, hesitating briefly before entering with a big smile on her face; the woman obviously knew she was on shaky ground with her BFF. April remained silent and gave her a dark glare in return. Determined, Emily continued on. “I’m absolutely beat this morning, but I still wanted to come into work to finish the Harrison contracts. So how was your week?” she hummed. April finally relented. “My week? Well, let’s see—besides getting married to your brother last weekend, I went to work, cleaned out my refrigerator, sorted my clothes closet, ate three pounds of chocolate, and polished off a few too many bottles of wine. I guess it was the normal week for me,” she stated dryly, trying to sound flippant when she felt anything but. “I know you’re mad at me. I talked to Henry this morning. So let me make it up to you and take you out to dinner tonight. It’s Friday, you sound like you had a rough week, and we both deserve to go out and relax. Jake is working late, and we can discuss everything at length and sort everything out,” Emily pleaded, sounding sincerely sorry for her part in the New Year’s Eve matchmaking debacle. She tried to stay mad at her best friend but ended up laughing at her instead. “Oh, all right. Dinner tonight. A girl’s chat session sounds exactly like what I need. Where should I meet you?” Emily told her the name of a hard-to-get-into restaurant, what street it was on, and the time to meet her before disappearing out the office door. After work she found herself staring into her closet, trying hard to ignore the long, creamy-white 203
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dress that taunted her. She fingered the silky material as memories flashed in her mind: how handsome Roman looked on their wedding night, how warm his hand had felt on her back as they danced together, how passionately he’d kissed her. And how special he made her feel each time he looked at her in the moonlight. She released a long sigh and pulled from her closet the dress she had originally bought to wear on New Year’s Eve, long before she had gotten sucked into Roman Vasquez’s life. The dress itself was black chiffon, fitted, halter style, and definitely sexy, with gold and blue sequin details at the waist. The pleated hem swept the top of her knees and flowed delicately around her. The back was the open, plunging kind and rather daring, but she’d loved it the minute she’d tried it on. She hung the dress on the outside of her closet door, grabbed a pair of black, ultra-high sexy Rene Caovilla heels to pair with it, and went to shower. Afterward, she took extra care with her light makeup and hairstyle. Tonight she opted to leave her hair loose and flowing, since during the week it was predictably styled up and off her shoulders. Climbing out of the taxi, she entered the exclusive eatery, hoping Emily was already there. She checked her coat, gave her name to the hostess, and promptly followed the maître d’ through the dark polished wood, glass, and white table-clothed dining room to where Emily waited for her. Never one to be star struck, April found herself taking second glances at the neighboring tables where many of the rich and famous were already seated, enjoying their wintery Manhattan post-holiday evening. April slid into a booth in an intimate corner of the posh restaurant and smiled with astonishment. “Emily! How did you ever get a table in a place like 204
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this?” she whispered, across the table in the candlelight to her grinning friend. “One of the perks of being Roman Vasquez’s little sister.” Emily laughed contently, dressed tonight in a deep cabernet-red cocktail dress similar in style to April’s. “Roman’s buddy Juan owns the place. So I can get in anytime I want—with a few hours notice of course.” On hearing Roman’s name, April felt a nervous shiver travel through her. “Well, thanks all the same. I’ve always wanted to eat here, but it’s impossible to get in,” she replied, smiling to cover her nerves. “So you said Jake had to work late?” “Yes. He had some kind of deadline on some project. At least it gives us a chance to spend some time together,” Emily said happily. “So, tell me, what is my brother doing in Hawaii six days after getting married?” April choked on her sip of lemon water and put down the long-stemmed glass with a plunk. “I’ve been at the table exactly one minute, Emily. Could you please at least hold the firing squad questions until I’ve gotten a cocktail down?” Emily laughed with good humor. “Henry told me Roman was in Hawaii. I know he usually goes there with his buddies after the holidays. But really, I couldn’t believe he still went this year.” April shrugged and tried to sound nonchalant about the subject. “Why should he change his plans? He went to Hawaii and I’m back at work. That was the deal, as you well know.” Emily opened her mouth and closed it and opened it again. “Yes, but…I mean, wasn’t there something going on at the wedding between you two? I can’t believe he would actually leave after…after…” “…after what, Emily?” “Well, I mean, I could see the way he looked at 205
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you. Besides, my brother has never, ever brought home a woman for the family to meet. He brought you home to marry in front of our mother and everyone. That has to tell you something.” She tried to calm her racing pulse. “Yes, it tells me that your brother is a good actor. You know the whole wedding thing was all for show. Now it’s back to reality. Can we change the subject to something more enlightening, like how you and Henry set me up?” she whispered across the table. Emily blushed, momentarily delayed in answering April’s accusations as the waiter brought them a bottle of champagne and took their dinner order. April requested a delicious-sounding seafood dish, took a sip of her champagne, and picked up the conversation. “Well?” Emily at least had the good grace to look guilty. “I know we shouldn’t have interfered and should have minded our own business, but something had to be done. You clearly were fascinated with my brother, and he definitely had a crush on you from what Henry told me, so we thought if we got you two mule-heads together something might happen. I thought putting you together in Miami over the New Year holiday weekend would be the trick. Only we had to take drastic measures when Henry clued me in on what Roman was up to with the outrageous marriage contract with that Justine woman. It was amazingly good luck on our side that Henry thought to have you deliver the contracts personally to Roman,” she stated, sounding quite pleased. “Like I said to Henry, thanks for nothing,” April returned, taking another sip of her pricy French Veuve Cliquot champagne. Emily leaned over the table and looked directly into her friend’s eyes; her own pretty brown ones dead serious. “April, can you honestly tell me you’d 206
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rather not be married to Roman?” She didn’t know how to reply. “Emily, it isn’t a matter of wanting or not wanting to be married to him. There are so many things to take into consideration, like the contract, a hospital wing, his lifestyle, my lifestyle, families and friends—” “Pooh! Are you in love with my brother or not?” She felt the sting of hot tears torch her eyes, her resolve to hold strong crumbling after six long days without him. She nodded and gave in without a fight. “Yes,” she murmured miserably, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her starched white napkin. “But it’s not like that between us. I didn’t mean to fall in love with him. Only it happened without me realizing it was. Seriously, who falls in love over a holiday weekend?” She released a little hiccup-cry before continuing. “Anyhow, now I feel wretched about what happened between us. It all seemed so simple at first. He stated up front what he wanted from me, and I told him what I was looking for. We agreed we weren’t right for each other and we would stand by the contract we signed. But then…well, I won’t gross you out with the intimate details of what happened between your brother and me over the weekend. All I can say is that after everything—he’s in Hawaii and I’m here.” Emily sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, boy, are you two bull-headed or what? Is my brother absolutely blind or just plain stupid? Everyone at the wedding could see what was between you two. Henry and I’ve seen it for months, and yet you both are so determined to run the other way and not look back. I’ve never seen two people so right for each other and yet so oblivious to that fact.” April dabbed her eyes again with the corner of her crisp linen napkin, totally miserable. “Well, I really don’t have much say in the matter. You’re right about your brother. He’s the most pig-headed 207
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man I’ve ever met. Are all the men in your family so hard headed?” Emily chuckled and poured herself another glass of bubbly. “Yes, every last one,” she confirmed. “But with that said, I have to admit the Vasquez men also have a weak spot when it comes to falling in love. My dear brother, in his tough guy way, was trying to show you that over the weekend.” She laughed and gave a little cry of pain at the same time as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, really Emily, trust me, Roman isn’t in love with me. I thought maybe something was starting to happen between us, that he was starting to feel something more. At the wedding he was almost like a real groom, and then later when we got back to his apartment in New York…well, we sort of…hooked up.” “About time,” Emily murmured over the rim of her champagne glass before taking a delicate sip. “Everything was great between us, but then he left for Hawaii,” April continued. All the details she’d kept locked away for the past week, tumbling out thanks to her BFF and her second glass of champagne. “I was so stupid to think he wanted something more. I thought he was different. I guess I was wrong. Maybe all he really wants is his fastpaced single status and to make money.” Emily smiled secretively. “Are you sure? Because he’s headed this way with a look on his face like he knows exactly what he wants.”
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Chapter Sixteen April felt stunned. Roman, here! Now? Her breath caught in her chest, and she felt lightheaded. She turned in time to witness him walking through the restaurant toward them, looking like something out of a woman’s fantasy: impossibly handsome, rugged, gorgeous, and undeniably powerful. And definitely too good to be true. Only he was real. Tonight he was dressed in a sharp black suit and black shirt with no tie. He’d left the collar open, which gave her a teasing glimpse of his tanned throat and chest. His sleek black hair was neatly trimmed, and he was clean shaven—the quintessential New York City male. Behind him and dressed in similar style was Emily’s tall, goodlooking husband Jake, who immediately leaned down to kiss his wife before smiling warmly to both women. “April,” was all the greeting Roman gave as he narrowed his intense gaze on her. “Sorry, ladies. I found out Roman flew in a few hours ago, and I suggested we catch up with you both—if you don’t mind us joining you?” Jake explained, looking a little sheepish in the process. “No, darling, I’ll slide over,” Emily said with a broad grin, making room for her husband on her side of the intimate booth. April blushed and looked up into Roman’s brooding face. “Yes, please have a seat,” she murmured tersely, reluctantly moving over to let 209
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him share her side of the table. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice gritty as he moved to sit next to her. “You’re welcome.” In the soft candlelight of the table he stared down at her with an odd expression. “That dress is really nice. But kinda revealing, don’t you think?” he grumped, sounding fiercely possessive. “Don’t get me wrong, I like it. I just don’t like the fact other guys are seeing your naked back.” She ignored his remark. “Thank you. Glad you like it…I think.” She felt lightheaded again from the close confines and his dominating presence. She hadn’t seen him in six days and was taken aback by the sheer size of him and the raw energy he emitted. His broad shoulders and long legs overwhelmed her and made her feel tiny by comparison. His smoldering dark eyes never left hers as he settled next to her. Finally she had to look away, knowing she was blushing profusely. Damning him and her rotten luck, she gave Emily a telling glance. Her friend answered with a shrug and an Honest, I didn’t know they were meeting us look. Still suspicious, April turned to Roman. “So, you just happen to be back in town and decided to come here tonight for dinner. Isn’t that interesting?” she questioned, trying not to sound as hotheaded as she felt at the moment. She made the mistake of looking into his gorgeous tawny-brown eyes, and for a moment she forgot why she was so mad at him. “I usually have dinner here on Friday nights when I’m in town. As Emily must have told you, my buddy Juan owns the place.” “Well, sorry. I didn’t realize you frequented this place,” she huffed. “Emily happened to pick this 210
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restaurant tonight, as luck would have it.” He leaned over, brushed his check against hers, and inhaled deeply. “You smell really good tonight.” Okay, now she was totally rattled. “Thank you, again.” “Are you cold? Would you like my jacket,” he asked, still sounding irritated at how revealing her dress was. “Absolutely not. I didn’t get to wear this dress on New Year’s Eve, so I’m making the most of it tonight,” she answered tartly, not liking how he made himself at home as he draped an arm around the back of the booth and accepted a glass of champagne from his sister. He finally relaxed and smiled, obviously now amused at her fiery temper. “I’m sorry we interrupted your night out.” He leaned closer again. “But maybe I can make it up to you later?” he whispered stealthily, for her ears only. She blushed again and inched away from him. His warm breath on her ear had been like scorching fire on ice. “I doubt you can,” she sulked. He was acting strangely, and she had no idea what to make of it. Really, does the man think he can just waltz back into my life whenever he wants? She shot him a guarded look. “By the way, how was Hawaii? Did you find anything interesting to do there?” “I surfed and hung out with my friends. The usual,” he said dryly. “Rafael and I had a very interesting conversation, though.” Before she could reply, they were interrupted by the waiter taking the men’s dinner order. She took the opportunity to control her breathing. From across the table Emily shook her head and mouthed the words again while crossing her heart to swear she had no idea that her brother would turn up tonight. April didn’t know what to believe. In hindsight, she guessed her friend might have known 211
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Roman could show up tonight and had picked this particular restaurant just for that reason. Total setup. After they finished their champagne, Roman ordered wine for the table and a beer for himself and dinner was served. This thankfully saved her from having to endure his full, magnetic attention, since he was busy tying into his food with gusto and discussing the Rangers hockey games and the upcoming Super Bowl with Jake. Wound up, she picked at her food, trying to eat at least half of her delicious pasta and seafood. Finally she gave Roman her plate to finish, and he easily devoured what was left. She took a sip of her wine. Great. First the man takes over my life, then he ruins my night out, and now he’s eaten my dinner. Was there no aspect of her life left that didn’t involve Roman Vasquez? The past week she’d worked hard to forget all six-foot-two swarthy inches of him, which she hadn’t actually been able to do. Each night she’d cried herself to sleep, and during the day she’d worked, distracted beyond comprehension as memories from the sexy holiday weekend flashed through her mind. All she wanted was one night of relaxation with a friend, to forget the fact that she’d lost her mind and heart to some man who didn’t want or need her. Just one night to forget. And now all her troubles were sitting right next to her, live and in person, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it but pretend she didn’t care. “—so is that all right with you, April?” Emily’s question brought her back to reality, and she watched in horror as both Emily and Jake moved out of the booth and bid them goodnight. Before she could say anything, they were gone, and she was left cornered in the booth by Roman, who 212
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looked as if he wasn’t in the least ready to call it a night. “I’m sorry, but did I miss something?” she sputtered, riled that her best friend would up and leave her. He turned and looked at her with nothing less than a dangerous gleam in his dark eyes. Slowly he reached over and ran a long brown finger down her arm, making her jump again at his nearness. “They wanted to go somewhere for an after-dinner drink,” he explained, watching her closely. “Oh,” was all she could reply as he continued to stroke her bare flesh. “Your skin is so silky,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss her shoulder with his warm lips. “Don’t,” she complained, shivering with an icy heat. “Why?” “Because I don’t like it when you do that,” she breathed, wondering what was up with him tonight. “You don’t like this either?” he asked as he moved to kiss her neck. “Roman, I don’t…I don’t understand what’s going on with you tonight,” she complained, pulling away from him even though she was on fire for his touch. “Are you feeling all right? Did you pick up some kind of tropical virus or something?” He laughed and took hold of her hand. “You’re very beautiful, April. Maybe I missed you while I was away,” he taunted, taking her hand in his to study her wedding ring before he lowered his lips to her fingers. “Oh, please, you’ve never missed anyone in your life. That’s including your poor mother. So if you don’t mind, I’ll call it a night,” she announced, trying to pull her hand from his large warm one. He didn’t budge even as she tried to get him to move out of the booth. Instead he laughed at her 213
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statement, flashing even white teeth. “And why would you want to do that?” She steamed inwardly. “Roman, please. I don’t feel like playing mind games with you tonight. Don’t you have some supermodel you can call on speed dial or something?” she asked haughtily. “All the supermodels heard I got married, so I’m out of luck. I guess you’re stuck with me,” he teased, seeming to love the anger in her violet eyes. “Just my luck,” she grumped. “What are you really doing here? Didn’t your note state you weren’t going to contact me unless it was absolutely necessary?” “Let’s go somewhere and talk,” he ordered abruptly, pulling her out of the booth and through the restaurant behind him, her hand tightly clasped in his while she worked to keep up with him in her five-inch Caovilla’s. “Hello. I’ve got heels on,” she complained in a hushed whisper to his broad back, teetering along, while he ignored her and continued on through to the coat check. He took her check number and helped her with her coat, his fingers sliding tantalizingly across her bare shoulders. Her skin quivered at the contact, and she was sure his teasing touch had been deliberate. He took her hand in his again, and she had no recourse but to follow him out the door, baffled by his actions. The last time they’d been together it had been light, breezy, fun, with no strings attached. They’d come to an understanding the night of his birthday that one night of hot, steamy sex was all that would take place between them. The note he’d written to her confirmed the fact and made her realize, in a heart-breaking grown-up kind of way that he wasn’t going to change his mind. Now? Well, it was anyone’s guess. She wasn’t sure if she was going to like what they were about to 214
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discuss. Their cab pulled up in front of his apartment building, and for a split second she thought of protesting that he hadn’t taken her somewhere more neutral. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him, especially in his penthouse loft where they’d shared their first kiss and where she fell hopelessly in love with him. Through the lobby and in the elevator he held on to her hand; the feeling of being protected and safe almost made her cry. It was pure joy just to be next to him, to have him near her again. The long week had been excruciating, and she didn’t know how she was going to deal with what he was going to tell her. She guessed by the way he now held himself so rigid, with his mouth a tight firm line, it wasn’t something good. She blinked back tears at the thought that maybe he wanted to rip up their marriage contract and end their association altogether. Maybe he’d found a loophole in his grandfather’s will and didn’t need her after all? I have absolutely no luck with men. I can’t even hold on to a fake husband. At his apartment door they were greeted by Alex, Roman’s assistant, who was all smiles as he held the door for them to enter. “Everything is ready. Enjoy your evening,” Alex smirked, before the assistant grabbed his coat and closed the door behind him. April stood in the softly lit foyer of Roman’s oneof-a-kind loft and looked up at him, raising a brow in question. “What’s going on, Roman? I’m not in the mood for fun and games tonight. I’ve done everything you asked of me, and if you think—” Her complaint was cut short as he pulled her against him in one swift move to cover her mouth with his. His tongue swept her mouth, teasing hers 215
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until she relented and kissed him back. It was the kind of kiss that could be either I-missed-you-likehell or here’s-one-last-kiss-before-I-tell-you-goodbye. She prayed and hoped with all her heart it was the first option. With a deep groan of satisfaction, he released his grip on her only to push her coat back off her arms, leaving it to drop to the polished floor. His large hands canvassed her bare arms, explored her partially clad back, and finally came to rest on her firm derriere as he pulled her to him. Taking a breath, he swallowed hard and moaned huskily. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” Breathless herself, all she could do was shake her head as she stared up into his dark eyes. He’d already shed his overcoat, and her hands were spread out on his chest. The muscles underneath his suit coat felt powerful beneath her fingertips, leaving her lightheaded at how strong he was yet how gentle he could be. His eyes narrowed dangerously, his bold features taking on a primitive quality. “You’re so…beautiful,” he murmured gruffly, before kissing her again, surprisingly with complete tenderness. She felt as if she were in some kind of dream, and at any moment she would wake up and find out that her fantasy wasn’t true and what was happening wasn’t what it seemed. She pushed away from him and shook her head, quickly stepping back. “Don’t do this, Roman,” she begged softly, knowing she couldn’t let him continue kissing her. “We had an agreement. And I’m not someone you can just pick up and play with when you’re at loose ends.” She backed farther away from him and stood her ground while her heart broke into a million pieces. He walked toward her while she backed up 216
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again, out of his reach. “April, that’s not what coming here is about,” he promised, reaching out to take her hand in his. She snatched it away and continued to walk backward down the entry hall toward the main living area of the loft. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she whispered weakly. “Why don’t you want me to touch you?” “You know perfectly well why I don’t,” she said, bumping up against the sofa. “The contract said we would have no contact until it was time to separate. I’m trying to live up to my end of the agreement. Your note also stated pretty clearly what you wanted.” He stopped in front of her and continued to stare down into her eyes. “I’m sorry I wrote that note. And I’m deeply sorry if I hurt you by leaving,” he said roughly. “I don’t want anything from you. So what’s the point of all of this?” she demanded. “I think you do want something from me,” he countered, sounding like a man bent on getting what he wanted. He moved up to her, closing the distance between them. “Roman, we need to be adult about this and level headed,” she pleaded, not wanting to feel his touch, even though it felt like heaven to have him this close to her again. He leaned down, pinned her against the back of the sofa, and captured her lips in a slow and deliberate kiss that sent slivers of fiery heat through her body. She knew it would take very little encouragement from him for her to forget her promise of not getting involved. She could feel her resolve slipping away as he continued to show her how much he wanted her. With her heart breaking, she looked up into his eyes. “I can’t do this with you, Roman.” She pushed 217
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away from him and turned, shocked at what awaited her. A multitude of candles flickered amongst hundreds of velvety long-stemmed red roses intermixed with an array of exotic blooms. All arranged in sparkling crystal vases and placed about the loft as a cozy fire crackled in the fireplace. Chilled champagne and two flutes awaited them on the coffee table, next to what looked to be the top tier of their wedding cake. His apartment was nothing less than a recreation of their wedding night in Miami. Complete with orange trees strung with white twinkle lights, randomly placed about the high-ceilinged penthouse. Tears welled behind her eyes as a sentimental arrow pierced her heart. Unbelievably heartstopping only began to describe what she was feeling not only for the setting, but for the man. Roman moved away from her to turn on some romantic music similar to what the band had played at their wedding. Then he moved up behind her, capturing her in the circle of his strong arms. He pulled her back against his male hardness, kissed her shoulder, and teased the silky skin of her neck, sending an immediate storm of delight through her. “Roman, I don’t understand. You had this all planned? Tonight at the restaurant…you knew where to find me? But I thought—” was all she could get out as he continued to explore her neck with his mouth, biting her gently with his strong teeth. “I want this to be our night, for you and me to enjoy together. And yes, I came looking for you,” he admitted, releasing his hold on her only to retrieve a packet of papers off the coffee table. April watched as he strode to the fireplace and opened the envelope, taking out what looked to be their contract marriage papers. The same ones she’d signed in this very apartment. The same papers that 218
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bound them together, that defined their marriage, and the very same contract meant for another woman. She gasped when he tossed the whole packet into the fire. A burst of flames shot up and crackled noisily as the papers quickly ignited. “Are you insane?” “Yes. Insane from the minute I met you,” he murmured. More confused than ever, she shook her head. “I don’t understand?” “I’m trying to make a statement. Our marriage contract doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just you and me now,” he boldly declared, coming to stand in front of her again. Her mouth dropped open and closed. “But what about needing a wife? You needed that contract to get your inheritance and to build the hospital wing,” she sputtered, unable to believe what she’d witnessed. “No. I don’t need those papers anymore. And as for a wife—you're my wife. We were legally married in Florida in front of everyone and God. Those papers don’t mean anything. All the contract did was set rules and boundaries. I don’t want some damn paper ruling what is between us or telling me how I should feel about you,” he said with fierce conviction. “I made a solemn vow and commitment to you. You’re my wife. I don’t want to live my life without you in it. That’s why I’m burning the contract.” He took her hands in his and gazed deeply into her eyes. “What I feel for you grows stronger each day, stronger each time I look at you, each time I breathe your scent…each time I look into your eyes…each time I touch your skin.” Her legs felt weak underneath her. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t want her for his real wife: a partner to share everything with, good times and 219
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bad, children, even the everyday mundane routine of life. “April, say something,” he demanded and continued to squeeze her hands within his, gazing deeply into her tear-filled eyes. “Are you telling me you want to stay married?” she breathed, not yet daring to believe it was true. “I’m telling you exactly that. And that I love you like hell,” he ground out, sounding painfully tortured as he did so. “No…you can’t,” she choked, shaking her head, not able to comprehend as he pulled her into him. “Yeah, I really love you, baby,” he whispered and caressed her naked back with tantalizing slowness. She buried herself in him, too overcome to express what was in her heart. He pulled back to gaze down into her eyes, swallowing hard. “Christ, I don’t know how else to say this, so I guess I’ll say it straight out.” He tightened his hold on her. “Baby, I’ve loved you from the very first moment I saw you,” he confessed, his voice thick and husky with emotion. “It’s been there the whole time. Only I was too stubborn to see it. At first I could fight it since you were engaged. I wasn’t about to get entangled with some others guy’s woman. But that night when you came here without your ring on, I knew I was in trouble. There wasn’t anything holding me back. All bets were off from that point on.” He paused, a tense expression riding on his features. “You know, nothing makes sense without you. We’ve got something really good…and I don’t wanna let it go. I love you. I know this is crazy, but maybe in time you’ll feel the same.” April looked deep into his eyes, wanting to trust and believe, wanting so much to be free to love him. What she saw reflected in his eyes told her all she needed to know. It was the look of a man waiting on 220
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the edge of a cliff, not knowing which fate awaited him. Trust, faith, love. She’d had those with him from the beginning. They had been there all along. They would be there forever. She nodded, her voice shaky and utterly weak. “I don’t need more time…I love you, Roman,” she whispered. The words were barely out before he lifted her off her feet, hauling her up against him to cover her mouth with his in a kiss that sealed their love for one another. Hot tears of pure happiness spilled down her flushed cheeks as she kissed him back, freely, releasing all the emotion she’d been saving for this moment. What seemed like a lifetime later, he slowly let her slide down his body until her feet were touching the floor, kissing her the whole time, nipping and teasing her lips with his until she moaned with desire. He pulled back from her and looked into her eyes, emotion running high in his voice. “Do you know I have been totally crazy for you for the last six months? It killed me to see you knowing I couldn’t have you. Now you’re mine. You’re my everything, baby,” he commanded, kissing her again, this time with a fierce possessiveness that took her breath away. She started to giggle against his lips. “Now you’re mine?” she echoed through a tearful smile. “That sounds pretty macho.” “I can’t help it. You asked for this, you know. A guy can stand only so much,” he teased, rubbing the rough plane of his face against hers. “Plus, on my birthday when I asked you to marry me for real and you brushed it off, I didn’t think I had a chance in hell after that.” She shook her head smiled playfully. “You were kidding, right?” “No, I was serious.” 221
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Her smile faded, and now it was her turn to become serious. “I’m so sorry, Roman. I didn’t understand that night. I thought you weren’t into marriage and that you were just teasing about the proposal thing.” “I would never joke about my feelings for you,” he said hoarsely, his dark eyes narrowed with determination. “If you hadn’t come back from Hawaii and tracked me down…if you hadn’t—” “—I know,” he confirmed, in a soothing voice. “We’d be living separate lives.” She sighed with relief against his chest and hugged him back. “So, I guess we’re stuck with each other now?” she quipped, moving the palms of her hands over his muscled chest as she stole a quick look at him. “Hell, yeah.” He gave her one of his trademark dangerously sexy grins. “By the way, we didn’t use any protection in the shower. Do you think…?” His words shocked her. “I don’t know,” she gasped. “Maybe? Would that be okay? If I was expecting already?” “More than okay with me.” He paused and gave her a brief, tender kiss before continuing. “You know, baby, you’ve made me think long and hard about what’s been missing in my life. About having a family, kids, the whole deal. I was even thinking of names on the jet earlier on my way back from Hawaii. If you are pregnant, how about Caesar if it’s a boy, or maybe January if it’s a girl.” She smiled up to him. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she taunted, amused at his typical determination to get whatever he wanted. “What if I didn’t say I loved you back? What then?” “That wasn’t an option in my game plan,” he stated confidently. “Truthfully, I would wait for you forever. I love you. I will always be in love with you. 222
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Hell, I wish I could say something poetic right now, or at least something smooth. I guess you’re my world now. Does that work, baby?” Reaching up, she brushed a sweet kiss across his lips. “Can I get that in writing?” she teased with a wicked smile. He dished out a sexy wink and a devilish grin. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Vasquez.” She smiled happily and snuggled against his strong chest, content with the knowledge she’d found the perfect guy to have a one-night fling with…for the rest of her life. Outside the penthouse, the hustle and bustle of sparkling Manhattan continued on. A stream of yellow taxis passed in the glittering night, while a flurry of snowflakes wafted about in the icy January sky…all as an air of romance lingered from the holidays.
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A word about the author... Author Linda Engman loves to write about falling in love when you least expect it. She also loves to write about heroes who are sexy, rugged, hardworking men, and she always has fun creating sassy heroines with their awesome careers and fashionable wardrobes. She currently lives in northwest Wisconsin on a beautiful wooded lake in a chalet-style home with her husband, their two teenagers, and two dogs. Linda is also a member of Romance Writers of America. Visit Linda at lindaengman.com.
Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press publication. For other wonderful stories of romance, please visit our on-line bookstore at www.thewildrosepress.com. For questions or more information contact us at
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