Never a Bride

by Caridad Piñeiro

But his heart . . . the heart that had longed for so long to be with her made up thousands of excuses for why he should remain in the blink of an eye. Everything from what could happen if she woke up ill to her falling out of bed and cracking her head open. And with all those dire scenarios running through his head, he gave in to his heart’s desire.

  He walked over to a wing chair placed invitingly before a gas fireplace in her bedroom. The remote for the fireplace was on a small table by the chair. There was a hint of damp and chill in the air thanks to the snowy night and since he planned on sleeping above the covers as a safety precaution, he snapped on the fireplace.

  The warmth was instantaneous and welcome as he slipped off his shoes, socks, suit, and shirt. The heat warmed him as he stood there in his briefs and carefully folded his shirt and pants, and hung his suit jacket over the chair, delaying. Hesitating as he considered what might come of his decision not to leave.

  But with the decision made, he returned to the bed and gently picked up the arm flung out over the empty space beside her, careful not to wake her. He slipped into that space and as soon as he did, she shifted closer and flung her arm back over him and nestled her head on his shoulder.

  It was torture being so close to the person he wanted most and wasn’t sure it made sense to have. But as the warmth of the fireplace and her body chased away the chill, he closed his eyes and let himself believe that it wasn’t all a big mistake. That come the morning and the light of day, everything would be as it should and he and Emma . . .

  He paused there, not wanting to jinx himself with the thought. Whatever was meant to be would be and with that he wrapped an arm around her to keep her close and let himself dream.

  Chapter 15

  Emma woke to tempting warmth and a teasing tickle against her cheek. Half asleep, she tried to smooth away whatever was causing it and encountered a wall of hard muscle and crisp chest hair. She groaned and screwed her eyes shut as memories of the night before pummeled her brain.

  “You okay?” Carlo said and his deep voice rumbled through her, awakening other parts of her body.

  “I am so so sorry,” she said and met his amused gaze.

  “I have to confess that in all the dreams I had about our first night together –”

  “You dreamed about us being together?” she asked, and her heart pounded, rushing blood to all those already alert parts.

  With a half grin that awakened that enticing dimple she had noticed the night before, he shifted so they were face-to-face on the pillow and covered the hand she had splayed on his chest. “I never imagined our first night together or the morning after would be quite like this.”

  There was no mistaking the look in his eyes and what he had expected, but that didn’t keep her from saying, “What did you imagine?”

  “Something more like this,” he said, cradled her cheek, and whispered a soft kiss across her lips.

  “And like this,” he continued and shifted to the sensitive spot right below her ear where he dropped another kiss before leaving a trail down to where her neck met her shoulder. The lick of his tongue had her shuddering a second before his tender love bite rocked her world.

  She moaned and arched up. The bedspread that had been separating them and covering her slipped down a dangerous inch. Enough that he bent and kissed his way across the swell of her breasts before returning to her lips.

  Her nipples were tight, sensitive against the fabric, but she wanted to feel his skin against hers. She jerked the bedspread down as he hauled her close and skin met skin.

  They both shook and broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily.

  “Is this how you pictured it?” she asked and shifted even closer. The long hard ridge of his morning erection pressed against her belly and damp heat flooded between her legs at the thought of him making love to her. Filling her with his incredible length. Covering her with his big beautiful body.

  “Maybe,” he said softly earning her puzzlement as he gently drew up the bedspread to cover her breasts.

  “Just maybe?” she asked and stroked her hand across the hard sweep of his collarbone.

  “I always imagined I’d take you somewhere nice. Maybe the Lighthouse Inn. We’d have dinner. A little wine. Not too much because when I make love to you, I want to know it’s you responding, and not the liquor.”

  Warmth bathed her cheeks at the recollection of the night before and how that hadn’t been the case, but he was gentleman enough not to mention it as he continued.

  “We’d walk back. Maybe stop for ice cream on the corner or some pastries at the bakery because we were going to have coffee and dessert back here.”

  “Just coffee and dessert?” she teased and reached up to smooth away a dark lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. His hair was silky and thick. Alive beneath her fingers as she tangled them into the ever-tousled waves of his hair.

  With a shrug of broad powerful shoulders, he said, “Maybe more, but only if you wanted more.”

  He waited, obviously expectant. “Maybe I’d want more,” she said, still caught in that seesaw of emotions that lately had her opening herself to more with him.

  He smiled and cupped her cheek. “Do you realize we’ve never been on a real date?”

  She hadn’t realized because they had spent so much time together over the years. And then there had been all her friends’ weddings where he’d been her plus one. Not really a date, but close to one considering she’d not had a date with anyone else in all that time.

  At her silence, he said, “I’d like to go on a real date with you. I’d like to take you to dinner, walk you home, and see where it might go.”

  She wanted to say that they were exactly where it might go and that she wished he’d touch her. Kiss her again until she was breathless. Make love to her until she was writhing on the sheets beneath his hard, powerful body. Instead she let common sense reign and said, “I’d like that. Are you free tonight?”

  He grinned and nodded. “For you I’d cancel any plans.”

  CARLO STOOD AT THE door as he had countless times before. Only this time he was as nervous as shit, all done up in the blue suit he’d worn just a couple of days earlier at the press event, holding a bouquet of pink carnations and a bottle of red wine which he’d spent more on than he’d ever had before in his entire life.

  He wanted to make a good first impression for their first ever date. Silly considering he’d known Emma for over eight years, but it was their first date because he wasn’t counting the night at his friend’s restaurant as a date. He hadn’t picked her up, paid for the meal or taken her home. That night didn’t count, but tonight definitely did. Tonight was an official “maybe we should be more than just friends and business colleagues” date. He hoped it wouldn’t be the last one.

  The door popped open about five seconds after he knocked and he recalled Emma’s mantras to brides who were too eager to rush down the aisle. Count to five.

  Had she been waiting expectantly on the other side of the door and used her own suggestion to keep control? he wondered.

  “Come on in,” she said and he stepped into the warmth of her cottage. Warm not just because of the radiators with the slight hiss from their steam, but because of the bright colors and comfortable looking couches and chairs arranged before a fireplace with logs that looked ready to be lit.

  Warm, dare he even say hot, because of the woman standing before him in an emerald green velvet dress that smoothed across her slender curves, making him itch to touch them. The color deepened the green of her eyes, reminding him of the most secret parts of a forest at night.

  “You look beautiful,” he said and thrust the flowers and bottle of wine at her.

  She smiled hesitantly and skimmed her hand down her midsection. “Thank you. You look so handsome in your suit.”

  Trying to ease the tension vibrating between them, he mimicked her actions and ran his hand down the front of his suit jacket. “This old thing? I wanted to look nice for you.”


  She laughed as he intended, and the uneasiness evaporated like morning dew beneath the rising sun. “That’s my line,” she said and gestured toward the kitchen. “Let me get a vase for these and then we can go. Where are we going by the way?”

  “The Dunes. Mac and Meghan do such a fabulous job with the menu and I wanted to support our locals,” he said.

  Emma nodded and walked toward the kitchen. He heard the clink of glassware and running water as she called out, “I love that place. It’s so romantic.”

  He’d been going for romantic because he wanted to romance Emma like she’d hopefully never been romanced before. He only wished he could have seen her face as she said that to figure out if Emma thought romantic was a good thing. But as she strolled out of the kitchen smiling, the bright pink carnations tucked into a vase, he supposed that she thought romantic was a good thing.

  “I love carnations. The scent is so spicy,” she said and buried her face into the blooms to take a big sniff.

  “I know. You have bunches of them in your garden every year.”

  She appeared a little taken aback by that and set the vase on the coffee table in front of the couch. “I didn’t realize you’d noticed.”

  He stepped closer, took hold of her hand and said, “I’ve noticed a lot about you, Emma. Like how your hands get cold when you’re nervous.” Like they were now, and he rubbed them to bring them warmth.

  “How your nose sometimes crinkles when you’re really really thinking about something,” he said and tapped the tip of her nose.

  He closed the last little distance between them and cradled her waist with his hand. Bending slightly, he whispered a kiss across her cheek. “And that your lips are so soft and sweet, it’s all I can do not to kiss you senseless right now.”

  She turned her face just enough that her breath spilled across his lips as she said, “Sounds good to me.”

  He kissed her with all the pent up need he’d been holding back, the kiss hard and demanding. She answered back just as greedily, opening her mouth beneath his to accept the slide of his tongue. Grabbing hold of his lapels to hold him close, she pressed herself against him. Over and over they kissed until they were both shaking and breathless and finally broke apart.

  “I think we better go eat,” he said roughly, his body shaking with need. His brain sure of only one thing: if they didn’t leave soon, he wouldn’t be able to keep from making love to her right then and there.

  She nodded and said, “I think that’s a good idea.”

  Chapter 16

  Jonathan’s Thunder SUV prototype sat at the curb outside her cottage. As Carlo clicked a button on the fob, the interior lights clicked to life. At her questioning glance as Carlo opened the door for her, he said, “Jonathan wanted someone to put it through everyday paces while he and Connie were away.”

  “Not quite sure I see you as a soccer mom,” she teased and sat in the luxurious interior of the SUV. The seats were a buttery soft leather. The assorted gauges on the dash looked like what she imagined high tech rocket ship controls would appear, only wrapped in gleaming burlwood and charcoal gray polymer.

  “Very nice,” she said as Carlo slipped into the driver’s seat.

  He grinned and soothed his hands across the shiny wooden steering wheel. “Perfect for a soccer dad. You know us Portuguese love our soccer.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t I?” She glanced toward the back of the luxury SUV. “So how many soccer players do you think you could fit in here?”

  He shot a quick glance back before starting the engine with the push of a button. “At least three or four kids. Perfect.”

  Just like it was funny that they’d never been on a date, they’d never talked about what either of them wanted in life. “You think you’d like three or four kids?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Never much thought about it. Two would be nice. Boy and a girl. And you?”

  As he watched her from the corner of his eye, she said, “I never thought about it because . . .” She didn’t know how to finish because in the space of a millisecond they’d stepped onto dangerous ground.

  He shot her a quick look and apparently sensing her discomfort, he said, “I’m grateful Ricardo and Javier have so many kids. It takes the pressure off the rest of us, you know.”

  His words alleviated some of the pressure she had been feeling and luckily, they had reached the restaurant which was less than a mile from her home. As smoothly as he had pulled the car out of her driveway, Carlo parallel parked it a few spots away from their destination.

  “You know it parks itself, right,” she said and motioned to a button on the dash.

  With a shrug, Carlo said, “Growing up in the Ironbound you had to know how to parallel park to survive. Don’t want to lose the skill.”

  Emma laughed and held her hands up in surrender. “Us suburban girls don’t do parallel park.”

  “And Jersey Girls don’t pump gas,” Carlo said with a chuckle and hurried out of the car.

  She opened the door and he rushed over to help her out of the SUV. A sharp breeze blew off the river inlet, sending a chill through her and Carlo tucked her against his side and shielded her from the wind with his body. They picked up their pace and speedily reached the entrance of the Victorian-style building where the restaurant was located.

  The restaurant had three stories and its location close to the mouth of the river gave it an unimpeded view of Sea Kiss Beach, the river inlet, and across the way, the piers and lights of the neighboring Jersey Shore towns to the south. On the ground floor a front porch wrapped around the entire building while the other stories had verandas that faced the beach and river. In warmer weather guests could sit and have drinks on the front porch or meals on the verandas.

  Even though it was off season, the restaurant was fairly full, but since Mac and Meghan were friends, the hostess immediately had a table ready for them. After checking their coats, they were guided to a spot on the third floor. From that height, the views were spectacular and thanks to a clear night, dozens of stars were visible against the inky dark sky.

  Fine linens and china graced the table. Crystal twinkled with the light cast from the votive candle in the table’s center. A tussie mussie of bright colored flowers and herbs sat not far from the candle.

  “This is lovely,” she said as Carlo held out the chair for her.

  He bent and whispered in her ear, “But not as lovely as you.”

  Heat raced across her cheeks and she hoped the intimate light would hide her telltale blush. “Thank you,” she said and took an inordinate time to open her napkin in the hopes of letting the color fade.

  The waiter arrived barely seconds later with the menus and quickly rattled off the specials.

  “May I get you something to drink while you decide?” he asked.

  “How about some wine?” Carlo asked and at her nod, he ordered a bottle of a vintage she recognized as being quite expensive.

  As the waiter hurried away to place the order, she lowered her menu and whispered, “You don’t need to impress me.”

  “But I want to impress you,” he teased and grinned, his dark eyes bright with humor and a wink.

  A wink? In all the times they’d been together, she’d never seen him wink. Ever.

  She circled her index finger around in the general direction of his eye and said, “What was that?”

  “This?” he said and winked again. “I thought it was pretty obvious what it was.”

  “A spasm? Maybe a twitch? Oh my god, are you having a stroke?” she teased.

  “Come on, Em,” he said just as the waiter came over with the wine. After showing Carlo the label, he expertly uncorked the bottle, poured a bit into a glass, and offered it up to Carlo, but Carlo gestured for the man to let Emma do the approving.

  “She’s the real expert,” Carlo said in explanation.

  With a nod, the waiter handed Emma the glass. She took it, swirled the wine around to check out the legs, and
then took a sip, inhaling air with it to bring out the full flavor of the wine. “Excellent,” she said and the waiter immediately poured her more and prepared a glass for Carlo.

  They placed their orders and after the waiter walked away, Carlo lifted his glass and said, “To our first date. May it be the first of many.”

  “Only if you promise not to wink again,” she said.

  Carlo stifled a chuckled. “I promise,” he said, but punctuated it with a playful wink.

  “You’re so bad,” she replied with a laugh and shake of her head.

  “You can’t even begin to guess how bad. Just ask mamãe,” he challenged.

  “No way. I can’t imagine you doing anything to upset your mom,” she said, but he proceeded to tell her a story about how Tomás, Paolo, and him had terrorized their mom one day with a collection of frogs.

  “She’s afraid of frogs? I never pictured your mom being afraid of anything,” she said.

  The waiter came over that moment with their appetizers. Emma had ordered a roasted beet and goat cheese salad over arugula. Glazed pecans were scattered across the surface along with a duo of crostini fragrant with garlic.

  Carlo had ordered lobster bisque, creamy and topped with a few pieces of lobster and the meat from one claw.

  “It all looks delicious and not at all like the frogs legs my mamãe fed us,” he said and picked up his spoon.

  “She fed you the frogs?” Emma asked, grimacing at the thought. They might be a delicacy to some, but all she could picture was unappetizing slimy green skin on a plate.

  “Well, she told us they were frog legs. Made us sit there and eat them.” With a shake of his head and a lopsided grin, he added, “Tasted like chicken because it was chicken. We didn’t know it at the time, so she got her revenge.”

  “Yes, she did,” Emma said with a laugh and wondered what it must have been like to raise three – no make that five – such active boys. But as Carlo told her a story about another adventure, she realized it was one more tale about just the three youngest brothers.