by Alexia Adams
Maya was the next to excuse herself, saying her bladder was being used as a bouncy castle. Vivi departed as well, so it was just the three men and the last dregs of their dinner wine.
Tiago cleared his throat. “You’ll regret it if you let her get away, Eduardo.”
Except his friend didn’t know she’d already gotten away once. And how hard Eduardo had regretted that. Could he sacrifice what it would take to keep Anna in his life permanently? He wouldn’t be the only one to pay the price. Tiago had offered him the partnership so he could spend more time with Vivi and Miranda. If Eduardo left to follow Anna around the world…
Jacques shifted awkwardly and added, “I never knew I could wake up each day happier than the one before.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Eduardo said.
Tiago grabbed the wine bottle like a lifeline. “Who wants a top-up before we go out and join the others?” Through the open door they could hear the excited chatter of the children already on the terrace and Raul’s deep voice telling them to be careful.
Eduardo declined the drink. He’d need all his self-control to make it through the concert. And then to make a rational decision afterward about how far to take things with Anna.
When they stepped out onto the terrace, he did a double take. While they’d eaten dinner, someone had strung fairy lights into the potted palms and formed a makeshift stage covered with a patterned carpet. Candles set up everywhere flickered in the gentle breeze. The patio furniture had been relocated to form a semicircle around the stage. Behind that, more chairs from various parts of the house were arranged.
“Anna said she didn’t mind if the staff listened in,” Tiago said.
Great, now the world would know the convoluted state of their personal relationship.
Everyone was there except Anna. They didn’t have to wait long, however, as she soon appeared from behind the drawn curtains that formed the background for the stage.
He hoped he wasn’t the only one to gasp at her appearance. But his heart beat too loudly to hear the others. She wore a pale blue off-the-shoulder gown. The skirt was layers and layers of filmy material. But when she stepped forward, her leg showed almost to the top of her thigh. Her hair, which she normally wore up, curled lightly and floated about her face and down her back and shoulders. Whatever she’d done to her makeup made her look like she’d been thoroughly ravished and was just waiting for her lover to recover so they could go at it again.
Angel had gone sexy.
She perched herself on the stool set up in the middle of the stage and arranged the dress so she was covered demurely. Her old, battered guitar was incongruous with the rest of her ensemble.
“Anna, before you start,” Maya said, “do you mind if I record the children dancing? I’d like to send the video to Max’s mother.”
“That’s fine. As long as it goes no further than that. Please ask her not to share. My record label will have a fit if a new song, even one about cars, leaks before release.”
A laptop had been set up on a chair beside her, and she pressed a few keys. A quirky background beat filled the air. She nodded to the children. They took up their positions as they had for the rehearsal earlier in the day. Except this time as Anna sang about the cars, Miranda twirled and the boys pretended to be driving around, fake steering wildly to avoid each other and Miranda.
All the adults wore huge smiles. Vivi and Maya had happy tears streaming down their faces. Jacques took the phone from his wife’s hand to finish the recording while he put a loving arm around her shoulders. Even Raul seemed to be sniffling suspiciously.
After the second song, Anna called a little intermission. Max climbed onto his soon-to-be uncle’s lap. Timo made his way to his father, who picked him up and hugged him close, pressing dozens of kisses on the smiling child’s face. Anna handed Miranda a length of white diaphanous material.
“These next two songs I wrote shortly before my husband died. But don’t worry, they’re not as morbid as that sounds.”
Eduardo steeled himself to hear her sing of her love for another man. His throat tightened as she sang of thankfulness for the time they’d shared and admiration for a life well lived. But instead of the jealousy he expected, he was filled with a sense of amazement that she’d found meaning and peace during a turbulent time in her life.
During the song, Miranda fluttered around the stage, using the fabric Anna had given her at times like a sail, at times like a blanket.
“You look just like your mother when you dance, preciosa,” Tiago said when she sat down in his lap after the second song ended.
Anna shifted on the stool, letting her dress fall to the side, revealing one long leg. She adjusted her hair so it cascaded down one side. One curl slipped into her cleavage. Eduardo wriggled in his seat, trying to find a comfortable spot while his hands clenched the armrests.
She began the next song without the guitar. He’d heard ‘Memory Palace’ before, but it was just as devastating the second time, further eroding the walls he’d built around his heart to keep him from being vulnerable to anyone again.
“I’m seeing you in an entirely different light now,” Tiago whispered as Anna prepared for the next song. Vivi jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow before he could say anything else.
“My next song is called ‘Hurricane Heart.’”
She stood, put down the guitar, and just sang. No instrument masked the power and beauty of her voice. Each note pulled another drop of emotion from those listening.
As I leave, I look back over my shoulder
At what I’ve left behind
Not a single thing is standing
Devastation is all I find
My heart is like a hurricane
Leaving destruction in its wake
I never meant to hurt you
Or make your whole soul ache
I blew in a springtime zephyr
I left a category seven
Your love, you know, it strengthened me
It gave me a glimpse of heaven
The injuries you sustained
They’re really not that rare
I burn all bridges after me
To anyone brave enough to care
My heart is like a hurricane
Leaving destruction in its wake
I never meant to hurt you
Or make your whole soul ache
Your eyes they once shone with love
Your smile would make my day
Then my hurricane heart took over
Now all that’s left is dead and gray
Our love it once blossomed
Tended carefully by you
Now that field, it has been napalmed
The ashes soaked with dew
My heart is like a hurricane
Leaving destruction in its wake
I never meant to hurt you
Or make your whole soul ache
Never love a hurricane
It’s really not that wise
Destruction is our calling card
Leaving a tear that never dries
When the echo of the last note faded into the night, everyone sat stunned.
“Dios mío,” one of the housekeepers said in a reverential whisper. It broke the spell Anna’s amazing voice cast, and the applause was almost as long as the last song.
She accepted it with good grace, although he could see that she’d reverted to her alter ego. Angel had taken over once again.
Tiago glanced over at Eduardo then announced, “Right, the show’s over.”
Everyone stood; the staff grabbed their chairs and disappeared. Jacques had a sleepy Max on one shoulder while he led a sobbing Maya away with an arm around her waist. “Damn pregnancy hormones,” she said as she wiped at her cheeks.
Tiago hoisted up Miranda and held Vivi’s hand as they too went inside.
Eduardo was rooted to the spot. He was trapped by his promise to his father to always be his own man and his commitments to Tiago and Raul.
Anna had to be free to do what she loved.
All he had left to give her was … pleasure.
Chapter Eleven
Anna picked up the length of fabric Miranda had dropped to give herself a moment. Eduardo hadn’t moved when everyone else left. A few of the candles had gutted out during her performance, and she snuffed out a couple on the way over to him.
“Well?” she asked when he finally met her gaze.
“You can never stop singing,” he said, his voice husky. “The world needs Angel.”
Not what she’d wanted to hear. “What do you need?” She cupped his cheek with one hand while the other rested over his heart. It beat strong and steady beneath her fingers.
Her own pulse raced, partly due to the adrenaline that always carried her through a set.
But mostly because the moment was upon them.
He’d promised her heaven.
And she was here to collect.
Eduardo pulled in a deep breath. “I need you.”
Right answer.
“Shall we take this upstairs?” she asked.
“Anna, are you sure this is what you want? We may have feelings for each other and an attraction that’s never died. But we’re different people now. We can’t go back and undo what was done.”
“It’s not the past I want to undo.”
“We don’t have a future either. You can’t stay. I see the energy, the joy you get from performing. It’s not just Angel—it’s who you really are. Who you’ve always been. Angel is just packaging. Anna is the real star. If you try to give that up, you’ll miss it like my mother regretted giving up her glamorous modeling life. But I can’t follow you, either. I’ve made promises to Tiago and Raul. I’ve made promises to myself. I’ve made plans for my future. As much as I still care for you, I have to be true to who I am as a man.”
She stepped back to look him in the eyes without straining her neck.
“After my first two weeks in LA, I wanted to come back to you. Everyone—my mother, my agent, my voice coach, my stylist—told me that our love wouldn’t last. Everyone said we were too young, that we’d change, grow apart, fall out of love. Everyone said if I didn’t take the opportunity before me, if I didn’t do what they—the experts—said, I’d live to regret it. Know what? I regret listening to everyone. Dios, Eduardo, each day I regret not waking up next to you. Please, I’m just asking for one day without regret. I know we can’t go back. But can’t we at least end it differently this time?”
Her eyes searched his, unable to read the conflicting emotions displayed there.
Without a word, he swept her up in his arms and stopped only when they reached his bedroom door. “Promise me one thing?” he said as he set her on her feet in the hallway.
“What’s that?”
“Promise that if it’s not good the first time, because you overwhelm my senses, you won’t sing about it to the world?”
“I promise.” She turned the handle and, with a tug on his tie, pulled him into the room with her.
Now that she was here, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. Yes, she’d seen movies, read books, overheard play-by-play recaps by some of her dancers who were lovers. But she’d never actually worked out the logistics of this seduction in her mind. She’d always assumed that Eduardo would take the lead and she’d ride the bliss train to orgasmville.
He stood there, his arms at his sides, a sultry smile on his lips. Damn the man. This was his way of making sure he didn’t manipulate her into anything she didn’t want. Well, news flash: she wanted him. Where were her performance lessons when she really needed them? Should she take off her dress? Wait for him to remove it? Should she start on his clothes? Because she was damn sure all the awkwardness would disappear if he were naked.
A kiss. That seemed the easiest approach. She slid her hands up his rock-hard chest, divesting him of his dinner jacket, then pulled his head down to meet her upturned lips.
She traced his mouth with her tongue, playfully nibbled on his full lower lip. He responded, but not with the passion she knew he was capable of. Was she doing it wrong? Could sex be done wrong?
Unbuttoning his shirt seemed to be the next step after she loosened his tie, so she worked on that while she trailed kisses along his jaw to his ear. He hauled in a deep breath as she sucked his earlobe into her mouth. His hands tightened on her hips, but still he didn’t move.
“A little help here? I’m doing all the work,” she said as she slipped his shirt off his shoulders. It caught at his wrists because she’d neglected to unbutton the cuffs.
“I’m trying to marshal my self-control,” he said, his voice gruff. “I don’t want to go all caveman on you. But right this second, all I can think to do is rip that glorious dress from your body and devour every inch of you.”
Her skin heated. “A little caveman would be okay. I’ll let you know if it gets too rough.”
But rather than rip the dress off her, he slid the zipper down inch by exasperating inch, his finger tracing its progress all the way. When it pooled at her feet, he stepped back to admire his handiwork.
“Bra. Off.”
She complied without thinking. She went to slip off her silver-heeled sandals, but he stopped her with a shake of his head.
“Leave the shoes on.”
“And the panties?” She pulled the lacy fabric away from her hip and his eyes blazed.
“They can stay as well. For now.”
Her nipples pebbled under his gaze as he undid his cuffs and tossed his shirt and tie on top of her abandoned dress. Finally, finally, he reached out and caressed her skin. One finger traced the line of her collarbone then dipped between her breasts to tour her navel before making a return journey up.
His other hand joined the party, and both thumbs and forefingers tugged on her taut nipples. A low moan escaped her lips.
“That’s it, querida. Tell me what you like, what you want.”
“More. Your mouth.”
“Here?” he asked as he kissed her shoulder. He lifted her hand to his lips. “Maybe here, on your wrist?”
“Yes, my wrist. That’s where I’ve always wanted to be kissed by you.” Dios. The man was maddening.
He circled his tongue around the prominent bone on her wrist, and her knees weakened. Was that one of those unknown erogenous zones, or was he just that good? While his mouth was busy there, however, his other hand went exploring.
“Move your legs apart,” he whispered while kissing his way up her arm. His mouth was level with her breast; she twisted to connect it with his cheek. A soft chuckle whooshed air over her sensitive skin. But he took the hint and pulled her breast into his mouth with a deep suck while his tongue flicked her nipple.
At the same time, his fingers traced the line of her underwear between her legs. She should have taken them off when she had the chance. Because all her hands were good for was clutching his shoulders to keep upright.
He edged her backward until her spine came up against the post of his bed. “Hold on,” he said, guiding her hands to the carved wood above her head. She dug her nails into the timber as he lapped first at one breast then the other. One finger continued to torture her between her legs while he molded and plucked with the other hand at the breast that wasn’t currently being flicked into a frenzy of sensation by his tongue and lips.
Liquid fire flowed through her veins, threatening to melt her knees and bring her to the ground.
“How come you still have most of your clothes on?” she asked when she could draw enough breath into her lungs to talk.
“Because this time it’s all about you.”
Whatever reply she thought to make evaporated from her brain as his finger slipped beneath the fabric and found her nub of pleasure. She clutched the post as wave after wave of ecstasy buffeted her body. When her legs gave way, he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her against him, which really did nothing to help her come down from the sexual high.
“Good?” he asked with a lau
gh, his lips against her ear.
She forced playfulness into her tone. “Ya know, it was okay. But I’m still missing something.” She tried to wedge a hand between them to grasp his manhood, but he caught her questing hand and held it behind her back. “I ache, Eduardo. I want you inside me. What are you going to do about it?”
“Give you a shower.” He tossed her over his shoulder, pulling her shoes and panties off as he strode into the adjoining bathroom. “Is this caveman enough for you?”
“There is a perfectly good bed in the other room.”
“Ah, but I want to see you wet and soapy. I’ve had fantasies for days, Anna. All featuring you naked.”
He set her on her feet, and she put her hair up with the few pins in it. He flicked on the water and she walked into the glass-walled shower, standing back until the water warmed a bit. The hot water felt good, but not as good as Eduardo’s hands.
“Aren’t you joining me?” He leaned against the sink, still wearing his pants. Hell, even his buckle was done up.
“Not yet. Leave the door open. Wash yourself.”
“It would be more pleasurable if you washed me.”
“I’ll dry you off.” With that promise, she put on a show of lathering herself with body wash then rinsing it off. She had to admit, being watched was a definite titillation. The sharp, citrusy scent of the soap was in stark contrast to the languid heat that flowed through her veins.
She stepped from the shower to his arms spread wide with a waiting towel. Although it was soft, he dragged the towel over her skin in brisk, efficient movements, so she was pink from head to toe when he was done. Every nerve ending wanted to riot, or at least issue its own complaint, over the indelicate handling.
She glanced at his face. The steely features were impossible to read. She’d expected to see this side of his personality in the courtroom, not the bed or bathroom.