by Linda Engman
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 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 carry-on 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 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 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.
“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.
Chapter Thirteen
Outside the loft, snow continued to fall upon New York City and up the Eas
t 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 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 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 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 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 as they pleased durin
g 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?”
“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?”