“The point is,” she said calmly, “those days are over.”
“The days you studied sewing?”
“Do you think this is a joke, Ramirez? I assure you, it isn’t. It’s deadly serious to me.”
Ramirez? Jake thought. Hadn’t he told her to call him Jake? Not that he gave a damn; what she called him was her business. And hell, no, this wasn’t a joke. This was a bad dream and he was only trying to make the best of it.
All he wanted was her cooperation and, okay, maybe he wasn’t encouraging it with this little session of give-and-take, but who was she kidding with this lady-of-the-manor routine? Was he supposed to be impressed?
The only thing that did impress him was the way she looked. Her hair, loose and wild, had seemed a disaster area last night. Now that she’d given up trying to tame it, it was…
Okay. Sexy was the wrong word. Pretty. Her hair was pretty. Yeah. That was lots better.
So were her eyes, snapping with anger. Her cheeks, flushed with color. That dress, that god-awful dress, was still ugly, still wrinkled, still the garment of a child—except now he knew it concealed the body of a woman. And what was he doing, thinking about that again?
She was a kid. An innocent. A virgin straight out of a convent school.
She was his ward. His defiant, furious, impossible ward, and, yes, all right, his gorgeous and sexy-as-hell ward, too. So what? None of that changed the fact that he was stuck with her.
No way was she going to make him out to be a monster.
“You’re right,” he said briskly. “This isn’t funny, and it isn’t a situation you can talk your way out of.” He moved past her, grabbed her satchel, then picked up his case. “We have a plane to catch.”
“No.”
“Look at it this way. The sooner we get to New York, the sooner we can get started on ending this relationship.”
“We can end it right now,” Catarina said quickly. “All you have to do is—”
“You’ve got that wrong. All you have to do is behave yourself.”
Catarina stared at Jake. His face was stony, his eyes cold. Whatever little game he’d been playing with her the past few minutes was over.
Panic coiled in her belly.
“Your move, kid. You gonna put on your shoes or you want to take this trip barefoot?”
“I told you, I am not a kid!”
“Fine. You’re Methuselah. Just get going.”
“I’ll make a scene at the airport!”
“I know you’re out of touch with the real world,” Jake said grimly, “but you pull a stunt like that I can almost guarantee you’ll end up in handcuffs.”
“Not after I tell the police everything. How you’re forcing me to leave the country. How you have no right to—”
Jake dropped her satchel and the suitcase. Catarina cried out as he caught her by the shoulders and lifted her to her toes.
“You don’t have any rights,” he said coldly, “unless I say so.”
She was staring at him as if he really was a monster, but he didn’t care. She didn’t want to go with him? Tough. He didn’t want her going with him. What she couldn’t seem to grasp was that what she wanted, what he wanted, didn’t matter.
He’d never believed in an afterlife, but he was sure as hell starting to change his mind. Why else would her parents and his son of a bitch of a father have put them into this situation if they weren’t sitting on a fluffy cloud, laughing themselves sick over what they’d accomplished?
And now, damn it, she was starting to cry. Big, perfect, tears were streaming down her cheeks. This time he wasn’t going to let them affect him.
“Stop that,” he said gruffly.
“How can you do this? I’m not a—a package you can transport and dispose of.”
“FedEx deals with packages,” he said, in a desperate attempt at humor. “We’ll be flying first class.”
She gave him exactly the sort of look a remark that pitiful deserved. Maybe it was time to try a different approach.
“Deal with what’s happened, Catarina, and move on.”
“Oh, that sounds so brave. Deal with it. Move on. Except you aren’t the one whose life is being turned upside down.”
Jake picked up the bags so one was under his arm. “It damned well is,” he said, grabbing her elbow, “and I’ve had it with this discussion.” He felt her start to pull away and slid his hand to her wrist. “The sooner you accept that we’re stuck with each other, the better.”
Her eyes met his. All the bluff was gone, the pride that had protected her from accepting her fate. She looked terrified.
And he felt like the biggest son of a bitch in the universe.
He told himself he didn’t have to do this. He could say to hell with Enrique, to hell with everything and walk away—or he could take this woman in his arms, rock her against him until her panic faded while he told her that everything would be okay.
Except it would be a lie.
Things weren’t going to be okay. Not for her, not for him. Not until they’d both finished dancing to the tune played by a trio of cosmic jokesters—and even then there’d be no guarantees.
“Did you hear me?” he said sharply. “No more tears. I’m tired of the routine.”
“I hate you,” she whispered.
“That’s a kid’s response.” He wanted to sound angry but he had the feeling he wasn’t quite pulling it off. Maybe it was because he could see the fight going out of her, see resignation dulling her lovely eyes.
“I hate you, hate you, hate—”
Catarina cried out as Jake dropped the bags again, hauled her to her toes, pulled her against him and crushed her mouth under his.
He kissed her unmercifully, with an adult passion he knew would only add to her terror. It was deliberate. Let her see what it meant to be a woman instead of a child…
And then he stopped thinking.
He felt the shudder that ran through her, heard her smothered cry, tasted the salt of her tears and he groaned, slid his hands into her hair and kissed her as if this were not just her first kiss but his.
He kissed her tenderly. Softly. Kissed her and kissed her until her trembling stopped, until her lips softened. Until she sighed and opened her mouth to his and he tasted her sweetness.
Her innocence.
Let go of her, he told himself. Damn it, Ramirez, let go.
But he didn’t. Instead he drew her closer. Catarina raised her arms, wrapped them around his neck, leaned into him and whispered something against his mouth, something his brain couldn’t understand but his body—God, his body understood it completely.
Jake forgot her innocence.
Forgot everything but the feel of her in his arms.
“Cat,” he murmured. “Cat.” And he ran his hands down her back, cupped her buttocks, lifted her to him, moved against her, let her feel how much he wanted her, how powerful his desire was, and…
And what in hell was he doing?
He jerked back. Let go of Catarina. Stared down at her face, still raised to his, saw her parted lips, the pulse beating in her throat, the dark curve of her lashes against her cheeks.
Then she opened her eyes and he knew that her stunned expression would haunt him long after fate finally let them go their separate ways.
“You see?” he said calmly, as if his ears weren’t filled with the thundering beat of his own heart. “You’re a child after all.”
He opened the door, picked up the luggage once more and stepped into the corridor. He didn’t look back. He didn’t have to. The kiss had changed the rules of the game. If her stubborn pride had been important to Catarina before, it had to be the only thing she could cling to now.
He was counting on it to make her follow him.
Damned if he wasn’t right.
CHAPTER SIX
GETTING tough worked.
Or maybe it was the kiss.
That was why he’d kissed her, after all. Why he’d turned the kiss into something
she’d remember. Just to rattle Catarina’s cage. Make her see he was serious.
There wasn’t any other reason.
When the elevator doors opened on the lobby, Jake headed straight for the exit. No backward glances, no clamping his hand around Cat’s wrist and hauling her alongside him.
He acted as if he were sure she’d follow him.
The truth was, he was sure of absolutely nothing.
Would she bolt and run? Would she start screaming? Would he end up explaining how he’d gotten into this mess to the local cops as well as to the guys in white coats?
The prospect was not appealing. Explaining that a full-grown woman was, in all ways that mattered, his legal ward wasn’t something he looked forward to, but if he had to do it he would.
The skin on the back of his neck prickled as he strode out the door. Was she still following him? Yeah. She was. He stopped short as the parking valet trotted over. Catarina barreled into him. Jake took advantage of the moment to slip an arm around her shoulders and draw her forward.
No sense in pushing his luck out here on the street.
The valet wasn’t the one who’d parked Jake’s rental car the prior night, but judging by the look the boy gave them word about the North American and his crazy niece must have spread. 76
“Bom dia, senhor.”
Jake smiled pleasantly. “Good morning. My car is the black—”
“Sim. I know. Um momento, por favor.”
Oh, yeah. The word had definitely spread. The kid trotted off and Jake bent his head and put his lips to Catarina’s ear.
“Very good,” he said quietly. “Just keep it up and we’ll get along fine.”
She jerked back and glared at him. “That’s probably what the bandeirantes told the Indians.”
The words might have been formed in ice. Jake didn’t delude himself into thinking he’d just been given a compliment.
“Raiders,” she said venomously. “Portuguese barbarians who stormed the interior of Brazil and forced the natives into slavery.”
“And that’s me?” He nodded. “Nice. Really nice.”
“Accurate, you mean.”
“I don’t suppose it would do any good to point out that I’m not Portuguese and you’re not Indian.”
“The principle’s the same.” She gave him a smile that matched her tone. “I notice you didn’t try and argue about what they did.”
“I don’t know what they did,” he said politely, “aside from what you’ve told me. I believe your point is that I have a lot in common with a bunch of stormtroopers.”
“Exactly. And I’d appreciate it if you’d take your hands off me.”
Jake sighed. Yesterday had seemed endless, and if he’d had an hour of solid sleep last night it was a lot. He couldn’t let Catarina bait him. He was liable to end up slinging her over his shoulder and carrying her onto the plane—or taking her in his arms and kissing her until she turned soft and sweet and clinging again.
He knew damned well that neither method was a very good idea.
The valet roared up in the car, stopped on a dime and bounded out from behind the wheel. Jake handed him a couple of bills. The kid dumped the two bags in the back, hurried around to the passenger side and yanked open the door.
Jake slid his hand to Catarina’s wrist and marched her around the vehicle.
“You seem to be a smart girl,” he said softly. “So here’s what I’d appreciate. You get in the car, behave yourself, keep your mouth shut until we land in New York. Then we can have a long talk about raiders, stormtroopers and Indians. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds as if I have no choice in the matter.”
“A brilliant conclusion.”
“Just understand that my acquiescence is based on expediency, not obedience.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “I’ll bet you got straight As in English.”
“I got straight As in everything,” she said smugly. “Would you like to know what the words mean?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I can manage. You want me to know that you’re going along with this because I’m bigger, stronger and nastier than you are. Right?”
Color flooded her face. “It’s not that simple.”
“I think it is.”
“You’re an awful man, Ramirez.”
“‘You’re an awful man, Jake,”’ he said. “Now, get in the damned car.”
“There’s no need for obscenities.”
“You think that’s an obscenity?” he said through his teeth. “Trust me, Catarina. You haven’t heard anything yet. Now, move!”
She gave him a look that Medusa might have used to turn men to stone. Except she didn’t look like Medusa this morning; she looked more like a woman trying not to show the depth of her terror.
Jake sighed.
“Catarina.” He hesitated. “I know this isn’t easy.”
“Your brilliance astounds me.”
Not even her sarcasm could hide what he saw in her eyes.
“I just want you to know that I’ll try my best to do the right thing for you.”
Her mouth trembled. “Will you?”
He nodded. “You behave yourself and I’ll—I’ll make this whole thing as painless as possible. Deal?”
She stared at his outstretched hand as if it might transmit bubonic plague. Just when he thought he’d been a fool to offer a flag of truce, she put her hand in his.
For all her bravado, her skin was icy.
“Deal,” she said, and Jake wondered, if only for a minute, what she’d do if he changed their handshake into a kiss.
The flight to New York seemed interminable.
Catarina didn’t mind. It gave her time to think.
Did Jake mean what he said about doing the right thing? She’d seen a sudden compassion in his eyes when he’d spoken.
Maybe he wouldn’t marry her off.
No. He would. But he’d try and find a decent man for her. That would be his version of “the right thing.”
That meant her version of “the right thing” had to be learning all she could about men.
And sex.
Jake didn’t know it—wouldn’t know it—but she’d decided to go along with things. She really didn’t have a choice. Her guardian wasn’t going to give an inch, and escape, she had to admit, wasn’t a possibility.
Catarina shot Jake a quick look. He was sitting beside her, seat tilted, long legs outstretched. His head was back, his eyes closed, his hands loosely folded in his lap. He looked like a big, lazy cat—except she knew that was deceptive. The same as a cat, he could spring in a heartbeat.
Catarina turned her face to the window. He was right. She had to move on. Make the best of what had happened.
And that kiss had given her an idea.
She knew Jake had kissed her to show her that she was defenseless against him. That he was strong and she was weak, that he was male and she was female, and that she didn’t know the first thing about how such relationships worked.
He was right on all counts, especially the last.
She didn’t know the first thing about the intricate dance between men and women—not even after hushed late-night conversations in the dorm when one of the girls had returned from a weekend at home.
The topic was almost always sex.
He did what? she or one of the others would say in horror. And you let him?
Why would a woman let a man do…? Well, why would she?
That kiss had provided some vague idea. Once she’d let herself sink into the moment, let Jake’s lips shape hers, his body heat hers, she’d had an inkling of why the girl telling the story would laugh and say, yes, of course she’d let the boy do this and that and the other thing.
Sex was incredibly powerful.
It was pathetic to first learn such a lesson when you were twenty-one, but at least she’d learned it before her guardian married her off. Marriage was no place for on-the-job training—especially since the odds wer
e excellent that her husband would be the suitable Brazilian as demanded by the terms of her parents’ will.
Jake would find her a rich man who’d take over the handling of both her money and her life. He’d expect her to know her place. Almost without question, he’d be older.
And he’d want to do things to her in bed.
She couldn’t go into such a marriage blind. Until yesterday she’d known nothing about men. Literally nothing. She knew a little now, all of it picked up in—Catarina frowned and checked her watch—in the past twenty-four hours.
She had Jake to thank.
Because of him she knew that that men had tempers. That they were intractable. That they’d agree to do outlandish things as long as they could convince themselves they did them to live up to some sacred code of honor.
Catarina ran the tip of her tongue across her lips.
She knew, as well, that the thing she knew the least about—the physical thing, sex—was more complex than she’d anticipated.
Just look at those wild ideas she’d had last night, when she was in bed with Jake. She’d shocked herself. No. Wrong. She’d frightened herself. The same as he had frightened her when he’d kissed her this morning.
That was what sex was all about. Power.
It was, wasn’t it?
Then how come her bones had all but turned liquid when she’d imagined him making love to her? How come even when he’d been kissing her, when his kiss had been harsh and demanding to show her he could control her, she’d liked it?
She drew a shaky breath.
Even then she’d liked it.
In a heartbeat she’d gone from feeling small and helpless to delicate and eager. Jake’s size, the way he’d held her so she couldn’t escape him, the way he’d tilted her head back as if to emphasize the difference between his strength and her fragility, had stirred her.
And then, just when she’d been about to sigh and let herself feel what he was doing instead of analyzing it, he’d taken the kiss one hundred and eighty degrees, softened the pressure of his mouth, eased his touch, and she’d gone into meltdown.
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