What a mistake she’d made, asking Jake to be her teacher. He’d reacted as if she’d asked him to teach her about dental hygiene. Had her response to him that night been so awful? He’d seemed to like what they were doing…
Oh, Lord.
Maybe she’d overreacted. Was that it? Had she been too…? What was the word? Responsive? Receptive? How was a woman supposed to behave, when a man—?
“Querida? Are you having fun?”
Lucas’s breath stirred her hair. Cat drew back in his arms and smiled brightly.
“Oh, I’m having a wonderful time!”
“I have the feeling Jake’s been keeping you locked up.”
“You’re right.”
“Well, he can’t do it anymore.” Lucas smiled. “Not now that I have the key.”
The music changed again, this time to something even slower and softer. Lucas locked his hands at the base of her spine as they turned in a little circle. The room was starting to circle, too.
Cat closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Lucas’s shoulder.
“Oooh,” she said breathlessly, “I’m dizzy.”
“You’re probably thirsty from all this dancing,” he said, his voice a little husky. He drew back, kept one arm tightly around her as he led her toward the bar. “Another caipirinha is what you need.”
“What she needs is a pot of coffee and some aspirin.”
Cat looked up. Jake was standing in front of them, his face dark as a thundercloud. It was so typical. The only thing he wanted to do was keep her from being happy.
“I don’t want coffee and aspirin,” she said defiantly. “I want another caipa—caipa—”
“No, you don’t. We’re going home.”
Home? So he could go to his room while she went to hers? So she could sit in the dark and wonder what he’d done with that woman tonight that he wouldn’t do with her?
“I don’t want to go home. I’m having fun.”
“She’s having fun,” Lucas said. “And I can see that you aren’t. Go home, Jake. I’ll take care of Catarina.”
“Yeah,” Jake said coldly, “I’ll bet you will.” He wrapped a hand around Catarina’s wrist. “She’s leaving, Estero, and so am I.”
“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,” Cat said angrily. “I am not leaving. Lucas doesn’t think I should go home yet. Isn’t that right, Lucas?”
“Lucas’s opinion doesn’t mean a damn,” Jake growled. “If I say you’re leaving, you’re leaving.”
“I am not!” Cat dug in her heels. “Lucas, tell this man he doesn’t run my life.”
“You heard the lady,” Lucas said, but Jake could hear the uncertainty in his voice.
“Did I ever get around to telling you why Cat’s in New York with me, Estero?” Jake’s smile glittered. He leaned in, as if he were about to share a great secret. “She’s husband-hunting.”
Cat’s breath hissed through her teeth. “Jake! This is not the time to—”
“The lady you’ve been teaching the tango can teach you a thing or two, pal. I mean, you’d never know she’s here to snare a husband, would you?”
“Jake!”
“The guy’s qualifications have to be only that he’s Brazilian, breathing and rich. Well, and single, of course. Right, Cat?”
Lucas had a funny look on his face. “Is this true?”
He spoke to Catarina, but it was Jake who answered.
“Absolutely true. And you, my man, are eminently qualified in all categories.”
Cat felt the sting of angry tears in her eyes. Why was Jake doing this to her? She’d been having fun for the first time in longer than she could remember. Lucas, the music, the delicious whatever-they-were-drinks sliding so easily down her throat…
She looked at Lucas. “It’s not the way he makes it sound. I wasn’t—I didn’t—”
“She asked if I was single,” Lucas said to Jake. He shuddered, like a spaniel coming in from the rain. “But she never said—”
“No,” Jake said, “I’m sure she didn’t.”
Cat swept her gaze from one man to the other. She hated them both, but Jake most of all. Hated him, hated him, hated—
“Time to say goodnight, Catarina.”
She jerked against his hand. He tightened his grip until she gasped.
“You son of a bitch!”
“Such language,” Jake said with an icy smile. “What would Mother Elisabete think?”
“Let go!” Cat demanded, banging her fist against his back as he dragged her to the door. “Damn you, Jake Ramirez!”
People laughed, stepped aside, let him pass through, hauling her in his wake. He paused beside the table he’d occupied, picked up her coat and his, then resumed his march through the club to the street.
The rain had turned to snow. Another time Catarina might have turned her face up to its cool bite. She’d never seen snow before, except in an old movie, but for now her rage was all-consuming.
Jake stopped, swung her toward him. “Put your coat on.”
“I don’t take orders from you!”
“Put the coat on,” he growled.
Rebelliousness glittered in her eyes. He cursed, drew the coat around her, snatched it before it could hit the pavement when she flung it off, and cursed again.
“If you get pneumonia and end up in my life for an extra few weeks, so help me I’ll—”
“You’ll what? You’re stuck with me, Ramirez, the same as I’m stuck with you.”
She was right, damn it, even if he didn’t want to hear it. And where the hell was Dario? He’d phoned his driver before he’d started across that snakepit of a dance floor—phoned him as soon as he saw what Lucas was up to.
Hell, he’d known what Lucas was up to sooner than that, but he’d figured, okay, this was Catarina’s show, she was the one on a husband-hunt. Let her do things her own way.
But there was only so much a man could take of watching such a piss-poor seduction.
Lucas, with that slippery smile. Lucas, pouring drinks that tasted harmless but had the kick of a mule down Cat’s throat. Lucas, supposedly teaching her to dance just so he could get her into his arms, his hands all over her, touching her, caressing her.
Lucas, just waiting for the chance to get Cat alone so he could undress her, feel the heat of her flesh against his, feather his thumbs across her nipples until she cried out.
Lucas had no right to do any of that because Cat belonged to—she belonged to—
“ Ramirez?”
Jake jerked his head around. His car was at the curb; Dario stood on the pavement next to the open passenger door, his face a polite blank, as if seeing his boss wrestling a woman into submission was an everyday occurrence.
Jake started toward the car. Cat didn’t.
“Walk,” he said grimly.
“I told you, I don’t take orders from—”
Her protest ended in a shriek as Jake picked her up, carried her to the car and unceremoniously dumped her inside. Then he got in beside her, folded his arms over his chest and shut his ears to the names she called him all the way home.
One good thing about having a penthouse high up in a fancy building on Fifth Avenue
.
You were guaranteed a terrific view, no matter what the season.
Even winter.
At twenty minutes past two in the morning, wearing a pair of old sweats, Jake stood on the terrace that wrapped around his apartment. A mug of coffee steamed between his hands; his breath was a plume of smoke in the cold air. The snow, mantling the park in pristine white, had stopped.
It was a beautiful sight. At least, he supposed it was.
He was still too angry, too upset, too everything to keep his mind on anything as mundane as the weather.
He’d made a load of mistakes tonight—starting with losing his temper when he’d come home and found Catarina getting ready to go out, and ending with a repeat performance when he’d realized Lucas was coming on to her.
Coming on
to her? Jake snorted. Lucas had been all over her, the miserable son of a bitch. And instead of taking him by his collar, hauling him outside and teaching him a lesson about how to treat a woman, a young and innocent woman, he’d let it all out on Cat.
He’d been wrong. Dead wrong. Taking her to that club, handing her over to Lucas, had been pretty much like putting a lamb in a cage with a hungry lion.
What in hell had he been thinking?
Jake took a sip of coffee.
He hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. Coming home, finding her all excited at the prospect of meeting a man, had ticked him off. What was her rush? He’d said he’d find her a husband, hadn’t he? Instead she’d decided to start the search on her own. And he’d thought, okay, she wanted to play in the big league? Let her see how far she could get without him to take care of her.
Pretty far, as it had turned out. Lucas had taken one look and wanted what he saw.
What man wouldn’t?
Trouble was, Cat didn’t know the first thing about handling an operator like Lucas. How could she? That was why she’d asked Jake for help.
Teach me, she’d pleaded. And he’d responded by ignoring her.
Jake finished his coffee, put the mug down and leaned on the railing again. He’d turned his back on her request and look what had happened. Okay, he didn’t want to teach her how to make love, but still he could have sat her down, talked to her. Explained the facts of life.
How men could smile and seem sincere. How they could seem friendly and harmless. How they could make her laugh. When all the time what they really wanted was to get her into bed.
Even tonight he’d behaved stupidly.
She’d wanted to dance? He could have danced with her instead of letting Lucas teach her how it felt to be in a man’s arms. He could have been the man who made her laugh.
He liked the way she laughed, the way she tossed her head so that her hair cascaded down her back.
And that night when she’d asked him to teach her about sex.
He could have said yes. Yes, I’ll teach you.
He could have taken her to bed, lost himself in her, made love to her until she sighed with pleasure and understood that the touch of a man’s hand…
Hell, no.
Until she understood that the touch of his hand, only his, could turn her wild, could make her whisper Jake, I want you. Jake, I need you. Jake…
“Jake?”
He swung around. Cat stood in the open doorway, but her soft whisper had nothing to do with passion. She was wrapped in a robe that looked as if she’d swiped it from a barn; her face was pale and shiny with sweat despite the cold.
“Cat?”
“Jake,” she moaned, “I’m going to be—”
He scooped her into his arms, carried her through the darkened rooms to the closest bathroom and got her there with no time to spare.
“It’s okay,” he said, holding her as she bent over the commode. “It’s okay, honey.”
She was violently ill, but he knew it was for the best. She’d feel better once her stomach had rid itself of the rum in the loathsome caipirinhas. When she was done, he gave her water to rinse her mouth, gently washed her face, then carried her up the stairs to her room and sat her on the edge of the bed.
She was shivering with cold. Gently, he slipped his hand under the collar of the heavy robe and touched her throat. She was soaked with sweat.
“Cat. You have to change your clothes.”
“I feel awful.” Her voice was so soft he could hardly hear her. “My stomach hurts. And my head. Oh, God, Jake, I want to die!”
“Let me help you change out of this wet stuff. Then I’ll bring you something that will make you feel better.”
“Promise?”
He had to smile. “Cross my heart.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, went to her closet and rummaged through it. He found a long flannel nightgown in one of the built-in drawers and brought it to her.
“Come on, honey. Stand up so I can get this robe off you.”
With his help, she wobbled to her feet. He undid the sash of the robe and wondered where in hell Belle had taken Cat shopping that she could have found something so ugly.
“…self,” Cat mumbled.
“What, sweetheart?”
“I said,” she told him as he eased the thing from her shoulders, “I know how horrible this robe looks, but I kept it ’cause—”
“Ah. I understand. You made it yourself.”
“Yes. And it always made me feel better when I was sick, or when I was unhappy.” She made a little sound that was more a sob than a laugh. “Silly, huh?”
Jake’s throat tightened. “Not silly at all,” he said, picturing her in that convent school, alone and desperate and wrapped in the next best thing to a horse blanket for comfort.
She swayed unsteadily as the robe fell away. He swept one arm around her; she sighed, leaned forward and slumped against him. She was wearing a flannel nightgown under the robe. The gown was damp. He could feel each soft curve of her body as she rested in his embrace.
“Honey.” He cleared his throat. “You need to get out of this gown and into a dry one.”
“’kay.”
He looked down at her. Some color had come back to her face but her eyes were closed.
“Shall I—shall I help you?”
“Umm.”
He took a deep breath. “Lift your arms, sweetheart. That’s my girl. A little higher. Good. Great.”
Great? The hell it was. He did the best he could, kept his eyes fixed on a point in space, but he had to glance at her to get the fresh gown over her head, to get her arms through the sleeves. And God, dear God, she was beautiful, so beautiful, so delicately boned and sweetly fleshed. But he didn’t feel passion or desire as he looked at his Cat.
He felt—he felt…
Jake swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said briskly. “Time to get into bed.”
Cat slumped down on the foot of the mattress. Jake lifted her in his arms, carried her to the side of the bed and drew back the covers. He started to lay her down, then thought better of it. The sheets and pillowcases were probably damp.
“Honey?”
“Hmm?”
“Can you stay awake long enough for me to change the linens?”
“Mmm.”
“All you have to do is sit here. I’ll come right back with fresh ones, and with that drink that’ll make you feel better.”
“Mmm.”
“Cat?”
“Mmm,” she whispered, and buried her face against his throat as she linked her heads behind his head.
Jake froze. She felt so right in his arms. So fragile. So vulnerable. He turned his face, touched his lips to her hair and closed his eyes.
“This is all my fault,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should never have abandoned you.”
She sighed again. One last soft brush of his mouth and then he’d put her down…Except she wouldn’t be able to sit here while he went to the linen closet for sheets, to his kitchen for ingredients for the concoction he recalled from his college days.
She could sleep in his bed.
He could sleep on the lounge in his dressing room.
She’d be warm and safe, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her getting up during the night and being sick again without him to take care of her.
He carried her down the long hall from her bedroom to his, sat her on the edge of his oversized bed, knelt before her and clasped her hands.
“Stay awake,” he said. “Okay? Just a couple of minutes more. Can you do that for me, Catarina?”
He hurried into the kitchen, put together the noxious drink that would cure her. By the time he got back she was slumped against the pillows.
“Not yet, Sleeping Beauty.” He sat beside her, put his arm around her shoulders, brought the cup of horror to her lips. “Drink.”
Cat swallowed. Her eyes flew open. “Ugh!”
�
�I know, honey, but it’ll make you feel better. I promise.”
She looked at him. Then she parted her lips and let him feed her the rest of the stuff. A muscle knotted in his jaw.
She trusted him. Only God knew why.
“Okay,” he said, when she shuddered. “All done. Now, lie back. That’s my girl. Get under the covers. Good. Just close your eyes—”
She whispered something. Jake bent closer.
“What?”
“I said, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
Again, that sudden tightness in his throat. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Catarina. I should never have left you alone with Lucas. Can you forgive me?”
Two tears snaked down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and turned away.
“It’s my fault. You told me not to go. I should have listened.”
“Cat.” Jake cupped her face. She was weeping quietly and it broke his heart. “I want you to get some sleep. Will you do that for me? We can talk about this in the morning.”
After a moment, she nodded. “All right.”
“Good girl.” He bent closer and kissed her forehead. “If you need me—”
“Don’t go.”
“I won’t go far. I’ll be right next door.”
She opened her eyes, looked at him and put her arms around his neck.
“Stay with me, Jake,” she said softly. “Please.”
“Cat. Honey—”
She was asleep. All he had to do was take her hands from his neck and fold them over the blanket.
Instead, Jake did what he’d wanted to do since they’d reached New York. He got under the covers and took her in his arms.
She sighed and burrowed against him, and he marveled at how right it felt to hold her exactly like this.
Locked together, hearts beating as one, they slept until just before dawn, when a whisper of sound woke Jake from sleep.
It was Cat, looking into his eyes and saying his name, saying it as he’d longed to hear it since he’d first kissed her.
“Jake,” she sighed, “Jake…”
“Cat,” he said huskily, and took her mouth with his.
CHAPTER TEN
MAYBE Jake’s kiss was part of her dream.
The images were already fading away, but Catarina remembered enough to know that she’d dreamed she was in Jake’s arms.
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