One-Click Buy: September 2010 Silhouette Desire

by Brenda Jackson

“Sara?” he prompted, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Yes…yes, that sounds lovely,” she finally spoke. At least she would have the day to herself. Time enough, hopefully, to shore up her defenses against her forbidden attraction to him. “Um, should I wear anything special?”

  “Good question,” he answered. “We might go out for a drink along the harborside, first, so something a bit dressy, perhaps. What about what you wore the night I proposed? You always look beautiful in that. Until this afternoon, then. Hasta luego.”

  Even after he’d hung up, Rina still stood there holding the phone to her ear. Her fingers clenched around the old black plastic, which creaked in protest at her white-knuckled grip. The dress she wore the night he proposed—the dress Sara wore, that is. What on earth was she to do? She had no idea which one it was and, without any contact from Sara, no way of finding out, either.

  Numbly, she replaced the phone in its cradle and walked back to the bedroom to throw open the wardrobe doors. Given its rather frugal size, and the number of clothes Sara had kept here, it shouldn’t be impossible to narrow it down—but what if her twin had taken the dress with her?

  Rina slumped onto the edge of the bed and stared unseeingly at the contents of her sister’s closet. Her eyes began to burn with unexpected tears. Suddenly this stupid charade was all too much. She loved her sister with an affection that transcended most sibling boundaries—would give her life for Sara’s if necessary—but continuing to masquerade as her twin this time around was taking a toll she’d never anticipated.

  Maybe she should come clean. Tell Reynard the truth about what had happened. Let him know that Sara was suffering cold feet and that she’d asked Rina to stand in for her—after all, he deserved the truth. As one who’d been lied to and cheated on, she knew with personal understanding how cruel that type of behavior was.

  But Sara had her reasons for wanting to perpetuate this falsehood. Reasons she hadn’t seen fit to disclose yet to Rina. And blood was thicker than water. Rina had never had any cause to doubt her sister’s choices before—had never been in open conflict with her, ever. Regardless of her original intention to stop this charade in its tracks, Sara needed her to do this for her and do it she must, whatever the price, because, if their situation had been reversed, Rina had no doubt Sara would step in for her.

  She got up off the bed and fingered the clothes hanging neatly in the closet, wondering which dress it was that Sara had worn when she’d accepted Rey’s proposal—or if it was even in here at all. She shook her head. She was being silly. She didn’t have to worry. It would be a simple matter to say the dress was at the cleaners or that she’d spilled makeup on it or something like that.

  She could do this. For Sara she could do anything. She just had to remind herself of the mini-adventures they’d conducted when they were younger, standing in for one another. Though, this felt entirely different. This time, for the first time, she wanted what her sister had with a longing she had never experienced with such intensity. Walking away from Reynard after this, and leaving him to Sara, was going to be the toughest thing she’d had to do, ever.

  Rina spied her suitcase shoved in the bottom of the wardrobe and knew exactly what she’d wear tonight. The dress she’d bought once she’d made her mind up to come here to lick her metaphorical wounds, supported by her sister’s tender love and care, was an aberration to her usual style. If anything, it was far more like something her party-mad sister would have chosen for herself.

  Shorter than the type of dress she’d worn since she’d started going out with Jacob, the dark periwinkle blue fabric skimmed her thighs with flirty layers of hand painted chiffon and the softly draping cowl neck dropped from tiny spaghetti straps to give a hint of the swell of her breasts.

  She’d even bought a special strapless bra to wear with it, and in a fit of extravagance, matching G-string panties. The second she’d tried on the dress in the store, she’d known it was perfect for her. She’d instantly felt empowered again, feminine and strong. Certainly not like a woman whose fiancé had only thought to let her know he’d be marrying someone else a week out from their proposed wedding date.

  Yes, she might be pretending to be someone else, but she’d be doing it in her own clothes and wearing her own silver-strapped high-heeled sandals at the same time. And she’d do it with all the flair she could muster. Even as she made the decision to be herself, she felt conflicted. In the past, pretending to be her sister had been all about exactly that—being Sara. Was she treading too fine a line now?

  Seven

  By the time four o’clock rolled around, Rina was just about climbing the walls with frustration. The day had stretched out for what felt like forever and, with the cottage being as isolated as it was, there was little she could do to fill her time.

  In the end, she’d taken out her frustration on the weeds along the front wall and in the gardens that bordered the front of the house—moving a sun umbrella along with her as she worked. At least she could see she’d been effective at something through the course of the day. The dry soil had made pulling weeds easy, though, and the job hadn’t taken as long as she’d expected. Not even a long pampering session in the cottage’s bathroom had filled enough hours before she could begin to expect Rey’s arrival.

  As the hands on the mantel clock had wound their way slowly between four and five o’clock, Rina found herself straining her ears to listen for the sound of Rey’s car approaching. She smoothed the skirt of her dress for what was probably the twentieth time and checked the mantel clock again.

  Finally, as the clock delicately chimed the quarter hour, she heard the muted roar of Rey’s car as it pulled up outside the cottage. She grabbed her silver clutch bag and secured the cottage’s front door before meeting him on the path at the front.

  “You’ve been busy today,” Rey commented, looking at the evidence of her work in the gardens.

  Rina shrugged. “I had to do something or I’d have gone mad. I’m not used to doing nothing.”

  “I thought that was the purpose of a holiday? Especially one on a Mediterranean island,” he said with a quirk of one brow.

  Inwardly, she cringed. Sara would never have worked in the garden. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t prepared to work hard at the things that interested her, especially her horses, but gardens? She’d made a terrible faux pas in finding a relief for her boredom today.

  Hoping like mad that she could carry it off, she gave Rey a bright smile and waved a hand in the general direction of the garden. “Well, you know me. Once I get my mind fixed on something I won’t let up.”

  Rey gave a short laugh. “Isn’t that the truth,” he agreed. “Come here and let me see you properly. I haven’t seen you wear that color before. It really suits you. Especially with the color you’ve caught in your skin today.”

  He took one of her hands in his and gave her a gentle twirl—not an easy feat in her high heels on the cobbled path.

  “There was a stain on my other outfit, so I improvised,” Rina said, averting her eyes and hoping a telltale flush wouldn’t blotch her chest and neck at the lie.

  “I’m glad,” he said giving her a longer, more appreciative look that sent a sizzle of awareness straight through her. “I like this better. The color—” he paused a moment “—is more you.”

  Rina felt a trickle of unease creep along her spine. His ever so slight emphasis on the word “you” made her wonder if she’d taken too much of a risk in choosing to wear something that so completely reflected her real personality. Not something that Jacob would have approved of, not something that Sara, in her flamboyance, would have chosen—something that was unmistakably her. But then Rey tugged her hand and pulled her along the path to the car waiting outside the gate and settled her into the passenger seat.

  She was being fanciful, she rationalized. Her own guilt at taking advantage of him, and his relationship with her sister, was making her see things in statements that were simply not there at all.


  Rina cast a sideways glance at him as he dropped into his seat and put on his seat belt. He was wearing sharply creased black trousers that tautened across his thighs as he eased the car into gear. Beneath the finely woven fabric she could almost make out the delineation of his quad muscles, their lean strength a fluid movement beneath the material. In normal circumstances, as his real fiancée, she’d have the palm of her hand resting just there—be feeling the flex and release of those muscles as he changed gears on the high performance engine.

  Her palm tingled just thinking about it, and she forced herself to turn her head away and stare out the side window at the scenery as they passed by. Sara would kill her. It wasn’t part of the plan that she should be so powerfully attracted to him. It made no logical sense at all. He wasn’t her type. He was too…too everything.

  She tried to pull a picture of Jacob into her mind, to overprint the finely boned features of Rey’s face and his fascinating hazel eyes with Jacob’s fairer skin, broader forehead and pale blue eyes. It had only been three weeks since they’d shared that last meal together, since they’d ended their plans to marry on such a painfully civilized note.

  Rina couldn’t imagine Rey being quite so civilized if the situation had been his. There’d be fire in his eyes, rather than relief that she hadn’t made a scene. There’d be challenge—demand. He wouldn’t have made their five year relationship sound like a board meeting when encapsulating the reasons why he’d found it necessary to have a last minute fling. A fling that had rapidly turned into something more. A fling that had signaled the end of the plans they’d so painstakingly made together.

  No, Reynard del Castillo was a different kettle of fish altogether. Rina risked another glance in his direction, and a warm flush of something she didn’t want to name pulsed through her as he met her gaze and gave her a half smile before giving his attention back to the road.

  For the first time in days she realized that thinking about Jacob didn’t hurt anymore and that, despite her initial shock and pain, he’d done the right thing in ending their engagement. Of course, his method and timing still left a great deal to be desired, but could she honestly tell herself that a single glance from him had ever—in all the time they’d been together—had the power to elicit a reaction like the one still thrumming through her from Rey’s smile? She’d be lying if she said yes.

  Which left her in a very precarious position. Clearly, Sara’s engagement to Reynard had been a fresh new thing for them both. Rina knew full well how alluring Sara could be; she’d watched her in action often enough. But Sara and Rey hadn’t even slept together, for goodness’ sake. Who got engaged on what had apparently been such a platonic relationship to date? Was Sara playing hard to get? Was that what had coaxed the proposal from Rey all along? And if she was having second thoughts, why on earth had she simply not said so to him, rather than indulge in this subterfuge?

  Something just didn’t ring true, but until Sara divulged more details, there really was nothing she could do but continue the pretense—no matter the travesty it made of her own feelings.

  “You’re very quiet today. Everything all right?” Rey’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  “Just thinking, really. Nothing important.”

  “We will be at the waterfront soon. We’ll leave the car at my apartment building and we can walk there for a predinner drink.”

  “That sounds lovely. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “As am I.”

  He gave her a slow wink and again that throbbing pulse beat through her, accompanied this time by a pull from deep within her body. She gave herself a mental shake. This wasn’t for her benefit, it was for Sara’s, she told herself sternly. She had no right to feel this way, to react this way, to wish that things could be different and that she could explore these new sensations he elicited in her.

  “I don’t know how well these shoes will bear up to much walking, though. I hope it’s not far.”

  Rey cast a quick glance at her feet and gave a short laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to carry you if necessary.”

  The thought of his strong arms around her, holding her, carrying her—it was getting to be too much. She forced an answering laugh from a throat that had suddenly grown too tight.

  “I don’t think it’ll have to come to that,” she said, slightly breathless.

  “Pity,” Rey responded, his voice deep and intimate in the close confines of the car.

  It was definitely time to get their conversation back onto a safer track, Rina decided and scoured her mind for something they could discuss without it entering into waters she had no desire to swim. Well, no right to swim anyway.

  “Do you mind if I ask you something?” she said, keeping her voice light.

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “This curse your grandfather kept talking about. What’s it all about?”

  “Ah, yes. Not one of our family’s best moments in history,” Rey replied enigmatically. “I tell you what. I’ll explain over our drinks, after we’ve done some dancing.”

  “Dancing?”

  “Didn’t I mention it? The restaurant is built over the water and the dance floor is one of the most popular in all of Puerto Seguro.”

  Dancing she could handle, high heels or not. It was something both she and Sara loved and did equally well. Although, she hadn’t had the opportunity to indulge while she and Jacob had been together. He’d been uncomfortable on the dance floor and to keep him happy, she’d thought it was a small thing to forgo her own love of dancing. To be able to indulge tonight sent her pulse thrumming in anticipation.

  “Sounds like fun,” she responded with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. She couldn’t wait.

  And it was fun. Despite the relatively early hour for entertainment in the Med, the dance floor was crowded. To her delight, Rey was equally as skilled a dancer as her, even more so perhaps, she decided as he deftly twirled her out from his arms and back again in tune to the heady beat of the music playing from the discreetly placed speakers. She’d half expected the restaurant to be empty, being a week night, but the place was humming with activity. The tapas bar was doing a particularly fast trade on wines and beer and the delicious tapas menu which featured a lot of the local seafood as well as what Rey referred to as “foreign imports.”

  By the time they found a table, overlooking the harbor, Rina was feeling far more relaxed.

  “Phew, that was great. Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, catching her breath before taking a long, cold sip of the iced water that had just been delivered to their table. “De nada. We were supposed to come here the night before you went to France, remember? You’d been begging me for days.”

  “Ah, yes, of course.” And just like that her happy mood shattered into a million shards. How many other metaphorical land mines would she step straight into before Sara came back? she wondered.

  “Did you want to look at the tapas menu, or do you prefer to leave the choice in my hands?” Rey asked.

  Rina waved a hand at the sheet he held between his long elegant fingers. “Oh, you go ahead. Surprise me.”

  Rey beckoned to a waiter who came swiftly to take their order.

  “And do you wish to have wine with your meal, also, señor?” the waiter asked politely.

  “Sara? Do you want wine, or did you want to stay with your water?” Rey asked.

  Rina had the impression he was expecting her to refuse wine. She thought it strange when she knew Sara enjoyed quality sparkling wines over anything else.

  “Oh, wine, please. Do they have any of the Catalonian Cavas?”

  There, even though her preference was for a full-bodied red, she could be more like Sara if she needed to be. She’d even remembered the district Sara had mentioned, in one of her e-mails, where she’d discovered a new favorite. Rey raised an eyebrow at her and placed the order with the waiter who nodded before leaving them at the table.

  “I was beginning to wonder if there w
as something wrong. You haven’t taken wine for a couple of weeks now.”

  “Me? Oh, no. I’m fit as a horse.” Rina tried to keep a smile plastered on her face.

  Sara had stopped drinking wine? That wasn’t like her at all. Maybe Rey was right. When Rina saw her at the airport, Sara had been a bit off-color. Ah, well, hopefully she would be able to get to the root of everything when she finally caught up with her twin. Rina settled back into her seat and decided a subject change was definitely in order. It was all too easy to slip unwarily into dangerous waters, like the wine.

  “You were going to tell me about the curse?” she prompted.

  “Ah, yes, the curse.” Rey sighed and leaned back in his chair, fixing his gaze at something in the distance across the harbor. “As I said before, it is not one of my family’s greatest moments. In fact, most of us would quite happily forget about the whole thing, but for some reason Abuelo has become fixated on the topic. It would probably be of benefit to all of us if you understood the background and helped to head him off from his ramblings.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Rina asked, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the table and rest her chin on interlaced fingers.

  Rey snorted. “As bad as it gets, though I have nothing else to compare it to. So, where to begin?”

  “At the beginning, I suppose,” she encouraged softly. “Who made the curse, and why?”

  “That bit’s easy. Three hundred years ago, one of my ancestors hired a governess to teach his three daughters. It’s the old story, I suppose. His wife was often sickly, and largely absent from his daily life. The governess was young and beautiful. The Baron was handsome and virile—a typical del Castillo trait,” he teased.

  Rina felt her lips curve in an answering smile and she rolled her eyes at him. “And was he modest, too? Another del Castillo trait, I suppose?”

  “Oh, of course.” Rey’s smile widened. “Anyway, to cut a long story short, over the years, he fathered three sons with her. At the same time, his long-suffering wife bore him three more daughters. He was determined to acknowledge his male heirs—his infant sons from the governess. So he forced his wife to acknowledge them as her own children, while substituting the girls for the governess’s babes.