by Lori Wilde
“That seemed to go pretty well,” she commented after everyone else had left the room.
“You charmed them,” he said. You charmed me.
How about that? The playboy tamed by the workaholic.
In that moment, Thomaz knew he’d do whatever was necessary to make her his own.
“Where are we going tonight?” Bianca asked, excited to be out of the office and in Thomaz’s car with the top down, the wind blowing through her hair.
They’d been on three more dates, each more romantic than the last. He’d taken her sailing at sunset, to an outdoor bandstand to listen and dance to love ballads under the stars, and on a picnic in the park. She wondered how he could top them tonight.
“There’s something I want to show you,” he said cryptically.
Intrigued, Bianca tried to guess where they might be headed. To watch the sunset? To dance the samba at a street fair? To his house? Yipes, she wasn’t ready for that.
But where they ended up took her totally by surprise.
On the outskirts of Rio, Thomaz turned down a pristinely paved asphalt one-lane road surrounded by lush green fields enclosed behind white metal pole fencing where horses grazed.
They drove up a circular drive to what appeared to be a mansion, and for a moment, she thought it was Thomaz’s home. But then she saw the small elegant wooden sign posted on the grounds that read: Safe Haven Children’s Home.
He’d brought her to an orphanage? Confused, Bianca canted her head. “What are we doing here?”
“Since your mother was once an orphan on the streets of Rio...” He stopped, suddenly looking uncertain.
“Yes?” He didn’t speak for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to go on. That he was going to put the Ferrari in gear and zoom away.
Finally, he said, “The plight of street children is part of Rio. I would be remiss if I showed you only the positive aspects of our culture.”
The way he said our sent unexpected goose bumps walking up her arms. He said it as if she was part of Brazil.
He killed the engine and went around to help her from the passenger side. The sun was starting to fade as they walked up the cobblestone walkway to the front door. It was yanked open before they had a chance to knock, and a middle-aged woman with graying hair and a happy face folded Thomaz into a big hug.
The woman chatted with him in Portuguese. Clearly, the staff here knew him. Did he come to visit the orphanage often?
Then the woman glanced around Thomaz and saw Bianca standing there. She reached out a hand. “I’m Rafaella Alves.”
“Bianca St. James.”
Rafaella eyed her. “You are Brazilian?”
“American with Brazilian roots.”
“Her mother was a street child rescued by missionaries and adopted in America,” Thomaz explained.
The next thing Bianca knew, Rafaella was embracing her as though she were a long-lost daughter. “Come in, come in,” she invited, ushering them inside.
The home opened up into a foyer that was both elegant and functional. They’d no sooner stepped inside than a passing child called out Thomaz’s name, begging Thomaz to come play.
Thomaz’s face lit up, and he laughed as the boy took his hand and pulled him deeper into the massive house. Bianca hung back in the doorway, not really sure what she should do.
Rafaella stayed with her. “You must be very special to him.”
Caught up in watching Thomaz with the children, Bianca started at the older woman’s words. “What?”
“He’s never brought anyone here before.”
Why had he brought her here? “Does Thomaz come often?”
“At least weekly. He owns the place, you know. He built it as a legacy to his parents who were both orphans adopted to wealthy families.”
That shook her to her core. A playboy who owned an orphanage? “Really?”
“He funds fifty percent of our daily expenses,” Rafaella went on. “And the rest comes from donations from his wealthy friends. We wanted to name it Santos Children’s Haven, but he wouldn’t let us. He doesn’t like people knowing he’s involved.”
“Why not? He should be very proud.”
Rafaella shrugged. “It is a personal thing for him. It is not for praise or recognition. He simply wants to honor his parents’ memory and their charity.”
“Bonita,” Thomaz called and motioned for her. “Come.”
“Come where?”
“To play a game,” the kids chorused.
“But only for a short while,” Rafaella said. “Dinner is in half an hour.”
Trailed by eager children, Thomaz raced across the floor to take Bianca’s hand.
In the gathering dusk of twilight, Thomaz and the children dragged her to the wide expanse of rolling lawn at the back of the house. A string of colored lights stretched from the patio to the fence at the rear of the enclosure.
“What are we playing?” Bianca asked.
“Come a little closer,” Thomaz murmured.
Bianca stepped closer.
Thomaz laughed. “No, that is the name of the game. Come a little closer.”
He then explained the rules. It was a lot like red light, green light combined with hide-and-seek. Thomaz was to be It, and a stone birdbath in the middle of the yard was base. He had to keep one part of his body on the base at all times, and from that position, he could see all four quadrants of the backyard.
Thomaz closed his eyes and counted to twenty while everyone scrambled to hide. Bianca hid behind a clump of shrubbery, surprised to find her heart was thumping. She hadn’t played a game like this since she was a teenager entertaining her younger siblings. Back then, she was always It, and her brothers and sister got to do the hiding.
Thomaz opened his eyes and started searching for the kids. “Victor is behind the shed,” he called out.
Sheepishly, Victor shrugged and went to sit on the back patio.
Thomaz said, “Come a little closer.” Then he closed his eyes and counted again.
Bianca moved from the shrub to a jacaranda tree where a grinning little girl was already hiding. The child put her finger to her lips and softly giggled. “Shh.”
“Marcos and Marina in the tree fort,” Thomaz yelled. “Lucas behind the trellis.”
Marcos, Marina, and Lucas came out of hiding, but suddenly the girl beside Bianca bolted fast as a bullet toward the base.
She didn’t make it. Thomaz ensnared her seconds before she touched the birdbath. “Flavia is out.”
Bianca’s heart was beating so loudly she could hear it in her ears.
“Come a little closer,” Thomaz invited the remaining players and closed his eyes to count again.
Bianca searched for a place nearer the birdbath where she wouldn’t get caught and realized there wasn’t any hideout that would camouflage her size. The kids could curl up into balls behind things, but she was too grown-up for that.
“Seventeen,” Thomaz called out.
Get down or he’s going to see you.
Bianca didn’t know what compelled her—maybe her competitive instincts—because honestly, did it really matter if he caught her or not? But she acted out of pure instinct and just dropped to the ground, splaying flat in the flowerbed, heedless of the dirt and sticks and leaves clinging to her clothes.
Thomaz opened his eyes and rattled off more names until everyone was out except Bianca. The children sat on the porch talking and laughing, the joyous sounds echoing softly.
“Bianca,” he said into the darkness. “Come a little closer.”
She’d have to make a run for it. Gathering her courage, she got to her feet and sprinted toward the birdbath. She reached it just as Thomaz opened his eyes. Her hand touched the cement lip just as his encircled her wrist.
“You’re caught,” he said huskily.
She raised her head. He smiled, and Bianca could have sworn the earth moved.
“She’s safe!” all the children yelled.
“Hey!”
Thomaz teased. “Whose side are you on?”
“Bianca won, Bianca won!” The kids jumped up to dance around them.
Thomaz kept his gaze locked with hers, a laugh tugging at his lips. She certainly didn’t feel safe.
Not in the least.
“It is a nice night for a stroll,” Thomaz observed after dinner with Rafaella and the children. “Would you like to walk around the grounds before we head back to the city?”
“That sounds good.”
Thomaz took her hand, linking his fingers through hers, and Bianca didn’t even try to resist.
“Why did you bring me here tonight?” she asked as they walked along the cobblestone path.
“I almost didn’t.”
“What made you decide to do it?”
“I guess I wanted you to know that I am more than the man who can give one-hour orgasms.”
“I’m warning you,” she said, “you’re hyping this talent so much, you’d better be able to live up to the promise.”
“Are you interested in finding out?” he teased.
Hell, yes! “I can’t cross that line. You are my client. An affair could jeopardize our working relationship.”
“I could hire another ad agency.”
“No!”
He startled.
“I mean...don’t do that, please.” She didn’t want to explain about Richard and the mistakes she’d made. But if he took his account away from Stillman, Burke and Hollister so he could have an affair with her, she’d lose her job for sure.
“I didn’t want to do that, anyway. Your ideas intrigue me.”
“Then no more talk of affairs and one-hour orgasms.”
“Perhaps after the campaign is over.”
“Perhaps,” she said, knowing there was very little chance of that. They lived in separate countries, living completely different lifestyles.
Thomaz stopped beneath the shelter of a jacaranda tree. His eyes were hooded in the darkness, drawing her in.
“Bonita,” he whispered.
Instinct warned her to move, but her feet were rooted to the spot. His hands closed on her shoulders, and he gently drew her into his arms. She felt the hardness of his thighs pressed against hers, the crush of her breasts against the silky material of his suit jacket.
Hopelessly, she stared into his eyes, inky black pools that paralyzed her completely. Her breath escaped from her lungs, and her lips parted. In spite of all the reasons why this was a bad idea, she needed to kiss him.
His hands moved up, caressing her neck, cupping the back of her head, tilting her face, his fingers splaying through her hair.
With throat-tightening languor, his mouth hovered above hers, his gaze holding her spellbound until his dark lashes closed. Swept away by the delicious heat, Bianca’s eyes drifted closed, too, as his breath mingled lightly with hers.
Insects buzzed in the trees. A light breeze ruffled the leaves. She breathed in the smell of the ocean and Thomaz. And then his lips fully covered hers.
Her heart hammered at the hollow of her throat, in her ears, behind her knees. His tightening grip pressed his thighs against her hips. She burned there, blistered by the contact.
His tongue followed the outline of her lips, touching her mouth with tender pressure. Her entire body felt scorched as he pulled her up flush against him.
She opened her mouth, letting him in. He kissed as if he’d been made exclusively for it. His number one talent.
But then there were the rumors of those one-hour orgasms. If he made love the way he kissed...oh, my.
Every nerve ending in her body caught fire. Her pulse raced. Her breathing swung from crazy-erratic to hardly breathing at all. Lust blinded her, hijacked her brain. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, could only kiss and kiss and kiss.
And if her cell phone hadn’t rung with Emma on the other end, Bianca might have tumbled headlong into the abyss.
4
For the remainder of the week they worked together in the office by day, and by night they went out to explore Rio. After that night at the orphanage, something had changed between them. They settled into an easy rhythm, and being around him was just plain fun.
Thomaz was showing her how to play and not take things so seriously. Whenever she was around him, she felt freer...happier.
But there was that pesky sexual attraction.
Twice more her friends had called to caution her when things had gotten heated and out of hand—once when she and Thomaz had gone to a club to dance the samba and then again when they’d gone to listen to music in an open-air cafe and they’d played footsie underneath the table.
After leaving the office on Friday, Thomaz announced, “Tomorrow, we’re doing something special.”
“We’re supposed to be working,” she said. “We’ve made big strides on your campaign, and I’m leaving next Wednesday. We don’t have much time left.”
“And because of that we deserve a day off,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven in the morning. Dress casually and bring a change of clothing.”
A change of clothing? That sounded intriguing.
The following morning, Thomaz drove her to a small airfield where his private plane awaited with his pilot to jet them to Iguazu Falls. The day was warm and sunny.
“Did you bring a change of clothes?” Thomaz asked. “We’re going to get soaking wet.”
Bianca held up her beach bag. “I’ve been to Niagara Falls. I came prepared.”
Thomaz chuckled. “Do you know what Eleanor Roosevelt said when she first saw Iguazu Falls?”
“What’s that?”
“Poor Niagara.”
Bianca laughed. “Well, bring it on. I’m ready to be wowed.”
The plane landed at a local airport, and from there Thomaz chartered a private boat to take just the two of them to the falls. There were definitely some perks to dating a billionaire.
You’re not dating him. Don’t even go there.
Maybe not, but this non-date was shaping up to be one of the best dates of her life. Iguazu did put Niagara to shame, simply because there were so many more falls. The noise was deafening. The shower of spray cooled her heated skin. Bianca realized that Thomaz was watching her, not the water. It made her feel both self-conscious and strangely flattered.
Get over yourself. He’s probably just seen the thing a million times.
Thomaz told the driver to speed up, and he revved the engine to a breakneck pace that sent Bianca’s blood strumming. The boat bounced over the choppy water. The cool splash of water in her face, the taste of sunshine, the thundering sounds. It all coursed through her, making her feel fresh and alive.
After the boat ride, they walked along the top of the falls. The vistas of waterfalls and tropical jungle beyond stretched out before them, simply breathtaking.
In this noisy place, Bianca felt a strange kind of peace, even as tourists thronged and helicopters dipped low over the falls.
She was so grateful Thomaz had brought her here. She turned to tell him that as they stood on a viewing platform overhanging the falls. He was leaning on the railing with his forearms a short distance from her. His hair was soaking wet and plastered rather sexily against his forehead.
He glanced over and gave her a soft grin that spread slowly across his face. All around him were rainbows created from the sun glinting off the water spray. Thomaz Santos was glowing.
Bianca had never seen anything like it. She whipped out her camera, never mind that the lens was going to get soaked, and snapped his picture.
He reached for the camera. “My turn. I want to capture you the way you look now. Like an intoxicating water nymph.”
She gave him the camera, and their fingers brushed during the exchange. She felt the contact clean through to her solar plexus. The man was potent. She had to give him that. She reached up a hand to finger-comb her damp hair, but he shook his head.
“Leave it, you are beautiful.”
A heated flush rose to her cheeks,
and she ducked her head, embarrassed by the sound of his husky voice. She turned him on. And it was completely mutual.
After the walk along the falls, they went back to the plane so they could change clothes. In the bathroom of the private jet, she’d stripped off her wet cargo pants and was about to pull on a pair of silky slacks when there was a knock on the door.
“Just a minute,” she said, standing there in nothing but the chastity belt Thomaz had designed.
“I’ve got a glass of champagne here for you,” Thomaz said, “to celebrate our first time at the falls.”
He said it as if there would be many more outings, and Bianca felt at once both sad and confused. She did want many more outings with Thomaz. But it was a very dangerous thing to yearn for.
She stood behind the door, opened it a crack, and stuck her hand out to receive the champagne.
“You’re wearing my lingerie.”
“What!” How could he see her? She was behind the door and had opened it only enough for him to pass the champagne to her. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror over the sink and realized that from his position in the hallway, Thomaz could see her reflection.
She snatched the glass inside the bathroom with her and slammed the door closed. “Go away.”
“You’re wearing the underwear I designed.” He sounded raspy, aroused.
“Of course, I’m wearing your underwear,” she snapped, leaning her forehead against the door. Dumb, dumb, dumb to let him get a glimpse of her with it on. “I have to get a sense of the product before I can successfully market it.”
“Are you sure you’re not using it against me?”
“What does that mean?”
“I have noticed whenever we’re about to get to know each other better physically,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “that you always get a phone call. Is someone monitoring you?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”