Page 24 of Their One-Night Rio Reunion
She’d never looked more alluring than she did right now, and it made him think of that evening in London when she’d appeared before him, hair chopped and transformed into a vision of beauty that had short-circuited his thought processes for long seconds.
Up until that moment she’d effectively hidden herself from scrutiny, with her long hair and by choosing clothes that didn’t flatter her shape. Caio had put it down to lack of confidence, and perhaps the influence of growing up without a mother figure or sisters.
The first time he’d actually seen the shape of her had been on their wedding day, when she’d come to him dressed head to toe in lace, like a bride from the last century. But that night in London she’d been in a slip of a black cocktail dress that had looked as if it was defying gravity, clinging to her chest and thighs, and Caio’s first reaction had been one of a man from the last century. He’d wanted to tell her to change immediately into what she usually wore—the kind of clothes that had helped him maintain the illusion that she wasn’t as beautiful as she was.
She had the kind of beauty that crept up on you and slapped you across the face for underestimating it. And he’d been as stunned as if someone had slapped him. But then he’d realised that his reaction was ridiculous. Told himself he should be embracing the fact that his wife had discovered her inner style and beauty maven. Her face had been revealed, its spectacular bone structure no longer hidden by a fall of silky hair. Eyes huge. Mouth...
Caio had said something to her then. He couldn’t even remember what. He’d just had to get them out of there before she saw her effect on him.
But then he’d started noticing men noticing her. And the women, sensing a rival. It had made him feel protective and...possessive.Jealous.Yet he’d managed to keep a lid on his control—mainly by focusing on work to the extent that he was too exhausted to think about much else.
But now control was just a word...and Caio wasn’t sure if he even understood the meaning of it any more.
Ana suddenly stood up, and Caio had to fight to keep his gaze up. She said, ‘Actually, there’s a dress... I’d like your opinion on whether or not it’d be suitable for a date...’
‘Ana—’
But she’d turned and gone back inside, disappearing before Caio could stop her. He gulped back the last of his coffee, but it wasn’t helping the itchy feeling under his skin or the fire in his blood.
He stood up, restless. The sunset had somehow come and gone unnoticed and dusk was falling, bathing the grounds in a lavender hue. The birdsong of the night was starting up. It was an idyllic scenario, if only Caio could feel relaxed enough to appreciate it.
Right now, he knew he’d only feel relaxed again when Ana was on a plane and there was some serious mileage between them. Although, much to his chagrin, he wasn’t even sure if that would do it. She’d embedded herself under his skin and in his blood so indelibly that he feared there was only one way to exorcise her...
Disgusted with himself, and wondering uneasily what the hell Ana was up to, Caio shucked off his jacket and went into the study/library, where he’d noticed that Luca Fonseca had a drinks cabinet full of the kind of whiskey that had aged in a barrel over many, many years in an Irish distillery on the edges of a misty mountainous lake. Perfect.
He helped himself to a measure from a bottle that was already open and swallowed it in one. He’d hoped the heat might eclipse the other heat in his blood, but so far it didn’t seem to be helping.
He’d told Ana on their wedding night that he didn’t sleep with virgins, and no matter how alluring she was he would not be tempted. Their marriage might be over, but he knew instinctively that seducing Ana would bring about the kind of emotional complications he’d spent his life avoiding, after witnessing the emotional minefield of his own parents’ marriage.
He would resist. He had to. They only had a few hours left. How hard could it be?
Caio had just poured another shot when he heard a sound behind him and turned around. Earlier, when Ana had appeared in the swimsuit, his first thought had been that he would never erase that image from his mind. Well, it had just been erased and replaced.
And now he had a second thought:I’m a dead man.
Ana faced Caio across the expanse of room with every cell in her body mustering up the last of her courage. She hadn’t noticed it getting dark outside. The low light threw out a golden glow and put everything into shadow. Including Caio’s expression. Maybe it was better that she couldn’t see his reaction.
She’d changed into the blue silk dress, and the way it skimmed her body made her feel as if she could be naked. The deep vee cut between her breasts almost to her navel. The dress was pretty much backless.
She’d put her hair up in a haphazard bun in a bid to try and cool her flushed face and neck as much to be artful, and tendrils fell down around her face.
She only realised in that moment that she’d forgotten to put shoes on. She was barefoot, and the dress was pooling around her feet because it was too long for her.
Suddenly she was overcome with self-consciousness, and she was about to turn around and flee when Caio said in a strangled-sounding voice, ‘What in God’s name are you trying to do to me, woman?’
Ana went still. He sounded tortured. She took a step forward and suddenly Caio’s face was revealed. It was stark with the same look she’d seen earlier by the pool, and it made her heart skip a beat and her pulse trip at the same time.
It looked like...hunger. The hunger she felt too.
Some of her confidence—admittedly blind confidence—came back. When she spoke her voice was husky with desire and nerves. ‘I’m wondering if this is a bit over the top for a first date? When I go to seduce the man who will be my first kind and gentle lover?’
Caio made a sound halfway between a laugh and a snarl. ‘I can guarantee you that if you wear that dress, the man won’t be kind or gentle. He’ll have one thing on his mind.’
Ana took another step into the room. ‘Maybe that’s a good thing. After all, for my first time I want it to be about just one thing.’
‘Do not say it, Ana.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Sex?’
