The Disobedient Virgin

Jake pushed his plate away and reached for the coffee pot. “I’m not making fun of you, senhorita, I’m simply commenting on what I observed today.” He filled a cup with the steaming black liquid and began lifting it to his lips.

“I’d like some coffee, too.”

“You?”

“Me.”

“You’re too…”

Too what? Too young for caffeine? Not if he was right about what he’d seen a moment ago. That sudden awareness of the way he’d been looking a

t her…

No. Forget that. The rush of color in her face, the way she’d parted her lips, the swift rise of her breasts, hadn’t meant a thing. And if seeing her lick the last bit of ice cream from that spoon had almost driven him out of his mind, that was his problem, not hers.

Catarina Mendes might be of legal age but she was just a kid. She was his ward.

It would be unwise to forget that.

“Do they let you have coffee at the convent?”

“No,” she said unhesitatingly, “but you’ve made it quite clear I’m not at the convent any more.” She plucked a cup and saucer from the table and held them out. “Coffee, if you please, Senhor Ramirez.”

Jake tightened his jaw, picked up the pot and poured.

“Was I right?”

“About what?”

“About you getting words of wisdom from Mother Elisabete. I got the feeling she was filled with advice for her charges.”

“She means well.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“She looks out for her girls, and—” And what? Catarina frowned. Why was she saying these things? Mother Elisabete might be an excellent administrator but nobody, not even the nuns, would ever say she looked out for the girls. There wasn’t much sense in automatically contradicting everything Ramirez said. “Actually,” she said primly, “we learned about nourishment in Health Class.”

“Ah. Health 101. Let’s see…The food pyramid. A sound mind in a sound body. The value of exercise and of drinking eight glasses of water a day.”

He sounded serious but there was that hint of laughter again. It put little crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Such green eyes. Deep, deep emerald…

“And sex.”

Catarina blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I was thinking about the topics we covered when I took Health.”

“You must have a good memory,” she said sweetly, and was pleased to see it was his turn to blush.

“I’m thirty. Not exactly ancient, Mendes.”

Thirty. She’d been trying to figure out his age. He was the youngest man she’d spoken to since she’d gone to live at the convent.

“Anyway, I’d bet the health curriculum hasn’t changed all that much.” He sipped at his coffee, his gaze steady on hers above the thin rim of his cup. “So, what about it?”

“What about what?”