The Spaniard's Pleasurable Vengeance

“You think that will help?”

“I do.”

“How? You think the hot water will somehow miraculously render your swimmers inert? Somehow, I don’t see it.”

“You need to relax,” he clarified. “It will help with that.”

She stared at him like she was trying to read something in his gaze. Finally, she nodded.

Miranda allowed him to lead her into the now-steamy bathroom, her hand limp in his. This lost and dispirited Miranda wasn’t one he recognized, and frankly, it bothered him.

Sinking into the hot water, she sighed as if releasing tension, but her mouth remained flat, her eyes still unfocused.

Basilio bathed his beautiful lover, being careful not to let his touches grow sexual, no matter how the sight of her naked body incited his own flesh. Finally, after several minutes of him cupping the hot water and letting it pour down her skin, Miranda collapsed against the angled back of the tub, letting her body slide down so most of it was submerged.

Since there were no bubbles, the submersion did his libido no favors.

Still, he managed to control himself as he spoke to her about everything but sex, babies and her past.

At first, her responses were desultory or disjointed by turns, but eventually she began to share in the conversation, expressing the opinion that autumn wasn’t really autumn without the leaves changing color. It was a throwaway conversation, but her willingness to engage made Basilio nearly weak with relief.

She’d really been thrown by them having unprotected sex and coming to the realization they’d shared nothing of their health status with each other.

Understandable, really. She knew almost nothing about him. He, on the other hand, had walked into this with plenty of information on Miranda Smith, née Weber. The report on her had included her recent sexual activity, or lack thereof, and her health status. The first time they had sex, he’d known he didn’t need to see test results.

She’d let her desire override good sense.

He’d done exactly the same thing when he woke up beside her, his mind filled with the memory dreams he’d been having.

He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t as disturbed by the prospect of her being pregnant as she was, but Miranda was definitely not a woman who took this kind of situation in stride.

Her lack of practical knowledge about the morning-after pill only showed what he’d suspected. Miranda Smith simply did not take risks like the one they’d taken. A very primitive part of him liked knowing she was out of control when they had sex as he’d proved himself to be.

It made no sense in their situation. Their interlude couldn’t last. There was too much standing between them for him to even consider a long-distance relationship with this woman.

Yet he found more satisfaction in bathing her than he did in intercourse with many of his past lovers. Her silky skin. Her soft, modest curves. It was all perfect.

Miranda suddenly rose up from the hot water, leaving him scrambling to his feet.

“I’ll take the morning-after pill, but if I’ve already ovulated, it’s not going to work.” Water glistened on her silky skin.

He had to focus on what she’d said rather than the body he found so perfect. Okay, they were back to unplanned baby prospect for conversation. “Think positive.”

“I’ve learned to be a realist.” She stepped out of the draining water and onto the bath mat.

“But you are naturally optimistic. I hear it in the way you talk about the children you’re trying to help.” He reached out to dry her off with the towel he’d grabbed from the rack.

She took the brightly colored terry cloth from him, stepping as far away as she could in the limited space. “I have hope for them.”

“But not yourself?”

“I’m not unhappy.” She finished drying off and wrapped the towel around her torso, hiding her nudity from him.

The action felt significant.

“No.” He reached for her hand, holding it as he led the way back into the bedroom, inexplicably grateful when she let him. “But you think the worst will happen.”

“Is a baby the worst thing? I guess you’d think so.”

“That is not what I said.” Damn. She was adept at reading meaning into the least word.

“But it’s what you meant.”

“No.”

“So you’re saying that if I’m pregnant, you’ll be part of the baby’s life.”

He didn’t suggest other more definitive answers to an unwanted pregnancy. He could read between the lines, too, and hopefully with more accuracy. Despite what it would surely mean for her life, Miranda wouldn’t consider the baby unwanted.

“I would, yes.” His own child would trump his brother’s sensibilities. It would be a way to keep Miranda in Basilio’s life.

He did his best to quash the foolish thought, but it would not go away.

She stopped beside the bed and faced him. “You’re serious?”

“We may not know each other well, but you are already aware of how loyal I am to my family.”

Tension drained out of her, her lovely face relaxing, her body losing its too-tense posture. “Okay, good. Not that I think I’m pregnant.”

She could have fooled him.

“I mean, what are the chances one time would do it?” she asked like he hadn’t brought up that very point before. “People try for years for children.”

He’d mentioned that, too, but he wasn’t going to remind her. She was finally coming down off the ledge.

“Are you ready to go back to bed?” They had at least a couple of hours before they needed to get up.

She resisted his tug that would have resulted in her sitting on the edge of the bed. “Um, do you have access to your health status on your phone?”

“Of course.” What sexually active person in today’s world didn?

?t?

“Great. Um...can I see it?”

He nearly smacked his own forehead in a moment of realization. Of course she wanted that. He should have thought of it as soon as she mentioned not seeing them earlier. “No problemo. Let me pull it up.”

“Um... I’ve got mine, too.”

“And you will show me and then you will relax, hmm?”

“Maybe?” She got her phone from the charger beside the bed.

It only took a minute for them to look at one another’s phones.

“So you haven’t, um, had other unprotected sex...you know, since your last physical?”

“No.” He would have told her that he’d never had unprotected sex before, because it was true, but that might make her think there was something more between them.

Something beyond sex unlike anything he’d ever known. Something possibly permanent when they could be anything but.

“You don’t regularly engage in high-risk behavior?” She sounded like she was repeating something she’d read.

He answered her regardless. “No, I do not.”

“Okay, good. That’s good.” She gave him a severely uncomfortable look. “You can ask me, too.”

“You would not have freaked out so badly if this was something you were used to.”

Her expression cleared, like she was relieved he wouldn’t be asking her personal questions about her sex life. “That’s true. I’m glad you realize that.”

“You already told me you aren’t easy.”

“I could have been lying.”

“I do not think lying is something you do often, or well.” Which was why Basilio had believed her about the day five years ago and Tiffany’s part in it, as well as Miranda’s claims about his brother’s abhorrent behavior.

“You’re right.” She bit her bottom lip, her manner vulnerable. “I hate dishonesty.”

A frisson of unexpected concern went through him. She was not going to take well to learning that there had been an ulterior motive behind their meeting. If she ever learned it. He couldn’t be naive to the possibility, though. She was too intelligent for him to dismiss the chance.

Danger of exposure or not, he had a job to do.