The Disobedient Virgin

What he found was a note written in Estes’s hand. Jake read aloud. “‘Dear Ramirez, I am sure you will be happy to learn that your half-brothers have also successfully completed their tasks.”’ He looked up at Cat. “I figured they’d have to jump through some hoops, too.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Thank God my jump led to you.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Go on,” she said. “Read the rest.”

“‘If you wish to meet them, please appear at my office promptly at four in the afternoon on the fourteenth of February.’ If I wish to meet them,” Jake said, and made a choked sound that was supposed to be a laugh.

Cat kissed him. “Only another few weeks! Oh, Jake, how wonderful.”

“There’s more.”

He read the final paragraph.

“‘You will, at the same time,

receive a check representing your share in your late father’s estate.”’

Estes had thoughtfully translated the amount of the inheritance into American dollars. Jake read it aloud.

It was an amazing figure.

“He probably stole it from widows and orphans,” Jake growled, though he knew that wasn’t true. One of the things he’d learned about his father was that Enrique had inherited a fortune and more than tripled it during his lifetime. “I already told Estes what he could do with that money. I sure as hell won’t touch it.”

Cat put her hand on his. “Maybe your brothers can put your share to good use.”

“If they’re anything like me,” Jake said decisively, “they won’t want it, either.”

But that was the question, wasn’t it? he thought later that night, as he lay in bed with his wife asleep in his arms. Were his half-brothers like him? Or were they like the man who’d sired them?

Another couple of months and he’d know.

They flew to Rio a few days before the scheduled meeting.

Jake had rented a duplex at Ipanema. The terrace, which overlooked the gorgeous beach, had its own private pool. After a little coaxing he convinced Catarina that the only way to enjoy that privacy was to swim nude—and to make love under the hot Brazilian sun.

“Wicked man,” Cat whispered the first time, in such a throaty purr as her body arched to his that Jake grinned and said yeah, and wasn’t she glad he was?

They walked on the beach, watched the sunset from the rocks at Arpoadoar, discovered tiny restaurants and elegant boutiques. At Jake’s urging Cat bought the kind of bikini that befitted a carioca, even though she refused to wear it anywhere but on their terrace—for him. They danced until dawn, swaying together to the hot, sensual beat of Rio’s music.

And then, at last, it was the fourteenth of February.

Jake awoke early, immediately aware that this was the day. Whatever happened at four o’clock would surely change his life.

He dropped a light kiss on his sleeping wife’s mouth, slipped on a pair of shorts and went out on the terrace.

Moments later Cat came up behind him, slid her arms around his waist and kissed his back.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry I woke you, sweetheart,” he said, drawing her to his side.

“I put up the coffee.”

“Great.”

They stood in silence, watching a lone jogger on the beach below. Then Cat sighed.

“It’s going to be fine, Jake.”

There was no point pretending he didn’t know what she meant.