Reckless Night in Rio

With a deep breath, she turned.

Gabriel Santos stood before her. In the middle of her family’s crowded living room, he towered over other men in every way, even more darkly handsome than she remembered. But it wasn’t just his chiseled jawline or his expensive Italian suit that made him stand out. It wasn’t just his height or the strength of his broad shoulders.

It was the ruthless intensity of his black eyes. A tremble went through her.

“Gabriel…?” she whispered.

His sensual lips curved. “Hello, Laura.”

She swallowed, pressing her nails into her palms, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare—from this incredible dream. “You can’t be here,” she whispered. “As in here.”

“And yet I am,” he said. “Laura.”

She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips. It didn’t seem right that he could be here, in her family’s living room, surrounded by friends and family eating potluck.

At thirty-eight, Gabriel Santos owned a vast international conglomerate that bought and shipped steel and timber across the world. His life was filled with one passionate, single-minded pursuit after another. Business. Adrenaline-tinged sports. Beautiful women. Laura’s lips turned downward. Beautiful women most of all.

So what was he doing here? What could he possibly have come for unless…unless…

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother disappearing down the hall with her baby.

Trying to stop her hands from shaking, Laura folded her arms around the waist of her hand-sewn bridesmaid’s dress. So Gabriel had come to Greenhill Farm. It didn’t exactly require a crack team unit to find her here. Parkers had lived here for two hundred years. It didn’t mean he knew about Robby. It didn’t. He couldn’t.

Could he?

Gabriel lifted a dark eyebrow. “Are you glad to see me?”

“Of course I’m not glad.” She bit out the words. “If you recall, I’m no longer your secretary. So if you’ve come five thousand miles because you need me to go back to Rio and sew a button or make your coffee—”

“No.” His eyes glittered at her. “That’s not why I’ve come.” He slowly looked around the house, which was decorated with strings of pink lights and red paper hearts along the walls, and candles above the fire in the old stone fireplace. “What’s going on here?”

“A wedding reception.”

He blinked, then came closer to her, the wooden boards creaking beneath his feet. Laura’s eyes widened as the shadows of firelight shifted across the hard angles of his face. He was so handsome, she thought in bewildered wonder. She’d forgotten how handsome. Her dreams hadn’t done him justice. She could see why so many women chased after him all over the world…and why he was the despair of them all.

“And just who—” his black eyes narrowed into a glower “—is the bride?”

She was bewildered at the sudden harshness of his tone. “My little sister. Becky.”

“Ah.” His shoulders relaxed imperceptibly. Then he frowned. “Becky? She’s not much more than a child.”

“Tell me about it.” Laura looked down at her bridesmaid’s dress. In the gleam of the fire and pink lights swaying above, the pale pink gown appeared almost white. She looked up suddenly. “Did you think it was me?”

Their eyes locked in the crowded room.

“É claro,” Gabriel said quietly. “Of course I thought it was you.”

The idea of her having the time or the interest to date, let alone marry, some other man made her choke back a laugh. She smoothed her bridesmaid’s gown with trembling hands. “No.”

“So there is no one important in your life right now?” he asked, in a casual tone belied by way he held his body in absolute stillness. There was someone important in her life. She just had to get Gabriel out of here before he saw Robby. “You have no right to ask.”

“Sim.” He paused. “But you’re not wearing a ring.”

“Fine.” Laura’s voice was painfully quiet as she looked down at her feet. “I’m not married.”

She didn’t have to ask if Gabriel was married. She already knew the answer. How many times had he told her he would never, ever take a wife?

I’m not made for love, querida. I’ll never have a little housewife cooking my dinner in a snug house every night as I read books to our children.