Manhattan Holiday Page 9

  Refocused now, and resolved to keep the rest of the weekend all business, she shook off her momentary brush with wedding-bell-insanity and washed her face, then applied moisturizer to her skin and brushed her teeth. Lying in bed in the moonlit darkness, she watched the sheer drapes float lazily with motion, while an ocean breeze slipped through the open windows. Outside, she guessed he was swimming by himself and no doubt cursing his rotten luck at picking her for a wife.

  They were so different, as much as the dark of winter was to the bright summer, or the translucent moon to the burning sun. So why did his touch make her feel so good? Why did having him sit next to her at dinner feel so right? Why did she feel like crying when she thought of leaving him some day? Her heart ached wildly at the prospect of what could happen between them if they let it.

  But she knew nothing was going to happen. He didn’t want a wife, kids and everything that went with that kind of commitment. He lived on the edge. Work hard—play harder. There wasn’t room for the burden of a family. He wore his bachelorhood like a banner across his broad chest. He was also Bressler and Bressler’s top client, and she didn’t like the idea of mixing business and pleasure. She’d already crossed the line with the whole temporary marriage deal.

  Besides, I’m getting over a breakup. I need more time before I fall for another guy…right?

  She snuggled down in the bed and thought back to how his tawny brown eyes looked on the jet while he held those earbuds in her ears. He’d been close enough for her to smell his scent. It was all male and sexy and drew her to him. She also recalled the brief kiss they’d shared in front of his sister and mother in the foyer earlier. It’d been rough at first, then surprisingly gentle and tender, teasingly so, until she provoked him by sliding her tongue against his. So unlike the wildly heated and uncontrolled kisses they’d shared in his apartment. She sighed longingly, finding that with Roman Vasquez nothing made sense. The only thing she knew for sure was the heart-pounding awareness she felt each time he was near her and the strange, deep ache in her heart each time he looked at her with those fathomless eyes.

  Reality check, please.

  This was business. All the bizarre feelings she was experiencing toward him were simply a reaction to the wedding buzz. Simple explanation: she was getting herself pulled into the excitement of the holiday weekend. Tomorrow she would marry him, and then they could thankfully part ways.

  Then her life could be normal again.

  Oh, yeah, just keep telling yourself that.

  Chapter Eight

  April awoke, the fresh intermingling scent of ocean and exotic flowers floating through her open French doors. She was surprised she’d slept at all. An intruding knock sounded on her bedroom door, and she begrudgingly forced herself into sitting position. She could only hope it wasn’t a certain brooding contractor with more outrageous demands, such as a morning of skydiving to her death.

  “Come in,” she murmured, with absolutely no life to her voice. She was still pre-coffee, so this was the best he was going to get.

  Instead Emily poked her head inside the bedroom and threw her a wide, overly bright smile. “Morning! Glad you’re up. Get dressed in your best bikini and meet me by the pool for breakfast.”

  April glanced at the bedside clock and winced. “Emily, it’s barely eight in the morning.”

  “I know, but it’s our only chance to be lazy poolside today. This afternoon the caterers and florist will be all over the pool area setting up, and besides that, my mother has us booked at her spa all afternoon for a day of beauty.”

  April grinned ruefully. “Great. I can use all the beauty treatments I can get.” A flash of guilt sprang through her system. “Really, Emily. This is too much. I feel awful that your mother is doing all of this wedding hoopla for nothing.”

  Emily tossed her long dark hair over one slim shoulder and shrugged. “Trust me. My mother is in hog heaven planning this wedding. You should have seen her when she found out Roman was going to elope. Heaven help anyone within earshot. No way is anyone going to cheat my dear sainted mother out of seeing her son getting married. Now get up and get your swimsuit on. Meet you at the pool in ten minutes.” She went to close the door and paused. “Oh, and happy wedding day!”

  “Ugh…” was her only response.

  With another laugh, Emily closed the door as April wearily dropped back onto the pillow and released another exasperated groan. She stared at the ceiling with a ball of apprehension in her stomach. Dreading the day ahead, and the inevitable that was to happen after nightfall, she pulled herself out of bed and dug in her suitcase for one of the bikinis she’d brought along. She quickly donned a simple red one and along with the matching sarong, spent a few minutes in her private bath to tidy up, before heading out to the patio.

  The house was blissfully quiet as she made her way downstairs. Someone had switched the lights on the big tree in the entry, along with the rest of the holiday lights trimming the various banisters and ledges, and the massive Christmas tree in the living room. The homey festive touches momentarily soothed her jagged nerves and reminded her that once the holidays were over, her life would be back on track—minus one tall, dark, pushy male.

  Tentative, she paused at the French doors that opened out to the pool area. With caution she glanced about, wondering where in the world Roman Vasquez was this morning. To her relief, only Emily lay next to the pool in a padded lounge chair with a delicious-looking Mimosa in one hand and a magazine in the other, her already darkly tanned body sunning under the bright morning rays.

  April made her way over and slipped off her sarong, sighing with sheer delight as she sank onto the lounger next to her friend. “Have I gone to Heaven?” she questioned, pulling on her sunglasses to fight off the morning sun that bounced off the glistening blue waters of the pool. She couldn’t help but marvel at the glorious day. Birds chirped in unison as they flittered about the fragrant orange trees and flowering azalea shrubs. Boats sailed on crisp waves made from other passing watercraft. In the distance she could hear a lawnmower and smell dewy fresh-cut grass. It was all so different from her life in New York. If she were there now it would be cold and snowing, and she would be huddled in bed.

  Emily smiled at her comment and motioned to the pitcher of mimosa, coffee, and rolls placed between them on a side table. “Please, help yourself,” she offered.

  April sat up and poured steaming coffee into a china cup before biting into a delicious flaky croissant. She sipped her coffee and finished her roll before leaning back into her chair. “Where’s Jake this morning?”

  Emily flipped over onto her stomach before answering. “He went golfing with Roman and the guys. They wanted to get a few rounds in this morning.”

  She sighed with relief. “Oh, well, that’s good.” Secure with the knowledge Emily’s brother was thankfully absent, she finally relaxed, and enjoyed herself like she hadn’t in a long time. Now and then the two women talked about work, gossiped about people they knew, and discussed fashion between glasses of orange juice/champagne-laden mimosas. Only occasionally did they mention some aspect of the wedding. If the topic of the impending nuptials hadn’t come up at all, April would have felt as if she was on vacation for real.

  “Miss Emily, phone call for you. It’s your Aunt Maria. She want your mother but Mrs. Lana is at hairdresser this morning, so she ask for you,” the maid Lola requested, her Spanish accent thick.

  Emily groaned and rose from her lounge chair. “Thank you, Lola,” she told her, wrapping herself in a cover-up. “Be back in a few minutes.”

  April murmured a response and sat up to reach for her drink, feeling the need for more false fortitude. At the same time a movement to her left caught her eye. She paused and sputtered loudly before full-out choking on her second early-bird cocktail as Roman Vasquez walked toward her with nothing on but a pair of long board shorts.

  A look of angry concern flashed on his face as he moved forward and immediately patted her firmly on the back
. “You’re the only woman I know who can get into trouble lying in a chair sipping a fruit drink.”

  She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the fact that the man was almost naked in front of her for the second time in less than forty-eight hours. “It’s your fault I’m hitting the hard stuff at nine a.m.,” she wheezed.

  “Marrying me is making you feel the need to get wasted first thing in the morning? Man, what are you gonna be like after the wedding?”

  She laughed at his dark, somewhat self-deprecating humor and toasted him with her glass. “I hazard to guess?”

  He barked out a laugh, while she downed the rest of her drink and tried to ignore the fact he was looking her over from head to toe and back again. The man blatantly took in her minuscule bikini top made up of two patches of material that barely covered her round, overly full breasts, before moving to eye her narrowed ribcage that flared out to the curve of her hips again covered in the barest of red material. Finally his gaze traveled the lengths of her long, well-shaped legs.

  Typical man. Although she felt like a hypocrite, realizing she’d been watching him the same way. She felt her face flush warmly as he took the seat next to her, stretching out as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Lounging by the pool, tipsy, wearing a bikini, hmmm? Kinda like this new Miami April,” he murmured smoothly, his voice teasingly gruff.

  “Don’t get too used to Miami April, since she’ll get packed away the minute we get back to New York,” she snipped, taking off her sunglasses. “I thought you were playing golf?” She couldn’t help but look at him. He was overwhelming to a woman’s senses as he lay there unshaven, his sleek, dark hair tousled and his swarthy skin gleaming in the morning light. Determined, she fought down the memories of how good it felt to be entangled in his strong arms.

  “Yeah, I was. But I got bored after nine holes. Jake and my buddies stayed to play eighteen.” He looked away and closed his eyes against the sun, leaning back to hunker down next to her for who knew how long.

  She turned away, only to turn back and sneak a glance at him. Decisively disheveled and scruffy, he lay next to her tanned, muscled, hairy, and so unlike his suave New York image. Since their arrival in Miami, he was showing more and more of the rugged persona that was Roman Vasquez. She found herself reluctantly comparing the two sides of him and couldn’t make up her mind which one she favored more.

  Hello! Does it matter?

  I know, I know. But if I had to pick one…hmmm? Right now I’d go with semi-naked tough guy.

  Business, April. Remember this is business, and don’t forget the hot stud next to you is responsible for this whole mess, besides making you want to get sloshed poolside before noon.

  With that reminder, a thread of annoyance skimmed through her. “This whole wedding deal is a bit much, don’t you think?” He ignored her completely. Undaunted, she soldiered on. “Do you know your mother is having live music here tonight? Do you have any idea how many people she has invited?” He continued his silent treatment. “Well, I’ll tell you—two hundred and thirty-four last minute guests. I also witnessed a ton of special flowers being delivered and carted inside. Plus there’s fancy Puerto Rican food things—that I can’t even pronounce—being prepared in the kitchen by a caterer and a staff of six. Do you know on my way through the foyer, I counted five huge boxes of candles? Boxes! This is getting out of control,” she moaned, needing to rile him a little as he lay next to her with his eyes still closed, looking all macho, dangerous, and totally unperturbed about the fact her whole life was about to change.

  Without opening his eyes, he answered with a nonchalant tone. “My mother is enjoying herself. I couldn’t stop her even if I wanted to.”

  She simmered some more before huffing a reply. “Some people take the act of getting married seriously. Obviously you have no conscience when it comes to what will happen later when we divorce.”

  He groaned loudly for effect and rose to perch on the edge of his lounge chair, facing her with a placating expression. “April, you have to trust me. Have some faith. Can you do that, please? We both need to keep all of this in perspective and think about those kids back at the hospital. In the end everything we’re doing will benefit a lot of sick children and their families. As for my mother, she’ll deal with it just fine. She’ll understand. If I have to, I’ll tell her the truth about the contract, hospital wing and about us if it comes to that. But in the meantime, can we agree to let her have her fun and deal with the consequences later?”

  Momentarily speechless, she nodded while pondering his speech. She was surprised that for once what he was saying made sense in the long run, even if the short term was ridiculously out of control. “You’re right. I should start to trust you on this or it won’t work. Fine. I’ll try to work on my trust issues and let your mother have her fun with the wedding business.” She acquiesced and smiled wistfully. “You know, I have to admit she really is doing an amazing job making this the wedding of my dreams. And I’m truly sorry for being so cranky. Can I chalk it up to wedding day nerves?”

  “No problem.” His dark gaze captured hers with a look of somber contemplation. “And regardless of what you think of me, I am serious about marriage. That’s why I haven’t gotten married yet.”

  “Really,” she stated skeptically. “Haven’t met the right girl yet?”

  He paused, seemingly now uncomfortable with the topic. “Yeah, something like that, I guess.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  He gave her a sly look. “No way in hell.”

  “Typical.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’re the typical male: afraid to commit or even talk about your feelings.”

  “Is that right?” He gave her a heart-pounding grin. “We’re talking now, and in ten hours I’ll be committing myself to you. Doesn’t that count?”

  She smothered a chuckle. “Not in the least.”

  “Why?”

  “Because our wedding is pretend and our feelings aren’t involved.”

  “Really? What if you were wrong?”

  Her heart stilled for a split second. “I don’t understand.”

  His grin faded and the air between them became charged with an electric vibe, like it had the other night in his apartment when he’d kissed her. His eyes held hers, time stood still, and for some crazy reason, she felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

  He dished out another killer smile, and the moment passed. “Forget what I said.” He reached across and grabbed her left hand, holding it up to inspect the engagement ring he’d placed there the day before as it sparkled brilliantly in sunlight. “So why did you wait so long to take his ring off?”

  His question threw her for a second. Hastily she pulled her hand from his and frowned at the turn the conversation was taking. “You must have been talking to Emily,” she accused him. “Is it really any of your business?”

  “You’re going to be my wife. I’d like to know why.”

  “Oh, please,” she fired back. “Don’t start sounding like a jealous husband.”

  “A man can’t be curious about his new wife?”

  She looked at him, noting he had that certain narrowed sexy expression on his face again like he’d had two nights ago in his apartment when charming her into marrying him. She had absolutely no willpower against it. “All right, if you must know…I didn’t want to have to explain to everyone at work what happened. Out of the office I took the ring off. Except the other day, I decided to take it off for good. Emily convinced me it was finally time to move on. I guess it was the last step I needed to take. The ring is now in my silverware drawer.”

  He watched her intently. “Are you over him?”

  She pondered his inquiry. “Working on it.”

  “Still in love with him?”

  “No…not anymore.”

  He was silent for a few seconds, mulling over her answer before he cleared his throat and served up yet another heart
-stopping smile. “Good. Then you can go jet-skiing with me,” he announced, bolting from his lounge chair to scoop her out of hers.

  She sputtered and her mouth dropped open. In one fast action he lifted her into his arms as if she were nothing more than one of the birds she’d been watching in the orange trees. Her arms automatically went around his brawny neck, and he held her almost-naked body tightly against his hard, warm one. Ignoring her protests in true caveman form, he carried her around the pool and down the steps to the white sand beach where two neon-yellow jet skis sat parked.

  Unceremoniously he dumped her on her feet in the warm, shallow water and reached for a life jacket. She made a put-out face. “And what says ‘good idea’ about this?”

  “Slip it on,” he instructed, pushing the vest at her as he fit his muscled arms into a larger one and zipped it up.

  She shook her head. “I can’t drive a jet ski! I’d be scared to death!” she cried, as he helped to slide her arms into the life vest.

  Momentarily distracted, she held her breath as his long brown fingers moved the zipper upward, tantalizingly slow, maneuvering it achingly inch by inch over her tiny bikini top and full breasts that spilled from the confines of the material. To make matters worse, her body involuntarily quivered with a rush of awareness, a tremor of wild, uncontrolled heat simultaneously racing through her. Even though his fingers didn’t make contact with her bare skin, she felt branded by his nearness.

  They were standing in warm water facing one another, and the world seemed to close in on them again. His hands were still on the zipper, and for a moment she was sure he was going to bend down and kiss her as he had the other night in his apartment. His dark eyes flashed with reckless naked desire, connecting with hers, making her uneven breath catch, while his strong jaw clenched and flexed as he wavered back and forth on his next move.