had a feeling his real motivation in wanting to leave was to avoid the toast maker from a few minutes ago. The same man he’d been trying to evade earlier? It had to be his father. Or stepfather, if she was reading the signs correctly.
Did she want to stay? He was obviously giving her an out.
She should take it and run.
And do what? Sit here all by herself while the happy couple—and everyone else—celebrated all around her?
No. She deserved a little bit of fun too, especially after all she had been through in the last several weeks.
“I’m not really interested in staying. Besides, I need to show you where the place is, remember?”
He studied her for a minute. “Are you sure? I probably won’t be in any condition to drive you home afterward.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl, and this is a very small town.”
“Let me tell Adam I’m leaving, then. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She had a feeling he wanted to make sure his friend could handle things with the older man, if they got out of hand.
A minute later, he was back beside her chair. “Okay, he cut me loose.”
They ducked out of the same entrance they’d come in at. By now, it was dark, the lights from the barn spilling out onto the ground. When they reached the parking area, he stopped in front of a sleek silver sports car.
“Are you sure you want to ride with me?”
There was something loaded about that question. The memory of his shoulder pressed tight against hers rolled through her mind, along with a warm, prickly sense of need.
This was a man who could help her forget the ache of loss in a way that no amount of champagne or Brazil’s famed sugarcane alcohol, cachaça, ever could. If she dared to let him.
And suddenly she realized that’s exactly what she wanted. To forget. For a few hours. Or an entire night. Whichever one he was offering.
“I’m very sure. I’ll ride with you.”
He paused for a second, then leaned down and brushed his lips across hers, the briefest of touches that left her trembling and wanting more. So much more.
When he opened the passenger side door, he murmured, “Buckle up, Sara, because if I’m reading this correctly, things could get very, very bumpy before the night is over.”
She sank into the plush leather seat and clicked her seat belt into place, yanking it tight. “Is that a promise?”
“It is now.” His fingers feathered across her cheek and were gone. “And I never go back on my word.”
* * *
It was all a blur.
Sebastian Texeira’s arm stretched to the side and found…nothing. Sitting up, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair and glanced at the pillow on the bed next to him.
She was gone. Not even the indentation of her head remained. Should he be relieved or upset?
He wasn’t sure of anything right now.
Deep purple curtains hid the view outside. And the same gaudy color was splashed with a generous hand throughout the room.
Damn. A motel.
But it had been the closest place to the bar. Not an accident, obviously.
He groaned and fell back against his own pillow. He hadn’t even had the decency to take her to a respectable place?
The motels in his country were all used for the same thing. Cheap encounters at a cheap price. Normally the place where affairs took place.
The type of place his dad would have holed up for a few hours.
His father had been the reason he’d been hell bent on getting away from the wedding as soon as possible. He’d had no desire to talk to his parents. And that toast his dad had given had been cringe-worthy.
What he hadn’t expected was for Sara Moreira to offer to go with him. Or to climb into the taxi beside him as he’d headed for this place. Which meant his car was still at the liquor joint.
He swallowed and closed his eyes. Except as soon as he did, images of the frantic press of mouths and bodies moving deep into the night flashed behind his eyelids. He snapped them back open.
He lifted the purple bedspread and peered underneath.
Still naked. Damn.
Where were his clothes? He scanned the room.
There. On the dresser. His formalwear was neatly stacked and folded.
Relief was beginning to outweigh regret and the throbbing in his head. It was easier this way. She obviously didn’t want to be found here with him. And that was fine with him. He’d rather her dad not find out about this at all. Although Antônio Moreira was no longer his patient, it could still prove to be awkward.
Climbing out of bed and stalking toward the bathroom, he showered quickly, using the tiny bottles of products he found on the counter. They were untouched, the seals intact until he opened them. She’d left in a hurry, evidently.
He finished and toweled off, his nerves beginning to settle as he padded back into the bedroom.
It was okay. Yes, he’d had a few too many drinks. Yes, he’d shared a couple of hours at a motel with a beautiful woman.
That this was not his normal behavior didn’t matter. What was done was done.
The shock of his sister and his best friend deciding they were “in love” had still not worn off, almost a year later. He’d kept thinking it was just a phase, that they would get over it. They hadn’t. And as of yesterday they’d sealed the deal. They were married.
He shook off the thoughts, snagging his clothes from the dresser and jerking them on. He should have at least thought to bring along some jeans to change into.
Grabbing his wallet from the heart-shaped nightstand, his lip curled in disgust at the gaudy furnishings, an over-the-top nod to what the room was designed for, from the cheerful wicker basket of condoms on the dresser to the…
His gaze jerked back.
Condoms.
And three torn Cellophane wrappers.
He blew out a breath. At least they’d been protected. Both he and Sara were free and clear. And that’s the way he intended to keep it.
No weddings or rings in his future—he was strictly a best man kind of guy. Although as he’d held that ring over Sara’s hand, he’d had the weirdest sense of déjà vu. Only here in the motel room, there was no ‘déjà’ and no ‘vu’. There was only him.
No wife. No children.
And
