The Dreaming Of... Collection. Оливия Гейтс
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She pushed against him harder, making him release her this time. “How do you do this trick? When you appear to read my mind? It must be your handiest one in getting stupid chicks like me to fall in your arms.”
His lips thinned disapprovingly. “First, you’re the very opposite of stupid. Second, I’m not interested in ‘chicks.’ I want only you to fall in my arms. Third, it’s not a trick. We are on the same wavelength.”
“Yeah, sure. How nice. Well, I can’t say it was nice seeing you again. I would have rather broken a toe.”
Knowing she sounded childish, she flounced away. He fell into step with her at once.
“Come with me. We need to talk.” She turned to blast him and he added, “And to have each other.”
His words, his tone painted such erotic images—Ellie winced with longing.
But she needed to settle one thing. “Listen—about that. Thank you for what you did last night. Or what you didn’t do. Whatever the reason you did pull back, I’m grateful.”
He brooded down at her. “I told you why I pulled back.”
“Yeah, for me...and all that. I said I don’t care why you did it, but I’m thankful anyway. It would have been a far worse mess if you hadn’t. But you can drop the act now.”
“This is no act.”
She exhaled in exasperation. “I don’t blame you for walking away, okay? It’s what every man should do when he realizes he’s dealing with a naive fool who’ll be more trouble than she’s worth. It’s only natural you’d go for the more beautiful, sophisticated woman who actually looks like she’s out of her teens, who doesn’t say, ‘Oops, I didn’t meant to go that far that fast,’ then ask you to postpone taking your pleasure until she’s ready. But what I don’t understand is why you’re back. If the redhead you spent the night with didn’t satisfy you, and you’re wishing you’d stuck with your first, if inferior, choice, I’m sorry. My temporary insanity has already lifted.”
“I spent the night alone, suffering the most agonizing sustained arousal I’ve ever experienced. And you were and will remain my only choice. After all, I choose only the absolute best.”
God, how did he do this? How did he sound so...convincing?
Wanting to smack herself for wanting to believe him still, she smirked. “A likely story. But whatever the real one is, just leave me alone. As you partner so unkindly pointed out, I’m not in your league.”
“Eliana...”
“Taxi!”
She streaked away from his side as the cab she’d yelled for skidded to a halt, as usual barely missing her. Cabdrivers in Brazil had perfected the art of almost hitting their passengers while stopping to pick them up.
Before Rafael could detain her, she’d jumped into the cab, counting on the driver to make it impossible for him to catch up. The driver didn’t disappoint her. Even before she told him her address, he screeched away as if to continue a rally race.
She snatched a look backward as they shot through the mayhem that was Rio’s evening traffic and saw Rafael standing like a monolith, feet planted apart, hands fisted at his sides, looking the image of volcanic frustration.
Biting down on the urge to yell for the driver to take her back to him, she slumped in her seat. Buckling her seat belt, she tried to let being knocked about by the nerve-racking driving and the subsequent cacophony of horns and road rage distract her.
But his face was all she saw; his taste remained on her tongue, his breath still flaying her cheeks, his hands and hardness imprinted on every inch of her flesh.
She groaned with the severity of the phantom sensations, with craving the real thing. But she’d put an end to any possibility of that. He must have expected she’d fall into his arms again, and now that she hadn’t, he’d walk away. For good this time. Which was what she hoped...because any more exposure would compound the damage, scar her permanently.
She suddenly hurtled forward before being brutally yanked back by her seat belt. It took her petrified moments to realize the accident she’d been anticipating hadn’t finally happened. It was only the taxi coming to a violent stop in front of her apartment building in Ipanema.
After paying the driver, and thanking him for scaring her enough to take her mind off Rafael, she left the taxi on jellified legs. They hadn’t solidified much by the time she entered her one-bedroom apartment on the twenty-sixth floor.
She’d fallen in love with this place the moment she’d seen it. A beachfront unit with wonderful northern exposure, the apartment was high enough to afford her magnificent views of Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas in daylight, and of the glittering Rio skyline at night.
Finding this place had mitigated her reluctance to be in Brazil. She hadn’t wanted to move here, but two months ago, her father had begged her to join him while he pursued the partnership with Rafael. She’d agreed on the condition that she wouldn’t stay with him in his villa in Copacabana. He’d been crestfallen, since he’d thought this would be a chance to have her back in his nest after she’d moved out of his Marin County home over a year ago.
Knowing how much he missed being a father hen to her, she’d almost weakened on the living arrangements. But as long as he had her at home, he was content. She didn’t want him content. She wanted him lonely, so he’d do something about the gem he had right under his nose, the gorgeous fifty-two-year-old Isabella Da Costa, who’d been his loyal PA for the past four years.
Whenever she encouraged him, her father reiterated that he was a one-woman man, and he’d lost that woman. And every time she pointed out that twenty years was too long to be alone, he insisted he wasn’t alone. He had her. So she made sure he didn’t, at least half of the time. Knowing how dependent he was on her for companionship, she hoped it would force him to look for it elsewhere.
But even though she’d been making headway, almost getting him to admit his attraction to Isabella, he kept insisting it wouldn’t be fair to a woman to give her less than the whole heart he’d given her mother. But she knew Isabella would settle for any corner of his heart, and she was certain that once he left the door to his heart ajar, his smitten PA would take it over completely. He was the most loving man on earth and in time he’d give his all to the woman who loved him.
So here she was, staying out of his way, hoping he’d get it on with Isabella. She wasn’t giving up hope. And neither was Isabella.
But up until last night, she’d always felt she was the older one, dealing with an emotionally ambivalent youngster. Being untouched by passion until then had made her coolly cerebral as she sat in judgment, giving sage advice.
Then Rafael had happened.
Now everything she knew about herself and the world had been rewritten, giving her true empathy for her father’s turmoil. If only she hadn’t had to gain that insight at such a steep price.
Leaning on the door after she closed it, she looked around the foyer. She’d miss this place. But she’d leave right away. Without telling her father. Once back in San Francisco, she’d explain everything,