In the Brazilian's Debt(40)
This was all so cuttingly routine, when she had thought the past few hours life-changing. Chico didn’t say anything else. He didn’t even trouble to grab a robe. Why would he? This was his house, his bedroom—his rules. Naked and glorious, he headed for the bathroom, grabbing his clothes on the way. Quite suddenly she felt like an intruder in his bedroom.
He was back while she was still giving herself a stiff talking-to, and all her stern resolve to get up and get at it, and just put this behind her, fell away at the sight of him. Dripping water and magnificent with just a towel around his waist, Chico was completely relaxed as he rubbed his hair dry, while she was still trying to work out how to behave in this new role of his temporary bedmate.
‘You don’t have to come down right away, Lizzie,’ he said, turning to her as if sensing her indecision. ‘Take your time. You can sleep for a while, if you want to.’
How thoughtful. She almost laughed. Real life was such a cruel spectator of vulnerable moments and now she was painfully conscious of her nakedness and quickly pulled up a sheet to cover herself.
‘I shouldn’t think anyone will notice who’s at the party and who’s left by now,’ Chico remarked. ‘So I wouldn’t give it a second thought, if I were you. I’ll go down before you, and you follow,’ he suggested. ‘It will be easier for you that way.’
How considerate, she thought dryly. ‘Good idea.’
He gave her a stare, and for a moment she wondered if he’d seen through her to the uncertainty beneath her confident words, but then he relaxed and started tugging on his clothes. Job done, Chico was moving on to his next project, and she was a fool if she thought what had happened between them meant anything more to him than that.
She tried to settle back and then sat up again. She wasn’t going to lie here, feeling sorry for herself. And she wasn’t going to hide away as if she’d done something wrong. They were consenting adults, consenting, and it had been fun.
It had been a lot more than fun for Lizzie, but this wasn’t the fairy-tale fantasy of her teenage years, but the inevitable consequence of two healthy adults taking advantage of some privacy on a hot, sultry night.
So, if that was all it was, why did she hurt like hell?
Leaping out of bed, she grabbed her clothes. She didn’t need to hold them in front of her as any sort of shield as Chico didn’t even look at her. Reaching for his boots, he stepped into them. He still hadn’t fastened his jeans and his hard, ripped torso was still naked. She felt a violent bolt of lust and subdued it. That was her body talking. Her mind had more sense. And, for sure, Chico had no such thoughts in his head. The sex had been good, but it was done, and he had other things to be getting on with. Fastening his belt, he shrugged on his shirt, and did up what few buttons were left, then shot her a dry look. ‘You owe me a shirt.’
‘You owe me a blouse,’ she countered, her swift riposte hiding a heart that was breaking in two. Yes. This had been every bit the mistake she had anticipated. Did she regret it? No. And she would hide her feelings from Chico, whatever it took. One perfect night, remember?
‘If you see Danny when you go down, will you tell her I’m okay?’
Chico raised a brow as he opened a drawer and reached for a clean top. ‘If I see her.’ He shrugged the top on and then made for the door without another word.
What did she expect him to say? That was great—we must do it again some time? She’d walked willingly into this situation, Lizzie accepted as the door closed behind Chico. And now she was going to see him every day until the end of the course, so she would have to live with the consequences of what she’d done. It was hard to believe she’d been so strong, so certain when she set out for Brazil, and now she’d thrown her whole future into jeopardy.