It was the most sophisticated home she'd ever seen. Elegant, certainly, and very expensive, but severe and about as friendly and warm as an ice pick.
As Diogo closed the door behind her, she idly rubbed her bruised wrist. It was still sore, but no longer had the same sharp pain.
“You are hurt?” he demanded.
“It's nothing. I fell on my wrist earlier—”
“Let me see,” he ordered.
She reluctantly held out her hand, protesting, “It's much better now. Really. You don't need to…”
Then he touched her, and she sucked in her breath. Fire spread up and down her body as he examined her, gently moving her hand to the right and left.
“Your wrist isn't broken,” he said, releasing her. “I spent ten years learning capoeira on the streets. I can recognize a break or sprain. You have neither. But if it hurts, I will call the doctor and she can…”
“No, really,” she breathed. “I'm fine.” She couldn't stop looking at his handsome face. At the sharp lines of his jaw, his high cheekbones, the slightly crooked nose that gave him the hard look of a warrior. His sensual mouth. The lips that she longed to feel against her skin…
He looked up at her, and his dark eyes seared her.
“What do you want first?”
First? She licked her lips. She wanted him to make love to her with heat and urgency. To whisper hoarsely against her skin that he wanted her and only her forever. To say he wanted to be a good, loving father to their baby, and that he would always, always…
“Ellie?”
“What?” Nervously, she tucked her hair behind her ear. “What do I…?”
“Breakfast first? Or—no.” Cursing himself under his breath, he shook his head in sudden decision. “I'm being stupid. Of course, we should start by taking off your clothes.”
It was as if he'd read her mind. “My…clothes?”
What was she thinking? No, no, no! She couldn't allow this to happen!
Clutching the wet wedding dress against her body, she backed away. Every step she took left a wet trail against his floor. “I won't be your mistress, Diogo,” she said aloud, willing herself to believe it. “I won't be your latest one-night stand!”
“Why do you think that's what I want?” he asked quietly.
Her heart turned over in her chest. He wanted more? She licked her dry lips. “What else could it be?”
“You're pregnant with my child. I want you…to be comfortable and warm. You're soaking wet, querida, chilled to the bone. You need a hot shower. Breakfast. Dry clothes.”
Of course. Ellie wanted to kick herself. Of course that was what he'd meant. Did she actually think he was desperate to seduce her? Now there was a laugh! Diogo could have any perfect woman he wanted—and not just the vapid beauties, but smart, gorgeous women who ran their own businesses and had college degrees. Not high school dropouts like Ellie! Her cheeks went hot with humiliation.
He came toward her, reaching for her dress.
“No.” She stumbled back from him, suddenly unwilling to let him touch her. “I don't need your help.”
He snorted. “That wedding dress weighs more than you do. Come here.”
With calm arrogance, he reached for her.
Like a coward, she turned and ran blindly into the next room. She saw a round wall of windows overlooking Copacabana Beach and the Avenida Atlântica far below. In the center of the room was a bed, large, white and stark.
His bedroom. She bit a knuckle in consternation. The last place she wanted to be! Whirling around, she tried to escape but he was standing in the door. She started to shut the door in his face, but he easily blocked her.
“Obrigado, querida,” he said with a sensual smile. “This will be much easier.”
He came forward and pulled her tightly against his body, then unzipped the back of her gown. Ellie's damp skin felt suddenly cold against the air. Her body felt light, freed of the heavy weight of her dress as he pulled the thick, wet skirts down to her thighs with a single hard yank. She watched yards of taffeta fall to her feet.
And she realized she was standing in front of him with nothing but a white silk bra and panties that clung transparently to her skin.
With a gasp, she tried to cover her breasts with one arm and panties with the other. He gave her a smug, masculine smile.
“I can see you naked anytime I want, Ellie,” he said, sounding amused. “All I have to do is close my eyes.”
He was laughing at her modesty! A flash of anger went through her.
“You have so many women in your bed,” she snapped, “I'm sure it's someone else you're picturing. I'm not a bit worried!”
“I see,” he murmured silkily. “Surely you're not jealous, querida?”