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He found a vacant spot and smoothly pulled the car in. “You were right the first time.”
“But it’s closing in—” She glanced at the clock on the dash. “Ten minutes.”
“Not for us it isn’t.”
He switched off the engine and turned to face her, sliding up his sunglasses. His expression was casually neutral, but she sensed something else in those dark, hooded eyes. A question? No, he was waiting for her. She could feel the expectancy heat the air, spreading gently as his gaze held hers.
She hadn’t given him an answer to the Portugal thing.
A small bubble of excitement rose inside her. An actual trip overseas! She’d finally get to see another country, another culture, experience the sights, the smells, the tastes. She’d have a chance to observe color and movement, to stretch her drawing skills.
How could she pass this up?
She nodded, biting down on her lip to stop a goofy grin from forming. “Okay. I’ll go.”
His expression transformed for a brief second, his smile widening as he pulled the keys from the ignition. “Good.”
She hadn’t missed that look: a flash of elation before he’d glanced away. He was happy she’d said yes, and boy, that thrilled her way more than it should.
She swung her door open. “So are you going to tell me why we’re here?”
He shook his head and reached into the back of the car. “First, you’ll need these.”
Odd. With a curious smile, she opened the paper bag he offered, then stuck her hand in.
She gasped, slowly pulling out a thick, A5-sized leather-bound journal, then a set of Derwent sketch pencils, followed by a box of top-quality HB leads.
“Matt,” she breathed, taking in the wonderful smell of new paper and wood before refocusing on him. “You don’t have to buy me stuff.”
He shrugged but AJ could see the satisfaction in his smile. “There’s more.”
“What?”
“I’ll show you.”
* * *
AJ stood in front of Van Gogh’s famous Sunflowers painting and let the beauty of the moment wash over her in stunned silence.
A private showing. For her. That was just... He was...
For the first time in her life, someone actually got her.
It was way too much.
She quickly blinked away a sudden well of tears, then took a deep breath while her heart kept on pounding.
“The Starry Night,” she said softly, staring at the gorgeous swirl of blue night sky scattered with yellow stars. “Oh, the self-portrait. Irises. Oh, wow, that’s Café Terrace at Night!” She gave a small clap and surged forward until she was standing right in front of the painting, taking in the bold strokes and rainbow colors.
“I have a poster of this on my bedroom wall at home. This is amazing. How did you manage to pull this off?”
He shrugged. “I know people.”
“Well, thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
She knew she was grinning like a crazy woman but she couldn’t help it. Joy welled up, overwhelming her, propelling her forward.
A second later she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.
His arms automatically went around her, pulling her deep into his warmth, and when she eased back, the kiss was inevitable. A breathless, hot kiss that AJ wasn’t sure she’d initiated. Either way, she welcomed it, welcomed his mouth, his hands, his chest pressed up against hers. And when he finally broke away with a soft groan, her disappointment echoed his.
“Take your time,” he said thickly, taking a step back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “We have two hours.”
She nodded, unable to speak, then quickly turned to the journal she’d left on the leather lounge. She fumbled with the pencil box, but she finally managed to get one out. He’d not only bought her art supplies, but he’d also had the freaking art gallery open just for her.
Whoa, hold on a second. She suddenly panicked.
This was just Matt being thoughtful. She’d mentioned it days ago and he’d remembered. That was all. Yet she still couldn’t stop a thread of delight spreading through her belly. Something that felt this good couldn’t possibly be bad, right?
Right.
She pressed her lips together and opened the journal, smoothed out the unlined pristine page and switched her focus to the amazing art before her.
* * *
The next few days passed in a blur, and by the time Saturday rolled around again, AJ felt like she was about to explode from the anticipation.
After the art gallery, they’d eaten a late dinner at the Quay, then he’d dropped her off at Zac’s apartment. His gentle good-night kiss seared her lips, and she’d practically floated to the top floor.
The routine was set for the next few days: Matt would call in the morning to let her know what time he’d be by, then when the time rolled around, he’d pick her up and they’d go out to dinner. AJ asked about his travels and his job, listening with single-minded attention, determined not to stare at his mouth, those expressive hands. A couple of times she must’ve lapsed because he’d suddenly stop midsentence and give her such a heated look that it made her skin go all prickly.
The first few days they’d been the picture of restraint. He’d taken her back to Zac’s apartment, kissed her on the cheek and left. But after the third night, his patience had obviously worn thin. She’d turned to say good-night and found herself caught up in a rush of lips, eager fingers and panting breath. When Matt finally stepped back with a groan, his frustrated expression echoed her own.
“A suggestion, not an unbreakable rule,” AJ muttered in the cool silence now, staring at the shadowed bedroom ceiling. Dr. Adams had confirmed it today. She was due for her first procedure in two weeks’ time and a lapse beforehand certainly wouldn’t ruin her chances.
So what was the problem?
With a grunt, she rolled over on her side and punched the pillow.
She liked spending time with him. Liked holding his hand. Liked ending the evening with a kiss that left her wanting more. This time, their relationship wasn’t just about sex, even if the desperate need for it was killing her.
And he hadn’t pushed.
Now here she was, about to spend a week with him, and suddenly all she could think about was his slow smile as he pushed her hair behind one ear. His warm mouth as he kissed her.
“Damn it!” She groaned and pressed her thighs together.
Five days. It’d probably kill her. And after her first procedure, her opportunities to make love would be zero.
She sighed. She’d drawn a line and unless she crossed it herself, she was pretty sure Matt wouldn’t.
It was up to her.
* * *
They boarded the plane an hour before takeoff. AJ was introduced to Carly, Matt’s assistant, then his head of security, James Decker, a brash American dressed all in black with a charming grin and biceps the size of an off-season bodybuilder’s.
“Nice to meet you, AJ,” he said before glancing past her to his boss. “So...” He waggled a finger between her and Matt. “How’d you two meet?”
“I—”
“We need to board so the pilot can do his checks,” Matt interrupted, picking up AJ’s suitcase. “You have everything?”
Decker’s grin lingered. “I do. Do you?”
“Yep.”
A cold wind screamed over the tarmac, and AJ shoved her hands deep in her pockets. There was subtext there, but she couldn’t work out exactly what.
“So let’s go.” Matt nodded for her to head up the steps first and she eagerly ascended, the brand-new Australian passport burning a hole in her jeans pocket.
* * *
Whatever she was expecting was nothing compared to the reality of Faro. Bustling, colorful Faro with its outdoor markets, cobblestoned streets and friendly locals. Sure, the five-star eighteenth-century Monte Do Casal country house with its pristine walls, sparkling pool and expansive gardens had all sorts of indulgent offerings, from poolside service to massages and facials. But she was more interested in what was going on outside, eager to experience the sights and sounds and smells of the town. Dressed in a loose knee-length skirt and tank top, she managed to secure a table at a café on a busy main road and spent a few hours sketching before she decided to explore.
Discovering a new city alone was a familiar routine, one she’d done since she was seventeen. Yet as she wandered the streets, soaking up every little detail, a niggling thought struck. Matt should be here to see this.
She paused at a bodega, peering into the smoky darkness with a frown. That was silly—he’d probably seen this city a dozen times before. Probably not alone, either. Her frown deepened, only to freeze a second later.
Was she jealous? But she wasn’t the jealous type. Because that would mean...
“Senhorita would like to see our pretty gold rings?”
Her train of thought broken by the swarthy street vendor, she politely declined, shaking her head with an apologetic smile.
No. Getting attached was not part of the plan.
Not ever.
* * *
On the second day Matt declared his business concluded, gave Decker and Carly the rest of the week off and they moved out of their hotel.
They drove out of the city in a hired car and headed west on the A25 toward Lagos. The road hugged the coastline, and the view was nothing short of spectacular, with sheer cliff faces, sparkling blue water and lush vegetation. AJ practically hung out the window, engrossed in the breathless beauty of it all.
They got to Lagos in less than two hours. To her surprise, Matt had booked them into a pensione instead of a flashy hotel. They took the top floor while the owners occupied the ground level.
The house was clean, with a private bathroom and a balcony with stunning rooftop views and a view of the main marketplace a couple of streets away. And just like the expensive Faro hotel, it had separate beds.
When AJ saw this, she was both relieved and disappointed. He’d booked both places and couldn’t have sent a clearer message than separate beds.
Matt hired a motorbike and they spent the next four days sightseeing. They drove up into the mountains to a small church high in the hills. They explored the street sellers, visited the local Lagos museum. On their fourth day, they spent hours on the beach in comfortable silence, where she sketched the glorious sunset while he lazed on a blanket next to her. When the light finally waned, she glanced up to find him studying her so intensely that her mouth suddenly went dry.
The streetlights flickered on, casting them in a hazy glow as AJ slowly replaced her pencils in her case and snapped the lid shut with a sigh. “That’s it. Light’s gone.”
Matt nodded and stood, brushing off his pants, then offering his hand. Without hesitation she took it, and his warm fingers wrapped around hers, an intimacy that never failed to make her blood quicken.
“Angel...”
“Hmm?” She looked up, waiting, but he said nothing, just devoured her with those dark eyes until finally he glanced away.
“We should go and eat. Our flight’s early and you still haven’t packed.”
When they got back to the pensione, she changed into a strapless white cotton dress with buttons from neck to the knee-length hem. She paired it with an azure cardigan, knowing the color made her eyes pop. Her hair was up this time, casually messy and drawn back at the nape. A pair of dangly blue stones—a birthday present from Emily—hung from her ears and her butterfly necklace rested at her throat.
From the look in Matt’s eyes, she’d made the right choice.
He offered his hand and she automatically took it, taking pleasure in that small contact as they walked to a restaurant on the corner. The place was decorated as a rustic street, with cobbled floors, skillfully painted stone hacienda walls and overarching olive trees in huge earthenware pots. Tables were scattered throughout, circular booths ringed the outer edges, and at the far end, a fully stocked bar was seeing a brisk trade.
They were led to a secluded booth, their only light two candles on the table. She slid in first and Matt followed until they were hip to hip. His warmth scorched her thigh, and despite her hunger, she wanted nothing more than to touch him, run her fingers over that long smooth forearm, knead the muscle beneath his skin.
“Does the butterfly mean something?”
She blinked. “Hmm?”
“Your necklace.” Her hand went to the pendant. “You always wear it. Is it special?”
“Yes.” She stroked the edge of one wing with her finger. “Emily gave it to me for my thirtieth birthday.” She paused. “It means reinvention. Regeneration.”
“The metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly.”
She nodded.
“I like it.” He reached out and gently ran his thumb over the mother-of-pearl wings. “Did you reinvent yourself often?”
“A few times. I—” She stopped.
“Let me guess,” he said softly, finally releasing the necklace. “Your past is off-limits, right?”
She nodded, feeling foolish even though she knew that wasn’t Matt’s intention.
Tell him.
She glanced away, skin prickling under his silent scrutiny. “My mother was sixteen and pregnant with me when she was kicked out of her home. We lived off welfare until she hooked up with my stepfather, a delightful man who got her addicted to booze and drugs.” She stopped, face flaming. Too much. Way too much. Yet something in his face, in that open, nonjudgmental expression, made her forge on. “Parents are supposed to look after their kids, not make them lie and steal and dread every knock on the door. But we survived.” She managed a shaky smile. “Well, I guess Emily’s doing better than just surviving. She always was the big believer in the glorious fairy-tale of love.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t believe in love?”
