A Game Of Vows Part 6

He dipped his head, his lips a breath from hers. The breath fled her body, all her focus diverting to him. He was so close. So tempting. She found her face tilting so that her mouth could meet his, found herself giving in. Giving up.

His lips were hot, firm. And suddenly, he wasn't holding her to him anymore. She'd melted against him. His tongue slid against the seam of her mouth and she opened, heat flooding her, making her core tighten, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s feel heavy. He wrapped his other arm around her and she lifted her hands, pressing them on his hard chest.

He angled his head, deepening the kiss, tightening his hold on her. She whimpered and freed her hands, sighing when her b.r.e.a.s.t.s met his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair, holding him to her.

He devoured her, and she returned the favor. Never, not in their six months of marriage, had they kissed like this. Nothing more than proprietary pecks for public displays. A slightly more intimate kiss on their wedding day, since they'd had an audience.

But this was just them. Alone. And there was no control. No thought. She hadn't even tried to maintain her hold on either, she'd simply released them, and drowned in his kiss.

Then, just as suddenly as he'd embraced her, he released her, his eyes dark black pits that seemed to draw her in and repel her at the same time. And she realized she didn't have half the hold over him as he did over her.

"The point I was making," he bit out, his tone rough, strained, "is that you might not like me, and you might want to think that I'm somehow stupid, but we both know that I have the power here."

She took in a shaking breath. "You ... b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Don't forget it. I'm not a boy you can manipulate. I'm not the foolish idiot I once was who might have been distracted by a pretty face." He turned away from her, heading out the door. "Let me know what you find."

She didn't answer. She couldn't. As soon as he exited the office she pounded her fist on the desk, letting the sting alleviate the burn of humiliation that had taken over.

She wouldn't let him make a fool of her like that. Never again.

Eduardo drew a shaking hand over his face. He had not meant to do that. He had not meant to touch her, or kiss her. He hadn't meant to lose control.

Rage had been a feral beast inside of him, pus.h.i.+ng him, driving him. Rage, and then, the hot surge of l.u.s.t that had tipped him over the edge.

His body burned. He'd been so close to pus.h.i.+ng her on the surface of the desk and ...

He laughed into the empty room and gave thanks for the mostly private floor.

He hadn't touched a woman in five years. Five years of celibacy that he hadn't minded in the least. Now it seemed to be crus.h.i.+ng him, five years all added together and suddenly very, very apparent.

It was more than that, though. It was this thing in him that he didn't know. This strain of unpredictability that he couldn't control or antic.i.p.ate.

He didn't understand the man he'd been. He didn't know, or like, the man he was.

This wasn't how it was supposed to work. She wasn't supposed to appeal to the new, darker side of him. She was supposed to remind him of that light, easy time. Was supposed to bring those feelings back.

Beyond that, he did need her to help straighten out the company's finances, and he could not afford to be distracted. He had to see this through, and he could not afford a distraction. He couldn't afford to divert his focus any more than it already was. He had no control over the effects of his injury. No control over the forgetfulness or the migraines. But he would d.a.m.n well control his body's reaction to her.

He gritted his teeth and walked back into the office. Hannah jumped and turned.

"Knock for heaven's sake," she growled, turning back to the screen.

"It's my office."

"Well ... you left."

"And now I am back."

"Yes, you are," she said, her shoulders rolled forward, her expression intense, focused on the screen. She let out a short breath. "It's not that bad." She turned the chair so that she was facing him, a guarded expression on her face.

"You don't think?"

"No. The fees you incurred for late taxes ... I can't help you with that. That was the work of a very sucky employee and I'm glad he's been fired. The rest is manageable. I could recommend some investment and savings strategies and, actually, you're missing a few tax breaks you could take advantage of while making sure your employees get better benefits."

"You make it sound ... easy."

"It is," she said. "When it's your area of expertise. Can you explain to me exactly what isn't working for you? I need to know so I can help you get a system in place."

He hated that word. Help. He had thought nothing of it before his accident. But then, he hadn't needed it. He was supposed to be the one who provided help, the one people went to. He was the man of the Vega family. He wasn't supposed to need so much.

"Numbers and dates get reversed when I read them. And I have a very hard time remembering them. And my attention span has ... shortened. It's hard to sit down and read something for a long time. Harder to retain it."

"Do they think it will ever change?"

He shrugged, like it didn't matter. "Probably not, but it's impossible to know, really."

"You're okay with it?"

A chuckle escaped his lips, not because he felt there was anything funny, but because it seemed the only response he was capable of for a moment. "Would you be okay if you woke up with a brain that wasn't yours? That's how I feel. All the time."

She looked down, her complexion pale. "I've been trying to be someone else for the past nine or ten years. I might not mind."

"Trust me, querida, you would. But, either way, I cannot change what is. So I only concern myself with what can be changed."

She planted both hands on his desk and pushed herself into a standing position. She seemed to have forgotten the kiss, her expression as icy and composed as ever. He still shook inside.

"What I would like to do, is work on implementing a system that will be easier for you to track. Then I want to make sure you find some good, trustworthy financial managers. Not until everything is corrected, you understand."

"You always did think quickly on your feet. Or in an office chair."

Her lips curved into a smile. A real smile, not a smirk or a forced expression. "This is what I do. I'm good at it."

"You always have been. That's why I came to you."

"That and the leverage."

"A man can't go into battle unarmed."

A flicker of heat sparked in her eyes and he knew that she was replaying the kiss. So, she wasn't unaffected. She hadn't brushed it off. But she was right, she was an accomplished actress. She'd gotten even better, even harder to read since the beginning of their sham marriage. He had worried about her breaking character then. Even now, with the little spark visible in the depths of her eyes, he doubted anyone else would see anything beyond the cool, composed beauty she seemed to project. It would keep most people from looking deeper.

She was a pet.i.te blonde, well dressed, perfectly coiffed. She had a look that could easily become generic, and might be to some. It was her eyes that showed how different she was. That showed her intelligence, her steel.

She cleared her throat, tilted her chin up. "Well, I doubt anyone would accuse you of that."

"I'm flattered by the a.s.sessment."

"Don't be, or I'll have to punch you in the ego again."

"I see, so you're trying to knock me down a couple of pegs in an attempt to gain the upper hand. It won't work. I'm happily absent an ego, in many ways. Social status means little to me. I haven't tried to impress friends or women in so many years I can hardly remember why I ever bothered in the first place. Though, the forgetting could also be a side effect of my head injury."

She s.h.i.+fted, her lips bunching together.

"You don't like it when I joke about my accident?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It's your trauma, man. Deal with it however you want."

"I've dealt with it," he said, his words coming out harsher than intended. Lies. "I've dealt with my father's death, with trying to ensure my mother and sister are happy, well taken care of. And now, I'm dealing with fixing what has fallen into disrepair here at the company."

"And I'm here to help you do it." She arched her pale eyebrows. "Under sufferance, you understand, but I am here. And I am helping."

For some reason, his entire body didn't seize in response to the use of the word.

"You are."

CHAPTER FIVE.

HANNAH leaned against the railing on the penthouse terrace and looked down at the city. The sky was dark, stars piercing holes in the blackness, and below, Barcelona was lit. Cars still crowded the road, people headed to restaurants and clubs.

She breathed in deep-warm air filling her lungs. She smelled salt, the sea, but it wasn't the same as it was in San Francisco or New York. Here it seemed spicier, richer. It always had. It had always called to her in a different way. Begged her to strip off her control and let herself go free.

And she had always denied it.

"Having trouble sleeping?"

She turned, her heart catching when she saw Eduardo leaning in the doorway. He'd traded in his work attire for casual black pants and a tight T-s.h.i.+rt that hugged his muscular physique almost as tightly as she'd hugged him earlier in his office.

Don't think about that.

She wouldn't. Not again. That was over. Done. No more kissing. Not in private anyway.

"I'm still a little off. Jet lag and all."

"Tell me, Hannah."

Her throat tightened, strange, irrational fear a.s.saulting her. "Tell you what?"

"Tell me what you've been doing with yourself these past five years."

She almost sighed in relief. Five years she could do. "Working. I was in New York for about three years, working on Wall Street, of all things, then I relocated to San Francisco. I started to get a good client base at the firm I was with, doing personal financial management and investments. I hit a bit of a wall, though, because male bosses, coworkers and clients always seemed to think single meant available. So when I met Zack a year ago, it seemed perfect. I could get married, and I could do my job without so much s.e.xual hara.s.sment."

"And that's the only reason you were going to marry him? I hate to be the one to tell you, but men who are inclined to behave that way s.e.xually hara.s.s women with wedding rings, too."

"Sure they do, but Zack is influential. Wealthy. It would be a brave man who attempted to poach on his territory."

Eduardo chuckled, dark and enticing. "Like me?"

"Yes. Brave or stupid."

His eyes locked with hers. "Do you remember what happened last time you used that word?"

Heat and regret a.s.saulted her. Heat from the memory of the kiss, regret because she'd insulted him. She wished she felt more regret in regards to the actual kissing.

"I won't do it again."

"Good." He walked to the railing, resting his forearms on the metal surface. He was barefoot. Strange that she noticed. He seemed slightly more human than usual in that moment. "Were you going to have a family with him? Children?"

A s.h.i.+ver started in her stomach, working its way through her. "No. No children."

"You don't want them?"

"No. Never. What would I do with a baby, anyway?" She laughed, as though it were the most ridiculous thing in the world. And she fought hard against the tight, clenching pain in her womb. Against the memories.

"Raise it, I suppose. But then, wearing a baby in a sling while you're cursing and trading stocks is maybe not that practical."

She swallowed the bile that was rising in her throat. "You want children?"

"No," he said. Just no. Good. She didn't want to talk about her aversion to children, either. Didn't want to open up that box. It held so much fear, and regret and guilt. She just couldn't look in it at the moment. She did her best to never, ever look in it. To never remember.

"Not practical for people like us," she said. She and Zack had had a very similar conversation once. And in his response she'd sensed the same dark grief that she felt hovering around the edges of his answers. Another reason she'd never pressed him for his secrets. She was certain they shared something too similar, too painful. She knew it was why he'd never pressed for hers.

"Of course not."

"We were going to be partners. Help each other out. It's good to have a partner in life."

"I suppose so," he said slowly. "But that isn't how I want to live."

"No?"

"No. I would rather be able to do things independently. If I ever had a wife ... I would have wanted to take care of her."

"Not every woman wants to be taken care of." But for a moment she wondered what it would be like. To have someone shoulder some of the pain. To have someone who knew every secret. Who shared every fear. Someone who would cover her, s.h.i.+eld her.

A silly thought. She didn't want that. She was the only person she could trust. The only person she could depend on.

"It's how I think things should be done. That's how my parents did things. They were happy."

"How is your mom?"

"Grieving. Still. She spent more than thirty years with my father. His death has been hard for her."