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“Did your Health Class include sex education?”
She could feel her cheeks burning. “No.”
He sighed, as if she’d just placed the woes of the world at his feet.
“No. I didn’t think it would.”
“And,” she said, with enough aplomb to have delighted the sister who taught Deportment, “it is not a proper topic for us to discuss.”
A muscle knotted in his jaw. “If you’re going to marry in two months, it is.”
Catarina jerked back in her chair. Jake could have happily cut out his tongue, but it was too late.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Damn it, I didn’t mean to be so blunt, but—”
But he had spoken the truth. For a little while she’d almost forgotten why she was here. The elegant suite, the delicious meal, the male-female banter with the incredibly gorgeous man seated across from her, had blinded her to reality.
She’d almost forgotten that all this was an illusion.
The hotel was only a more gilded prison than the one where she’d spent most of her life. The food was meant to lull her into complacent acceptance. And the man who looked like he’d stepped from a dream had no heart.
How could she have forgotten?
“Catarina.”
His expression was so earnest she longed to wipe it from his face.
“Catarina, listen to me. Your life is about to change. Don’t you want to talk about some of those changes before they occur?”
“I am not,” she said, her tone venomous, “going to talk about sex with you.”
Hell. He didn’t want to talk about sex with her, either. He wasn’t even sure how he’d come to bring up the topic but now that he had, okay, why not get it over with? He had to know what she knew. What she didn’t know. Because she didn’t, he thought grimly, know the first damned thing about what went on between men and women.
“You’ll have to talk with someone. You can’t just…I can’t just let you…” Jake said a word that made her eyes widen. “You think this is easy for me? It isn’t. It’s an enormous responsibility.”
“All you have to do is find a man who’ll be willing to take me as his wife and your so-called responsibility will be over.”
“The right man.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry. I forgot. A proper Brazilian husband.” Her mouth trembled. “That should be easy enough when you dangle my inheritance under his nose.”
“Goddamnit,” Jake said sharply. He rose from the table. “Do you really think I’d hand you over to just anyone?”
“You’re shouting.”
“Damned right I’m shouting!” He took a deep breath. “Look. None of this was my idea. I have a life. A life I made for myself. A life I enjoy.” The chair he’d sat on was in his way. He kicked it aside and stalked across the room. “And now I’m knee-deep in your life, and I don’t like it.”
“Is that why we’re flying to your country tomorrow?”
“You make it sound as if we’re flying to Mars.”
“I don’t have a passport,” Catarina said, with the desperation of a woman grasping at a straw that might keep her from being swept downstream.
Jake looked at her. “Yeah, you do.”
“I do?”
“Estes gave me some papers. Your birth certificate, your graduation diploma, your passport and visa.”
