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Her shoes were beside the bed. Better not to put them on. She could tiptoe past the other bedroom, assuming Jake was in it. Catarina scooped up the shoes, pressed her ear to the door and listened. Not a sound. Nothing but the swoosh swoosh of her pulse. Slowly she closed her hand around the knob, turned it, held her breath as she swung the door open…
And saw Jake, sitting in an armchair, watching her. He had an open newspaper in his lap, a steaming cup of coffee next to him, and a polite smile on his face.
“Good morning.” His gaze traveled to the shoes hanging from her fingers. “Going somewhere?”
She was disappointed, but not intimidated. There’d always been someone watching you at school; if you got caught doing what you weren’t supposed to do, you simply lied your way out of it. With a white lie, of course. White lies were not only acceptable, they were necessities when you lived inside the gates of the convent…
When a man appeared out of the blue and tried to ruin your life.
“Yes,” she said, her smile as polite as his. “I wanted to get my toothbrush. I left it in the other bathroom.”
“And you’re walking barefoot so as not to disturb me? How thoughtful…Or do you always travel on tiptoe?”
She felt her face heat but she kept her eyes steady on his. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Jake nodded at the shoes in her hand. “Perhaps the custom here is different. Back in the States, shoes are generally worn on the feet, not the hands.”
“My feet hurt.”
“Of course.” Another polite smile. “Well, you can put on a pair of more comfortable shoes after you brush your teeth.”
“Oh. Yes, of course. I—I—”
“Would you like some coffee? There’s a second cup.”
She would, desperately, but accepting anything from him would be a sign of defeat.
“No,” she said, and then, though it killed her, she added, “Thank you.”
Jake folded the paper. “I was just about to wake you.”
An image of herself in bed flashed before her, Jake bending over her, softly saying her name, reaching down to cup her face and lift it to his…
How long did temporary insanity last?
“How nice for us both that it wasn’t necessary,” she said, marching past him to the bedroom.
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Catarina slammed the door after her, hard enough to rattle Jake’s teeth. Great, he thought, tossing the paper aside. Just great. Another day, another confrontation. What else was new?
What had happened last night. That was new.
Lying there when she’d decided to go on her little journey of discovery. Not moving a muscle when she bent over him, touched him…
Even remembering made him hard as stone, but there was no point to it.
He’d find someone who’d be right for Catarina. A good guy. A young one—she deserved that. Somebody she’d want to be with. Somebody who’d teach her the endless things she didn’t know about men and life and sex…
The things he’d ached to teach her last night.
“Damn it all,” Jake snarled, and stalked across the room. “Catarina!” He slammed his fist against the bedroom door and bellowed her name again. “Catarina! Get a move on!”
He’d already jammed the inside lock. The hotel could bill him for it. They could bill him for the whole door if he got any angrier and kicked it down. Where was she? What took so long? They were on the top floor, but for all he knew she was crazy enough—desperate enough—to try and jimmy open the win—
The door swung open.
“There’s no need to make so much noise.”
