The Unexpected Honeymoon (11 page)

“You forget,
querida,
” he said, leaning forward. “My staff knows how to be discreet. So are you interested?”

“Very.”

“Good. The launch will be in front of your dock at seven o'clock.”

Just in time to enjoy the sunset. If she said something, he'd probably tell her the boats always departed at sunset to increase the ambiance. She preferred not to know. “I'll be there.”

“So will I.” He reached over and ran a finger along the inside of her wrist, trumping her foot move by spades. “'Til tonight,
querida.
”

Watching him walk away, Larissa rubbed the spot on her skin where his finger made contact, and tried not to think about how he completely dodged her comment about being public.

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

“H
OLA
,
CHICA
! Q
UE
 
PASA
?”

Chloe's voice burst over the receiver. Hearing her friend caused a ripple of homesickness. Back home, they barely went a day without chatting. “Just having breakfast overlooking the ocean,” Larissa replied. After Carlos went back to his office, she remained, using the view to distract her from thinking too hard. “What about you? Aren't you supposed to be working? Or have you finally decided to quit and help your boyfriend run his coffee empire?”

“Nah, I'm saving those kinds of life-changing decisions for when you get back.”

“We're on speakerphone in Simon's office,” a second voice, Delilah's, chimed in. “We told him we needed to check on you. We were worried because you didn't return our phone call the other day.”

She'd completely forgotten they called while she was getting sick. “I'm so sorry, you guys, I meant to.”

“Relax,” Chole replied. “We're only teasing. We didn't expect you to call back. International cell calls are expensive.”

“Plus, you should be out enjoying your vacation,” Delilah added. “How is Mexico?”

“Wonderful, now that I've recovered from your welcome present. I'm never drinking champagne again. Oh, and then there was the tarantula.” Briefly, she told them about her encounter with Hairy.

True to form, Delilah expressed the proper sympathy, while Chloe giggled. “Poor La-Roo,” she said. “So far paradise hasn't been very nice to you.”

“It hasn't been all bad.” In fact, she added silently as Carlos's midnight smile flashed before her, some of Mexico had been very, very good. “I went swimming in an underground cave the other day. And, tonight I'm taking a moonlight cruise on the lagoon.”

“How lovely,” Delilah said, only to pause shortly after. “Wait, I thought those lagoon cruises were a private, couples-only thing. Who are you going with? Don't tell me you're taking one by yourself.”

Larissa bit her lip. Should she tell them about Carlos? Normally, the three of them shared everything, but she didn't feel like talking about her time with Carlos. Not yet anyway. She was having a hard enough time examining the circumstances in the harsh light of day; talking would only expose the flaws and bring her bubble closer to bursting.

Unfortunately, in a huge tactical error, she forgot how her friends could read between the lines, especially the lines of a prolonged silence.

“Something's up,” Chloe said. “You have a date, don't you?”

“I—”

“You do!” Delilah squealed. “With who?”

“The general manager and it's not a date.” This was why she didn't want to talk. Because Chloe and Delilah would force her to face reality. “Have the two of you forgotten that I'm here on my honeymoon?”

“Without your groom,” Chloe shot back.

“Thank you for reminding me.” Immediately, Larissa regretted snapping. Since Carlos appeared on her walkway two nights ago, she'd hadn't thought of Tom once, and she'd barely thought of him before that.

“All I meant was that you shouldn't feel bad if you want to have a little fun while you're south of the border.”

“Who said I feel bad?” she asked. If anything, she'd felt way too good the past few days.

“So long as you don't let all those romantic sunsets go to your head.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” She didn't like the way Delilah's comment made the hair on her neck stand up.

“It means don't get too carried away. You know what a sucker you are when it comes to romance.”

“For goodness' sake, Delilah, I just broke my engagement. I'm not looking for a deep relationship.” Even as she said the words, however, she could hear the distant warning bells. Suggesting she might remind herself of her resolve a little more frequently.

“Give the woman a break, wouldn't you, Del? She's going to dinner, not running away with the guy. Don't listen to her, La-Roo. The only advice you need is to not do anything we wouldn't do.”

Talk about loose guidance. When it came to caution, the two women were at complete opposite ends of the spectrum. “Pretty wide berth, don't you think?”

“Plenty of wiggle room for a good time,” her friend replied.

“Good Lord, there's going to be a chef and a launch operator with us. How much wiggling do you think there's going to be?”

“Depends on how creative a thinker you are. You'd be amazed what you can do when you think outside the box.”

“Very amusing.” She wondered if Chloe would give the same advice if she knew how much
wiggling
she and Carlos had done already.

After a few more minutes of conversation, mostly about the hotel and her room, and one last warning from Delilah to keep her head, Larissa hung up. Immediately, a server showed up to top off her coffee. Invisible, discreet service. Carlos would be pleased to see his dictate being carried out with such efficiency.

Mug cradled in her hands, she let it hover below her lips while she stared at the horizon. The sky and water met with perfect complimentary colors. Dark navy abutting cerulean. So much of Mexico's colors seemed plucked from a box of crayons. Bright, bold, beautiful.

Romantic as sin.

Delilah's remark about Mexican sunsets nagged. Everyone always teased her about being overly romantic.
Addicted to romance,
Chloe liked to say.
All those years helping your grandmother gave you tulle on the brain.

Was it possible she was letting her surroundings color her emotions? Would Carlos's kisses be as intoxicating if they took place somewhere like the corner of Fifty-ninth and Madison? Did it even matter? In a few days, she'd be back on Madison Avenue, while Carlos stayed here. Was it really important for her to know the answer?

Wow, she thought, setting her coffee down. For a woman whose ex-fiancé accused her of not having deep thoughts, she was certainly thinking herself into a corner, wasn't she?

* * *

“I heard you booked the open moonlight cruise.”

Carlos looked from his paperwork to see his cousin who stood in the doorway. “That's right, I did. For Señorita Boyd.”

“And for you, as well.”

“She mentioned the cruise had been a highly anticipated part of her old itinerary. I thought taking advantage of the cancellation would be a nice way to show our appreciation for her help.”

“Interesting. I would have thought visiting her room the past two nights would be message enough.”

Carlos washed his hands over his face. He'd been wondering how long before Jorge said something. His staff might be discreet, but they weren't blind. Nor had he been overly secretive about his rendezvous. Sighing, he got up and went to shut the door. “You could at least keep your voice down.”

“Little late to be worried about discretion now, don't you think? The time to worry was before you decided to mix business with pleasure.”

Carlos winced.

“Regardless, I'd prefer to at least try and protect the señorita's reputation.”

“Relax,
primo,
I made sure we were alone before I said anything. I don't want to encourage gossip any more than you do.”

“Gracias.”

“No need to thank me. I'm happy to see you finally moving on.”

“I'm not moving on.” The response was reflexive.

“Then what are you doing?”

“I...” Carlos wasn't sure. He certainly didn't set out to become Larissa's lover. Quite the opposite. The other afternoon, he'd decided to take a drive precisely because he wanted to clear his head of the notion.
Until he saw her sitting on the curb.
From that moment on, kissing her had been inevitable, and after kissing...well, there was no turning back. He could no more stop himself from going to her room than he could stop breathing. His actions were no longer his own.

Jorge, if he heard such an explanation, would never let it go, so Carlos settled for a half-truth instead. “We're two people enjoying each other's company, that is all.”

“Well, I have to say, you've got good taste. She is a beautiful woman. She must be very special, too, to get your attention after all these years.”

You don't know by
half.
Leaving Larissa each morning proved increasingly difficult. She was sweet, smart and had an uncanny ability for making him feel lighter. By the end with Mirabelle, he'd had a persistent weight pressing down on him. For the first time in years, he didn't feel the pressure.

“Don't read too much into the situation,” he told Jorge. Or was he telling himself? “She's only here for a few more days.”

“If I remember correctly, you courted, proposed and married Mirabelle in the same amount of time.”

And look where that got him. “Larissa is not Mirabelle.”

“Thank goodness.”

Spine stiffening, Carlos turned away. On other side of the glass the ocean looked particularly blue today. Perhaps he'd take a perimeter walk. Clear his head.
Because doing so worked so well the last time....

Behind him, the leather guest chair crinkled as Jorge shifted his weight. His cousin gearing up for another comment. How foolish for him to think the conversation over. He held his breath, waiting for what he knew was coming.

“What happened to Mirabelle wasn't your fault. No one could have loved her more than you if they tried.”

And yet he still failed her. Did his cousin ever stop to think that Carlos might not want to fail again? Some mistakes were too awful to repeat. The most he and Larissa could ever be were two people incredibly and insatiably attracted to one another.

Not that more could happen anyway. Even if he were capable of having a deeper relationship, come the end of the week, Larissa would leave for New York, and their affair would be in the past. Which, he thought rubbing a sudden pang in his sternum, was exactly what he wanted.

* * *

“Why is it women always keep us waiting?”

Carlos shot the chef a look. “I would hardly call five minutes a wait,” he replied.

“
Lo siento, señor.
It seemed longer.”

Yes, thought Carlos, it did. Fortunately, his employees knew better than to call him on the fact the launch arrived at Larissa's villa ten minutes early and coasted around the lagoon to kill time.

Turning so his back was to the boat, he wiped his hands on his slacks. “I'm sure the señorita will be outside any moment.”

“She's outside now,” Larissa said.

She hustled toward him, wearing a curve-hugging red dress and platform sandals. As he watched her hips swing back and forth, Carlos's mouth began to water.

“Sorry I made you wait,” she said, her voice breathy. “I ran into Paul and Linda by the pool. We ended up talking about tomorrow's ceremony and the time slipped away.”

He couldn't care less about Linda Stevas. The only thing he could think about was how much Larissa's body resembled an hourglass, and how he couldn't wait to run his hands over every blessed inch of time.
Two people incredibly and insatiably attracted to one another.

Suddenly the launch was over capacity by two. “Disembark,” he barked at the crew. “I'll handle the boat from here.”

Both staff members' mouths opened. “But this is the VIP section. How are we supposed to get back to the main hotel?”

“Call for another launch.” There were plenty of boats still available. “Or walk.” So long as they didn't set sail with them. The men grumbled but did as he requested. Tomorrow there would be gossip, but at the moment, Carlos couldn't be bothered to care. The gleam in Larissa's eyes told him that neither could she.

He held out his hand. “Ready to board?”

* * *

It didn't surprise Larissa that Carlos could maneuver the launch on his own or that he looked completely in command standing at the wheel in his suit. Everything the man did oozed confidence; why shouldn't steering a boat?

Lifting a hand from the wheel, he slipped an arm around her waist. “You're standing too far away,” he said. The hum of the engine required that he bring his mouth close to her ear so when he spoke, his lips tickled the outer shell. Larissa shivered.

“How about I open the bottle I saw chilling?” she whispered back, slipping from his grip. Ever since the boat pulled to the dock, her insides had been a jittery mess, more in keeping with a first date than two people who'd been sharing a bed for days. After the things Carlos and she had done the past two nights, that she should feel any shyness was absurd. For goodness' sake, didn't she pour herself in to this dress knowing full well what kind of message it telegraphed? A message Carlos received loud and clear, she might add.

The nerves were Delilah's fault. Her comment about not getting carried away kept replaying itself. The warning was completely unnecessary; both Larissa and Carlos understood the parameters of their
relationship.
She wasn't about to build their affair into anything more. Didn't matter how gorgeous and romantic the setting.

Unlike the regular launches, which featured rows of benches to accommodate multiple passengers, the dinner boats had counter space and cooking equipment. A gauzy curtain divided the stern from the rest of the space, so guests could maintain the illusion of being alone of the water. Since she and Carlos really were alone, the curtain remained open. She made her way to where the ice bucket sat on the floor next to the cushioned bench seat. The bottle had already been opened and left to breathe.

“I see, you're going to make me break my no-alcohol rule,” she teased over her shoulder.

“What?”

No sense talking over the engine. Clearly, conversation would have to wait. She lifted the bottle only to stare at the label in surprise.
Spring water.
Carlos must have directed the chef to replace the usual wine for her sake.