And when their father had deemed the surprisingly business-savvy Terry old enough to take over, he’d removed the job from John Henry without qualm, leaving the fiercely ambitious man reporting to a woman he not so secretly felt was beneath him.
He’d never forgiven any of them for that, and Nina, the only one left to deal with him on a daily basis, got to face the brunt of his attitude. “The financials are complete,” she said, ignoring his silent surprise that she’d done her job. She always did her job, sometimes at the expense of her own happiness, but that he expected her to fail, even wanted her to, hurt. “But thank you for your offer of help.”
He ignored the dry quip. “Everything is good?”
The tall, stern, perpetually frowning man wasn’t asking about her health or her life, she’d learned the hard way. On her first day, John Henry had asked her the same question, and at the thought that she was only there because Terry was dead and buried, she’d burst into tears.
John Henry had simply walked out of her office without a word, coming back when she’d composed herself.
“Everything is perfectly in balance,” she said now.
“Did you include the paperwork your father had worked on during his last visit to Arraial do Cabo?” he asked.
“Yes, I—” Oh, no. The Monteverde vacation estate! Good Lord, how could she have so completely forgotten?
Nina had long ago gone through her sister’s condo, burning everything and anything that could have been used against Terry. Correspondence, notes, journals, everything.
Illegal, yes, but Nina hadn’t cared. Her sister was innocent, framed for whatever reason, and the authorities had gone along with it, so all rules had been off as far as Nina was concerned. She’d have done far worse to protect her sister.
People thought of Nina as the good girl. Ha! If they only knew the fire she had burning deep within her, the fierce love and sense of loyalty she felt toward her family.
But she’d forgotten the vacation home she hadn’t been to since Terry’s “death.” Who knew what her sister had out there that could be used to track her down.
“Nina?”
“Yes, John Henry,” she said carefully. “I am here. And you are quite right, I had forgotten about the paperwork at the vacation estate.”
His silence said volumes about what he thought of her first and only “mistake.”
“In fact,” she said trying to contain her sudden attack of nerves, “I need to drive up to Arrairal do Cabo myself. I will leave now and be back at the office by tomorrow afternoon the latest.”
“If you insist.”
He could have offered any one of a dozen minions to make the three-hour drive and handle the chore for her, but he didn’t, and for once Nina was grateful John Henry was selfish and bitter and resentful.
She needed to go, and she needed to go alone.
* * *
NINA MADE THE TRIP into the mountains with nothing but her own nerves for company.
It was horrifying how the mind could play tricks. She imagined she was being followed. Imagined being kidnapped and tortured.
Imagined her sister dead for real.
But common sense came over her. First of all, no one knew where she was going besides John Henry, and while he was a cranky pain in her behind, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt his precious job.
As for being followed, the road was so well traveled by both locals and tourists, even this late at night, that it would be nearly impossible for anyone to follow her, especially a gorgeous, brooding American not familiar with the winding highway.
Besides, she simply wasn’t that important. Not to anyone, not anymore. Her father was house-bound and cared for by his adoring servants. She visited him every other week, and while he appreciated her running All That Glitters, he didn’t seem to need anything more from her.
Ah, that was it.
Self-pity.
She was feeling that strange, inexplicable loneliness again, the sense that there was no one she could trust with the real Nina Monteverde.
With a skill that came from long years of practice, she pushed the feelings away. But when she pulled up to the family estate, the beautiful Spanish-style ranch that sprawled thirty acres over the mountainside, memories washed over her.
Here was where they’d spent many summers, she and her sister, watched over by servants and Baba. It hadn’t been a hardship, because for the most part they’d been left alone to do as they pleased.
For Terry it had been sunbathing and boy gazing.
For Nina, it had been reading and secret boy gazing. She’d never had the nerve and splashiness of her sister, and now, given the life Terry had been forced to lead for the past year and a half, Nina should be content.
But the truth was, she’d always admired Terry for knowing what she wanted, for going after it with such complete abandon. To know Terry was to look at her. She’d worn her life and emotions on her sleeve for all to see.
No one could look at Nina and know her life’s ambitions, and certainly not her emotions. She’d been hiding them so long she wasn’t even certain herself anymore who she really was.
Going inside, she carefully locked up behind her. Then, because it was so late and she felt more exhausted than she could ever remember feeling, she made her way directly to her bedroom.
She’d search the place first thing in the morning.
Yawning, she undressed. With one look out into the incredible night sky awash with millions of stars, their reflection dancing over the wild, dark mountains, her head hit the pillow and she was out.
* * *
SHE DREAMED BADLY, and as she tossed and turned, she attributed it to the fact she hadn’t yet done what she’d come for.
God only knew what clues Terry had left in her hurry to escape Brazil, and now that someone was looking for her, Nina felt that urgency as her own.
But she finally fell into a deep sleep, this time dreaming of fire-green, searing eyes and the intense expression of the American’s arresting face as he leaned toward her, over her, closer and closer with that long, beautifully formed body of his, until her breath backed up in her lungs.
Was he going to kiss her?
Was that why her body tingled in vibrant awareness, her pulse dancing and leaping as she arched closer?
His hands reached out, and she imagined them caressing her every inch, giving her pleasure such as she’d never known.
But instead they circled her neck and started to squeeze.
That’s when she remembered, even deeply asleep, that the lean, edgy man wasn’t just beautiful.
He was dangerous.
She needed to remember that, and promised herself she would as she shifted into a more normal sleep. She dreamed of Terry, of their happy, care-free childhood as a watchful part of her chased away the disturbing dreams.
And awakened with a silent scream when a hand covered her mouth.
“Where is she?”
Nina could see nothing, which added to her terror. Kicking out into the dark room, she found herself pinned to the mattress, a hard, powerful body stretched out over hers, her arms immobile above her head.
“Come on, Nina.” He said the name slowly, purposely, in his very American way, and she knew instantly who held her so intimately. “Tell me.”