From Passion to Pregnancy
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Tina Beckett
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15,0K
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13
Prologue
TWO THINGS CAME to mind as Sara Moreira stood behind the bride-to-be.
One: she was grateful her boyfriend hadn’t waited until her wedding day to ghost her. Instead, he had left in the middle of the night. No response to her texts. No returned calls. He’d just disappeared into the ether.
And two: Dr. Sebastian Texeira looked as gorgeous in a tux as he did in a lab coat.
More than gorgeous. Even when he slid a finger behind his bow-tie and tugged as if his collar were ten times too tight. Something he’d done repeatedly during the wedding, looking none too happy with the proceedings.
Why was she even noticing that? Wasn’t she supposed to be knee deep in her own woes, not worrying about someone else’s problems?
Her tummy tightened as she took in the broad chest and narrow hips. Wow, evidently her devastation hadn’t reached the more primal regions of her brain.
Dr. Texeira’s glance shifted with shocking swiftness and—yikes!—caught her staring. The second time he’d done that. His mouth kicked up to one side, sending her errant stomach diving feet first into a dark pool.
What was wrong with her?
This was his sister’s wedding, for heaven’s sake. She needed to keep her eyes to herself.
Besides, this man was way out of her league. Even further than the guy she’d imagined herself in love with. The man she’d cried bitter tears over a month ago.
Or had that just been wounded pride?
“Up here, please?”
Sara’s attention snapped back to the minister. He’d asked something and was staring right at her.
Céus. Was she supposed to be doing something? Straightening the bride’s train? Vacuuming the red carpet that covered the dusty ground of her dad’s ranch? Lying down and dying of embarrassment?
The last option was a definite possibility.
A sense of hysteria began building in her chest before Dr. Texeira snagged her gaze once more, lifting his right hand and waggling his little finger. The glitter of a diamond band appeared. What the...?
Oh...ring! She was supposed to give Natália the groom’s ring.
But where was it? Her mind went blank in an instant.
A few giggles came from behind her. Oh, Lord, she couldn’t believe this was happening.
The good doctor came over to her. “Here.” He reached for the bouquet she held. Tied to one of the ribbons was the errant ring. With a few quick twists, he teased it free of the knot.
“Give me your hand,” he murmured.
She jerked it back in a rush.
“I’m just going to give it to you.”
“Oh.” Feeling like a fool, she opened her hand, and the sizzle of cool fingers brushing across her palm made her suck down a couple of breaths. She handed the ring over to Natália as if it were coated with poison.
It might as well be.
She looked back across the aisle to where he had retreated.
Okay, the man was now watching her with open amusement. Her lower lip jutted slightly, then froze when his gaze dropped to her mouth.
Mini-frissons of heat overtook each of her limbs.
Was she getting heatstroke?
What had her father been thinking, inviting members of his cancer care team to have their wedding at the ranch?
Dr. Texeira had been part of that team. And Sara had spent the better part of last year at his hospital during her dad’s treatment.
And now Antônio Moreira was well again. Graças a Deus. She could feel his presence in the small group of people seated behind the wedding party.
Once they’d left São Paulo and returned home, she’d never expected to see the hunky doctor again. But here he was. And her thoughts were not the kind she should be having at a friend’s wedding.
He’d looked at her mouth. She was almost sure of it. Except when she gathered the courage to glance through her lashes, she found him staring straight ahead.
She’d imagined it.
Just like she’d imagined him leaning toward her and...
“You may now kiss the bride.” The minister’s proclamation whipped that thought from her head and sent it spinning away.
The pair at the front of the makeshift chapel turned toward each other, their happiness almost palpable as they came together for a long, long, long—she counted down the seconds—kiss that had her attention sliding back toward the best man.
She gulped.
Not her imagination. He was definitely looking at her. Then the bride and groom broke apart and swept down the aisle, leaving them behind. Dr. Texeira pivoted, his shiny black shoes unscathed by the red dust that covered every inch of the ranch. He held his right arm toward her.
Oh! She was supposed to go down with him.
She settled her hand in the crook of his arm, trying to calm her rattled nerves. “Nice wedding, huh?”
“Yes. Great.”
Hmm, that word didn’t ring true. In fact, she was pretty sure he was lying, which was odd considering the fact that it was his sister who had gotten married.
She frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“Hmm. I just see someone I’d rather avoid.” He glanced down at her. “Mind cutting through that section of chairs on our way to the reception?”
Maybe he was ghosting someone too.
Without waiting for a response, he towed her between the rows of organza-draped seating to their right.
“I think we’re supposed to be following the bride and groom.”
“Humor me for a second. We’ll get there.” Only there wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice.
Who exactly was he trying to evade? When they reached her dad’s huge barn, which had been converted into a reception hall for the big event, she led him to one of the side entrances. The massive sliding door stood open, and a drape of gauzy fabric had been interwoven with twinkle lights, a slight breeze making them wink in and out like stars against the growing dusk. “We can sneak in this way, if you want.”
“Perfect, thank you.”
Thinking he was just going to abandon her there at the door, she was shocked when he cupped her elbow and ducked through the curtains, eyeing their surroundings before moving toward the table set aside for the wedding party. The same frothy organza that graced the chairs and all the entrances had been tossed over it. Placed on a wooden platform lined with more tiny glimmering lights, Sara had to go up three steps to reach it. Natália and Adam were already seated. The bride glowed with happiness, while the groom gave Sebastian a pointed look. “I wondered if you were taking off before the toasts.”
“No.”
The answer was short and curt, and he cut around the table and went to Natália, whispering something in her ear. She gave a quick shrug and glanced out at the guests. “There was nothing I could do. They insisted.”
When Sara peered out at the tables, which were filling with guests, she saw a lot of strangers, so Natália could have been talking about anyone.
Just then, a small group with stringed instruments began playing, a fiddler stepping forward to set up a lively melody that drowned out Sebastian’s response. And, of course, there were only two more chairs at the table. One for Sebastian. And one for her. Right next to each other. There were even little printed cards with their names on them.
Unfortunately, those seats had been placed next to the groom, so she didn’t even have the luxury of turning and engaging Natália in conversation for the entire evening.
Did it matter? It shouldn’t.
She should just sit back and enjoy Sebastian’s company.
Except he made her just a little nervous. Because he was a city man like her ex?
Big deal. It was one night. She’d survived much worse.
He sat down next to her, his arm brushing her bare shoulder as he did. A shiver went through her.
Yep. Nervous.
One of her dad’s rugged ranch workers, looking out of place in formalwear, brought a tray with four champagne flutes. His hands gave him away. Gnarly with calluses he grinned at Sara as he moved down the table and handed her a glass. “You look great.”
“So do you, Carlos.”
He then turned to Sebastian, his tray outstretched. Sara was unable to suppress a smile when the doctor took the proffered drink with a frown.
“You don’t like champagne?” she asked after Carlos move away.
“I was hoping for something a whole lot stronger.”
He had to lean close to make himself heard, and his shoulder bumped hers again. This time she went with it, not even attempting to put any distance between them. Instead, she focused on that point of contact and allowed herself a tiny forbidden thrill. He’d never know.
“Something stronger? At a wedding?”
“Especially at a wedding.” The wry humor behind those words came through loud and clear.
“Drink enough of that stuff and it will probably have the same effect.”
“So would cough syrup.”
This time she laughed. “Okay, so champagne really isn’t your thing. If you want something fast and to the point, you can always head to the Casa de Cachaça afterwards. I can show you where it’s at.”
Why had she said that? Maybe because he was so obviously unhappy about someone in attendance. And his “especially at a wedding” comment resonated with her.
Boy, did it ever.
At least her ex hadn’t shown up tonight.
She scanned the guests again. Maybe Sebastian had an ex who had. Could that have been what he and Natália had been discussing a few minutes ago?
“Cachaça sounds like a good choice.” Sebastian set his fancy flute beside the plate. “In that case, I’d better hold off on those so I can drive us there.”
Us? An even bigger and more forbidden thrill cut through her belly. Well, she had just offered to show him where it was. He must have taken that to mean that she would be drinking with him.
If she was going to correct him, now was the time. Instead, she set her own glass down next to his.
Didn’t she deserve to drown her sorrows? She had always been about playing the good girl, and look where that had gotten her: abandoned and forgotten. Couldn’t she, for one night, do something daring? Something a little out of character?
She didn’t have to work in the morning. And if she was honest, having a man like Sebastian take an interest in her was highly flattering.
Not that he had. Not really.
The sound of spoons clinking against glasses began to filter up to their table, growing in volume until it almost drowned out the music. Right on cue, Natália and Adam turned to each other and kissed. Murmured to each other.
She glanced at Sebastian. Not even a hint at a smile. Wow, something really was wrong.
Just then an older gentleman at one of the center tables stood and lifted his glass high, sweeping it from side to side as if trying to gain everyone’s attention. The music stuttered, then faded to nothing.
The guest gave a toothy grin, staring up at them. “I’d like choo propose a toast. To my darrrrling girl and her new husband.”
The voice slurred its way through the words, and the woman next to him tugged on his sleeve, urging him to sit down. Sebastian’s hands curled into fists on the table, and he turned to Adam and Natália. Her friend seemed frozen in time.
“Do you want me to ask him to leave?”
Adam nodded at him, but Natália laid a hand on his arm. “No. It’s okay. Mom will get him back under control. If she can’t...”
The groom leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Just say the word, and I’ll take care of it.” He then glanced at Sebastian. “Can you propose your toast now, to get everyone pointed in the right direction? Then we’ll get the dancing started. Hopefully that will circumvent any more problems.”
“Sure thing.” Picking up his own glass, he made a tall and imposing figure as he went to stand behind Adam and Natália’s chairs. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”
The whole barn went silent. He waited a second or two longer, and Sara was pretty sure he leveled a glare at the man who’d made the previous toast.
“I’ve known these two people for a very long time.” A couple of chuckles came from the tables below. “And while in all those years I never dreamed this would happen, I’m happy for them. Genuinely happy.”
His gaze softened, and he put a hand on Natália’s shoulder. Tears gathered in her eyes as she mouthed, “Thank you.”
Sebastian continued. “And while I gave them a hard time of it for a while, I can’t think of two people more deserving of happiness. May you have many years of it.” He raised his glass. “To my sister and my best friend. Cheers.”
Sara remembered to grab her champagne just in time to take a sip along with everyone else. Adam stood, and he and Sebastian embraced.
Then the groom held out his hand to Natália. “Dance with me.”
They made their way down to the floor where thick wooden planks had been fitted together to form a dance area. The music started back up, taking on a slower, more intimate tone that was perfect for the couple’s first journey around the room. Adam swept his new bride into his arms and smiled down at her.
It was beautiful. They were beautiful.
Her dad had made the right decision in having the wedding here, despite her earlier reservations. Sebastian sat back down, and only then did she realize he’d never lifted his glass to his mouth after giving his toast. Had he not meant what he’d said?
Struggling to find something to say, she settled for, “Nice job.”
He gave that wry smile that jerked at her tummy muscles. “Would you believe I wrote the words on my palm so I wouldn’t forget them?”
“No.”
She’d seen those hands, and there was nothing on them except a light, masculine dusting of hair. Neither had there been anything on them when his fingers had brushed her palm in a way that had shattered her composure.
His smile widened. “Well, I probably should have. I think that concludes my duties as best man. I am more than ready for that cachaça. Do you want to stay for the rest of the reception?”
She had a feeling his real motivation in wanting to leave was to avoid the toast maker from a few minutes ago. The same man he’d been trying to evade earlier? It had to be his father. Or stepfather, if she was reading the signs correctly.
Did she want to stay? He was obviously giving her an out.
She should take it and run.
And do what? Sit here all by herself while the happy couple—and everyone else—celebrated all around her?
No. She deserved a little bit of fun too, especially after all she had been through in the last several weeks.
“I’m not really interested in staying. Besides, I need to show you where the place is, remember?”
He studied her for a minute. “Are you sure? I probably won’t be in any condition to drive you home afterward.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl, and this is a very small town.”
“Let me tell Adam I’m leaving, then. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She had a feeling he wanted to make sure his friend could handle things with the older man, if they got out of hand.
A minute later, he was back beside her chair. “Okay, he cut me loose.”
They ducked out of the same entrance they’d come in at. By now, it was dark, the lights from the barn spilling out onto the ground. When they reached the parking area, he stopped in front of a sleek silver sports car.
“Are you sure you want to ride with me?”
There was something loaded about that question. The memory of his shoulder pressed tight against hers rolled through her mind, along with a warm, prickly sense of need.
This was a man who could help her forget the ache of loss in a way that no amount of champagne or Brazil’s famed sugarcane alcohol, cachaça, ever could. If she dared to let him.
And suddenly she realized that’s exactly what she wanted. To forget. For a few hours. Or an entire night. Whichever one he was offering.
“I’m very sure. I’ll ride with you.”
He paused for a second, then leaned down and brushed his lips across hers, the briefest of touches that left her trembling and wanting more. So much more.
When he opened the passenger side door, he murmured, “Buckle up, Sara, because if I’m reading this correctly, things could get very, very bumpy before the night is over.”
She sank into the plush leather seat and clicked her seat belt into place, yanking it tight. “Is that a promise?”
“It is now.” His fingers feathered across her cheek and were gone. “And I never go back on my word.”
* * *
It was all a blur.
Sebastian Texeira’s arm stretched to the side and found...nothing. Sitting up, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair and glanced at the pillow on the bed next to him.
She was gone. Not even the indentation of her head remained. Should he be relieved or upset?
He wasn’t sure of anything right now.
Deep purple curtains hid the view outside. And the same gaudy color was splashed with a generous hand throughout the room.
Damn. A motel.
But it had been the closest place to the bar. Not an accident, obviously.
He groaned and fell back against his own pillow. He hadn’t even had the decency to take her to a respectable place?
The motels in his country were all used for the same thing. Cheap encounters at a cheap price. Normally the place where affairs took place.
The type of place his dad would have holed up for a few hours.
His father had been the reason he’d been hell bent on getting away from the wedding as soon as possible. He’d had no desire to talk to his parents. And that toast his dad had given had been cringe-worthy.
What he hadn’t expected was for Sara Moreira to offer to go with him. Or to climb into the taxi beside him as he’d headed for this place. Which meant his car was still at the liquor joint.
He swallowed and closed his eyes. Except as soon as he did, images of the frantic press of mouths and bodies moving deep into the night flashed behind his eyelids. He snapped them back open.
He lifted the purple bedspread and peered underneath.
Still naked. Damn.
Where were his clothes? He scanned the room.
There. On the dresser. His formalwear was neatly stacked and folded.
Relief was beginning to outweigh regret and the throbbing in his head. It was easier this way. She obviously didn’t want to be found here with him. And that was fine with him. He’d rather her dad not find out about this at all. Although Antônio Moreira was no longer his patient, it could still prove to be awkward.
Climbing out of bed and stalking toward the bathroom, he showered quickly, using the tiny bottles of products he found on the counter. They were untouched, the seals intact until he opened them. She’d left in a hurry, evidently.
He finished and toweled off, his nerves beginning to settle as he padded back into the bedroom.
It was okay. Yes, he’d had a few too many drinks. Yes, he’d shared a couple of hours at a motel with a beautiful woman.
That this was not his normal behavior didn’t matter. What was done was done.
The shock of his sister and his best friend deciding they were “in love” had still not worn off, almost a year later. He’d kept thinking it was just a phase, that they would get over it. They hadn’t. And as of yesterday they’d sealed the deal. They were married.
He shook off the thoughts, snagging his clothes from the dresser and jerking them on. He should have at least thought to bring along some jeans to change into.
Grabbing his wallet from the heart-shaped nightstand, his lip curled in disgust at the gaudy furnishings, an over-the-top nod to what the room was designed for, from the cheerful wicker basket of condoms on the dresser to the...
His gaze jerked back.
Condoms.
And three torn Cellophane wrappers.
He blew out a breath. At least they’d been protected. Both he and Sara were free and clear. And that’s the way he intended to keep it.
No weddings or rings in his future—he was strictly a best man kind of guy. Although as he’d held that ring over Sara’s hand, he’d had the weirdest sense of déjà vu. Only here in the motel room, there was no ‘déjà’ and no ‘vu’. There was only him.
No wife. No children.
And “for as long as he alone shall live”, that was exactly the way it was going to stay.
