Page 4 of The Bride's Billionaire

“I come here on business frequently, usually for my clients.”

She nodded.

He didn’t want to talk about work, the reasons he was in Brazil, or anything having to do with the life he had to return to in the morning. He had a huge meeting and an important presentation, but it could wait. She didn’t seem to want to talk work either. The whole topic put a damper on their night, in his mind, so he pushed away the stress of tomorrow and the pressure he was under to seal the deal with a new client.

The sun had now completely set, and the air was growing cooler. She pulled her wrap up around her.

“I have just the place for our next stop.” He eyed her. “But I must have the answer to one question first.” He cleared his throat, making a show of drawing it out. “How do you feel about the…samba?” His eyebrows wiggled.

She leaned forward. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”

“Then you’re on.” He stood, dropped a folded wad of bills on the table, and they left. He hurried through the back of the restaurant, and they exited onto a street bustling with nightlife. “They have the best nightclub just up here a ways.”

“I picked the best tour guide.” She hurried at his side.

“And I the best date.”

She smiled at his response. Perhaps she was enjoying his company as much as he enjoyed hers.

He laced their fingers together again. “Tell me something you’ve always been afraid to do.”

Giving him a look of surprise at his abrupt change of topic, she thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s hard for me to answer questions like this. My mind freezes up.”

“Okay, I’ll get us started. I’m afraid of karaoke.”

She tilted her head. “That surprises me. You don’t seem to be afraid of attention.”

“It’s not people looking at me, it’s the singing part. I don’t know if I’m any good, and I don’t want to get up there and make a fool of myself.”

She nodded. “I can see your point. I guess it doesn’t bother me because I don’t have any real expectations. I don’t care if I fail miserably.” She snorted. “And usually everyone else is drunk.”

He laughed. “Everyone else?”

“Well, yeah, I don’t drink.”

“What? Neither do I.” He raised his eyebrows in question and then explained, “I just don’t like losing that edge. People drink to take the edge off, you know, lose a little inhibition, relax, whatever. I like the edge.”

She nodded but didn’t offer any reasons for her choice. “We should do it.”

“Do what?” He was starting to wonder if it had been a good idea to discuss this topic with her after all.

“The things we’re afraid of.”

“Well, what areyouafraid of?”

“Swimming at night.”

He eyed her for a moment. “Really?”

“Well, sure. It’s dark; you can’t see your feet. Or anything.” She shivered. “Petrifying.”

He thought for a minute. A steady stream of people surged around them, people jostling them as they came and went. They were one block away from the beach, and shops, bars, and restaurants lined the street on either side. “You’re on. We’ll find a way to face our fears tonight.”

She smiled. “Or not. Now that you say it like that, so definitively, I’m not so sure I want to face them.”

“We’ll think about it, how’s that? But later. We still have to get through the Samba.”

“Get through? No way, I’m totally excited about this.”

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