Santiago’s gaze followed Abena as she moved through the ballroom. She smiled every so often, but her expression was off. And where was Marc? He hadn’t seen the doctor in quite a while. Not with Abena and nowhere else, either.

“I don’t feel as if I have your attention at all tonight.” His date arched a brow and followed his gaze across the room.

Santiago smoothed a hand down the front of his jacket and laughed easily, ready to pour on the charm. “I have to admit, I’ve been distracted. So much on my mind with work and this new position. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, I think I do.” Her eyes held a knowing glint, but there was no anger there. Only resignation. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, but I’m not the kind of woman who overstays her welcome. Goodbye, Santiago.”

“Where are you going? Let me—”

“Don’t worry about me. I drove, remember? And I’m a big girl. I can find my own way home.” She raised up on her toes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. “It’s been a pleasure,” she purred, smoothing a hand down his chest, her eyes filled with longing.

Why couldn’t he muster any interest? His mind barely registered that if he pushed, even a little, he could change her mind. Instead of working toward that goal, he watched her sashay toward the double doors.

Thanks to Abena, he’d be spending the night alone, and she didn’t have to do anything except just be. Movement across the room caught his eye. There she was, on her way out the door.

Santiago took off in the same direction and followed her outside.

He came to stand beside her. “You’re leaving early.”

“I delivered the check so my job is done.”

“Care to talk about what happened between you and Marc?”

“No.” Something had clearly happened. A pained expression filled her eyes, and they held a reddish hue, as if she’d been crying.

“Let me give you a ride,” he said quietly.

“Where is your date?”

“She left.”

One eyebrow raised in surprise. “What did you do to the poor woman?”

“She noticed I couldn’t take my eyes off a certain woman from Ghana.”

For a brief moment, her features softened before returning to an impassive state.

“So, can I give you a ride?” Santiago asked.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Haven’t you had enough of arguing for one night?”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine. I’m done arguing.”

“Good.” He marched over to the valet and handed over his ticket. He and Abena then waited in silence, watching guests of the hotel come and go. Distracted, she stared off into the dark parking lot.

Within minutes, his vehicle arrived, purchased within the past week. A red Ferrari, as cliché as one could get, but he liked the attention the car garnered, and he’d earned the right to treat himself to such an extravagant gift. He let Abena into the vehicle, watching as she crossed her legs and the hemline of her dress rode up her thigh.

He dragged in a labored breath and silently cursed, then walked stiffly around to the driver’s side. “Where to?” he asked, from behind the wheel.

“My aunt’s house.” She gave him the address, which he plugged into the GPS, and they took off.

They drove in silence. From the corner of his eye, he saw her send a text and then wait. A beep sounded when a message came back. She sent another text and then tucked the phone into her purse. Clasping her hands in her lap, she stared out the side window.

“Where’s Marc?”

She took a while to respond. With obvious reluctance, she replied, “I don’t know if I should answer your question.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to hear you gloat.”

“I promise not to gloat.”

She watched him from the corner of her eye. “He left early.”

“Why?” Santiago shifted gears. When she didn’t answer, he said, “Just tell me if he hurt you.”

She laughed shortly, twisting the diamond on her finger. He averted his eyes. He hated that thing. Hated it meant she was taken.

“He didn’t hurt me. I hurt him. The engagement is off, thanks to you.”

His elation was temporarily eclipsed by a flash of anger. “You went to the event with him, but he left you there alone?”

“I guess since we broke up, he doesn’t feel any responsibility toward me.”

“I would never leave a woman stranded,” Santiago muttered.

She fell quiet and returned her gaze to the side window.

He glanced at her. “He was an ass to you.”

“Well, now our relationship is over.”

“Then you should thank me. He treated you like property.”

“You don’t know that!” Abena snapped.

“It was obvious. You were his servant.”

“And you saw all of this after you met him tonight?”

“Tonight, and listening to your side of the conversation the night Esposito rented out the restaurant. He expected you to cater to him.”

“Maybe I wanted to.”

“Doubtful. Not in the way he expected, anyway.”

They didn’t speak another word until Santiago pulled into the subdivision.

Abena pointed. “That’s the house right there, with the black car in the driveway.”

Santiago pulled to a stop and hopped out at the same time Abena did. “Thank you for the lift,” she said, walking to the door.

“I didn’t mind.” His gaze drifted over her shapely body in the sparkly dress.

The motion lights came on and lit the way to the front door.

She turned to face him. “Well, I’m here. Thank you again.”

He hesitated to walk away from her. “Are you going to be all right?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Perfect. Life couldn’t be better. I simply have to adjust my plans, and figure out how I got here.” She shook her head and sighed. “I need to sleep. Maybe everything will be clearer in the morning.”

“Why did you say he broke up with you because of me?”

She let out a soft breath that filtered past rosebud lips painted in wine-colored lipstick, which brought attention to their fullness. “Marc thought there was something between us,” she said quietly.

“He’s not wrong.”

“There’s nothing between us.”

“You’re fooling yourself. That kiss on the rooftop of Patagonia—”

“—was completely unexpected and unwanted and—”

“—proves there’s something very much alive between us, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. You were never going to marry him.”

“I was going to marry him. He was my future.”

“A bleak future.”

“You’re so sure?’

“I know his type. I’ve seen them before. He’s a bully, and the minute you signed the marriage license, your life would have changed for the worse. He barely contained his rage at you tonight. You know I’m right.”

She glanced away and obstinately refused to admit his words mirrored her thoughts.

“Abena.”

Her gaze met his.

Santiago walked closer, blocking the light and casting her small frame in shadow. He braced a hand above the door and leaned in. “It’s too soon, I know. Tonight you ended a serious relationship, and maybe your hurt will turn to anger tomorrow.” He touched the soft skin of her chin with his forefinger, and she released a silent breath. “But if you need a friend, I’m here.”

“Just a friend?” she asked, gazing up at him.

The vulnerability in her eyes twisted in his gut, mingled with a need for her that burned as bright as the stars above. “If you need more, you have to come to me of your own free will. And when you come, I won’t be stopping like I did the first time.”

He kissed her chin, and she let out a faint little moan, releasing a shaky breath.

“You’re impossible,” she whispered.

He smiled and pulled back before the urge to lift her against the door overtook him. The scent of her skin already filled his nostrils—the same lemony aroma that haunted his days and made him relive the memory of her and their closeness in Argentina. He wanted the scent of lemons in his sheets. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything so much.

“Good night. I’ll see you in a week.”

“A week?”

“I’m headed to California, and then up to New York to talk to Chef Carlucci. See if I can convince him to work in our Manhattan restaurant.” Getting a meeting with the man had practically taken an act of God. But Santiago’s tenacity had finally paid off.

“Oh, right.” If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was disappointed. “I’ll see you in a week, then.”

Santiago stuffed his hands into his pockets again. “Go inside, before I change my mind about waiting and kidnap you from the driveway of your aunt’s house.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, as if she were considering such an option. But then with no further urging, she went inside and softly closed the door behind her.

Santiago went and stood next to his car for a moment, wondering when this good guy gene had developed. The restraint he exhibited around this woman was incomprehensible, even to himself.

Frowning, he climbed into the car and drove away.

---

Going home to her empty condo had been the last thing Abena wanted to do. A quick text to her aunt meant she’d be welcomed once she arrived.

She removed her heels and walked barefoot into the living room where her Aunt Baaba watched television in her night clothes. The image on the large screen flickered on the walls and across the older woman’s face.

The moment Baaba opened her arms, tears pricked the back of Abena’s eyes, and she collapsed onto the sofa, pressing her face into her aunt’s meaty bosom.

“Shh, shh. It’s his loss.” Baaba gently rubbed her back and shoulders.

When Abena felt as if she’d cried enough, she lifted her head and sighed. “I wanted to get married, but somehow I screwed it up.”

Baaba clasped her face in her hands. “You did not screw up.”

“Is our breakup going to make work difficult for you—you know, because Marc is at the hospital, too?”

“Of course not, child. I’m the head nurse. I run that floor.”

Abena gave her a watery smile and wiped away an errant tear scrolling down her cheek. She rested her head on her aunt’s shoulder and sighed. “I wanted to love him the way I should. And even though a part of me is sad, what happened was a good thing. I saw a side of him tonight I didn’t like.” She recalled Santiago’s words about how Marc would have changed dramatically after they were married.

“What do you mean?”

“He was…ugly. Mean.” She didn’t mention he’d squeezed her arm and probably would have done much more if Santiago hadn’t warned him. If she mentioned any of that to her aunt, Baaba might round up a posse to go kick his ass. “I never told you about my feelings for someone else.”

Baaba’s comforting back rub paused. “Someone else? Who?”

Abena took a tremulous breath. “A man I work with. He and I have a connection. I don’t know how to explain it, except to say he’s everything I should stay away from.” She laughed softly.

“The forbidden fruit presents the greatest temptation.”

“Why is that?”

“Life, child.” Baaba resumed rubbing Abena’s back. “How do you feel about the breakup?”

“Relieved,” Abena admitted.

“Then it wasn’t real love.” Baaba tilted her chin up. “Love consumes you, and you have no control over it. The South Africans have a saying: Love, like rain, does not choose the grass on which it falls. You can’t choose who you love, my dear. If we could, there would be far less heartache in the world.”

“True.” Abena sighed. “I have to tell Mommy.”

“We can tell her together. Try not to worry too much.”

Abena rested her head on her aunt’s shoulder and did what she suggested. She tried not to worry.