Page 94 of Bad Rio

Before Rio, she’d been fine. She’d enjoyed a reasonable family, good friends, a nice condo. Now, she defined her life asBefore RioandAfter Rio.

After Riowas dismal.

The short while he’d belonged to her hadn’t been near long enough. He’d roared into her life like a speeding freight train, grabbed her up, and took her aboard for the wildest ride of her life.

On the other side of that ride, all was calm, peaceful. And lonely. He wasgone. She was still having trouble adjusting to the agony that wasAfter Rio.

Using the heels of her hands, she dug them into her eye sockets.

Now at her desk, she wondered where Rio was, what he was doing. Did he ever think of her? The usual pain in her chest clamped down, the endless aching, the hopelessness.

Her brother James stuck his head into her office. “Want some lunch? John and I are headed out for burgers. We can bring you back something.”

“Naw.” She hadn’t realized it was already lunchtime. Of late, her appetite was a thing long dead. “Thanks, but I’ve got a salad in the fridge.”

“That salad is a week old, Becca,” James said. “It’s wilted lettuce and soggy tomatoes.”

“Yeah, you barely eat any more.” John appeared over his brother’s shoulder. “C’mon, let us bring you back a juicy cheeseburger and fries.”

“Or better yet, come with us. You’ve been moping around long enough.” James gestured at her.

“I’m not moping—”

“Okay, okay. Just ... smile once in a while, all right? It’s hard on us all, with Dad in jail and probably ending up in a federal penitentiary. But he wants us tolive, Becca. To have normal lives.”

In truth, the fact that their father was going to be convicted made her sad, but it wasn’t why she’d beenmoping around. She tried once again to focus on her work order.

“I’ll buy her lunch.” A deep voice came from behind the boys, and a taller man brushed by them.

Becca glanced up, shocked. Rio.

He wore jeans, tennis shoes, and a black t-shirt.

Her mouth fell open and she gasped. While she’d daydreamed about him constantly, obsessively, more than eight weeks ago he’d said a very definitive goodbye to her. She’d believed that when he said he was leaving, he meant it. Never did she think he’d come strolling into her office. Her heartbeat escalated to double time. It pounded so hard she felt lightheaded.

She had absolutely no idea what to say.

He walked to her and squatted beside her chair. Taking her hand in his, he held her gaze. His blue eyes were every bit as beautiful as she’d remembered. His thick, blond hair was still longish, growing nearly past his shirt collar, with strands rakishly falling over his forehead. He was tanned, lean, fit.

Freaking gorgeous.

Resisting the urge to look around for paparazzi cameras, Becca swallowed hard. Of course there were no cameras. He was not a movie star, and he was alone.

Stroking her fingers gently, he said, “I’ve missed you, Becca.”

Still in the doorway, the boys elbowed each other and grinned.

Frozen to her chair, Becca returned his gaze. Woodenly, she said, “Told you ... you’d miss me.”

“You said I’d miss yousomething awful. And I have. You were right. It’s been awful.”

“Ha!” she whispered. Withdrawing her hand, the memory of their last scene burst into her mind. The one where he’d walked out on her. The one where he’d disparaged her business. It was a sword plunged into her back, his casual betrayal, his dismissal. With dull eyes, she gazed at him. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to tell you a few things, explain about some changes I’ve made. And to ask you something.”

In the hallway, the boys glanced at each other. One identical face studied the other. “Looks like this is about to get personal.”

“And private,” the other said.

---