Tina Beckett - Postcards From Rio

He did not reply and she wondered why he was staring at her as if she had grown another head. ‘What’s wrong?’ she said shakily. ‘Do I have another lizard on me?’

‘I thought nuns had to cut their hair short.’

Idiot, Clare silently berated herself. She had forgotten that she wasn’t wearing her nun’s habit and veil. Her hair had dried quickly after her shower, but the humidity and the fact that she did not have her straighteners had resulted in a wild tangle of curls tumbling halfway down her back. She tensed as Diego reached out and wound a curl around his fingers.

‘It feels like silk,’ he murmured. ‘And it’s such an amazing colour. It reminds me of the conkers I saw children collecting in England when I was there one autumn.’ His eyes narrowed on Clare’s flushed face. ‘It’s a pity to hide such beautiful hair beneath a veil.’

She sensed he was waiting for an explanation and searched her mind for one. ‘I’m a novice, which is why I wear a white veil instead of a black one. I don’t have to cut my hair until I take my final vows.’

‘When will you do that?’

‘Soon,’ she assured him quickly.

Diego shut the door of the Jeep and resumed his position stretched out on the mattress with his shoulders propped against a pile of cushions. He tucked his hands behind his head and the action drew Clare’s gaze to his bare chest and superb muscle definition.

‘So you are not yet absolutely committed to your cause?’ he said softly. ‘You could change your mind?’

The speculative gleam in his light grey eyes sent a quiver along her spine as she became aware of the sexual chemistry fizzing in the close confines of the Jeep. Clare realised she had swapped one danger for another. She had felt unsafe in the hut, but her intense awareness of Diego could prove to be a greater threat to her peace of mind, especially when his gaze lingered quite blatantly on her breasts that were inadequately covered by her cotton chemise.

She remembered Becky and the vital reason why she needed to get to Torrente. ‘Nothing will deter me from the path I have chosen.’

His mouth curved into a sexy smile that should be illegal in front of susceptible females. ‘You don’t think you could be tempted to choose a different path?’

Heaven help her. She wished he would stop looking at her as if he was imagining stripping her naked and having his wicked way with her. She glanced rather desperately around the Jeep for something to cover herself with. ‘Could I borrow a sleeping bag?’

‘Help yourself.’

She unzipped the bag and gave it a thorough inspection for tarantulas before she got into it and pulled the zip up to her chin. Immediately her temperature soared but at least her body was hidden from Diego’s gaze. ‘Temptation is the work of the devil,’ she said primly.

‘Are you telling me you have never been tempted by desire, which is a perfectly natural human instinct?’

His voice was like molten syrup sliding sensuously over her body, inciting all sorts of shocking images in her head. She was fiercely attracted to Diego but she certainly wasn’t going to admit it. ‘If I did ever feel tempted...I would pray until those feelings passed.’

The Jeep was suddenly plunged into blackness as Diego switched off the lamp. Clare heard him moving. He was obviously trying to get comfortable but his height meant that he had to lie diagonally across the Jeep.

‘While you’re praying to be delivered from temptation, maybe you could say one for me, Sister,’ he muttered. ‘You’d better pray real hard because I keep picturing you in your cotton nightdress and I’ll be honest, I’ve never been so tempted by a woman in my life.’

If the devil did exist and was waiting to receive sinners into the fires of hell, he was toast, Diego thought to himself. He was burning up with desire to unzip Sister Clare’s sleeping bag and remove the tantalising, almost see-through garment she was wearing. If he had ever given a thought to what nuns wore in bed he would have guessed something demure and ankle-length, not a sexy little slip that left little to his imagination.

‘I’m sorry I interrupted you when you were reading,’ she said quietly. Her voice was as soft as the velvet darkness surrounding them. ‘You told me you had a poor education, so when did you discover an appreciation of classic and contemporary literature? I noticed you have a collection of books by a wide range of authors.’

The question took Diego back almost two decades to when he and Cruz had been employed by Earl Bancroft. His first instinct was to tell Sister Clare to mind her own business, but he needed something to distract his thoughts from his damnable desire for her.

‘I once worked at a diamond mine in Brazil which was owned by an English earl. My friend was dating the Earl’s daughter, and I used to go to the ranch house with him and chat up the housekeeper.’ He grinned. ‘Lucia was a few years older than me and she taught me a lot.’

‘About literature?’ Clare asked disbelievingly.

‘Well, no. I admit I was more interested in her physical attributes than her mind. But she used to let me borrow books from the Earl’s library while he was away.’

Diego remembered he had been blown away by the number of books to choose from. When he had been in prison, Father Vincenzi had taught him English and encouraged him to read, and he had developed a love of well-written stories—anything from classic literature to political thrillers. After his release he had gone to work at the diamond mine at Montez Claros and had spent his free time in Earl Bancroft’s library, glad to escape his life of hard physical labour while he was absorbed in a book.

‘What happened to your friend who was dating the Earl’s daughter?’ Clare asked curiously.

‘He married her, eventually, and now they have twin boys.’

‘Wouldn’t you like to get married like your friend?’

‘Nope.’

‘Why not?’

Diego gave a contemplative sigh. ‘I had a girlfriend once who liked me to buy her boxes of chocolates, but because she was watching her weight she only ate the strawberry creams and left the other flavours. To me, marriage is like only enjoying your favourite chocolate in a selection box and ignoring all the other flavours, which to my way of thinking is a waste,’ he explained laconically.

Clare made a choked sound. ‘That is the most chauvinistic statement I have ever heard. You are...’ she struggled to find an adjective that conveyed her disgust ‘...astonishing.’

‘You’re not the first woman to think so.’

Clare could not see his expression in the dark Jeep but she pictured his sexy grin. ‘I didn’t mean it in a good way,’ she muttered.

‘I still think that how I choose to live my life is more understandable than your decision to deny yourself the pleasures of physical intimacy,’ he drawled. ‘How can you be certain you won’t want to marry in the future if you have never had a relationship with a man? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to at least date a few guys before you make your final vows?’

‘As a matter of fact I did have a relationship, with a two-timing compulsive liar and cheater.’ She could not disguise the bitterness in her voice when she thought of Mark.

‘Ah.’ Diego’s response was laden with meaning.

Clare frowned. ‘What do you mean, “Ah”?’

‘My theory is that it is possible, likely even, that your decision to become a nun was the result of having your heart broken by the guy who cheated on you.’ Diego sounded satisfied that he had resolved a question that had been niggling him. ‘You were hurt once and you have decided to hide away from life so that you don’t risk getting hurt again.’