could blame him? His wife had cheated. None of it could have been easy for him.
Shaking her head, she opened the door to her car and got back in. If she could just get the darned thing started, she wouldn’t have to face him at all. Her momentary thrill at having gotten a reaction out of him in that exam room had changed to flat-out embarrassment. She’d been mistaken about the expression on his face. She had to be. Her conversation a moment ago confirmed that.
She turned the key in the ignition and heard the same sluggish growl the vehicle had given for the last half-hour. Something was definitely wrong with it.
Another car pulled up beside her. It wasn’t Adam, and the young man seated in the passenger seat made her slightly uneasy. Dark hair and hard eyes surveyed what he could see of her, from her hands clenching the steering wheel to the window that was half-open to let in a little cool air. Maybe she should have waited in the restaurant rather than sitting around in the open with her car in obvious trouble. This wasn’t a particularly dangerous part of São Paulo, but there were always people out there who were willing to take advantage of a vulnerable situation. Her parents had been robbed at gunpoint twice while stopping at night at a traffic light. People had learned to just run the lights if it was late at night, rather than risking a problem.
“Precisa ajuda?”
His words were nice enough, asking if she needed help.
“No, I’m good. I have someone coming. They should be here any minute.”
Instead of discouraging the man, his door clicked open and one scrawny leg appeared followed by another as the man stood. “Maybe I should take a look at it.”
“No, I really am okay. I think I’ll just—”
Her words were cut off when another car pulled up between them, the sleek front bumper coming within inches of the intruder’s knees. The man’s head turned so fast that strands of his lank hair fell over his forehead as he shouted, “Oi, cara, quase me atropelou.”
Oh, damn. That was probably the wrong thing to have said to the owner of this particular vehicle, whose occupant emerged, one hand resting on his door, the other on top of his sports car. “You’ll get a lot more than run over, if you take one more step toward her.”
The driver of the original vehicle called to his buddy, who scowled for a second or two before ducking back inside. The two then peeled out of the parking lot, a cloud of burning rubber filling the air.
Adam slammed the door to his car and crossed the few feet until he was standing next to her little clunker. “If I try the handle to your door, I will find it locked, will I not?”
Her fingers itched to punch the button that would do just that, but he would hear it. “No, because I was just trying to start it one more time before going back into the restaurant. And I have a pretty powerful scream, if you remember.”
One side of his mouth lifted, the anger in his eyes dimming. “I do at that. I also remember how you used to like to shriek right in my and Sebastian’s ears.”
“Only when you were being really mean. Like setting my dollhouse on fire.”
His smile widened. “You never liked that dollhouse.”
She shrugged. “It didn’t matter. Besides, if anyone was going to burn it down, it was going to be me.”
Instead, her parents’ fighting had burned down her whole childhood. Sebastian’s too. She had made the decision that she would not marry someone unless they could be friends outside of the passion. The problem was finding the right balance. It was either friend/friend. Or passion/passion. So far the terms seemed to be mutually exclusive. Maybe she was looking for a unicorn—something that didn’t exist.
“You never did, though.” His grin faded just a little. “So, now that the excitement is all over, what seems to be wrong with your car?”
“I think it’s the battery. Sometimes it acts like it wants to turn over, but other times it just clicks.”
“Try it now.”
Natália obliged, turning the key and giving it her best shot. She had no better luck now than just before those thugs showed up. “See? Do you think a jump will work?”
“No. I bet it’s your starter, which means it will have to be towed to the shop.”
She groaned. “I have to work tomorrow, how am I supposed to get there?”
“We do work at the same place.”
No. That was not an option. “I can take public transport.”
“Have you seen the subways at rush hour?”
“Yes. I used to ride them to school. We all did.”
“That should be reason enough for you to want to avoid them.” He motioned for her to give him a minute and then held his phone to his ear. Once he started talking, it was obvious he had a mechanic on the other end of the line.
Perfect. This was all she needed. Her day had gone haywire from almost the moment she got up that morning.
He was off the phone within seconds. “I have a friend who’s sending a truck. He said he should be able to have it fixed by tomorrow afternoon.”
Not soon enough to avoid having to ride into work with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ridiculous. Why was he taking over and making decisions for her? “What if I had my own mechanic?”
“Do you?”
“Not really.” The misery she felt must have shown on her face because he reached down and opened her door. “Come on, Cinderella. We’ll leave your keys with the owner of the restaurant and I’ll take you home.”
“Public transport.” But the words came out as a sullen mutter, because she already knew it would do no good to suggest it. There was nothing to it but to let Adam take her home.
But if she had her way, it was going to be the shortest trip in history.
“WHY DID YOU tell me you had a date?”
Taking a long pull of the beer Nata had offered him, he leaned back in his chair and studied her. With her hair now piled on top of her head and held with a clip, she had a sheepish look on her face that almost made him laugh. Almost. Because the wave of fury that had churned to life in his gut when he thought she’d been abandoned by some nameless jerk had shocked him. Sebastian would have been mad too. But his anger would have been because Nata was his sister. What was Adam’s excuse?
Something he’d better not examine too closely.
“I have no idea. It just kind of came out. I didn’t expect my car to break down or for anyone to find out.”
“I bet.”
Natália glared at him over her glass of wine. They had split the container of takeout food, Natália saying it was the least she could do to repay him for arranging for the tow and bringing her home. He could have refused to share her meal. Probably should have refused.
He’d been feeling out of sorts for most of the day. Sitting across the table from her wasn’t helping.
“You and Sebastian have always tried to run herd on me, and I didn’t want you taking up where you left off before you...”
She didn’t finish the sentence. What had she been about to say? Before he divorced? Before he left for the United States? Before he’d caught her in her “barely theres” in that damned exam room?
“Your brother and I were worried about you, that’s all.”
“You babied me. From the moment I got my diagnosis. It was irritating.”
“If Sebastian had been diagnosed with cancer, what would