equaled the ones which once hung in her closet in Washington, D.C. As a diplomat’s wife she’d been expected to make the rounds of the endless parties in the capitol city.
The elegant little shops in the trendy
Zona Rosa
carried creations by Von Furstenberg, Givenchy, Ungaro, Missoni and Chloé, and a larger shop yielded leather treasures of Gucci, Bally, and Cole-Hann.
She tried on dresses, suits, and accessories, giving her approval and not permitting herself to succumb to the excitement of being graced with exquisite, eyecatching fashions many women dream about.
Matt escorted her into a jewelry store, unaware that her monosyllabic responses were due to heat exhaustion. Her body hadn’t adjusted to Mexico City’s unusually high spring temperatures.
“What kind of ring do you want?” he questioned, grasping her hand and helping her sit on a delicate chair in a corner of the shop.
She tried smiling. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Diamond, ruby, sapphire, emerald. It’s your call.”
She stared at him, marvelling at how he still appeared alert and unruffled by the extreme heat. His white cotton shirt was crisp and wrinkle free. He hadn’t removed his jacket in any of the shops or made an attempt to loosen his tie.
All of the upscale shops were air-conditioned, but once they stepped outside onto the overpopulated streets with the smog and thermal inversion, she experienced difficulty breathing normally.
Matt took a chair beside her and she placed a hand on his arm. “You make the selection.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You trust me?”
Her smile was spontaneous for the first time in more than two hours. “Of course.”
He splayed one hand possessively at the small of her back while gesturing for a salesperson. Eve waited as the salesman measured her finger, listening as Matt described his preferences. He favored rubies set in yellow gold, and she lost count of the number of rings slipped on and off her finger.
They listened to the salesman extolling the superior quality of a two-carat oval ruby surrounded by a double row of channel-set diamonds. She spread her outstretched fingers under a lamp on the antique table, admiring the flawless quality of the blood-red stone.
Matt cradled her fingers in his larger hand. “I’ll take it.”
Her gaze lingered on his face. “You like the color red.” It was more of a statement than a question.
He leaned closer, his warm breath sweeping over her ear. “Only on you. It complements your beauty.” Their gazes met and held. The rich, vibrant color emphasized the gold undertones in Eve’s flawless skin.
“Thank you.” The two words were so simple, yet conveyed all of the appreciation she felt for Matt at that moment. It wasn’t the clothes or the jewelry—she had had those with Alex. It was Matthew Sterling—the man.
He was offering her hope.
Chapter 7
T he onset of
siesta
began in practiced precision as shopkeepers closed their doors, dimmed lights, drew shutters, and unfurled awnings.
Eve and Matt walked out of the jewelry shop, stopping abruptly. A blackened sky and large drops of rain greeted them. Pedestrians quickened their pace to get out of what was certain to become a torrential downpour.
“Wait here,” Matt suggested. “I’ll bring the car around.”
Eve moved closer to him under the shop’s awning, curving an arm around his waist. His car was parked three blocks away.
“No. I’ll go with you.”
He stared down at her bowed head. “You’ll get wet.”
“I don’t care.” She didn’t want him to leave her.
He hesitated, then said, “Okay. Let’s go.”
Holding her hand, he half-jogged along thesidewalk, skirting others in their rush to get out of the rain. Eve, quickening her pace, followed Matt’s lead. Both of them were soaked by the time they were seated inside the Lincoln, the sounds of their heavy breathing reverberating in the confined space.
Matt glanced over at Eve and went still. Her thin white blouse was
The elegant little shops in the trendy
Zona Rosa
carried creations by Von Furstenberg, Givenchy, Ungaro, Missoni and Chloé, and a larger shop yielded leather treasures of Gucci, Bally, and Cole-Hann.
She tried on dresses, suits, and accessories, giving her approval and not permitting herself to succumb to the excitement of being graced with exquisite, eyecatching fashions many women dream about.
Matt escorted her into a jewelry store, unaware that her monosyllabic responses were due to heat exhaustion. Her body hadn’t adjusted to Mexico City’s unusually high spring temperatures.
“What kind of ring do you want?” he questioned, grasping her hand and helping her sit on a delicate chair in a corner of the shop.
She tried smiling. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Diamond, ruby, sapphire, emerald. It’s your call.”
She stared at him, marvelling at how he still appeared alert and unruffled by the extreme heat. His white cotton shirt was crisp and wrinkle free. He hadn’t removed his jacket in any of the shops or made an attempt to loosen his tie.
All of the upscale shops were air-conditioned, but once they stepped outside onto the overpopulated streets with the smog and thermal inversion, she experienced difficulty breathing normally.
Matt took a chair beside her and she placed a hand on his arm. “You make the selection.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You trust me?”
Her smile was spontaneous for the first time in more than two hours. “Of course.”
He splayed one hand possessively at the small of her back while gesturing for a salesperson. Eve waited as the salesman measured her finger, listening as Matt described his preferences. He favored rubies set in yellow gold, and she lost count of the number of rings slipped on and off her finger.
They listened to the salesman extolling the superior quality of a two-carat oval ruby surrounded by a double row of channel-set diamonds. She spread her outstretched fingers under a lamp on the antique table, admiring the flawless quality of the blood-red stone.
Matt cradled her fingers in his larger hand. “I’ll take it.”
Her gaze lingered on his face. “You like the color red.” It was more of a statement than a question.
He leaned closer, his warm breath sweeping over her ear. “Only on you. It complements your beauty.” Their gazes met and held. The rich, vibrant color emphasized the gold undertones in Eve’s flawless skin.
“Thank you.” The two words were so simple, yet conveyed all of the appreciation she felt for Matt at that moment. It wasn’t the clothes or the jewelry—she had had those with Alex. It was Matthew Sterling—the man.
He was offering her hope.
Chapter 7
T he onset of
siesta
began in practiced precision as shopkeepers closed their doors, dimmed lights, drew shutters, and unfurled awnings.
Eve and Matt walked out of the jewelry shop, stopping abruptly. A blackened sky and large drops of rain greeted them. Pedestrians quickened their pace to get out of what was certain to become a torrential downpour.
“Wait here,” Matt suggested. “I’ll bring the car around.”
Eve moved closer to him under the shop’s awning, curving an arm around his waist. His car was parked three blocks away.
“No. I’ll go with you.”
He stared down at her bowed head. “You’ll get wet.”
“I don’t care.” She didn’t want him to leave her.
He hesitated, then said, “Okay. Let’s go.”
Holding her hand, he half-jogged along thesidewalk, skirting others in their rush to get out of the rain. Eve, quickening her pace, followed Matt’s lead. Both of them were soaked by the time they were seated inside the Lincoln, the sounds of their heavy breathing reverberating in the confined space.
Matt glanced over at Eve and went still. Her thin white blouse was
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