Kidnapping the Brazilian Tycoon by Carmen Falcone

started working and decided he wanted to help support their father and younger siblings.
    He sat on the black-iron swing in the middle of the porch encircled with colorful plants. To the right, an inviting stepping-stone pathway led to manicured, bright green grass. Tall lamps outlined the garden all the way to the sundeck, where there were tables and chairs and an outdoor barbecue grill.
    He stretched his legs, and Torto greeted him with his slobbery mouth. Bruno scratched behind his ears, and the dog wagged his tail.
    Leonardo had flown to São Paulo for business, and Camila had taken Addie out shopping and sightseeing. For a good part of the day, he had been stuck in the home office, checking emails, making calls, and polishing an impending project. The outstanding team he had mentored in New York kept him updated. With his growing bank account, he didn’t have to write codes or build platforms any longer; yet, he enjoyed closely monitoring high-profile accounts. The world of software fascinated him. It was a world he understood. Unlike the relationship he had with her…
    Addie Duarte. His temporary wife. Avoiding her had been his strategy to overcome that growing sexual pull between them. She had drilled him with questions on their wedding night, and, damn it, she rubbed it in his face that he’d been a gardener. What else would she do, if she discovered more?
    He lifted the bottle to his lips and enjoyed another sip. This time, the liquid thickened in his throat.
    The clunk of wedge sandals on the tiled floor disrupted his thoughts.
    Addie came from the back door and walked with both hands intertwined, her fingers playing with each other. Her lips curled into a mock smile.
    “Not even a whole day of marriage, and you’ve already resorted to drinking?” she said, then sobered. “How’s your father?”
    This was the first time they were alone all day. He’d woken up before she had, but not without a quick glance at how peacefully she’d slept. She’d made the couch look…cozy. Sleeping away from her had been the right choice. After facing Serena, memories he wanted dead and gone had resurfaced. He’d broken Serena’s heart, and, ever since, he’d stayed away from serious relationships. He wasn’t the man who provoked warm and fluffy emotions. He excelled at sex, yeah, but that was where it ended. A woman like Addie, as stubborn and inquiring as she was, deserved better. Better than him.
    “He’s okay.” He shook his head and rose to his feet.
    She must have just showered—her damp hair smelled like wild strawberries.
    He motioned for her to have a seat on the swing. A few other lounge chairs surrounded them, but his body’s fidgety response to her prevented him from sitting. Fire ants crawling on his skin wouldn’t make him this restless. “He’s sleeping.”
    She chose not to sit and instead stepped back just under the recessed lighting. Even in plain capris from their New York shopping trip and a ratty green T-shirt, she looked delicious. She was slim, but, damn, her ass was plump, and the capris hugged in all the right places. “Another effort to remain true to yourself?” he pointed to the shirt.
    “Does that make me evil?”
    “It makes you naïve if you think a piece of clothing will represent the essence of your soul.”
    She chuckled. “Deep thoughts, Mr. Moneypants. Coming from a man who thinks a woman has to wear overpriced cocktail dresses and handbags to be worthy of being your wife.”
    Worthy . The word spilled acid in his stomach. “Temporary wife.”
    “That’s what I meant.” She shrugged. “What are you going to do when you find someone you really want to be with and marry? Fancy labels can’t replace a real relationship.”
    “You’re starting to sound like Camila.”
    He turned and resumed staring at the front yard. And then, out of nowhere, she leaped toward him and grasped his arm, her cold palm over his warm skin.
    Addie’s face paled like she had seen a