One Night in Buenos Aires Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Stay up all night with these Entangled books… A Lesson in Temptation

  Opening Act

  By Jove

  Just a Kiss

  Mustang Sassy

  Two friends. One hotel room. And a whole lot of heat.

  As a reward for a hard-won contract, best friends Drea and Joe head to Buenos Aires for sun, wine, and the tango. But their week of relaxation is off to an ominous start when a reservation mix-up leaves them with only one option: one room…and one bed.

  Exhausted from travel, the two friends figure it won’t be a big deal to share a bed for one night—right up until they wake wrapped around each other and seconds away from, well, you know.

  When the two decide to follow through on their impulse, they protect their friendship by agreeing that when the vacation’s over, the fling’s over. While Drea’s convinced it’s nothing more than a mutual itch, Joe discovers Drea might be everything he’s ever wanted. Now all he has to do is convince her that what happens in Buenos Aires doesn’t always have to stay in Buenos Aires.

  One Night in

  Buenos Aires

  Amanda K Byrne

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Amanda Byrne. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Edge is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Stephen Morgan

  Cover design by Libby Murphy

  ISBN 978-1-62266-767-3

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition July 2014

  Chapter One

  Buenos Aires, Argentina

  Drea stifled a sigh and dug down for more patience. Joe looked about ready to explode. Red-faced, tight-lipped, eyes narrowed, the whole deal. She didn’t blame him. It had been an aggravating day, and it had just gotten worse.

  She turned back to the desk. “Are you certain there’s no reservation? For either of us?”

  The clerk shook his head. “My apologies.” His accent was thick, and the two words were difficult to understand. “We have a room available, if you would like—”

  “We’ll take it,” she said, elbowing Joe before he could open his mouth to say no. And he would say no. With the mood he was in, he wouldn’t stop at no. He’d add in a whole lot of cussin’, too.

  The clerk handed her the key card. Before she could pick up her bag, Joe nudged her hand aside, grabbed it, gave her a tired smile, and headed for the elevator. She hurried after him and caught up as the doors were closing. He set the bags down and muttered something unintelligible, flexing his hands. She ignored him. If she didn’t, she’d do something stupid. Like hit him.

  He was her friend, she reminded herself. A good friend. A close friend. This trip was supposed to be a celebration of sorts. The hotel chain wanted to expand their advertising presence in the States, and they’d ended up with the winning pitch for the San Mateo account. Their new client was so excited, they’d ponied up an all-expenses paid trip for a week in their newest hotel in Buenos Aires.

  A trip that was supposed to have included a suite with two bedrooms.

  Their room proved to be quite lovely, albeit much smaller than the suite they’d been promised. The walls were painted a soft gray, the spread on the king sized bed a shinier version of the same color. She shivered. The air-conditioning was on high to combat the ninety-plus-degree heat outside. A long way from the freezing temperatures and snow in Boston.

  He set his suitcase down and scowled at the bed. “I’m gonna—”

  “Do what? Throw a temper tantrum at the front desk? They lost the reservation. We’ll deal with it. I’m sure they’ll give us another room when one becomes available.”

  “Right,” he grumbled.

  She stopped her tour of the room by the balcony doors and glared at him, her temper slipping its leash a little. “You know what? I get it. It’s been a long day. A very, very long day. Nothing’s gone right. But we’re here, and I intend to enjoy myself. You have two choices: you can shut up and deal with it, or you can march your skinny ass out that door and go back to the airport.” She ignored his narrow stare. “I’m going to take a shower, and then I’m going for a walk. Alone.” It would give her temper time to cool.

  She brushed past him and hauled her suitcase onto the bed and pulled out clean clothes, then shut herself in the bathroom.

  The shower stall was huge. Sandy-brown tile threw her whimper back at her as the hot water hit her shoulders, and she wallowed in it for several minutes. The back-to-back flights on little sleep had worn her out, and listening to Joe gripe about it hadn’t helped.

  She was never traveling with him again. Not if she could help it.

  Clean and feeling marginally more alert, she pulled on the dress she’d taken from her bag, pinned her hair into a messy bun, and went back to her suitcase to dig out a pair of sandals.

  He was stretched out on the bed, his shoes off, dark stubble covering his jaw. She softened. He looked as exhausted as she felt. She jostled his foot. “Hey. No falling asleep on me. I’ll be back in a little bit, and we’ll go find something to eat. Unless you decide you’d rather drag yourself back to Boston and hole up in your apartment for a week.”

  He grunted and pushed himself into a sitting position. “Are you sure you should be walking around by yourself? Let me come with you. It’s a strange city, Drea, and it’s going on nine at night.”

  She smiled. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got my phone, and I’ll stick to the busy streets with lots of streetlights. I need a little time to myself, okay?”

  He stared, uncertainty giving way to exhaustion as he nodded his head. “Sure. I’m still going down to the front desk.”

  Oh, for the love of—

  “Fine.” Scooping up her purse, she stalked out the door.

  The fierce heat felt amazing, at first. Until it sapped the last of her strength. Drea shuffled through the lobby toward the elevators, slumping against the wall of the car as soon as she stepped on. She counted backward to figure out how long she’d been up. Almost twenty-four hours. The flight from Boston to Miami had only been a few hours, but the best they could manage and still make the connection to Buenos Aires meant they’d had to leave obscenely early. There’d been some issues with security in Miami, and they’d had to run all the way to the gate. The flight to Buenos Aires was turbulent for most of it, and neither of them had eaten much as a result. Or slept. Traffic from the airport into the city was miserable. Then there was the mix-up with the reservation. This day needed to end soon.

  She’d collect Joe, they’d go out, grab something to eat, and come back and pass out.

  He was stepping out of the bathroom, clad in a pair of boxer shorts and rubbing a towel over his hair when she opened the
door to their room. She couldn’t stop the shriek of surprise. “Crap. Sorry!”

  He dropped the towel. “It’s fine. Didn’t know when you’d be back.” The crack coming from his jaw as he yawned made her wince. “Ouch. Fuck.” He rubbed a hand over it. “You hungry?”

  “Yeah.”

  She waited while he pulled on a pair of shorts and a shirt, trying not to stare at the intriguing ropes of muscle flexing and stretching in his back. Her cheeks heated as she realized what she’d been doing, and she dropped her gaze to the floor as he turned around, shoving his wallet into his back pocket.

  “You okay?”

  “What?” She lifted her head. “Oh. Um. I’m fine. Tired. Ready?”

  He watched her a moment, then shook his head. “Tired’s not the word I’d use.”

  Out on the street, her feet grew heavier with each step. There was no way she’d be able to make it through an actual meal without her face ending up in it. Maybe they should skip the food and go back to the hotel. She was about to suggest it when she spotted the food cart. Well, she’d planned on eating street food at least once on this trip. Now was as good a time as any.

  She grabbed his hand and made a beeline for the cart. Tamales. She’d heard about these. Not trusting her broken Spanish, she held up four fingers, then jabbed her elbow into his stomach.

  “Ow. You could ask, you know.” He pulled his wallet out and removed a bill, and the vendor handed over the tamales.

  She burned her tongue on the first bite. Too hungry to care, she gobbled down her first tamale as they walked slowly back to the hotel. The second one disappeared by the time they arrived back at their room.

  The sight of the bed, cover rumpled from where Joe had been lying on it, drew a low moan from her. “Teeth. I need to brush my teeth.” She rooted around in her bag until she found the tank she’d brought to sleep in and stumbled for the bathroom.

  She brushed her teeth and exchanged her dress for the tank, then stared at her hair in the mirror. It was so long, she normally braided it before bed. Otherwise it got trapped and yanked as she moved in her sleep.

  Screw it. She was tired enough she’d be out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  Her hand froze on the doorknob. She wasn’t wearing any pants. She never wore sleep pants or shorts to bed. It made her legs feel trapped. Better to sleep unencumbered. But that was before she’d been informed she’d be sharing a bed.

  This was ridiculous. She was an adult, and she’d act like one. They were friends, and there’d never been any hint of flirtation between them. She liked her men tall and muscled, and while he was tall, he was far too slim for her taste. Likewise, he always dated tall, willowy women. No curves to be had. Which she had. In spades.

  Yeah, they’d be fine.

  She stepped out of the bathroom. He was sitting on the end of the bed, head down. He lifted it as she approached and dumped her suitcase on the floor. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

  He stared at her bare legs, and she forgot her fatigue for a moment as her face flushed. “What?”

  “Don’t you have some pants or something?”

  She groaned. “No, I don’t. This is what I brought to sleep in. We’ll be fine. The bed’s huge. I doubt you’ll even notice I’m there. Now, please, can I go to bed? I’m about to fall over here.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. He stood and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. About earlier. International travel always puts me in a bad mood.” He reached out and pulled her into his arms, and she rested her head on his chest as he held her.

  She resisted the urge to rub her cheek on the soft cotton of his shirt. Times like this she missed Zach. The breakup had been amicable and a long time coming, and she rarely missed him. Except when it came to things like this. Zach had loved seeing new places, and that had been the reason they’d stayed together long after the love was gone. “You need some sleep.”

  “Yeah.” His voice brought on a frisson of pleasure as it rumbled through her. She pushed it away. Just because she was having a lonely moment didn’t mean she needed to indulge in something that would make things awkward between them. His friendship meant far more to her than pursuing some vague urge.

  He eased back, frowning as his hand caught the bottom of her hair. “I didn’t realize it was this long.” Tugging gently on the ends, he wound some of the dark brown strands around his fingers as he studied it. “Looks good.”

  Then he released her and walked into the bathroom, the door shutting behind him witha decisive click.

  Weird. Totally, completely weird. Almost as weird as the jolt she’d gotten earlier when she’d seen the muscles of his naked back. The naked back that, now that she thought about it, made her wonder what the rest of him looked like naked.

  She was more tired than she thought. Imagining things. God.

  The sheets were delightfully cool and soft as she slid between them, the pillow giving way under her head. Sleep rushed toward her, and she was dimly aware of the bathroom door opening. He settled into the other side of the bed, and she surrendered to the welcoming black.

  Chapter Two

  Skin.

  Smooth, warm skin.

  His hand drifted over it, running into fabric, worming under it, connecting with more skin, warmer skin. He shifted closer, burying his face in silky hair, the fragrant strands tickling his nose.

  God, this was a great dream. He didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to feel more of this mystery woman. His hand moved around, cupping a breast. Heat. A soft moan. His mouth searched out skin, licking, nibbling, bringing forth another moan. He wanted to find the mouth making that sexy noise.

  His lips found a jaw, then a chin, and finally, a mouth. A full, lush mouth, the lips a tantalizing combination of firm and soft. His hand kneaded flesh gently as his lips parted and his tongue stroked over the seam of his dream girl’s mouth, begging for entry.

  She gave it to him, and it was his turn to groan. Hot. So damn hot. The hand covering her breast moved down, stroking over a sweet, rounded ass, palming it and hitching her closer.

  The kiss grew hotter, sinful, more frantic. Had he thought this was a great dream? It was a fantastic dream. A fucking fantastic dream. He had no doubt that in a minute, he was going to have incredible dream sex. Only there was too much clothing.

  His eyes slit open as he tore his mouth away, working over the delicate skin of her throat, nipping into her earlobe. The sharp sting of his bite had her arching into him, and he held her there, ground against her, growling when she jerked. He fisted his hand in the cotton of her top and he tried to pull it up.

  She drew it off, his mystery woman, and she was back in his arms. He pushed her onto her back, settling between her legs. Two more barriers. His and hers.

  She whimpered.

  The sound went straight to his dick, and he dropped his head down to the crook of her neck. Lust was chasing away the haze of sleep, and he curled his fingers around the sides of her panties. He’d rip them away if he had to.

  It was far too warm to be a dream. There was too much skin. It was too real.

  He opened his eyes and found dark blue eyes staring back at him in shock, the pretense of sleep gone.

  “Joe?”

  Fuck.

  “Drea?”

  He’d been about to drive himself into Drea. His friend. Who happened to be female, but still. Friend. Not a woman he wanted to screw senseless. Except he did. In that moment, with her wrapped around him, the memory of her mouth on his, he wanted to forget who they were and fuck like monkeys.

  He rolled off her and threw an arm over his eyes. Was he supposed to apologize? Go back and beg for more? Wait for her to say something?

  Waiting seemed like an outstanding idea. He’d do that.

  She shifted and slid out of bed, and a minute later he heard the shower turn on. Good. He’d have a moment to push those inappropriate images from his mind. And replace them with pictures of her naked body, water streaming over her breasts, sliding
over the curve of her waist, down her ass. Pooling at her feet.

  He groaned again. Not. Helping. He lifted the blankets and scowled at his groin. Little head was making things worse. Which made no sense at all, considering he’d never registered an attraction to her before. He’d always had a strict rule about not dating anyone he worked with, so from the moment he’d met her five years ago, she’d immediately fallen into the coworker category.

  Sure, that had changed over time, as the two of them continued to work, and work well, together. Drinks. Lunches. Double dates. He’d liked Zach. Drea had been giddy about him. And he was pretty sure she’d gotten along with Rachel, his ex. And then Tess, the woman he’d dated after Rachel.

  Thinking about Tess did the job, and his erection deflated. He’d screwed up there. He’d known it at the time, and he’d done it anyway. It wasn’t because he didn’t love her. He had. But the kisses and almost constant touches, a hand at the back of her neck, his arm around her waist, weren’t enough for her. She wanted the words, but talking wasn’t his strong suit.

  Grumbling, he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. It was the bed and the travel stress. A one-off. They’d be fine. Their friendship was solid, and this was a bump in the road.

  While he waited for her to finish in the bathroom, he wandered over to the doors leading to the balcony. The day before, he’d been too tired and angry to take much notice of their room. He pulled the drapes, squinting as sunlight blasted him. Then he pushed open the doors.

  Noise. The sounds of a city getting on with the business of being a city. And it smelled like a city. Worse than New York, which was the smelliest place he’d ever been. Diesel fumes permeated the air. It was hot. The heat soaked into his skin. That was okay. They’d left behind a foot of snow.

  He’d let her take the lead on exploring the city. She’d been so excited about the trip, surfing the web, flipping through guidebooks. Tango shows, neighborhoods, museums, restaurants, and cafés had made it onto the list she’d waved at him. He grinned. Super tourist. The title fit her to a T.