The Argentinian's Baby Of Scandal

by Sharon Kendrick

  Pulling his mouth away from hers, he saw nothing but dazed compliance in her eyes and was unprepared for the ecstatic thundering of his heart in response. When was the last time he’d felt this...excited about having sex with a woman? Was it because this was the last thing he’d ever imagined happening, or because she was so different from anyone he’d ever been intimate with?

  He thought about leading her to his bedroom in a way he’d done with other women countless times over the years, when instead he did something which had never happened before. Picking her up, he planted his foot in the centre of the door and kicked it wide open.

  ‘Lucas!’ breathed Tara, her voice sounding almost shocked as he carried her towards his bed, which was softly illuminated by the glow of a nearby lamp.

  ‘What’s the matter, Tara?’ he growled. ‘Don’t you like the masterful approach?’

  She shook her head so that her curls shimmered down her back like a halo of fire and he could see her licking her lips before her next words came out with a rush of bravado. ‘I don’t like you kicking the paintwork when I’m the one who has to clean it!’

  He laughed—which was extraordinary because he didn’t usually associate humour with sex—but his mirth was quickly forgotten as he lowered her to her feet. Pulling open the sash of her dressing gown, he narrowed his eyes on discovering she wasn’t naked underneath. Far from it. A baggy T-shirt of indeterminate colour hung to the middle of her lithe thighs. ‘You certainly aren’t dressed for seduction,’ he observed wryly as he peeled it over her head.

  ‘I’m right...right out of silk negligees,’ she breathed as he smoothed his hands down over her ruffled curls.

  Once again, he could hear a trace of vulnerability behind her flippant response and so he kissed her some more while he dealt with his zip, which was straining almost painfully over his hardness. He waited for her to offer to help him, but she didn’t—and maybe that was a good thing. He wasn’t sure he trusted anyone to touch him when he was this close to coming.

  Kicking off his jeans, he urgently peeled back the duvet, sinking her down onto the mattress and wrapping his arms tightly around her so that they were skin-on-skin. He could hear her gasp as his erection sprang against her belly and for one last time he heard a whisper of warning in the recesses of his mind. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? But her long legs were tangling with his with unashamed excitement and when he slid his hand between her thighs, she was so wet and warm and slippery. He wasn’t sure at all, he realised, but the only power on earth which could stop him now was Tara herself and, judging by the way she was writhing beneath him, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, his voice dipping with approval as he whispered his fingertip over the engorged little bud which was slick with desire.

  ‘Oh,’ echoed Tara as a shimmer of incredible sensation swept over her. Was this what had been spoken about with such venom when she’d been growing up? The most wicked thing in the world which could bring with it terrible consequences?

  He lowered his lips to hers again and the sweetness of his kiss made her heart want to burst from her chest. How was it possible to feel this good? She closed her eyes in ecstasy as he began to kiss her breasts, his tongue flicking against one nipple so that it peaked into his mouth as if it had been made for just that purpose. She quivered as his fingertips skated over her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he explored her breasts and belly and the jutting bones of her hips. Suddenly she wanted to touch him back in the same intimate way but she was shy and scared—wondering if her inexperience would put him off and bring this all to an abrupt end.

  She thought: Am I going to be passive about this, or am I going to be a participant? For the first time in her life, couldn’t she just go with what she wanted to do rather than thinking about what was the right thing to do? Fired by a fierce tide of hunger, she whispered her hand down his spine and then drifted her fingertips to the flat planes of his stomach. Did he sense she was going to move her hand further down to explore his hardness for the first time? Was that why he gave a low laugh of expectation?

  In the soft light she could see the pale pole of his hardness contrasted vividly against the burnished hue of his olive skin and Tara wondered why she wasn’t feeling the fear she had expected on seeing an aroused man for the first time in her life. Because this felt perfectly natural, that was why. This was what was supposed to happen between a man and a woman.

  Tentatively, and with the lightness of touch which made her such a good pastry-maker, she started to stroke him—but he endured the exploratory skate of her fingers for no more than a minute before shaking his head.

  ‘If you carry on doing that, this will not end well,’ he growled softly, reaching out for a foil packet on the locker and tearing it open with impatient fingers. Then he lifted her up to position her over him, so she was intimately straddling him, his tip nudging against her new-found wetness.

  Tara gasped as he splayed his hands over her breasts, his thumbs playing with her thrusting nipples, which instantly made her want to squirm with pleasure—although she wasn’t exactly in the ideal position to do any squirming.

  ‘Ride me, Tara,’ he urged huskily. ‘Ride me.’

  She didn’t get a chance to tell him she didn’t really know what he was talking about because, suddenly, he was pulling her down onto him so that his erection was pushing deep inside her, as if he was done with talking and couldn’t wait a second longer. Pushing up right into her so that he filled her completely, and the warm rush of unexpected pleasure was slightly offset by the unexpected shock of what was happening to her body. She could feel her muscles tense and the briefest split of pain. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she found Lucas staring up at her with an expression of disbelief on his rugged features and something else.

  Was it regret?

  Or was it anger?

  ‘You’re a virgin?’ he bit out.

  Breathlessly, she nodded.

  He said something she didn’t understand—she thought it might be in Italian, though what did she know?—and it sounded incredulous. He put his hands on either side of her hips and for a moment she thought he was going to remove her from his body and tell her to get out. But he didn’t. With a look of intense concentration on his face, he flipped her over onto her back while he was still inside her, displaying a skill which spoke volumes about his experience. And once she was on her back he smoothed away the wild disarray of curls from her face and stared down at her.

  ‘I think I’d better be the one in charge from now on, don’t you?’ he said thickly.

  She nodded, terrified of saying the wrong thing. Terrified he was going to stop. Because she couldn’t bear that—not when those amazing feelings were building up inside her again and he was bending his head to kiss her more deeply than before. And she was floating now. Floating off into a sweet and strange new world where nothing existed except the sensation of Lucas Conway thrusting deep inside her, his mouth capturing hers in kiss after kiss. He moved slowly at first and then faster—as if her body was sending out an unspoken command which he correctly interpreted and acted upon.

  She didn’t think it would happen. Not the first time. She might have been innocent but she’d read all the magazine articles, like everyone else. And when it did, her orgasm was nothing like she’d expected. Because how could she ever have anticipated that something could feel this good? As if the sweet spasms which were racking her body had transformed her, so that for a moment she felt as if she’d redefined what it meant to be human.

  Her fingers dug into the damp skin at his back and she kissed his neck over and over again as his own movements changed. His thrusts became more urgent and she heard his shuddered groan just before he collapsed on top of her. She wrapped her arms around him and in that moment she felt as if she’d tumbled into paradise and never wanted to leave. But nea
rly six years of a boss-employee relationship couldn’t be dissolved in a couple of minutes and the unmistakable balance of power between them hadn’t changed. So she lay there perfectly still and waited to hear what Lucas had to say.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TARA STARED OUT at the sodden morning to where the previous night’s storm had left the garden completely battered—as if some giant malevolent fist had pummelled the shrubs and flowers and left them leafless and sad. Gloomily surveying the damage to her previously well-tended shrubs, she found herself wondering if Lucas was in the air by now. If he was already beginning the process of forgetting her. Probably. No doubt it would be a speedy process in his case—less so in her own, she suspected—as she remembered the awkward words which had followed their passionate bout of sex.

  It had been the worst conversation of her life—though of course she’d been too young to remember her grandmother telling her that her mammy was dead, which she supposed she must have done. Worse even than the time she’d discovered the truth about her tarnished legacy—not from the person who should have told her, but from a sniggering trio of bullies on a freezing cold school playground in the rural wilds of Ballykenna.

  Nope. She sighed as she turned away from the window. It had been an all-time low to hear Lucas’s chilly statement as he’d coolly detached himself from her satiated and naked body and rolled to the other side of the bed, his voice as distant as the great space which had suddenly appeared between them. And, just as she must have done twenty times over—she found herself reliving that post-sex scenario, word by excruciating word.

  It had started with Lucas. A flat, hard assessment which had allowed no room for manoeuvre.

  ‘That should never have happened.’

  The trouble was that on one level she had agreed with him. It shouldn’t. While on another level...

  The flip side of the coin was that she’d been lying there, basking in emotion and reaction and a million other things besides. She’d felt fulfilled and relieved—yes, relieved—grateful that she was capable of feeling all the stuff other women felt and that her body was functioning just fine. For a few crazy, misplaced minutes before her boss had spoken, she’d actually been thinking that maybe she could go to New York with him, after all. That perhaps they could carry on doing...well, doing this. All right, it hadn’t been the most conventional beginning in the world—but the world wasn’t a conventional place these days and who was to say they couldn’t have some kind of relationship, even if it didn’t last? But Lucas hadn’t wanted to hear that. He hadn’t wanted to hear anything which smacked of eagerness. Presumably what he’d wanted was an unflappable response which echoed his own sentiments—one which reassured him that she wasn’t about to start reading something into a foolish act of passion which meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

  ‘No,’ she’d said slowly. ‘I suppose it shouldn’t.’

  ‘I can’t believe what we just did. I just can’t believe it.’ He had shaken his tousled dark head. ‘I should have—’

  ‘Honestly, Lucas, you don’t have to explain,’ she had butted in quickly, her voice sounding much sharper than usual and he’d turned his head to look at her in surprise, as if thinking she didn’t usually talk that way to him, which of course she didn’t. But then, they weren’t usually lying buck-naked in bed, were they? And because she couldn’t bear the thought of him voicing any more regrets and leaving her with nothing but uncomfortable memories of her first ever sexual experience—which happened to have completely blown her away—she had somehow forced a smile to her lips. She’d even managed a half-shrug, glad that her expression was mostly hidden by the thick fall of her curls. ‘Things got out of hand, that’s all. It’s not a big deal. Really.’

  ‘But you were a virgin, Tara.’

  ‘So what? Everybody is a virgin at some point in their life. I had to lose it some day.’

  ‘But not with...’

  His words had tailed off but she’d wondered what he had been about to say. Not with someone like me, probably. Someone who was completely out of her league. A commitment-phobe billionaire who normally dated the kind of women most men lusted after, not a skinny redheaded employee who’d hardly even been kissed before.

  ‘I can’t offer you anything, Tara,’ he had continued fiercely. ‘If that’s what you’re thinking.’

  How dared he presume to know what she was thinking? Hiding her hurt behind righteous indignation, Tara had decided to fight against the negative opinion he seemed to be forming of her.

  ‘You thought I was holding out for the man I’d one day marry?’ His look of surprise had told her she’d judged it correctly. ‘That I wanted to trade my innocence for a big white dress and a triumphant march down the aisle? You think the only reason we country girls come to the city is because we’re looking for a husband? Well, don’t worry, Lucas. I’m not—and if I was, I wouldn’t choose someone who clearly has no intention of ever settling down. Just like I’m not expecting anything to come of this. You’re right—it shouldn’t have happened and it certainly won’t happen again. For one thing, you’re off to New York, aren’t you? And I’m staying here in Dublin to find myself another job, which was always the plan.’

  Unlike that night over dinner, this time he hadn’t attempted to persuade her to stay and Tara felt angry at herself for having supposed he might. And hurt, too. That was the stupid thing. Her heart gave a funny little twist. He obviously couldn’t wait to put as many air miles between them as possible. She’d thought she couldn’t possibly feel any worse than she did, and then he had proceeded to rub salt into the wound by being unusually considerate.

  ‘Look, I don’t want you to feel you have to rush into anything.’ His words had been careful but he had seemed oblivious to the irony in them as he’d reached out to glance at his watch. ‘You must use the house here in Dalkey for as long as it takes you to find a job you really like. I’ll be away for at least six months and I don’t want you feeling as if you’ve got to grab the first thing which comes to hand just to get away from here.’

  He’d made her feel like a charity case but somehow Tara had hidden her humiliation behind a tight smile as she’d scrambled off the bed. ‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’

  ‘Tara?’

  ‘What?’ Her voice had been toneless as she’d turned around to answer his deep command. And wasn’t it crazy how the human spirit continued to hope no matter how much the odds were stacked against it? Hadn’t she secretly been praying he was going to tell her to get right back into bed when one look at the shuttered indifference on his face had told her that any such hope was pointless? ‘What is it?’ she’d said.

  He had shrugged, even though she’d been able to see his body shift uncomfortably on the bed and the rigid outline of his erection beneath the sheet had been abundantly clear. She had felt herself blush and had been grateful that the dim light of the room had hidden her embarrassment.

  ‘Nothing,’ he’d growled. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  So she had picked up her abandoned dressing gown and T-shirt and returned to her room without another glance at the naked man on the rumpled bed, and if she’d thought he might come running after her—well, he hadn’t done that either.

  In the morning she’d overslept—which she never did—and when she’d gone downstairs, she’d found a note lying on the table. A simple note. A note which was damning despite its air of considered politeness. Or maybe because of it.

  Tara,

  In view of what happened last night, I’ve brought my trip to New York forward by a few days. I’m sure you’ll understand the reasons why.

  Good luck with all that you do—you’ve been the best housekeeper I’ve ever had and any references I provide will reflect that opinion.

  I’ve paid you in advance for six months, so take your time choosing your next position.

  Lucas

  What position was
he talking about? she’d wondered with a mild tinge of hysteria as she’d crumpled the note in her palm before hurling it into the fire where it had combusted into a bouquet of bright flames. The one which involved her straddling him before taking him deep inside her body?

  But recriminations and casting blame were going to get her nowhere. She needed to think clearly and objectively and, most of all, she needed a new job. She went to a couple of employment agencies and scrolled through the newspapers for domestic vacancies, but nothing compared to working for Lucas. She even went on a couple of interviews but her heart wasn’t in it and despite her glowing references she was turned down for both jobs, which didn’t exactly do wonders for her self-esteem.

  She was longing to confide in Stella but something held her back. Was it because she thought her friend might be shocked by what she’d done—essentially enjoyed a night of casual sex with her employer? Stella couldn’t be more shocked than she was herself, Tara thought grimly as she polished the fine furniture in Lucas’s sitting room, trying to keep herself busy. And she discovered very quickly that it was easy to procrastinate. To act as if nothing had really changed, except that it had.

  Something had really changed.

  Her periods had always been as regular as clockwork and so she was concerned from the very first day of being late. But there again, it was weird how your mind did its best to protect you by concealing the truth and cloaking it in all kinds of possibilities. She told herself that there’d been so much upheaval lately it was no wonder she was a little out of sorts. She blamed the sudden dip in the temperature as autumn suddenly swept through the city. She managed to keep these various myths alive for a whole fortnight. It was only when she’d been unable to keep her breakfast down, or her lunch for that matter—and Stella had popped round unexpectedly to find her sitting white-faced in the kitchen—that the whole horrible truth came tumbling out, though it still needed a little prompting.