by Maggie Cox
The sultry woman pouted and picked off an imaginary piece of lint from her leopard-print dress. ‘People can change, Javier. You must know that. Look what you have had to do. You have had to leave your luxurious apartment in Buenos Aires and all your friends and come and take up residence in this cold, rainy country and be a father to Angelina as well! Plus you have had to marry some plain, frigid Englishwoman so that you can stay here! I do not know how you can bear it all, querido—I really don’t!’
‘Plain’ and ‘frigid’ were not words that a man could ever use to describe Sabrina, Javier thought, his blood quickening—even if she had withdrawn every bit of her previous warmth towards him in order to maintain the supposedly required distance between them. As Christina was talking he kept glancing at the clock on the mantel, wondering where she had gone after work and what was keeping her. Angelina had been looking forward to her coming home this evening but now the child was tucked up in bed, fast asleep, clearly unconvinced by her uncle’s explanation that Sabrina would be home soon, he was sure. She had probably just decided to work late, he’d told his niece. Now he was all knotted up inside, wondering where she was or—more importantly—who she was with. OK, so he wasn’t looking to make this marriage of theirs a permanent fixture and God knew he was not in love or anything like that—but he did have certain feelings for this woman who had answered his prayer in his hour of need. And it was his duty as her husband, real or not, to make sure that she was safe.
‘Querido?’
Snapping out of his reverie, Javier took a sip of his now slightly warm white wine then with a grimace put it aside on the small occasional table beside him. ‘I’m sorry, Christina. I have a lot on my mind at the moment. Forgive me.’
‘I was so sorry to hear about poor Michael. I only met him a few times but I always thought he was a nice man. It must have been a blow, sí?’
It took an almighty effort to force away the heavy black cloak that he sensed settling around his shoulders. Michael’s death had been a terrible blow—Christina had guessed right—and Javier missed the fact that he could no longer talk things over with his brother-in-law the way he used to. Instead, whenever his thoughts turned to Michael or Dorothea, there was such an ache inside him that it almost left him breathless. That was why he had vowed never to get too close to anyone he cared about again. Angelina, of course, being the exception.
‘I am living in his house.’ He shrugged, dark eyes absorbing the family photographs on the mantelpiece, the baby grand piano by the window that Michael had loved to play whenever he got the chance, the bookcases stacked with biographies and medical books—Michael’s favourite reading. ‘All around me are reminders of him and Dorothea. They were happy here. Now they are both gone. It is hard to be here, I will not deny it, but I have to be strong for Angelina. When the adoption papers come through I will be her father and we will both have a new life.’
‘And this woman…your temporary “wife”—she will go?’ Christina held her breath. She knew she wanted to be with her darling Carlo but she wouldn’t be a woman if she didn’t still have a certain attraction to the beautiful man who had wined and dined her in some of the most exciting capital cities in the world. And, looking at him now, his brow creased and his eyes full of sorrow, she had no doubt he was in need of some comfort. The kind of comfort only a woman could supply. Uncurling her long, slim legs from beneath her, Christina padded across the luxurious carpet in her stockinged feet and settled herself next to Javier on the arm of his chair.
‘Sí,’ he said, glancing up at her glossy crimson mouth, ‘she will go.’
‘Querido.’ Sliding her long, elegant fingers beneath his jaw, Christina bent her head and kissed his cheek. When she attempted to bestow a second kiss—this time on his lips—she felt him stiffen and pull away. Shock radiated through her like a slap.
‘I have missed you, Javier,’ she told him, her voice deliberately low. ‘Have you not missed me too? Just a little bit?’
He remembered walking into his apartment, hearing laughter from the bedroom, pulling the door wide and seeing Christina naked against the pillows while the ageing, paunchy figure of his neighbour, Carlo Andretti, lay beside her, smoking a cigarette. The memory made him sick to his stomach. He pushed to his feet to pace the room, glancing again at the clock, feeling impatient and angry because Sabrina hadn’t come home yet.
‘You are welcome to stay the night, Christina. There is a guest room already made up. But tomorrow you must go back to your hotel. Apart from taking Angelina to school, I have many things to attend to so I will not be able to keep you company.’ Not least of all, telling Sabrina and her staff that they would have to close the shop for at least three or four weeks while the extensive refurbishment was carried out. He knew Sabrina was hoping to avoid such a decision but plainly she could not carry on working with workmen replacing windows and ripping up floorboards all around her. The refurbishment was part of the modernisation programme to give the agency a whole new, much more professional look—a look that would hopefully bring in a lot more customers to boost business. If he hadn’t stepped in when he had, Javier had no doubt East-West Travel would be trading on goodwill alone and soon even that would dwindle to nothing.
‘All right. I understand. You are still mad at me for finding me with Carlo, no? But you were always working, Javier. Working or travelling. A woman gets lonely for a man when that happens.’ Moving across the room, her small, slim body in the tight fake leopard-skin dress an eye-catching contrast against the pale, muted colours of the room, she bent deliberately slowly to pick up her high-heeled strappy sandals, then, smiling seductively, moved up close to Javier.
‘Show me the way to your guest room, then. I am too tired to wait for a taxi to take me back to the hotel.’
Relieved that she was retiring for the night at least, even if she wasn’t taking his preferred option of returning to her hotel, Javier gladly took her down the thickly carpeted corridor and up a short flight of stairs to the guest room.
Careful not to wake anybody, Sabrina tiptoed down the darkened corridor to the kitchen and, flipping on the light, laid her parcels carefully on the table. Stripping off her damp raincoat and pulling the tortoiseshell clip from her hair, she also kicked off her shoes then crossed the tiled floor to put the kettle on to boil. After her shopping trip was over she hadn’t felt brave enough to return home to Javier and Angelina so instead she’d driven to her flat, opened some windows to let in fresh air, watered her plants and collected a few more belongings to bring back with her. When she’d done all that, she’d sat back in her armchair to rest for five minutes before starting for home and had promptly fallen asleep. When she’d woken an hour later, the wind was blowing an almighty draught through the opened windows and the room was freezing. Rousing herself, she’d closed them tight, given the flat one final check to make sure everything was in order, gathered her belongings and got back into her car.
Concentrating on pouring hot water from the kettle onto some coffee grounds in a cheerful pink mug, she almost scalded herself at the sound of Javier’s deep, rich voice at the door.
‘I will get a towel for your hair. You are wet.’ Disappearing momentarily, he returned to the kitchen just as Sabrina was taking a careful sip of her steaming coffee, her pulse accelerating at the sight of him dressed in dark jeans and a black polo-neck.
He handed her the large sky-blue towel and she put down her drink. ‘Thanks.’ Shivering slightly, either from her damp hair or the sheer tension of sharing the same air space as her husband, Sabrina briskly rubbed her hair, knowing she should really head for a hot shower and dry it properly, but too tired to even contemplate it.
‘You went shopping?’ He jerked his head towards the various carrier bags and parcels on the table, relieved to know where she’d been but still anxious to know why she had returned home so late.
‘It’s not something I indulge in very often,’ she replied a little defensively, hoping he didn’t think she’d bee
n spending some of the money he’d given her for the business. ‘Now and again a little retail therapy doesn’t hurt.’
His dark gaze lingering on the unconsciously sensual way the silk of her blouse stretched taut over her breasts as she stretched upwards to dry her hair, Javier manfully absorbed the hot sexual jolt that shot through his body and told himself not to forget that Sabrina’s new ground rules were now apparently in operation.
‘Implying that there is an emotional need not being met, sí?’
There was something terribly erotic about the way he pronounced the innocent Spanish word. Folding the towel over the back of a chair, she ran her fingers self-consciously through the tumbled weight of her honey-brown hair, her eyes curiously bright. ‘Still playing amateur psychologist, Javier?’
His laugh was low and husky. ‘Is that what you think I’m trying to do, Sabrina, figure you out?’
Turning back to the mug of coffee she’d left on the counter-top, she glanced vaguely back across her shoulder. ‘Do you want a drink? The kettle’s just boiled.’
He hated the knowledge that she was suddenly uneasy with him and wished he knew how to put things right, to make her realise he wasn’t going to pounce on her as soon as she let her guard down. A yawn catching him unawares, he stretched his arms high and shook his head. ‘No, thank you. I think I will go to bed now that you are home. We have a busy day ahead tomorrow.’
‘Thank you for waiting up, but you didn’t have to.’ Her hands tightened round the pretty pink mug and she wished her spine didn’t feel quite so tight every time she looked at him.
‘It is my pleasure.’ With an enigmatic look at her startled gaze, he smiled. ‘Goodnight, Sabrina. Sleep well.’
Angelina tipped out the smart bag with the new clothes Sabrina had bought her, rifled through them, then excitedly held up a bright red sweatshirt to her chest. ‘Thank you, Sabrina. They are lovely. I’ll try the jeans on tonight when I come home from school.’ With a shy grin, she moved round the table to give Sabrina a slight peck on the cheek.
Flushing with pleasure, Sabrina was almost unbearably moved by the little girl’s spontaneous delight. Her gift was such a small thing and she hadn’t expected such a warm reaction. Tucking her unbound hair behind her ear, she parted her lips in a relieved smile. Drinking her tea in her dressing gown, she reached out to squeeze Angelina’s hand. ‘I guessed your size but if they don’t fit I can take them back and change them. Maybe you’d like to come with me and choose something yourself?’
‘All right, then, but I’m sure they will fit. They look fine.’
‘And I’m sorry I wasn’t home last night in time to say goodnight.’ Sabrina’s brow creased guiltily as she silently wished she hadn’t let her uneasiness with Javier prevent her from seeing the child.
‘That’s OK. As long as you came home and you were all right.’ With a shy glance back she returned the clothes to the white bag with the famous black logo on it and, at a shout from Rosie to come and brush her teeth, left Sabrina in the kitchen to contemplate the day ahead alone. It touched her more than she could say that Angelina expressed pleasure in her coming home. When the time finally came for her to leave the little girl and her disturbing uncle, Sabrina knew it was going to be one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but surely Javier wouldn’t mind if she kept in touch—to see Angelina at least?
She was contemplating all of this and more when Javier entered the room. Already washed, shaved and dressed in an immaculate black suit, the tang of his aftershave wafting seductively round the kitchen, he was the epitome of a rich, successful young entrepreneur, and Sabrina self-consciously pulled the neckline of her terry robe closer together, feeling a peculiar vulnerability around him that she wished would go away.
‘Good morning. Can I get you something to drink—tea? Coffee?’ Starting to rise from the table, she was waved back down again with an engaging smile that made her suck in a deep breath to steady herself.
‘I am fine, thank you. As soon as you are ready we will get going. There is a lot to do today and I am anxious to make a start.’
Javier liked the sight of her clothed in the long white terry robe, her beautiful golden-brown hair rippling softly down her back and her face scrubbed clean of make-up. Right now she was a million miles away from her image as a smart, efficient businesswoman, which he sensed she was most comfortable with. By the wide, slightly unsure expression in her beautiful blue eyes, he knew she could not have been more ill-at-ease in being discovered in such a way.
‘I’ll go and get myself sorted out, then.’ Just as Sabrina got to her feet, a woman she’d never seen before in her life swept into the kitchen behind Javier, spun round and demanded he help her do up the zipper on her very inappropriate strapless dress. As Sabrina stared, open-mouthed, Javier obliged without a word—his movements calm and unhurried as if it was the most normal request in the world. Her fingers digging into the table-top, Sabrina’s knees started to shake. It was true she had told him he should get on with his own life, even see other women if he wanted to, but, God help her, she hadn’t thought he would actually act on it. The woman in the tight dress was raven-haired and beautiful, exquisitely made up with slightly almond-shaped black eyes that gave her an undeniably exotic look. In her comfortable terry robe, her face unwashed and her hair not yet brushed, Sabrina couldn’t help feeling like some scruffy bag lady who’d accidentally wandered in on the perfect couple from a glossy magazine. Had Javier slept with this woman last night? Had she been waiting in his bed when he’d bid Sabrina goodnight?
‘Sabrina, this is a friend from home. She’s working in London for a few days and dropped in to see us. Christina, meet my wife—Sabrina.’
The black-eyed beauty’s luscious red lips parted in a purely fake smile. ‘So you are the helpful Englishwoman who came to my darling Javier’s aid? I am very pleased to meet you…Sabrina.’
Sabrina’s head started to throb and suddenly she wanted to get out of the bright, warm kitchen, where previously she’d been relaxed, and escape to her room. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for work.’
She was out the door before Javier could waylay her and, hearing him call her name, Sabrina just headed straight for her room, barely taking a breath. Her lungs hurt by the time she pulled open the door and slammed it behind her, and she fell back against the wooden panelling with her heart pounding and an acute pain slashing through her ribs. Jealousy. She was jealous, angry and betrayed. How could he sleep with another woman under the same roof as her when the one thing she’d been so sure of was that he was one of the most honourable men she’d ever met?
‘Sabrina! Let me in…please!’
He was banging on the door, rattling the brass door handle. Swallowing down the pain in her throat, she took a deep gulp of air before replying, ‘Go away, Javier. Just let me get ready for work. Please!’
‘It is not how it looks, Sabrina. Christina is an old friend. Nothing happened between us last night, nothing. She came to visit and it got late. She was too tired to go back to the hotel so I let her stay here.’
‘Old friend, huh? How old? Twenty-four, twenty-five?’ She couldn’t believe how pathetic she sounded. Get a grip, Sabrina, for goodness’ sake!
‘Are you going to let me in?’
‘No! I’ll see you at the office. Don’t wait for me; I’ll make my own way there.’
‘Dios!’ With a final thump on the door, she heard him stride back down the hall.
She’d frozen him out all morning and as soon as Jill and Robbie had gone to lunch and the shop was empty of customers, Javier followed Sabrina into the little back room, leaning against the doorjamb as he watched her make coffee and arrange some sandwiches on a plate.
‘You will have to stop being mad at me very soon. It is not fair on Jill and Robbie to have to work in such an atmosphere.’
Pouring milk into her drink, Sabrina stirred it vigorously with the little silver-plated spoon. ‘I am not mad at you,’ she said evenly
. ‘It’s entirely up to you who you sleep with. I just expected you to have a little more class than to do it while I was sleeping under the same roof.’
Javier bit back some curse words in Spanish that sprang to his lips. ‘And I thought you had more class than to take out your anger on the people who work for you. I thought you took pride in your professionalism?’
That cut her to the quick, even more so because it was true. That didn’t, however, prevent Sabrina from venting her spleen on the man who dominated the doorway. His handsome face deceptively calm, she could none the less see the spit of fire in those devastatingly dark eyes and she resented it. Resented it mightily when she was the one who had so clearly been wronged.
‘How dare you?’ Before she knew she even intended it, she’d walked right up to him and poked her finger in his chest. ‘How dare you talk to me about professionalism when you come home and act like some two-penny Lothario? I was the one who was trying to behave with some kind of dignity by striving to keep our relationship purely on a business level only! Then because I tell you I’m not going to make a habit of sleeping with you, you have to go and pay me back by bringing another woman into the house!’
‘Madre del Dios!’ Fury slamming into his gut, Javier stared down into her accusing blue eyes as emotion finally got the better of him. He’d done everything in his power as far as he could see to make her see sense, to explain about Christina, why she was in the house, that she was only in London for a few days, that she was flying back to Argentina to be with her lover, Carlo. But none of it had apparently convinced his wife that he would never stoop to such a low act as to sleep with another woman just because Sabrina had withdrawn her favours. And why was she getting so angry anyway when it had been her own suggestion that they keep their relationship strictly professional? Unless she was jealous. The thought sideswiped him, made his heart beat a little faster and sent heat heading right where he didn’t want it to go.
