Blair swung her legs over the bed and put her feet on the floor, but before she could stand Draco was there at her side.
“Can I help you? Do you need the bathroom?”
She shook her head; she didn’t need his solicitous behavior. It wasn’t as if he truly cared about her, anyway.
“No,” she said, her voice rougher than usual, “I need to get to the hospital to see my father. He’ll be worried.”
Draco gently pushed her back down onto the bed.
“Your father has come through his surgery with flying colors, you don’t need to worry. And the surgeon explained to him why you couldn’t be there. He’s sleeping now, and I have one of my people there to let us know the minute he wakes. If you’re up to it, I’ll take you to see him myself.”
Blair allowed him to lift her legs and tuck them back under the covers. Then, to her surprise, he sat down on the bed next to her.
“We can rebuild, you know,” he said softly.
“Rebuild? The restaurant?”
An image flashed in her mind of the carnage the fire had wrought. It would take a hell of a lot to rebuild. A lot of money and time, neither of which she had at her disposal. But then again, she didn’t own the building, did she? Draco did.
She remembered what she’d said to him as he’d arrived at the scene and had the grace to blush. She’d been overwrought. Why on earth would he do something as destructive as set fire to his own building? She wanted to apologize, but the words stuck in her throat.
“Yes, the restaurant. There are many photos of the exterior. We could rebuild, using recycled timbers wherever possible, and remain true to the original building. It will be better than before. We can ensure that it has all the charm of the old restaurant, but with all the convenience and functionality of a new one. What do you say?”
“Is that what you want to do?” she asked tentatively.
“How can it not be what I want, Blair, when it is so important to you?”
He took both her hands in his and lifted them to his mouth, the softness of his kisses to her knuckles making her feel cherished. The sensation was foreign to her. All her life she’d had to be responsible. To look out for herself. But this, this felt surprisingly like being looked after. Warmth bloomed deep inside her.
“Blair, I cannot explain to you how I felt when I arrived back in Auckland and heard of the fire. They said there were casualties, but I had no way of knowing if it was you they were talking about. That journey from the airport was the longest of my life. And then, when I got to the restaurant, I couldn’t see you anywhere. To be honest, it was a relief to see you come at me with all your accusations.”
“I’m sorry. I was upset, crazy. I should never have said those things to you.”
Of course he’d been relieved to see her. After losing Marcella and their unborn babe, he would have been frantic about this child. Her heart ached with wanting even a fraction of that care to have been about her—just for herself.
“Don’t apologize,” Draco said, letting go of her hands and getting up to pace the room. “It is I who should apologize. I treated you as if I were some feudal overlord and you nothing more than one of my serfs. I saw you. I wanted you. It was that simple. And when I discovered you were pregnant with my baby, Blair, I was prepared to do anything and everything to keep you.”
A glimmer of hope kindled to life in Blair’s shadowed soul. Could he have feelings for her that went beyond the physical attraction that drew them together, that even now simmered beneath the surface?
“I was unfair to you when you asked about Marcella. To be honest, it pained me to talk about her. Not for the reasons I imagine you’re thinking. Yes, I loved her. Who could not? But was I in love with her? Did my sun rise and set with her? Did I spend every waking moment of every day after I met her looking forward to when we could be together again?” He shook his head disparagingly, his face drawn into sharp lines of self-contempt.
“No, I did not. And she deserved that. She deserved someone who would love her every second of every day. But instead, she loved me. And because she loved me she destroyed her life to give me what she believed would tie me to her in a way she never could. She allowed herself to become pregnant, knowing how dangerous that was, to make me love her more.
“I have lived with the guilt of knowing that for too long, Blair. I didn’t believe I deserved to love or to be loved. Not after being so cavalier with Marcella’s feelings, with her love for me.
“But then I met you, and instantly you brought light into my life. Suddenly I found reasons to work from home. You remember, si? When you first arrived at the palazzo with your tour, I was on my way out the building, but I saw you get off the tour bus and it was as if I was hit by lightning. I wanted you in that instant, and I still want you—even more than I did back then.”
“How could I forget?” Blair answered in a whisper.
Listening to Draco talk about their first meeting was like reliving the exquisite sensation of being instantly desired all over again.
“I thought that I was being given another chance,” Draco said, his voice so low she could barely hear him. “But you were only supposed to be with us that day. When you agreed to stay, I couldn’t believe my luck. My world began to spin on a new axis, up until you left again. You were so focused on your work, on Carson’s, that I couldn’t begin to see how I could tempt you into staying with me forever. Instead, all I could see again was what my life could be like. It was as if fate was playing a cruel joke on me by giving me what I so justly deserved. I’d taken Marcella’s love for me for granted and poured myself into my work, and suddenly, even though I didn’t realize yet that what I felt for you was love, you did exactly the same to me.”
Blair pressed her hand to her heart. If for one moment she’d known the depth of his feelings, could she believe she might have acted any differently? She had probably been so damaged by her father’s slant on love and his own obsession with his work, not to mention her own painfully failed relationship with Rhys, that she would not have been open to a permanent overture from Draco. Not then.
“Draco, I think you’re being too hard on yourself. How could Marcella not have loved you? You’re strong, successful and so handsome it makes me ache deep inside whenever I see you. And your heart, your passion for all that you love, is like a drug that makes those around you want to be part of that love—part of you.
“You terrified me and drew me like a magnet at the same time. But because of you, I’ve learned an awful lot about myself that I wasn’t prepared to see before. And I’ve learned to identify exactly what my greatest hopes and dreams are—”
“Carson’s,” Draco interrupted her sitting back down on the bed beside her. “I will rebuild it for you. I promise you Blair. If that’s what it takes, I will do it for you.”
Blair reached out and pressed her fingers to his lips. “No. That’s not what I want. Sure, I thought Carson’s was my be-all and end-all. What else did I have to dream and strive for in my life? No, I’ve learned that Carson’s was my father’s dream and his alone. I absorbed his hopes and dreams as my own when I had nothing else, exactly as he did when my mother left him. It was easier to pour all those feelings into work than into setting himself up for failure again with other relationships, and believe me—he failed often.
“I think seeing that example in my life showed me that you can have control of something in your life. What you do, if not what you feel. By default, his dreams became my own. But you know, deep down inside, I always wanted what he never had—a partner to stand by me, through anything and everything. Someone to love me and be loved by me in return. But it was so much easier not to take the risk. Loving hurts. It leaves you open and vulnerable and requires the utmost trust to commit to.”
She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.
“I don’t want to be like my father and drive myself so hard for something that it eventually destroys my life, and I don’t care if you don’t rebu
ild Carson’s. It doesn’t matter to me, not anymore.”
“What does matter to you?” Draco asked, as he tilted her chin so she looked him straight in the eye.
“You. You and our baby and the life we can have together, if you’ll have me. Draco, I love you. I’ve fought it tooth and nail, but I can’t deny it any longer.”
“Cara mia, never doubt it. I love you more than I ever believed a man could love a woman. I don’t ever want to lose you. You and only you are the love of my life—my reason for being—and, if you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Growing old with you. Loving you.”
Blair wrapped her arms around Draco’s neck and drew him closer to her. “Then start now,” she said softly against his lips. “Show me.”
Draco pushed aside the covers of the bed and gently coaxed her against the pillows. His fingers skimmed her arms, her legs, before gently lifting the hem of the T-shirt up and over, until she was exposed before him—naked, but for the cloak of love that swathed around them both.
Her body thrummed with desire, but this time it felt different, as if they were finally in perfect tune with one another. And when he removed his clothing and settled his body over hers she knew what made that difference. It was the absolute security of knowing she was safe with him, that she had offered him her heart and that she knew at a level that went soul-deep, that he would cherish and protect that gift for all of his days.
And as their bodies slowly began to move in unison, Blair knew that she would do the same for him.
Forever.
In the Argentine’s Bed
By Jennifer Lewis
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
One
How do you make a complete stranger hand over his DNA?
Susannah Clarke’s rental car was almost totally out of gas. She’d known the Tierra de Oro estancia was well outside Mendoza, Argentina, and had planned accordingly. But the car and its fuel tank were tiny, and everything else here was on a much grander scale than she’d imagined.
Including her own trepidation.
To her right, the sun glittered amongst the high, snow-dusted peaks of the Andes. Around her lay the fertile plain that supported some of the finest vineyards in the world.
As she turned off the highway, the needle on the fuel meter hovered below zero. Come on, just a little farther. She didn’t want to run out of gas and have to walk the rest of the way to the house with her news. “Hey, I think you’re my boss’s illegitimate son—got a gallon of gas to spare?”
She swallowed hard as a building came into view.
Deep breath.
She eased off the accelerator, anxious to stretch the last few drops of gas as far as they’d go. Rows of cypress trees now lined the drive, shading it from the bright sun. An elegant painted sign pointed to the right, where she could see a large brick structure against the backdrop of mountains. The Tierra de Oro Bodega, or winery.
She pressed on toward the house. For once she wasn’t coming to talk to the chief viticulturist about which kinds of grapes thrived in the local soils or how many cases Hardcastle Enterprises wanted for its flagship restaurant.
The avenue of cypress widened into a lush garden, surrounding a lovely old house with a red-tiled roof and wide, arched windows.
This is it.
She pulled the stick-shift car to a jerky stop in front of the paneled wood doorway. She opened the car door and stepped out, her heart thudding.
Then she heard the barking. Loud, guttural and getting closer with every second. Two huge white dogs bounded around the side of the house and careened toward her across the gravel.
Holy—
Susannah staggered back and struggled with the car door handle, her brain crowded with visions of being eaten alive on Amado Alvarez’s doorstep.
It wouldn’t open.
The worn door handle had apparently done enough work today.
“Help!” she finally cried, in Spanish, as the first giant animal leaped toward her, jaws wide.
It jumped on her, knocking her against the car as the other dog barked and growled from a few feet away. Pain shot through her elbow when it collided with the half-open window. “Help!”
The front door flew open and she heard a gruff male command. The dogs immediately backed away and sat, panting innocently. Susannah struggled to catch her breath, still flattened against the side of her tiny rental car.
A tall man came down the steps in a loping stride. “I apologize for my dogs’ overenthusiastic greeting.”
He spoke in Spanish. And why wouldn’t he? He had no idea who she was.
His dark brown hair dipped seductively to almond-shaped eyes. The soft drape of his khakis and cream-colored shirt revealed broad shoulders, slim hips and long, powerful legs.
He was handsome.
And about thirty. The age of Tarrant Hardcastle’s missing son.
Her heart, already pumping hard from the near-death encounter, beat faster.
She shoved out her hand. “At least you don’t have to worry about burglars.”
He smiled. A slightly lopsided grin. White teeth against suntanned skin. Susannah found her heart fluttering for reasons that had nothing to do with fear as he grasped her palm in a warm handshake.
Did she imagine it, or did he give her hand a suggestive squeeze? Mischief shimmered in those wicked brown eyes.
Susannah was good at reading people and she could tell this man was used to getting his way.
His features were aristocratic, elegant. His long, slightly aquiline nose tapering to tear-shaped nostrils. Everything about him telegraphed ease and comfort in his surroundings.
He snapped his fingers and the two giant hounds scampered to his feet and crouched there, tongues hanging, as they gazed adoringly up at him. “Apologize to the lady.” He raised his hand in a gesture, and the dogs immediately turned. Then he snapped his fingers and they sprawled at her feet.
“I’m impressed.”
“Cástor and Pólux are usually well-behaved. I don’t know why they got so worked up.” He paused, and let his arrogant gaze drift over the front of her blue jacket to the loose flowered cotton of her skirt. “Then again, maybe I do.” His eyes glittered with suggestion. “How may I help you?”
“Are you Amado Alvarez?”
“At your service.” He lowered his head in a mock bow. “Your name?”
“Susannah Clarke.” Susannah took a deep breath. “I…I have a private matter to discuss with you.”
His elegant brow crinkled slightly. “How intriguing. Do come in.” He indicated the wide stone steps in front of the open door.
He stood to one side as she climbed past him, her elbow still smarting from where his dog had smashed her against the car.
Of course, the news she brought might leave Amado Alvarez with far more than a bruised elbow.
He ushered her into a large living room with comfortable sofas arranged around a grand fireplace. The patter of massive dog feet followed them over the tiled floors.
“A private matter, you say?” He indicated for her to sit on one of the leather sofas. He sat next to her, but with enough distance to be polite. The dogs sprawled on a patterned rug in front of the unlit fireplace.
“Yes.” She knitted her fingers together. “Have you ever heard of Tarrant Hardcastle?”
Blood pounded in Susannah’s brain as he contemplated the question.
He shrugged. “No, should I have?”
“Well—” She twisted her fingers. If she blew this she could lose her job. “I’m not really sure how to say this, but he believes he’s your father and he’d like very much to meet with you.”
Am
ado’s eyes narrowed and his mouth widened into that crooked smile. “Is this some kind of joke? Who put you up to this? Tomás?”
She inhaled. “I’m afraid it’s not a joke. Tarrant believes he had an affair with your mother in Manhattan, back in the late 1970s, and that you are the result of that union.”
Amado’s face creased with amusement. “Manhattan? In New York?”
“Yes. She was there studying art. At least, that’s how Tarrant remembers it.”
Amado looked at her as if she’d just sprouted a third eye. “My mother…was studying art in New York City?” He let out a guffaw.
He turned his head. “Mamá!” His voice rang across the room. Susannah cringed as he called for his mother. A woman probably now in her fifties and living a respectable life, about to be confronted with a single indiscretion from many years ago that could upturn all of their lives.
She shrank into the sofa.
“What is it, sweetheart?” called a soft voice. Susannah rose to her feet as his mother entered the room. A short, rotund woman with fluffy gray hair, thick-framed glasses and navy orthopedic shoes.
Susannah blinked. Mrs. Alvarez was a stark contrast to Tarrant’s ex-beauty-queen, third wife.
Amado rose and kissed her. “Mamá, you’re going to love this. First, let me introduce you. Susannah Clarke, this is my mother, Clara Alvarez.”
“Delighted to meet you.” Clara shook Susannah’s hand gently. Her skin was soft, like her voice. Her pale blue eyes sparkled with warmth. “Have you traveled far?”
Susannah swallowed hard. “From New York.”
“Mamá, have you ever been to New York?”
Susannah could swear the older woman—and she looked to be close to seventy—suddenly changed. Her bearing stiffened, and her expression hardened. “Never.”
“Susannah seems to think you were studying art there in the 1970s.”
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