by Lucy Monroe
CHAPTER THREE
HE HAD to be joking! ‘But, Alejandro—’
‘Don’t you remember that time you surprised me? The time you shocked me with your brazenness?’
Never had she been happier to be adorned with the very best camera finish make-up as heat flooded her face. How could she have forgotten that night? Alejandro had been suddenly called away on business for two nights, and had only just made it back in time to collect her for a promised night at the opera. Ensconced in their private box, she’d leaned over and whispered in his ear just as the curtain was going up, and he’d spent the entire evening trying to insinuate himself closer to her, trying to discover if what she’d told him was true and driving her wild with his need when he had.
Before the opera was over he’d finally manoeuvred her into the shadowed recesses of the box and they’d come together in a heated rush. It had been wild and daring and reckless, and all of those things that had made their lovemaking so passionate and satisfying.
‘That was before,’ she whispered, trying to suppress the once familiar thrill of risky sex with a man made for it.
‘Indulge me,’ he said, so huskily and suggestively that it was all she could do to resist her insides melting, ‘for old times’ sake.’
After what they’d done before, how could she not be tempted? But giving in to him would hardly help her cause. She lifted her chin, determined to make her case plain. ‘It makes no difference. I won’t sleep with you.’
‘Have I asked you to?’
‘Well, maybe not in the last five minutes, no.’
‘Relax, querida,’ he said with a shrug. ‘You have told me you do not wish to become involved with me again. Why must you keep repeating it? Who are you trying to convince?’
‘Bastard,’ she muttered, with some satisfaction as he pulled the door closed behind him. She felt herself being sucked deeper and deeper into his dark plans, but that didn’t mean she had to go along with them. Immediately she crossed to the bank of wardrobes that lined one mirrored wall, sliding open the doors, searching for the clothes she’d been promised had been returned to the suite. She pulled open every drawer, searched every space, but there was nothing of hers, only Alejandro’s impeccable clothes gracing the wardrobe. She flopped down on the bed, her heart heavy in her chest.
She cursed him again—yet even as she did, even though she knew she should feel incensed by his actions, she couldn’t dispel the heavy coiling ache building inside her, the inexorable buildup of excitement that came with being with this man. He wanted to make love to her. He’d made that plain.
But damn him! She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting her. And if she needed a reason to be all the more determined to resist his advances, this was surely it.
Reluctantly she abandoned the voluminous wrap in which she’d once felt so exposed, and slipped the dress over her head, the fabric falling like a waterfall, sliding over skin in a silken kiss. She zipped it up, thankful that the halter offered some kind of support, and never before more grateful for lining. But still the fabric caressed her skin, sensitising it, and even as she strapped on the glittering sandals she could feel her breasts swelling, her nipples hardening at the sensual caress of silk against skin—and the knowledge that Alejandro would know exactly how little she was wearing under it.
She gathered up the clutch purse and opened it, surprised, but realising she shouldn’t be, that someone had transferred from her handbag the very items that she might need tonight. As she straightened and turned she caught her reflection in the wall of mirrors. Just as he’d asserted, the dress was a perfect fit, accentuating curves she’d thought she’d lost, its length lapping at the ground behind her like the waves lapping at the shore as she moved.
And the way the fabric draped across her hips nobody would know she wasn’t wearing a stitch underneath.
Nobody except Alejandro. But no way would she give him the satisfaction of knowing it bothered her.
She opened the door to join him, doing her best to ignore the feel of a lover’s caress on her skin as she moved, and plastering a supremely confident look on her face she had no right to claim.
He stood with his back to her, pouring champagne into two gold crystal champagne flutes. Reflected in the mirrored back of the sideboard she could see his look of concentration, his expression and every part of his bearing showing his aristocratic upbringing. Leah’s feet came to a halt, the madness of her situation defying understanding. For even after she’d had the best in beauty treatments, was now wearing haute couture clothes, the gulf between them had never been more obvious to her. They were worlds apart. He was a nobleman from a noble family, practically royalty in Spain, and she was no more than a humble seamstress who knew more about money problems than she cared to.
She was denim to his superfine merino. She was rags to his riches.
So why was he here? Why would he want her back? Unless it was to toy with her like a cat did with a mouse? He could get what he’d got from her from anywhere, with just one click of those aristocratic fingers.
Those fingers closed now around a flute, and he turned to her then, a glint lighting up his black-as-night eyes, sparking them to a slow burn that seemed to see right through her gown. ‘Dios, but you are a beautiful woman, Leah.’
She closed her eyes as the tremor hit, his voice so low, so husky, that it was impossible not to be moved as it vibrated its way into her body, zeroing in on those sensitive places she’d rather not have left uncovered. And when those feelings were under control she opened her eyes and he was there, standing before her, with ten times more beauty than she would ever possess. It was part of him—a raw, natural beauty that permeated his bone structure, his colouring, his muscled flesh, elevating him above the mere mortal and rendering him almost god-like.
No, they had nothing in common. They had only ever been equals in bed, and that would never have lasted. That would never have been enough.
She took the glass he offered, took a sip of the fine wine. ‘Thank you,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘And thank you for your generous gift at the beauty spa.’
‘There is no improving on perfection,’ he murmured, dismissing his luxurious gift with a shrug, ‘merely window-dressing.’
She turned away, feigning interest in the city lighting up outside the windows, not wanting to hear more of his smooth words, and far more concerned to put some distance between them. Because it was impossible to remain impassive towards him when the fabric of her dress reminded her every time she moved of her nakedness beneath. And it was impossible to remain impassive when faced by such potent masculine sexuality. At this rate she would never last the evening.
She swung back, impatient already. ‘When will you tell me what you know about my brother?’
‘And give you a reason to leave before we’ve had dinner?’
‘You expect I will leave once you tell me?’
‘You have made it plain that you would rather not see me again. Right now the only reason you are here is because you want to know what I know. Is that not true?’
‘You know it’s true.’ But inside a tiny voice said liar. It wasn’t the only reason at all. But she quickly stamped down on that tiny seed of truth.
‘Then why would I risk cutting this evening short?’ He joined her at the window, sending her skin once again to prickly awareness. ‘Are you hungry?’
She tried to remind herself he was talking about food. ‘A little.’
‘Then I should not make you hunger any longer.’
And she wondered if he was.
‘Come,’ he said, relieving her of her barely touched flute, ‘I have made a reservation in what I am assured is one of Sydney’s top restaurants. I am hoping it will live up to its reputation.’
He took her elbow in his hand, and the electric shock of his hand on her bare skin sent ripples straight to her breasts. Her bodice felt suddenly snugger, the fabric straining as her nipples h
ardened and firmed, and the tender flesh between her thighs was acutely sensitive as he led her to the door, making even just walking a sensual torture.
She bit down on the sensations. One evening with Alejandro she had to endure. Just one evening. And just as soon as he told her what he knew about Jordan she’d be free to go. She’d walked out on him once before. She could do this.
The restaurant more than lived up to its reputation. Perched on the end of a small spit on the North Shore, amidst lawns and park land, it was intimate rather than stuffy, welcoming rather than pretentious, despite the clearly well-heeled clientele.
Along one side a wall of windows gave an unparallelled view over the water, taking in Sydney’s premier sights from one vantage point. At night the green-lit Sydney Harbour Bridge managed to look both formidable and yet ghostly, and the sails of the Opera House were all sublime elegance and architectural splendour, the lights of the city towers making a spectacular backdrop.
But, while the views were magnificent, it was the menu—featuring the freshest seafood and the most tender grain-fed steak—that set the restaurant apart. After an afternoon when Alejandro had set her empty stomach on spin cycle, Leah found the choices almost overwhelming, finally settling for the simplest seafood dishes she could find.
Their order was taken, water delivered to the table and glasses filled, and it was all so civilised, the ambience so calming, that it was impossible not to relax. Mood music played softly in the background and Leah tuned in, turning her attention out of the window while Alejandro discussed wine choices with the waiter.
The view was stunning. Living in the depths of a Sydney suburb meant she rarely got a chance to appreciate the attractions of the harbour. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ she said as the wine waiter departed, taking in the view of the Opera House jutting into the dark waters of the harbour at night and finally feeling herself unwind a little. It didn’t hurt knowing that Alejandro could hardly take advantage of her in the midst of a public restaurant.
‘You are,’ he said. ‘Very beautiful.’
The words washed over her in a heated caress that set her nerves right back on edge again. She swivelled towards him, to set him straight, and their knees collided under the table in a tangle of heat. She angled her legs away, tucking them tightly behind one leg of her chair.
‘Please don’t say those things.’
‘Because the truth hurts?’
‘No. Because even if it were true it’s not your place to say it. Not any more.’
‘Since you walked out on me, you mean?’
The glimmer of ice in his charcoal eyes didn’t go unnoticed. It surprised her. She’d been the one to decide to leave the relationship, sure, but he’d made it crystal-clear as she’d fled that the feeling was mutual.
‘Since we separated and went our own ways, yes. So maybe we should find something else to talk about. Like my brother, for instance.’
The waiter arrived, proudly bearing the wine and expertly performing the uncorking ceremony. The wine had been tasted, judged perfect and poured in the space of less than a minute.
‘Maybe you’re right. We should change the subject,’ Alejandro agreed as the waiter disappeared as quietly as he’d arrived.
Leah looked up, surprised but encouraged that he wasn’t going to argue with her.
‘Maybe,’ he continued, ‘we could talk instead about that party in Monaco on Howard Finlayson’s boat. You were hot, you said, and needed some fresh air on deck.’
She looked from side to side, judging their distance from other diners and finding it wanting, despite the soft cover of the music. ‘I don’t think…’
He took her hand, sandwiching it between his own, and kept right on talking. ‘You were so hot you were on fire. I’d barely got outside that hatch and you were begging me to make love to you—demanding it—even though anyone could have discovered us at any moment. And so I did…’
It wasn’t just the words, it was the lazy circles his fingers were tracing on the top of her hand. Lazy circles triggering a response in her body that was anything but. ‘Alejandro! Stop.’
‘…so I hitched up your dress and we made love in the open air, right there against the railing, with nothing but the stars above and the lights of Monaco twinkling in the distance. And when you came, you called my name out so loud I had to plunge my tongue into your mouth and silence you with my kiss. Do you remember that?’
His shocking reminiscences should have made her livid. She should have been incensed. But the memories were too vivid, his sensual massage adding a tactile element to his words, and instead of feeling shocked she felt his words deep inside her in an aching, desperate need. A need she’d battled to keep a lid on ever since he’d walked back into her life. A need that was building even now like a pressing demand. And in that instant she knew without a shadow of a doubt that if she stayed even a moment longer she’d be lured back down that slippery slope into his sensual world.
Once that happened, would she ever have the strength to escape again? She’d already lost her heart, left it battered and bleeding when she’d turned her back on Alejandro the first time. If she didn’t keep her head now, she was on track to lose what was left of her pride. She had to get out of there.
She rose slowly from the table, trying unsuccessfully to tug her hand out from under his without creating a scene. ‘I don’t think there’s any point continuing this conversation. I want to go home. I’ll get the maître d’ to call me a taxi.’
His eyes glittered dangerously across the table from her, his hand refusing to let her go, even tightening around hers with a slow intent that told her he meant business.
‘You’re leaving before you’ve eaten?’
‘I’m not feeling very hungry any more.’
‘And before we’ve even discussed your brother?’
‘Why should I stay, when you’ve made it plain that once you tell me you expect me to leave anyway?’
‘No, I said you could go. The choice would always be yours.’
‘And why should I choose to stay?’
‘Because you love your brother and you don’t want to see him get hurt.’
Disbelief was her first reaction, closely followed by outrage. ‘What are you suggesting?’ she fired at him in a whisper. ‘That if I don’t sleep with you, you’ll break Jordan’s legs? No wonder you thought I would leave once you told me. I knew you were ruthless, but even I didn’t realise you could stoop to those depths.’ She tugged on her hand, still imprisoned within Alejandro’s. ‘Let me go! I’ve heard enough.’
His jaw was set as if it had been chiselled from granite, his eyes unrelenting. ‘I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about the people he owes money to.’
‘What people? He told me he’d got a bank loan.’ She blinked, the feeling of foreboding she’d been carrying around all week becoming a chill that jagged down her spine and threatened to buckle her knees. She dropped back into her seat before she fell down, her mind fitting the pieces together: the panicked phone calls asking if he could borrow money, his increasing anxiety as the date for the repayment of his loan approached. ‘Oh, God, please don’t tell me he went to a money-lender?’
Across the table, Alejandro nodded, and her heart fell like a stone. She’d been trying for days to think up ways of appeasing the bank, of trying to work out some schedule of repayments. But it wasn’t a bank they were dealing with. She swallowed. She’d seen reports in the papers about people who had fallen foul of money sharks. She could not let that happen to her younger brother. Not when she knew it all came down to her.
‘This is all my fault,’ she said, staring unseeing over the ever-changing reflected lights on the darkened harbour. ‘I should never have stayed away so long. I should have come home and helped him with the business like he wanted.’ Instead she’d fallen for a Spaniard with flashing eyes and a too easy charm, who in a chance encounter on a brief Mediterranean holiday had swept her off her feet and into his bed in a h
eartbeat. And now they were both suffering the consequences…
‘Your brother is a man. Old enough to make his own decisions.’ Alejandro’s voice was rough, unforgiving. ‘He should not need his sister’s help to avoid such foolhardiness.’
‘But if I hadn’t left him alone—’
‘Then it might be both your names on the loan documents instead of just his, and the thugs who loaned him the money might have you too, in their sights.’
She shuddered with the knowledge of what might be in store for her brother. She’d known Jordan was certain he was on a sure thing with his internet used-car trading scheme, but how could he have been foolish enough to have succumbed to such apparently easy cash?
‘I have to call him,’ she said, half rising once again from the table. ‘Talk to him, make sure he’s all right.’
‘There is no need. He is safe. I have made sure of that.’
‘You have? I don’t understand. What’s going on here? How do you know all this?’
He smiled then, a smile that warmed its way all the way into her soul, and just for a moment she felt her resistance to him crumbling, felt the once familiar warmth of his smile and the tug of sensual heat that came with it. How she’d missed that look!
‘You knew me for six months, querida. You watched me at work, you watched me at play. You must know I never embark on either without doing my homework.’
Business—always business. It was just what she needed to banish those unwanted stirrings, to force them back into a bottle and ram the stopper in tight. She couldn’t afford to let herself be swayed by his potent sexuality. Not when there was so much at stake.
She forced her head away, brushing aside the uncomfortable knowledge that he’d had her brother’s financial affairs investigated—and no doubt her own as well—if only because now she was getting some clue as to Jordan’s real financial circumstances. Goodness only knew when Jordan had been planning to tell her the whole sorry tale.
‘He told me he’d borrowed forty thousand dollars. But if he got that from a money-lender…’ She frowned, her teeth making tracks in her lipstick. Easy money came at a high price—but how high, exactly? Her tiny bedsit wasn’t worth a lot, but maybe she could borrow enough against it to help Jordan out. ‘How much does he now owe?’
