by Kim Lawrence
Ridiculous, of course—he hadn’t changed in any fundamental way. He could walk away from this relationship at any time. He enjoyed the twins, they amused him…though they were exhausting.
Denial, Isandro, mocked the voice in his head.
The next day Zoe felt tired. Her head ached and things still hurt, but she was well enough to get up, which was just as well as she had promised to go the airport this morning to pick up Chloe, John and Hannah. She also needed to drop the kids off for their science field trip before—oh, God, just thinking about the day ahead made her headache worse.
‘Get a wriggle on, you two!’ she yelled, pulling open the front door as Harry vanished to find his rucksack he had left ‘somewhere.’
‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’
Zoe reacted to the angry voice like a bullet zinging past her ear and spun around to face the tall figure who was striding up the path to the front door. He looked dauntingly angry, but Zoe, refusing to be daunted, pressed a hand to her throbbing head and returned belligerently, ‘I might ask you the same thing. I thought you had a meeting in Paris today.’
‘It was cancelled.’ The lie came smoothly. Intercepting the direction of her gaze, he lifted the hand that held a large bouquet of flowers. ‘The gardener heard you were unwell.’
It seemed unnecessary to Isandro to explain that he had told him. ‘He says you prefer the flowers that have a scent to the hothouse roses…?’
‘I do! How lovely of him,’ she exclaimed, taking the fragrant ribbon-tied posy and lifting it to her nose. ‘I must thank him.’
‘I will pass on your message and you will go back to bed.’
Her chin went up at his dictatorial attitude. ‘You can’t just waltz in here and order me around. I’m fine and I have to pick up Chloe and co from the airport after I’ve taken the twins to—’
‘Bed!’ Isandro thundered just as the postman opened the garden gate.
‘Nice morning,’ the man said as he handed a pink-faced Zoe her letters.
‘Well, thank you for that.’ Zoe glared up at Isandro.
Georgie’s voice cut across her. ‘Isandro’s here, Harry, he’s taking us to school.’
Mortified, Zoe shook her head. The boundaries of their relationship did blur on occasion but she was sure they would not stretch to the school run! ‘No, no, he’s not…Georgie, go—’
‘Yes, I am. Go get in the car,’ he said, directing this order to the twins, who ran out before Zoe could say a word.
‘You’re not!’
‘I am.’ Ignoring her squeal of furious protest, he snatched the car keys that were dangling from her fingers and put them in the pocket of his well-cut trousers. ‘Now be a good girl and go back to bed.’
‘Do not treat me like a child.’ Even if I sound like one.
He looked impatient. ‘You are clearly still unwell. You look terrible.’ It was not his job to make her better, so why the hell had he taken it on himself to do so?
She gave a twisted smile. ‘Thanks.’ He must be right otherwise the comment would not have made her feel like crying.
‘If you drag yourself out of bed unnecessarily you will only delay your recovery.’
In a perfect world another twenty-four hours would have been nice. ‘So now you’re a doctor.’
‘You are a very bad patient.’
‘I need to—’
‘Has it not occurred to you that Chloe and her family will not thank you for infecting them with your flu bug?’
Zoe’s face fell. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
Hands on her shoulders, he turned her around. ‘So go back to bed, and for once in your life, woman, let someone else be in charge.’ He broke off at the sound of a car horn. ‘That is my car.’
He was being summoned by a pair of kids, and he was responding!
Zoe tried to remember the last time she had felt in charge and gave a small bitter laugh. ‘This from the world’s biggest control freak!’ she muttered as the door closed.
By the time she reached her bed Zoe was too tired to undress. She fell on top of it fully dressed and fell into a deep sleep.
When she woke, the afternoon sun was shining through the window and she wasn’t alone. She raised herself up on one elbow and gazed down at the man lying beside her. He too was fully dressed and sound asleep.
Or maybe not.
Isandro opened his heavy-lidded eyes and stretched a hand above his head; he had not slept the previous night but fortunately he survived well on catnaps.
He looked so gorgeous that it hurt; the pain was physical.
She was trailing her fingers lovingly down his cheek when it hit her. ‘Chloe!’ she yelped, glancing with horror at the time on the digital display of her alarm. ‘I thought you were—’
She bit her lip—an assumption she should not have made. He had taken the twins to school because that had been pretty much a fait accompli, but the last thing Isandro wanted was involvement in her domestic life. He just wanted her in bed…for how long?
She pushed away this depressing thought.
‘Relax, I have sent a car for them.’ He gave a yawn. He was sure that nursing did not involve falling asleep beside your patient, but the last twenty-four hours had taught Isandro that he was not a natural nurse and when Zoe had thrashed around restlessly and muttered his name in her sleep he had found himself unable not to respond. His physical closeness had seemed to soothe her.
‘Their flight arrived on time and they are on their way home.’
‘Thank you…I’m really sorry about being a nuisance…’
He reached and placed a hand behind her neck, his fingertips sending little flickers of electricity through her body as they pushed into her hairline.
‘You are always a nuisance.’ She turned his ordered life into total chaos and yet still he kept coming back for more…?
Zoe struggled to read his expression. ‘The twins can be very—’
‘I never do anything I do not want to do, querida.’
‘You can’t want to run the twins around and—’
He dragged her face down to his until their noses were touching. ‘Right now I want—’
‘Do you always get what you want?’ she whispered against his warm lips…God, but he smelt incredible.
‘I have that reputation.’
‘What was that for?’ she asked huskily when the long, languid kiss ended.
‘Chloe sent her love.’
‘Not like that, she didn’t.’
His throaty laugh made her grin.
‘You shouldn’t be kissing me. I’m probably infectious.’
He stroked her cheek. ‘I have an excellent immune system. I never get ill.’
You never get in love. She pushed the thought away. Why spoil what she had by wishing for something she never could have? It was hard sometimes.
‘Thanks for this morning.’
He shrugged and levered himself into a sitting position before dragging both hands through his sexily ruffled dark hair.
‘You should go. The twins will be home soon.’ She swung her legs over the side of the bed, not seeing the flicker of annoyance that moved across his taut lean features. ‘I really am feeling better now. I needed that sleep.’
After scanning her face, he nodded and got up from the bed. ‘I have arranged for Rowena to pick up the twins after their field trip,’ he said, rising with fluid grace to his feet. ‘And there is something that Mrs Whittaker called a casserole in the fridge. Apparently all you have to do is heat it up.’
‘That’s so kind of her.’
‘I’m flying to Paris in the morning.’
By the time he turned back at the door Zoe had wiped her face clean of the ludicrous disappointment she had felt at his casual disclosure. ‘Oh, and Polly is not expecting you in work until Monday.’
As the door closed she picked up the phone. ‘Polly—no, that’s why I’m ringing. I’m fine—I’ll be in work tomorrow.’
Even if
it killed her it was too late not to fall in love with Isandro, but she was damned if she was going to let him micro-manage every aspect of her life. She had to make her own decisions, stay independent. He wasn’t going to be around for ever.
CHAPTER TEN
INITIALLY IT HAD BEEN scary working in the gallery, but Zoe had soon gained more confidence and now she loved it. Especially since Polly had begun to give her responsibility, which she thrived on.
Today had been a good one. A buyer for an insurance firm had left having purchased several very expensive pastels by a new up-and-coming artist, and there was a spring in her step when Zoe finally locked up the gallery and fastened her jacket against the cold breeze blowing down the street. She was wondering if she’d make the early train when the loud honk of a car horn made her look up.
Pulled up beside the pavement, showing a selfish disregard for the parking restrictions, was a car she recognised. Her heart picked up tempo as she walked towards it, and as she reached it the window on the driver’s side rolled down.
‘What are you doing here?’
Isandro smiled. He hadn’t actually known where he was heading until he had arrived just as she was emerging from the gallery. The sight of her slim, trim figure had, if not lifted his spirits, definitely alleviated the gloom.
‘I’m heading home. Do you want a lift?’
The terse delivery made her look more closely at him, her brow furrowing as she studied his face. There was nothing specific, but she could tell that something was wrong.
‘That would be good—my feet are killing me,’ she admitted.
They had been driving along in total silence for ten minutes before she spoke. ‘So what’s wrong?’
He flashed her an impatient sideways glance. ‘Nothing is wrong…What makes you think anything is wrong?’
‘You haven’t said a word.’
‘Can’t a man enjoy a little silence? Do we have to indulge in an endless stream of boring, meaningless drivel?’
She let out a long silent whistle. ‘If you’re going to speak to me in that tone you can drop me off.’
By way of reply he pressed his foot on the accelerator. ‘Don’t be so bloody touchy.’
‘Me! So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ She gripped the door and closed her eyes as they approached a hairpin bend. ‘Or are you going to drive us off the road?’
‘I am perfectly in control of this car.’
Despite his reply she was relieved that he did perceptively slow his speed as the powerful car came out of the bend.
‘I heard from my father today.’ He compressed his sensual lips hard enough to rim them with white in a physical effort to stem the flow of information.
‘That’s nice.’ Clearly it wasn’t, and prodding gently was a dangerous strategy but she couldn’t think of any other way to get him to open up. It was obvious to her he needed to even if he was too pig-headed to admit it.
Was there some problem between him and his father…? He had mentioned his mother once in past tense, and as he’d never said anything about his father she had always assumed that both his parents were dead.
‘Nice!’ he snarled.
Zoe’s confusion and concern grew as her gaze travelled from his white-knuckled hands on the wheel to his taut profile.
‘Sorry, is it bad news?’ He couldn’t accuse her of prying when he had introduced the subject…not that he wouldn’t if it suited him, she thought with a wry smile.
‘He’s invited me to his wedding.’ He elaborated, but as the additional information was in his native Spanish she was none the wiser.
‘I suppose it’s hard to see your father moving on. Has your mother been dead long?’ Her blue eyes shone with sympathy as she looked at him through her lashes.
‘Moving on!’ His teeth came together with an audible grating sound. ‘You think this is my problem?’
‘It’s only natural, especially if you were close to your mother—’
‘My father moved on so fast the headstone was still being carved. My father—’ He broke off, a nerve in his taut jaw clenching as he stared with white-faced intensity at the road ahead.
‘There’s a layby up ahead. Pull over, Isandro,’ she said quietly.
‘Why?’
She had wondered why he had chosen the minor road, a slightly longer route, in preference to the shorter journey on the motorway. Now she was glad; at least this road was almost empty.
‘Because I don’t particularly want to end up a road-traffic-accident statistic.’ For a moment she thought he was going to ignore her, but to her intense relief at the last moment he swerved into the layby, sending up a shower of gravel.
He turned off the engine, and without a word got out of the car. Leaving the door wide open, he began to pace up and down on the grassy verge of the road.
Zoe didn’t follow him. Isandro was a man who needed space, so she let him walk while he fought the devils that drove him. He couldn’t not be elegant—the animal grace was an integral part of him, and even vibrating with anger he was riveting to watch.
This was a part of his personality he concealed behind a carefully contrived mask. This was the part of his personality that he liked to deny—the passion and fire—allowing it out only behind closed doors. She knew from experience that driving something underground didn’t make it go away; it just consumed you.
Ignoring the fact she had fallen in love with him had not lessened her feelings. It had just meant that when it surfaced…She shivered and wrapped her arms protectively around herself, hugging tight. She wouldn’t let it surface.
She stayed silent when he finally slid back into the car.
‘What do you think?’
‘About what, Isandro?’
‘I was twenty-one when my mother died, and already married.’
Zoe had lost her own father when she was a baby and she had no memory of him. Her mother’s death remained a strong and sad memory, even though at the end it had been a release.
‘My father was a wreck. Then two months after she died, out of the blue he rang and told me he’d met a wonderful woman who reminded him of my mother.’ His lips curled into a contemptuous smile. ‘Turned out the wonderful woman had a sweet daughter who he planned to adopt. And yes, the likeness to my mother was startling. It became obvious pretty quickly to everyone but him that she was a con artist. Friends, colleagues told him…’
‘You told him?’
Isandro nodded. ‘He told me I was jealous. When they finally did a flit, he was one step away from bankruptcy. He’d mortgaged my mother’s home, sold off her jewellery, and…’ His chest heaved as he struggled to contain his feelings.
‘And now he’s met someone else?’
‘Apparently.’
‘And he’s invited you to the wedding?’
She got another nod.
‘Do you really want to know what I think?’
‘I asked, didn’t I?’ The belated realisation sent a wave of shock through his body. One of the reasons Dana had cited for the breakdown of their marriage was the fact that, according to her, he never listened to her, or asked her opinion.
I need to be needed, Isandro, and you don’t need me—you don’t need anyone.
He had not disputed it, because it had been true…It still was.
Zoe arched a delicate brow and wondered about the odd expression on his face. ‘That doesn’t mean you won’t yell if I say something you don’t want to hear.’
He pushed his dark head back into the leather headrest and gave a half-smile as he looked at her from under the dark mesh of his preposterously long eyelashes.
‘Since when has that stopped you?’
Zoe was the only woman who ever challenged him. She didn’t go out of her way to say what he wanted to hear, and sometimes it seemed to him she took a perverse pleasure from winding him up.
‘I think you should go to the wedding and wish your father well.’
He clenched his jaw and swore under his br
eath.
Zoe didn’t let his response throw her. It was pretty much what she had anticipated. ‘Well, not going isn’t going to stop him. I know he screwed up once, but who doesn’t?’
‘He didn’t just screw up, he—’
‘He thought he was in love. That’s not a crime.’ Though Isandro’s expression suggested he thought it should be. ‘I’m sure he feels pretty stupid about what happened. Ashamed and embarrassed.’
‘I suppose so.’ Isandro rubbed his jaw. Had he ever really thought about how his father felt? Would a stronger man have shown more compassion?
He turned his brooding gaze on Zoe. Such uncomfortable thoughts had never come to him before.
‘And I expect he knows you’re still angry with him.’
‘I’m not…’ He caught her eyes once more and sighed, dragging a hand through his sable hair until it stood up in tufts around his bronzed face.
‘All right, I am angry…How could he take the word of that woman and not his friends, people who he had known for years?’
‘You, you mean?’
He shrugged and issued his response through clenched teeth. ‘It is not important.’
Zoe felt her heart squeeze in her chest in sympathy. ‘It must have been hurtful.’
Isandro looked from the blue eyes brimming with sympathy to the hand that lay on his arm and thought, What the hell am I doing?
Regretting the outburst that had made him reveal so much of his feelings, and equating it with weakness, he slid his arm from under her hand. He was not a man who shared his problems. His cure for extreme frustration was mind-numbing laps of the pool, or a run that battered body and mind into numbness.
This time he had not sought the pool or donned his running shoes. He had…Why had instinct made him seek out Zoe?
‘What was hurtful, as you put it,’ he countered in a harsh voice, ‘was being forced to put my own life on hold and pull in every favour I had owing in order to stop the firm going under and my father ending up in jail. It wasn’t just his money the bitch got. He’d “borrowed” from clients’ accounts.’
