The Buenos Aires Marriage Deal

by Maggie Cox

  ‘Did she?’

  Almost afraid to say anything, in case she broke the suddenly intimate spell that seemed to enfold them, Briana crossed her arms over her silk shirt and chewed apprehensively down on her lip. She remembered Paloma Dominguez well. The woman was as tall and striking-looking as her son, and could be equally intimidating. Once upon a time she had been one of the world’s most famous fashion models. It was hard to imagine her as a relaxed young mum, making a fuss of her beautiful little boy…

  ‘How long will he sleep, do you think?’ Crouching down beside the couch, Pascual leaned forward to brush back some of the wayward silky curls from the child’s creamy smooth forehead.

  Watching, Briana almost held her breath. Knowing from experience how tender as well as passionate this man’s touch could be, she knew a spontaneous longing for him to touch her as gently and reverently. All the things she had loved about him were coming back to her in a beguiling wave of powerful memory, and every defence was suddenly terrifyingly open and vulnerable to him. Seeing him with their child, Briana felt even more exposed.

  ‘He should wake very soon. He’ll be hungry,’ she answered.

  Rising to his feet, Pascual studied her deeply. ‘How could you have kept him from me?’

  Her gaze locked with the heartbreak in his unguarded ebony eyes, and regret and sadness almost made her stumble. ‘I see now that it was wrong of me,’ she said, her voice dropping to almost a whisper.

  ‘Yes…it was. Whatever you think I did to you…I did not deserve this!’

  ‘Mummy?’

  At that very moment Adán stirred, and both adults’ attention was immediately diverted.

  Hurriedly wiping at her moist eyes, Briana dropped down onto the edge of the couch and drew the small sleepy form into her arms. ‘Hello, my angel. Grandma told me she took you swimming…did you have a lovely time?’

  ‘Yes…’ Adán’s voice was still husky from sleep. He leant his curly dark head against his mother’s chest, then glanced up warily at the tall dark man looking down at him.

  Bestowing a kiss at the side of his soft cheek, Briana tightened her arms a little round his pliant warm frame. ‘Sweetheart…I’ve brought someone home to meet you. His name is Pascual, and he’s—’

  ‘A friend.’

  To her complete surprise, Pascual dropped down onto his haunches and took one of Adán’s small chubby hands in his own. ‘I have heard a lot about you from your mother, Adán and I have been looking forward so much to meeting you. I hope you do not mind?’

  Her heartbeat regaining a more normal cadence, Briana threw him a grateful glance. His sensitivity in not immediately declaring who he was to their son completely took her aback, and she gazed at him as if confirming what he had said a while ago—she hadn’t really known him at all, all those years ago. Instead she’d allowed her fears of being rejected to consume her and colour her judgement of him completely.

  To her surprise, Adán was smiling at Pascual as if he was far from a stranger, and he was struggling to sit up straight so that he could more easily talk to the man who still held his hand in his. ‘I’ve got lots of cars!’ he declared. ‘Would you like to see them?’

  ‘Of course. I would love to see them.’

  Smiling, Pascual quickly stood up, moving swiftly to the side as the small whirlwind on Briana’s lap jettisoned itself off the couch and flew across the room to drop down beside a large blue plastic box in front of the television. Several small model cars were plunked onto the floor and pushed towards Pascual as Adán retrieved them one by one from the box.

  ‘Look!’ he said, eyes shining. ‘I’ve got a Ferrari!’

  ‘I’ve got one of those too.’ His face perfectly serious as he knelt beside him on the carpet, Pascual held up the toy car to examine it interestedly.

  ‘What colour?’ Adán demanded.

  ‘Silver.’

  ‘I like this black one best.’

  ‘You are right. It is a much better colour than silver.’

  Adán beamed.

  Briana’s mother returned with the tea and coffee. As she straightened from leaving the tray on a small side-table, she glanced pointedly at her daughter. ‘Is everything all right, darling? Do you want me to stay, or shall I leave you all alone for a while?’

  Now she glanced over at Pascual, seated on the floor with her small grandson. He looked as at home with him as if he’d been a father to the boy from day one.

  Gazing back at her, Pascual formed his lips into the most disarming of smiles. ‘Do not worry, Mrs Douglas…I am only here visiting with Adán. I do not intend to make a scene…you have my word on that.’

  ‘She’s done a good job in raising him…you’ll soon find that out.’ An emotional catch in her voice, Frances quickly withdrew her glance from Pascual’s and returned it to Briana. ‘Are you staying here tonight, or do you have to go back?’

  ‘We are going back,’ Pascual said clearly. The expression in his eyes was hard to decipher, momentarily duelling with Briana’s. ‘Unfortunately I have one more meeting that I need to attend. But I will come and see Adán again tomorrow.’

  ‘Do you mind staying over with Adán tonight, as planned?’ Briana asked, her mind whirling at the implications of returning to Warwickshire with Pascual. And yet she felt an undeniable sense of relief sweeping through her at not having to let down her clients after all.

  A very special dinner had been arranged for tonight, in Pascual’s honour, and a lot of hard work and organisation had gone into getting it exactly right. He might believe that her business was failing, and that she should be relieved to put it behind her, but she still felt committed to seeing it through right to the end and giving the service her clients had hired her to provide. It was a matter of pride, if nothing else.

  ‘Of course I don’t mind! You know I love taking care of him. Shall I come back in, say…’ she glanced down at her watch ‘…one hour?’

  ‘That would be great. Thanks, Mum.’

  ‘I’ll see you then.’

  ‘She lives just down the road,’ she explained as the door shut behind her.

  ‘That must be a big help to you.’

  His observation of her had not lingered over-long. Pascual had returned his attention once again to his son, who was busy delving deep into the large box to eagerly display the full extent of his impressive collection of toy cars.

  ‘It is.’

  Reaching for her mug of tea, Briana carefully sipped at the steaming hot liquid and wondered how long this apparent peace between them would last before Pascual once again demonstrated his disappointment and disapproval of her. But then, quickly becoming engaged by the only ever before imagined scene of father and son together, she determinedly put her fears aside and willed herself at least to try and relax for the moment.

  He fixed his tie—then pulled the knot apart and fixed it all over again. He seemed to be all fingers and thumbs this evening, and it was not like him. But then how was he supposed to function normally when he had just spent the afternoon with his son for the very first time? The boy was incredible—beautiful—his own flesh and blood.

  He had changed everything for Pascual. His life would no longer be the same now that he knew Adán existed. His emotions ranged from wanting to shout out his joy on discovering he was a father to complete strangers, to feeling devastated that he had missed four precious years of his child’s life and would never get them back.

  Pausing in front of the mahogany cheval dressing mirror, he saw the fevered glint of excitement mingled with regret in his eyes and realised the last thing he felt like doing tonight was attending a tedious business dinner—no matter how sublime the menu or how beautiful the house. Making conversation with three men he had barely anything in common with, apart from a love of playing polo, was hardly a big draw, he reflected soberly. And he was still not certain whether he wanted to sell his precious ponies to them after all.

  But then Briana would be there—attending to their every need,
no doubt, keen to impress her clients and do a good job, potentially rescue her failing business. Even though he was mad as hell with her for keeping Adán a secret from him, Pascual didn’t doubt her lush curves and flawlessly beautiful features would compensate for having to talk business when he would much rather have spent the evening with his small son, trying to get to know him a little.

  At some point during those two precious hours spent with her and their child Pascual had suddenly woken up to the reality of the fact that her business was what allowed Briana to pay the rent and put food on the table. Knowing that, he could not allow himself to deliberately make her turn her back on tonight’s event. Even though it might be the last of its kind—seeing as he intended to take her and Adán back to Buenos Aires with him…

  Leaving the others to their cigars and a third or fourth glass of wine at the table, Pascual excused himself and went in search of Briana. The last time she had appeared before them had been about an hour ago, and with the business part of their dinner over—he had finally decided to go through with the sale of the ponies after all—he was anxious to see her again. Her perfume had lingered in the air long after she had left them, and all through dinner it had subtly taunted him, reactivating that tight, coiled feeling deep in his belly.

  Putting his head round the door of the large Tudor kitchen where once again staff from the Michelin starred restaurant were busy packing away, he spied Tina sipping a cup of coffee and munching on a biscuit.

  Her face lit up with genuine pleasure when she saw him, and she hurried across the stone-flagged floor to greet him. ‘Hello. How did the dinner go?’ she asked in a rush, her cheeks pinkening a little.

  In return Pascual’s smile was polite, but restrained. ‘It was very good. The duck in particular was excellent. Please give my compliments to the chef.’

  ‘Of course I will. Are you looking for Briana?’

  ‘Yes…as a matter of fact, I am.’

  ‘She had a bit of a headache, to tell you the truth, and went up to her room for a while. If there’s anything you need…perhaps I can help?’

  Feeling the tight, coiled sensation become even more intense at the memory of Briana in the classic black jersey dress with a slightly plunging neckline she had been wearing that evening, Pascual smiled again—with just a hint of wry humour. ‘Thank you, but no. It is Miss Douglas I need to speak with. Goodnight, Tina.’

  ‘Goodnight, Mr Dominguez.’

  At the knock on the door, Briana sprang guiltily up from the bed, thinking immediately that it must be Tina. She had not intended to leave the younger woman on her own to cope for long, but she had needed a few moments to lie down and try and get rid of the tension headache that had plagued her ever since she and Pascual had arrived back at the house from their trip to London.

  She didn’t doubt it had manifested itself because of the stresses and strains of the day. The whole time Pascual had been with her and Adán she had veered between worrying about their future and being flooded with joy that at last her son and his father were together…whatever the consequences.

  Her heart knocked wildly against her ribs when she found the man she’d been thinking about on the other side of the door, still dressed in his immaculate tuxedo, looking as if he could give James Bond himself a run for his money and then some.

  ‘Is anything the matter?’ she asked, catching her breath as his dark brooding gaze dropped to her cleavage and for a disturbing moment lingered there.

  ‘Your colleague told me you had a headache. Can I come in?’

  A wise woman would probably have told him no. But right then Briana did not feel equipped to be particularly wise or strong where Pascual was concerned. Not when he stood there looking like the living embodiment of her most heartfelt fantasy and greatest desire…

  ‘I’m not up to talking very much,’ she answered, lightly touching her forehead.

  ‘That is fine with me,’ he came back, the look on his strong-boned face inscrutable. ‘I do not particularly want to talk either.’ The panelled door shut firmly behind him.

  ‘Then why are you—?’

  The rest of her question was cut off by the feeling of the most intensely melting pressure from Pascual’s commandingly erotic mouth on hers. Then his tongue thrust deep, and Briana groaned her pleasure hungrily and out loud. His hands were firmly at the side of her ribs. His touch seemed to have the shocking capacity to burn right through the jersey material of her dress and sear the skin underneath. She ached for them to be everywhere at once, such was the torrent of desire that engulfed her.

  Her whole body was held hostage to the heartfelt sensation of sensual aliveness that Pascual’s bold passionate caresses elicited, and Briana realised she wanted even more. It was true she didn’t feel like talking—the day’s events had emotionally drained her to the marrow—but she felt even less like thinking, or offering up excuses for her recklessly wild behaviour now. In truth, thinking straight around this man had always been difficult.

  Before she even knew what she was doing, she was running her fingers through the silky strands of his gleaming dark hair and arching her back, so that he could slide his hungry seeking hands into the low neckline of her dress to cup and stroke her breasts, to pinch her tight-puckered nipples inside her bra until she whimpered.

  Bending his head, once again he suckled and then nipped the sensitive skin at the side of her neck with his teeth. Erotic heat sizzled through Briana’s insides like a flaming thunderbolt. Temporarily losing her balance as she sagged with pleasure against his taut hard frame, she was hardly surprised when he tipped her up into his arms and carried her across the carpeted room to the bed without so much as speaking a word. She heard him relinquish his shoes and leave them by the side of the bed. Then, before she could quite get her bearings, he caught handfuls of her soft jersey dress and tugged the whole garment up over her head. Discarding it, he shrugged off his immaculate tuxedo, then his tie, closely followed by his perfectly tailored Savile Row shirt.

  As Briana gazed at his tanned broad chest, with its awesome display of toned musculature and the finest dark hair swirling round his flat male nipples, she almost wanted to cry at the epitome of staggering masculine beauty that was before her.

  For a moment Pascual tipped up her chin and gazed deep into her eyes. She had no clue what he was thinking. Then, once more in the grip of urgent passionate heat, and just before he attended to the zip fastener on his trousers, he hauled Briana hard against that heavenly chest of his and claimed her lips in the longest, deepest, most devastating kiss she had ever known. As his addictively spellbinding taste poured over her, like the most drugging and sensual wine she could ever imagine tasting, Briana knew right then that she had no intention of calling a halt to what was about to happen.

  She caught her breath as he slid his hands round her back and unhooked her bra. On his lips was the most lascivious heart-pounding smile Briana had ever seen, and he filled his hands with the full, soft weight of her aching breasts at last. Her relief and pleasure were indescribable.

  ‘Do you want me, Briana?’ His voice was low and resonant, with a husky catch in it. ‘Do you want me as much as I want you? It has been a long, long time…no?’

  Moving his hands down to the sultry curve of her hips, Pascual removed the remainder of her clothing and then, placing his warm palm in the centre of her chest, pushed her gently back onto the plump silk pillows behind her.

  Immediately she was on her back, and his mouth claimed her tight, engorged nipples in turn, suckling and laving them, his hot tongue stroking over her aching flesh like the only balm that could ever bring true ease. Sliding a hand down over her ribcage onto her flat stomach, he dipped even lower into the triangle of silky hair between her thighs. Urging them apart, he slid one finger into Briana’s moist heat, then two. Such was the intensity of pressure and pleasure this act bestowed that she wondered for one starry moment how she hadn’t shot right through the ceiling. Hungrily, as he moved inside her, she reac
hed out to curve her hand round his hard velvet shaft. Memory flooded her, of the many nights just like this one when she had shared his bed and been driven half out of her mind with the joy and ecstasy his magnificent body passionately delivered to hers.

  Pascual moved her hand and replaced his fingers with that most intimate part of himself, and as he thrust upwards and deep inside her Briana cried out, gripped his lean masculine hips with her thighs, wrapping the rest of her long slender legs possessively round his back.

  ‘Kiss me!’ he entreated, his dark gaze burning down into hers.

  Eagerly complying, Briana hardly knew who devoured who as their lips met and melded into one. All she knew was that the sensations and feelings the contact wrought was wonderful and she didn’t want it to stop. Just as Pascual’s thrusts became more demanding and focused she felt herself start to unravel helplessly. It had been just as he had said…a long, long time…and her emotions were so heightened round him that she couldn’t hold back either her desire or her need. Stunned, she fluttered her eyelids closed as each pulsing wave of pleasure seemed to intensify even more than the last.

  Just as she was returning to earth he held himself rigid above her. His disturbing glance was as serious as Briana had ever seen it.

  ‘Maybe now we make another baby…sí?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BRIANA’S hands tightened in shock round his smooth hard biceps. ‘You can’t be serious?’ Right up until that moment she had barely given birth control a thought, she was ashamed to admit. The realisation made her aware of just how reckless she could be around this man—how swept away by forces she definitely wasn’t in control of. ‘No! You can’t. We mustn’t!’

  But he was moving inside her again, and the sensation of his hard, strong body joined to hers was hurtling every thought that arose crashing against rocks.

  ‘I should have been there at my son’s birth! I should have been there for him for the last four years!’ Suddenly growing still, Pascual withdrew from her just before it was too late. He sat back on his heels, breathing hard.