Lifting the phone on the table beside her, he called down to the kitchen and ordered them breakfast.
“I won’t be able to eat,” she said softly, one hand pressed against her belly.
“You don’t have to. But it will be there if you change your mind.” He moved to the chair a few feet away from her and sat down. “I also ordered tea.”
She nodded and then lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you. You didn’t have to.”
He gave a light shrug. “It was hardly a bother. I’m hungry as well.”
“No, I mean, for helping me when I was sick.” Her cheeks filled with color and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry that you had to see me…”
“Do you think I’m some kind of animal?” he asked harshly. “You have no need to apologize to me. You’re carrying my child.”
When she flinched, he cursed himself silently for losing his temper. He wasn’t mad at her, but himself.
With a sigh, he softened the scowl on his face and stood, lifting her from the chair and then sitting down again so that she rested on his lap. “Forgive me, cariño.” He cupped her cheek and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “I simply hate that you are ill and I can do nothing about it. Please know I want to help in any way that I can.”
She swallowed visibly and there were conflicting emotions in her eyes; hesitation, confusion, and the tinge of hope.
Then, mimicking his own movements, she cupped his face with her hands and whispered, “What happened to you as a child?”
Tension coiled through his body and he didn’t breathe for a moment. How the hell had she known about his childhood?
“It’s just…I want to understand you, Andrés.” She licked her lips and stared at him anxiously. “And in the limo in Seattle, you mentioned something about your childhood being…unpleasant.”
Hell. It’d been hell. How could he have forgotten he’d let that slip? He kept his expression unreadable and said, “Don’t waste your time or energy trying to understand me. I won’t change.”
When she tried to pull free, he tightened his arm around her. Finally she lowered her lashes, but not before he’d seen the disappointment in her eyes. He was more than used to it by now though. Chloe wasn’t the first woman who’d thought she could fix him.
Even though he knew he could never love her, he didn’t like the idea of her not being around; of not feeling the same passion and need for him he had for her. She would remain in Spain at least until the baby was born, but then he would keep his promise and allow her to leave if she wanted.
The possibility that she would leave without her child was small, and he was counting on that keeping her here. But it still left a knot of unease in his stomach, knowing that she wanted to go. That still she rejected his offer for marriage.
Marriage had never seemed like anything more than a trap. But now, with a child he’d sworn he’d never have on the way, he was beginning to realize just how much he wanted Chloe as his wife, to have his child born in wedlock and have a mother.
Stroking his hand through her hair, he made a vow to himself. Over the next few months he would seduce not just Chloe’s body, but her heart as well. Make her care for him, work on creating a relationship, even if it wasn’t love.
A sharp knock came at the door, and he called for whoever it was to enter. Chloe pulled again to move off his lap. This time, he let her go.
It hurt that even after this morning their relationship couldn’t seem to move forward. If anything, this conversation had moved them back a step. His gaze had hardened and he’d completely shut himself down when she’d probed into his background. How were they ever going to make this work if he kept himself a distant, ruthless stranger to her?
Once Andrés’ employee had delivered the food and left, she moved toward the tray, needing some kind of distraction. She reached for the pot of tea and went to pour some into the delicate china cup, but her movements were sloppy and rushed, and the amber fluid sloshed out of the cup and splashed against her wrist.
She gasped, nearly dropping the pot. Andrés was beside her in an instant, taking the pot from her and setting it back down.
“Cristo, Chloe, you must be more careful.” He caught her wrist and lifted it toward the light, peering down at her scalded flesh.
“As if I did it on purpose.” Tears blurred her vision again, caused this time by pain and frustration. She just wanted to scream and sob. She wanted to kick something and throw a tantrum like a toddler. She was ridiculously emotional and didn’t even know what to do with herself. And she only blamed half of it on pregnancy hormones.
“Let me get some ice, cariño,” Andrés voice gentled, as if he regretted his loss of temper. He scooped up some ice from the silver bowl that held soft cheese, wrapping the chunks of ice in a linen napkin and then placing it against her wrist. “Hopefully it will not blister,” he murmured. His gaze rose to meet hers, the expression in his eyes as gentle as his touch. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, but the unsteadiness of her voice belied her response.
Andrés pressed a hand against her back and ushered her to the chair once more. “Sit. I will bring you tea and breakfast.”
This time Chloe didn’t protest, mostly because she didn’t have the energy to. While Andrés might shut her out from anything personal, there was almost something sweet about the way he rushed to help her. Seemed determined to take care of her. Whether it was after she dumped scalding tea on herself, or while she was experiencing morning sickness.
A few minutes later, he set a cup of tea on the table next to her and then handed her a small plate of food. Despite her protests of not being able to eat with the morning sickness, her stomach growled anyway. Perhaps she would see if she could get down at least a few bites.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her mouth curving into a slight smile as she glanced at her plate.
She’d been gone from Spain for a couple of months, but time faded when she lifted the churro and took a bite. Her taste buds danced with recognition of the fried dough rolled in cinnamon and sugar. She chewed slowly, relaxing more. She made no attempt to stop her moan of pleasure.
“It is good, I take it?” Andrés drawled with amusement.
“Yes. Quite good.” She licked the sugar off her thumb and gave a small smile. “I’d forgotten how much I love these.”
In Seattle she would usually eat a yogurt or eggs nearly every morning for breakfast, determined to have some protein to start the day. But during the summer, while she’d worked at Andrés’s resort, she’d thrown herself into the country’s culture. Eating a small breakfast of a churro or pastry, perhaps toast with jam, but saving up for the large meal that was custom to eat at lunch.
Which, perhaps, would work quite nicely now that her stomach protested too much food in the morning. She took another bite of churro, surprised to find that she was holding down her food rather well.
Andrés had dished up his own small plate of food and was about to sit down when he paused in front of her. “You have a bit of sugar,” he murmured softly and reached out to trace his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “Right there.”
Chloe almost dropped her churro. Tingles of awareness rushed through her at his touch, especially with the memory of their lovemaking still fresh in her mind.
His gaze was light and teasing. He dipped his head and his mouth hovered just above hers. “And right here, I believe.” His lips brushed hers, then his tongue flicked out over her bottom lip, catching the tiny granules of sugar.
It was only when he lifted his head did she remember to breathe again. She dragged in an unsteady breath, her pulse racing once more and every nerve in her body on high alert from his brief kiss. “Thank you,” she said huskily.
“De nada.” His mouth curved into a pleased smile as he sat back down in his chair and lifted a churro to his lips.
She was entranced at his long fingers holding the sugary stick of dough, and then when his teeth flashed white as he
bit into it.
Desire raced through her, sending warmth low in her belly. She closed her eyes, stifling a groan. Heavens, how was it possible she wanted him again so soon? All Andrés was doing was eating a churro, for God’s sake.
Andrés said suddenly, “Did you have a chance to visit Girona while you were here during the summer?”
Chloe shook her head and picked up a cracker topped with a soft white cheese. “No, I saw Barcelona, which was incredible, and that was about it.” She nibbled on the cracker and cast him a sidelong glance. “Mostly I worked at your hotel.”
Until he’d had her fired… The words lay unspoken between them but she could’ve sworn she saw the faintest flash of regret in his eyes. Then it was gone and again replaced by that unreadable stare.
It still shocked her that she’d gone to bed with Andrés that first night, completely unaware of just who he was—that he’d owned the resort. She’d been oblivious to all the power, money, and prestige he had. Would it have made a difference had she known?
Possibly. She would have certainly tried to avoid him, because sleeping with a man of his magnitude could only get you in trouble. As she’d quickly learned.
But then, it may not have mattered even if she’d known who he was, because Andrés was quite determined when he wanted something. And if he’d persisted or kissed her…she would have been a lost cause.
“After breakfast I will show you Girona,” he promised. “The medieval city is not far from here.”
Her breath caught and she gestured to the window she’d peered out of yesterday. “Is that the city you can see from there?”
“Sí.”
Despite her vow to remember she was not in Spain willingly, her pulse quickened with excitement. She set down the rest of the cracker and pushed away her plate, full now. “But…don’t you have to work?”
His gaze turned lazy; he lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “I have time for pleasure as well as business, Chloe. Today I choose pleasure.”
Her throat dried at his not-so-subtle implication.
“Can you be ready in an hour?” he continued.
“Yes. Of course.”
“Fine, then. I will meet you downstairs.” He stood and made his way toward the door.
“Wait, Andrés.”
He paused and turned to look back at her. “What is it?”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” she asked impulsively, wanting there to be no more misunderstandings between them. Wanting a clean slate.
He arched a brow and tilted his head. “Who I was?”
“Over the summer…when we first met. You never once hinted that you owned Diablo’s Paraíso and that I was under your employment.”
Andrés stilled and his expression became shuttered. “You knew who I was.”
“No, I didn’t. I’ve told you that I didn’t have a clue,” she said in exasperation. “Not until Señora Martinez told me and then proceeded to fire me.”
“Basta! There is no need for anymore lies, Chloe,” he said tersely, his expression dark as he strode back into the room. “You deliberately sought me out for your article. You set out to seduce me—”
“No,” she shouted vehemently. “If you want me to ever trust you, to try and make whatever is between us work, then you need to start believing me. I didn’t stage a near rape on the beach. I never set out to seduce you. Damn you, Andrés! You want the truth? Besides a brief boyfriend in college, you’re only the second man I’ve slept with.”
Andrés reared back as if she’d struck him. His face tightened and something dark flickered in his eyes, but she was on a roll and in no mood to stop.
“I was so drawn to you, it wouldn’t have mattered if you were the janitor of the resort. Did you ever even look at the diary you stole from me? The notes?”
“No,” he finally admitted. “I had them locked away.”
“Well, perhaps you should’ve. Maybe you’d stop thinking the absolute worst about me.”
A thick silence hung in the room, and she bit her lip, closing her eyes. Waited for his response.
Heavy footsteps fell, but they were retreating from her again. Her blood chilled and she struggled to breathe. Fear ran through her. Was he angry?
“Meet me downstairs when you’re dressed,” he said curtly, and then the door closed behind him.
Chapter 8
Andrés sat downstairs in his office, staring at the computer and the correspondences he knew he should reply to. But he couldn’t at the moment. He’d taken care of the most pressing issue, calling Pablo and asking his assistant to reschedule all his appointments for the next few days.
His gaze slid to the now-closed diary on his desk and he sighed. The weathered pages of the book and the scrawled notes she’d taken were no longer unread.
Pressing his fingers hard against his temples, Andrés shook his head. He could see now that any story Chloe had intended to write for the magazine likely had nothing to do with him, though there was no denying she’d considered including the story of the charming Spanish man she’d met on the beach.
It was not easy to come to grips with everything his assumptions had meant. He’d taken her trust. Her body—which she’d offered with absolutely no expectations…except perhaps to fall in love.
His lips curled in disgust and he let a low growl rip from his throat.
He’d destroyed the life she’d had in Spain and the life she’d managed to reassemble when she’d returned.
How the hell was he going to make this up to her? Was it even possible? He would have to. Dammit, but he needed to make her see how much she was coming to mean to him and how foolish he’d been.
He stared blindly out the large glass window of his office at the green hills beyond, trying to comprehend everything.
“Andrés?”
Tension coiled through his body and he turned to face the doorway where she stood. His heart twisted and he exhaled on a sigh.
She was an angel in a cinnamon-colored dress that accented her curves, a black cardigan over it. Her curls fell loose and shiny over her shoulders.
He lifted his gaze back to her face and flinched at the look in her eyes. There was regret, and yet a spark of pride remained. It also showed in the proud lift of her chin.
How had he ever mistaken her to be a skilled seductress whose only intent was to write a story about him?
“I’m sorry I swore at you,” she said hesitantly. “You’re upset.”
Andrés closed the lid to his laptop computer and stood from his desk, approaching her with a slow stride. He had to give her credit, she didn’t back up from his advance, though her eyes did widen slightly. “Yes, I am.” He reached her side and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her gently against him. “But I am upset with myself.”
Her breath hitched in response and she pressed the flat of her palms to his chest. “You are? Why?”
“For not realizing what a fool I was. I’m sorry, cariño.” He brushed a light kiss across her lips and reveled in her soft sigh. “You offered me so much more than your body. And I took it, never realizing just how very innocent you were.”
A familiar blush stained her cheeks; her lashes lowered.
He walked back to the desk and retrieved the diary and notes. “These belong to you.”
She glanced up in surprise, accepting the leather book with the notes tucked inside. Gratitude, raw and poignant, flickered across her face, and she gripped the book to her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes suspiciously damp.
“They were your parents,” he stated, still a bit amazed by that discovery. “The lovers in the diary.”
“Yes.” She bit her lip and gave a small nod, and for a moment naked grief reflected in her eyes. “They were. I was writing the article about them.”
This was a woman who’d already known pain. Suffering. And he’d only brought more upon her. He would make it up to her—he owed her that much.
“I’m so very sorry, Chloe. You
were right. I should’ve read them earlier,” he said gently and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Come now. Girona awaits us.”
They left the restaurant, and Chloe glanced down at the large, tanned hand holding hers, giving a slight shake of her head in disbelief. Who was this man and what had he done with Andrés?
The day had been amazing. He’d been the perfect tour guide, showing her all the sites of Girona, and she was completely enchanted with the medieval city and fascinated by its history.
Heavens, had she ever done so much walking? They’d explored many places, her favorites being the stunning gothic cathedral and monastery of St Pere de Galligants.
And then in the afternoon they’d enjoyed la comida, or what she’d simply call lunch back home. Only this had been unlike any lunch she’d had. There’d been multiple courses of food. Cheese, vegetables, soup, fish, meat, and finally, the most exquisite flan for dessert.
It had been a wonderful day, and it went far beyond just the sightseeing and dining. It was Andrés himself…he was different. Or no, he was the same man he’d been that first night in Valencia. He’d flirted continuously, treated her with a gentleness that more than once had brought tears to her eyes. He’d acted like a devoted lover, which had thrown her heart into turmoil, and she found herself questioning whether she still wanted to return home to Seattle, even if the opportunity presented itself.
“Are you sure you’re up for this last bit of walking?” Andrés asked softly, concern in his eyes as they moved throughout the city. “We could always put it off for another day. I’m worried that perhaps we’ve done too much. You must tire easier now with the baby—”
“Please, Andrés, I’m fine,” she protested, squeezing his hand to reassure him. “Honest, I forget I’m pregnant unless you remind me.” She grimaced. “Or when I’m getting sick in the morning. But if you don’t take me to the Passeig de la Muralla, I’m not going to be a very happy pregnant woman.”
The Billionaire's Baby Bargain (A is for Alpha) Page 11
