by Maya Blake
‘Why?’ she whispered, too afraid to hope.
He swallowed. ‘Rafael woke up—really woke up yesterday.’
Her heart lurched. ‘Is he okay?’
Marco nodded. ‘I went to see him this morning. He told me what happened in Budapest.’
Sasha sighed. ‘I know it was stupid, but I lost it when I found out what Rafael was doing.’
‘You mean deliberately using your friendship to make Raven jealous?’
She nodded. ‘I think she was smitten with Rafael when she first joined the team. That changed when she found out he’d dated most of the women in the paddock. She refused to have anything to do with him after that.’
Marco pursed his lips. ‘And he, of course, found it a challenge when she kept refusing him. Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded.
‘You told me the significance of your mother’s ring. I didn’t think you needed to know Rafael was intending to use it to...’
‘Get lucky?’ He grimaced, then sobered. ‘He’s over that now, I think. He’s seems different—more...mature. I think the accident was a wake-up call for him.’
His eyes locked on her, their expression so bleak it broke her heart.
‘For me too. You were right.’
‘I was?’
He moved towards her suddenly. ‘Sí. I was living in the past. I knew it even before you left León. I knew it when I came to see you in São Paolo. Hearing Rafael tell me what I already knew—how great you are, how much of a friend you’d been to him...’ He stopped and swallowed. ‘Did I mention I’m the stupidest person I know right now?’
‘Um, you may have.’
‘What I said in São Paolo was unforgivable...’ His anxious gaze snared hers. ‘I was in shock, but I never should’ve said what I did. I’m sorry you lost your baby. I think you would’ve made a brilliant mother.’
‘You do?’
‘Sí. I saw how the Children of Bravery Awards affected you. You held it together despite your pain. Watching you on stage with the kids made me wish my child had had a mother like you. At least then she would’ve had a chance.’
Tears filled her eyes. ‘Oh, Marco...’ She could barely speak past the lump in her throat.
Another grimace slashed his face. ‘I’ve made you cry again.’ He sat next to her and gently brushed away her tears. ‘This wasn’t what I intended by coming here.’
‘Why did you come here, Marco?’
He sucked in a huge breath. ‘To tell you I love you. And to beg your forgiveness.’
‘You love me?’
He gave a jerky nod. ‘It ripped me apart to learn I’d had your love and lost it because I’d been so stupid. When you called two days ago—’
‘When you hung up on me?’
‘I panicked. The hospital had just called about Rafael. I thought you knew and were calling to ask to see him.’ He frowned. ‘Why did you call?’
‘I had something to tell you. When you hung up on me I wrote a letter instead.’
‘A letter?’
‘Well, it was more like a list.’
She’d done it to stop herself from crying—something she couldn’t seem to stop doing lately.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled it out and held it towards him. ‘Here.’
He stared at the paper but didn’t take it, his face ashen. ‘Is forgiveness anywhere on that list, by any chance?’
Her gaze sharpened on him. ‘Forgiveness?’
‘Yes. Forgiveness of judgemental bastards who don’t know the special gift of love and beauty and goodness when it’s handed to them.’
‘Er...’ She glanced down at the list, her thundering heartbeat echoing loudly in her ears. ‘No. But then I’ve only had two days to work on it.’
Dropping down on his haunches, he cupped her face in his hands. ‘Then consider this a special request, por favor. I know I have a lot of grovelling to do for judging you harshly from the beginning.’
‘You were hurting. And you were right. I was acting out of guilt.’
‘No. You were doing whatever it took for you to move on—whereas I let one stumbling block shatter me. I resented you for that.’
‘The blows you were dealt were enough to knock anyone sideways.’
‘But I let it colour my judgement. I told myself I had recovered, that I didn’t care, but I did. Do you know that until you came to León I hadn’t entered that garage in over ten years? You opened my eyes to what a barren life I’d led until then.’
‘Look at the letter, Marco.’
He inhaled sharply and stood. ‘No. If you’re going to condemn me I’d rather hear it from you.’
‘You might want to sit down.’
He stuffed his fingers into his coat pockets, but not before she caught the trembling of his hands.
‘Just tell me.’
‘Fine. But if you faint from shock don’t expect me to help you. You’re too big—’
When he made an incoherent sound racked with pain, she unfolded the paper.
Anxiety coursed through her. He’d said he loved her, but what if Marco truly didn’t want another child? What if the loss of his unborn child had been too great a pain for him ever to move on from?
‘Sasha, por favor.’
‘That’s the second time you’ve said please in the last five minutes,’ she whispered.
When his eyes grew dark, she read aloud. ‘“Marco, you were an ass for hanging up on me but I think you should know—”’ She looked up from the sheet. ‘“You’re going to become a father.”’
For a full minute he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. Then he stumbled into the chair. His hands visibly shook when he reached out and cupped her cheek. ‘Sasha. Please tell me this isn’t a dream,’ he rasped.
‘This isn’t a dream. I’m pregnant with your child.’
A look of complete reverence settled over his face before his eyes dropped to her still-flat stomach.
‘Are you okay? Is everything all right?’ he demanded.
‘You mean with the baby?’
‘With both of you.’
‘Yes. I saw the doctor. Everything is fine. Does that mean you want the baby?’
‘Mi corazón, you’ve given me a second chance I never would’ve been brave enough to take on my own. I may have burned my bridges with you, but, yes, I want this baby.’ His eyes dropped to her stomach, and lingered. ‘Por favor, can I touch?’
Sweet surprise rocked through her. ‘You want to touch my belly?’
‘If you’ll allow me?’
‘You know the baby isn’t any larger than your thumb right now, don’t you?’
‘Sí, but my heart wants what it wants. Please?’
Renewed tears clogged her throat as she nodded and unbuttoned her jeans.
Warm fingers caressed her belly. Watching his face, she felt the breath snag in her chest at the sheer joy exhibited there. Then his eyes locked on hers and his fingers slid under her sweater, heating her bare flesh.
Her heart kicked, the fierce love she felt for this man and for her baby making her throat clog with tears. Reluctantly she withdrew from his seductive warmth. ‘Marco, I haven’t finished reading the letter.’
A look of uncertainty entered his eyes. ‘I know what a hard bargain you can drive. Is there any room for negotiation?’
‘You need to hear what’s in it first.’
He gave a reluctant nod, his joy fading a little.
‘“If it’s a boy I would like to name him after my father. One of his names, at least.”’
A quick nod met her request. ‘It will be so.’
‘“I want our child to be born in Spain. Preferably in León.”’
He swallowed hard. ‘Agreed.’
> She looked up from the paper. ‘“I’d like to stay there after the baby’s born. With you.”’
His eyes widened and he stopped breathing. ‘You want to stay in León? With me?’
Her heart in her throat, she nodded. ‘Our child deserves two parents who don’t live in separate countries.’
Disappointment fleeted over his face. ‘You’re right.’
‘Our child also deserves parents who love each other.’
Pain darkened his eyes. ‘I intend to do everything in my power to earn your love again, Sasha.’
She shrugged, her heart in her throat. ‘You’ll need to focus your energies on other things, Marco. Because I love you.’
He sucked in a breath. ‘You...love me...?’
‘Yes,’ she reiterated simply. ‘I knew in León, even though I’d convinced myself it wouldn’t work.’
‘I didn’t exactly make it easy. I felt my life unravelling and I got desperate.’
Shock rocked through her. ‘Was that why you sold the team?’
He grimaced. ‘Rafael’s accident and your near-collision in Korea convinced me it was time to get out of racing. But I managed to bulldoze my way through that too. I also may have left a tiny detail out regarding your firing.’
‘Oh?’
‘The sale contract included a stipulation that you were to have first refusal of the lead driver’s seat. If you wanted it.’
Lifting loving hands, she cradled his face. ‘Didn’t you read Tom’s press release last week?’
‘What press release?’
‘I’ve retired from motor racing.’
He frowned. ‘What about your promise to your father?’
‘He would’ve been proud that I helped you win the Constructors’ Championship. But what he really wanted was for me to be happy.’
‘And are you?’
‘Tell me you love me again and I’ll let you know.’
‘I am deeply, insanely in love with you, Sasha Fleming, and I can’t wait to make you mine.’
She flung the letter away and slid her arms around his neck. ‘Then, yes, I’m ecstatically happy.’
EPILOGUE
‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MI PRECIOSA.’
Sasha turned from where she’d been watching another stunning León sunset and tucked the blanket around their two-month-old baby.
‘Shh. You’ll wake him.’
Marco joined her at the crib. With a look of complete adoration on his face, he brushed a finger down his son’s soft cheek. ‘Jack Alessandro de Cervantes can sleep through a hurricane—just like his mother.’ He pressed a kiss on his son’s forehead, then held out his hand to her. ‘Come with me.’
‘Marco, you’re not giving me another present? You’ve already given me six—oh, never mind.’ By now she knew better than to dissuade her husband when he was on a mission. Today his mission was to shower her with endless gifts.
‘Sí, now you’re learning.’
As Marco led her to their bedroom she glanced down at the large square diamond ring he’d slid next to her seven-month-old wedding ring this morning. Not a week went by without Marco giving her a gift of some sort. Last week he’d presented her with the most darling chocolate Labradoodle puppy, and then grumbled when she’d immediately fallen in love with the dog.
‘I hope it’s not another diamond. There’s only so much bling a girl can wear before she’s asking for a mugging.’
‘It’s not a diamond. This present is much more...personal.’ He shut the door behind them, settled his hands on her hips and pulled her closer, his hazel eyes growing dramatically darker. ‘The kind of personal that happens when you wear this T-shirt.’
‘Why do you think I’m wearing it?’
He gave a low, sexy laugh. ‘Dios, you’re merciless.’
‘Only when it comes to you. Turning you on gives me a huge buzz.’
Stretching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, luxuriating in their long kiss until she reluctantly pulled away.
At his protest, she shook her head. ‘I have something to show you before we get too carried away.’
Reaching towards her bedside table, she handed him a single piece of heavily embossed paper.
He read through the document before glancing up at her. ‘It’s finalised?’
Happiness burst through her chest. ‘Yes. The mayor’s office sent over confirmation this afternoon. I’m officially patron of the De Cervantes Children’s Charity. My programme to help disadvantaged kids who’re interested in racing is a go!’
His devastating smile held pride even as he sighed. ‘Between that and you being spokeswoman for women motor racers, I see my cunning plan to keep you busy in my bed having babies fast disappearing.’
Her smack on his arm was rewarded with a kiss on her willing mouth.
He sobered. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go back to racing? You know you’d have my support in that too.’
Sasha blinked eyes prickling with tears and pressed her mouth against his. ‘Thank you, but that part of my life is over. The chance to work with children is another dream come true. As for making more babies with you—it’s my number one priority. Right up there with loving you for ever.’
His eyes darkened. ‘I love you too, mi corazón.’
‘Enough to take advantage of the instruction on my T-shirt?’ she asked saucily.
With a growl, he tumbled her back onto the bed and proceeded to demonstrate just how good he was at taking instruction.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from MORE THAN A CONVENIENT MARRIAGE? by Dani Collins.
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CHAPTER ONE
GIDEON VOZARAS USED all his discipline to keep his foot light on the accelerator as he followed the rented car, forcing himself to maintain an unhurried pace along the narrow island road while he gripped the wheel in white-knuckled fists. When the other car parked outside the palatial gate of an estate, he pulled his own rental onto the shoulder a discreet distance back then stayed in his vehicle to see if the other driver noticed. As he cut the engine, the AC stopped. Heat enveloped him.
Welcome to hell.
He hated Greece at the best of times and today was predicted to be one of the hottest on record. The air shimmered under the relentless sun and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. But the weather was barely worth noticing.
The gates of the estate were open. The other car could have driven straight through and up to the house, but stayed parked outside. He watched the female driver emerge and take a moment to consider the unguarded entrance. Her shoulders gave a lift and drop as though she screwed up her courage before she took action and walked in.
As she disappeared between imposing brick posts, Gideon left his own car and followed at a measured pace, gut knotting with every step. Outrage stung his veins.
He wanted to believe that wasn’t his wife, but there was no mistaking Adara Vozaras. Not for him. Maybe her tourist clothes of flip-flops, jeans chopped above the knees, a sleeveless top and a pair of pi
gtails didn’t fit her usual professional élan, but he knew that backside. The tug it caused in his blood was indisputable. No other woman made an immediate sexual fire crackle awake in him like this. His relentless hunger for Adara had always been his cross to bear and today it was particularly unwelcome.
Spending the week with her mother. This ain’t Chatham, sweetheart.
He paused as he came alongside her car, glancing inside to see a map of the island on the passenger seat. A logo in its corner matched the hotel he’d been told she was booked into. And now she was advising her lover where to meet her? Walking bold as you please up his million-dollar driveway to his billion-dollar house? The only clue to the estate’s ownership, the shields welded to the gate, were turned back against the brick wall that fenced the estate from the road.
Gideon’s entire body twitched with an urge to slip his reins of control. He was not a poor man. He’d got past envying other men their wealth once he’d acquired a certain level of his own. Nevertheless, a niggle of his dock-rat inferiority complex wormed to life as he took in what he could see of the shoreline property that rolled into a vineyard and orange grove. The towering stone house, three stories with turrets on each corner, belonged on an English estate, not a Greek island. It was twenty bedrooms minimum. If this was the owner’s weekend retreat, he was an obscenely rich man.
Not that Adara needed a rich man. She had grown up wanting for nothing. She had a fortune in her own right plus half of Gideon’s, so what was the attraction here?
Sex.
The insidious whisper formed a knot of betrayal behind his breastbone. Was this why she hadn’t shared that stacked body of hers with him for weeks? His hands curled into fists as he tried to swallow back his gall.
Dreading what he might see as he looked to the front door, he shifted for a full view. Adara had paused halfway to the house to speak with a gardener. A truck overflowing with landscaping tools was parked midway up the driveway and workers were crawling like bees over the blooming gardens.
The sun seared the back of Gideon’s neck, strong enough to burn through his shirt to his shoulders, making sweat pool between his shoulder blades and trickle annoyingly down his spine.
