Hot Nights with a Spaniard (Mills & Boon M&B) (Mills & Boon Special Releases)

by Carole Mortimer

  “You have been crying, querida? What has happened?” Had something happened to her mother, perhaps? He would order his plane to be made ready—would take her anywhere she needed to go.

  He moved to embrace her, but she shrank away so quickly he thought she might fall. “No,” she gasped. “Don’t touch me.”

  His arms fell to his sides. Madre de Dios. Why was his chest suddenly tight?

  “Tell me,” he commanded, retreating to ground he understood. He would force her to do his bidding, to tell him what was wrong.

  In answer, her hand snaked out, connected with his cheek. He didn’t even flinch. Their gazes clashed and held. A disconnected part of him idly wondered how this would end. But the warrior in him knew what was in store. He could see the violence shaking her in its grip.

  A moment later she rushed at him, her hands balling into fists. He grabbed her wrists, held her away from him as she struggled.

  “Rebecca, for God’s sake—tell me what is wrong.” As if he didn’t have an idea.

  She sucked in a breath, wrenched herself from his grasp with a strength that surprised him. Spinning away, she wrapped her arms around her body.

  She faced him again, glaring. “You own the bank, Alejandro. You’ve owned it for over a year. The only bank that would loan my father money!” She laughed. The sound broke off into a sob. “I thought it was a mistake at first—that you’d bought it recently, along with the promissory note for Layton International’s loans. But you financed the loan. And you sold the Thailand resorts to us. They belonged to you, to one of your subsidiaries. You set everything up. When you said you make your own luck, I thought you’d watched us and waited. But you made everything happen!”

  He shrugged, tried to look casual. Unfeeling. “Sí, it is as you say.”

  She took a step forward, her fists clenching so hard her knuckles were white. “He died in Thailand. Touring the resorts you sold him in order to ruin us. My God, you are a bastard. How I could’ve thought—” She swiped at her eyes, shook her head.

  “How did you learn this?” Her face was pale, her expression almost fragile. Oddly, it bothered him.

  “It’s too ironic, really. Roger Cahill e-mailed me the documents. He dug them up while looking for dirt on you. Funny, huh?”

  “You have been in touch with Cahill?” It shouldn’t surprise him, but it did. Cahill had been the financial power behind the company fighting him over the Dubai property. No doubt she’d been in close contact with him the entire time—though she’d been in no position to learn anything truly useful to report back. Strangely, the thought she would even want to stung him.

  “I asked him what happened five years ago,” Rebecca said, sniffling. “Perhaps you should have done the same.”

  “I know what happened,” he snapped. How many times did he have to remember it?

  “Not really,” she replied, her chin thrusting out as she drew herself up. “My father killed your deal—so, yes, the Laytons tried to ruin you. I think he must have been angry because you hurt me, but I don’t know that for sure. I suppose you can blame me if you want, but you need to blame yourself as well. If you hadn’t had a fiancée—or whatever you want to call her—none of this would have happened.”

  Blame himself? What the hell was she talking about? It was her fault. He took a step forward—to do what, he wasn’t sure.

  The doorbell rang and he stopped, shook his head. Señora Flores’s footsteps pattered down the hall.

  “That’ll be my taxi,” Rebecca said. “I recommend John Barnes as the new CEO.”

  Surprise rooted him to the spot. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. He was the one in control—the one who determined when and how everything happened. She could not walk out on him again! “You are running away? What about your company?”

  “What should I do? Stay and wait for you to fire me?” She shook her head. “Layton International’s not mine anymore, is it? You’ve made sure of that. Now it’s time I got on with my life.”

  When she shouldered past him he gripped her arm, a feeling he didn’t understand seizing him in a choke hold. “This isn’t over.”

  She shuddered in revulsion. Her gaze settled on his hand, lifted to meet his stare. “Yes, it is. Goodbye, Alejandro.”

  She picked his hand off her arm. The touch of her skin seared him. He had a primeval urge to grab her, haul her to the bedroom and lock her inside until she smiled at him again. Until she made love to him like he was the only man in the world.

  But he didn’t say anything as she turned and walked to the door. What was there to say? He’d won, hadn’t he? He had Layton International. Rebecca had nothing. It was what he’d dreamed of for five years.

  He didn’t know how long he stood there, but when he finally looked up long shadows had crept across the tiles. It was over. Rebecca was gone.

  New York in summer was predictably sweltering. Rebecca made it back to her air-conditioned apartment building before she wilted, and headed for the elevator. She didn’t want to think about what she’d just bought at the drugstore, but there was no getting around it.

  Fishing in her purse for her keys, she stopped in front of her door. Twenty minutes later, she stared at the test stick. Pink. She knew what that meant. How had it happened? She hadn’t missed her pills at all. She’d had some breakthrough bleeding, and the doctor had said her body had grown too accustomed to the pill she was on. So he’d given her a different one about a month before she’d gone to Madrid.

  She dropped the stick, her heart pounding with so many emotions. Joy, yes. Pain too. In the mirror, her face was pale. Drawn. She had dark circles beneath her eyes, and she’d lost weight. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she worked to control her rioting emotions. She would not panic.

  Her baby needed her to be healthy—not this pale, sickly creature who couldn’t eat or sleep properly. Her hand fluttered to her abdomen, pressed against her womb. She was pregnant. With Alejandro’s baby. Already she loved this child fiercely. She wanted to run and pick up the phone, call Alejandro, tell him how wonderful and terrifying the news was. But she couldn’t.

  He didn’t care about her. He never had. Everything with him was about control.

  Rebecca shoved a trembling hand through her hair. Oh, God. What was she going to do? She was alone, and now she had another life to think about. How could she work and take care of her baby at the same time? Because she had to work. She hadn’t paid herself a salary since her father had died, and her savings were nearly gone. Who would take care of them both if she didn’t?

  Her mother? God, no. Alejandro? She crushed down a hysterical laugh at the thought.

  It had been four weeks since she’d left Madrid. Four excruciating weeks. She’d actually believed he might come after her. That he might apologize for all he’d done and beg her forgiveness. What a delusional fantasy!

  She could still see his face so clearly when she’d confronted him. He hadn’t denied a thing. He’d looked cold and disconnected, like he didn’t care that he’d turned her world upside down.

  She was still staggered by the depth of his betrayal. He hadn’t just watched Layton International from afar. He’d found her father’s weakness, enticed him into the loans and the Thailand properties, and kept twisting the knife even after her father died. Twisted until he’d won the battle. She’d been devastated when Roger had sent her the proof, and she’d reacted in the only way she knew how.

  Leaving her company hadn’t been easy, but it had been necessary. She could no longer allow Alejandro to control her life. For her own health and sanity she’d had to go.

  She’d been angry and bitter. She’d even thought for a brief time that she hated him. But her father had made his own choices in life. Alejandro might have manipulated the situation, but Jackson Layton had not been a puppet. He had wanted the Thailand property in spite of the best advice against the acquisition, and he’d single-mindedly gone after it.

  His death had been unexpected, but sh
e couldn’t truly lay it at Alejandro’s door. If it hadn’t been Thailand, it would have been something else. Her father had been a bit of a daredevil—skydiving, rock climbing, bungee jumping, swimming with sharks—and it was a wonder he’d lived as long as he had.

  Rebecca splayed a hand over her abdomen possessively. There was no denying how she felt about Alejandro any longer. When had she fallen again? When he’d found her with the photo album? When he’d looked at her with such naked need in the suite at the Villa de Musica?

  Or had she never stopped loving him?

  Not that it mattered how or why. She loved him. Love wasn’t something you turned on and off like a faucet, however much she might wish it so. She was in love with the man who’d ruined her. And she was carrying his child!

  The nights were the worst. So lonely. She hated sleeping alone in her bed so much she’d finally dragged a blanket to the couch and now slept there. She missed Alejandro’s big warm body, his intense lovemaking, the rare smile that changed his features and bound her heart.

  He obviously did not feel the same. He hadn’t called, hadn’t followed her, hadn’t even written an e-mail. He wasn’t tortured by sleepless nights and memories. The only thing she’d received from Spain was a severance check from Ramirez Enterprises.

  She was on her own now. She’d returned to New York to pack up her apartment, and then she was on her way to London to take a job with the Cahill Group.

  But with a baby on the way? They’d made a baby together. It was a miracle, an amazing, beautiful miracle. Oh, Alejandro, I want you to know. I want you to love us.

  Rebecca swallowed. She didn’t know how to be a mother. She’d always been busy with her career. She had friends with babies, but she didn’t understand how they knew what to do. Her own mother would certainly be no help. The woman didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. What if Rebecca didn’t either? How could she possibly put a baby through the sort of neglectful existence she’d endured?

  She drew in a shaky breath. It rattled out again and ended in a sob.

  She had to tell Alejandro. For a moment she considered pretending the baby was someone else’s. But she couldn’t do it.

  Not after Anya. He’d loved her, and he would love this child too, no matter how much he hated the baby’s mother. But how to tell him and make sure he didn’t try to take their baby away from her? Because she had to acknowledge it was a very real possibility. He hated her so much he would have no qualms about ripping her baby away and making her suffer.

  And she would never allow that. This baby was hers, and she loved it more than she’d ever loved anything in her life. She wasn’t telling him today. Probably not even tomorrow. She’d tell him when she’d figured out how to deal with him and let him know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t taking their baby away from her.

  The next few days were a blur. Between doctors’ appointments and preparing for the move to London, Rebecca didn’t have much time to herself. The movers would be here tomorrow, and she would fly the day after that. It was all so fast, but that was how she wanted it.

  She’d stopped at the bookstore on her way home and picked up two books about pregnancy and one on mothering. Who knew they had such things? But thank the Lord they did, because she would need all the help she could get. She still hadn’t figured out how to integrate this new life inside her with the one she knew—long days at the office, endless meetings and business trips—but there had to be something in these books that would help.

  She thought of the evenings when she’d used to sit at the window and wait for her daddy to come home. Her mother, if she noticed, would say, “Your père is working, ma belle. He will be home when he can. Now, go play and stop your moping.”

  How could she do her job and make sure her child didn’t feel as lonely as she had? Because she couldn’t imagine this baby sitting at a window and waiting for her to come home. She would not let it happen. Her baby would know it was loved, cherished. Somehow she would make everything work. She had to.

  Bernadette, the daytime door attendant to her building, rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet and smiled as Rebecca approached. Her blue uniform was always crisp, her smile always ready. Rebecca would miss the woman’s cheery greetings.

  “Miss Layton, good to see you. How’s the move going, hmm?”

  “It’s a pain, but I think I’ll survive,” she answered. Her days had been so busy that she was behind on many of the things she’d wanted to accomplish, but she made a mental note to give Bernadette an extra-large tip and a gift before she left.

  Bernadette leaned forward, her eyes flashing. Rebecca grinned. What manner of hunk had the woman seen now? Bernadette was always talking about the good-looking men in the building, or the ones who’d strolled by during the day. It was one of the highlights of her job.

  “Supreme eye candy alert,” she said. “A foreign type. Got out of that limo there and entered the building not more than five minutes ago. Bet he’s on his way to that beauty queen’s digs.”

  They had a former Miss Something or Other in the building, which seemed to fascinate Bernadette no end. Any time a good-looking guy went inside, she was convinced he was headed for the woman’s apartment. She was probably right.

  “How do you know he’s foreign?” A little twinge of sadness hit her as she pictured Alejandro’s incredible smile. Whoever this guy was, he couldn’t compare, she was certain. No man could.

  “Oh, honey, I can spot ‘em a mile away. But he was on the phone, and it wasn’t English he was talking. Smelled like money too, let me tell you.” She wagged her head back and forth. “Mmm-mmm, I’d sell my soul to the devil himself for one night in the sack with that guy. He’d never know what hit him.”

  Rebecca laughed and left Bernadette to her daydreams about Miss Whatever’s potential suitor. Taking one of the books out of her bag, she flipped through it while she waited for the elevator.

  So much to know about babies. Unconsciously, her hand drifted over her abdomen. She smiled when she realized what she was doing.

  “We have a lot to learn, you and I,” she said to her baby. It didn’t matter if the baby couldn’t understand her yet; it comforted her to talk to her child. Her child. Those words still gave her a little thrill. And, funny enough, she no longer felt so alone in the world, knowing she had a life growing inside her. They would be okay. Somehow they would be okay.

  She hummed a little as she walked down the hallway toward her apartment. A familiar scent seemed to linger in the air as she reached her door, and a trickle of alarm buzzed between her shoulder blades. It wasn’t a heavy cologne smell, but a scent that came from expensive clothes and a certain brand of soap. Her heart pounded into her throat as she shoved the key in the lock and pushed the door open. She closed it behind her, slid the chains in place, and let out a shaky sigh.

  What was the matter with her? Alejandro was not here. He couldn’t be here. He had no reason to be. He didn’t know about her pregnancy. And though he’d had her followed once before, he had no reason to do so now. He was finished with her. No investigator was lurking outside her building, sending reports to her gorgeous Spanish lover.

  To the father of her child.

  Rebecca shivered. Her senses were heightened due to the hormones rocketing through her system. The man visiting the beauty queen was simply cut from the same mold as Alejandro—rich, handsome, and possessed of impeccable taste. He eschewed cologne and used imported soap. So what?

  She set her bag of books on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to get a glass of cool water. There were boxes everywhere. She surveyed the open loft, the amount of work yet to be done. Despair crushed down on her.

  Though the Cahill Group was paying for her relocation, it didn’t help her in sorting through her things before the movers arrived. She had to keep busy or she’d go crazy.

  The doorbell buzzed and she sighed. Janine from down the hall had mentioned a get-together in her apartment this afternoon, but Rebecca
didn’t feel like going. Still, it was just like Janine to try and talk her into it—especially when she was leaving in two days.

  “Just a minute,” she called when the bell buzzed again. When she reached the door, she checked the peephole out of habit.

  The man standing in the hall was definitely not Janine.

  Her breath shortened, her heart plummeting to her toes before shooting through the roof. How could she deal with him? Why was he here? What would she tell him about the baby?

  Tears flooded her eyes as she folded her hands over her belly protectively. No, she wasn’t ready. If she didn’t say anything, maybe he’d go away. What in hell was Alejandro doing in New York? Maybe he’d had her watched after all? Maybe he knew everything? Cold fear dripped down her spine.

  “I know you’re in there, Rebecca. Open the door.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  REBECCA closed her eyes. That voice, the crisp Spanish inflections. The sound sent a wave of longing through her. And fury. How dare he show up now and demand she open the door to him? Where had he been a month ago? He should have been here, apologizing, begging her forgiveness. Right.

  “Rebecca—open up or I’ll kick it in.”

  She’d like to see that. The door was steel. And yet he was making enough noise that any second doors would start popping open up and down the hall. Worse, she believed he really would try to batter her door down if she didn’t answer. She yanked it open, but didn’t undo the chain.

  Alejandro stared down his nose at her. His arrogant, rotten, deceptive nose.

  And he looked every bit as delicious as he had over a month ago. He wore Armani, of course. The tailored gray suit made him look elegant and commanding. Every inch the captain of industry. He was so amazingly beautiful to her eyes. Any second her heart would crack wide open, and she’d be spilling her secrets to him.

  His gaze raked over her. “You are unwell?”