Back in the Spaniard's Bed

She crossed to the door on knees that threatened to buckle beneath her, opened it and let the noise of the outside world in. It was a welcome intrusion, loud and full of the pulse of the city, a reminder that the world didn’t begin and end with Alejandro, whatever he thought. ‘I think it’s time you were leaving.’

His passage to the door took much less time than hers but he didn’t exit as she’d hoped. Instead he stood in the doorway, regarding her solemnly. ‘I will go,’ he said, with such an air of finality that part of her wanted to weep. With relief, she tried to tell herself. But her nerves were too jangling and raw, and the thought that Alejandro might blow out of her life just as quickly as he’d blown in was somehow too much to come to terms with.

‘My car will pick you up at six o’clock. Don’t keep the driver waiting.’

So close to achieving her goal, his words were like a punch to the gut, sending her already scattered emotions further into disarray. ‘I don’t believe you. Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve been saying?’

‘I heard, but it makes no difference to me.’

‘This isn’t about you!’

‘No? Perhaps on that point we can agree. What if it was about your brother?’

She reeled back. ‘What do you know of Jordan?’

His eyes gleamed like a fisherman who’d just landed the first catch of the day. ‘We will discuss it tonight.’ He turned and made a move to comply with her request to leave. Except now she couldn’t let him.

She reached a hand out and latched on to his lean forearm, his muscled power evident even through the fine merino cloth of his coat. ‘Alejandro!’

He turned, his eyes sweeping enquiringly up from her hand to her face.

‘Please,’ she said, dropping her hand, knowing that it would be madness to meet him tonight, knowing the more time she spent with him, the more he would whittle down her shaky defences. ‘Tell me now.’

‘We will discuss it over dinner. I will take you somewhere to eat.’ His eyes flicked mercilessly over her. ‘You need filling out.’

‘Tell me now, or I won’t come.’

‘Oh, I think you will.’

And of course he was right. There was no way he was going to tell her until she complied with what he wanted. It was the way Alejandro worked, she knew. Never giving the opposition a chance. It was the reason he was so successful in business. It was the reason he was so successful in everything. Why should he treat her any differently? But a meeting was one thing. Going out for dinner with Alejandro was something else entirely.

She glanced down at herself, taking in her well-worn shoes, her denim skirt and casual shirt. Alejandro was not the type to eat at fast food chains, and that was all she was dressed for. ‘I can’t go out like this. I’ll go home first, get changed.’ Into what, she had no idea. She’d left the glitz and glamour of her mistress lifestyle in her dressing room at his villa.

‘You will not go home. You will come as you are. Just be ready when my car arrives.’

‘But—’

‘Six o’clock,’ he said.

‘Look, just so we understand each other. I’ll have dinner with you. I’ll hear what you have to say about Jordan. But I’m not changing my mind. I won’t come back to you.’

He looked down at her knowingly. ‘We’ll see,’ he said, and then he was gone.

She closed the door behind him and leaned against it, watching him slice his way through the crowded sidewalk, beautiful and black and oblivious to the stares and head-turns his passing generated. She watched him until he was absorbed into the city.

She sighed and rested her forehead against the cool glass. Jordan was up to his eyeballs in debt, just days away from the deadline to repay the money he’d borrowed—days away from who knew what disaster if he didn’t? And the last person she wanted to see, the man she’d broken ties with to save herself, Alejandro, was here, insisting she come back and press-ganging her into seeing him again.

Could things possibly get any worse?

* * *

He burned for her. His car banished, his stride ate up the Sydney streets. The wind whipped around him, but it couldn’t banish his heat; it couldn’t consume his need. Nothing could. He wanted her, and after seeing her he wanted her more than ever.

And he could have had her.

If she hadn’t pulled away, telling him she didn’t want him—lying to him—he would have had her there and then. Once more he would have felt her sweet tightness embrace him as no other woman could. Because she wanted him, he knew. He had known it from the first moment he had walked into her store, had read her own hunger in her eyes.

She needed him, no matter how much she pretended otherwise. He looked around for a street sign, getting his bearings. A woman caught his eye, smiled up at him. He scowled back and veered right.

But he had been right to come. Mentally he applauded the board’s decision to expand its casino operations into Australia. Tomorrow he was due in Queensland. And tonight he would get Leah back in his bed.

Soon her resistance would fall away. Soon she would have every reason to comply with his demands. And victory would be all the sweeter for the wait.

But right now he burned.

And he would not wait long!

Leah had never travelled to or from work in such style. She felt ridiculous, being ushered into the black limousine on a bow from the uniformed driver as if she were someone special instead of just another no-name, struggling for existence and survival in the big city. If it weren’t for the fact she needed to find out what Alejandro knew about Jordan, she would have refused point-blank to get in the car.

Especially for a six o’clock dinner. Not once in all the time she’d been with him had they eaten so early. What was the rush?

Fifteen minutes later the car pulled up at one of Sydney’s top hotels, making her feel even shabbier. She poked some stray tendrils that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ears as the driver came round to open her door, and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to quell the butterflies that had taken possession of her stomach at the prospect of seeing Alejandro again.

A smiling woman in a white fitted uniform met her as she alighted, holding out her hand. ‘Ms Mitchell? I’m Belinda from the beauty spa. Would you like to come with me?’

Leah looked to the driver, but he merely tipped his hat at her before curling himself into the driver’s seat. ‘I thought I was meeting Mr Rodriguez.’

Belinda smiled. ‘We have orders to deliver you to his suite no later than eight p.m.—which means we’d better get started. He’s ordered you the works.’

‘Has he?’ Leah bristled as she fell into step behind the woman. So, not only did he consider her scrawny and needing feeding up, now she needed a makeover before he’d be prepared to be seen in public with her. How very flattering.

Then again, anything that put off her meeting with Alejandro couldn’t be a bad thing. And a session in the beauty spa need not only be for Alejandro’s benefit. Anything that improved her self-esteem and made her feel at less of a disadvantage could only help her own cause.

She handed over her clothes for laundering in exchange for a fluffy robe, and surrendered herself to ‘the works’. It had been months since she had experienced anything like it—months since such pampering had been part and parcel of the package of being Alejandro’s love interest—and her body lapped up a luxury she could now ill afford. A scented oil bath and hot rock massage was followed by pedicure and manicure while someone else applied a facial. Finally her hair was cut and blow dried, then gathered into a style that pulled most of it up behind her head and left trailing coils down her neck. Professional make-up was the final touch.

Leah had to hand it to the team as she gazed at her reflection. They obviously knew their stuff. She felt more feminine than she had in weeks, with the dark circles around her eyes banished, letting her blue eyes sparkle, her formerly overdue-for-a-haircut hair now sleek and tamed, her cut-short-for-work nails now tapered and glossy red.

‘How do you feel?’ Belinda asked over her shoulder as the team surrounded her and surveyed their work.

Like a princess. ‘Wonderful,’ she said, and it wasn’t just their work she was applauding. Their skilful artistry had paid dividends, but there was something else she hadn’t noticed before. A resilience, a firmness in her chin that shone through and told her she didn’t have to be afraid. She’d walked away from Alejandro once before. She could handle whatever he had in mind. And now she was ready to prove it. ‘Where are my clothes?’

‘They’ve been sent up to the suite already. There’s a private lift that will take you direct to the penthouse. I’ll let the concierge know you’re ready.’

Leah swallowed back on a tinge of panic. She was expected to ascend to his room wearing nothing more than a fluffy robe? Alejandro certainly expected things all his own way. But she refused to let it undo her resolve as Belinda led her to the lift and bade her a good evening. She was up to whatever he threw at her. Hadn’t she just convinced herself of that?

There was no lobby. The lift doors opened directly into an expansive living room, decorated in golden hues and sprinkled with antique furniture. A grand piano held pride of place in one corner, a massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the scent of fresh flowers from numerous arrangements perfumed the air.

But all these things were incidental when it was the body sprawled so seemingly casually into a chair, one foot propped up on a footstool, that held her interest. For there was nothing casual about him. He looked ready to spring from his chair like a jungle cat, all grace and dark power, beauty and danger, wrapped up in one irresistible package. That she would resist! He watched her over steepled fingers, his gaze dark and penetrating. She refused to shrink back, although she did tighten the belt around her waist.

‘They said my clothes were sent up here.’

His head moved the merest fraction—his concession to a nod. ‘Not that you will be needing them.’

He rose from the chair in one languid movement that emphasised the lean power of his body. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘for forgetting my manners. I was deep in thought, and then you emerged from the lift looking like a goddess. I was simply struck dumb.’

All her senses were on red alert as he came closer. Not just because of his silken words, but because he looked so good himself. He’d showered recently, she could tell. His hair was curled and damp at the collar of his stark white shirt—a shirt that emphasised his rich olive skin and made him look even darker and more dangerous.

‘Lucky for me I scrub up well,’ she tossed into the ring, wanting to show him she was not bothered by his presence, while desperately trying not to be bothered by the clean scent of him curling into her senses.

He circled her—the jungle cat back at work, sizing up his meal. ‘Indeed you do, querida.’ His voice rumbled through her. ‘You “scrub up” very well.’

‘I assume if we’re to go to dinner I am to wear something?’

He came to a standstill in front of her and smiled. ‘If you are not to drive all the men wild with lust and their women wild with jealousy, it would be wise, yes.’

‘Perish the thought,’ she said, trying to lighten the mood in the room, though her skin prickled under her robe, her temperature rising. She was immune to his hyperbole—for the most part it washed over her—but as much as she wished it were so, there was no way she was immune to the man. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes sought hers and held on, tempting her, teasing, promising things he couldn’t deliver—she should know better, but how did one gain immunity from the man one loved?

‘So, what am I to wear?’ she asked, impatient with the game. The sooner she got dressed, the sooner they could go to dinner—and the sooner she could find out what he knew about Jordan’s situation.

‘Through here,’ he said, leading the way through the vast suite to an elaborate bedroom dominated by a massive four-poster bed. She hesitated when she realised where he was leading her, but he turned and smiled. ‘If I were going to seduce you, querida, do you not think I would employ a more subtle method than leading you straight to my bed?’

Knowing Alejandro as she did, she had to concede he was right.

‘Your dress,’ he said, waving in the direction of a swathe of sapphire-blue silk lying on the bed. A pair of diamante-studded high heels sat below on the floor. ‘And I am assured these will be a perfect fit.’

She moved closer, letting her fingers slide over the silk as she took in the stunning halter design, the fabric gathered at one hip to fall gracefully to the floor. It was complexity designed to look simple. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said.

‘No more beautiful than you. I shall leave you to it.’

She had turned to thank him when another thought occurred to her. She shifted the dress, scanned the bedcover, but there was nothing more to find than a small clutch purse.

‘Alejandro?’

He paused, the door halfway closed behind him.

‘There’s no underwear.’

He nodded, the merest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. ‘I know.’

CHAPTER THREE

HE HAD to be joking! ‘But, Alejandro—’

‘Don’t you remember that time you surprised me? The time you shocked me with your brazenness?’

Never had she been happier to be adorned with the very best camera finish make-up as heat flooded her face. How could she have forgotten that night? Alejandro had been suddenly called away on business for two nights, and had only just made it back in time to collect her for a promised night at the opera. Ensconced in their private box, she’d leaned over and whispered in his ear just as the curtain was going up, and he’d spent the entire evening trying to insinuate himself closer to her, trying to discover if what she’d told him was true and driving her wild with his need when he had.

Before the opera was over he’d finally manoeuvred her into the shadowed recesses of the box and they’d come together in a heated rush. It had been wild and daring and reckless, and all of those things that had made their lovemaking so passionate and satisfying.

‘That was before,’ she whispered, trying to suppress the once familiar thrill of risky sex with a man made for it.

‘Indulge me,’ he said, so huskily and suggestively that it was all she could do to resist her insides melting, ‘for old times’ sake.’

After what they’d done before, how could she not be tempted? But giving in to him would hardly help her cause. She lifted her chin, determined to make her case plain. ‘It makes no difference. I won’t sleep with you.’

‘Have I asked you to?’

‘Well, maybe not in the last five minutes, no.’

‘Relax, querida,’ he said with a shrug. ‘You have told me you do not wish to become involved with me again. Why must you keep repeating it? Who are you trying to convince?’

‘Bastard,’ she muttered, with some satisfaction as he pulled the door closed behind him. She felt herself being sucked deeper and deeper into his dark plans, but that didn’t mean she had to go along with them. Immediately she crossed to the bank of wardrobes that lined one mirrored wall, sliding open the doors, searching for the clothes she’d been promised had been returned to the suite. She pulled open every drawer, searched every space, but there was nothing of hers, only Alejandro’s impeccable clothes gracing the wardrobe. She flopped down on the bed, her heart heavy in her chest.

She cursed him again—yet even as she did, even though she knew she should feel incensed by his actions, she couldn’t dispel the heavy coiling ache building inside her, the inexorable build-up of excitement that came with being with this man. He wanted to make love to her. He’d made that plain.

But damn him! She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting her. And if she needed a reason to be all the more determined to resist his advances, this was surely it.

Reluctantly she abandoned the voluminous wrap in which she’d once felt so exposed, and slipped the dress over her head, the fabric falling like a waterfall, sliding over skin in a silken kiss. She zipped it up, thankful that the halter offered some kind of support, and never before more grateful for lining. But still the fabric caressed her skin, sensitising it, and even as she strapped on the glittering sandals she could feel her breasts swelling, her nipples hardening at the sensual caress of silk against skin—and the knowledge that Alejandro would know exactly how little she was wearing under it.

She gathered up the clutch purse and opened it, surprised, but realising she shouldn’t be, that someone had transferred from her handbag the very items that she might need tonight. As she straightened and turned she caught her reflection in the wall of mirrors. Just as he’d asserted, the dress was a perfect fit, accentuating curves she’d thought she’d lost, its length lapping at the ground behind her like the waves lapping at the shore as she moved.

And the way the fabric draped across her hips nobody would know she wasn’t wearing a stitch underneath.

Nobody except Alejandro. But no way would she give him the satisfaction of knowing it bothered her.

She opened the door to join him, doing her best to ignore the feel of a lover’s caress on her skin as she moved, and plastering a supremely confident look on her face she had no right to claim.

He stood with his back to her, pouring champagne into two gold crystal champagne flutes. Reflected in the mirrored back of the sideboard she could see his look of concentration, his expression and every part of his bearing showing his aristocratic upbringing. Leah’s feet came to a halt, the madness of her situation defying understanding. For even after she’d had the best in beauty treatments, was now wearing haute couture

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