A Convenient Marriage

Sabrina had heard of being stripped naked by a man’s eyes, but her husband was way ahead.

He was shamelessly making love to her with that slumberous dark gaze of his, heating her blood with a potent mixture of fire and pure masculine chemistry, making her skin prickle with the sensation of being physically touched in the most intimately erotic way. Inside her robe her nipples peaked, the intense aching throb bordering on pain. Moisture spread between the juncture of her thighs as her knees started to shake.

“You should go.” Finding her voice, she silently acknowledged it had no real conviction. How could it when she craved him like parched land needed rain?

“We never kissed when we exchanged vows.”

The heat they were engendering between them turned up the temperature in the room another notch.

“I would very much like to remedy that, Sabrina.”

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For several years Maggie Cox was a reluctant secretary who dreamed of becoming a published author. She can’t remember a time when she didn’t have her head in a book or wasn’t busy filling exercise books with stories. When she was ten years old, her favorite English teacher told her, “If you don’t become a writer I’ll eat my hat!” But it was only after marrying the love of her life that she finally became convinced she might be able to achieve her dream. Now a self-confessed champion of dreamers everywhere, she urges everyone with a dream to go for it and never give up. Also a busy full-time mom, who tries constantly not to be so busy, in what she laughingly calls her spare time she loves to watch good drama or romantic movies, and eat chocolate!

Maggie Cox

A CONVENIENT MARRIAGE

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

To Ruth and Graham—I feel so blessed to

know you both—and Jean, who loved to

read romance. I miss you still

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

‘FAT lot of good you did me!’ Disparagingly, Sabrina Kendricks glared at herself in the tailored burgundy suit she’d splashed a couple of hundred pounds she couldn’t afford on, and knew she’d have to be clean out of every piece of clothing she possessed before she could bring herself to ever wear it again. Dressing to impress had sadly failed to have the desired effect on Richard Weedy—the pompous, halitosis-afflicted excuse for a bank manager whom she had met less than an hour ago. Weedy of stature and weedy by nature as far as Sabrina’s assessment was concerned. Spineless, in fact.

‘You’re not a good risk, Miss Kendricks,’ he’d whined. Not a good risk? She’d run East-West Travel for fifteen years now, so what was he talking about? What did he want—a cast-iron guarantee? Business was all about taking risks, surely? Good job she didn’t have a cat because right now she’d kick it.

Instead, she padded into the kitchen in her stockinged feet and peered hopefully into what she already knew was an empty fridge. Empty because she hadn’t had time to shop, and because food seemed to be low down on her list of priorities when she was in dire need of some proper investment to bring her small company in line with twenty-first-century technology. The mere thought of the task that lay ahead haunted her into the early hours. She wasn’t going to let the business she’d worked so hard to establish get swallowed up by the big boys who were currently monopolising the travel industry.

Thinking back on her recent interview, she wondered if she’d come across as too hopeful or just simply desperate? She made a face at the bereft shelves, slammed the door shut and went across to the sink to pour herself a glass of water instead. She thought she’d pitched it just right, but maybe her smile had been too forced? Maybe the way she’d pinned back her hair had been too severe? Maybe Moroccan-red lipstick had come across as somehow intimidating? And maybe Richard Weedy just had a thing about pushy career-woman types, as her mother referred to women who didn’t permanently wander round the house with a pinny on and a duster in their hands.

Thinking about her mother gave Sabrina indigestion and made her realise that not a morsel of food had passed her lips since six-thirty yesterday evening. It was now just after eleven-thirty in the morning and she was beginning to feel quite nauseous. Maybe it was time to change her bank? Could she do that? One thing was certain, no pinch-faced, patronising, woman-resenting bank manager was going to stop her from making East-West Travel the unalloyed success she knew it could be. She’d sell every pair of shoes she owned and go barefoot before she let that happen.

‘Don’t go, Uncle Javier! Please don’t go!’ The slender eleven-year-old with the liquid brown eyes and plaited black hair held on tight to her tall, broad-shouldered uncle, her tenacious grip surprisingly powerful for a child so slight, the plea in her voice and the pain in her expression cutting Javier’s heart in two. Above the child’s head, his own dark gaze sought out her father, and, looking back at him, Michael Calder’s face was nothing less than haunted.

‘Hush, Angelina, hush, my angel,’ Javier crooned against his niece’s hair. ‘I was only going to make a phone call to cancel my meeting. I will stay with you as long as you want me to, if that is all right with your father?’

Michael’s silent nod was curt but hugely relieved. Both father and daughter were facing a situation that was possibly going to tear the little family apart, and Javier shared doubly in their turmoil because Angelina’s mother had been his beloved sister Dorothea, who’d died eight years ago when Angelina was only three. Now the child was facing the possible death of her father. How cruel was that? Just yesterday Michael Calder had been diagnosed with a particularly devastating form of cancer and his prognosis was not good. Tomorrow he would go into hospital for some radical treatment and only God knew how long he would be staying in…maybe he would never come out again. Javier bit back the black thought and concentrated on the weeping child instead. Around her, his embrace tightened. Michael should not have to bear this burden alone. Javier vowed he would do everything in his power to ease their suffering. He would try and bring some stability to Angelina’s young life when all around her were shifting sands, as well as being a good friend and support to her father. But first he had to find a way of staying in the UK permanently because as an Argentine national he would need permission to reside.

‘I’ll get Rosie to make you up a bed.’ Unable to bear the sight of his daughter’s distress any longer, Michael went in search of their friendly Welsh nanny, clearly thankful for the distraction.

‘Let us go and find a video to watch together, hmm?’ Holding his niece slightly apart so that he could furnish her with a smile, Javier wiped her tears away then took her gently by the hand into the family’s sumptuously furnished living-room.

He woke up to rain. It was pelting his bedroom window with a vengeance, like a hundred small boys firing missiles from catapults. But it wasn’t the sight of grey skies and rain that made Javier’s heart feel heavy. Angelina had cried herself to sleep. At eleven years of age, she already knew what losing a parent meant. Her uncle had stayed with her long into the night just listening to her breathing, praying with everything he had in him for God to send her peaceful dreams—dreams that weren’t possessed with darkly terrifying images of grief and loss. He had left Michael in the living-room nursing a thick glass of single malt whisky—too mentally shattered himself to suggest his brother-in-law should lay off the drink, considering the circumstances. They couldn’t go on like this. Something was going to break if they didn’t find a solution soon…

The smooth tanned lines on his forehead puckering into a scowl, Javier got swiftly out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Once he’d showered and dressed, he would have a cup of Rosie’s exquisitely made coffee, then go and rouse Michael with a cup. The man would have one hell of a hangover, that was certain, but then wasn’t he entitled? How would he feel if he were facing such a bleak future? Scowling again as the family’s problems seemed to mount in his head, Javier turned the shower dial to hot then quickly stripped off his clothes.

‘OK, so he turned you down, it’s not the end of the world.’

Only her sister could come out with such a throwaway remark in the midst of her sibling’s disappointment and worry, Sabrina reflected in exasperation as she got down on her knees to play ‘peek-a-boo’ with the baby. Sometimes she wondered if motherhood had somehow blunted Ellie’s perception of how it really was out there in the working world. Once a high-flyer herself, now mother to three lively children under the age of five, Ellie seemed to wrap every problem in a soft-focus cloud of pink, and her adoring husband Phil did nothing to disillusion her.

‘Maybe not to you.’ Sabrina tickled baby Tallulah under the chin then reached for a baby-wipe to clean the drool off her fingers. ‘But it’s my livelihood we’re talking about here. If I don’t get the investment I need then I’m never going to be able to bring the business up-to-date. It will just be a matter of time before we have to fold. And what about Jill and Robbie? They’ll be unemployed. Great thanks that would be after all their years of service!’

Ellie stopped her ritual picking up after the two toddlers to shake her head at Sabrina.

‘I can’t see the fascination myself. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, Sabrina. Haven’t you had enough of the treadmill after fifteen years? You’re what now, thirty-seven? Soon you’ll be too old to have children, then what? Cold comfort your business is going to be when you have nothing but an empty flat to come home to.’

‘You’re beginning to sound just like Mum.’ Picking up Tallulah, Sabrina nuzzled her affectionately behind her ear, the scent of talcum powder and six-month-old baby giving her heart an unexpected squeeze.

‘She only wants you to be happy.’

‘I am happy, for God’s sake! Why is it both of you can’t see that I’m doing what I want to do? I’m not like you two; I’m just not the maternal type.’

‘No?’ Grinning widely, Ellie absorbed the picture of her pretty older sister cuddling baby Tallulah to her supple, willowy frame as if she’d been born to the task.

‘Anyway,’ Sabrina retorted defiantly, ‘I haven’t the hips for it.’

‘Oh, no? I’ve seen the looks you get from men when you walk down the street, and believe me—you go in and out in all the right places. What I can’t quite believe is that you haven’t had a date for at least a year now, maybe more. Are all the men you come into contact with blind, as well as dead from the waist down?’

‘I don’t have time to date. The business takes up practically every waking hour.’

‘Now, that’s a sad indictment of a young woman’s life.’ Wagging her finger, Ellie scooped up a handful of soft toys that littered the carpet and dropped them into the baby’s playpen. ‘Forget the business for a while. Get yourself a date and go out and have some fun. That’s my answer to your present dilemma.’

‘Is that the time?’ Grimacing at her wrist-watch, Sabrina got hastily to her feet, plonked the baby back into her mother’s arms, paused to kiss each of the toddlers sitting in front of the TV, and headed for the front door. ‘I’ll ring you later. Sorry I’ve got to dash but I must get back to relieve Jill for lunch. The woman’s been in since eight and hasn’t had a bite yet.’

‘Well, I’m giving you my advice whether you want it or not!’ Ellie called after her as she hurried towards the compact gun-metal-grey car parked in the drive.

‘Find yourself a date and soon!’

With her sister’s undoubtedly well-meant advice ringing in her ears, Sabrina reversed out of the drive into a wide avenue and headed towards town. ‘Get myself a date,’ she muttered irritably as she fiddled with the radio dial. ‘Like I don’t have enough problems already without adding a man to the mix!’

Wrestling with her umbrella as well as her now soggy packet of sandwiches and her shoulder bag, Sabrina didn’t see the man standing in front of East-West Travel’s shopfront peering in until she was almost on top of him. As a strong arm reached out to steady her, she was engulfed in the lingering fragrance of expensive male cologne and a surprising heat that seemed to tinglingly transmit itself right through her body from the brief but firm exchange of contact.

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there—I don’t normally try to mow people down with my umbrella.’ When she’d folded it, transferred her damp packet of sandwiches to her shoulder bag and brushed her brown hair from her eyes, Sabrina gave the man her full attention. Something inside did a funny little flip when she did. He was gorgeous. That was the only adjective that came to mind. Tall and Latin-looking with jet-black hair and eyes to match. Eyes that were so dark they glimmered back at her like perfect onyx jewels. When he didn’t reply she felt suddenly foolish—foolish and unprepared…but unprepared for what? To cover her embarrassment she gushed, ‘If you’re looking for somewhere warm at this time of year, Tenerife is always a good bet. I can put you in touch with some wonderful little family-run hotels, or if you wanted something a little more upmarket I could personally recommend some stunning places.’

When he still didn’t reply, Sabrina had a couple of bad moments of sheer panic. Perhaps he didn’t speak English? Perhaps he was looking at her wondering what this mad woman with the dripping hair and soggy sandwiches was blathering on about?

‘Oh, well.’ Thinking she’d better make a hasty retreat before she made a complete twit of herself, she shrugged good-naturedly, delivered one of her sunniest smiles and pushed at the shop door to go inside.

‘Wait.’

Funny how one softly enunciated little word could convey such innate command. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I would very much like to come inside and discuss a vacation with you.’

‘Well, great. Why don’t you follow me inside out of this rain?’

Jill had her coat on and her umbrella at the ready behind her desk. The blonde’s keen gaze positively lightened when she saw the dazzling specimen of manhood who walked in behind her boss. ‘Hi. It’s all been very quiet since you’ve been gone. I sent Rob out to lunch fifteen minutes ago—was that OK?’

‘Sure, Jill. You go out and get something yourself now. I’ll be fine here.’

‘OK. You be good, now.’ With a brief conspiratorial wink, the blonde swept past them both and the doorbell jangled behind her.

‘Take a seat. I’ll just get rid of my coat.’ Silently appreciative of the fug of warmth that enveloped her after the cold outside, Sabrina smiled again at the man as she made to dash into the little office at the end of the room. Javier hesitated, his astute business sense automatically kicking in as he scanned the small but neatly presented room with its three old-fashioned desks planted side by side, with an equally old-fashioned computer terminal positioned on top of each one. What was that word the English liked to use when describing something traditional rather than modern? ‘Quaint’, he thought it was. Yes, quaint. He smiled back at the woman who’d careened into him with her umbrella and registered that her eyes were startlingly blue and guileless…almost untainted by life.

‘You must eat your lunch as we talk,’ he instructed, and the guileless blue eyes shone back at him in surprise.

Sabrina could hardly believe a stranger was capable of such consideration. A little burst of warmth spread inside her. ‘I’ll make some coffee,’ she replied. ‘Would you like some?’

‘Black—no sugar. Thank you.’ Javier positioned his tall frame in a padded chair nearest to the office. Silently he watched her through the open door, marking her hurried movements. He saw her remove her coat and hang it on an old wooden coat-tree, saw her hand pat the back of her golden-brown hair encased in its slightly awry knot and registered that she was very pleasingly built beneath the rather plain blue suit and white blouse. Even several feet away from her, her light floral perfume lingered, insinuating its way past his defences and making him feel surprisingly at ease. Astounding when his heart and head were in such turmoil over Angelina and her father. Michael had insisted the child attend school today and at three-thirty Rosie would pick her up and take her to a friend’s for tea. ‘Best keep everything as normal as possible,’ Michael had instructed him. Javier intended to be back at the house to greet her when she came back from her friend’s—by which time he would surely have had news of the outcome of his brother-in-law’s treatment?

‘There you are.’ Registering the slight rattle of the cup in the saucer as she placed the coffee carefully down in front of him, Sabrina noted there were no rings on his fingers and his hands were very slender and very brown. And that accent of his—she couldn’t quite place it; South American perhaps, but which country?

Sliding behind her desk, she drew her own mug of steaming coffee towards her. Self-consciously unwrapping her sandwiches, she gathered up the cling film into a little ball and jettisoned it into a nearby bin.

‘I hope you don’t mind?’ she checked again before taking a ladylike bite of her chicken sandwich. ‘I didn’t actually have any breakfast and to tell you the truth I’m starving!’

‘Go ahead. One cannot properly conduct business on an empty stomach.’ His lips parted in a brief smile. His teeth were very white against his tan, and movie-star perfect. For the first time she noticed he had a dimple in his chin…a very sexy little dimple. Somehow her morsel of food had trouble getting past her throat.

‘So…any ideas where you’d like to go?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘On holiday? I presume you’re thinking of taking a break somewhere?’

Javier shrugged his broad shoulders and wondered what the perfectly English Miss—he squinted at the name on the small gold badge on her lapel—Sabrina Kendricks would think if she knew he had travelled the globe more times than she’d find it easy to believe. As a man who’d built up a successful one-stop travel business on the internet, he spent a large majority of his life travelling. No, he didn’t need a holiday. What he needed right now was a little more complicated than that…

‘Are you usually this quiet?’ Ignoring her question, Javier posed another one. As he did so he glanced curiously around him, noting the colourful posters of varying exotic locations on the walls behind her, the two tall potted plants that resembled miniature palm trees by the door, the once rich maroon carpet beneath his feet that was more than just a little faded. The whole business had an air of regal deterioration about it. Rubbing his hand round the back of his neck, Javier sighed. Her computer system looked badly out of date, too. How on earth were they making a living?

Sabrina took a hasty sip of coffee, nearly scalding her mouth in the process. ‘It’s raining,’ she explained as if he should understand the unspoken meaning without her elucidating further.

‘That puts people off?’ His lips quirked wryly. The woman was blushing and it intrigued him as to why.

‘It’s a slow time of the year.’ Shrugging, she glanced quickly away from his too knowing black eyes.

‘I should have thought many people would be booking vacations leading up to Christmas. The prospect of getting away after such a hectic time would appeal to most, no?’

He said it as if he knew what he was talking about and Sabrina felt herself grow prickly and defensive. She could hardly tell him that the bigger travel chains that dominated most high streets nowadays naturally took most of the business. But then they couldn’t offer the very personal, specialist, highly skilled service that Sabrina and her colleagues had perfected over fifteen years, could they? The chains didn’t have time to devote to planning sometimes elaborate itineraries for their wealthier, more established clients—not when they wanted to shift as many cheap package holidays as possible. If Sabrina wanted to compete, it looked as if she would have to go that way too.

‘It’s not always as quiet as this.’

‘I have offended you.’ Javier heard the slight quiver in her voice with genuine remorse, saw the wave of pink that shaded her cheeks.

‘No.’ Putting down her half-eaten sandwich, Sabrina patted her lips with her paper napkin. For some reason a picture of the loathsome Richard Weedy floated into her mind and she heard him say again that she wasn’t a good risk so he wouldn’t be recommending the loan. She’d walked out of the bank feeling as if she’d gone to him with a begging bowl. Ugh!

‘I’m just not having a very good day. Nothing to do with anyone else but my own sorry inability to rise above my disappointment.’

Inexplicably, Javier’s gaze went to her fingers. Her hands were pretty and small but minus a ring of any description. ‘Someone hurt your feelings…a man, perhaps?’

It took only a couple of seconds for his comment to click. ‘Not in any romantic sense, no.’ She was smiling now, her blue eyes shining with humour, and Javier realised that, with her high cheekbones and generous mouth, she was really quite exquisite. She’d be even more exquisite if she let that hair of hers down… Now, where had that thought come from?

‘Anyway. Back to business. If you don’t want a holiday, Mr—er—?’

‘D’Alessandro—Javier D’Alessandro.’

He said it so beautifully that Sabrina was instantly transported to another time and place; somewhere very different from chilly, dreary London, somewhere with a landscape of burnt sienna and hot sun, a place where conquistadores ruled the land, conjuring up pictures of glamour and adventure. A place where her current concerns and worries disappeared like magic beneath the hypnotic gaze of a dark-skinned, dark-eyed lover…

‘If you don’t want a holiday, Mr D’Alessandro, then what can I do for you?’ Unconsciously her tongue wetted the seam of her lips. Javier’s eyes seemed to grow darker still as he registered the fact.

‘I’d like to take you to dinner.’ How long had that little thought been going round in his head? Javier wiped his palms down the thighs of his expensive Savile Row suit. He concentrated for a few seconds on her name badge. ‘Can I call you in a few days, Sabrina? Right now I have some important business to take care of.’

‘Dinner?’ For a crazy moment she wondered if she’d heard him right. Good-looking strangers didn’t usually just walk in off the street and ask her for a date. Her shoulders stiffened slightly with suspicion.

‘Yes, dinner. What do you think?’

‘Not a good idea.’ Picking up her pen, she scanned the loose papers on her desk for something that needed her attention—anything that would distract her from the quiet scrutiny of those disturbing dark eyes. ‘I don’t date people I don’t know, Mr D’Alessandro.’