Champagne Summer: At the Argentinean Billionaire's Bidding / Powerful Italian, Penniless Housekeeper

‘Oh, you won’t? That’s good news.’

His voice was soft, hypnotising. Unwillingly, she felt herself turning back to face him. Unsmiling, he was looking at her steadily as he took hold of the bottom of his dark cashmere jumper and pulled it over his head. Tamsin’s heart-rate doubled instantly and her mouth went dry.

‘Why?’ It came out as a hoarse croak. The pressurised air seemed to be filled with the sound of her throbbing heart.

His mocking smile was like icy water in her face.

‘Because I assume that means you won’t mind me having the bed.’ He held open the door for her. ‘Don’t work too hard.’

The sky was pale pink by the time Tamsin set aside her laptop and rubbed her hands wearily across her face. Her eyes felt gritty and her head and neck ached with exhaustion, but she had a good basis for four different designs to show Alejandro and the board of Los Pumas. Letting her head fall back against the seat, she closed her stinging eyes and allowed herself a moment of triumph as she took a couple of deep breaths in, savouring the smell of fresh coffee that was coming from Alberto’s galley kitchen, and the faint, skin-tingling scent of lime that was coming from …

Her eyes flew open. Alejandro was standing over her, smiling wryly. His hair was slicked back and damp from the shower, and in the golden morning sunlight he looked like something from an advert for men’s expensive grooming products—relaxed, tanned, fresh, and gut-wrenchingly gorgeous.

‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘I take it you slept well?’

Tamsin sat bolt upright and pushed her hair back from her face. ‘No, I didn’t, I—’ she spluttered in protest. ‘I wasn’t asleep. I’ve been working! That was just—’

‘Another power nap?’ he said, with mocking gravity. ‘Of course. Anyway, you’ll be pleased to know that we’ll be landing in a few minutes.’

She would have liked nothing more than a shower and a change of clothes, but there was no time, so had to content herself with brushing her teeth and splashing her face with water in the tiny but opulent shower room, emerging just in time to fasten her seatbelt as the plane came in to land.

It touched down with a bump and came to a standstill on the tarmac. Tamsin felt desperately impatient to be out of the confined space, and she watched as the ground crew placed the steps alongside. Alejandro didn’t seem to be in any hurry, hardly glancing up from his coffee as the door was thrown open.

Tamsin gave a small gasp.

Two uniformed men appeared at the top of the steps and came into the body of the plane. In the sunlight from the open door, she caught the dull gleam of guns at their belts as they spoke in low, rapid Spanish to Alberto.

‘Alejandro!’ she croaked, instinctively moving towards him and reaching out to touch his arm. Her heart was hammering and her skin felt suddenly clammy. There seemed to be an iron band around her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Beside her Alejandro felt very strong and very safe. ‘Alejandro—look.’

‘Hmm? Is something wrong?’

‘They have guns.’

Slowly Alejandro raised his head. His expression of total impassivity didn’t flicker as he looked across at the men, but surreptitiously he reached to unfasten his seatbelt.

‘Don’t make any sudden moves, and do exactly as I say,’ he said very quietly.

Swallowing hard, Tamsin nodded, desperately trying to resist the urge to throw herself into the safety of his arms. He leaned closer to her to whisper into her ear, and she closed her eyes, focusing on his voice, knowing absolutely that if anyone could protect her, it would be him.

‘You can start by getting out your passport,’ he breathed.

Her eyes flew open, and her gasp of fury and outrage was lost as the two uniformed men spotted Alejandro and came forward with jovial cries of welcome, uttered in exuberant Spanish. While they greeted each other in a flurry of handshaking and back-slapping, Tamsin gritted her teeth and waited for the burning in her cheeks to subside as it dawned on her that these were customs officials.

This was no ordinary plane, and Alejandro D’Arienzo was clearly no ordinary passenger here. There was no queuing to get through customs for him. Here the mountain came to Mohammed.

As Alejandro spoke to the men in rapid Spanish, Tamsin listened in fascination to the rise and fall of his low, musical voice. This was the language he had been born to speak, she thought distractedly. It was like suddenly seeing a beautiful piece of art in its proper setting. He had always spoken perfect English, so that anyone hearing him would never guess that he had neither heard nor uttered a word of the language for the first five years of his life, but there was a slight stiffness in his speech. A formality that contributed to his aura of distance.

Not so now when he spoke Spanish. He came alive. His voice flowed across her like a caress. A promise. An invitation. She felt her stomach tighten and heat spread downwards through her as her imagination supplied fanciful meaning to the delicious-sounding words she couldn’t understand.

And then suddenly she realised that they were all looking at her, and that one of the men, the swarthy, bearded one, was coming towards her. She stiffened, throwing back her head and looking questioningly at Alejandro as the man gave her a courteous nod of his head and made a gesture she didn’t understand.

‘What do they want?’ she said warily.

‘Relax. It’s just a formality. They’re from customs. They just want to give you a quick search.’

Tamsin felt her eyes widen in shock and fear as the bearded man advanced on her, and she found herself automatically moving towards Alejandro. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ she hissed. ‘What do I have to do?’

‘This.’

He stood in front of her and lifted her arms. Then, keeping his face perfectly still, his hands came to rest lightly on her waist and he murmured, ‘Good. Now, stand with your legs apart.’

A wave of liquid heat crashed through her. She looked up to find his eyes on hers, filled with smouldering amusement. The bearded customs official moved round so that he was standing behind her, and began skimming his hands over her.

His touch was completely professional, totally impersonal, but pinned beneath Alejandro’s shimmering, golden gaze Tamsin felt like she was naked. She kept her chin held high, biting her lip to stop her breath from escaping her in ragged gasps of fury and humiliation as Alejandro looked at her, and kept on looking.

‘Is this really necessary?’ she said through clenched teeth, aware that nerves had made her voice take on a cut-glass haughtiness that was wholly unnatural. ‘I’m hardly a drug-smuggling criminal.’

Alejandro’s eyes darkened to the colour of rich honey, and she watched as his mouth curved into a smile of pure, mocking pleasure at her discomfiture as the customs officer’s hands moved down her body, lightly touching her ribs beneath her breasts, grazing her waist, her hips. ‘Unfortunately, they don’t know that. Your title means nothing here, Lady Calthorpe. Nothing good, anyway,’ he drawled, the husky gentleness of his tone belying the cruelty of his words. Tamsin’s insides melted as her eyes blazed with defiance.

The customs man’s hands were moving upwards again, lightly patting the outsides of her legs, her hips, her bottom …

He stopped, and said something in Spanish. Alejandro gave a curt nod.

‘He’d like you to empty your back pockets, please.’

Oh, God. No.

Tamsin felt the blood rush to her face in a shaming tide of crimson as panic gripped her by the throat and squeezed. ‘What? I’ve got nothing—why should I?’

Alejandro’s voice was like velvet now. ‘Your pockets.’

Setting her chin and lifting her head, Tamsin moved her hand to the back pocket of her jeans. Alejandro watched her with the intensity of a lion watching a deer, his eyes glittering with an emotion Tamsin couldn’t and didn’t want to interpret.

At that moment she didn’t want to do anything except vanish in a puff of smoke. Or be kidnapped by aliens.

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