Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

The knock on her sitting room door startled her. Glancing down at her pyjama-clad figure, Dominique reached for the robe at the end of the magnificent bed and quickly put it on. Thinking it might be her daughter’s doting new grandmother, come to wish her grandchild good morning, she scooped the half-dressed baby up in her arms and hurried out to see if she was right.

But it was not Consuela Cordova who was waiting. It was her ebony-eyed, broad-shouldered and handsome nephew, dressed in crisp white shirt and jeans and looking unexpectedly and disturbingly more relaxed than Dominique had ever seen him.

‘Buenos días!’ He smiled, and his teeth were very white against his beautiful bronzed skin.

‘Good morning,’ she answered, a distinct husky catch in her voice.

‘My mother and my aunt have already breakfasted, but I have been waiting for you and Matilde,’ he explained.

Then, before Dominique could respond, he reached out his arms for the baby, who was busily chewing on her soggy drool-covered thumb as her mother held her.

Her daughter was completely at ease and smiling as she handed her over. Was there any female who wouldn’t be similarly delighted to find Cristiano Cordova on her doorstep? Dominique wondered, a rogue shiver of pleasure rippling through her.

‘Buenos días to you too, my beautiful little angel! Did you sleep well? Did you? We must have a little chat about all the sweet dreams you must have had!’

‘You shouldn’t have waited for us,’ Dominique told him, flustered, as he swept past her into the room, murmuring baby talk to a clearly entranced Matilde.

‘I wanted to.’ Glancing away from the baby for a moment, fixing his attention on Dominique instead, he shrugged and then smiled again. ‘Now, go and get yourself ready and I will wait here with Matilde.’

‘I need to finish putting on her dress.’

‘Give it to me and I will do it.’

His tone clearly brooked no argument, and with her legs stupidly trembling Dominique went and fetched the dress and brought it back to him.

‘Now go! We will be perfectly all right here until you return—won’t we, Matilde?’

There was something utterly sexy and compelling about a man who could be relied upon to take care of a baby, Dominique thought as she hurriedly showered and dressed. Then, guiltily catching herself, she remembered her vow not to get too emotionally attached to Cristiano unless she wanted to invite a whole mountain of trouble to come crashing down on her!

‘Concentrate!’ she exclaimed out loud.

Pushing her fingers irritably through her newly washed and dried hair, she quickly plaited it, then nervously surveyed the very spartan selection of clothing she’d brought that now hung in the huge antique wardrobe. Cristiano had said something about taking her to lunch. Dominique hoped it would be somewhere fairly casual rather than upmarket, because she didn’t even possess an item of clothing that was what you could call dressy.

It occurred to her that she might be expected to wear something sombre, in deference to Ramón’s death. The idea was too depressing to be contemplated—and surely Cristiano would have mentioned it if that were the case?

Telling herself not to get too hung up about clothes, she picked out a fairly demure knee-length dress with a colourful floral design and a band of blue ribbon that went around the ribcage, underneath her breasts. If the day were as warm as yesterday, then it would surely fit the bill? She could already feel the heat through the opened patio doors, and she paused to savour its sultry kiss as the evocative perfume of the new morning filled her senses. The house was on a hillside, not too far from a mountain range, and consequently the air was quite intoxicating.

‘I’m ready. Sorry if I kept you waiting.’

Cristiano’s heart slammed hard against his ribcage as Dominique walked back into the sitting room. He already knew she had a good figure, but in the pretty summer dress she was wearing he discovered it was actually quite sensational. Her legs were long and shapely, and thankfully not too thin. She had slender, elegant calves, and a tiny waist, and Cristiano realised that her shape was definitely more hourglass than straight up and down. Her dress showcased her attributes perfectly, and the scooped neckline of the bodice allowed a glimpse of cleavage that was simply … arresting.

Suddenly becoming aware that he had still not said anything but was just staring—like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher—he pushed to his feet from the couch with Matilde in his arms, briefly inclining his head.

‘Very nice. That is a very charming dress you are wearing, Dominique. It will not do a lot to help my blood pressure today, but still … I definitely appreciate it.’

He knew the look he gave Dominique to accompany his words was provocative, but Cristiano could not help himself. Waking up this morning with the memory of those sweet lips of hers pliant, warm and sexy beneath his, and now seeing her in that sultry little dress was doing nothing less than adding fuel to the fire that was already simmering inside him …

‘If you think it’s not suitable then I’ll change into something else.’

‘I did not say it was not suitable, and I do not want you to change. You have a beautiful figure, Dominique … You are young and lovely, and I do not expect you to dress like a nun!’

‘Your mother and your aunt won’t think I’m—’ Frowning, she still seemed unconvinced about the dress. ‘They won’t think I’m being disrespectful? Wearing something so colourful, I mean?’

‘Because Consuela is wearing the garb of mourning?’ Slowly Cristiano shook his head. ‘No. In years gone by it was customary for the widow or the mother of a man who had died to wear black for quite some time—even the rest of her life if she chose—but now it is up to the woman concerned, and clearly it does not apply to you, Dominique. Please … just relax. And now we should go down to breakfast. I am sure this little one is as hungry as I am!’

‘She’s had her bottle this morning, but I’ve also brought some baby cereal from home for her. I’ll just go and get it.’

‘I may have to hold your hand so that I do not lose you. It is very busy today because Christmas is so near.’

Before they went to lunch, Cristiano had decided to take Dominique to the gypsy market. The colourful stallholders sold their wares all over Spain, but in his opinion the market that was held in their own historic little town was one of the best. Smiling at Dominique as people bustled around them, eagerly examining the goods on sale—from clothing to jewellery, ceramics to shoes—he saw that his companion was completely transfixed by it all. And holding her hand was not exactly something he found difficult, Cristiano thought ironically.

Every time he glanced her way, and her clear blue eyes met his, he had to practically fight off the almost overpowering need to touch her. Not wanting to delve into the reason for this impulse too closely, he decided to simply enjoy the day and take the opportunity of seeing the places that were so familiar to him through Dominique’s captivated eyes.

‘I’ll be all right,’ she answered him, her gaze almost deliberately avoiding his. ‘I’ll make sure I stay close. Oh, look! They’re selling Christmas trees!’

Gravitating to a large area where the most traditional Christmas decoration of all was displayed, in almost unbelievable abundance, Dominique stared wistfully at the trees for sale.

‘Will you have a Christmas tree?’ she asked.

‘Of course. In fact I know that we have one being delivered to the house the day after tomorrow. Elena and my aunt usually decorate it together. They will also be putting out the belén—remember I told you about that?’

‘The nativity scene? Yes … I remember.’

‘And tomorrow night the Christmas lights will be turned on in all the towns and cities across the country. There will also be parades and processions, and the churches will be filled with people.’

‘Do you think your family might let me join in when they decorate the tree?’

Dominique gazed at Cristiano with all the heartfelt yearning of a child long denied such a magical privilege, and he thought about the cold comfort her mother offered at Christmas and was disturbed by how angry he felt.

‘We will all do it together,’ he promised, his glance settling intently on her face and this time not allowing her to easily avoid it. ‘Even Matilde must be included. I know my aunt will insist on it!’

‘She seems to really love Tilly already.’

‘She has loved her since the moment she learned of her existence! Her grandchild being here has made the world of difference to her. Instead of dreading the future, she now wants to live to a very old age so that she can see Matilde grow up to be a woman with a family of her own!’

‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’ Cristiano’s dark brows drew together in puzzlement.

‘For bringing me to Spain and letting me be a part of all this …’ Gesturing at the busy, colourful market around her, Dominique smiled, shy and tentative.

‘You are most welcome.’ He bowed his head towards her in a formal manner almost from a bygone age, and was silently delighted when her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates in response.

From time to time—inevitably, perhaps—Cristiano spied a face that he knew in the crowd, and immediately engaged in conversation. Inevitably too a curious gaze would go to Dominique, and he would have to introduce her.

Seeing how it made her uncomfortable to receive their condolences about Ramón, he made the decision to cut short their visit and leave for the hilltop restaurant where they were lunching instead. But as they prepared to leave the bustling market behind he spied the most exquisite sapphire-blue shawl on a stall displaying many beautiful silks and scarves—it was almost the same vivid hue as Dominique’s eyes.

Steering the surprised young woman beside him towards it, he nodded at the plump grey-haired holder whose stall it was, and whose own generous shoulders were covered in a bright scarlet version. Gesturing towards the blue silk, Cristiano asked her how much it was and then bartered her down to a lesser, more reasonable figure, as was the custom. When the item had been wrapped and paid for, he drew Dominique to one side and gave it to her.

‘It matches your eyes,’ he told her, his voice lowering. ‘And it will be perfect to wear later on, when the sun goes down and the evening gets cooler.’

As she accepted the gift he placed into her hands, he was touched to see her lips tremble ever so slightly as she received it.

‘It’s—it’s too kind of you, and it’s absolutely beautiful! Thank you, Cristiano.’

The way she said his name, in her reserved English accent, made his insides flood with warmth. He liked it. The trouble was he thought perhaps he liked it a little too much, and that immediately alerted him to the fact that he was not keeping his guard up against her charms as strictly as he should be.

Grimly, Cristiano made himself remember what had happened to Martina and their baby, and as ice flowed into his blood instead of heat he found his ardour for the pretty young woman beside him thankfully ebb …

CHAPTER EIGHT

AT THE restaurant they sat outside, like many other diners, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the stunning views of the mountains in the distance. Viewed from a stranger’s perspective, Dominique was sure she blended in perfectly with everybody else … a tourist, perhaps, having a relaxing lunch with a handsome friend, husband … or lover … She flinched at that last too disturbing possibility. Yes, outside she might appear to be calm and at ease, but inside … inside she was in utter turmoil.

The gift of the stunning sapphire shawl from Cristiano had all but undone her. So had the comment he had made about her eyes. Coupled with his deeply stirring kiss last night, she barely knew what to do with the wildly impossible thoughts she was having.

‘You are not eating.’

Glancing up, she tumbled headlong into the compelling velvet darkness of Cristiano’s searching gaze. ‘I’m just trying to take it all in … the beautiful day … that breathtaking view of the mountains … the fact that I’m here in Spain and Matilde has been reunited with a grandmother who loves her. I might have to pinch myself to check that I’m not dreaming!’

‘So … you are happy?’ A corner of his beautiful mouth quirked upwards into his smooth-shaven cheek. ‘Happier at least than when you were in England on your own?’

‘I won’t pretend it wasn’t tough. Being a single mother is hard enough, but to be honest I think there’s a conspiracy of silence about raising children amongst those who have them! Because it’s viewed as such an everyday event it’s assumed it should be somehow easy, when actually it’s probably one of the hardest things a human being could ever do!’

‘But you do not regret having Matilde?’

‘Never! How could I? She’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me! I’d die if anything happened to her!’

‘Well …’ Raising his wine glass to his lips, Cristiano’s tanned brow creased thoughtfully. ‘One day you will meet a good man, get married, and she will have the father she deserves.’

Why did his comment not cheer her in the way he obviously meant it to? Dominique reflected dolefully.

Of course she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life raising her daughter on her own, but after Ramón’s desertion thinking about meeting someone else was the furthest thing from her mind. Yet when she was with Cristiano she sensed herself becoming more and more entranced by him. And seeing the way he was with his family—so caring and protective—and how he was so natural with a small infant like Matilde, didn’t help her vow to keep her distance for fear of future hurt—but something told her it was already too late for that anyway …

‘That will not be for a long time yet, I’m sure.’ Laying her fork down beside her plate, she touched her napkin to her lips, inexplicably feeling her heart race.

‘You are not the kind of woman who should be alone, Dominique.’

‘What makes you say that? I’ve been managing all these years on my own, more or less!’

‘But that does not mean you have to continue managing on your own.’

‘Let’s change the subject, shall we?’ It was hard not to react defensively when Cristiano was touching upon the one issue that never made her feel very good. ‘Relationships are unfortunately my Achilles’ Heel, and that’s just the way it is! No matter how hard I try, I’m just no good at them!’

‘Be careful that doesn’t become a self-fulfilling prophecy,’ Cristiano warned darkly, his expression without humour.

Why did Dominique get the curious feeling he was not just talking about her? What was his story? she mused silently. Why wasn’t an amazing man like him married, with at least half a dozen kids to dote on? He was clearly devoted to family, and appeared to genuinely love children. Yet there was something behind those fascinating eyes of his that Dominique had glimpsed once or twice that bothered her … something that suggested he had been badly wounded by someone too …

‘This is really very good,’ she said, digging her fork into the fragrant rice dish in front of her, knowing she was deliberately trying to deflect further discussion about a topic that caused her more grief than any other. ‘Though it’s hard to concentrate on food with the fantastic view.’

‘Yes,’ Cristiano agreed, his steady gaze lingering long on Dominique’s face. ‘The view is … rather compelling …’

Later that evening Dominique found herself in the library. She had mentioned to Luisa that she had forgotten to bring a book to read, and the older woman had kindly brought her to this magnificent repository of books of all kinds—many, as she had proudly told Dominique, in English. Her husband had been a great reader, and so was Cristiano, and he often brought books back with him from his travels. After Luisa had left her to go and help prepare the evening meal, and while Matilde was under the protective wing of her grandmother in the sitting room, it was really pleasant for Dominique to have some time in which to relax on her own for a little while.

As she scanned the generously filled bookshelves, she was inadvertently distracted by a group of photographs that hung on the wall. Her interest piqued, she found herself gravitating there to inspect them more closely. But before she could do so the library door opened behind her, and the man she seemed to spend an ever-increasing amount of time trying not to think about entered the room. He was dressed casually but smartly, in another elegant white shirt teamed with black trousers tailored to perfection, and his dark hair looked glossily damp in the light that shone from the hall behind him. Dominique realised he must have recently showered for dinner.

Without saying anything, he shut the door behind him and slowly came into the room to join her. She sucked in a breath. When he was just inches away from her, he spoke. ‘My mother told me I would find you in here. I do not mean to intrude upon your privacy, but I thought you might like some help navigating what we have. Tell me what kind of books you like and I will point you in the right direction.’

‘Oh … I like all kinds of books. Biographies, novels, history … Do you have anything about the region where you live?’

Dominique’s tongue briefly stole out to wet her suddenly dry lips. Cristiano was standing way too close … She could barely remember her own name, let alone expound on what kind of books she liked reading when he stood so near!

‘Sí.’ He shrugged those wide shoulders of his as though her answer amused him. ‘Of course. We have many books on that subject. We have a fascinating history, as I am sure you can tell just by glancing at the architecture around you. But you surprise me, Dominique. I would have thought you were more in the mood for a novel of some kind. A Christmas Carol, perhaps, bearing in mind the season we are in?’

‘Dickens is a wonderful writer, but honestly I don’t think I have the concentration for a novel right now. My mind is all over the place!’

‘Oh?’ His gaze was seemingly transfixed on her lips, and Dominique froze. ‘Why is that?’

‘Wh-why?’

‘I see that you are wearing the shawl I bought you,’ he commented.

Disturbingly, he moved closer. So close that she could see every minute detail of his arrestingly attractive face in sharp focus—from the coal-black sweep of his long lashes to the darker shadow of beard grazing his hard, lean jaw, with that Cordova dimple in the chin that Matilde had so charmingly inherited. She was startlingly aware too of the exotic tang of his aftershave which, combined with the seductive male heat he emanated, was putting her senses under extreme intoxicating duress. Dominique had no will to tear her gaze away for even a second.

‘I was right. It perfectly matches the colour of your eyes.’

‘It does? Well, I—’

She was stunned into silence when Cristiano placed his hands either side of her face, his hypnotic gaze holding hers with heart-pounding purpose, and Dominique knew what he intended long before the explosive touch of his lips on hers obliterated every coherent thought in her head.

This time it was no exploratory kiss—executed, perhaps, with the aim of helping her forget her worries for a while and relax … No. This was the full-blown, hungry kiss of a man caught in the grip of inflamed desire, and Dominique had never in her life been the recipient of such raw, passionate need.

His tongue thrust into her mouth with almost brutal command, and a heat started to burn inside her that made her shake and fear for her very sanity. Her hands reached out to steady herself against Cristiano, her fingers biting into the iron-hard flesh of his waist as her own escalating need suddenly outran any whispered caution in her head to stop this now and be sensible. It was simply heavenly to be wanted and desired this much, and Dominique started to kiss Cristiano back just as feverishly and wantonly as he was kissing her, her heart open wide and her senses more intensely alive than they’d ever been before.

Ramón had kissed her with the clumsily selfish needs of an over-eager boy, but Cristiano was without doubt kissing her like a man. And when his hand cupped her breast and he moved his thumb devastatingly back and forth across the rigid velvet tip beneath her thin summer dress, Dominique’s hips felt as if they had melted right down to the bone. Her mouth slid away from his with a soft groan of pleasure as he ground his tight, lean hips against hers, the tender flesh of her cheekbone grazing against the harshness of his studded jaw. Impinging on her besieged senses was the shocking primal evidence of Cristiano’s need, and Dominique’s legs seemed to turn to liquid rubber that could not possibly sustain her upright position for long.

‘I will lock the door,’ Cristiano whispered against her ear, brushing his mouth briefly but devastatingly across her tender lobe.

Before she could absorb the earth-shattering meaning of such a statement he left her to do just that. With the touch of a button he dimmed the lights too, and Dominique stared at him as he returned, wondering how a man as beautiful and perfect as he could possibly want an unconfident and ordinary girl like her, when he could probably have any stunning woman he wanted.

‘Everyone is busy and will not miss us for a while,’ he told her, and before she had an inkling of what he intended Cristiano slid his arm around her waist and lifted her bodily up into his arms.

Her heart was racing so fast inside her chest that Dominique seriously feared for her ability to remain conscious. Finding herself gently lowered onto a sumptuous red velvet chaise-longue that was positioned by the unlit fireplace, she stared wide-eyed and nervous up into the riveting handsome face that gazed down at her.

‘I want to make love to you … I have been thinking about it all day,’ he told her. ‘In fact … the idea has been consuming me.’

Dominique reacted purely on instinct. Reaching up, she urged his face down towards hers. The time between kisses had been far too long, in her opinion, and she was unashamedly hungry for the taste of his lips again. He had a taste like no other man she’d ever known, and it was both intoxicating and addictive.

Her delightful blue shawl slid away from her shoulders, its delicate fringe brushing against the exposed flesh of her slender arms revealed by her dress. She heard the thud of Cristiano’s shoes as they hit the floor, and a little throb of shock pulsed through her. Just before he touched his achingly seductive mouth to hers Dominique sensed the pleasure she’d been longing for about to sweep her away—as easily as some flimsy raft on a compelling sea. ‘Please don’t regret this …’ she said softly. ‘That’s all I ask.’

For a moment his avid glance stole her soul. ‘Nunca … Never!’

His seductive reply was as fervent as Dominique had hoped it would be. Arms entwined around him, she felt Cristiano’s muscular weight press her down deep into the velvet fabric of the couch beneath her. The hard, masculine warmth of his body seemed to seep into her marrow, making everything inside her tense so hard with need that she felt she might snap in two.

Shifting his position slightly, he started to touch her intimately with his hands and his mouth … exploring, kneading, tasting … and Dominique could not contain the uncontrollable tremors that were the result of his devastating sensual attention.

‘You are so soft … so incredibly beautiful,’ he whispered against her ear as his hands—which had been moving back and forth across her pelvis—finally moved lower, dragging up the hem of her dress and, with destroying purpose, cupping her through the flimsy cotton of her panties.

Even as Dominique felt her breath catch, Cristiano inserted his finger into the heat and moisture that drenched her there. Pushing her dress up further, he let his hot mouth fall upon her aching breasts contained by the simple white cotton bra, his lips and tongue giving them equal attention as his fingers worked their irresistible magic between her thighs. Dominique felt herself drowning in the erotic pleasure that consumed her like hot, licking flame ripping through a tinder-dry forest.