One Night: Latin Heat: Uncovering Her Nine Month Secret / One Night With The Enemy / One Night with Morelli

He gave me a sensual smile. “You’ll be my wife within the week.”

* * *

There are many different kinds of seduction.

There’s the traditional kind, with flowers, chocolates, dinner by candlelight. That’s the way Alejandro had seduced me last summer. He called the Kensington mansion, asked for me, invited me to dinner. He showed up at the door dressed in a tux, his arms full of roses—to Claudie’s rage—and greeted me with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“You look beautiful,” he’d murmured, and took me to the best restaurant in London. He asked me questions, listened aptly and physically grew closer and closer, with the innocent touch of his hand, the casual brush of his body against mine. He held my hand across the dinner table in the candlelight, in full view of the other patrons, looking at me with deep soulful eyes, as if no other woman had ever existed. Afterward, he took me to a club. We danced, and he pulled me into his arms, against his hard, powerful body. Closer. Closer still, until my heart was in my throat and I started to feel dizzy. In the middle of the dance floor, he lowered his head and kissed me for the first time.

It was my first kiss, and as I closed my eyes I felt the whole world whirling around me. Around us.

When he finally pulled away, he whispered against my skin, “I want you.” I’d trembled, my heart beating violently, like a deer in a wolf’s jaws. He’d looked down at me and smiled. Then took me back to his rooftop terrace suite at the Dorchester Hotel.

There had been no question of resistance. I was a virgin in the hands of a master. He’d had me from the moment he kissed me. From the moment he showed up at my door in a sleek tuxedo, with his arms full of roses, and told me he wanted me in his low, husky voice. He’d had me from the moment he’d seared me with the intensity of his full attention.

That was the traditional way of seduction. It had worked once, worked with utterly ruthless efficiency against my unprepared heart. But I knew the moves now—that is to say, I knew how they ended. With pleasure that was all too brief, and agony that was all too long.

But there are many different kinds of seduction.

Alejandro had decided we wouldn’t leave immediately for Madrid, but would spend one night in London, resting at his usual suite of rooms at the Dorchester. He told me it was because the baby and I both looked tired. I was immediately suspicious, but as we left the park, he did not try to kiss me. Even after we’d arrived at the luxurious hotel, he did not look deeply into my eyes and tell me I was the most beautiful woman on earth, or pull me out onto the rooftop terrace, overlooking Hyde Park and all the wide gray sky, to take me in his arms.

Instead, he just ordered us lunch via room service, then afterward, he smiled at me. “We need to go shopping.”

I frowned at him, suspecting a trick. “No, we don’t.”

“We do need a stroller,” he said innocently. “A pushcart. For the baby.”

I could hardly argue with that, since we’d left the umbrella stroller back in San Miguel. “Fine,” I grumbled. “A stroller. That’s it.”

“You’re very boring.”

“I’m broke.”

“I’m not.”

“Lucky you.”

“I can buy you things, you know.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Why?”

I set my jaw. “I’m afraid what they’d cost me.”

He just answered with an innocent smile, and had his driver take us to the best shops in Knightsbridge, Mayfair and Sloane Street. He bought the most expensive pushcart he could find for Miguel, then pushed it himself, leaving the bodyguards trailing behind us to hold only shopping bags full of clothes and toys for the baby.

“You said just a stroller!”

“Surely you wouldn’t begrudge me the chance to buy a few small items for my son?”

“No,” I sighed. But Alejandro kept pushing the boundaries. All the bodyguards who trailed us were soon weighed down with shopping bags.

“Now we must get you some clothes, as well,” Alejandro said, smiling as he caught me looking wistfully at the lovely, expensive dresses. I jumped, then blushed guiltily.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Alejandro replied firmly, “considering it was because of me that you lost your inheritance.”

“That wasn’t your fault...” I protested. He looked down at me with his big, dark, Spanish eyes.

“Please let me do this, querida. I must,” he said softly. “Such a small thing. You cannot deny me my desire.”

I shivered. That was exactly what I was afraid of. That if I couldn’t deny him this, I wouldn’t be able to deny him anything. And soon I’d be putty in his hands again, like a spaniel waiting for her master with slippers in her mouth.

I’d end up married to a man who didn’t love me. Who would ignore me. And I’d spend the rest of my life like a ghost, haunting his stupid castle.

Wordlessly, I shook my head. He sighed, looking sad.

I was proud of myself for sticking to my guns. But as we walked through the expensive shops, Alejandro saw me looking at a pretty dress a second too long. He gave one of his bodyguards a glance, and the man snatched it up in my size.

“What!” I exclaimed. “No. I don’t want that!”

“Too bad,” he said smugly. “I just bought it for you.”

Irritated, I tried to foil Alejandro’s plan by carefully not looking at any of the beautiful clothes, shoes or bags as we walked through the luxury department store and designer boutiques. But that didn’t work, either. He simply started picking things out for me, items far more expensive and flashy than I would have picked out for myself. Instead of the black leather quilted handbag I might have chosen, I found myself suddenly the owner of a handbag in crocodile skin with fourteen-karat-gold fittings and diamonds woven into the chain.

“I can’t wear that!” I protested. “I’d look a proper fool!”

He grinned. “If you don’t like me choosing for you, you have to tell me what you want.”

So I did. I had no choice.

“Dirty blackmailer,” I grumbled as I picked out a simple cotton sweater from Prada, but his smile only widened.

The salespeople, sensing blood in the water, left their previous customers to follow eagerly in our wake. The size of our entourage quickly exploded, with salespeople, bodyguards, Alejandro, me and our baby in a stroller so expensive that it, too, might as well have been made of rare leathers and solid gold. Other people turned their heads to watch as we went by, their eyes big as they whispered to each other beneath their hands.

“I feel conspicuous,” I complained to Alejandro.

“You deserve to be looked at,” he said. “You deserve everyone’s attention.”

I was relieved to return to his suite of rooms at the Dorchester, even though it was so fancy, the same suite Elizabeth Taylor had once lived in. I was happy to be alone with him.

And yet not happy.

It took a long time for the bodyguards to bring up all the packages. Even with help from the hotel staff.

“I didn’t realize we bought so much,” I said, blushing.

Alejandro gave a low laugh as he tipped the staff then turned back. “You hardly bought anything. I would have given you far more.” He looked down at me. Running his hand beneath my jaw, he said softly, “I want to give you more.”

We stood together, alone in the living room of the suite, and I held my breath. Praying he wouldn’t kiss me. Wishing desperately that he would.

But with a low laugh, he released me. “Are you hungry?”

After I fed Miguel and tucked him to bed in the second bedroom, we had an early dinner in the dining room, beneath a crystal chandelier, on an elegant table that would seat eight, with a view not just of London, but of the exact place where, last summer, he’d pressed me against the silver wallpaper and made love to me, hot and fast and fierce against the wall.

All through dinner, I tried not to look at that wall. Or think about the bed next door.

I told myself he wasn’t trying to seduce me. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe it was just my delusion, reading desire in his dark, hot glances. It had to be me. He wouldn’t actually be intending to...

Alejandro suddenly smiled at me. “You are tired. It has been a long day for you.”

“All that shopping,” I grumbled. He grinned, taking an innocent sip of his after-dinner coffee.

“I meant before that. Mexico. Claudie. Your sleepless night on the plane...”

“Oh.” I yawned, as if on cue. “I am a little tired.”

“So go take some time for yourself. Take a nap. A shower. Go to bed. I will take over.”

“Take over?”

“With Miguel.” As I blinked at him in confusion, he lifted a dark eyebrow and added mildly, “Surely you can trust me that far—as far as the next room? If there is any problem, I will wake you. But there won’t be. Go rest.”

I took a long, hot shower, and it was heaven. Putting on a soft new nightgown straight from the designer bag, I fell into the large bed, knowing that someone else was watching our child as I slept, and I wasn’t on call. That was the most deliciously luxurious thing of all.

When I woke, early-morning sunlight was streaking across the large bed, where I’d clearly slept alone. Looking at the clock, I saw to my shock I’d slept twelve hours straight—my best night’s sleep in a year. I stretched in bed, yawning, feeling fantastic. Feeling grateful. Alejandro...

Alejandro!

He couldn’t possibly have stayed up all night with the baby! He must have left. Jumping out of bed in panic, I flung open the bedroom door, terrified that Alejandro had spirited away our baby and left me behind.

But Alejandro was in the living room, walking our baby back and forth, singing a Spanish song in his low, deep voice, as Miguel’s eyes grew heavy. Then Alejandro saw me, and he gave me a brilliant smile, even though his eyes, too, looked tired.

“Buenos días, querida. Did you sleep?”

“Beautifully,” I said, running my hands through my hair, suddenly self-conscious of my nightgown, which in this bright morning light looked like a slinky silk negligee. I tried to casually cover the outline of my breasts with my arms. “And you?”

“Ah,” he said, smiling tenderly down at his son. “For us, it is still a work in progress. But by the time we are on the plane to Madrid, after breakfast, I think our little man will sleep. He’s worn himself out, haven’t you?”

I stared at the two of them together, the strong-shouldered Spaniard holding his tiny son so lovingly, with such infinite care and patience, though he’d clearly kept Alejandro up most of the night.

Miguel looked up with big eyes at his father. They had the same face, though one was smaller and chubby, the other larger and chiseled at the cheekbones and jaw. But I could not deny the look of love that glowed from Alejandro’s eyes as he looked into the face of his son.

I’d been wrong, I realized. Alejandro did know how to love.

He just didn’t know how to love me.

Turning back, Alejandro gave me a big grin, filled with joy and pride. Our eyes locked.

The smile slowly slid from his face. I felt his gaze from my head to my toes and everywhere in between. His soulful dark eyes seemed to last forever, like those starlit summer nights.

I looked at Alejandro in this moment, and I was suddenly afraid. Seeing him as a father, as a true partner in caring for the tiny person I loved so much, I trembled.

I could handle his gifts. I might even be able to handle the sensual awareness that electrified the air between us. I could keep my heart on ice. I could resist.

But this?

There are many different kinds of seduction. Some are of the body. Some are of the mind.

But others, the most powerful, are of the heart.

CHAPTER FOUR

I’M NOT GOING to lie. A private jet makes travel easier. Especially with a baby. We had a quick flight from London to Madrid. No standing in lines, no fighting for overhead space. And I felt much better than I had on the last flight. I was well slept, showered. My hair was brushed until it tumbled over my shoulders. I’d even put on a little mascara. Arriving in Madrid in my new soft pink blouse and form-fitting jeans, I felt almost pretty.

“Where’s your diamond handbag?” Alejandro teased as we left the jet, going down the steps to the tarmac of the private airport, followed by his men carrying our luggage. “Don’t you like it?”

I bit my lip. “Well...”

He put his hand on his heart, as if it had been stabbed with grief. “You don’t!”

“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “I’ll still use it. I was needing a new diaper bag.”

He gave a low laugh, then sobered, his dark eyes resting on mine as he said softly, “I’ll have to see if I can find some other gift to please you more.”

I shivered at his glance, then looked out the window of the SUV. He’s not trying to seduce me, I repeated silently to myself. He’s not. He’s just trying to lure me into a loveless marriage of convenience—don’t fall for it, don’t...

Madrid was beautiful, an elegant, formal city with its nineteenth-century architecture, spreading regally across the banks of the Manzanares River. All the gray clouds of San Miguel and London seemed a million miles away. Here, the August sky was bright blue, and the Spanish sun burning hot.

Alejandro’s driver took us to his penthouse apartment near the Prado, the bodyguards and luggage following in the car behind. We arrived at the flat, which took the entire top floor, and were answered at the door by a middle-aged woman who seemed far too young to be his grandmother. He quickly introduced her as his longtime housekeeper, the only paid staff at the penthouse, Mrs. Gutierrez, who lived on a floor below.

Alejandro walked us around the enormous apartment, with its stark contemporary furnishings and enormous windows overlooking the city. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” I said slowly, “but so cold. You can hardly tell anyone lives here.” Shivering, I cuddled my warm baby close. “You must not stay here much.”

He blinked. “More blunt honesty.”

“Was I rude?”

“I can take it.” He shifted his weight, then clawed back his thick, dark hair. I wondered what it would feel like to... No! I stopped the thought cold. Oblivious of my inner struggle, he continued with a sigh, “My company is headquartered here. I am in Madrid all the time.”

“Oh,” I said, looking at all the sharp edges of the furniture, all the glass and chrome. “Um. Well. It’s very—masculine.”

He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Perhaps it needs a woman’s touch.”

In my current frame of mind, I wondered if he was talking about more than his apartment. My cheeks went hot and I cleared my throat. “I’m surprised your grandmother isn’t here. She sounded so keen to meet her great-grandson.”

“You’ll meet her tomorrow. I have an event tonight in Madrid, and Abuela doesn’t like to leave her roses, or all the people who count on her at the castle.”

“The castle?”

“Rohares, near Seville. Where the Dukes of Alzacar have lived for four hundred years.”

“Cold and drafty,” I sighed.

“Exactamente.” He gave me a sideways glance, seeming to hide a smile. “I can hardly wait for you to see it.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled. “How many rooms?”

“I lose count,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was joking. But at least such a large building would create more space between us. Even this large penthouse felt too...close, when we were together. Every glance, every word, made me more attracted. It was dangerous.

As soon as his grandmother met the baby, I told myself firmly, I’d be out of this country and away from Alejandro. We’d come to some agreement over custody. Preferably one that involved Miguel living with me in Mexico.

Although it would be a shame to separate my son from a father who loved him, just because I was afraid of being hurt....

I pushed the thought away. “You said something about an event tonight?”

“A celebration—a ball, really. Hosted by my company. Starts in—” he glanced at his platinum watch and said calmly “—twenty minutes.”

Thank heavens! I wouldn’t have to spend the evening with him, trying desperately not to feel tempted! With real relief, I said, “Go and have a good time. We’ll be fine. I’ll tuck Miguel into bed and maybe read a book until...”

But he was already shaking his head. “Leave you alone with our son, giving you the opportunity to run away again? No.”

“Why do you think I’d run away?”

“Why would I think you wouldn’t?”

“You could post your bodyguards at the door,” I suggested.

“You’d charm them and escape.”

He thought I was charming? For an instant I felt flattered. Then I folded my arms. “You could just decide to trust me.”

“I will trust you.” He tilted his head, looking down at me with amusement. “As soon as you marry me.”

“Never going to happen, and believe me, after this momentary madness—or whatever it is—passes, you’ll thank me.”

“Fine,” he sighed, plunking down on the soft sofa in front of a wide-screen TV and a window with a view of the city. He reached for the remote control. “Shall we see if there are any good movies on tonight? Maybe order takeaway?”

I stared at him, my lips parted. “You can’t miss your own party.”

He shrugged. “Yes. It’s a pity. Especially since it was to celebrate my company’s upcoming IPO on the stock exchange. But I can miss it to watch a TV movie with you. No problem.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t miss something like that. You’re the host! If you don’t even bother showing up, what do you think it will do to your stock price?”

“It’s fine. Really.” He shrugged. “I don’t have a date to the ball anyway.”

“You honestly expect me to believe you don’t have a date—you?”

“You have to admit it’s kind of your fault.”

Now we were getting down to it.

“How is it my fault?” I said suspiciously.

Tilting his head, he looked at me from the sofa. “I did have a date for tonight.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “A beautiful Swedish swimsuit model, in fact. But when I called her yesterday and explained I wouldn’t be picking her up in my jet because I’d just discovered a former mistress had my baby and I had to spend the day buying you presents instead of flying to Stockholm to collect her, well—for some reason, Elsa wasn’t interested in flying coach to Madrid to be my date tonight.”

I hid a laugh, tried to look mad. “Too bad for you. But it’s really not my problem.”

He nodded sagely. “You’re scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Of spending time with me. You’re scared you’ll be overwhelmed with desire and say yes to everything, and wake up tomorrow morning, in my bed, with a ring on your finger.”

In his bed? My mouth went dry.

“It’s all right. I understand.” He fluttered his dark eyelashes outrageously. “You don’t trust yourself, because you want me so badly.”

It was so true. “That’s so not true!”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Then you’ll be my date?”

I thought about the type of people I’d be likely to meet at his party. A bunch of wealthy, beautiful, mean people. Just like Claudie. “No, thanks.”

“Why?” he demanded.

“The baby will wake up at midnight for a feeding...” I said weakly.

“I’ll have you back by midnight. Via pumpkin coach if necessary.”

“There’s no one I can trust as his babysitter!”

“Mrs. Gutierrez raised four children, and has ten grandchildren. She’s very trustworthy and experienced, and she’s agreed to stay.”

“You thought of everything,” I grumbled.

“So say yes.”

“I won’t fit in with your friends, okay?”

“Always so afraid,” he sighed. “Of me. Of them. Of your own shadow.”

He was clearly taunting me, but I couldn’t help but bristle. “Even if I wanted to go with you, it’s too late. Your party starts in twenty minutes, and unless you bought a ball gown in London yesterday without me noticing, I have nothing to wear!”

Alejandro smiled. “Did I ever show you our bedroom?”

I shook my head with a scowl. “It’s either yours or mine. Not ours.”

“That’s what I meant,” he said innocently. Walking ahead in the hallway, he pushed open a door.

The bedroom was enormous, with an amazing view of Madrid, but sparsely furnished, with only an expensive, masculine bed. And, incongruously, a crib beside it.

But when I looked closer at the bed, I saw a flash of pink. Coming closer, I gasped when I saw a pale pink gown, a delicious confection of flowers and silk, spread across his plain white bedspread. I picked it up with one hand, then dropped it when I saw the tag peeking at me. Oscar de la Renta.

A pumpkin coach, indeed! I whirled to face him. “You bought this yesterday. You always intended to bring me as your date tonight,” I accused.

His lips were curved in a sensual smile, then his hands went up in mock surrender. “I admit it.” Then he put down his hands, and his expression changed. His dark eyes became intent. Sensual. “I always get what I want,” he said softly, searching my gaze. “And I don’t give up. When something is difficult to possess, that only makes me want it more.”

For a long heartbeat, we stared at each other in his bedroom.

Then I tossed my head, hoping he couldn’t see how my body was trembling. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ll come with you tonight, since it means so much to you. I’ll do it for Miguel’s sake, so your friends will know he wasn’t just the result of some cheap one-night stand. But that’s it.”

His dark eyes burned into mine. “A cheap one-night stand? That is the last thing you were to me. You should know that by now.”

A shiver went down my spine and through my soul. I straightened, locking my knees, and I handed him the baby. “I’ll get dressed as quickly as I can.”

Thirty minutes later, Alejandro helped me out of the limo, holding my hand as we walked up a red carpet, past the flashbulbs of the paparazzi.

“I thought your company was a metals and real estate conglomerate,” I murmured beneath all of the attention.

“It is,” he said innocently, “among other things. We recently bought a movie studio. Look.” I followed his gaze to see a beautiful movie star whom I’d admired for years just ahead of us in a tight sequined gown. “That’s the reason for the paparazzi.”

“She is beautiful,” I said.

He looked down at me. “You’re more beautiful than her on your worst day. Even when you are wearing a dress like a sack and barely brush your hair.”

I snorted, expecting mockery. “You are so full of—”

Then I saw his expression, the frank hunger in his eyes as he looked at me, and my mouth went dry.

“Come on,” he said roughly. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go home.”

I licked my lips, tasting lipstick, which was foreign to me. But in this pale pink ball gown, I didn’t feel like myself at all. I might as well have been wearing glass slippers....

Alejandro led me into a large ballroom, filled with people dancing and drinking champagne beneath enormous crystal chandeliers high overhead. I watched as, ten minutes after we arrived, he went to the elevated dais and made a short speech into a microphone, congratulating the staff of his company, and thanking all their investors and friends, which was met by a roar of applause. When he left the microphone, he returned to my side.

“Now the work is done,” he whispered, nuzzling my ear. “Let’s have some fun.”

He took me out on the dance floor, and I trembled, remembering the last time he’d held me in his arms on a dance floor, the way he’d slowly seduced me, until I surrendered in my first kiss. Now, I felt his arms around me, and I shuddered from deep within, feeling his warmth and strength beneath the tuxedo, breathing in his cologne and the scent that was uniquely him. When the music ended after the first dance, I pulled away.

“I—I need some champagne,” I said unsteadily.

“Of course,” he said huskily, his dark eyes intent, as if he saw through me, every inch and pore, down to my heart and soul.