Australia: Sinful Secrets: Public Marriage, Private Secrets / Every Girl's Secret Fantasy / The Heart Surgeon's Secret Child

‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

She recognised the type—astute and a bit of a rake, sure of his effect on women, and content to play the seduction game.

‘No.’

Rafael’s eyes gleamed with wicked humour. ‘Special, hmm?’ He cast her a speculative look. ‘I can see why.’ His smile held such warmth it could have melted ice. ‘At least tell me your name.’

She wanted to laugh, his approach was so brazen. ‘Gianna.’

‘Velez-Saldaña,’ Raúl added with an edge to his voice only a fool would ignore.

‘A relative?’

‘My wife.’

‘Ah.’ Comprehension was swift and accompanied by a wry smile. ‘I am not surprised you guard her so well.’

‘Indeed.’

A soft laugh escaped Rafael’s lips. ‘My cue, I think, to move along.’

Raúl merely inclined his head, and Gianna waited a few seconds before offering a sallying reproof beneath the guise of a visibly sweet smile. ‘Must you behave like a proprietorial oaf?’

For a moment she thought he might laugh, and her eyes narrowed in silent warning beneath his gleaming gaze.

‘Most men are proprietorial with their women.’

‘Correction…I’m no longer your woman.’

His gaze remained steady as he took his time to gently query, ‘No?’

She could give no plausible reason why the air between them suddenly became electrically charged…nor could she explain why her pulse quickened to a drumming beat.

For a moment she almost swayed beneath a wave of raw primal heat, and she hated that he sensed it.

The hotel, the guests, even the reason she was there, faded beyond the periphery of her vision so there was only him.

He made no attempt to touch her, which was just as well, for she seemed to have temporarily lost her sense of reality, adrift in a mindless sea of remembered passion.

An intrusive sound shattered the vivid image, and she blinked as the room and its occupants swam back into focus, together with the realisation that the guests were beginning to move into the ballroom.

Staff were on hand to check tickets and offer directions to reserved tables, and it was a relief to discover she recognised two of the couples sharing their table.

Charming company, excellent food and interesting conversation made for a pleasant evening, with funds raised exceeding expectations. The entertainment provided some comedic humour, a magician and his assistant, and the usual speeches extolled the charity’s achievements, goals, and made a plea for guests to donate generously.

The evening provided vivid memories of other similar functions Gianna had attended in the past, mostly at venues in Madrid with Raúl. Occasions when she’d sparkled in company, able to converse with ease, secure that the man at her side was as much hers as she was his.

Her presence here tonight with Raúl after such a long absence would raise speculative interest and it bothered her that he was doing nothing to dispel it.

Playing a part, she rationalised as he leant in close to refill her glass.

Why was she so acutely attuned to him on a sexual level, when all her instincts almost screamed a warning to cut and run away from him as fast as she could before…what?

She succumbed and slept with him?

As if!

That wasn’t going to happen…not now, not ever. For there was no way she’d venture down that road again.

Yet it was impossible not to remember how it felt to be held by him…kissed until her mind went blank…made love to as if the world would soon end.

Haunting and undeniably taunting…notching up the sensual heat several degrees as fire raced through her veins.

Hell.

With considerable effort she forced her breathing to slow to an even beat, then reached for her glass and took a measured sip of chilled wine.

Better…but not by much.

Did he sense the emotional chaos his close proximity caused her? She fervently hoped not.

A few of the guests began gathering on the dance floor as music started to play.

‘Shall we join them?’

Gianna met Raúl’s faintly mocking gaze and effected a slight shrug. ‘Why not?’

A foolish move, she decided within minutes, as the beat changed and he drew her close…too close…and easily resisted her effort to put a little space between them.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Dancing,’ he drawled as he held her there, with one hand resting low beneath the back of her waist in a hold that was the antithesis of conventional.

‘Why not call it what it is?’

A soft, almost undetectable sound emerged from his throat. ‘A reminder of how things used to be between us?’

Yes. Damn him.

A time when she’d exulted in the anticipation of how the evening would end…the subtle teasing, the warmth of his breath close to her ear as he softly relayed how they’d make love, building the sensual tension until she’d positively ached for them to be alone.

‘If you don’t want me to accidentally kick your ankle,’ Gianna managed sweetly, ‘I suggest you step back a little.’

‘Fighting words, querida?’

It was the endearment responsible for her swift retaliatory action…and to give him credit he didn’t so much as wince or miss a step.

The only warning she received was the sudden flex of his bicep beneath her hand, then his mouth covered her own in a kiss that stopped the breath in her throat.

Deliberately erotic, it invaded, branded her his own, then gentled a little before he lifted his head to regard her with dark brooding eyes.

The temptation to slap his face was almost impossible to resist, and it was only the stark realisation of time and place that cautioned against such an action.

But just wait until the moment we’re alone.

‘That was unforgivable.’ She hated the slight quiver in her voice, and could do nothing to still the faint shivery sensation feathering down her spine.

Almost as if he knew, he slid a soothing hand in its wake, and briefly touched his lips to her temple. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

They did. Raúl followed courtesy by touching base with the charity organiser, a member of the committee, then paused to bid goodnight to a few friends and business acquaintances en route to one of the exits.

‘It’s wonderful to see you both reunited,’ a feminine voice offered with sincerity as they paused at a rear table.

But we’re not, Gianna was inclined to inform her, and it was only the sudden tightening of Raúl’s fingers in silent warning that stalled her contradiction.

He eased the vehicle into the steady stream of traffic and began heading towards Calvià.

It was a clear night, with an indigo sky in which there were the pinpricks of light from distant stars. Almost magical, if she’d been in the mood to appreciate the nightscape.

Instead she was seething from the need to keep her deep-seated anger in check…until now.

The kaleidoscope of night lights and brightly coloured neon barely registered as she visibly killed him with a dark look that would have quelled a lesser man.

‘Just what game are you playing?’ she demanded, and met his rapid glance before he returned his attention to the road ahead.

‘Precisely what are you referring to?’

‘All of it,’ she vented, volubly incensed. ‘The touchy-feely thing…kissing me like that.’

‘Your objection being?’

‘That you did it at all, and in public.’ She paused to breathe. ‘You deliberately led people to think we’re…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence, and he did it for her.

‘Together?’

‘Yes. And we’re not. Won’t be. Ever’ she added for good measure.

‘Then perhaps you’d care to explain the extent of your anger.’

For a moment she was speechless. ‘What is this? Psychoanalysis?’ Seconds later she gasped in shocked surprise as he tripped the indicator and eased the car to a halt at the kerb. ‘Why are you stopping?’

Her eyes widened as he released his seat belt, then her own, and reached for her.

‘Don’t.’ It was the one word she managed to get out before his mouth closed over hers in a gentle exploratory touch that sought to soothe her soul…then capture and reunite it with his own.

Gianna wanted to resist. And she tried, she really did, until she was swept up in the emotional tide he created and became lost—so totally lost the she was unaware of reaching up to clasp her hands together at his nape…or the fervour with which she answered his passion.

Don’t think… Because if she did, she’d wrench herself from his arms and escape from the car…from him and the sensual magic he encapsulated without any seeming effort at all.

It was as if they had gone back in time to a place where everything was good. When their love had been beyond question and they’d existed solely for each other.

There were no doubts, no lack of trust…just undeniable emotion.

For a while she forgot everything…the time, the place…there was only the need for his touch as she kissed him back, exulting in the feel of him. And wanting so much more. Skin on skin…

Ohmigod… What was she thinking?

Correction. She wasn’t thinking at all.

Reality slowly dawned, and she tore her hands from him and began using them as leverage in an effort to free herself.

At first she didn’t think he’d let her go, and silent tears welled and spilled down her cheeks at the futility of the situation…worse, her reaction.

Blind lust, she attributed…almost to the point where she didn’t care how or where, as long as her long-withheld desire found some form of release.

She felt like a lust-filled teenager, almost beyond control, making out in a parked car.

In a luxurious car, parked at the side of a main thoroughfare after midnight.

With Raúl.

The man to whom she was still technically married.

The man she intended to divorce.

So what the hell was she doing?

She became aware of gentle fingers brushing the tears from her cheeks, and she shook her head in distress as Raúl cradled her face.

‘Don’t.’ It was a cry from the heart, and in one smooth movement, he released the seat back to its fullest extension, pulled her onto his lap…and simply held her.

The temptation to remain in the comfort of his arms was strong. This close, her senses were so finely attuned to him…in every way. The familiar clean male smell, the exclusive cologne he chose to wear, his strength…his gentle touch as he smoothed a few tendrils of hair that had escaped from her upswept style.

She wanted to melt into him. Yet that would never do. For how could she afford to relent when there were unresolved issues between them?

She stirred, felt his arms momentarily tighten, then at her faint protest he eased her into the passenger seat and fired the ignition.

They reached Teresa’s villa in silence, and Gianna bade Raúl goodnight in the foyer, then ascended the stairs and entered her suite.

It took only minutes to undress, pull on nightwear, then she crossed to the en suite bathroom to unpin her hair and remove her make-up. Except the face in the mirror didn’t resemble her normal reflected image. Eyes so dark and dilated; lips slightly swollen from being so thoroughly kissed.

Different.

There was no soft dreaminess apparent…just a mix of disbelief tinged with concern. She didn’t want to be caught up in an emotional vortex…couldn’t afford to be if she was to escape unscathed.

With every passing day she became more aware of the sensuality between them…the promise of more unless she guarded her heart—and her head.

It hurt to know how easy it would be to have sex with him. How much a part of her craved the intimacy. Just once. One night.

Except it wouldn’t be enough…and then where would she be? Right back where she had left him three years ago. Heartbroken and bereft. Heartsick. With a need to repair the emotional damage and move on with her life…again.

Wasn’t going to happen.

With determined effort, she applied cleanser, wiped it off, washed her face, cleaned her teeth, then studiously worked in moisturising cream before taking the pins from her hair and confining its length in a loose tail.

Go to bed and sleep, she bade herself silently.

It took a while to dispense with a host of haunting images, the last of which she remembered was how it felt to be held in Raúl’s arms before she slid into blissful oblivion.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ANY hope Gianna held of Raúl returning to Madrid didn’t appear to be fulfilled, given he chose to share breakfast with Teresa before retreating into the home office to work undisturbed until lunch.

It was on the fourth day into the first week of her two-week sojourn that Teresa announced the imminent arrival of some family members.

‘They’re staying with my aunt Rosita in her Palma apartment for a few days, and I’ve invited them to lunch today.’

Family numbered five, comprising Teresa’s sister, Emilia, and her husband, Jorge, their adult children, Pablo and Cristina, and elderly Aunt Rosita. Together with Teresa and Gianna it added up to seven…eight, Gianna corrected as Raúl joined them.

Except his presence didn’t make for relaxed enjoyment, and she could tell he knew from the faint amusement evident in his dark eyes.

Ignoring him wasn’t possible, and she didn’t even try.

‘Teresa tells me you own a successful boutique,’ Emilia began politely.

‘Yes,’ Gianna acknowledged with a smile. ‘I stock speciality gifts. Venetian glassware, crystal, decorative bowls in various shapes and colours. Beautifully scented triple-milled soaps, exotic handmade candles…’

‘Situated in a tourist holiday town, I believe?’

‘It’s true the Gold Coast is a holiday destination,’ she acknowledged. ‘However, it’s a bustling cosmopolitan city, with a large population, multi-million-dollar homes with river and ocean frontages, beautiful beaches, shopping complexes, theme parks.’

‘The climate is good?’ Pablo queried. He was close to Gianna in age.

‘Sub-tropical,’ she relayed. ‘Long summers and short mild winters.’

‘You have family there?’

‘My brother, Ben, and his family live in Sydney.’

‘And your parents also?’ Raúl’s aunt questioned.

‘Gianna’s mother died several years ago,’ Raúl informed her. ‘Her father remarried and resides in Paris.’

‘I see.’

No, she didn’t. Who could comprehend the loss of a dearly loved mother, then too soon afterwards witnessing a father remarry and move to the other side of the world? It had felt like abandonment at the time…although with hindsight that wasn’t strictly true. Their father had gifted Ben and Gianna the family home in equal shares. Ben, had already been a lawyer with excellent prospects, while she’d had steady part-time work while she studied business management.

Together they’d shared the home for three years, until Ben had married Eloise and bought out Gianna’s half-share, whereupon she had purchased a flat and taken in a friend to help share expenses.

The same friend who had suggested Madrid as a holiday destination…except holiday had extended into a longer stay when Gianna had been offered a temporary position by one of Ben’s associates based in Madrid.

It was where she had met Raúl, at an event she’d attended at the request of her employer. Glitz and glamour, Gianna recalled of the night in question, where, as corny as it sounded, she’d met Raúl’s faintly hooded gaze across the crowded room and become momentarily transfixed by him, aware even then that tangling with him in any way would consign her way out of her depth, floundering in previously unchartered waters.

He’d played it cool, engaging her attention, then dazzling her with practised charm. Putting in the groundwork, she attributed wryly. On one level the sexual chemistry had intrigued her, and she had been tempted to explore it. Yet there had also been the intrinsic knowledge that if she did she’d become totally lost in the fallout.

Except her fears had been unfounded, and following a whirlwind courtship she’d agreed to move in with him.

A leap of faith, Gianna concluded, that had begun so well…

‘Pablo has tickets for the opera at the Teatro Principal tonight,’ Cristina ventured. ‘Would you like to join us?’

‘Oh, please do,’ Teresa encouraged quickly. ‘Raúl?’

He met Gianna’s faintly desperate glance, divined it, and challenged her. ‘Thank you. We’ll meet you there.’

Wretch, she silently cursed him.

Teresa clapped her hands together in delight. ‘It will be lovely for you to have an evening out together.’

You think?

Yet how could she deny an arrangement that appeared to give Teresa such pleasure?

‘We have reservations to dine first,’ Cristina added, and named a restaurant.

Oh, joy.

Teresa’s family had to know of their estrangement. Surely an absence of three years conveyed they were living apart? On opposite sides of the world, for heaven’s sake.

So why this evening’s invitation? A covert attempt to bring them together?

Some chance.

Words which seemed to echo in her head as she put the final touches to her make-up, added jewellery and slid her feet into stilettos.

Formal wear meant she chose a sophisticated halter-neck gown in deep aqua silk, which flowed over her slender curves and highlighted her flawless skin. A matching silk wrap completed the outfit, and she silently thanked her instinct to pack it. She left her hair loose, collected her evening purse, crossed the suite to open the door and saw Raúl in the process of exiting his suite.

A dark evening suit shaped his form as if tailor-made for him—which it undoubtedly was.

He was something else, she admitted reluctantly as he paused, waiting for her to join him.

An intrusive presence who succeeded in putting her on edge. In spades, she acknowledged ruefully.

He bore a relaxed look that was deceptive, for beneath the projected persona was the mind of an intensely shrewd man who would stop at nothing to achieve his objective.

As long as it didn’t include her, the remaining days should pass with relative pleasantness.

So why did she harbour the instinctive feeling that they were each on a different page?

Crazy, she dismissed as she walked at his side to the head of the stairs and descended them to the foyer.

‘Pablo and Cristina have already left to drop their parents at Rosita’s apartment,’ Raúl indicated as they reached the BMW four wheel drive parked beneath the portecochère.

It was a beautiful evening, with fresh sea air drifting in from the ocean as Raúl eased the powerful vehicle toward the centre of Palma.

Traffic was beginning to build up as offices closed and staff made their way home. Soon the restaurants would begin serving those choosing to dine out, and entertainment in its various forms would attract clientele.

The hotel where Pablo had made restaurant reservations offered valet parking, and the maître d’s recognition bordered on the obsequious as he escorted them to their table, personally ensuring they were comfortably seated while offering any service they required.

The power of extreme wealth and social status, Gianna acknowledged wryly.

‘It would seem your reputation precedes you.’

‘Specifically?’

‘Why, your wit and charm, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Raúl mocked with a degree of amusement.

‘A babe magnet,’ she offered dryly. ‘I can’t quite pin it down to any one thing. The name Velez-Saldaña, perhaps, and all that goes with it…the villas, the apartments in various cities in the world, the luxury cars.’ She tilted her head a little. ‘The private jet, luxury cruiser, your—er—generous attributes.’

His eyes assumed a faintly wicked gleam. ‘Would you care to elaborate on that?’

‘No.’

‘I’ve missed your refreshing honesty.’

‘Oh, please. There were a string of women just waiting to take my place.’

‘None of whom interested me.’

She looked at him carefully. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘Your prerogative.’

At that moment she saw Pablo and Cristina enter the restaurant, and after checking with the maître d’ they made their way to the table.

Gianna liked Raúl’s cousins. Pablo possessed a droll sense of humour, while Cristina knew fashion—what was in, what wasn’t—and had the advantage of being able to determine even the most skilled copy from the genuine designer article.

‘We must get together,’ Cristina intimated when they’d perused the menu and placed their orders. ‘I saw the most divine dress in a hotel boutique that would be perfect for you.’ Her eyes sharpened a little, assessing in a way that Gianna recognised would lead to more. ‘We’ll get a manicure, have a facial, share lunch. Catch up.’

It was tempting, although her first priority had to be spending time with Teresa. Just as she was about to decline Raúl suggested, ‘Why not arrange to meet in the afternoon while Teresa rests?’

‘Done.’ Cristina reached into her purse and extracted a pocket diary, flipped the pages and had pen poised and ready. ‘When?’

Good question. Teresa mentioned a lunch or two with friends, an evening charity event to which Velez-Saldaña leant their generous support.

‘Can I get back to you on that?’

‘You can.’ Cristina wrote down a phone number and handed Gianna the card. ‘Call me.’

Pablo offered an expressive eye-roll. ‘Not to do so will be at your peril.’

‘You exaggerate,’ his sister rebuked.

‘Do I?’

‘It’s called efficiency.’

‘Officiousness.’

Cristina and Pablo shared a sibling rivalry based on teasing affection, appearing to delight in verbal sallying at every opportunity. Something, Raúl had once confided, which had existed between them since childhood.

Waitstaff presented their meal with artistic flair, and each morsel proved a delectable testament to the chef’s supreme reputation.

Raúl was an urbane host, relaxed and at ease as he led Pablo into a discussion of Real Madrid’s chances of winning a soccer cup final, with spirited conclusions drawn by Cristina who, Pablo teased, had her eye on one of the team players.

‘Romantically,’ Pablo added, only to be volubly chastised by his sister. A tirade he chose to ignore. ‘They met at a party. Went on a date. He sent her flowers.’

Given Cristina made no secret of her determination to remain dedicated to her career and single, it was impossible not to smile, and Gianna didn’t even try. ‘You’re not going to mention his name?’

Cristina’s response was swift and fierce. ‘Not if he values his life.’

A waiter’s presence to take their order for coffee was timely…so, too, was the need to leave for the Teatro Principal, where a stand-out performance by a cast in splendid costume captured and held the audience’s attention with breathtaking appreciation. Especially the female lead, whose clarity of voice and emotional delivery touched even the most insensitive heart.

The timed breaks between each act allowed the audience to move into the foyer, and it was there the social elite gathered and acknowledged friends.

‘Raúl.’

Gianna turned slightly to see if the husky feminine purr matched the woman to whom it belonged.

It did.

Model-slim, exquisitely gowned, beautifully jewelled, with gorgeous dark hair waved in a deceptively casual style and darkly sensuous eyes with thinly veiled intent.

‘Rafaela.’ His acknowledgement held polite warmth, but little more.