скачать книгу бесплатно
The customer’s eyes shot open wide and she giggled again, her cheeks flushed, hugging the parcel to her chest. She hurried back and collected the money before lingering where Alejandro stood ready to hold open the door. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered breathlessly, before launching herself into the street.
He pressed the door home behind her. ‘You see,’ he said, turning back to Leah, ‘not everyone seems to find my company so intolerable.’
‘Don’t I know it! That’s why I can’t believe you’re here. When I was with you there was a line of women who would have gladly scratched out my eyes if it meant they could replace me. Surely you couldn’t have got through them all that quickly?’
He shrugged in his couldn’t-care-less way as he checked the lock. ‘Where is the key for this door, Leah? We cannot talk if we’re going to be constantly interrupted.’
‘I can’t lock the door. I’m trying to run a business here.’
‘This is no place for you.’
‘I like my job.’
‘Working as a seamstress? Taking up other peoples’ hems?’
‘It’s an honest job. Maybe not up to the dizzy heights you’re used to, but not all of us are power-hungry megalomaniacs.’
His midnight eyes glinted dangerously as he came closer, moving around the counter as silkily and purposefully as a shark moving through the depths, all power and dangerous beauty. Her back stiffened as he drew alongside her, trapping her against the counter with his arms, his height forcing her to look up at him to meet his gaze—a gaze that turned her body’s thermostat to a slow sizzle. His dark eyes were suddenly so searching she’d swear he could see right into her soul.
‘I have hunger, I agree, but right now it’s not for power. I want to make love to you, Leah. Right here. Right now.’
Shock transfixed her to the spot. That and the primitive thrill that zipped along her spine and bloomed through her flesh in a rush of heat. Trust Alejandro not to play fair. She clamped down on her body’s reaction, doing her best to ignore the masculine scent that seemed to curl around her and tighten like a noose. ‘We can’t always have what we want.’
‘Oh, but I can.’ He lifted one hand and touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek, running them down the side of her face, and it was all she could do not to lean into his strong hand.
She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Alejandro …’
‘Ah, so now, you see, you remember my name. Likewise you must remember how good we can be together. Would you like to make love to me now, as I would like to make love to you?’
Beneath her bra and fitted shirt her nipples peaked and strained for release. Beneath her denim skirt the heat was already pooling, heavy and insistent. She swallowed and battled a body determined, it seemed, to betray her. ‘Look … this is crazy. It’s not even five o’clock in the afternoon—’
‘And when has the clock ever stopped you before? Don’t you remember how you used to inflame me, no matter what time of the day it was or where we were, and the more risk of being discovered, the more risk someone would happen upon us, the better? Do you remember how much you enjoyed it?’
Did he really think she could forget? Her face grew hotter as the memories of their sensual adventures, only shallow-buried in the recesses of her mind, were laid bare, all the more sharp-edged and powerful for their exposure. In their time together Alejandro had flicked some kind of switch inside her and turned someone who had never been taken with the sex act into a tigress. She’d matched his unrivalled appetite, sometimes even taking him by surprise by her own hunger.
But still she couldn’t answer him. Dared not. Lest he see how much she was moved, how much she was tempted.
‘Or was that the real reason?’
She swung her head up, something in his tone alerting her, making her suddenly suspicious. ‘The real reason for what?’
‘For not locking the door.’ An avaricious smile lit his features. ‘So we could make love here, now, with the door open, the windows uncovered. We could make love right here in this room, separated from the city of Sydney by just one glass door. Would you like that, my perfect Leah? Is that what you had planned all along?’
Arousal coursed like liquid fire through her veins. Arousal that welled up and threatened to consume her. Arousal that promised to bring her undone. ‘Alejandro,’ she said, battling to stay sane, battling to shore up a resolve that was fading fast. ‘What we had … it’s over.’
And he smiled again. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, querida. You and I, we are only just beginning.’
CHAPTER TWO
SHE knew he was going to kiss her. Knew it before he’d dipped his head and angled his face in her direction. Knew it before his hand curled had around her neck, drawing her closer to him.
Knew it and didn’t move a muscle to get away.
‘Alejandro …’
‘You already said that,’ he whispered, so quietly against her lips that she wasn’t sure if she’d heard the words or merely read them on his breath.
And then his mouth found hers and she didn’t care, for his taste was no longer just a distant memory, his touch was no longer just a dream. He was here and real and he was kissing her, his mouth moving over hers gently, his fingers stroking her neck in a massage so sensually inviting that it was impossible not to kiss him back.
And his lips were smooth and warm, inviting her participation, smoothing her objections. If Alejandro were a fabric, she decided as she melted into him, he would be silk, the finest quality Italian silk, black and rich and lustrous, moving like shadows in the light.
Her fingers bunched in his shirt, once more itching to be let loose on the firm-packed skin that lay so close beneath. He took advantage of her complicity to pull her deeper into the kiss, and she went with him into a kiss that was utterly magic and so infinitely sweet that her heart squeezed tight on the question—why couldn’t it have always been this way?—before two fat tears spilled unbidden down her cheeks.
Damn him! Two tears were more than enough to bring her to her senses. It was bad enough that she cared, but letting him see her tears—letting him know that she cared—would be suicidal.
‘I don’t want this,’ she said, finding untapped reserves of strength, taking him by surprise as she pushed at his rock-solid chest. She spun away, her hands swiping at her cheeks, obliterating any trace of tears before she was game enough to face him again. ‘I told you. I don’t want you back.’
As if a mask had dropped, his features were suddenly harsher, all unforgiving angles and damning planes, every trace of her silken seducer banished. From across the room he regarded her coolly, his eyes like polished stones, hard and unrelenting. ‘I don’t believe you.’
She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping herself together—centred—in a world that was in danger of lurching out of control. ‘I’m afraid you’ve wasted a trip, Spaniard,’ she said, not caring this time if she was rude, determined not to make the mistake of mentioning his name again. It was distance she needed right now. Distance, and to be once more left alone.
‘You will come back to me,’ he said, taking a step closer.
‘Not a chance.’
‘You will be my lover again.’
‘Don’t tell me what I will do! This is my city, my world. Here, I decide.’
‘And I tell you now, you will decide to come back to me.’
She crossed to the door on knees that threatened to buckle beneath her, opened it and let the noise of the outside world in. It was a welcome intrusion, loud and full of the pulse of the city, a reminder that the world didn’t begin and end with Alejandro, whatever he thought. ‘I think it’s time you were leaving.’
His passage to the door took much less time than hers but he didn’t exit as she’d hoped. Instead he stood in the doorway, regarding her solemnly. ‘I will go,’ he said, with such an air of finality that part of her wanted to weep. With relief, she tried to tell herself. But her nerves were too jangling and raw, and the thought that Alejandro might blow out of her life just as quickly as he’d blown in was somehow too much to come to terms with.
‘My car will pick you up at six o’clock. Don’t keep the driver waiting.’
So close to achieving her goal, his words were like a punch to the gut, sending her already scattered emotions further into disarray. ‘I don’t believe you. Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve been saying?’
‘I heard, but it makes no difference to me.’
‘This isn’t about you!’
‘No? Perhaps on that point we can agree. What if it was about your brother?’
She reeled back. ‘What do you know of Jordan?’
His eyes gleamed like a fisherman who’d just landed the first catch of the day. ‘We will discuss it tonight.’ He turned and made a move to comply with her request to leave. Except now she couldn’t let him.
She reached a hand out and latched on to his lean forearm, his muscled power evident even through the fine merino cloth of his coat. ‘Alejandro!’
He turned, his eyes sweeping enquiringly up from her hand to her face.
‘Please,’ she said, dropping her hand, knowing that it would be madness to meet him tonight, knowing the more time she spent with him, the more he would whittle down her shaky defences. ‘Tell me now.’
‘We will discuss it over dinner. I will take you somewhere to eat.’ His eyes flicked mercilessly over her. ‘You need filling out.’
‘Tell me now, or I won’t come.’
‘Oh, I think you will.’
And of course he was right. There was no way he was going to tell her until she complied with what he wanted. It was the way Alejandro worked, she knew. Never giving the opposition a chance. It was the reason he was so successful in business. It was the reason he was so successful in everything. Why should he treat her any differently? But a meeting was one thing. Going out for dinner with Alejandro was something else entirely.
She glanced down at herself, taking in her well-worn shoes, her denim skirt and casual shirt. Alejandro was not the type to eat at fast food chains, and that was all she was dressed for. ‘I can’t go out like this. I’ll go home first, get changed.’ Into what, she had no idea. She’d left the glitz and glamour of her mistress lifestyle in her dressing room at his villa.
‘You will not go home. You will come as you are. Just be ready when my car arrives.’
‘But—’
‘Six o’clock,’ he said.
‘Look, just so we understand each other. I’ll have dinner with you. I’ll hear what you have to say about Jordan. But I’m not changing my mind. I won’t come back to you.’
He looked down at her knowingly. ‘We’ll see,’ he said, and then he was gone.
She closed the door behind him and leaned against it, watching him slice his way through the crowded sidewalk, beautiful and black and oblivious to the stares and head-turns his passing generated. She watched him until he was absorbed into the city.
She sighed and rested her forehead against the cool glass. Jordan was up to his eyeballs in debt, just days away from the deadline to repay the money he’d borrowed—days away from who knew what disaster if he didn’t? And the last person she wanted to see, the man she’d broken ties with to save herself, Alejandro, was here, insisting she come back and press-ganging her into seeing him again.
Could things possibly get any worse?
* * *
He burned for her. His car banished, his stride ate up the Sydney streets. The wind whipped around him, but it couldn’t banish his heat; it couldn’t consume his need. Nothing could. He wanted her, and after seeing her he wanted her more than ever.
And he could have had her.
If she hadn’t pulled away, telling him she didn’t want him—lying to him—he would have had her there and then. Once more he would have felt her sweet tightness embrace him as no other woman could. Because she wanted him, he knew. He had known it from the first moment he had walked into her store, had read her own hunger in her eyes.
She needed him, no matter how much she pretended otherwise. He looked around for a street sign, getting his bearings. A woman caught his eye, smiled up at him. He scowled back and veered right.
But he had been right to come. Mentally he applauded the board’s decision to expand its casino operations into Australia. Tomorrow he was due in Queensland. And tonight he would get Leah back in his bed.
Soon her resistance would fall away. Soon she would have every reason to comply with his demands. And victory would be all the sweeter for the wait.
But right now he burned.
And he would not wait long!
Leah had never travelled to or from work in such style. She felt ridiculous, being ushered into the black limousine on a bow from the uniformed driver as if she were someone special instead of just another no-name, struggling for existence and survival in the big city. If it weren’t for the fact she needed to find out what Alejandro knew about Jordan, she would have refused point-blank to get in the car.
Especially for a six o’clock dinner. Not once in all the time she’d been with him had they eaten so early. What was the rush?
Fifteen minutes later the car pulled up at one of Sydney’s top hotels, making her feel even shabbier. She poked some stray tendrils that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ears as the driver came round to open her door, and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to quell the butterflies that had taken possession of her stomach at the prospect of seeing Alejandro again.
A smiling woman in a white fitted uniform met her as she alighted, holding out her hand. ‘Ms Mitchell? I’m Belinda from the beauty spa. Would you like to come with me?’
Leah looked to the driver, but he merely tipped his hat at her before curling himself into the driver’s seat. ‘I thought I was meeting Mr Rodriguez.’
Belinda smiled. ‘We have orders to deliver you to his suite no later than eight p.m.—which means we’d better get started. He’s ordered you the works.’
‘Has he?’ Leah bristled as she fell into step behind the woman. So, not only did he consider her scrawny and needing feeding up, now she needed a makeover before he’d be prepared to be seen in public with her. How very flattering.
Then again, anything that put off her meeting with Alejandro couldn’t be a bad thing. And a session in the beauty spa need not only be for Alejandro’s benefit. Anything that improved her self-esteem and made her feel at less of a disadvantage could only help her own cause.
She handed over her clothes for laundering in exchange for a fluffy robe, and surrendered herself to ‘the works’. It had been months since she had experienced anything like it—months since such pampering had been part and parcel of the package of being Alejandro’s love interest—and her body lapped up a luxury she could now ill afford. A scented oil bath and hot rock massage was followed by pedicure and manicure while someone else applied a facial. Finally her hair was cut and blow dried, then gathered into a style that pulled most of it up behind her head and left trailing coils down her neck. Professional make-up was the final touch.
Leah had to hand it to the team as she gazed at her reflection. They obviously knew their stuff. She felt more feminine than she had in weeks, with the dark circles around her eyes banished, letting her blue eyes sparkle, her formerly overdue-for-a-haircut hair now sleek and tamed, her cut-short-for-work nails now tapered and glossy red.
‘How do you feel?’ Belinda asked over her shoulder as the team surrounded her and surveyed their work.
Like a princess. ‘Wonderful,’ she said, and it wasn’t just their work she was applauding. Their skilful artistry had paid dividends, but there was something else she hadn’t noticed before. A resilience, a firmness in her chin that shone through and told her she didn’t have to be afraid. She’d walked away from Alejandro once before. She could handle whatever he had in mind. And now she was ready to prove it. ‘Where are my clothes?’
‘They’ve been sent up to the suite already. There’s a private lift that will take you direct to the penthouse. I’ll let the concierge know you’re ready.’
Leah swallowed back on a tinge of panic. She was expected to ascend to his room wearing nothing more than a fluffy robe? Alejandro certainly expected things all his own way. But she refused to let it undo her resolve as Belinda led her to the lift and bade her a good evening. She was up to whatever he threw at her. Hadn’t she just convinced herself of that?
There was no lobby. The lift doors opened directly into an expansive living room, decorated in golden hues and sprinkled with antique furniture. A grand piano held pride of place in one corner, a massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the scent of fresh flowers from numerous arrangements perfumed the air.
But all these things were incidental when it was the body sprawled so seemingly casually into a chair, one foot propped up on a footstool, that held her interest. For there was nothing casual about him. He looked ready to spring from his chair like a jungle cat, all grace and dark power, beauty and danger, wrapped up in one irresistible package. That she would resist! He watched her over steepled fingers, his gaze dark and penetrating. She refused to shrink back, although she did tighten the belt around her waist.
‘They said my clothes were sent up here.’
His head moved the merest fraction—his concession to a nod. ‘Not that you will be needing them.’
He rose from the chair in one languid movement that emphasised the lean power of his body. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘for forgetting my manners. I was deep in thought, and then you emerged from the lift looking like a goddess. I was simply struck dumb.’
All her senses were on red alert as he came closer. Not just because of his silken words, but because he looked so good himself. He’d showered recently, she could tell. His hair was curled and damp at the collar of his stark white shirt—a shirt that emphasised his rich olive skin and made him look even darker and more dangerous.
‘Lucky for me I scrub up well,’ she tossed into the ring, wanting to show him she was not bothered by his presence, while desperately trying not to be bothered by the clean scent of him curling into her senses.
He circled her—the jungle cat back at work, sizing up his meal. ‘Indeed you do, querida.’ His voice rumbled through her. ‘You “scrub up” very well.’
‘I assume if we’re to go to dinner I am to wear something?’
He came to a standstill in front of her and smiled. ‘If you are not to drive all the men wild with lust and their women wild with jealousy, it would be wise, yes.’
‘Perish the thought,’ she said, trying to lighten the mood in the room, though her skin prickled under her robe, her temperature rising. She was immune to his hyperbole—for the most part it washed over her—but as much as she wished it were so, there was no way she was immune to the man. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes sought hers and held on, tempting her, teasing, promising things he couldn’t deliver—she should know better, but how did one gain immunity from the man one loved?
