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Before she could even reply, Leandro slid his fingers beneath her chin and claimed her mouth in a deeply satisfying—and bordering on ravenous—kiss.
‘Good morning,’ she croaked, her black-coffee eyes wide with surprise and pleasure.
As Leandro lazily surveyed Isabella’s early-morning face, her bewitching beauty undimmed by lack of rest, her long dark hair spilling over her smooth bare shoulders and her tentative smile intriguingly self-conscious, his stomach clutched with surprising regret at the thought of having to say goodbye to her today. This woman had given him such stunning and unforgettable pleasure—both with her body and her company and he was not quite ready to relinquish either. Leandro found himself wishing that they could spend the rest of the day in bed and let the world carry on without them. But inevitably they must part—he to return to his house to catch up with some urgent reading of new manuscripts and work proposals before returning to Madrid to embark upon his latest cinematic project—and she to continue this most ancient of pilgrimages, presumably followed by her own return to her homeland …
‘I could wish to be woken in such a satisfying way every morning, my fair Isabella.’ There it was again …that very appealing and possessive ‘my’. Used in such a seductive way, the huskily voiced note of ownership could not possibly offend her …quite the opposite. Allowing him to pull her against his chest and smooth back her tousled dark fringe from her face, Isabella breathed in Leandro’s addictive soft musk scent as he grinned at her suggestively.
She had to attempt at least twenty miles today through varying and challenging terrain if she was to catch up with some walking companions as arranged and the memory of that wicked and gorgeous smile of his was surely going to sustain her until she reached the monastery where she had planned to stay tonight …But at the thought of parting from Leandro, Isabella felt a hollow little flutter inside her chest and then the same again—only stronger—in the pit of her stomach. ‘You’ve hardly had any sleep at all and now I’ve woken you,’ she said apologetically.
‘And I was the very inconsiderate man who kept you awake most of the night because I could not keep my hands off of you! You should not be endowed with so many beguiling qualities to tempt me so much!’ He laughed huskily. Isabella wanted to say, I’ll miss you, but then she remembered that Leandro Reyes was a very well known and respected film director and once he had returned to his busy and demanding life her memory would be relegated very firmly to his past. She knew she wasn’t special. Working in the film industry as he did, he would have every opportunity to bed the most alluring women and probably did. She would be just one of many. Her stomach protested with a sickening twist at the thought …
‘I should get up and get dressed,’ she murmured, deliberately averting her gaze away from the cynosure of his piercing silvery eyes …the eyes that seemed to see into her soul. She’d best just start to forget him right now if that were possible and focus on the pilgrimage instead. ‘I’ve got to get back to my hotel and get some breakfast and fill my water bottle before I get going again.’
‘Benito’s driver will drop us both back when we are ready,’ Leandro responded immediately, ‘but we can breakfast here first.’
‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind? I have to make up quite a bit of time today.’ Moving away from him, she sat up, using some of the sheet to hide her nakedness. For some reason, a strong wave of protectiveness for the vulnerability the gesture exposed washed over Leandro. Once again he had cause to admonish himself for his uncharacteristic reaction. Isabella and he had had a good time in bed …an unbelievable time, in fact …but at the end of the day she was just another beautiful girl passing through and in a few days’ time, when she had completed the pilgrimage, she would be going home again to England. End of story …So long as she did not relate any of what had occurred between them to her sister or anyone else associated with the media, Leandro would relegate their time together to a very pleasurable and warm memory.
‘So?’ He sat up too, the warm skin on his thigh brushing up against hers. He sensed her answering shiver and felt a strong leap of desire. He quelled it. ‘When you go back to England …where is home?’ he asked casually.
A quizzical little crease appeared between Isabella’s fine dark brows, as though she was surprised he should ask such a question.
‘I live in Islington in London …the least posh part. Do you know it?’
‘I have heard of it.’ Leandro smiled. ‘And you work nearby?’
‘In Highgate. It’s not far away.’
‘And you will be busy working on your book when you return, sí?’
Isabella shrugged self-consciously, the movement dislodging the sheet and suddenly exposing her bare breasts. She quickly grabbed it back again and covered herself. ‘That’s the plan. And you …you’ll be working on a film I guess?’
Immediately the shutters came down over Leandro’s eyes and Isabella could have kicked herself. She’d hate to think that he might believe she would tell anybody anything that he’d told her …especially about his work or his private life. Considering that both were topics he’d deliberately avoided discussing during their time together, he must know he had nothing to fear?
‘I will be getting back to work, sí. Isabella?’
‘Yes?’ Her dark eyes widened as she watched his hand scrape through his tousled hair.
‘I would give you my phone number but it is not something that I do readily or easily. In my position, I have to be careful …you understand?’ His words confirmed she was not important to him in any way as well as reiterating his intense need to guard his privacy. Fielding the immense wave of hurt and disappointment that washed over her, Isabella briefly inclined her head. ‘Yes, I understand.’
‘Why don’t you use the shower first?’ he suggested smoothly and she could easily sense his withdrawal from her. ‘I have a couple of phone calls to make before we leave.’
‘Okay.’ She felt as if she’d been somehow dismissed from his life as though she were nothing but an afterthought, and Isabella’s heart was sickeningly heavy as she turned her back to get out of bed …
CHAPTER FOUR
Eighteen Months Later …London, England.
‘I’M SORRY I’m back a little late, Natasha, but Chris and I went for coffee after the film. Is Raphael asleep?’
‘He’s sound as anything. I don’t even think an earthquake would wake him! And you’re not late at all …I told you not to rush. You could have gone for a meal or something instead of just a coffee. How was it?’
The petite blonde stood back from the door to allow Isabella entry, watching her friend unbutton her long black coat, then unwind her cerise knitted scarf and hang them both on the pine-wood coat-stand inside the hall.
‘How was what?’ she asked distractedly, blowing briefly down onto her chilled hands. The November weather was icy tonight, with the wind as lethal as a sharpened razor. The past few winters had been almost strangely mild but this one was kicking in with a vengeance, it seemed. Northern Spain and those sun-drenched mesas seemed a million miles away.
Mockingly lifting her pale, perfectly shaped brows, Natasha put her hands on her almost stick-thin hips. ‘The film, of course! What did you think I meant?’
Isabella almost didn’t want to discuss the film. Instead she wanted to stow the memory of it away and savour the details later when she was alone—like a treat she wanted to keep for herself and didn’t want to share. The story had touched her deeply. It had been about a mother’s relationship with her son …a son who, when he was grown, had rejected his simple country background in every sense because he had been so thoroughly seduced by the apparent ‘glamour’ of western culture. So seduced that he’d turned his back even on the woman who’d raised him. The director had been one Leandro Reyes. Even if Isabella had never had the good fortune to meet the man, she would have instantly been a fan after seeing this movie. It had been done exquisitely sensitively and, although emotions had unquestioningly been stirred, never at any time had Leandro’s sublime direction allowed the audience to be manipulated by them. He’d simply let the story and the consummate skill of the actors playing the parts speak for themselves—yet the guiding hand he’d wielded was unmistakable. Leaving the cinema afterwards with her friend Chris, Isabella had been in silent awe at what she’d witnessed.
‘The film was wonderful! You should try and get to see it some time. I couldn’t recommend it highly enough.’
Both women turned automatically towards the kitchen. Isabella because she was in dire need of a soothing cup of chamomile tea to calm emotions that had been charged quite unremittingly by Leandro’s film, and Natasha because she was eager to hear any titbits of gossip that Isabella and Chris had shared in her absence.
‘You know me. I don’t really go for those intellectual art-house films. Give me a nice uncomplicated romantic comedy any day!’
‘But it wasn’t trying to be intellectual at all.’
Reaching the kitchen, Isabella filled the electric kettle with water, then plugged it in at the socket next to the toaster. Opening an overhead cupboard, she retrieved a chamomile teabag and dropped it into her favourite patterned pottery mug. ‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked her friend.
‘Neither, thanks. I had a coffee just before you got back and I really should go home, to be honest. I’ve got to be up early to open the nursery at eight.’
‘Okay …but like I was saying …’ Isabella folded her arms across the black ribbed sweater she wore with her red corduroy skirt, a slight frown between her dark brows ‘ …the film wasn’t coming from the intellect at all …It was coming from the heart.’
Shrugging a little self-consciously because she knew that she’d expressed her opinion so passionately, Isabella tried to fend off her natural fear that she shouldn’t reveal her feelings quite so vociferously. Keeping her deeper emotions mostly hidden was something she had learned by necessity to do so that she wouldn’t make waves with her family. And even though she did buck the trend every now and then—such as when she’d called off her wedding to Patrick and upset everybody—somehow the trait had translated to other relationships too. And sometimes, Isabella reflected, the insights and revelations she had learned on the Camino were not always ready to be shared with others …
Generally, people didn’t like you raising topics that made them question the purpose of their own lives. Most folk got along quite happily pretending that everything was fine, she had found—even when it clearly wasn’t.
‘Anyway—’ Natasha grinned ‘—how’s Chris getting on with this new bloke of hers? Do you think he’ll last beyond two or three dates as is her usual record?’
Chris had confided in Isabella that she really liked this new man she was seeing and, yes, she definitely did have hopes that the relationship would last beyond her usual quota of a couple of dates. Her friend yearned to get married and start a family and, at thirty-one years old, had started to fear that it might never happen. Tonight she had confessed to Isabella that she envied her being the mother of a baby son …
At the thought of her little boy, a bubble of joy seemed to burst inside her and Isabella happily anticipated cuddling him later and reacquainting herself with that most delicious of baby scents at the back of his adorable neck. She couldn’t deny she was looking forward to her favourite occupation—spending precious time with her beautiful child. He had truly become the centre of her whole world. For her, walking the Camino Way back in the spring of last year had been even more life changing than she’d anticipated. Now she had Raphael …the unexpected ‘gift’ she’d received from her incredible night of passion with Leandro Reyes. The discovery that she was pregnant had honestly come as the most stupendous of shocks.
They’d been so careful, she’d recalled hotly, even as a stomach-rolling memory had disturbingly nudged her recall—of being half asleep in the dead of night with the shrill repetitive drone of cicadas filling the hot, sultry air and hearing Leandro murmur as if dreaming …Isabella …my Isabella …’ before reaching out to her …Raphael had been conceived during those somehow ‘unreal’ moments when they’d both thought they were dreaming, and Isabella’s previous life, as a young single woman who’d been feeling vaguely dissatisfied and in turmoil about her future and who had chosen to walk the path of an ancient pilgrimage to ‘find’ herself, had been changed for ever. Now, forcing her attention back to the present and a quizzical-looking Natasha, who was clearly wondering what Isabella was looking so ‘dreamy’ about, she flushed a little guiltily. ‘I think that you should talk to Chris herself about that.’ She smiled and turned to fill her mug with the hot water that had boiled.
‘Trying to get some gossip out of you is like trying to get a politician to tell the truth! Bloody impossible! What amazes me is that you and your sister couldn’t be more different! Emilia wouldn’t hesitate to ditch any principles for a juicy story or a job promotion, yet you have enough for the whole of the UK!’
Stirring her tea and extracting the squeezed teabag, Isabella laid it carefully on a saucer and turned back to calmly regard her exasperated friend. It was ironic really. Her parents thought she had no principles for sleeping with some ‘opportunist stranger’ she’d met in Spain and getting pregnant by him and yet her friends thought she was too principled for words! She couldn’t win. ‘I’m honestly not trying to be holier than thou or anything; I just think it’s Chris’s business, that’s all. As for my sister—’ she frowned ‘—I want to be able to sleep tonight so I don’t think I’ll open that particular can of worms if you don’t mind!’
The relationship between the two women was even more strained than usual. Emilia had been frosty with Isabella ever since she’d returned from Spain last year and had not produced the demanded ‘interview’ with Leandro Reyes as she’d hoped—but Isabella had already decided that she was not going to divulge anything about her meeting with the renowned film director to anybody. Their time together had been so precious, so amazing, that she didn’t want to sully the memory of it with gossip. When she’d discovered that she was pregnant by Leandro, she’d strengthened that personal vow even more. Not even Isabella’s parents knew who her little son’s father was …And even though they clearly doted on their unexpected grandchild, they’d declared themselves to be ‘mortally disappointed’ in their eldest daughter for yet again letting down the side.
‘Well, if you’re not going to spill any beans, then I’m afraid I’m just going to have to love you and leave you.’ Her innate good nature overwhelming her disappointment at not learning any new gossip, Natasha stepped towards the dark-haired girl and gave her a genuinely fond hug. ‘Honestly, though, I’m happy to look after Raphael any time. He’s an absolute angel as well as being utterly gorgeous and you’ve made all your girlfriends green with envy …dedicated career women or not!’
‘Thanks, Natasha. It’s been a great help to me to be able to leave him at your nursery when I’m working at the library. I know for sure he’s in good hands.’
‘You’re welcome. And perhaps I’ll go see that film you saw tonight at the weekend? See if it’s as wonderful as you say it is.’
‘You won’t be disappointed, I promise you.’
Already the film had become monumentally important to Isabella because it was yet another precious link to the man she’d given her heart to all those months ago …the man who was unknowingly the father of her baby.
Walking her friend to the door and helping her on with her coat, Isabella turned eagerly towards the bedroom as the other woman finally left, unable to wait even one moment longer to see her sleeping child …
Tipping out the contents of his wallet to search for a telephone number he needed, Leandro came upon a small gold business card from his friend Benito’s hotel. He hadn’t been in touch with him since that night he’d taken Isabella there and now he dropped down into the faded leather chair behind his desk and frowned in deep concentration. All kinds of disturbing emotions seemed to flare in his blood as he continued to broodingly stare at the small embossed card. An avalanche of heat flooded his senses as Leandro recalled that amazing, sexually charged night he’d spent with Isabella. Isabella …
Such a longing arose inside him at the memory of the dark-haired English girl he had been so enamoured with that he’d seduced her on the very first night they’d met and for a moment the depth of that longing was a hollow, aching void in the centre of Leandro’s chest. He had thought about her often since bidding her goodbye outside her hotel in the Port of Vigo and there had been many a time that he had regretted his cautious decision not to give her his telephone number so that they could stay in touch.
But what was she doing now? He longed to know. Had walking the Santiago de Compostela brought her the clarity and sense of purpose that she had hoped it would? Knowing what he knew, Leandro could not doubt that it had. Perversely, in the months that had followed their parting, his personal sense of purpose had been in turmoil. He had won more acclaim for his work than he had ever dreamed of, with offers coming even from Hollywood to further his directorial career. Yet he had also lost his father just a month after meeting Isabella and the loss had been almost too hard to bear.
Suddenly work was not the exciting prospect that took precedence over everything. He was like a wounded soldier who had forgotten to keep his guard up in battle and had unexpectedly been cut down by a sword or a bayonet. His father’s death had been sudden, shocking, his life stolen in one dreadful moment by a drunken driver, and that had made his passing even worse.
Theirs had been a remarkable relationship. As well as being the most amiable and best of men to get along with, Vincente Reyes had been the most dedicated fan of Leandro’s film work. Yet Leandro had not been able to fulfil the one wish that his father had longed to see come true before he died. He had wanted to see his only son married and a father and would have liked nothing better than a grandson or daughter to dote on. But Leandro had not had a long-term girlfriend in nearly three years …how could he even think about a relationship when basically his life was more or less devoted to his work?
But now as he remembered the intensity of emotion he had experienced that night with Isabella, he seriously thought about getting in touch with her again. Thinking of his father and the brutal realisation that life could be so suddenly and frighteningly snatched away, it had made Leandro increasingly sense the importance of making a connection somewhere with another human being. A much more personal connection than he had made in a long, long time. If Isabella had a relationship or was married, then he would leave well alone. However, if she were not …then what would be the harm in arranging to see her again? Feeling his blood throb with purpose, Leandro reached towards the telephone on his desk, automatically punching out a number he used regularly to make travel reservations …
It had been a long day and her throbbing feet and aching back were testimony to just how long a day it had been. She’d practically been standing since she’d come in that morning at nine and now it was just after five in the afternoon. Isabella had never been a ‘clock watcher’ but when you became a parent, she’d discovered, time took on a whole new meaning. It became infinitely precious. Now she was almost resentful of every second that she spent away from her little boy. Stealing another glance at the clock on the wall behind the long curved counter where she stood, she made a neat stack of the letters that needed to go out tonight on her way home and considered the compelling luxury of a long hot bath to ease her tired, aching limbs after she’d put Raphael to bed.
‘Cup of coffee?’
Her fair-haired colleague leaned over the counter, taking Isabella by surprise.
‘Becky! You startled me.’
‘Daydreaming about that baby of yours again?’ Becky grinned. Only just eighteen, the engaging teenager was on a day-release scheme from a local college and quite frankly her unflagging enthusiasm and willingness to learn had been invaluable to the library team. Isabella had grown quite fond of the girl.
‘One day you’ll know what it’s like.’ She smiled back, her dark eyes twinkling.
‘Not until I’m thirty-five at least! I want to have plenty of fun before I settle down and have a family. Anyway, how about that cup of coffee?’
‘That would be great …thanks.’
Isabella was reflecting on what Becky had said, asking herself if she’d relinquish ‘having fun’ if the choice were presented to her again over having a child, and decided immediately that there was really no contest. Raphael provided all the joy and fun she needed …Smiling to herself at the delicious feeling of warmth that flooded her being at the thought of her little boy’s sweet angelic face, Isabella lifted her gaze towards the swing doors of the entrance and the sight she saw there almost made her stop breathing …Leandro!
Was she dreaming? She blinked twice in rapid succession to make sure and was faced with the full, astounding reality of his flesh-and-blood presence. The palms of her hands flattened on the wooden counter needing the support. Even at the distance between them, those fascinating silvery eyes of his burned with a heat that made her feel weak. Wearing a long, fashionable black coat over an equally dark shirt and jeans, with his tousled hair, chiseled jaw and Mediterranean skin he brought an irresistible dangerous allure into the sedately benign surroundings of the public library. Isabella sensed her mouth turn dry as chalk as he approached and she knew that hers weren’t the only eyes to track his progress. The man was simply compelling …
‘Buenos días, Isabella.’
‘How—how did you find me?’
He smiled and Isabella saw a flash of white teeth and a sexy little dimple appear at one corner of his fascinating mouth. ‘I was working my way round all the libraries in the area, believe it or not. This is the third one I have tried …How fortunate is that?’
Isabella remembered telling him before they parted that she worked in Highgate. She wondered why he had left it eighteen months before coming to look for her. More than that, why had he come at all? Her stomach started to churn as her thoughts naturally turned to her son …Leandro’s son too.
‘I don’t understand what you’re doing here?’ she breathed, her hand unconsciously flattening against her belly, where tumult reigned supreme.
***
Isabella was definitely the sexiest librarian that Leandro had ever seen …Being so close to her again after eighteen long months, he felt his blood pound with helpless sensual excitement. It was clear by his extremely positive reaction that he had done the right thing in trying to find her. Now all he craved was the chance to be alone with her. He was impatient that she was here working, when all his instincts yearned to whisk her off somewhere and make love. His hungry gaze leisurely tracked her body in her dark green belted blouse and long black skirt. She was wearing her hair up too and Leandro longed to unpin it and see it cascade down over her shoulders. Anticipatory heat tightened his groin.
‘I wanted to see you again, of course.’
‘That’s a little hard to believe after so long,’ she answered defensively, a pink stain spreading on her cheeks.
He shrugged, convinced he could win her round. It might be arrogance on his part, but it was obvious to Leandro that he was definitely having an effect on her.
‘When do you finish work? We have to talk.’
‘“Have” to?’ Her dark eyes flashed her annoyance. ‘I don’t have to do anything that you want me to do! You didn’t even have the courtesy to give me your phone number when we said goodbye in Spain! Now you turn up as casually as though it were just yesterday we saw each other!’ She raised her voice, hissing her anger and people were looking. Isabella’s cheeks turned even pinker.
Leandro could not deny his own irritation in response. Perhaps he should not have been so quick to imagine that she would be glad to see him again, but he certainly had not expected to be openly castigated for seeking her out!
‘You know full well the reason I did not give you my number! But this is not the time and place for us to have this conversation. That should be in private when we are alone. What time do you finish here?’ he asked again, his silvery gaze almost fierce. Isabella sighed heavily and Leandro saw her charged breathing tighten her blouse a little across her breasts. He swallowed hard, watching her collect the little pile of white envelopes on the counter in front of her and hold them to her chest, almost as if to protect herself.
Isabella hardly trusted herself to speak. All she really wanted to do was go somewhere and have a good cry. But weeping would not accomplish anything and even though she’d flared up at Leandro about talking, they definitely needed to have a conversation! She had to tell him about his son. It had never been her decision to keep his existence a secret. Leandro was the one who had forced that decision on her by not giving Isabella his telephone number or at least somewhere where she might contact him and give him the news. She had longed to share with him that their passionate union that night had created a wonderful little boy, yet at the same time she had also dreaded it because she feared his reaction. If he had dismissed their time together as just another one-night stand, as Isabella was pretty sure Leandro had—then the last thing he would want to hear was that he had a son! But now that he had turned up in her life again, Isabella was experiencing confusion as well as anger.
‘I finish at five-thirty, but I need to go straight home tonight. If I give you my phone number perhaps we can arrange to meet tomorrow evening?’ She was only delaying their talk because she had to go to the nursery first and collect Raphael. That hardly gave her enough time to compose herself and think how she was going to break the astounding news to Leandro that he’d become a father! She saw the dismissive shake of his dark head with trepidation.
‘No. I do not want to wait until tomorrow to talk to you! If you need to go home first then I will wait until you finish and we will go back to your house together.’
Isabella had to think fast. She could see that Leandro was in no mood to be amenable about this, yet she desperately needed some time to get herself together! And she’d frankly rather talk to him first before letting him see Raphael. She wondered if she could prevail upon either Natasha or Chris to baby-sit?
Suddenly noticing Becky make her way past the long line of computers where the public utilised the Internet—the promised cup of coffee clasped between her hands—Isabella glanced pleadingly up into Leandro’s forbidding handsome gaze. ‘If you could give me a couple of hours to sort myself out, I can go home, do what I have to do, then meet you somewhere where we can talk? Please, Leandro …’
‘Why don’t you come to me then?’ he suggested, a flash of impatience in his eyes at having to wait to see her at all. Drawing an empty white envelope towards him, he wrote down an address. ‘A friend of mine has loaned me his house for a few days. We can talk, then go out to dinner.’
‘Okay …I’ll do that. I’ll come to you.’
‘Here you are!’ Becky put down the steaming beverage in front of Isabella, then glanced sidelong at Leandro. Immediately Isabella saw the interested gleam that stole into her bright blue eyes. She found herself praying that the teenager wouldn’t mention anything about Raphael. A public confrontation was the last thing she needed!
‘No biscuits, I’m afraid …but then that’s probably a blessing. Wouldn’t want to spoil our figures, now, would we?’ As the girl grinned flirtatiously Leandro ignored her to instead rest his gaze very deliberately on Isabella, letting it slide libidinously down her body and back again. Witnessing her obvious discomfort, he shrugged almost arrogantly. ‘That would indeed be a crime against nature …to spoil such beauty and perfection,’ he commented, his voice seductively lowered. Wrenching her gaze free with difficulty, Isabella addressed her younger colleague in a sharper voice than usual. ‘I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do before you leave at five-thirty, Becky, and so have I.’
She deliberately presented Leandro with her back to attend to some imaginary ‘necessary’ task, but not before she saw him push the envelope he’d written on further up the desk towards her …
CHAPTER FIVE
ISABELLA walked up and down the smart London street with its ‘perfect’ but way out of her price range terraced houses twice before plucking up the courage to ring the bell at the address that Leandro had given her. Number Sixty-six. Sixes and threes were always lucky for Isabella and she could certainly use some good fortune now, given the task ahead of her.
How would he take to the news that he was a father? Would he show her the door and tell her that he didn’t want anything to do with either her or their child ever again? Isabella told herself that she was quite prepared for such an eventuality even though it would be dreadfully hard to bear. Leandro was, after all, no ‘innocent’ party she was wilfully trying to implicate. They had both had an equal part in creating Isabella’s gorgeous little boy and it had been heartbreaking for her not to even be able to tell him about what had happened after she’d left the Port of Vigo and perhaps share the anxieties of her pregnancy and Raphael’s birth with him—instead of going it alone all this time.
Well …she’d learned a tough lesson but Isabella wasn’t resentful. How could she be when she had Raphael? Motherhood had definitely changed her for the better and she’d met the challenges with courage and resourcefulness. And although admittedly in an ideal world it would have been preferable and perhaps easier to be part of a couple, she had nonetheless become a very capable single parent. So, it wasn’t as though she needed Leandro’s help or intervention, was it? She was merely going to tell him the truth at last. Even though she’d no doubt be emotionally crushed by his rejection when confronted with it face to face …’Come on, Isabella, you can do this!’
Turning up the collar of her long winter coat to help fend off the freezing night air, she finally plucked up the courage to press the doorbell.
He had been like a man anticipating an urgent visit from his lawyer and a quick thankful release after being unlawfully detained in prison—such was Leandro’s impatience and insistent craving to see Isabella again. He could not remember the last time that he had done so much useless pacing in all his life! Picking up the screenplay that he had been in consultation with his script editor with for most of the morning, which—if he was honest—he was still vaguely unhappy with, he silently cursed his too distracted mind for making it almost impossible for him to concentrate. Rescuing the mug of strong black coffee that he’d made himself earlier, which was rapidly chilling since his thoughts had been so preoccupied, he settled himself determinedly in his friend Richard’s agreeably comfortable high-backed armchair and struck his long legs out towards the fire blazing in the Edwardian fireplace. Resting his bare feet on the matching well-used footstool, he endeavoured to overcome his persistent preoccupation and try to relax instead. But it was just too hard to stop thinking about Isabella.
Seeing her at the library earlier had activated a need in him that he could scarce believe. Had he ever felt this agitated about seeing a particular woman before? He didn’t think so …In fact nearly all of his previous girlfriends had accused him of being far too aloof and distant and not nearly as attentive as they would like …including the girl who had betrayed him with another man. When the doorbell sounded suddenly, chiming its incongruous cheerful tune throughout the house, Leandro bit back a relieved curse and levered his athletic frame with fluid ease out of his chair. Discarding the too cold mug of coffee on a small side-table, he drew in his breath and padded out in his bare feet to the sedately decorated corridor to answer the door. ‘Sedate’ because he’d wryly observed that the English seemed to have something against the use of bright vivid colour in their homes. Maybe it was something to do with the long months of ‘grey’ weather they had to endure?
Madre mia! Leandro’s second sighting of Isabella’s smiling but apprehensive beautiful face in the space of two short hours set his heart to racing. A surge of pleasure so profound captivating him, he found himself momentarily at a loss for words.
