Читать книгу His Unknown Heir - Шантель Шоу, Chantelle Shaw - Страница 8

LAUREN arrived at the restaurant at two minutes to one. From his vantage point seated at the bar Ramon watched her slip out of her coat and hand it to the waiter, who had sprung to attendance the moment she walked through the door. Her smile was a killer, he mused. He had never met anyone who could resist its warmth.

Her hair was still swept up into an elegant chignon, and her designer suit and heels were the uniform of a busy professional—a corporate lawyer with a high-flying career. But he remembered the other Lauren. The passionate and sensual woman who had responded to his lovemaking with such sweet eagerness. As she walked towards him Ramon fought the fierce urge to tug the pins from her hair, bury his fingers in the silky mass and hold her captive while he claimed her mouth until she melted against him.

‘Ramon.’

He stood up as she reached his side, faintly irritated that while the waiter had received a smile he did not. ‘As punctual as ever,’ he murmured.

‘It would be extremely unprofessional to be late for an appointment with a client,’ she replied crisply.

A subtle reminder that business was the only reason she had agreed to have lunch with him? Ramon felt a spurt of amusement at Lauren’s determination to put him in his place, but he also acknowledged a strong desire to shake her equilibrium.

‘Our table is ready.’ He paused, and then added softly, ‘It’s a pity it’s not summer; we could have eaten outside as we used to. Remember, Lauren?’

Her eyes flew to his face. Of course she remembered, Lauren thought shakily. The memories of the good times they had shared during their affair were ingrained in her mind for ever. The Vine had been one of their favourite haunts, and they had frequently dined here before returning to Ramon’s penthouse apartment to sate another kind of hunger. The sex had been urgent, intense, and unbelievably erotic—a sensual nirvana that was beyond anything she could ever have imagined.

But it had just been sex. Without strings or the expectation of commitment or emotion. At least it had for Ramon, she thought bleakly. For her it had become something infinitely precious, and the realisation that she had fallen in love with him was one reason why she had left him.

A waiter led them to their table. ‘What would you like to drink?’ Ramon enquired when they were seated.

‘Iced water, please. And I’d like the Dover sole with new potatoes.’ Forgoing a starter and dessert meant that, with luck, lunch should last no longer than thirty minutes.

The waiter departed with their order and she glared across the table. ‘What are you playing at, Ramon?’

Dark brows rose slightly at the sharpness of her tone, but he did not immediately reply, instead surveying her flushed face with a speculative gleam in his eyes that lit a flame to her temper.

‘Why did you invite me here?’ she demanded.

‘You know why. I wish to discuss a business venture with my new legal advisor.’ He paused, and then added laconically, ‘I admit I chose the Vine for purely nostalgic reasons. We shared some good times here.’

‘I have no desire to take a trip down memory lane,’ she said shortly. ‘We’ve both moved on.’

Ramon stared at Lauren speculatively, aware of the surreptitious glances she had been darting at him. The chemistry was still there, simmering beneath the surface of her cool façade, but the faint tremor of her mouth warned of her determination to fight her awareness of him. For now it was enough to know that he bothered her. He controlled the urge to walk around the table and kiss her into submission, and instead turned his attention to the approaching waiter.

Lauren gave a sigh of relief when their meals were served. The fish was delicious, but she was so acutely conscious of Ramon that her appetite deserted her after a few forkfuls.

‘I ran a few preliminary checks on the properties you are interested in, and I can see possible problems with two of them,’ she explained, taking the folder of notes from her briefcase. ‘The property in Chancery Lane is a Grade II listed building, which means it is of historic interest and you would need to apply for special building consent to do any kind of refurbishment. The property in Jermyn Street has a short lease. I’ve spoken to the company who own the freehold and have learned that they would consider extending the lease. But obviously that would have to be negotiated.’

Ramon speared his last forkful of steak and savoured it before replying. ‘Your efficiency is commendable.’

‘That, presumably, is the reason you hired me.’

‘One of the reasons.’ He met her glare with a bland smile. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed their verbal sparring, and their conversations about everything from the arts to topical news items.

‘Alistair Gambrill thinks highly of you,’ he commented. ‘Eighteen months ago I remember you had only recently moved to PGH from another law firm, and now I understand that you are being considered for promotion. You must have worked hard to make such a positive impression on the senior partners.’

Lauren threw him a sharp glance, wondering if he was being sarcastic. Her dedication to her job and her refusal to cut down on the long hours she worked had been the only source of friction between them during their affair. Ramon had made it clear that he expected her to be at his beck and call, while she had been infuriated by his chauvinistic attitude and had not held back from telling him so.

He had never understood that her single-minded focus on her career stemmed from an almost obsessive need for financial independence, and a determination never to be reliant on anyone—as her mother had been on her father. But how could he have understood, when she had never told him about her parents’ bitter divorce, or that her father had abandoned his family for his mistress and left his wife and daughter virtually penniless?

‘The move to PGH has certainly given me an opportunity to further my career,’ she agreed. ‘And I work hard at my job.’

He could not know that she felt pressurised to work harder than her contemporaries. Discovering that she was pregnant a month after she had started at PGH had meant that her career had no longer been a choice but a necessity as she faced life as a single mother.

Anxious to prove her worth to Alistair Gambrill and the other senior partners, she had continued to work long hours. Fortunately Mateo’s birth had been straightforward, and three months later she had returned to work full-time, afraid that lengthy maternity leave would be detrimental to her chances of promotion in the male-dominated, highly competitive world of corporate law.

She took a sip of water, fiddled restlessly with her napkin, and then said abruptly, ‘I’m sorry about your father.’ Ramon had always been reluctant to discuss his personal life, and she knew little about his family, but Esteban Velaquez had been a prominent politician in the Spanish government and his death had been reported worldwide.

She did not expect him to comment, and was surprised when, after a long pause, he admitted, ‘It was a shock. Cancer had been diagnosed six months earlier, but after surgery his prognosis was good. Unfortunately the disease returned in a more aggressive form and there was nothing more the doctors could do. My mother has taken his death badly,’ he continued heavily. ‘My parents had been married for over forty years and she is heartbroken.’

His mother’s grief had been as much a shock as the loss of his father, Ramon conceded silently. He had assumed that his parents’ marriage had been a union between two influential Spanish families—an arrangement that had developed into a contented relationship based on mutual friendship and respect. But after witnessing Marisol Velaquez’s raw despair as she wept for her husband he had realised that it had been love that had bound his parents together for almost half a century—the kind of profound and everlasting love that poets wrote sonnets about and which he had cynically doubted existed in real life.

Lauren stared at Ramon’s handsome face and felt her stomach dip. He was impossibly gorgeous, but she was not the first woman to be blown away by his sexy good-looks and she certainly would not be the last. Since Esteban Velaquez’s death, the press had frequently reported on the playboy lifestyle of his only son and heir. Ramon had been photographed with a number of women—in particular a well-known catwalk model, Pilar Fernandez, who was the daughter of a Spanish aristocrat and whose impeccable pedigree was reflected in her exquisite features. The pictures of Ramon and beautiful Pilar had reinforced Lauren’s belief that he would not be interested in his illegitimate child.