Читать книгу At The Spaniard's Pleasure - Jacqueline Baird - Страница 8

‘FIRE MOUNTAIN; I can see why,’ Liza said softly, staring around in awe. After a brief visit to a building site, Nick had driven Liza into the national park, passing a trail of about fifty camels, provided to give rides to the tourists. But Nick had taken them up into what looked like a lunar landscape. At first she had thought it was the sun shining off the lava that made it appear red, but the further they went she realised it was the rock itself that was red.

Nick stopped the Jeep and lifted her down, keeping one hand around her waist, and she stood in the crook of his arm, not sure which affected her the most—the man or the mountains. She had never seen or felt anything like it in her life. Craters, some huge, some small, the rock red and black and even a trace of green, but not a blade of grass grew there, and the silence was almost spiritual.

‘Impressive, hmm?’ Nick prompted. ‘Some people thought the gods were laughing when the eruptions started on April the first in 1730. It is known as the greatest volcanic holocaust ever witnessed. Thirty-two volcanoes rose up and erupted, spewing forth great quantities of molten rock.’ His hand tightened around her waist, his fingers against the bare skin of her midriff guiding her towards a view of five mountains in a line. ‘Those five erupted one after the other like Chinese firecrackers apparently. What finally wiped out most of the vegetation was the last eruption in the 1850s.’

Liza felt a bit like erupting herself; she had never been so conscious of a man in her life. She had had boyfriends and one she actually thought she loved, until they’d got engaged and made love for the first time and it was a disaster as far as Liza was concerned, and the end of the relationship. No man had ever affected her the way Nick’s simplest touch seemed to do. She had to make a deliberate effort to fight down the stirrings of desire just the sound of his voice aroused in her. Ruthlessly she clamped down on her wayward thoughts, and turned in his hold to look up at him. ‘I have never seen anything like it; it is absolutely fascinating.’ She smiled.

His heavy-lidded eyes darkened softly on her upturned face. ‘So are you, Liza.’

Suddenly the atmosphere was thick with tension. Liza was aware of his hand on her bare midriff, his fingers flexing on her skin, and she knew he was going to kiss her, and then to her surprise he stepped back, setting her free.

‘But you ain’t seen nothing yet,’ Nick joked in a mock-American accent.

Hell! He had almost kissed her. How could he even think of making love with Liza Summers until he knew exactly what she was? The answer came with a tightening in his groin, and, shoving a hand in his trouser pocket, he spun around. ‘Come on back to the Jeep.’

She did not know whether she was disappointed or relieved, but from then on the atmosphere between them slipped back into the easygoing camaraderie of years ago.

Nick was an excellent guide and drove them to another tourist vantage point set high in the weird hills. First he dropped some gravel in her hands that was red hot, and she squealed in surprise, and then they watched as an attendant dropped a bush down a ten-foot hole and it immediately caught fire. Then they walked up to the Vulcano restaurant, the only building for miles around.

‘I don’t believe it.’ She shook her head, her blue eyes laughing up at Nick. They were standing by a large circular well in the restaurant, the heat from the earth below rising to barbecue the chicken pieces spread on the iron grill on top.

‘Believe it.’ Nick took her arm and led her into the dining room. ‘You can’t visit Lanzarote and not eat volcano-grilled chicken.’

He was right and lunch was a jovial affair shared with dozens of tourists. Liza was amazed how well Nick mixed in; she would not have thought it his scene at all. The jet set were his usual companions according to gossip. But she did not have time to dwell on the point as Nick drove her all around the island. They stopped at a small lagoon, and then it was on again to a great volcanic tunnel and deep caves with pools where tiny blind white crabs lived, the only place on earth other than miles deep in the sea.

Back in the Jeep, the daylight quickly failing, Liza turned laughing eyes up to Nick. ‘I can see why you have a villa here; you really love this place.’ The hours had flown— Liza had had a great day, and the company had been superb, and all the better for being so unexpected.

‘Yes, I come here a lot; it is ideal, as one of my hobbies is seismology,’ Nick admitted honestly; he wanted her to feel secure with him and by giving a little more of himself he might get her to trust him, and reveal the depths of her own involvement with the thieves, if any… She was the daughter of his mother’s best friend, for heaven’s sake, and the longer he spent with Liza the more difficult he found it to believe she was guilty of anything underhand. It was up to him to discover the truth of her involvement, but he was beginning to think she was the unwitting messenger for her sleazy boss.

‘That figures, I suppose.’ Liza grinned; his effect on her was certainly seismic, she thought privately. And in a way it made sense; at thirty-five perhaps he had swapped extreme sports to study the extremes of nature. ‘But do we have to see everything in one day?’ she asked, hoping Nick would take the hint and ask her out again.

Nick glanced at her smiling face, his hooded eyes masking his expression. Her lips were begging to be kissed and it took every bit of will-power he possessed to resist the temptation; it was too soon… He needed to make sure her information had been correct. But whether it was or not, his mind was made up—he was going to give Liza the benefit of the doubt. He did not think for a moment she was aware of it, but by coming to Lanzarote she had inadvertently got mixed up with some very nasty criminals, and he was going to do everything in his power to protect her, whether she wanted him to or not. He owed it to their years of friendship, and their mothers’.

‘No, of course not. I’ll take you back to your hotel now as I have some business to attend to.’ He read the flicker of disappointment in her brilliant blue eyes, and almost gave in. His gaze dipped to her mouth, the full, sensuous lips, and he ached to taste them with his own, had done all day… Dios! He needed to get a grip—business before pleasure… Later, he promised himself…

Everything was going according to plan. He had kept Liza out of the way all day, and the information she had given him, which he had passed on to Carl over the phone this morning, should have been acted on by now. He needed to contact Carl Dalk again to discover what had happened. ‘I’ll call back for you at eight and take you to dinner.’ And his lips curled in amused satisfaction at the open relief in her smile.

‘Nick. Hi. Your information was correct.’ Nick Menendez lounged back in the chair at his desk in the study, and listened as Carl’s slightly harassed-sounding tones filled the room.

‘We visited the opticians and questioned the receptionist, and picked up Daidolas at his home and found the diamonds on him. He sang like a bird. He was a jeweller before he was an optician; he does the valuation and passes the information on to an intermediary in Morocco who makes the arrangements to contact the insurance company, and do the deal.’

‘So we have them,’ Nick prompted.

‘Not quite. As you know, Henry Brown is the top man. He arranges everything, his company charters a yacht in Marbella on the Spanish mainland, a different one each time, ostensibly for corporate entertainment. But in reality he has the captain pick up the diamonds at appointed places on the African coast and then transport them to Lanzarote.’

Nick grimaced; he had been hoping like hell Liza was not involved, but it wasn’t looking good for her. Knowingly or not she had delivered the diamonds. ‘So we pick up Henry Brown,’ he said quickly.

‘Eventually, yes; apparently Brown’s one weakness is he cannot resist checking the diamonds himself before they are passed to the optician for valuation. Plus he obviously does not trust the middleman he uses to do the exchange, because on every previous occasion he has been in the same vicinity ready to receive the cash when the deal is done.’

‘So what’s the problem, Carl?’ Nick asked. ‘You have him under surveillance; when the time is right, take him.’

‘If only it was that easy,’ Carl said drily. ‘Unfortunately we have lost track of him.’

‘You’ve what?’ Nick jerked upright in the chair. ‘How the hell did you manage that? I thought you had the police trailing him.’

‘Don’t yell at me, partner, and we did. They watched him collect the package last night from a yacht in the marina at Teguise, and they knew he had handed it on to the woman this morning.’ Nick’s frown deepened; he did not like hearing Liza referred to as the woman, but he listened as Carl continued. ‘They watched as Brown left in the same yacht this morning, but somehow he outsmarted them, vanished off the radar screen. But I doubt very much the thieving bastard sank.’

‘We’ve lost him,’ Nick groaned.

‘Not to worry, the local police and I have a plan. In the past two incidences, about a week or ten days after the initial contact with the insurance company the cash and diamonds were exchanged once in Morocco and once at sea, as you know. But this time, by some not so friendly questioning of Daidolas we know the exchange is going to be made in Lanzarote. He also gave us the names of a couple of local sailors who have crewed for Brown in the past. The police are tracking them down as we speak. It is only a matter of time and with Daidolas’s help, and the promise of leniency, we have set a trap. We are going to keep him locked up over the weekend to give him a taste of what to expect if he does not do as we say, and set him free on Monday under very close supervision. When the deal is done Brown will turn up to cash in, and hopefully we will get the whole gang.’

‘It still does not alter the fact you lost him,’ Nick almost groaned.

‘Hey, it’s not that bad, Nick; as long as you still have the girl, the police can question her—she is bound to know something.’

Nick’s whole body tensed. His immediate reaction was one of outrage at the thought of Liza being taken to a police station and body-searched before being questioned and probably ending up in a cell. The outrage was followed by a completely alien emotion for him—fear, and then a surge of cold, hard anger. Not if he could help it, he vowed. He closed his eyes briefly and counted to ten, fighting to stay calm before responding casually, ‘You can safely leave the girl to me, Carl. If she knows anything at all I will tell you—I am meeting her for dinner later.’

‘You’re what?’ Carl’s voice rose a notch. ‘Are you crazy? You’ve left her on her own; she could be miles away by now…she could warn Brown, and the whole deal will go pear-shaped.’

‘Come on, Carl, I can assure you Liza will be ready and waiting when I go to pick her up. Have you ever known my Menendez charm to fail?’ Nick drawled mockingly. ‘A woman has never run away from me in my life, and I can assure you that, after spending the day with Liza, she is no exception.’ And he prayed his friend would buy it. He did not question why. He just knew he did not want Liza falling into the police’s or Carl’s clutches, friend or not.

A husky chuckle greeted Nick’s comment. ‘You’re right, but this is vital, Nick. Make damn sure you get the woman. We need to know where Brown has gone and when he will be back.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Nick ran his free hand distractedly through his dark hair, and was glad they were not on video-phone. ‘I’ll do what it takes to get the information and call you back later with the information you want.’

‘You’re being very noble. “Do what it takes”,’ he mocked. ‘Good-looking, is she?’

‘Certainly no hardship,’ Nick joked back. ‘Speak to you later.’ And he cut the connection, his face as black as thunder.

Striding into the living room, he poured a large measure of whisky into a crystal glass, raised it to his mouth and took a long, fiery drink.

But still a cold knot formed in Nick’s belly. Liza Summers; he was not sure if she was guilty or not. The child he had known had been embarrassingly honest. But the beautiful, sophisticated woman of twenty-five she had become… That was a different question. It was perfectly possible she lived by her wits and stunning looks, and her job was just a cover for stealing. On the other hand she could be completely innocent, and, as she had implied, simply following her boss’s orders…

He knew he had to question her tonight about Henry Brown, and he also knew he should instruct his people to look into the state of her finances, but somehow he could not bring himself to do it. Maybe because he still held cherished memories of the child she had been.

Nick snorted in disgust and spun round. Who the hell was he kidding? He had taken one look at Liza today, and his body had reacted like a teenager. He had kept her out of the way all day for her own sake, and his if he was honest. Carl would have quite happily had her arrested this morning. Liza was beautiful, granted, but then all Nick’s women were beautiful, and he had never felt the slightest need to protect them. So why Liza Summers?

He could tell himself it was for her mother’s sake, to avoid the embarrassment a court case would cause, but that was only part of his reasoning. There was no point in pretending; along with surely every man on the planet, he wanted Liza for himself. He had walked around all day in a semi-permanent state of arousal, and he ached with frustration. Right at this moment he would not care if Liza was the biggest thief in Christendom, if he could get her in his bed.

There, he had admitted it. Nick scowled as he lifted the glass in his hand to his mouth again and drained the whisky from it then slammed it down on a convenient table.

Now, get over it…he told himself and walked out of the house, his aristocratic features as hard as granite and his heavy-lidded eyes equally as stony as he slid into the waiting car.

Three hours later, rested and showered, Liza walked back into her bedroom and surveyed the clothes she had brought with her. Excitement and anticipation bubbled in her veins like the finest champagne. She tried to keep a lid on her emotions, but it was difficult, for the first time in years, she was really looking forward to going out with a man. She fantasised in her mind how the night would progress—a candlelit meal somewhere romantic, with a deep conversation verging on the intimate, a few gentle caresses and at evening’s end perhaps a kiss, or even more…

She shivered delectably, and took a fourth outfit from the wardrobe. Nick was attracted to her, she knew it, and for once she allowed herself to think of a relationship with a man—not just any man, but Nick Menendez.

He had explained why he had yelled at her at sixteen, it was simply because of her age, and she could understand that even though she did not agree with his chauvinistic attitude. But now he saw her as a mature, sophisticated woman, and he was interested. She had seen it in his eyes, in his touch, and this time she was going to take the chance, and to pot with the consequences. Who knew, she thought optimistically, this could be the start of something big…?

Liza finally settled on a sleeveless, figure-hugging black jersey-silk dress. She slipped it over her shoulders; the bodice crossed over between her breasts and tied around her narrow waist, the wrap-around skirt ending a couple of inches above her knees. But, mindful the nights could be chilly, she added a pashmina shawl in silver-grey.

She left her long hair loose and straight, and with the addition of one more coat of lip-gloss she was ready. She stood back from the mirror. Not bad, she thought, and slipped her feet into high-heeled sandals. She was reaching for her clutch bag when the telephone rang.

It was Reception to say a Niculoso Menendez had arrived. Her heart did a funny little jig in her chest, and, taking a deep breath, she closed the door behind her and crossed to the elevator, her blue eyes sparkling with excited anticipation at the evening ahead.

Liza walked out of the elevator, and saw him immediately. He was leaning against the reception desk, laughing at something the attractive receptionist had said to him. To her surprise she felt a swift stab of something very like jealousy, and just as quickly a stomach-curling pleasure as he turned and saw her.

His firm lips parted over gleaming white teeth in a slow, sensual smile. Liza had thought he looked great in jeans, but, dressed with unexpected severity in a superbly tailored dark suit with a white shirt and plain dark tie, the man possessed a lethal, predatory aura, a supreme confidence in his masculinity that made every fine hair on her skin stand erect.

She couldn’t help it; she watched with total fascination as his big, powerfully muscled body moved towards her with a lithe arrogance that made her pulse race with excitement.

He stopped an arm’s length away, and Liza swallowed hard. So the man was incredibly handsome, sinfully sexy, and her insides felt as if they were dissolving but it was only a chemical reaction, just lust, she told herself, plain and simple. She was no longer the adoring child who hung on to his every word, but a successful career woman. Involuntarily Liza straightened her shoulders, and stood a little taller. She could handle a date with Nick, and without having a fit of the vapours, she scolded herself, and tilted her chin assertively.

‘Nick, so sorry to keep you waiting.’

‘You are worth any wait, Liza,’ Nick opined throatily. His dark eyes travelled over her from her hair, her face, lower to linger on her cleavage, revealed by the neckline of her dress, and down over her body and her long, shapely legs to her feet, then back to her face. ‘You look stunning.’ His eyes, gleaming with all-male appreciation, caught and held hers.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, her breath lodged in her throat as she dragged her gaze away from his, and asked in a desperate attempt to free herself from the electrifying sensations he aroused in her and be her usual assertive self, ‘I don’t know where you planned on eating, but I thought, seeing as you showed me around today, perhaps you would like to be my guest for dinner, in the hotel.’

His firm lips quirked in a crooked smile. ‘Call me old-fashioned,’ he reached out and cupped her elbow with his hand, ‘but when I ask a lady out to dine I make the arrangements, and I’m sure you won’t be disappointed,’ he said, amusement colouring his tone, and, dropping his hand from her elbow to circle her waist, he held her to his side and turned towards the exit, taking control.

He felt her slender body tremble and stiffen and glanced knowingly down at her. ‘I thought we could eat at my villa if you have no objection. Plus you will be doing me a big favour, as my housekeeper loves to cook but I very rarely have any guests to dine when I am here.’

Liza flicked him a bright if strained smile; being held close to his hard body was playing havoc with the cool sophistication she wanted to display. ‘Your place is fine,’ she agreed. ‘So long as the food is not cooked over a volcano like lunch,’ she tried to joke. ‘It could be dangerous.’

‘Good.’ Nick dropped his hand and stood back to let her through the foyer door. Nowhere near as dangerous as sharing a suite with your boss, he thought sardonically as he immediately followed her out. The very obliging receptionist had quite happily given him the information. He reached an arm around her shoulders and led her to where the car waited at the kerb, and if his grip was a little hard he had good reason.

Liza felt the touch of his fingers, and repressed a sensual shiver. Nick was a very tactile man, and it was playing hell with her hormones, she thought as a wave of heat scorched her face, but that was all it was—sexual attraction—on her part. That was all it could be, a simple feminine reaction to his raw masculine sexuality. ‘No Jeep tonight,’ she commented, striving for lightness as they crossed the pavement.

‘No,’ Nick said shortly.

Then she noticed a man get out of the car and grin at them both as he opened the rear door of the car. Liza shot Nick a startled glance. ‘A chauffeur.’

‘Yes. Tonight I want to relax and enjoy my dinner with a beautiful woman and share a few glasses of champagne in comfort.’ No need to mention he had already downed two very large whiskies because of the dilemma she had created in his usually very well-ordered life. ‘And don’t worry, I think you will love the meal. Greta is the best cook on the island.’ He smiled and lifted a hand casually to flick a strand of her hair over her shoulder and his darkening gaze trapped hers.

She swallowed hard and had trouble speaking. ‘I’m sure you are right,’ she managed, tearing her gaze away from his and stepping towards the car.

Liza slid quickly into the car with more haste than elegance, sinking into a seat that was a lot more comfortable than Nick’s Jeep. But when Nick moved in beside her she realised it was also a lot more intimate as a hard masculine thigh pressed against her own, and a long arm was casually flung around her shoulders yet again.

‘Nice car,’ she mumbled, intensely aware of his leashed strength, the subtle male scent of the man, and wondered for the umpteenth time what she was doing, playing with fire. But she had been doing that all day both physically and metaphorically, she realised with a wry smile.

The villa turned out to be a magnificent building that oozed wealth and elegance. Nick introduced her to a middle-aged couple waiting in the entrance foyer, Greta and Paul. And beyond them she could see a glass wall that opened on to a floodlit swimming pool, she glimpsed tables and chairs and wondered if they were to eat outside. It wasn’t that warm.

She lifted her puzzled gaze to Nick. ‘Are we eating outside?’

‘Dios! No.’ His ebony brows arched in surprise. ‘What you English think is warm we consider winter.’ And, taking her arm, he led her through into a massive room. ‘This is the main living area, but the dining room is more cosy,’ he said softly.

Liza gazed around the vast room as he urged her across it. Soft deep sofas, exquisite antique furniture, glorious paintings on the walls, and vibrant flowers and plants—the place screamed money, and she was rapidly beginning to feel out of her depth.

Nick pushed open another door, and Liza stopped dead one foot inside the room.

A magnificent table about twenty feet long was set for two, and Greta and Paul were now standing by the table, smiling.

‘I’d hardly call this cosy!’ she exclaimed with a chuckle. ‘You could serve the Last Supper at that table and then some.’

Nick’s mouth quirked at the corners in a grin at Liza’s stunned expression, and, slipping his arm around her waist, he led her forward. ‘I suppose it is a bit imposing; I hadn’t really noticed as I usually eat in the kitchen.’ He gave her waist a brief squeeze before setting her free, but stayed close to her side. He heard her breath catch and saw the deepening colour in her brilliant eyes, and allowed a small, satisfied smile to curve his lips before adding, ‘But I so rarely have anyone to dine here that Greta wanted to push the boat out, as you say.’

Nick leant over slightly to say something to the other couple that Liza, although she spoke Spanish, didn’t catch. She watched as they left the room then Nick straightened up to his full, impressive height, and turned to face her again, pulling out a chair.

‘Please, Liza, sit down, and don’t look so wary; I can assure you, Paul and Greta won’t poison you.’

It wasn’t the food Liza was worried about; it was much too hot in here, she told herself, and it had absolutely nothing to do with Nick. She reached for the edge of her shawl, and immediately Nick’s hand caught it and slipped it off her shoulders.

‘A little warm for you, Liza?’ he queried with the arch of a black brow.

‘Yes,’ she got out, having difficulty breathing as the backs of his knuckles brushed down over her breasts as he removed her shawl, but not by the blink of an eye did she let it show. Instead she sat down on the chair he offered and folded her hands primly in her lap, her fingernails digging into her palms.

Liza wasn’t afraid to be alone with Nick—in fact, if she was honest she liked the idea. She had enjoyed his company all day, more so than that of any other man she had ever met, and she was secretly flattered that he wanted to be alone with her.

‘Now, isn’t this nice?’ Nick remarked, pulling out a chair and sitting down. ‘So much more intimate than a restaurant, don’t you think?’ Shovelling on the charm by the bucket-load, he picked up the linen napkin in front of her and flicked it open.

‘I can do that.’ She reached for the linen.

‘But I want to,’ Nick said softly and, leaning forward, his dark eyes holding her startled blue, he spread the linen napkin over her lap, his hands deliberately smoothing the fabric over her stomach and thighs. ‘Greta is going to serve the meal in a minute.’ His glance roamed over her face and figure with obvious male approval that, had it been any other man, would have made her angry, but instead the lingering touch of his fingers on her thighs made her whole body tingle with excitement.

‘I am hungry, and I’m sure you are too,’ Nick drawled with silken emphasis.

She tensed at the impact of his compelling dark gaze. Was it just food he was hungry for? Dear heaven, her own appetite had been seriously depleted by the erotic thoughts Nick aroused in her. She felt as if a thousand butterflies were partying in her stomach, and she tore her eyes away from his and cast a slightly panicked look around the room.

What were her options? Get up and walk out? But that would be childish. Or stay and eat like a civilised woman? Suddenly she was no longer feeling quite so confident. But her mind was made up for her as Greta reappeared carrying a large silver tureen, followed by Paul carrying a bottle of champagne in a silver wine bucket. They both smiled at her.