Читать книгу A Deal Before the Altar - Rachael Thomas, Rachael Thomas - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

GEORGINA WOKE WITH a start. Her heart thumped in her chest like a hammer as she tried to blink away the images that had haunted her sleep. Images of Santos kissing her, wanting her. Images that had heated her body as surely as if he had spent the night next to her.

She dragged in a sharp breath and looked around the room, different now the calm light of dawn was casting its glow. Her jade dress was draped over a chair, just where she’d left it, and she pulled the sheet tighter against her, feeling suddenly naked in her underwear.

Waking up in a man’s bed, even if it was only the guest bed, was something she wasn’t used to. She groaned at the thought of the field-day the press would have if they ever found out.

She hadn’t given a thought to the morning as she’d left the party last night. Her mind had been elsewhere, thanks to Santos’s charm attack.

In that moment she knew she couldn’t face him. There was only one option. She had to leave now.

Could she make a quick getaway? The thought raced into her head and quickly she flung back the sheet and grabbed her dress. The silk was cool against her skin as she stepped into it and embarrassment washed over her as she thought of all those who’d know about this walk of shame.

She would be able to slip away without seeing Santos, she reassured herself, especially at this early hour.

She washed her face in the en-suite bathroom, trying hard to remove the traces of last night’s make-up before applying fresh mascara and lipstick—all she’d been able to fit into her evening bag.

At the bedroom door she paused, took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart to calm before slowly opening it. Silence greeted her and she smiled, sure she was going to be able to slip away. With her bag in her hand and sandals dangling from her fingers she closed the door and padded softly along the wooden floor of the hallway, but as she entered the vast open living space the smell of strong coffee greeted her.

Her heart sank.

Someone was up.

Did Santos have a housekeeper who prepared breakfast for him? Yes, that must be it. Could she slip out without whoever it was in the kitchen noticing her? Quietly she walked across the huge room, feeling more like an intruder with every step.

‘Going somewhere?’

The deep, seductive tones of Santos’s voice halted her in her tracks. She turned to look at him and tried not to react to the sexy image he created in denims and a shirt. Casual suited him. But she didn’t want to dwell on that now.

‘Home, of course.’ She kept her voice bright, as if this scenario was one she was familiar with, and met his gaze. Lifting her chin, she made every effort to appear totally indifferent to him—which was hard when he stood before her, cool and powerful, just like the man who had haunted her through her dreams last night.

‘This early?’ He pushed back the cuff of his shirt and looked at his watch, a small smile lingering on his lips. ‘I think you have time for a coffee first. Even the most hardened shoppers aren’t about this early on a Saturday.’

‘It’s not the shoppers I’m worried about,’ she said with a huff of exasperation. ‘Emma will be wondering where I am.’

‘Precisely.’

The curt word made her blink, and despite her need to get away she walked towards him. As she did so Santos turned and headed back into the kitchen, its sleek design as contemporary as the rest of the apartment.

‘How do you take your coffee?’

‘This is a game to you, isn’t it?’ She really wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. ‘We were seen leaving the party together and your housekeeper will know I’ve spent the night. I think that is enough, don’t you?’

Santos didn’t answer, and she found herself mesmerised as he poured the coffee. In her chest her heart was pounding, and a whole stream of butterflies had taken flight in her stomach.

It’s not him, she told herself firmly. It’s just that you haven’t been in this situation for years. It was exactly this kind of awkward morning-after she had witnessed her mother and her lovers enduring, and exactly what she’d then gone and done herself as a naive young woman. But she’d changed, and repeating her past wasn’t something she wanted to do.

‘Try this.’ He took her sandals and bag from her and replaced them with a steaming mug of black coffee. ‘And even if my housekeeper had seen you—assuming she was working, that is—I would expect nothing other than her discretion.’

He smiled at her, and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered ever more wildly, but before she could respond he continued, ‘At least no one will know you didn’t sleep in my bed. That would really upset our plans.’

Georgina’s fingers burned, and she was sure it wasn’t just the mug of hot liquid in her hands. His touch, brief as it was, had jolted her with a voltage more powerful than any coffee. She took a sip—anything other than stand and look at him, fearing that if she did he would see just what an effect he was having on her.

‘We left the party together. It will have to be enough.’ She instilled as much courage into her voice as she could muster, which was difficult given the way her body now tingled.

Purposefully he moved past her, to place her shoes beneath a small ornamental table and drop her bag onto its glossy surface. His expression when he turned back to her was one of guarded control.

‘I’m not a man to do things by half, Georgina. If I do something, I do it properly.’ He stepped closer to her, the fresh scent of pine and his dark hair still slightly damp evidence that he’d recently showered.

She thought of his kiss last night at the party. The feel of his lips on hers, the way she hadn’t been able to do anything other than sway towards him, and knew he was right. He didn’t do anything by halves.

‘I’m sure you don’t, Mr Ramirez—’

‘Santos,’ he interrupted, his voice firm as he moved towards her.

He was coming so near she had to brace herself against the urge to move closer to him. The desire to experience his kiss just once more was almost overwhelming. She clung to her cup of coffee as if it were a lifeline.

Distance was what she needed. Distance was the safest option. She stepped back, out of the shadow of his power. She didn’t know what was the matter with her—she’d never experienced this before. It was insane. Of all the men to find herself attracted to, why did it have to be this man? She furrowed her brow.

‘If you don’t use my name, who is going to believe this charade of yours?’

He raised his brow in question at her. Did he really think he could get the better of her so easily?

‘You appear to be taking this far more seriously than me,’ she goaded, and took another sip of her coffee before placing it on the table. Then, turning to look directly at him, she added for good measure, ‘Santos.’

‘You can be assured of that, querida.’

His lips—the ones that had set light to a trail of heady need as he’d kissed her last night—spread into a smile of the kind that made his dark eyes sparkle, full of triumph.

‘I have as much to gain from this deal as you do.’

‘More, if your commitment to it is anything to go by.’ The words flew from her before she’d had time to think. She had to remember her goal—the sole reason she’d even approached this man in the first place. Antagonising him could put it all in jeopardy.

He didn’t respond with words, but she saw his expression change. The smile still lingered, but granite hardness blazed from his eyes and he folded his arms across his chest, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders.

‘Which is why I have made plans for us to go to Spain.’

Shock coursed through her body, leaving her almost gasping for air, as if she’d been plunged into a cold sea. ‘Why Spain? We can stay in London. Spend the weekend here together quite easily.’ She almost spluttered the last words. ‘Why do we need to go to Spain?’

Santos watched as her brown eyes widened in shock and decided he preferred her with less make-up. Her soft skin looked fresh, and he fought hard against that unfamiliar urge to reach out and brush his finger against it, feel its softness.

Mentally he shook himself. The morning after was always a time to be brief—a quick goodbye had never failed him before. So why did he want to keep her here? Was it because this morning wasn’t a normal morning-after? His body still fizzed with need, despite the cold shower he’d forced himself to stand under after he’d woken alone, knowing she was there, in his apartment, as untouchable as if she was the other side of the world.

‘My home is in Spain, and if we are to be married I can cut through the red tape far more easily there.’

He heard her sharp intake of breath, saw her shoulders stiffen. His gaze was drawn to the way the jade silk clung to her body. She was as desirable in the morning light as she’d looked in the subdued lights of the party last night.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman. She wasn’t simpering and needy, looking for something that he couldn’t give. She was strong and as in control as he was. But underneath all that he sensed a passion that would engulf him, rendering him helpless, and that was a position he would never put himself in.

He would never be as weak as his father had been.

‘I still have to go home.’

She reached past him to grab her bag and sandals, her shoulder brushing his arm. He braced himself against the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her as he had done at the party.

‘A girl can’t flit off for a weekend with nothing more than her Friday evening outfit.’

Her voice was light, almost lyrical. She was obviously used to loving and leaving. She also appeared used to coping in situations like this, and he’d do well to remember that. He watched as she placed her hand on the table, leaning against it as she lifted one shapely leg and slipped on a sandal. Mesmerised, he watched her fiddle with the straps, her brunette hair cascading over her shoulder, shielding her face from his view.

She straightened, taller now. His gaze locked with hers and a sizzle of something undefinable zipped between them. She blinked, long lashes breaking the connection, and bent to put on her other sandal.

‘Okay,’ she said softly. ‘What do I need for this wedding in Spain?’

He smiled. He hadn’t ever thought he would be getting married, and never in his wildest dreams had he imagined such a reluctant bride. Women usually fell over themselves to please him, and he knew if he’d asked the magic question to any one of the glamorous models he’d recently dated they would have been dragging him away.

‘Your passport and birth certificate is all you need to bring. I have everything else sorted.’

‘To perfection, by the sound of it. I suppose you have organised a pre-nuptial agreement?’ She pushed her thick hair behind her ear and looked straight at him, her eyebrows raised in question.

Of course he’d arranged a pre-nuptial agreement. Any man in his position would. He’d had his legal team on it since she’d left his office on Thursday—just as they’d been finding out if it would be quicker and easier for them to marry in Spain. Her track record showed an ability to marry for financial gain and, no matter how passionately she declared sisterly love as the reason behind her proposition, he’d decided to safeguard everything.

‘It would be foolish not to, querida.’

Her eyes sparked with burnished gold and he knew he’d hit a raw nerve. It was well known that she’d become a wealthy woman after her husband died.

‘Fine.’

The word crackled between them, and her lips were firmly pressed together, as if she was holding back what she really wanted to say.

He looked at her lovely face, her lips set in a firm line of discontent, and he couldn’t help himself. He reached out and brushed his fingers down her cheek. She didn’t move, didn’t pull away from him, just looked at him with such wide-eyed innocence he wondered if it was the same woman he’d met a few days ago.

‘It will protect us both.’ Her skin was so soft he wanted more. He stepped closer, the urge to kiss her stronger than anything he’d known.

‘I have packing to do.’

* * *

Georgina’s heart was pounding in her chest so hard she was sure he would be able to hear it. She couldn’t do this. Why ever had she thought it was a good idea? Had it really been her only option? Offering herself to a man renowned for his ruthless business tactics.

For a moment his gaze locked with hers, the dark depths of his eyes seeming to search hers as if looking into her soul. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any more he dropped his hand and moved away from her. As he’d done a few days ago in his office he walked to the windows and stood looking out over London.

She needed to go home and think. Once she was away from him she could think of other options, but she couldn’t do any of that if he was around. Just one smouldering look from his eyes made her pulse leap. She wasn’t supposed to feel anything for him, but the attraction that simmered like an undercurrent waiting to snare the unsuspecting unnerved her more than anything else.

‘My car will take you to your apartment and wait while you pack.’

‘Wait while I pack?’ She laughed. ‘Have you any idea how long it takes a woman to pack for a trip abroad?’ Not that she would count herself among one of those women, but she needed time alone.

‘Yes.’ He turned to face her. ‘As a matter of fact I do—which is why you will find just about anything you need waiting for you in Spain.’

‘You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?’ She couldn’t believe the calculated way he’d planned all this. From the party where they would first be seen together to the trip away to get married.

‘As I said, I do things properly. I cover every eventuality. Which is why my car will wait for you.’

‘I made a deal with you, Santos.’ Did he actually think she was going to run away? She was made of stronger stuff than that. ‘I have no intention of going back on that deal, despite the fact that you have manipulated the situation to your advantage.’

‘The “situation”, as you call it, will be to the advantage of both of us.’

He smiled and his eyes darkened with the promise of something she didn’t want to think of.

‘Of that you can be sure.’