Читать книгу Australia: Sinful Secrets: Public Marriage, Private Secrets / Every Girl's Secret Fantasy / The Heart Surgeon's Secret Child - Robyn Grady, Helen Bianchin - Страница 12

IT WAS during breakfast that Teresa mentioned a soirée to be held that evening in a friend’s villa in the hills overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

‘It will be a pleasure to represent you,’ Raúl assured her gently, in a bid to minimise Teresa’s voiced regret at not being able to attend.

‘Ana is incredibly generous in opening her home to host these occasions. My help is minimal in comparison.’

Yet Gianna recalled with ease the number of times Teresa had opened her Madrid home to host various fundraising functions. The expense of doing so gifted without question.

Devising interesting functions in order to raise funds for deserving charities required experience, imagination, and above all, organisation. Committees were formed, women volunteered their time, expertise and even their homes in a bid to host a successful soirée to benefit a children’s hospital wing with equipment, toys, digital televisions, DVDs. The list was endless, the functions many. Some were elaborate annual events; others by select invitation only.

Gianna had always respected the time and energy Teresa devoted to causes close to her heart, and knew the sadness Teresa must experience now at being forced through illness to take a much less active role.

‘Gianna, are you sure you don’t mind partnering Raúl?’

Excuse me? Since when was it assumed she would partner Raúl? Surely there was someone else he could call on, even at such short notice?

Except how could she say she had other plans when all her plans centered around Teresa’s welfare?

‘Of course not,’ she assured her with a smile.

‘Thank you. I’m very grateful.’

And that was sufficient. After all, attending a function supporting a good cause was no big deal. It wasn’t as if it was a new experience, given she’d attended similar functions in the past.

It was likely she’d be able to touch base with a few people she hadn’t seen in a few years. Appearing at Raúl’s side didn’t make it a date. It just so happened she was visiting Teresa at the time.

Choosing what to wear posed no problem as she instinctively selected the lilac gown with its crystal beading.

The colour enhanced her blue eyes, added soft texture to her skin, and with the skilled appliance of make-up the overall result was pleasing.

The length of her hair was swept into a fashionable knot held in place with crystal pins. A light spritz of her favourite perfume, diamond ear-studs, a slim diamond tennis bracelet added a finishing touch, and she slid her feet into delicate silver strappy stilettos, collected an evening clutch purse, then she exited the room and made her way to the head of the staircase.

Raúl was in the process of descending, and he turned and waited for her to join him.

The breath caught in her throat—a habit which occurred far too often just lately for her peace of mind.

Resplendent in a black tailored evening suit, snow-white linen shirt with black silk tie, he was something else. Ruggedly attractive, with harshly chiselled features, well-defined bone structure, he emanated a formidable aura of power. For beneath his forceful image lay a blend of latent sensuality which drew women like bees to a honeypot.

Including her.

Even now, when she professed to dislike him for his purported transgressions.

‘Beautiful,’ he complimented quietly, and stilled the urge to place his lips against the sweet curve of her neck.

‘Thank you.’

The faint pulse at the base of her throat had quickened its pace, and he took pleasure from the fact.

Miguel had the Mercedes parked adjacent the main entrance, and Raúl saw her seated before crossing round the vehicle to slip in behind the wheel.

‘It would help if you’d fill me in about the purpose of this evening’s function, the name of our host and hostess, and any applicable background information,’ Gianna suggested as they left the villa.

‘Ana and Franco own a spacious villa at Sóller, high on a hill overlooking the sea,’ Raúl informed her. ‘Ana is a tireless supporter of children’s charities, especially those for children disadvantaged by life-threatening illness. Franco shared similar business interests with my late father, and both families are friends of long standing.’

‘Tonight’s function is specifically aimed at raising funds for which particular charity?’

‘The building of an entertainment wing where terminally ill children can enjoy some of the luxuries most children take for granted. Electronic games that can be engaged in via remote control onto individual screens and played from their wheelchairs. Future donations will include a nurse-aide’s salary. Laptop computers set up to access the Internet so that the children can e-mail family and friends. The aim is to stimulate the mind and keep it active, even if physical mobility is limited.’

Mallorca bore so much history, if one wanted to explore and research it, but it was the scenery that captured Gianna’s interest. The tree-clad hills with villas peeping through the lush greenery. The many bays, beautiful beaches, the open sea. The horizon where the deep sapphire waters met with the azure sky, changing as the day progressed into night until the ocean and sky merged as one. The warm climate, the sun’s heat that cooled as night darkened the sky. The sophistication provided by the wealthy, which vied with the tourists who visited to share in the idyllic lifestyle.

It held memories of happier times, when Teresa had based herself in Madrid and flown in to Mallorca for the occasional weekend. The few times she and Raúl had flown in for a relaxing few days.

‘We’re nearly there.’

She’d been lost in thought, and hadn’t noticed the distance they’d covered, or Raúl’s skilled handling as they ascended the winding road.

Minutes later he eased speed and paused at a set of closed ornate gates, where visual identification was established via his driver’s licence and printed invitation.

It was a large property, spread out over several hectares, and already numerous cars lined the driveway.

Imposing and magnificent were only two superlatives Gianna accorded the large double-storeyed mansion. And that only related to the exterior.

Security guarded the entrance, where a further check took place…and it was only afterwards Gianna fully understood why.

An auction of art and precious jewellery was the feature of the evening, and any amount bid over and above the conservative reserve would be donated to charity.

Items were on display in a separate room guarded by a security team. Items worth millions of euros, Gianna calculated at a guess as she browsed the locked glass display cases.

Each item bore the reserve price, and a catalogue tabling detailed description was handed to each guest.

‘You are kidding me,’ Gianna offered quietly, for the room resembled a very organised Aladdin’s cave.

‘Hence the written invitations delivered individually by hand.’

‘Raúl, Gianna,’ a gracious feminine voice greeted. ‘How lovely of you to accept our invitation.’

‘Ana, it’s a pleasure.’ Raúl brushed his cheek to each of hers, and Gianna found herself receiving a similar salutation from their hostess.

‘Please adjourn to the lounge for drinks. There are plenty of refreshments, so please help yourselves. The auction will begin at ten.’

It was difficult to assess the number of invited guests…more than a hundred?

‘Almost two hundred, I believe,’ Raúl estimated, and smiled at her faint surprise, aware it irked her that he could read her so easily. ‘Do you see anything you like?’

‘There are so many exquisite items it would be impossible to choose any one.’ Not to mention reserve prices way over the range of anything she could afford.

‘What about you?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s it…just yes?’

He lifted a hand and trailed gentle fingers down her cheek. ‘Why is it women are so curious, hmm?’

‘It’s our natural vocation.’

He uttered a husky laugh, and dropped his hand to rest at her waist. ‘We’ll go join the rest of the guests.’

It was easy to sip superb champagne, be tempted by a bountiful supply of finger food, and chat with guests she hadn’t seen in three years. Not one of whom expressed surprise at seeing her coupled with Raúl.

Unlikely, she admitted, when he never left her side.

If there was masked speculation she didn’t pick up on it, and for the first time she began to relax, to smile and let some of the tension ebb.

There was a sense of excitement when Ana and Franco announced the auction would begin, and a representative of the policia observed the proceedings while an accredited auctioneer took the podium. Security officers delivered each item, guarded it then removed it as successful bidders were noted by designated number and their bid recorded.

Although Gianna had attended similar events in the past, this one stood out as being spectacular. Every item received a successful bid, rising without exception to well above the reserve price.

Raúl obtained two items, each for a sum that made her swallow rather hastily. The first being a painting she’d briefly lingered to admire…an exquisite small portrait of a young girl from a previous century, lovingly entranced by the kitten she held in her arms. The second a beautiful sapphire surrounded by diamonds on a delicate gold chain, together with matching ear-studs.

Both Ana and Franco endorsed the auction’s success, and announced a conservative figure of the funds raised for the nominated charity, whereupon they thanked their guests and invited them to enjoy themselves, while advising coffee would soon be served.

In hindsight, it might have been wise to leave at that point—although who could have predicted the last person on this earth Gianna wanted to see should put in an appearance?

Given Raúl’s warning that Sierra was in Mallorca, it was only a matter of when, not if Sierra appeared on the scene, yet nevertheless it came as a shock to see her nemesis in the flesh, here.

With the security measures in place, where had she been during the auction—and, what was more…who was she with?

Did any of it matter?

Next question…had Raúl noticed her?

And if he had, what action would he take?

Worse, what were the legal implications if the restraining order he’d implemented was still effective?

Irrespective of which, Sierra possessed incredible nerve, risking much to appear here tonight in what had to be a calculated move to confront.

Who was the target? Raúl or her? Both?

Who knew?

It was difficult to appear dispassionate as she met Sierra’s deliberate gaze. The young woman looked exquisitely groomed in a designer gown that hugged every curve. Dark blond hair had undergone a change and was now much lighter with subtle streaks, in a style that framed her features to perfection.

Fascinated, Gianna couldn’t help wondering if Sierra deliberately practised numerous poses in front of a mirror in order to gain maximum effect. The smile, the eyes…blue, when she could have sworn she remembered them as being hazel…contacts, perhaps?…the flutter of her hand, the light tinkling laughter.

The woman was a work of art…artifice, that was.

Most red-blooded men would be drawn to her, curious perhaps to discover if she delivered the sensual promise evident in the packaging.

Gianna had to give it to her…Sierra played her hand well. She was accompanied, she saw now, by a partner who resembled a male model for GQ magazine. Someone Sierra had hired as her date for the night? Without question someone who had scored an invitation.

Hush your mouth, Gianna silently chastised herself… Let’s not digress into pettiness. The woman could have changed.

Sure, and little pink piglets might fly!

It was interesting to view Sierra with a fresh perspective, noting the acquisitive behaviour, the determination…not love, but the desire to possess. At any cost? Uncaring if her actions, her words, might destroy a relationship, a mar riage?

Had that been Sierra’s original goal? Perhaps even veering towards the psychotic: If I can’t have him, no other woman will.

Gianna met Raúl’s direct gaze, and offered a wry smile.

‘Impossible you haven’t noticed Sierra has crawled out of the woodwork. One assumes there is a purpose to her presence here tonight?’

‘Without question.’

‘You must be flattered.’

‘No.’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘Really? A beautiful woman prepared to do anything…’ she trailed deliberately.

‘No,’ he reiterated quietly.

‘Why not?’

He threaded his fingers through her own and lifted them to his lips. ‘She isn’t you.’

For a moment she just looked at him, unsure whether he was playing for real…or just playing a part.

Flippancy was the only way to go. ‘Is this where I look at you with adoration?’

‘It wouldn’t hurt.’

‘I’m sadly out of practice.’

‘I can help with that.’

He lowered his head and brushed his mouth to her temple, lingered there, then placed an arm along the back of her waist and drew her in to his side.

‘You’re verging on overkill,’ she warned sweetly, and saw the edge of his mouth curve a little.

‘You think this is a game?’

‘It isn’t?’

His eyes darkened, and his features lost any pretence at humour. ‘No.’

Raúl caught the momentary confusion evident before she successfully tamped it down, and he silently cursed, aware how carefully he needed to tread if he was to achieve a successful resolution.

In business he called the shots, issued ruthless terms and was prepared to walk away if those terms were not met.

But this was personal. Very personal.

‘Sierra seems to be heading this way.’ And was doing so gracefully, pausing here and there to speak with an acquaintance. In order to detract from her true purpose? Gianna pondered, only to reluctantly admire the young woman’s perspicacity…for when it came to dedicated purpose, Sierra won hands down.

Battle, undoubtedly, was about to commence.

‘Raúl. Querido.’

Wow, how did she manage to inject so much seductive innuendo into so few words? Practice, Gianna deduced. Whatever, it was incredibly effective, and she unconsciously held her breath for his response.

There was none.

Oh, my. In seeming slow motion she caught the dangerous glitter in Sierra’s eyes, then it was gone, and the perfectly painted mouth widened a little, then formed a moue.

‘Not even hola, Raúl?’

Gianna spared him a surreptitious glance, then wished she hadn’t as a shiver slid icily down her spine at the hardness evident in his dark gaze.

Total cut-off, no communication whatsoever…and none intended.

Not once had she ever witnessed such pitiless disregard. Not even at the height of their verbal controversy over Sierra’s assertions in the final days before she’d left him.

No way in the world would she want to be subject to such chilling resolve from anyone. Should she ever incur such a look from Raúl, she’d simply curl up and die.

Not, however, Sierra, who shifted her attention briefly to Gianna.

‘So…what prompted you to return? His billions? Or his ability to make you feel like the kind of woman no other man can?’

Oh, boy. She held Sierra’s vindictive gaze, and evinced quietly, ‘I’m in Mallorca at Raúl’s request.’

If looks could kill, she’d be dead.

‘Has he offered you an obscene amount of money to try again for a Velez-Saldaña heir?’ She conducted a deliberate examination from head to toe and back again. ‘Raúl should move on to a woman who is fertile.’

The words stung, as they were intended to.

‘Another word,’ Raúl issued in silky warning, ‘and I’ll ask Security to remove you.’

‘You can’t do that, amante. I’m here with a partner who has a genuine invitation.’ With a cruel smile, she returned to Gianna. ‘I wouldn’t have failed to give him a child…as you did.’

Hurtful parting words, which speared Gianna’s heart as Sierra intended. She was barely conscious of the soothing slide of Raúl’s hand as it moved from her waist to rest at her nape.

‘We’ll leave.’

She turned, her eyes large in the paleness of her face. Except he glimpsed innate strength there, the faint smile that surely cost her.

‘And give Sierra the satisfaction of knowing a deliberate barb found its mark? I don’t think so.’

‘Then let’s move out onto the terrace.’

Gianna didn’t resist as he indicated one of several French doors, and she crossed to the ornate balustrade to admire the nightscape. They were high in the hills, with a panoramic view towards Palma with its sprinkling of lights, and beyond the black mass of the ocean.

There were stars, and a light breeze wafting in from the sea.

Relaxing, and infinitely serene, she acknowledged as she breathed in the fresh air and felt the tension Sierra had generated began to ease.

Raúl stood at her side, and she didn’t protest as he drew her close. There was comfort in his touch, a warm strength that made her want to bury her cheek against his chest.

Almost as if he knew, he curved a hand over her nape and pulled her in, then rested his cheek against her own in an intimate gesture that reminded her so much of what they’d used to share.

It felt good…so good she didn’t want to move, and she gave a faint sigh in protest as he caught hold of her chin, lifting it so she had no recourse but to look at him.

There was a wealth of emotion evident in the depth of his eyes, and she swallowed the slight lump in her throat as he lowered his head and brushed his lips to her forehead, trailed to her cheek, then sought her mouth in a gentle kiss that subtly changed as she became powerless not to respond.

It was like coming home…to a place she instinctively knew she belonged.

For endless minutes she gave in to the pleasure, the hard feel of his arousal a potent force as he shaped her body, drawing her in until she became lost, wanting so much more and she barely disguised her groan as Raúl began to ease back.

‘We have company,’ he said quietly, close to her ear, as she lowered her arms from around his neck and turned slightly to see their hostess regarding them both with amused benevolence.

‘I hope this is what I think it might be?’ Ana queried with a smile.

Gianna uttered a whispered, ‘No…’ Only to have Raúl bestow a light kiss, then stifle any further protest by pressing a finger to her mouth.

‘Querida, how long did you imagine we could keep it quiet?’

Was he insane?

‘You have decided to reconcile?’ Ana posed with delight. ‘Teresa will be so very happy with the news. Let me be the first to offer congratulations to you both.’

‘Gracias.’

What was he doing? A kiss…that was all. Sure, a tiny voice taunted. You were close to devouring each other. And enjoying it.

Ohmigod. This wasn’t happening. She was lost in a dream from which she’d soon awake.

Except the scene was startlingly real, and she blinked rapidly as if to clear her mind.

‘We must all share a celebratory drink,’ their hostess bade cheerfully as she indicated the French doors.

Gianna’s denial rose and died in her throat as she gave Raúl a beseeching look that had no effect whatsoever.

You can’t do this.

Did she speak the words aloud?

Apparently not. And seconds later she stood in the doorway, anchored close to Raúl’s side, with their hostess calling for everyone’s attention.

Say something. Anything. Just stop this farce before it begins.

Except the words wouldn’t form…and then it was too late.

‘I have a special announcement to make. It is my great pleasure to inform you that my dear friends Raúl and Gianna Velez-Saldaña have decided to reconcile. Let us all wish them well, and drink a toast to their future.’

Champagne appeared, and staff quickly assembled flutes and distributed them among the guests.

Somehow Gianna managed to smile as guests she knew and some she didn’t came by to express their good wishes… Even Sierra leaned in close and voiced in a hideous whisper, ‘Watch your back. It doesn’t pay to be too clever.’

Gianna barely refrained from a pithy rejoinder, aware silence was the better option.

Raúl was a constant presence, playing the part a little too well. A vivid reminder of how it had used to be between them. The musing smile that promised much once they were alone. A light touch of his hand at her waist the trail of his fingers down the length of her spine to rest low and brush back and forth in a gentle movement guaranteed to stir her senses.

Revenge, when the opportunity presented itself, was sweet, and she uttered a few words so quietly he angled his head down to catch them.

It would have appeared to any onlooker as an endearing moment…except the light brush of her mouth hid the deliberate nip of sharp white teeth to his earlobe.

Only she caught the faint hiss of his expelled breath, and glimpsed the sudden dark gleam in his eyes promising retribution.

Eventually the evening drew to a close, and Gianna waited until the car cleared the gates before turning towards him.

‘Explain, please,’ she demanded with barely controlled anger, ‘why you didn’t correct Ana’s assumption?’

The mountain road was narrow by any standard, winding, and required concentration.

‘I was more concerned in protecting you.’

His slightly amused drawl merely ratcheted up her anger another notch.

‘Don’t toy with me. I’m a hair’s breadth away from hitting you.’

‘At least wait until we’re off this road before you try.’

She bit her lip to restrain the words she longed to hurl at him. Words which flowed the instant Raúl reached the main route leading to Teresa’s villa.

‘What in hell were you thinking back there?’

‘In reference to…?’

She shot him a venomous look which would have felled a lesser man. ‘We are not reconciling.’

‘Then perhaps you can explain why you were totally with me in every sense of the word.’

The thing was she had been…so totally lost she’d had no awareness of anything except him.

Be honest. She’d wanted to tear his clothes off and eat him alive.

‘So, you kiss very well.’ It was a totally inadequate protestation, and she heard a husky sound emerge from his throat that sounded suspiciously like subdued laughter.

‘You choose to imagine that’s all it was? Sensual expertise?’

No, she admitted wretchedly. It was so much more than that, and the knowledge blew her mind.

‘Yes.’

The car slowed and he used a remote to open the gates, then again to open the garage. As he cut the headlights, the garage lights sprang on and the exterior door folded down.

In one smooth movement he released his seat belt and turned towards her.

‘Liar,’ Raúl accused quietly as he cradled her face and covered her mouth with his own.

Her initial protest died as he coaxed her lips apart and began exploring the soft tissues with gentle expertise.

Warmth invaded her veins, firing her nerve-ends until she felt every cell bloom sensually alive, and with a faint sigh she simply gave herself up to the magic only he could create.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, and she was barely aware of his hand caressing her thigh while the other shaped her breast.

She was unaware of her hands reaching for him, sliding the buttons free from his shirt as she sought warm skin and taut musculature.

‘Let’s get out of here.’ Deep husky words filled with passionate intent as he slid free from the car, then crossed to the passenger side and drew her unresisting to her feet.

A faint gasp left her throat as he slid an arm beneath her knees and swung her into his arms.

‘Put me down,’ she protested weakly as he entered the foyer and carried her upstairs to her suite, then closed the door behind them.

Heat pulsed through her veins, setting her body on fire…for him, only him. The sane, sensible part of her issued a silent warning her emotional heart chose to ignore. She needed this, him, with every breath she took, and she defied rational thought as her hands sought to remove his jacket, loosen his tie, then tear hurriedly at the buttons on his shirt…aware he was equally bent on dispensing with her clothes.

Skin, just skin…warm, fluid muscle and sinew. She revelled in the feel of him, the clean male musky scent mingling with the exclusive tones of his cologne.

His hand trailed low over her stomach and sought her moist heat, the acutely sensitive clitoris…he sensed her intake of breath as he skilfully brought her to orgasm.

Eroticism at its pinnacle…shameless and wildly primitive…and at that moment she couldn’t see, only feel, with the desperate need for fulfilment.

More. She wanted so much more. Now. It had to be now, or she’d die.

She linked her hands at his nape and in one agile movement straddled his hips, instinctively arching in against his arousal as he cupped her bottom to hold her there.

His mouth sought hers as he invaded the inner depths, searching delicate tissues, savouring the taste and feel of her…teasing the highly sensitised heat as he moved her against the length of his arousal…until she closed the edge of her teeth over his tongue in silent urgency for his possession.

Which he gave, positioning her as he slid in carefully, stilled, then thrust in deep…absorbing her cry as he held her there, aware her heartbeat thudded in unison with his own.

It wasn’t enough… He wanted her in bed, under him, at his mercy as he drove her wild.

A few steps was all it took, and he disengaged, tore back the bedcovers in one easy movement, then tumbled them both down onto the sheeted mattress.

His mouth sought the sensitive curve at the edge of her neck, then traced a path to her breast, moistened the tender peak and drew it into his mouth. He heard the breath hitch in her throat as he tugged hard, and he softened his touch as her nails pressed into his biceps.

Not content, he trailed light kisses to her waist, lingered at her navel, then with lazy appreciation moved slowly down to settle at the apex of her thighs.

Her body quivered as he blew gently against the sensitive flesh, then sought the honeyed cleft, traced it with the tip of his tongue, bestowed an open-mouthed kiss… Then he sought the satiny entrance and delved deep, only to retreat and graze the clitoris until she shattered beneath his touch.

With one easy movement, he shifted and began trailing soft kisses down one inner thigh to her knee and back again, before inching slowly to her breast.

Her hands, which had been digging into the mattress, moved to clasp his hips…and it was he who felt the breath hitch in his throat as she enclosed his arousal, stroked him, then eased to cup him.

‘Careful, querida, he warned her gently as he nipped the swollen peak with the edge of his teeth…only to chuckle quietly as she grasped his head and dragged his mouth to her own in a kiss that took passion to new heights.

It was then he entered her in a slow, deep slide that drew a soft moan from her throat as her muscles tightened, gripping him as she urged him to quicken the pace, demanding as he lost himself in deep, powerful thrusts that rocked them both as they soared high…so high. She simply held on as he took her to the edge, suspended her there, then tipped her over in a glorious free-fall that left them both dragging breath into their lungs.

Sated, and deliciously replete, she held him close, murmuring indistinctly as she rested in his embrace.

His, indisputably his.

As he was hers…had been from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. She’d intrigued him…he who’d become jaded with the women of his acquaintance. Mostly sycophants who imagined being attractive arm candy and receptive in bed would gain them entry into his world…for a time.

Gianna had been different. Alive, sparkling…unutterably sweet, and honest, with a dry wit he’d found remarkably refreshing. No hidden agenda, and equally at ease with his high-powered lifestyle. She’d taught him to lighten up, to laugh a little…and to love with his heart, his soul.

He’d proposed, gifted her his ring, for marriage had been a given…just a matter of organising a day, a time.

Her accidental pregnancy had delighted him, precipitating the wedding. But the unforeseen miscarriage had been followed soon after by Sierra’s damnably false innuendos…and Gianna had slipped to a place where he’d been unable to reach her.

‘Sleep,’ he bade her gently, and he watched her lashes drift down.

‘You should leave.’

He pressed a light kiss to her temple and nestled her close in against him. ‘Later.’

Except it was she who stirred in the early pre-dawn hours to the light trail of his mouth as he nuzzled the hollow at the base of her throat. She who uttered little protest as he made love to her again…a slow, gentle loving that was all her pleasure, after which he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the en suite bathroom, where he shared her shower, teasing her with the soap before gifting it to her to return the favour.

Which she did, so caught up in the thrall of him and what they’d shared that she refused to think.

This…this was heaven. The beautiful aftermath of good sex. Very good sex. Intimacy at its most rapturous, when the heart was gloriously alive…and free from intrusive thought.

If only it could remain like this, Gianna pondered a trifle wistfully. To be able to go back to the place before it all went wrong…to view it from a different mind-set and avoid the pain and bitterness.

A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat.

So much for not thinking.

‘Don’t,’ Raúl chided gently.

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘It’s impossible not to.’

He caught hold of her chin and tilted it so she had no recourse but to meet the darkness in his eyes. ‘There has never been anyone since you. No one.’

No one? Not even…

Dared she believe him …trust him? At the time of their marriage she would have given an unequivocal yes.

Now, even discounting Sierra’s damning words to the contrary, it seemed almost impossible to comprehend a man with Raúl’s sexual energy could remain celibate for such a long period of time.

There were so many layers to remove to reach the kernel of truth, she perceived.

Sex…even very good sex…did little more than temporarily paper over the cracks.

Which brought forth the question…had she been wrong three years ago? So distressed and emotionally traumatised that she’d chosen to believe Sierra’s accounting instead of trusting Raúl?

It was something she’d agonised over countless times, only to reach the same conclusion…logic in favour of an unlikely truth.

Did she possess the nous, the courage, to confront Sierra and shoot down each and every purported fact…and verify it as fallacy?

She had the rest of her life in front of her…a successful business, a pleasant apartment, a good lifestyle.

All of which she’d trade in a heartbeat…

Oh, God.

She closed her eyes, counted to ten, then slowly opened them again.

Don’t let intimacy cloud an important issue, she cautioned herself silently as Raúl released her and closed the water dial.

With ease he caught up a towel and hitched it at his waist, then he filched another and gently blotted the moisture from her body.

Towelled dry, he drew her into the bedroom, straightened the covers, then slid beneath them and gathered her in.

The remembered closeness of being held like this…the soft drift of his fingers as they trailed her spine…the way one hand cupped her head and the slide of his lips to her forehead…it was like coming home to a place where her body instinctively knew it belonged.