A Spanish Vengeance

Gingerly, she perched on the edge of the sofa beside him. ‘That last night he turned up with a totally fabulous woman—rich as Croesus, by the look of her.’ She didn’t mention those earlier sightings; there seemed little point. ‘I was sick with jealousy. I wanted to pay him back. So I kissed you, remember?’

‘Do I!’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘You shocked me rigid. That sort of behaviour in a public place was so unlike you. It was months before I could feel really easy in your company after that.’

Ignoring the evidence of his streak of prudery, Lisa confessed, ‘Diego was standing right behind us. I said something really vile to him. That’s why he’s put such impossible stri

ngs on his rescue package. To punish me. I hurt his precious pride.’

Ben swung his head round to look at her. Something about that look told her he was resigned to letting her go, she thought in a panic, knowing that even though they weren’t in love with each other he represented emotional safety. ‘Not impossible, surely? You obviously hurt more than his pride,’ he said gently. ‘Five years is a long time for a man like him to carry a torch.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Lisa dismissed sharply. ‘I told you—he wants to punish me.’

‘And you want that kind of punishment?’

‘Of course not!’ she denied, her cheeks going hot at the thought of the kind of punishment Diego could dole out.

‘Then why didn’t you tell him straight out to sling his hook? Why feel you had to discuss the situation if you were unwilling to go along with it? And don’t repeat all that other stuff—saving Lifestyle and all that. If it folds it wouldn’t be the end of the world. The Dads would sink into comfortable retirement and I could find other work in my field, no problem—’

‘And what about the others? Their jobs would go. And Maggie—what would she do?’ she interrupted heatedly, incensed that he should put her concerns down to hot air and a sneaky desire to do exactly what Diego had suggested.

‘People are made redundant every day,’ he pointed out. ‘They don’t starve to death. They manage. And, as for Maggie, she’s nearing retirement age. She’ll receive a worthwhile pension.’

He huffed out his breath and got slowly to his feet. ‘Admit it, Lise. You’d be a willing sacrificial lamb. You and I never pretended to a grand passion. If, deep down, you’re still in love with your Spaniard, then go to him. But be honest about it, don’t dress it up as anything other than a need to be with him at any cost.’ He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. ‘Think about it and be honest with yourself. And, if you do decide to do as he asks, you have my blessing. I don’t go for all that hearts and flowers stuff, you know that. Even so, I wouldn’t want a wife who was secretly yearning for another man. It wouldn’t work out.’ He gave her a last gentle smile. ‘Keep the ring as a symbol of my regard for you.’

Lisa never was sure how long she sat there after Ben walked out. She was frozen with shock. How easily he’d let her go. How pertinently he’d put his finger on the heart of the matter. She still wanted Diego, was still in love with the handsome, charismatic young Spaniard who had broken her heart all those years ago

She had never regarded herself as a fool, but she did now.

Wearily, she dragged herself to her room, unwilling to face Sophie. Closing the door behind her, she leant against it, pressing her fingertips to her throbbing temples.

Diego would demand her decision in the morning.

Would she be strong enough, sane enough, to tell him to get lost? Leave Lifestyle to its ignominious fate. As Ben had pointed out, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if the magazine folded; saving it would just be her excuse to justify her actions. A willing lamb to the slaughter.

Or would she go with him, lie with him and pleasure him? Take what she could of him and bear the pain and shame when it was over? Could she resist the wicked temptation?

Exiting the taxi that had brought him from the central London hotel he was using, Diego instructed the driver to wait. This wouldn’t take long.

Despite his immaculate cashmere overcoat he shivered, blamed the miserable English March weather and set his jaw grimly. The unprecedented stinging, shivery sensation deep inside him had nothing to do with her answer.

It was down to the depressing weather, the grey streets and buildings, so unlike his vibrant, colourful homeland that it made his very soul shake inside him. Or he’d caught flu—that would explain the band of perspiration that was chilling on his forehead.

His long mouth quirked wryly. He was turning into a hypochondriac now!

Shrugging that distasteful notion aside, he pushed open the door of what had once been an elegant Regency townhouse and was now converted into tiny flats. The unfurnished hallway was bleak. Someone’s bicycle leant against the banisters of the uncarpeted stairs. His heart jumped like a landed fish as he began to mount them but he refused to let the possibility of a negative answer to his proposition take root in his mind.

Five years ago, when he’d truly loved her, she’d been greedy for sex, he reminded himself forcefully. It had taken all his self-control to deny her. He’d known his own mind, wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman, but she’d been young and impressionable and he’d needed her to be as sure as he was. Out of respect for her he’d denied himself the rapture of making love with her, so on that last hateful night she’d set her sights on Clayton, dismissing the supposedly penniless waiter as if he were dirt beneath her dainty feet.

Greedy for sex then—nothing would have changed over the intervening years. No problem there, then. Giving in to his demands for retribution would be no hardship as far as she was concerned—with the added, not inconsiderable bonus of the financial security engendered by the renaissance of Lifestyle. That would be important to her. Despite her initial, and understandable, shocked protests she’d had all night to think her way round his proposition. Lisa Pennington would always come out in favour of what was best for her.

He had her! He was damn sure of it!

His hands flexed into fists as his body leapt and hardened at the remembrance of her eager, passionate responses all those years ago. How he’d adored her, the blind witchery of falling truly in love for the first time in his life making him romanticize her, believing her to be an angel sent from heaven for him alone.

Cretino!

He gritted his teeth. Reaching the second floor landing, standing before the door to the flat she occupied, his mind darkened with an unaccustomed flicker of self-doubt.

Clayton.