Kept at the Argentine's Command

There was no way she was getting out here, in the middle of nowhere!

‘It’s a flat. The back left tyre is shot.’

At least it wasn’t electrical. Lulu slumped a little in her seat. She could stay where she was, safe and sound, and it wouldn’t take too long. She could manage this. But she needed to dial down the panic. She cast about for something to pin her focus to in the car and remembered her phone.

In the silence that followed she glanced up, only to find he was watching her. She really didn’t want him to notice how nervous she was. ‘Well, fix it,’ she said defensively, before returning her attention to the screen.

Fix it?

Alejandro cut the engine and eased back in his seat to take a good look at what exactly he had on his hands.

One hundred and thirty pounds, at a guess, of Paris-bred entitlement—and he damn well wasn’t her mechanic. His gaze dwelt on her soft, petulant mouth. Although there was something he wouldn’t mind fixing.

He reached across, plucked her phone from her hands and tossed it onto the back seat.

Time to take the edge off his distracting sexual interest in her.

Lulu gave him a puzzled look. He’d sort that out for her too.

He leaned in.

Her eyes widened, her breath came short, but she didn’t exactly push him away as he slid his fingers through the astonishingly silky weight of curls behind her head and fitted his mouth with practised ease to hers.

Her muffled yelp gave him the opportunity to invade her warm mouth. He had planned to make this quick. He didn’t linger where he wasn’t wanted. Only Lulu wasn’t struggling, and she made no attempt to push him away. Instead her hands unfolded over his shoulders and then, almost tentatively, she was kissing him back.

He let her.

This wasn’t about proving a point any more.

Her hand stroked gently against his shoulder as she moved her mouth sensuously against his.

She was seducing him. And it was working. His body was suddenly as hard as a pick axe.

Which was inconvenient, given neither of them could do anything about it right now, in a broken-down car on the side of a quiet Scottish road.

Sí, not one of his smarter moves.

He began to think about leaping into ice holes in Reykjavik, of losing to a lesser team, about the very real possibility that a photo of him making out like a teenager with this girl might all too easily end up on the internet.

But what should have killed his desire stone-dead was the wave of tenderness that came over him as she drew away and hid her face in his neck in a gesture of embarrassment that oddly, crazily, had a rush of male protectiveness surging up from nowhere.

He found himself stroking the back of her neck, the urge to be affectionate with her amazingly strong.

Fragile, he told himself again. She’s fragile.

Lulu was aware that Alejandro was moving away from her and she had nowhere to hide. One minute she’d been trying to control her panic, the next she’d been tipped into something she hadn’t had a lot of in her twenty-three years—the feel, the scent, the excitement of a man kissing her. And not just any man. This man. This very masculine man, who knew exactly what he was doing.

Her heart had slammed against her chest as his mouth had slid against hers. It had been the most invigorating experience of her life.

She waited for him to say something, because for the life of her she had nothing. Zero.

‘All fixed now,’ he said, dropping the words into her lap as if he’d tossed her his hotel room key.

It wasn’t his words but the deliberation with which he wielded them that had her gaze flying to meet his. And then his meaning became clear.

Fixed? Lulu floundered with the concept. He’d done it on purpose? He hadn’t been carried away like her at all?

Mon Dieu, what a little fool she was.