The Latin Lover

SHE knew he was going to kiss her. Knew it before he’d dipped his head and angled his face in her direction. Knew it before his hand curled had around her neck, drawing her closer to him.

Knew it and didn’t move a muscle to get away.

‘Alejandro…’

‘You already said that,’ he whispered, so quietly against her lips that she wasn’t sure if she’d heard the words or merely read them on his breath.

And then his mouth found hers and she didn’t care, for his taste was no longer just a distant memory, his touch was no longer just a dream. He was here and real and he was kissing her, his mouth moving over hers gently, his fingers stroking her neck in a massage so sensually inviting that it was impossible not to kiss him back.

And his lips were smooth and warm, inviting her participation, smoothing her objections. If Alejandro were a fabric, she decided as she melted into him, he would be silk, the finest quality Italian silk, black and rich and lustrous, moving like shadows in the light.

Her fingers bunched in his shirt, once more itching to be let loose on the firm-packed skin that lay so close beneath. He took advantage of her complicity to pull her deeper into the kiss, and she went with him into a kiss that was utterly magic and so infinitely sweet that her heart squeezed tight on the question—why couldn’t it have always been this way?—before two fat tears spilled unbidden down her cheeks.

Damn him! Two tears were more than enough to bring her to her senses. It was bad enough that she cared, but letting him see her tears—letting him know that she cared—would be suicidal.

‘I don’t want this,’ she said, finding untapped reserves of strength, taking him by surprise as she pushed at his rock-solid chest. She spun away, her hands swiping at her cheeks, obliterating any trace of tears before she was game enough to face him again. ‘I told you. I don’t want you back.’

As if a mask had dropped, his features were suddenly harsher, all unforgiving angles and damning planes, every trace of her silken seducer banished. From across the room he regarded her coolly, his eyes like polished stones, hard and unrelenting. ‘I don’t believe you.’

She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping herself together—centred—in a world that was in danger of lurching out of control. ‘I’m afraid you’ve wasted a trip, Spaniard,’ she said, not caring this time if she was rude, determined not to make the mistake of mentioning his name again. It was distance she needed right now. Distance, and to be once more left alone.

‘You will come back to me,’ he said, taking a step closer.

‘Not a chance.’

‘You will be my lover again.’

‘Don’t tell me what I will do! This is my city, my world. Here, I decide.’

‘And I tell you now, you will decide to come back to me.’

She crossed to the door on knees that threatened to buckle beneath her, opened it and let the noise of the outside world in. It was a welcome intrusion, loud and full of the pulse of the city, a reminder that the world didn’t begin and end with Alejandro, whatever he thought. ‘I think it’s time you were leaving.’

His passage to the door took much less time than hers but he didn’t exit as she’d hoped. Instead he stood in the doorway, regarding her solemnly. ‘I will go,’ he said, with such an air of finality that part of her wanted to weep. With relief, she tried to tell herself. But her nerves were too jangling and raw, and the thought that Alejandro might blow out of her life just as quickly as he’d blown in was somehow too much to come to terms with.

‘My car will pick you up at six o’clock. Don’t keep the driver waiting.’

So close to achieving her goal, his words were like a punch to the gut, sending her already scattered emotions further into disarray. ‘I don’t believe you. Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve been saying?’

‘I heard, but it makes no difference to me.’

‘This isn’t about you!’

‘No? Perhaps on that point we can agree. What if it was about your brother?’

She reeled back. ‘What do you know of Jordan?’

His eyes gleamed like a fisherman who’d just landed the first catch of the day. ‘We will discuss it tonight.’ He turned and made a move to comply with her request to leave. Except now she couldn’t let him.

She reached a hand out and latched on to his lean forearm, his muscled power evident even through the fine merino cloth of his coat. ‘Alejandro!’

He turned, his eyes sweeping enquiringly up from her hand to her face.

‘Please,’ she said, dropping her hand, knowing that it would be madness to meet him tonight, knowing the more time she spent with him, the more he would whittle down her shaky defences. ‘Tell me now.’

‘We will discuss it over dinner. I will take you somewhere to eat.’ His eyes flicked mercilessly over her. ‘You need filling out.’

‘Tell me now, or I won’t come.’