The Latin Lover

‘Then why would I risk cutting this evening short?’ He joined her at the window, sending her skin once again to prickly awareness. ‘Are you hungry?’

She tried to remind herself he was talking about food. ‘A little.’

‘Then I should not make you hunger any longer.’

And she wondered if he was.

‘Come,’ he said, relieving her of her barely touched flute, ‘I have made a reservation in what I am assured is one of Sydney’s top restaurants. I am hoping it will live up to its reputation.’

He took her elbow in his hand, and the electric shock of his hand on her bare skin sent ripples straight to her breasts. Her bodice felt suddenly snugger, the fabric straining as her nipples h

ardened and firmed, and the tender flesh between her thighs was acutely sensitive as he led her to the door, making even just walking a sensual torture.

She bit down on the sensations. One evening with Alejandro she had to endure. Just one evening. And just as soon as he told her what he knew about Jordan she’d be free to go. She’d walked out on him once before. She could do this.

The restaurant more than lived up to its reputation. Perched on the end of a small spit on the North Shore, amidst lawns and park land, it was intimate rather than stuffy, welcoming rather than pretentious, despite the clearly well-heeled clientele.

Along one side a wall of windows gave an unparallelled view over the water, taking in Sydney’s premier sights from one vantage point. At night the green-lit Sydney Harbour Bridge managed to look both formidable and yet ghostly, and the sails of the Opera House were all sublime elegance and architectural splendour, the lights of the city towers making a spectacular backdrop.

But, while the views were magnificent, it was the menu—featuring the freshest seafood and the most tender grain-fed steak—that set the restaurant apart. After an afternoon when Alejandro had set her empty stomach on spin cycle, Leah found the choices almost overwhelming, finally settling for the simplest seafood dishes she could find.

Their order was taken, water delivered to the table and glasses filled, and it was all so civilised, the ambience so calming, that it was impossible not to relax. Mood music played softly in the background and Leah tuned in, turning her attention out of the window while Alejandro discussed wine choices with the waiter.

The view was stunning. Living in the depths of a Sydney suburb meant she rarely got a chance to appreciate the attractions of the harbour. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ she said as the wine waiter departed, taking in the view of the Opera House jutting into the dark waters of the harbour at night and finally feeling herself unwind a little. It didn’t hurt knowing that Alejandro could hardly take advantage of her in the midst of a public restaurant.

‘You are,’ he said. ‘Very beautiful.’

The words washed over her in a heated caress that set her nerves right back on edge again. She swivelled towards him, to set him straight, and their knees collided under the table in a tangle of heat. She angled her legs away, tucking them tightly behind one leg of her chair.

‘Please don’t say those things.’

‘Because the truth hurts?’

‘No. Because even if it were true it’s not your place to say it. Not any more.’

‘Since you walked out on me, you mean?’

The glimmer of ice in his charcoal eyes didn’t go unnoticed. It surprised her. She’d been the one to decide to leave the relationship, sure, but he’d made it crystal-clear as she’d fled that the feeling was mutual.

‘Since we separated and went our own ways, yes. So maybe we should find something else to talk about. Like my brother, for instance.’

The waiter arrived, proudly bearing the wine and expertly performing the uncorking ceremony. The wine had been tasted, judged perfect and poured in the space of less than a minute.

‘Maybe you’re right. We should change the subject,’ Alejandro agreed as the waiter disappeared as quietly as he’d arrived.

Leah looked up, surprised but encouraged that he wasn’t going to argue with her.

‘Maybe,’ he continued, ‘we could talk instead about that party in Monaco on Howard Finlayson’s boat. You were hot, you said, and needed some fresh air on deck.’

She looked from side to side, judging their distance from other diners and finding it wanting, despite the soft cover of the music. ‘I don’t think…’

He took her hand, sandwiching it between his own, and kept right on talking. ‘You were so hot you were on fire. I’d barely got outside that hatch and you were begging me to make love to you—demanding it—even though anyone could have discovered us at any moment. And so I did…’

It wasn’t just the words, it was the lazy circles his fingers were tracing on the top of her hand. Lazy circles triggering a response in her body that was anything but. ‘Alejandro! Stop.’

‘…so I hitched up your dress and we made love in the open air, right there against the railing, with nothing but the stars above and the lights of Monaco twinkling in the distance. And when you came, you called my name out so loud I had to plunge my tongue into your mouth and silence you with my kiss. Do you remember that?’

His shocking reminiscences should have made her livid. She should have been incensed. But the memories were too vivid, his sensual massage adding a tactile element to his words, and instead of feeling shocked she felt his words deep inside her in an aching, desperate need. A need she’d battled to keep a lid on ever since he’d walked back into her life. A need that was building even now like a pressing demand. And in that instant she knew without a shadow of a doubt that if she stayed even a moment longer she’d be lured back down that slippery slope into his sensual world.