Spring Bride

“Yes?” she said. “What is it?”

A muscle knotted in Antonio’s cheek “I own an island off the coast. It’s called San Sebastian. When I am in this part of the world, it is where I live. It is where I was headed this evening before you leaped out into the road.”

“I’m sure that’s very interesting,” she said impatiently, “but what has it to do with me?”

His smile was slow and dangerous enough to make her breath catch.

“You will live on my island for a week, Kyra. At the end of that time, I will—”

Kyra’s temper ignited like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July. She rose from the table so swiftly that her chair fell back and clattered to the floor. The restaurant went silent; every eye turned to her again but she didn’t care.

“I’d sooner live in the street!”

Antonio laughed. “How about a cell?” he said, his voice silken. “Does that have equal appeal?”

Kyra tossed her napkin on the table. Head high, she marched through the room and out the door.

He took his time pushing back his chair and getting to his feet, waving off Carlos as he came hurrying forward.

“It’s quite all right,” he said, and tossed a fat wad of bills on the table.

He saw her as soon as he stepped outside, walking swiftly along the road. He got in the car and set out after her. When he drew alongside, he put the transmission in neutral and stepped out.

Kyra swung around as soon as he touched her shoulder, her hands flailing in fury.

“Get away from me!”

Antonio laughed softly. He put his arms around her, drew her slowly to him despite the ferocity of her struggles.

“If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream!”

“Scream, Kyra Perhaps the policía will come.” He bent his head until his mouth was a whisper from hers. “And then you can choose between their hospitality and mine.”

“I’ll kill you for this, Antonio, so help me…I’ll—”

His mouth came down on hers, hard and hot and hungry. She beat her fists against his chest, sank her teeth into his lip, but nothing could stop him He kept kissing her, his lips moving on hers, his tongue stroking across the seam of her mouth, until, with a little sob, she did what he wanted, what she wanted, and opened her mouth to him.

Antonio drew her tightly against him. Kyra felt her breasts flatten against his chest, felt the race of his heart against hers. His hands slipped to her bottom; he lifted her up toward him so that his erection pressed hard against the cradle of her femininity…

And then he let go of her.

Her eyes flew open; she stared at him and felt as if she were awakening from the deepest of dreams.

“You see, querida,” he said calmly, “if I wanted you, I would have you.” He folded his arms, his expression impassive. “But I do not want you.”

He saw the confusion and the vulnerability flash across her face. For the space of a heartbeat he hesitated—but then he remembered who he was and who he had been, and his face hardened.

“Have you ever worked for your living?” He smiled tightly, his eyes on hers, and his voice became almost gentle. “Never mind,” he said. “I am sure we both know the answer.”

She stared at him. “What are you driving at, Antonio?”

“I will employ you for a week’s time, at the end of which I will see to it that you have a passport and a visa so you may leave the country unhindered. And I will pay you enough to get you home in the fashion to which you are accustomed.”

“Employ me?” she said, her eyes searching his in puzzlement. “Give me a job, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“But—but doing what?”

His lips drew back from his teeth. “A good question. After all, what could a woman such as you do that would be of benefit to anyone?” His shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug. “I have a housekeeper. I shall let Dolores determine your skills and put you to work accordingly.”

Kyra said nothing for a moment and then she gave a nervous laugh.

“This is a joke, right?”

The smile faded from Antonio’s face. “I have never been more serious,” he said coldly. “Now, make up your mind. Do you go with me to San Sebastian, or do I take you to the police station and let you try to convince them of your situation?”

She stared at him while the seconds flew by, overwhelmed by how much she hated this man! She was burning with the desire to spit in that arrogant face, to claw out those deep blue eyes…

“Well? What is your decision?”

“I’ll be your bloody servant for a week,” she said, her voice shaking with anger, “but I promise, Antonio, I’ll get even someday.”

Head high, she swept past him and got into the car.

CHAPTER FIVE

THAT Antonio del Rey owned a small, sleek plane he flew himself came as no surprise to Kyra

Sitting beside him in the cockpit of the Cessna as the lights of the mainland slipped away beneath them, she thought wearily that nothing would ever surprise her again.

How could it, after today?

Kyra glanced at the small digital clock that glowed on the instrument panel. Twelve hours had passed since she’d stepped happily out of her cabin on the Empress of the Caribbean and set off for what should have been a pleasant day of sight-seeing and shopping. Instead, she’d been robbed, assaulted, abandoned—and now she was being carried off to who-knew-where by a South American tyrant!

She was furious with Antonio but almost as furious with herself. How could she have given in to such outand-out blackmail? Wasn’t she the woman who was done with letting men tell her what to do?

Damn! She should have told him to drive her straight to the door of the nearest police station.

“I’d rather take my chances with them,” she should have said, “than go anywhere with a macho ape like you!”

Surely she wasn’t the first tourist to find herself in such a fix.

Kyra looked out the window. The lights of the mainland had slipped away beneath them. They were flying over water now; except for a thin crescent moon, they were wrapped in inky blackness.

A knot of fear suddenly lodged in her throat.

My God, she thought, what am I doing?

She turned toward Antonio, her heart pounding. She had to tell him she’d changed her mind, demand that he turn the Cessna around and take her back.

But she couldn’t do that. All she had left was her pride, and she was determined to get out of this with that pride intact. She hadn’t a clue as to why Antonio wanted to humiliate her but she’d be damned if she’d make it easy for him.

She had no idea how much time had passed before she felt the angle of the plane change. They were starting their descent.

Kyra’s hands knotted together in her lap. Take deep breaths, she told herself. Think calm thoughts.

The Cessna’s landing lights illuminated a narrow landing strip carved out of the trees. The wheels touched down lightly and the plane gradually rolled to a stop.

Antonio shut off the engine and the silence of the tropical night surrounded them.

“We have arrived,” he said.

Kyra looked at him. Her heart was beating so quickly she was afraid it might burst through her chest but she met his gaze coolly.

“I’m glad you told me,” she said. “I never would have guessed.”

She could see his jaw tighten. “It is late, and I am sure you are as tired as I am. I suggest we dispense with any verbal games and go to the house.”

The house? What house? She couldn’t see anything out there but the darkness. Where were all the people? Where were the roads and the lights from cars speeding along them?

“If you have any questions that cannot wait until morning, ask them now.”

She had a dozen questions, starting with wanting to know why he was doing this to her, but she’d sooner have choked than ask even one.

“What? No questions?”

?

??None.”

“Good.” He smiled tightly. “In that case, welcome to my island.”

She stared after him as he opened the door and dropped lightly to the ground. A bubble of wild laughter rose in her throat. Welcome to his island? He had to be kidding Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

Wait a minute. What did he mean, his island? Surely San Sebastian couldn’t be his alone. Surely he hadn’t meant that.

“Kyra?”

She turned to the door just behind her. Antonio was standing on the ground, looking up at her. He held out his hand.