A Deal Before the Altar

She would be able to slip away without seeing Santos, she reassured herself, especially at this early hour.

She washed her face in the en-suite bathroom, trying hard to remove the traces of last night’s make-up before applying fresh mascara and lipstick—all she’d been able to fit into her evening bag.

At the bedroom door she paused, took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart to calm before slowly opening it. Silence greeted her and she smiled, sure she was going to be able to slip away. With her bag in her hand and sandals dangling from her fingers she closed the door and padded softly along the wooden floor of the hallway, but as she entered the vast open living space the smell of strong coffee greeted her.

Her heart sank.

Someone was up.

Did Santos have a housekeeper who prepared breakfast for him? Yes, that must be it. Could she slip out without whoever it was in the kitchen noticing her? Quietly she walked across the huge room, feeling more like an intruder with every step.

‘Going somewhere?’

The deep, seductive tones of Santos’s voice halted her in her tracks. She turned to look at him and tried not to react to the sexy image he created in denims and a shirt. Casual suited him. But she didn’t want to dwell on that now.

‘Home, of course.’ She kept her voice bright, as if this scenario was one she was familiar with, and met his gaze. Lifting her chin, she made every effort to appear totally indifferent to him—which was hard when he stood before her, cool and powerful, just like the man who had haunted her through her dreams last night.

‘This early?’ He pushed back the cuff of his shirt and looked at his watch, a small smile lingering on his lips. ‘I think you have time for a coffee first. Even the most hardened shoppers aren’t about this early on a Saturday.’

‘It’s not the shoppers I’m worried about,’ she said with a huff of exasperation. ‘Emma will be wondering where I am.’

‘Precisely.’

The curt word made her blink, and despite her need to get away she walked towards him. As she did so Santos turned and headed back into the kitchen, its sleek design as contemporary as the rest of the apartment.

‘How do you take your coffee?’

‘This is a game to you, isn’t it?’ She really wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. ‘We were seen leaving the party together and your housekeeper will know I’ve spent the night. I think that is enough, don’t you?’

Santos didn’t answer, and she found herself mesmerised as he poured the coffee. In her chest her heart was pounding, and a whole stream of butterflies had taken flight in her stomach.

It’s not him, she told herself firmly. It’s just that you haven’t been in this situation for years. It was exactly this kind of awkward morning-after she had witnessed her mother and her lovers enduring, and exactly what she’d then gone and done herself as a naive young woman. But she’d changed, and repeating her past wasn’t something she wanted to do.

‘Try this.’ He took her sandals and bag from her and replaced them with a steaming mug of black coffee. ‘And even if my housekeeper had seen you—assuming she was working, that is—I would expect nothing other than her discretion.’

He smiled at her, and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered ever more wildly, but before she could respond he continued, ‘At least no one will know you didn’t sleep in my bed. That would really upset our plans.’

Georgina’s fingers burned, and she was sure it wasn’t just the mug of hot liquid in her hands. His touch, brief as it was, had jolted her with a voltage more powerful than any coffee. She took a sip—anything other than stand and look at him, fearing that if she did he would see just what an effect he was having on her.

‘We left the party together. It will have to be enough.’ She instilled as much courage into her voice as she could muster, which was difficult given the way her body now tingled.

Purposefully he moved past her, to place her shoes beneath a small ornamental table and drop her bag onto its glossy surface. His expression when he turned back to her was one of guarded control.

‘I’m not a man to do things by half, Georgina. If I do something, I do it properly.’ He stepped closer to her, the fresh scent of pine and his dark hair still slightly damp evidence that he’d recently showered.

She thought of his kiss last night at the party. The feel of his lips on hers, the way she hadn’t been able to do anything other than sway towards him, and knew he was right. He didn’t do anything by halves.

‘I’m sure you don’t, Mr Ramirez—’

‘Santos,’ he interrupted, his voice firm as he moved towards her.