LITMIR.BIZ

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I guess we’ll just have to spend time together—get to know one another a bit better.’ She sipped her coffee and looked out at the sea, its ever-moving waves sparkling like diamonds, before turning her attention back to him.

      ‘Exactamente.’

      His gaze held hers, dark and passionate, sending shivers down her spine, and she wondered if she could do this. But if Emma was to stand any chance of making her wedding arrangements in peace she had to ensure they stayed in Spain.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, alarmed at how husky her voice had suddenly become, how easily she could slip into the role of seductress.

      ‘We’ll sail further along the coast. There is a secluded cove we can stop at—a good place to swim in the sea.’

      He smiled at her again. Her heart flipped over and butterflies took flight in her stomach. Perhaps it wouldn’t be hard, keeping him occupied, because she really did want to. He was so very different from the man she’d first met in his office, the man her sister had talked of. This man consumed her very soul—made her want him and the dreams she’d long since forgotten.

      ‘I’d like that.’ A blush crept over her cheeks as she met his gaze before it slid down over her body, taking in all that the bikini did very little to hide.

      ‘For my beautiful bride—anything.’ He stood and leant down over her, his lips hovering tantalisingly close to hers as she looked up at him.

      His breath was warm on her face and she resisted the need to close her eyes, wanting to see his. With excruciating slowness he brought his lips down onto hers, the sensation sending sparks of awareness all over her until she could only close her eyes, give in to the pleasure of his lips as they brushed gently over hers.

      The kiss ended and he stood upright, dominating the sheltered outside area of the yacht. ‘I will go and make arrangements while you enjoy breakfast.’

      She watched him stride away, his casual jeans hugging his long legs to perfection. She shook her head briefly, trying to stop the images of last night, memories of his tanned body against her pale skin.

      In a bid to quell her rising desire she turned her attention to the breakfast, not sure if she could eat anything. But the array of fresh fruit and the lure of warm croissants soon won her appetite over.

      She became aware of the coastline receding, the yacht moving smoothly through gently rolling waves. Excitement fizzed inside her. It was like being young again.

      She’d been happy before life had plunged her into a situation she really hadn’t wanted. Her whole outlook on life had been carefree and full of adventure until the night her father had left. Now those memories were the reason she’d promised herself she’d never have children—because what would happen if she became like her mother? What would happen if she too went from one man to the next, looking endlessly for something that didn’t exist, ignoring her children to the point of neglect?

      ‘Why so sad, querida?’

      Santos’s accented voice shattered her thoughts as surely as if she’d been viewing them through a mirror.

      ‘I was just remembering.’ Quickly she tried to hide her emotions, recreate the impenetrable wall she hid behind, because right now her defences were low. Too low. And Santos was watching her with such unexpected sympathy she almost couldn’t look at him.

      ‘We all have things we shouldn’t remember, but sometimes it helps to talk.’

      His tone was soothing and reassuring. He sat next to her, taking her hand, his thumb stroking over the back of it gently. His concern as genuine as a lover’s. She wanted to pull away, to distance herself from him. She felt utterly exposed, as if every emotion was completely visible to him.

      ‘It was just my excitement as I realised the yacht was moving,’ she said, aware of the hoarseness in her voice. ‘It’s like being young again.’

      He nodded once, his eyes full of understanding. ‘What happened?’

      ‘My mother found solace in the bottle after my father left.’ Her heart thumped hard as pent-up anger flowed through her like a tidal wave—one that couldn’t be halted now as it roared towards the shore. ‘I had no choice but to care for Emma, try and shield her from it all. I had to grow up very quickly.’

      ‘Shield her from what, Georgie?’

      She looked up at him. His voice was now hard and controlled, his eyes narrowed and his brows pulling together in concentration.

      She shouldn’t be telling him this. It had nothing to do with him, and would serve no purpose whatsoever, but it was liberating to finally share it with someone.

      ‘What was it, Georgina?’ he urged as her silence lengthened.

      He reached out and pushed back the hair from her face and she dropped her gaze, not wanting to see the sympathy in his eyes. How could a man as ruthless and in control as Santos possibly understand?

      ‘Tell me, Georgie.’

      One hand stroked her hair whilst the other held firmly onto her hand. She had no means of escape, no way out.

      What would he think of her if she told him?

      ‘At first she was just incapable of looking after us—that was unless she was in the throes of a new affair—but soon it was down to me to get Emma to school, to put a meal on the table.’

      He stopped stroking her hair, his hand resting on her shoulder, warm and comforting. ‘Go on.’

      Those first words had unleashed all her hurt and she knew she should stop. She shrugged, not wanting to allow him any closer emotionally.

      ‘So I got out as soon as an opportunity presented itself. I had to. It was the only way of keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table. Any money my mother had was spent on what she considered important—not on what actually was, like food and rent.’

      He sat back from her, his hands falling to his thighs, silent for a moment as he took in what she’d said. ‘That opportunity being your marriage to Richard Henshaw?’ His voice was hard, a slight growl in his throat.

      She looked up at him. He really did think she’d married purely for the money and status Richard had given her. Words of defence were on the tip of her tongue, but something stopped her, froze them as if the warm sea breeze had changed to a bitter winter wind. Instead she wanted to tell him—wanted him to know.

      ‘He offered me everything I wanted—and more.’

      She sat taller in her seat and looked him in the eye. For a moment she’d almost told him the truth—told him how Richard had literally rescued her, offering her security for Emma and asking for nothing other than that she took his name. But sense had prevailed. If he wanted to think of her as a gold-digging socialite then he could.

      ‘And, yes,’ she added, with the haughty tone she knew made her sound so like the woman he thought she was resounding in her voice, ‘I married him for his money and his status. But you can’t accuse me of hiding that from you. Not when it is common knowledge.’

      * * *

      Santos’s stomach hardened as his breath came fast. He clenched his teeth against an attack of jealousy as he imagined Georgina with another man—one she’d just admitted she’d had no feelings for. She hadn’t attempted to hide the fact that she’d used a man who must have known he was ill when he married her.

      She’d used Richard and she sat there now with the innocence of a child and waited for his reaction. He was angry with himself—angry at the irrational jealousy that raged inside him just thinking of her with another man. She was his wife, and what he felt for her now surpassed anything he’d felt for previous lovers.

      ‘We all have a past, querida.’ He kept his tone as nonchalant as possible, regretting having started the conversation. He’d known of her reputation when he’d agreed to their ludicrous deal, so why did it matter so much?

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