One Night in... Rio: The Brazilian Millionaire's Love-Child / Virgin Mistress, Scandalous Love-Child / The Surgeon's Runaway Bride

He straightened and moved further into the room, and her eyes widened, half in apprehension, half with a sense of anticipation she’d never felt before. Pull yourself together, Belle, she instructed, deciding she must have sampled too much of the punch. But all he did was set the beer bottle he’d been carrying on the drainer, his lips quirking in amusement as if he noticed her not-so-subtle reaction.

Without going back to his original position, he paused and then said, ‘So, you must be Isobel, nao?’

‘Yes!’ Isobel inclined her head a little breathlessly. ‘Isobel Jameson.’ She hesitated. ‘And you are …?’

‘My name is Alejandro. Alejandro Cabral,’ he said, with a slight bow of his head. ‘Muito prazer.’

‘Oh, um, how do you do?’ Isobel was taken aback when he held out his hand towards her. She wasn’t used to such a formal introduction, though she guessed where he came from the old courtesies still survived.

‘I am very well, obrigado, Ms Jameson,’ he responded softly, taking the hand she offered in return and raising it to his lips.

But, although Isobel half-expected him to touch his lips to her knuckles, Alejandro turned her hand over and bestowed a warm kiss to her palm. And briefly she was almost sure she felt his tongue brush against her skin, although she was so bemused by the whole incident she might well have imagined it.

She would have withdrawn her hand immediately, and scrubbed her palm over the seam of her cream cotton trousers and pretended the kiss had never happened, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he continued to hold her hand, gazing intently into her eyes. And she knew he knew he was disconcerting her, as much by his audacity as by her unwilling response.

‘Mr Cabral …’

‘You may call me Alejandro,’ he interrupted huskily, and her mouth was suddenly dry. ‘So long as you permit me to call you Isobel. That is such a beautiful name. My grandmother’s name is Isobella. It is a very popular name in my country.’

Isobel ran her tongue over her dry lips, shaking her head half in bemusement, half in frustration. She didn’t know where he’d learned his skills in seduction, but she doubted it was here. She guessed he was—what?—twenty-five or twenty-six. And she was almost thirty. Yet he had a way of making her feel inexperienced and out of her depth.

‘You can call me what you like, er, Alejandro,’ she said. ‘As long as you let go of my hand.’ She managed to pull her fingers free and forced a smile. ‘I gather you’re not enjoying the party?’

He shrugged, broad shoulders moving sinuously beneath the expensive cloth of his shirt. ‘Are you?’ he countered, making no attempt to give her some space. He gestured about him. ‘Is that why you are hiding in here?’

Isobel arched brows that were several shades darker than her honey-streaked hair. ‘I’m not hiding,’ she assured him firmly. ‘If I were, I’m not making a very good job of it, am I?’

Alejandro regarded her between narrowed lids. ‘We could hide together,’ he suggested, putting out a hand and allowing a finger to trace the curve of her face from lip to jaw. ‘Would you like that?’

Isobel took an involuntary step backwards. ‘No. I wouldn’t like that!’ she exclaimed, impatient with herself now for allowing this to happen. Whatever impression she’d given, she wasn’t interested in a one-night stand. Let Julia satisfy his libido. She had no wish to get involved with anyone else.

But unfortunately there was an empty crate positioned right behind her. Almost losing her balance, Isobel grabbed the counter for support, her fingertips accidently brushing against the taut muscles of his midriff. Immediately, she felt the rush of heat she’d known when he’d touched her a few moments earlier but, when he would have reached to steady her, she hastily put some distance between them.

‘I think you ought to go back to the party, Mr Cabral,’ she said, despite the fact that she’d called him Alejandro already. ‘I’m sure Julia must be wondering where you are.’

‘And that is of importance why?’ he queried, his tone deepening intimately.

‘Well, because it’s probably very important to Julia,’ said Isobel tersely. Then, in an effort to lighten the conversation, ‘I expect you have lots of parties in Portugal.’

He shrugged, moving back to spread his arms along the counter behind him. ‘I do not have parties in Portugal,’ he remarked drily. ‘I am not Portuguese. I am Brazilian.’

Isobel’s lips parted, and for a moment she forgot her ankle, stinging courtesy of the beer crate, and the fact that she’d been trying to send him away. Her eyes widening, she said, ‘How fascinating! I’ve always wanted to visit South America.’

‘De verdade?’

She didn’t know what that meant, but she hurried on regardless. ‘So, are you working in London? Are you in advertising too?’

‘Ah, nao.’ His lips twisted mockingly. ‘Advertising myself is not my thing.’

‘I see,’ said Isobel, though secretly she thought it was a pity. She could quite see him walking naked out of a foaming ocean, promoting some sexy fragrance for men. ‘Um … so, what do you do?’ she hurried on, afraid the direction her thoughts were taking might show in her eyes. ‘Are you on holiday?’

‘De ferias?’ He sounded amused. And then, seeing her look of incomprehension, he explained, ‘On holiday? In England—in November? Acho que nao. I do not think so.’

‘Oh, well …’ Isobel told herself she wasn’t that interested, and reached for the bottle he’d discarded earlier. But it wasn’t until after she’d snatched it up that she realised it was still half full. Beer splashed stickily onto her shirt and she was obliged to stifle an oath. ‘Damn it,’ she said, unable to resist the expletive. ‘You should have warned me you hadn’t finished.’

‘Muita pena!’ Alejandro pushed himself away from the unit and took the offending bottle from her unresisting grasp. ‘I am so sorry,’ he said, tossing it into the sink behind her. He gazed down at the damp fabric clinging to and outlining the lacy cup of her half-bra. ‘What can I do to help?’ His fingers moved to the buttons on her shirt. ‘Por favor, let me take this off.’

Isobel gasped in disbelief, smacking his hand away. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she protested. His fingers looked so alien against the white linen. ‘Don’t do that! What if someone came in?’

Alejandro’s mouth took on a decidedly sensual curve, but he obediently shifted his hands to the narrow bones of her shoulders. ‘And that is the only reason you want me to stop?’ he queried, those curious amber eyes burning with a golden fire. ‘Muito bem.’

Isobel found she was actually trembling, and it infuriated her. For heaven’s sake, what was wrong with her? Even when she and David had first got together she’d never felt quite so vulnerable. Or so exhilarated, she admitted painfully.

‘I think you should let go of me, Mr Cabral,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong impression.’

‘And if I don’t want to?’ he murmured, his thumbs probing inside the neckline of her shirt.

‘I don’t think that matters,’ she retorted, refusing to let him see how he was disturbing her. ‘I don’t know what Julia’s told you about me, but I’m not interested in casual sex.’

That shocked him. She saw the sudden darkening of his eyes, the way the amber gave way to a much more sombre colour. But he still didn’t release her. ‘Nor am I,’ he informed her flatly. ‘And Julia has told me nothing about you. As surprising as that might seem.’

Isobel coloured. ‘I just meant …’

‘I know what you meant, querida.’ His eyes impaled her. ‘But somehow I do not think you are a virgin, nao?’

His fingers tightened a little and Isobel caught her breath. ‘I’m divorced,’ she told him shortly. ‘Now, please—I’d like you to let me go.’

‘Because I have offended you?’ His scowl was absurdly attractive. ‘That was not my intention.’

‘No?’ Isobel thought she knew exactly what he had intended. But right now she was more concerned with putting some breathing space between them. With his warm breath against her temple, and his fingers digging into her flesh, she was far too vulnerable. ‘Well, whatever you meant, I’m not interested in massaging your ego.’

‘My ego?’ he sounded amused. ‘So you think you know what kind of man I am?’

Isobel shifted in his grasp. ‘I think you’re too sure of yourself,’ she declared stiffly. ‘And, whatever you say, I doubt if you’re a virgin either.’

He grinned then, white teeth showing between the sensual contours of his lips. ‘Esta certo,’he said. ‘You are so right, cara. I have slept with women, sim. Would you like to know how many?’

‘No.’ She looked horrified now, and he gave a low laugh.

‘I did not think so,’ he said smugly, and, before she had an inkling of what he intended to do, he bent his head and caught the corner of her lower lip between his teeth.

He bit into the soft flesh, but the experience was more of a pleasure than a pain. His tongue stroked across her mouth, a sensuous exploration, and then his mouth covered hers and his tongue surged between her teeth.

One hand circled her neck, and she felt his fingers loosening the knot that bound her hair. She’d swept it up earlier, but she now realised how precarious it had become. Silky strands tumbled down about her ears and his knuckles, and his groan of satisfaction said it all.

Her muffled protest was only a half-hearted thing, the complete unexpectedness of what he was doing leaving her with an odd feeling of unreality. This couldn’t be happening, she thought. Not to someone like her. David had always said she was frigid, but in Alejandro’s arms the hot blood was fairly burning through her veins.

He moved so that she was pressed back against the counter, the hard strength of his body virtually moulded to hers. The kiss deepened and lengthened, and his hands sought her hips, bringing her fully against him, so that all thought of denying his love-making faded rapidly away …