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

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Isobel heard the angry exclamation as if from a distance. But its significance didn’t register until sharp nails dug into her arm and she was wrenched away from Alejandro.

Then she saw Julia, and the look on her friend’s face brought a damning feeling of shame. It took the place of what she described to herself later as utter euphoria; she was certain she must have been out of her mind.

‘Julia,’ she said, turning towards her. ‘I—it’s not what you think.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Julia wasn’t convinced. ‘My God, is that blood on your shirt?’

Isobel half-wished it was, then she could claim that Alejandro had only been comforting her. But she doubted Julia would believe that either. ‘It’s beer,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘I spilled it all over me.’

‘That’s not all that’s been all over you.’ Julia was bitter. ‘I thought we were friends, Issy.’

‘We are—’

‘So are you drunk or what? God, aren’t there enough men here for you to choose from without hitting on my date?’

‘Julia—’

‘Se fez favor. Excuse me.’ Alejandro had been silently listening to their exchange, but now he intervened. ‘I came to the party alone, Julia,’ he told her coldly. ‘I may be many things, but I am not your date.’

‘Oh, please—’

Isobel tried again, her gaze barely glancing off Alejandro’s scowling face. She didn’t dare look at him properly, didn’t dare acknowledge something to him that she dared not acknowledge to herself.

Nevertheless, she registered his stillness, the fact that he’d pushed those long-fingered hands into the back pockets of his jeans. She could still feel those hands caressing her, she thought fancifully, but his expression didn’t match her thoughts.

‘We were together earlier!’ Julia exclaimed, looking at Alejandro. ‘You wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for me.’

‘I did not know your invitation came with—how do you say?—strings attached,’ he retorted icily. ‘You forget yourself, Julia. I do not need your permission to speak with Ms Jameson.’

‘To speak with her?’ Julia scoffed. ‘Is that what you call it? When I came in, you had your tongue halfway down her throat.’

‘And that concerns you how?’ His accent was thickening, Isobel noticed. ‘I suggest you leave us, Julia. We are not innocents who require you as a—a chaperon, nao?’

‘Um—perhaps Mr Cabral should leave,’ Isobel ventured, not looking at him as she spoke. ‘It is getting very late.’

She heard his sudden intake of breath at her words. ‘You do not mean this!’ he exclaimed harshly, but before she could respond Julia intervened.

‘She does,’ she said, her expression triumphant. ‘Bye bye, Alex. I’ll see you next week.’

Isobel’s gaze darted from Julia’s face to Alejandro’s. What was that supposed to mean? But he was already striding towards the door, and for a moment she thought he was going to leave without speaking again.

However he halted on the threshold, gripping the frame of the door with one hand, the other pushing back the tumbled darkness of his hair. ‘This is not over, Isobel,’ he informed her softly, and she didn’t know whether that was a threat or a promise. ‘Volto mais tarde.’ And what did that mean? ‘Boa noite, senhoras. Goodnight.’

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER Alejandro had gone, there was an uncomfortable silence. Then Julia said, ‘That was fun, wasn’t it?’

Isobel pressed her lips together. ‘Yes, well, I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.’ She glanced down at her wristwatch, noticing the way her shirt was clinging to her, and cringing at the image she presented. ‘It’s late, as I said. Perhaps it would be a good idea if we wrapped things up now. It’s after one, and—’

‘You’re not serious?’ Julia’s jaw dropped in disbelief. ‘Issy, you can’t. Things are just beginning to heat up.’ She made an impatient gesture. ‘Just because you got a little tight and made a pass at Alex, I’m not going to throw a wobbly. We’ve been friends too long to let a man—’

Isobel lifted a hand to silence her. ‘How do you know him anyway? And what did you mean when you said you’d see him next week?’

‘Oh.’ Julia looked coy now. ‘Didn’t he tell you? Well, I don’t suppose he had the chance, did he? We—that is, the agency—are doing some work for his company. Cabral Leisure is pretty big in South America. They’re wanting to break into the European market, and our agency was the one they picked to promote them here.’

‘Oh.’ Isobel nodded. ‘Oh, I see.’

‘Yeah. Our Alex belongs in the big league, Issy. That was why I was so upset when I saw you two together.’

‘Really?’

Isobel wasn’t prepared to believe that, but Julia hurried on. ‘I mean it, Issy. No one was more surprised than me when he accepted my invitation. I guess he must have been bored, yeah? Guys like him don’t come slumming very often.’

Isobel turned away, gathering up the empty cans strewn about the worktops and dropping them into the waste bin. She was tempted to say that her apartment was certainly not a slum, but she didn’t want to give Julia another excuse to patronise her. Besides, if he was as wealthy as Julia was implying, the other girl was probably right. At least, about him not mixing with the common herd every day.

‘Anyway, just because he’s walked out doesn’t mean we have to ruin the party,’ Julia continued when Isobel didn’t bite. ‘Another hour, Issy. Pretty please? Then I’ll get the gang out of here, I promise.’

Alejandro walked back to his hotel.

It was a fairly warm night for London in November, which was just as well, because in his haste he’d left his leather jacket at Isobel’s apartment.

It hadn’t been a deliberate choice, he assured himself. He’d just been so angry when she’d asked him to leave that he hadn’t thought about anything but getting out of there.

Now, the idea of seeing Isobel again intrigued him. As his temper cooled, he remembered her sweetness before Julia had interrupted them—the softness of her skin, the unexpected provocation of her mouth.

Isobel, he mused. Isobella. She’d certainly been different from the other girls at the party. Her almost shy manner reminded him of the girls back home, though he guessed Isobel had never had a chaperon breathing down her neck.

Except Julia …

His lips twisted. When she’d invited him to the party, he’d intended to decline. Although he’d been working with the agency, he wasn’t in the habit of mixing business with pleasure. But she’d been so insistent, he’d eventually given in. After all, despite the wishes of his parents, he had no serious commitments elsewhere.

He scowled. He didn’t want to think about Miranda at this moment. Not when thoughts of Isobel were foremost in his mind. She’d felt so good in his arms, warm, soft and sexy. He wondered how old she was. His own age, he guessed, but she looked younger. It was unbelievable that she’d been married and divorced. She seemed so innocent somehow. He knew he wanted to see her again. But would she want to see him?

Disappointingly, she wasn’t at home when he called at her apartment the next morning. Instead, a garrulous old woman came out of the adjoining apartment and accosted him.

‘Are you looking for Mrs Jameson?’ she demanded, and Alejandro, who wasn’t used to being spoken to in such a manner, felt his hackles rising. ‘Anyway, she’s not here,’ the woman went on fussily, apparently unaware of giving any offence. ‘She went out first thing this morning, though how she expects to do a day’s work when none of us got a wink of sleep last night is beyond me.’

‘Ah.’ Alejandro was beginning to understand her reaction.

‘Were you at the party?’ she asked. Then, answering her own question, ‘No, I don’t suppose you were, or you’d not have expected her to be up yet.’

Alejandro didn’t bother to correct her. ‘You said Mrs Jameson, senhora. I understood the lady was divorced, nao?’

The woman’s eyes widened suspiciously, as if she’d just realised he wasn’t English, but she answered him anyway. ‘She is,’ she confirmed. ‘Or that’s what she told the landlord when she moved into the apartment.’

‘I see.’ Alejandro didn’t allow his relief to show. ‘Muito bem; I will have to return later, perhaps, when Mrs Jameson is at home.’