A Spanish Affair

She wished he would stop looking at her. She wished he would start the car again. She wished she had never agreed to have this lift with him in the first place! ‘You don’t agree with me about Newbottle Meadow for a start.’ She forced an aggressiveness she didn’t really feel as an instinctive protection against her body’s response to his closeness.

‘I don’t have to agree with you to admire certain qualities inherent in your make-up,’ he returned softly.

‘No, I suppose not,’ she agreed faintly, deciding if she went along with him he would be satisfied he had made his point—whatever that was—and they could be on their way again.

He gave her a hard look. ‘Don’t patronise me, Georgie.’

‘Patronise you?’ She bristled instantly. ‘I wouldn’t dream of patronising you!’

The frown beetling his eyebrows faded into a quizzical ruffle. ‘But you enjoy challenging me, don’t you?’ he murmured in a softly provoking voice that stiffened Georgie’s back. ‘Do you know why you like doing that?’ he added in a tone that stated quite clearly he knew exactly what motivated her.

Because you are an egotistical, unfeeling, condescending—

He interrupted her thoughts, his voice silky smooth. ‘Because you are sexually attracted to me and you’re fighting it in a manner as old as time,’ he stated with unforgivable coolness.

For a moment she couldn’t believe he had actually said what she thought he had said, and then she shut her mouth, which had fallen open, before opening it again to snap, ‘It might be hard for you to accept, Mr de Capistrano, but not every female you look at feels the need to swoon at your feet!’ as she glared at him hotly.

‘I can accept that perfectly well,’ he returned easily, ‘but I’m talking about you, not anyone else.’ His expression was totally impassive, which made their conversation even more incredible in Georgie’s eyes. The colossal ego of the man, she thought wildly. ‘And I know I’m right because I feel the same way; I want you more than I’ve wanted a woman in a long time. For however long it lasted it would be good between us.’

Georgie fumbled with the door handle. ‘I’m not listening to this rubbish a second longer,’ she ground out through clenched teeth, more to stop her voice shaking than anything else.

‘You are going to look slightly…unusual walking through town with your present attire, are you not?’ Matt asked evenly as he glanced at the acres of rubber adorning her feet. ‘And there is no need to be embarrassed, Georgie. You want me, I want you—it is the most natural thing in the world. There’s even a rumour it’s what makes it go round. It doesn’t have to be complicated.’

The amusement in the dark face was the last straw. She turned on him like a small green-eyed cat, her eyes spitting sparks as she shouted, ‘You are actually daring to proposition me? In cold blood?’

‘Oh, is that what the matter is?’ His expression was hard to read now but she thought it was cynicism twisting the ruthless mouth. ‘You wanted a bouquet of red roses and promises of undying love and for everness? Sorry, but I don’t believe in either.’

‘I didn’t want anything!’

‘Then why are you so upset?’ he asked reasonably. ‘You could just tell me I’ve got it wrong without the melodrama, surely? It’s not the most dreadful thing in the world to be told you are desirable by a member of the opposite sex.’

Desirable. Matt de Capistrano thought she was desirable and, if she hadn’t got all this horribly wrong, he had been suggesting they have an affair. Georgie felt a churning in her stomach that wasn’t all fury, and it was only in that moment she acknowledged Matt knew her better than she knew herself. But she would die before she let him know that, she added with deadly resolve.

‘There are ways and ways of being told something,’ she said tightly, hearing the prim-sounding words with something of a mental wince.

‘I thought you appreciated honesty.’

‘I do!’ She glared at him, furiously angry that he was trying to make her feel bad about objecting to his stark proposal.

‘Let’s just test that statement, shall we?’ he suggested silkily, and before she could object she found herself in his arms. The kiss was as devastating as ever she had imagined—and she had imagined what it would be like to be held in his arms like this, she admitted silently. It was sweet and knowing and erotic, and the feel of him, the intoxicating exhilaration which was inflaming her senses and making her head spin, was irresistible.