Spanish Magnate, Red-Hot Revenge

There would be time for recriminations later. Besides, nothing was ever as good as the memory. Surely one kiss would inoculate her to Alejandro’s masculine charm. It was just what she needed to prove to herself he no longer meant a thing to her.

Her mouth parted and his tongue slipped inside. Big mistake.

But it was too late. She shuddered as she met him stroke for stroke. Was she out of her mind? She had to stop—but she didn’t want to. Not yet. For a moment she was flooded with memories—his mouth on hers, his naked skin beneath her fingers, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm. Ecstasy unlike any she’d ever known. Happiness and love and a feeling of rightness.

One of her hands threaded into his hair, luxuriated in its obsidian crispness. His fingers slid beneath her blouse, teased her nipple through the lace of her bra. It budded under his touch, sensitive and painful and neglected.

She held on to his shoulders, all sense of time and place leaching away as she lost herself in the hot need he called up. She very much feared that if he pressed her to the floor right now, ripped off her clothes and impaled her with his hard maleness, she’d wrap her legs around him and hold on for the ride. Just to feel that perfect rightness once more, even if it was only an illusion.

But, no, it was an illusion. She had to stop this. Now—

He broke the kiss first. “You’re still sizzling, Rebecca,” he said, his breath hot against her moist lips. “And you are still a slut.”

Her hand connected with his cheek before he could block the blow. He moved away from her, laughing. She thanked God for the fury coursing through her right now, because without it shame would have eaten her alive. How had she managed to lose every last shred of dignity she possessed the instant he kissed her?

“Then I guess we know where we stand,” she said, her breath razoring in and out. She would not hyperventilate. Not now. Stupid to let down her guard like that, to feel any softness at all toward this man. “And now I’d like to go to the hotel and get some rest—if you’re finished trying to humiliate me.”

“Your room is upstairs.”

She gaped at him. “I’m staying here? In your villa? Is that wise?” she added, on what she hoped was a cool note.

“I cannot possibly refuse paying guests simply to house an employee. You will stay here.”

An employee. The word grated like nothing else ever had. Worse, it stung that he could kiss her so hotly and then act as though it was nothing more than a joke. “Fine. But don’t you ever touch me again.”

His mouth twitched. “Are you sure about that? You were not so chilly a moment ago. Were you not remembering what it was like between us?”

She lifted her chin. No sense lying, because he’d see right through it. “You’re a fine lover, Alejandro, but you aren’t the only man who knows his way around a woman’s body. Men like you are easy to find if a woman knows where to look.”

“And where would that be?” His look was half amused, half curious.

“I believe they like to hang out at resorts and fleece rich women out of their money.”

His brows drew together. “You are calling me a gigolo?”

“Keep it in mind if the hotel thing doesn’t work out.”

He threw back his head and laughed. Rebecca had to bite her lip to keep from grinning at the sound. She’d always loved his laugh. But the last thing she needed was to share a light moment with this man. He’d just stolen her company and ruined her career. The thought was enough to harden her resolve.

He reached for the phone on his desk, touched a button. “Señora Flores will show you to your room.” She was almost to the door when his voice stopped her. “And do not worry, Rebecca. I have no intention of ever again accepting what you offer each time you look at me.”

Rebecca’s spine snapped ramrod-straight. “What’s that? Sudden death? Because if you see anything else, you are a deluded man.”

“Do not make me prove you wrong again.”

She gave him her best glare, the one she’d perfected as a woman working hard to succeed in a man’s business. “Try me when I’m no longer jet-lagged, Alejandro. I promise you the response will be much different.”

Alejandro returned to the villa late, having spent several hours at his sleek downtown office. He tossed his jacket across a chair in the master suite, loosened his tie and tugged it from his collar. He started to pour a drink from the bar in his room, but changed his mind and pulled on a pair of swim trunks instead. Right now he needed the release heavy exercise could bring.

He hadn’t expected Rebecca Layton to get under his skin ever again. It was purely physical now, and yet it annoyed him nonetheless. He’d spent one month with her five years ago. One incredibly hot month that he couldn’t seem to forget, no matter how he tried. He’d enjoyed her company like none other. Enjoyed the way she’d looked at him, the way she’d smelled like wildflowers, and her funny way of saying things that meant something entirely different in American than they did in the British English he’d learned.

He’d cared for her; he’d planned to marry her in spite of what his father expected. No matter what he told her now, he hadn’t been promised at all; it had been his brother who was to marry Caridad Mendoza, not him. Until Roberto had died of a drug overdose in a Middle Eastern hellhole.

Still, Alejandro had no intention of taking his brother’s place in the arrangement. He’d spent years fighting in the ring, making himself into something. His future had been bright and he’d choose his own wife. Rebecca Layton, daughter of a successful American hotel magnate, had been exactly the type of woman he needed to marry.

Until she’d betrayed him. An ex-bullfighter and fledgling entrepreneur wasn’t good enough for the pampered heiress, apparently. The dirt, sweat and blood of the ring would never wash completely away for someone like her. She’d accepted him as her lover, sworn she loved him, and then tried to steal his future from under his nose.

Her betrayal had cost him more than he could ever make her pay. Taking Layton International was only the beginning. He’d set it up carefully, made sure he would own her completely when it was done. It had taken years of planning and months of careful execution, but the culmination was here. Rebecca Layton would regret the day she’d crossed paths with him.

Alejandro pushed open the French doors and padded out to the pool. Lights flooded the water from below, illuminating the terracotta and turquoise tiles. He dove into the coolness, hoping it would drive the heat of kissing her from his memory.

Why had he succumbed to the urge? That one kiss had brought every bittersweet memory flooding back—especially when she’d clung to him, her soft moans coiling at the base of his spine, poisoning him with the urge to strip her naked and take her right there on the floor of his office.

“What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?”

Alejandro reached the wall, did a flip turn and propelled himself back toward the voice.

“Swimming.” The water came up to his abdomen as he stood and looked at her.

“Not that,” she said. “This.” Rebecca thrust a handful of papers at him.

He ignored it and let his gaze wander over her sleek form. A red headband held her curls back from her face and matched the muted Hawaiian-print dress she wore. Slim legs tapered down to bare feet, but it was the circle of tiny white shells around one ankle that caught his attention. They caressed her ankle with every tap of her foot, kissed her bare skin like a lover.

Like he’d once done.

His gaze snapped to her face. “Those would be my plans to sell off a few of Layton’s less lucrative holdings.”

She took a step toward the pool. “The New York location? New York? Are you crazy?”

“Not at all. That hotel is small, outdated. It costs more in upkeep each year than it makes in profit.”

The papers crinkled in her fist. “Why do you hate me so much?” she said, in a smaller voice than he would have expected.

She seemed almost bewildered. But it was a ploy. She would use anything to distract him, including sex. How well he knew that about her.

Her poor little me act angered him. “You know why. You used me to get information. You slept with me, then stole what you learned about the London deal to grab it for yourself. That move nearly destroyed Ramirez Enterprises.”

Ramirez Enterprises had been little more than bravado and a dream back then. But losing the Cahill Group’s financing had destroyed far more precious things than his fledgling enterprise. He wasn’t about to tell her what she’d really cost him—what she’d forced him into to save everything.

She tilted her head to one side. “I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?” he said, when she stopped speaking and stood there gazing off into space.

“You’re lying.” She crossed her arms and glared down at him. “You couldn’t possibly be wiped out by one deal gone bad.”

Of course she didn’t realize how he’d struggled. She’d never struggled for anything a day in her life. From her first moments everything had been handed to her on a silver platter. He very much enjoyed being the one to take it all away.

Alejandro pressed his hands on the pool deck and levered himself out of the water. She took a step backward as he suddenly towered over her. He wanted to grab her, wanted to yank her into his arms and plunder her sweet mouth again. He turned away before his body betrayed his reaction to her. “Things were less certain then.”