Australia: Sinful Secrets: Public Marriage, Private Secrets / Every Girl's Secret Fantasy / The Heart Surgeon's Secret Child

‘Yes or no, Gianna.’

She cast him a disparaging look. ‘In case you haven’t done your homework, I run this boutique with one part-time member of staff. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t leave at a moment’s notice.’

‘I wasn’t aware I’d asked that of you.’

‘Really? The man who snaps his fingers and every employed minion jumps to obey your command?’

Amusement lifted the edges of his mouth. ‘You are not one of my minions.’

‘Hallelujah.’

‘Have dinner with me, and we’ll discuss whatever arrangements you need to make.’

‘I don’t recall saying yes, yet.’

‘You didn’t need to.’ The dry tones held a degree of mockery…something she chose to ignore. There was the temptation to stand her ground, except it would prove an exercise in futility.

Without a further word, she crossed to the serving counter and dealt with the sales register, where it took only minutes to check folding money, credit slips, assemble the cash float. When she was done, she dimmed the overhead lights, collected her bag, engaged security and indicated they should leave.

Raúl loomed large at her side as they walked towards the escalator, and she was all too aware of his close proximity not to mention how he affected her.

It wasn’t fair to feel like this after an absence of three years. Hateful to be transported back to a time when she’d lived for him…only him. Even thinking about him had made her happy, and as soon as he’d appeared it had been all she could do not to break into a quickened pace and leap into his arms.

The way he’d laugh and hold her close, nuzzle the soft curve at the edge of her neck…then cover her mouth with his own in a kiss that reached down into her soul.

Heaven, she reflected as she stepped off the escalator, feeling momentarily bereft that what they’d once shared had been lost.

‘I’m staying at the resort directly opposite.’ Raúl indicated as he joined her. ‘We’ll eat there.’

‘I have plans for the evening.’ Some plans, she reiterated silently. Drive home, change, feed Jazz, make herself something to eat, watch television, then call it a night.

He spared her a level look. ‘Postpone them.’

Gianna turned to confront him. ‘And if I choose not to?’

‘Do you particularly want to indulge in a verbal fencing match?’

He was standing too close, and she was suddenly all too aware of the subtle aroma of his cologne, light with musky undertones. Indisputably his, as if crafted especially for him.

It stirred her senses and awakened too many sensitive nerve-endings for her peace of mind.

Raúl’s eyes narrowed fractionally, almost as if he knew, and it irked unbearably…so much so she raked his tall frame from head to foot and back again with slow deliberation.

‘Let’s get one thing straight.’ She took a deep calming breath. ‘If I agree, it’ll be on my terms,’ she qualified as her eyes seared his own with unblinking determination. ‘It’ll take days, possibly a week, for me to organise staff, contact my clientele, suppliers, ensure there will be no hiccups with replacement stock arriving on time. When that’s in place, I’ll take the first available flight to Madrid, arrange hotel accommodation, and inform you of my arrival.’ There was more, and she delivered the words with precise care. ‘Meantime, I suggest you return to Madrid.’

‘That’s it?’ he queried silkily.

‘Yes.’

He regarded her with dispassionate imperturbability. ‘No.’

‘No—what?’

‘We’ll return together in my private jet, and hotel accommodation isn’t an option.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

Only a fool would refuse to travel in the maximum comfort afforded by luxury fittings which included a lounge that converted easily into a working office, a bedroom with en suite bathroom…and being served by a personal in-flight attendant.

Except it meant endless air hours secluded in Raúl’s company something she’d do almost anything to avoid.

‘I’d prefer to take a commercial flight.’

For a long moment he regarded her with lazy appreciation, and there was nothing she could do to still the increased tempo of her heart…or the faint shivery sensation feathering her fine body hairs.

‘Teresa has a full complement of medical staff on hand. The villa in Mallorca is large, and she insists you stay there as her guest.’

Mallorca? ‘I don’t think…’

‘Determined to fight me on every issue, Gianna?’

‘You expect anything less?’

‘Shall we call a temporary truce?’

She looked at him carefully. ‘It’s been a long day. I have work to do and calls to make.’

‘In which case you can eat and leave. An hour, Gianna…or less.’

Reluctance vied with determination to prove she was immune to him. A distinct untruth, if ever there was one, but she refused to concede him so much as a glimmer of satisfaction. You can do this, she vaunted silently.

She effected a seemingly careless shrug. ‘I guess so.’

Raúl spared her a musing glance and caught the faint air of tension apparent in her demeanour. She reminded him of a gazelle, uncertain whether to trust or flee.

With good reason, he admitted silently as he indicated the escalator at the eastern end of the spacious forecourt.

For flee she certainly would if she suspected there was another reason for Teresa’s request. One infinitely more precious than the personal gift of a few heirlooms, or the pleasure of spending time in Gianna’s company.

The fervent hope Teresa held for a reconciliation between her son and the young woman he’d taken as his wife.

A young woman so well matched to his needs it seemed almost a crime for the marriage to have fallen apart.

Dusk was falling as they crossed the overhead pedestrian walkway to the popular low-level resort. Already streetlights shone, and in the distance the tall concrete sentinels harbouring luxury apartments bore illumination against a darkening skyscape.

The expansive resort foyer, with its plush oriental carpet squares and large comfortable chairs, bore a Caribbean air which extended to a wide marble staircase leading down to ground level. A magnificent waterfall cascaded into a decorative pool, and beyond huge thick plate glass lay an extensive swimming pool, with an island bar fronting on to a sandy foreshore and the sparkling blue waters of the Pacific Ocean.

The à la carte restaurant held a small clientele as the maître d’ led the way to a table by the window, saw them seated, and summoned the drinks steward.