One Night in Buenos Aires: The Vásquez Mistress

Confused and infuriated with herself, she was about to turn away when his eyes opened and he saw her.

For a moment they just stared at each other and she felt her cheeks burn as she saw the sudden flare of heat in his eyes. Every feminine part of her exploded with awareness and she knew from the sudden tension in his shoulders that he was experiencing the same powerful reaction.

Acknowledging the strength of the force that drew them together, he gave a cynical laugh. ‘Complicated, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ It would have been foolish to pretend that she didn’t know what he was talking about. She stood for a moment, trying to catch her breath, needing to speak and not knowing how to say what needed to be said. ‘I didn’t mean to force your hand. I thought we were good together.’

‘We were.’

‘But—you never would have wanted marriage.’

‘No.’ His face was closed, uncommunicative and she looked at him with mounting frustration.

‘Why? If a relationship is good, marriage just makes it better.’

His laugh hurt more than any harsh words. ‘And we’re a case in point, are we?’

‘Is there anything left between us?’

His answer was to rise to his feet and stride across to her. Without bothering to speak, he closed his fingers around her wrist, pulled her hard against him. ‘How can you ask that, when this thing between us has been choking us since the day we met?’

Without giving her a chance to reply, he brought his mouth down on hers.

As kisses went, this one wasn’t gentle but she didn’t even care. It was an explosion of mutual need, an acknowledgement of the passion and chemistry that kept both of them locked together when external forces might have driven them apart.

Excitement swamped her, her head swam with a rush of dizzying pleasure and she would have slid to the floor if he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her.

They kissed with desperation, their mouths locked together in a furious, reckless urgency that exploded away the flimsy barriers that had been erected between them.

It was only when his hand touched her breast that Faith regained sufficient mental ability to realise what she was doing.

‘We can’t fix problems with sex,’ she groaned, but the erotic skill of his mouth stole the words and her body shivered against his. ‘Raul, this is just too complicated to solve in this way—’

‘Life is complicated,’ he muttered, his lips trailing down the line of her jaw. ‘In real life, people are complicated and they behave in complicated ways.’

‘You didn’t think about my feelings.’

He lifted his head and looked at her. ‘Both of us were guilty of that.’ His return shot scored a direct hit and she stiffened.

‘With hindsight I can see that I should have told you I’d lost the baby, but my reasons for not telling you were unselfish.’ Her stumbled admission received no more response than a raised eyebrow and a careless lift of his shoulders.

‘If there’s one thing that the last few months has proved, it’s that neither of us knows the other as well as we thought.’ His handsome face was grim. ‘That is common. It’s the reason that so many marriages end in divorce. We can change that, Faith. But not if you run.’

She looked at him, torn by indecision, her head full of problems and questions. Logic told her to do one thing, her heart another.

‘If I stay, I won’t let you hurt me again,’ she warned in a voice that shook with emotion. ‘Don’t ever hurt me again.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

IT FELT strange being back when she’d thought she’d never see the place again.

Faith sat in silence in the back of the limousine as it drove through the ornate iron gates that guarded the entrance of the estancia.

She couldn’t quite believe she was actually here.

What if she was making the biggest mistake of her life by giving their marriage another chance?

She sighed and stared out of the window. Obviously she was just a pushover for a big, arrogant South American male.

But she knew it was more than that.

She loved him and she couldn’t just switch that off.

And she loved Argentina.

Despite the nagging ache in her head and the dull feeling of nausea in her stomach, part of her felt lighter just for being here. After the noise and bustle of Buenos Aires, the wide open space of the pampas was a welcome refuge.

It was an incomparably beautiful place.

Grassland stretched into the distance and a herd of Criollo ponies galloped and bucked, manes and tails flying, clearly enjoying the freedom of the wide, open planes.

As the car purred along the tree-lined avenue and curved round the final bend, Faith held her breath in expectation. Raul had once told her how he’d bought the place piece by piece.

He’d shown her photographs and she’d barely recognised the tumbledown, dusty buildings.

The ranch had been restored to its former colonial glory and now the dusky-pink stone walls of the main residence were covered in tumbling bougainvillea, the colours so bright that at a glance it seemed as if someone had gaily splashed paint against the walls. Three perfectly manicured polo lawns were bordered by pristine white fences and in another field a herd of exquisitely beautiful horses galloped and pranced, the quality of their bloodline indisputable.

Faith’s eyes slid to the row of expensive cars parked in the far corner of the immaculate yard.

Money, money and more money …

Raul had barely spoken during the journey, instead working on his laptop and fielding a never-ending series of calls, the subject of which had revolved around the purchase of a neighbouring estancia.

‘You’re buying more land?’

A strange expression flickered across his face and she sensed immediately that this was one deal he didn’t intend to discuss. ‘Are you making small talk or are you suddenly interested in the nature of my business?’

Four days had passed since they’d first arrived in Buenos Aires and apart from that one kiss, he hadn’t touched her. Once he’d put the ring back on her finger, he’d turned his attention to work, dividing his time between the phone and the computer. The only time they’d met up had been for dinner by the pool, a stiff, uncomfortable affair for Faith, an opportunity to refuel for Raul. He’d never lingered, instead opting to return to the room he used as an office. His desk faced the glass window and she’d caught glimpses of him lounging in his leather chair, long, muscular legs stretched out in front of him as he’d given hell to the person on the end of the phone.

Faith had immediately retreated to her favourite place, the cosy sofa that took advantage of the same view that Raul enjoyed from his office. She’d cradled a book in her lap, but hadn’t read a single word. Instead she’d stared out of the window, her thoughts far removed from the printed page of a book.

She’d always thought that the physical side of their relationship was the one area where they would never have a problem. But apart from that one, searing kiss, Raul hadn’t touched her. When he’d slept, which wasn’t often, he’d slept in the spare room and she hadn’t questioned him because she hadn’t wanted to appear insecure.

But she couldn’t help wondering why.

Was it because her hair was short?

Was it because she’d lost weight?