At His Convenience Bundle (43 page)

‘It is. Perhaps we are not so repressed in my country in the way that the English are? You seem to want to apologise for everything…even desire.'

His comment completely unravelled her carefully worked-out bid for understanding. Trying to regroup, she shifted to her opposite hip, then folded her arms again across her shirt.

‘Whatever. The point I'm trying to make is that it was a mistake. What we have here is a perfectly reasonable—though perhaps not commonplace—business arrangement. If we are both to come out of it intact we need to redefine our ground rules.'

‘If we were in a boardroom right now I would be most impressed.' Getting restlessly to his feet, he pushed the black swivel chair right up to the desk then turned to face her. ‘You do not have to try so hard to be the perfect businesswoman, Sabrina. Neither do you have to hide who you really are from me.'

‘Hide?' Frowning, Sabrina desperately tried to keep her mind on track but it wasn't easy when she had six feet two inches of hard-muscled, devastatingly good-looking male staring back at her as if he wanted nothing better than to redefine ground rules of a completely different kind. The kind that had her pulse-rate rocketing off whatever scale it was measured on.

‘I'm not trying to hide anything from you. All I'm trying to do is tell you that what happened between us was a mistake and shouldn't happen again. Please don't pretend you don't understand. I like you, Javier, and that's all to the good, considering our arrangement, but that's as far as it should go. I wanted to tell you that you should carry on as normal—go out with other women if you want to; I have no objection.'

‘And that should make me glad?' His expression was forbidding. A muscle jumped in the side of his lean, bronzed cheek and Sabrina dropped her arms and twisted her hands together instead to still their sudden trembling.

‘I'm not interested in whether it makes you glad or not!'
He was crying, Angelina had said. Missing Michael.
Probably feeling overwhelmed as well that, as a thirty-year-old successful single entrepreneur with no commitments but to himself, he now had to take on the awesome responsibilities of a child and live a completely different kind of life from the one he'd been used to living. One that no doubt included fast cars, pretty girls and the high-living pursuits of the rich and glamorous. ‘All I know is that we need to get on with our own lives. I'm totally happy to help with Angelina, to be her friend if she wants me to—but, other than that, I can't get personally involved with you, Javier. I just can't.'

‘Sí.'

‘Is that all you're going to say?' She was stunned when he swept past her, the air all but crackling with the anger that was rolling off those broad shoulders of his.

Following him out into the kitchen, she watched him fill the kettle and set it to boil.

‘All right. Because you have done me this service I will accept your so-called “ground rules”. I will pretend that we did not join together as man and woman and I will keep my association with you strictly impersonal. Is that what you wanted to hear, Sabrina?'

Trailing her hand over the cold marble counter-top, she briefly nodded. ‘Yes, it would be easier.'

‘Easier for who—you? Because you are afraid of life, of really living. Because you feel safer hiding behind a social mask even in your private life. Yes…I can see how that would be easier for you.'

His stark words lashed at her soul like a whip and she actually felt herself flinch. How could he know so much about her when he had only known her for the shortest time?

‘I'm not afraid of life; of living. I'm only thinking of the best thing to do for everyone concerned.'

His rage was tangible. ‘Do not presume to speak for me as if you know what is best for me. You clearly do not!'

‘I'm sorry to make you so angry. How can we resolve anything if we can't even talk to each other without getting in an argument?'

‘You think this is an argument?' His laugh was short and harsh. ‘Clearly our cultures are very different.'

Her voice trembled. ‘I'm beginning to see that.'

Dropping his shoulders, he seemed to take pity on her. ‘Don't worry, Sabrina, I will not make any more “inconvenient” demands on you. We will conduct this marriage like a business merger and that is all. Does that make you happier?'

‘Yes.'
Liar!
her heart protested. ‘Thank you.'

‘As far as I can see, you have nothing to thank me for.
Nada!
' His black eyes blazing, he swept out of the kitchen without giving her so much as a backward glance.

‘Well,' Sucking in a deeply shaky breath, Sabrina fought hard to keep her composure. ‘That went well…'

 

Making coffee in the end room, Sabrina heard Javier get up, open the door and tell Jill that he was going out to get some lunch. When the door clanged shut behind him she closed the lid on the milk carton, opened the fridge and popped it inside without releasing her breath. When she did, it whooshed out of her as if she'd been holding it under water and had only just surfaced in time. Since their little ‘talk' personal relations between them had been strained to say the least, but here in the office Sabrina could find no fault in Javier's conduct. He was the consummate young professional, guiding Jill, Robbie and herself almost effortlessly round the new programme he had installed with ease, making the difficult seem simple, answering their questions with a display of understanding that belied his mere thirty years on the planet. They quickly learned that he was a natural leader as well as a natural innovator and they were all enthused by his suggestions for making the company more competitive in the marketplace while retaining the long-honed skills they had acquired themselves on the way.

But still Sabrina felt unaccountably hurt by the fact that he'd gone to lunch alone. When he rang half an hour later to inform Jill that he'd bumped into a friend and would be away longer than he'd thought, Sabrina's mind jumped into overdrive.

Who was this ‘friend'? Was it someone Michael had known or was it perhaps one of the parents from Angelina's school? Until he returned an hour and a half later she couldn't concentrate on a damn thing and when he did return and looked at her with a cool, almost dismissive glance across the top of the computer monitor, her insides turned to ice. Determined to devote her complete attention to the young woman planning a backpacking holiday in India who was seated in front of her with her boyfriend, she conjured up her best, most professional smile and pretended it didn't matter that Javier D'Alessandro clearly no longer regarded her as a friend.

 

On her way home later that evening, Javier having left before her, Sabrina found herself heading towards one of the big chain shops that specialised in modern, trendy clothing for youngsters. Estimating Angelina's size, she picked out a couple of nice sweatshirts with the shop logo on and a pair of jeans and hoped the child would like them. Her purchases packed, she then headed towards a favourite bookstore that housed a welcoming coffee-shop and, after browsing for a good hour, finally settled at a chrome table to drink a café latte and flick through the books she'd bought. While she'd been active it had not been so difficult to push thoughts of Javier from her mind, but, once seated, her shopping bags at her feet and her books piled beside her on the table, she felt strangely hollow at the thought that he was giving her the cold shoulder—at home at least.

Sipping her latte, she wondered if she hadn't made things even more difficult for herself by insisting they keep their relationship strictly professional. And why was he so angry with her anyway? The man could surely have any woman he desired in a heartbeat. Why he should want a work-oriented thirty-seven-year-old who hadn't had a decent relationship in longer than she cared to remember, she couldn't begin to fathom. Was it just because she happened to be sharing the same living space as him? After all, wasn't it a given that some men found it easy to have sex without getting their emotions involved? The sooner the adoption went through the better, as far as Sabrina was concerned. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving the child, whom she'd really grown to care for, but ultimately she knew it was best in the long run. One day Javier would meet someone more suited to his age and status, and in all likelihood add to his little family. Once she'd paid him back the money he'd given her for the business—and she did intend to pay it back, every penny—then Sabrina would be nothing but a dim, distant memory.

Glancing down at the time on her slender gold watch, she knew she couldn't put off going home any longer and braced herself for another difficult evening with the man she had so recently married.

C
RADLING
his glass of wine between his hands, Javier gazed thoughtfully at the beautiful woman sitting opposite him, her long legs drawn up on the sofa beneath her, her softly tousled black hair drifting across her elegant shoulders in her tight strapless dress, and wished she were miles away in Buenos Aires instead of here.

‘I cannot advise you about whether or not you should marry Carlo, Christina. Only you can judge that. If you are asking me whether I think the marriage will last then that is another thing entirely. He is already paying alimony to two previous wives who have six of his children between them, no?'

The sultry woman pouted and picked off an imaginary piece of lint from her leopard-print dress. ‘People can change, Javier. You must know that. Look what you have had to do. You have had to leave your luxurious apartment in Buenos Aires and all your friends and come and take up residence in this cold, rainy country and be a father to Angelina as well! Plus you have had to marry some plain, frigid Englishwoman so that you can stay here! I do not know how you can bear it all,
querido
—I really don't!'

‘Plain' and ‘frigid' were not words that a man could ever use to describe Sabrina, Javier thought, his blood quickening—even if she had withdrawn every bit of her previous warmth towards him in order to maintain the supposedly required distance between them. As Christina was talking he kept glancing at the clock on the mantel, wondering where she had gone after work and what was keeping her. Angelina had been looking forward to her coming home this evening but now the child was tucked up in bed, fast asleep, clearly unconvinced by her uncle's explanation that Sabrina would be home soon, he was sure. She had probably just decided to work late, he'd told his niece. Now he was all knotted up inside, wondering where she was or—more importantly—who she was with. OK, so he wasn't looking to make this marriage of theirs a permanent fixture and God knew he was not in love or anything like that—but he did have certain feelings for this woman who had answered his prayer in his hour of need. And it was his duty as her husband, real or not, to make sure that she was safe.

‘Querido?'

Snapping out of his reverie, Javier took a sip of his now slightly warm white wine then with a grimace put it aside on the small occasional table beside him. ‘I'm sorry, Christina. I have a lot on my mind at the moment. Forgive me.'

‘I was so sorry to hear about poor Michael. I only met him a few times but I always thought he was a nice man. It must have been a blow,
sí
?'

It took an almighty effort to force away the heavy black cloak that he sensed settling around his shoulders. Michael's death had been a terrible blow—Christina had guessed right—and Javier missed the fact that he could no longer talk things over with his brother-in-law the way he used to. Instead, whenever his thoughts turned to Michael or Dorothea, there was such an ache inside him that it almost left him breathless. That was why he had vowed never to get too close to anyone he cared about again. Angelina, of course, being the exception.

‘I am living in his house.' He shrugged, dark eyes absorbing the family photographs on the mantelpiece, the baby grand piano by the window that Michael had loved to play whenever he got the chance, the bookcases stacked with biographies and medical books—Michael's favourite reading. ‘All around me are reminders of him and Dorothea. They were happy here. Now they are both gone. It is hard to be here, I will not deny it, but I have to be strong for Angelina. When the adoption papers come through I will be her father and we will both have a new life.'

‘And this woman…your temporary “wife”—she will go?' Christina held her breath. She knew she wanted to be with her darling Carlo but she wouldn't be a woman if she didn't still have a certain attraction to the beautiful man who had wined and dined her in some of the most exciting capital cities in the world. And, looking at him now, his brow creased and his eyes full of sorrow, she had no doubt he was in need of some comfort. The kind of comfort only a woman could supply. Uncurling her long, slim legs from beneath her, Christina padded across the luxurious carpet in her stockinged feet and settled herself next to Javier on the arm of his chair.

‘Sí,'
he said, glancing up at her glossy crimson mouth, ‘she will go.'

‘Querido.'
Sliding her long, elegant fingers beneath his jaw, Christina bent her head and kissed his cheek. When she attempted to bestow a second kiss—this time on his lips—she felt him stiffen and pull away. Shock radiated through her like a slap.

‘I have missed you, Javier,' she told him, her voice deliberately low. ‘Have you not missed me too? Just a little bit?'

He remembered walking into his apartment, hearing laughter from the bedroom, pulling the door wide and seeing Christina naked against the pillows while the ageing, paunchy figure of his neighbour, Carlo Andretti, lay beside her, smoking a cigarette. The memory made him sick to his stomach. He pushed to his feet to pace the room, glancing again at the clock, feeling impatient and angry because Sabrina hadn't come home yet.

‘You are welcome to stay the night, Christina. There is a guest room already made up. But tomorrow you must go back to your hotel. Apart from taking Angelina to school, I have many things to attend to so I will not be able to keep you company.' Not least of all, telling Sabrina and her staff that they would have to close the shop for at least three or four weeks while the extensive refurbishment was carried out. He knew Sabrina was hoping to avoid such a decision but plainly she could not carry on working with workmen replacing windows and ripping up floorboards all around her. The refurbishment was part of the modernisation programme to give the agency a whole new, much more professional look—a look that would hopefully bring in a lot more customers to boost business. If he hadn't stepped in when he had, Javier had no doubt East-West Travel would be trading on goodwill alone and soon even that would dwindle to nothing.

‘All right. I understand. You are still mad at me for finding me with Carlo,
no
? But you were always working, Javier. Working or travelling. A woman gets lonely for a man when that happens.' Moving across the room, her small, slim body in the tight fake leopard-skin dress an eye-catching contrast against the pale, muted colours of the room, she bent deliberately slowly to pick up her high-heeled strappy sandals, then, smiling seductively, moved up close to Javier.

‘Show me the way to your guest room, then. I am too tired to wait for a taxi to take me back to the hotel.'

Relieved that she was retiring for the night at least, even if she wasn't taking his preferred option of returning to her hotel, Javier gladly took her down the thickly carpeted corridor and up a short flight of stairs to the guest room.

Careful not to wake anybody, Sabrina tiptoed down the darkened corridor to the kitchen and, flipping on the light, laid her parcels carefully on the table. Stripping off her damp raincoat and pulling the tortoiseshell clip from her hair, she also kicked off her shoes then crossed the tiled floor to put the kettle on to boil. After her shopping trip was over she hadn't felt brave enough to return home to Javier and Angelina so instead she'd driven to her flat, opened some windows to let in fresh air, watered her plants and collected a few more belongings to bring back with her. When she'd done all that, she'd sat back in her armchair to rest for five minutes before starting for home and had promptly fallen asleep. When she'd woken an hour later, the wind was blowing an almighty draught through the opened windows and the room was freezing. Rousing herself, she'd closed them tight, given the flat one final check to make sure everything was in order, gathered her belongings and got back into her car.

Concentrating on pouring hot water from the kettle onto some coffee grounds in a cheerful pink mug, she almost scalded herself at the sound of Javier's deep, rich voice at the door.

‘I will get a towel for your hair. You are wet.' Disappearing momentarily, he returned to the kitchen just as Sabrina was taking a careful sip of her steaming coffee, her pulse accelerating at the sight of him dressed in dark jeans and a black polo-neck.

He handed her the large sky-blue towel and she put down her drink. ‘Thanks.' Shivering slightly, either from her damp hair or the sheer tension of sharing the same air space as her husband, Sabrina briskly rubbed her hair, knowing she should really head for a hot shower and dry it properly, but too tired to even contemplate it.

‘You went shopping?' He jerked his head towards the various carrier bags and parcels on the table, relieved to know where she'd been but still anxious to know why she had returned home so late.

‘It's not something I indulge in very often,' she replied a little defensively, hoping he didn't think she'd been spending some of the money he'd given her for the business. ‘Now and again a little retail therapy doesn't hurt.'

His dark gaze lingering on the unconsciously sensual way the silk of her blouse stretched taut over her breasts as she stretched upwards to dry her hair, Javier manfully absorbed the hot sexual jolt that shot through his body and told himself not to forget that Sabrina's new ground rules were now apparently in operation.

‘Implying that there is an emotional need not being met,
sí
?'

There was something terribly erotic about the way he pronounced the innocent Spanish word. Folding the towel over the back of a chair, she ran her fingers self-consciously through the tumbled weight of her honey-brown hair, her eyes curiously bright. ‘Still playing amateur psychologist, Javier?'

His laugh was low and husky. ‘Is that what you think I'm trying to do, Sabrina, figure you out?'

Turning back to the mug of coffee she'd left on the counter-top, she glanced vaguely back across her shoulder. ‘Do you want a drink? The kettle's just boiled.'

He hated the knowledge that she was suddenly uneasy with him and wished he knew how to put things right, to make her realise he wasn't going to pounce on her as soon as she let her guard down. A yawn catching him unawares, he stretched his arms high and shook his head. ‘No, thank you. I think I will go to bed now that you are home. We have a busy day ahead tomorrow.'

‘Thank you for waiting up, but you didn't have to.' Her hands tightened round the pretty pink mug and she wished her spine didn't feel quite so tight every time she looked at him.

‘It is my pleasure.' With an enigmatic look at her startled gaze, he smiled. ‘Goodnight, Sabrina. Sleep well.'

 

Angelina tipped out the smart bag with the new clothes Sabrina had bought her, rifled through them, then excitedly held up a bright red sweatshirt to her chest. ‘Thank you, Sabrina. They are lovely. I'll try the jeans on tonight when I come home from school.' With a shy grin, she moved round the table to give Sabrina a slight peck on the cheek.

Flushing with pleasure, Sabrina was almost unbearably moved by the little girl's spontaneous delight. Her gift was such a small thing and she hadn't expected such a warm reaction. Tucking her unbound hair behind her ear, she parted her lips in a relieved smile. Drinking her tea in her dressing gown, she reached out to squeeze Angelina's hand. ‘I guessed your size but if they don't fit I can take them back and change them. Maybe you'd like to come with me and choose something yourself?'

‘All right, then, but I'm sure they will fit. They look fine.'

‘And I'm sorry I wasn't home last night in time to say goodnight.' Sabrina's brow creased guiltily as she silently wished she hadn't let her uneasiness with Javier prevent her from seeing the child.

‘That's OK. As long as you came home and you were all right.' With a shy glance back she returned the clothes to the white bag with the famous black logo on it and, at a shout from Rosie to come and brush her teeth, left Sabrina in the kitchen to contemplate the day ahead alone. It touched her more than she could say that Angelina expressed pleasure in her coming home. When the time finally came for her to leave the little girl and her disturbing uncle, Sabrina knew it was going to be one of the hardest things she'd ever done, but surely Javier wouldn't mind if she kept in touch—to see Angelina at least?

She was contemplating all of this and more when Javier entered the room. Already washed, shaved and dressed in an immaculate black suit, the tang of his aftershave wafting seductively round the kitchen, he was the epitome of a rich, successful young entrepreneur, and Sabrina self-consciously pulled the neckline of her terry robe closer together, feeling a peculiar vulnerability around him that she wished would go away.

‘Good morning. Can I get you something to drink—tea? Coffee?' Starting to rise from the table, she was waved back down again with an engaging smile that made her suck in a deep breath to steady herself.

‘I am fine, thank you. As soon as you are ready we will get going. There is a lot to do today and I am anxious to make a start.'

Javier liked the sight of her clothed in the long white terry robe, her beautiful golden-brown hair rippling softly down her back and her face scrubbed clean of make-up. Right now she was a million miles away from her image as a smart, efficient businesswoman, which he sensed she was most comfortable with. By the wide, slightly unsure expression in her beautiful blue eyes, he knew she could not have been more ill-at-ease in being discovered in such a way.