At His Convenience Bundle (47 page)

She'd picked up a film she'd wanted to see for the longest time on her way home, and in her brown leather tote bag there was a very good bottle of crisp white Chardonnay along with a box of sweets for Angelina. Not knowing whether Javier had made any plans or not for the evening, she prayed he wasn't going out, that he would want to share the film and the wine with her and afterwards talk with her a little. Whether she'd be brave enough to do as Ellie had suggested and tell him exactly how she felt, Sabrina didn't know, but she'd promised herself to stop pretending their marriage was in name only, and prayed Javier was ready to do the same.

But all her hopes flew out the window when she arrived home to find Javier's exotic ex-girlfriend, Christina, in residence in the kitchen. Javier was nowhere to be seen and, apart from the radio playing softly on the counter-top, the house was unusually quiet for that time of the evening. Had Rosie taken Angelina out somewhere? And where was Javier?

Gazing at the sultry woman seated at the kitchen table, flicking through a magazine, her long, very slender legs encased in soft black leather trousers with a silver knit halter-neck on top, Sabrina was suddenly beset by doubt and fear. ‘Hello. Where is everybody?' Removing her coat, she automatically folded it across the back of a nearby chair, then moved across the room to fill the kettle for a drink. Anything to keep her hands busy and her brain from going crazy.

‘Rosie has taken Angelina to visit a friend and Javier has just popped out to the drug store to get me some headache pills. Are you making coffee?'

Absorbing the slightly condescending glance of the other woman, Sabrina reached up to the dresser for cups and saucers, biting her lip to stop herself from asking the woman why she couldn't have gone out to get her own pills. Who did she think Javier was—her lackey?

‘I can do, but is it a good idea if you have a headache?'

‘It is not so bad now. I have had a long talk with Javier and am feeling much better. He always knows how to make me feel better.
Always
.'

‘He's a good man.' Her back stiff, Sabrina switched off the kettle, spooned some coffee granules into two cups and stirred, all the while her heart thudding with indignation and hurt. Javier had told her that Christina had a boyfriend back in Argentina, that he no longer felt anything for the beautiful model who was his ex-girlfriend. If that was true, why had she shown up at the house again?

‘Do you take milk and sugar?'

‘No.' Christina's dark eyes flashed as if to say ‘do you need to ask?'. ‘I have to take care of my figure. It is how I make my living.'

‘And is that what you're doing in the UK?' Putting the green cup with its matching saucer down in front of her on a place-mat, Sabrina returned to the counter-top for her own drink. ‘Modelling?'

‘I did a shoot for Paris
Elle
and decided to make a stopover for a few days in London so that I could catch up with some friends. I particularly wanted to see my darling Javier. When I heard about poor Michael I was glad to come and offer him some comfort.'

Was that what she'd been offering Javier the night she'd stayed at the house?
Comfort?
Sabrina's heart turned over. He'd sworn to her that nothing had happened between them but that clearly wasn't what the sultry Christina was implying.

‘He is hot, yes?'

‘Hot?' For a moment, Sabrina didn't know what the other woman meant.

‘Sexy.' Christina laughed, the sound curiously like a cat purring. ‘Good in bed.'

At Sabrina's flustered glance, Christina fixed her with a knowing little smile, her lipstick appearing suddenly too red next to her very white teeth, giving her a hard, almost brittle look.

‘Let's not pretend, Sabrina. You have slept with him, yes? I would have been very surprised if you had not. Javier is a very attractive, virile man with Latin blood flowing in his veins. He naturally has needs…needs which only a woman can fulfil. The fact that you so readily agreed to assume the role of pretend wife doesn't stop you from being susceptible to his very apparent charms. But I want you to know that you have not been singled out particularly. Any reasonably attractive woman would have done. I am only telling you this so you do not get your hopes up where he is concerned. When he has been here as long as he needs to be, he will return to Argentina and his family. I know them well, Sabrina, and they would not take kindly to an Englishwoman as their son's wife. Look what happened to poor Dorothea when she married Michael…she was forced to leave everything she knew and loved behind to settle in the UK. Her
mama
was heartbroken. Imagine how she would feel if Javier—her only son—did the same?'

Feeling suddenly chilled, Sabrina leant back against the counter-top and drew her fingers through her softly mussed hair. Pulling out the tortoiseshell comb, she gave it a brief shake loose, willing her chaotic thoughts to start making some sense, trying to get a grip on what Christina was saying, wondering if she ought to take it seriously or if the woman was simply suffering from a case of terminal jealousy where Javier was concerned because she was no longer the woman in his life.

‘As far as I understand, Javier's sister wasn't “forced” to stay in the UK. It was a choice she made because she was in love with Michael. As for the rest, my hopes or plans are nothing to do with you and therefore not open to speculation or gossip. What's the matter, Christina? Does my being married to Javier pose some kind of threat to you?'

The other woman tossed her head disparagingly. ‘Not in the least. I can get any man I wish—Javier D'Alessandro included!'

‘Then why did you break up?'

‘That is none of your business!'

‘Fine. I totally respect your privacy. If you would return the compliment we'll be all square. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've been at work all day and I need to go and take a shower.'

‘Well, I'm just letting you know, I may ask Javier to take me out to dinner.'

Pausing at the door, her cup of coffee in her hand, Sabrina threw the other woman a disdainful glance. ‘Go ahead. As far as I can see, I don't have the slightest thing to worry about.'

She left the room to a string of Spanish expletives that strangely enough didn't hurt her in the least—even if she had known what they meant.

 

Relieved to see the back of her, Javier gladly saw Christina into a taxi and waved her a final goodbye. He hoped that he'd made it perfectly clear that she'd outstayed her welcome and there was nothing more between them worth pursuing. When he'd got back to the house with her headache medicine, his heart had almost stalled when he saw Sabrina's bag on the table and her coat over the chair. For all his frantic dash to the chemist and back, he'd been too late to get Christina out of the house before Sabrina's arrival and, judging by the self-satisfied, smug look on Christina's face when he'd asked her if she'd spoken to Sabrina, he knew his ex-girlfriend had probably not missed the opportunity to make mischief. Used to being the centre of attention as far as men were concerned, the beautiful Brazilian model would not like to see another woman have the limelight. Especially when that ‘other' woman had ensnared her ex-lover's heart where she had been unable to. Javier had enjoyed their association, as any young man would enjoy escorting a beautiful model around town, but as far as anything else went she left him cold.
Especially
when he'd found her in bed with Carlo Andretti—a man not known for his fastidiousness when it came to personal hygiene.

Drumming his fingers on the table-top, he took a moment to gather his thoughts before going to seek Sabrina out. All day his body had thrummed with the memory of their lovemaking and all day he'd lusted after her in a fever of wanting. She was becoming too important to him for him to simply let her go when his British passport came through and the adoption papers were duly signed, sealed and delivered. What would she think if he told her he wanted to make this paper marriage of theirs real? As real as it could be? Would it frighten her away for good? She was so set on her business being a success, would she find marriage to him and being a stepmother to Angelina too much of a bind or a restriction?

He was willing to recognise that there were no guarantees—the loss of both his sister and her husband had brought that fact tragically home—but he'd put off the moment of truth for long enough and would just have to trust that the outcome would be one that favoured both him and his beloved niece.

That said, he stood outside Sabrina's room for a good two or three minutes before raising his hand to knock on her door.

S
HE
heard him walk up to her door then…nothing. Pacing the room, her chequebook in her hand, she caught sight of her reflection in the dressing-table mirror as she passed it for the third time, alarmed to see that, yes, she did look as frightened as she felt. Was he coming to tell her that he was taking Christina out to dinner—or, worse, that he and the beautiful Brazilian model were getting back together? Her stomach knotted painfully at the thought. On paper, she and Javier didn't look like the ideal match, granted—but it hadn't prevented her from falling head over heels in love with the man, had it? It didn't prevent her from wondering how she was ever going to take in her next breath if he told her that he wanted nothing more from this marriage of theirs than for her to fulfil her part of the bargain then leave.

Oh, God…what was he doing out there? Why was he taking so long? When the knock on the door finally came, Sabrina still reacted as if a bat had swooped down on her in the dark, and with her heart going crazy she took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

‘Hi.'

‘Can I come in?' His arms were folded across the impressive span of his chest beneath a dark blue denim shirt matched with his jeans, and his dark eyes roved her face with all the intensity of a man hungry to be reacquainted with his lover. The realisation made Sabrina's world tilt for a disconcerting few seconds.

‘Of course. Has your friend gone or have you come to tell me that you're taking her out to dinner?' Presenting him with her back, Sabrina paced across the luxurious carpet to the small padded stool in front of the dressing table, where she turned round again. With anxious blue eyes she waited for his answer.

‘Why would I be taking Christina out to dinner?' His hypnotic dark gaze narrowed suspiciously. ‘What has she been saying to you?'

‘She's very beautiful. I could understand if you wanted—if you wanted to get back together with her.'

‘You say this to me when I have already told you she means nothing to me?'

‘Then why was she here, Javier? And why were you rushing around getting her headache pills? Is the woman helpless or is it that she's just used to crooking her little finger and the men fall over themselves to do what she wants?'

‘
Nada! I
do not come running when she crooks her little finger. She was complaining of a migraine. She said she had left her pills back at the hotel and asked me to go and get her some. I could not sit there knowing the woman was in pain. I would not even do that to a stranger.' Shaking his head, Javier advanced into the room. He looked very big and very angry and Sabrina silently acknowledged that she seemed to have an unhappy knack for igniting his temper. Her legs trembling a little, she dropped down onto the padded stool, folding her hands in her lap and gripping her chequebook.

‘I don't want to argue with you, Javier.'

‘No?' For a moment there was a glint of humour in his eyes. ‘Forget Christina. She is history. Tomorrow morning she will be on a plane home to Argentina. She only came to tell me goodbye. But we need to talk,
sí
?'

‘Yes, we do. But first I want to give you this.' She opened the slim grey book, tore out a page and passed it to him.

‘What is this?'

‘It's my first instalment of our repayment plan. For the money you loaned me for the business,' she explained reasonably.

For a moment he said nothing, just stood staring down at it as if he couldn't comprehend its meaning. Then, lifting his head, staring right at her, he ripped the cheque in two and let the pieces flutter soundlessly onto the floor.

‘Why did you do that?' She was genuinely bewildered, her blue eyes widening to saucers.

‘I told you I did not want you to repay me. You have already repaid me by agreeing to be my wife so that I could stay and be with Angelina. I do not want your money, Sabrina, so do not insult me by bringing up the subject again. Do you understand?'

‘I insist that you take it. I don't want to be under an obligation to anybody. That's not the way I work.'

‘No!' His shout almost made her fall off the chair. His handsome face enraged, he stalked towards her.

‘Your mother and your sister are right. You are independent to the point of stupidity! While I admire your undoubted ability to stand on your own two feet, I do not admire this stubbornness of yours to try and prove it at every turn.'

‘Well, I don't care whether you admire it or not, it's the way I am, so you'd better wake up and smell the coffee, Javier!'

‘Pardon?'

Her bottom lip quivering, Sabrina pushed herself to her feet and swept past him. But she didn't reckon on him reaching out and grabbing her. Nor did she reckon on the hard, hot, punishing kiss that followed. Her heart in her throat, she forgot all about being angry as her breasts were crushed against the warm, impenetrable wall of his chest. Forgot all about obligation and independence and stubbornness and concentrated instead on the feelings and sensations that drowned her limbs like a bath of slow, sweet honey as Javier's mouth took possession of hers and his hands claimed intimate knowledge of her body. Anchoring his fingers in her hair, running them down her back, then cupping her bottom, he moulded her to him with a wild, crazy hunger that tore through them both like a forest fire.

‘
Dios!
How did I ever live without you?' Gazing down at her, he proceeded to drop hungry little kisses all over her face, her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, her mouth, her forehead, until Sabrina's heart felt as if it would surely jump right out of her chest with joy.

‘Javier, we still have to talk. We have to—'

‘Uncle! What are you doing?'

Startled, they sprang apart at the sight of that little puzzled face in the doorway.

His heart slamming against his chest, Javier considered his niece with a sense of shock, cursing the fates for pre-empting his chance to talk to her about his feelings for Sabrina. Now she would most probably be frightened that Sabrina had replaced her in his affections. How to explain that there was more than enough room in his heart for both of them?

‘Angelina, I…'

But the little girl had already turned tail and run, and Sabrina hugged her arms tightly around her middle and wondered if she'd lost the child's trust for good. She prayed not.

‘I have to go to her.' His expression undeniably torn, Javier hurried from the room.

Back in the kitchen, Sabrina made coffee that she didn't really feel like drinking then sat aimlessly flicking through the glossy magazine that Christina had left behind. But she didn't really register anything more than a blur of shiny pages because her thoughts were anxious and distracted, and if her stomach churned one more time she'd have to go in search of the bathroom.

‘How did I ever live without you?' he'd asked, not knowing that she could have posed the very same question. Now she wondered if she'd left it too late to tell him. If Angelina was too upset by the idea that her uncle had some affection for Sabrina, would he turn his back on his need for her? Would her hopes for the future now all come crashing down around her? And, worse—would she have to walk away from this marriage without telling Javier how much she loved him?

‘Sabrina.'

Her heart knocking against her ribcage, she glanced up in surprise at Javier's tall frame towering over her.

‘Yes?'

‘I've spoken to Angelina.'

‘She's very upset? Oh, God, Javier, I would do anything to stop that little girl from being hurt even more. If she hates the idea of me being with you in that—in that way, I'll just give you both more space. I'll only stay until your passport comes through; tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it.' Her hand trembling, she unconsciously smoothed the shiny pages of the magazine back and forth.

Dropping his hands to his hips, Javier registered her agitation, feeling his stomach flare with warmth at the knowledge that Sabrina would sacrifice her own needs for Angelina. He wanted to hold on tight to this remarkable woman and never let go.

‘She's not upset, Sabrina, just the opposite. She's delighted with the idea that we have grown to care for each other.'

‘She is? We have?' Swallowing down the lump that had lodged in her throat, Sabrina blinked hard, barely allowing herself to dream, to hope.

‘
Te amo, Sabrina.
I love you.'

‘Javier.' Rising to her feet, Sabrina allowed him to take her hands in his, felt herself engulfed by his warmth and protection, his love, when he urged her head onto his chest. ‘Oh, God, I love you too. I don't know what I would have done if you'd said Angelina was unhappy. It would have been so hard—impossible—to pretend I didn't care as much as I did about you.'

‘So we are “real”, yes?
Mi esposa hermosa.
'

Raising her head to gaze into his eyes, Sabrina smiled. ‘You said that the first time we made love. What does it mean?'

‘My beautiful wife.'

‘I like the sound of that.'

‘You do?' He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then finally her mouth, his lips moving over hers with exquisite tenderness, leaving her in no doubt that he truly loved her. Releasing a shuddering breath, Sabrina pulled away, a frown puckering the smooth, clear skin of her brow. ‘You know what people will probably say?'

‘Tell me.'

‘That I'm too old for you; that I enticed you with my wicked womanly charms; that I married you for your money.'

‘Let them talk. They are all lies…except the part where you enticed me with your wicked womanly charms,
sí
?' His hands on her hips, he was urging her against him, heat simmering in those amazing dark eyes of his. ‘And you will give me babies…at least two or three, yes? You can still run your precious business—Rosie will be our nanny. What do you think?'

‘What if I can't, Javier? Have babies, I mean.'

‘Can't is not in my vocabulary. Besides…' he wound his fingers possessively through the soft strands of her pretty honey-brown hair ‘…we will practise hard. Night and day…whenever we can,
sí
?'

‘Sabrina?' Framed in the doorway, her bright pink tracksuit emphasising her tanned skin, her eyes huge and soulful like her gorgeous uncle's, Angelina glanced from her uncle to the woman he held in his arms and back again.

‘Yes, Angelina?' Stepping away from Javier, Sabrina dropped down onto the nearest kitchen chair.

Advancing into the room, the little girl planted herself in front of her. Her teeth chewing on her plump lower lip, for a moment she appeared ill-at-ease and uncertain. ‘My uncle told me that he is going to adopt me. He's going to be like my daddy. Did he tell you?'

‘Yes, sweetheart, he told me.' As she glanced up at the man she loved Sabrina's expression grew even softer.

‘Does that mean that when he adopts me you'll be like—like my mummy?'

Oh, God. What was she supposed to say to that?
Her gaze naturally gravitated to the tall, brooding man standing behind the child for guidance. She attempted a smile but barely even moved her lips.

‘Would you—would you like that, Angelina? I will never take the place of your real mother but I would love you like my own and never let you down, I promise.'

‘I think I would like that very much if it means you'll stay with me and Uncle Javier for ever. Will you, Sabrina?'

‘Remember what I told you when you were ill? That when I care about someone I stick like glue? Well, when I love someone I stick even harder. You'll never be able to get rid of me now!'

‘What do you say about that,
querida
?' Sliding his hand across the child's slender shoulder, he gave it a little squeeze.

‘I'm happy. I'm happy that we're going to be a real family. Daddy would have liked that.'

 

‘I don't care whether you think you know the ending or not, we don't want to know it, do we, Angelina?'

Sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the little girl, her back against the couch between Javier's long legs, Sabrina glanced up at her husband, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief as the television flickered in front of them, the film they were watching well under way. His hands resting lightly on her slender shoulders, he bent towards her head and planted a warm kiss at the side of her neck. A surge of delicious tingling flooded her body.

‘No, Uncle, don't tell us the ending. You'll spoil everything!'

‘OK, I won't tell you. But only if you let
me
choose the movie tomorrow,' Javier teased his niece. ‘This is one of those—how do you call them?—girly films. What I want to see is an action movie.'

‘Then I'm afraid you're going to be outvoted,' Sabrina warned him. ‘There are two of us girls now so you won't find it so easy to get your own way in future, Señor D'Alessandro!'