The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (17 page)

Hannah caught up fresh underwear, a wrap, and entered the
en suite
, emerging fifteen minutes later to discover Miguel had already gone downstairs.

She pulled on smart jeans and a rib-knit top, twisted her hair into a knot on top of her head, then she joined Miguel in the dining room.

Sofia had excelled herself with the meal, and an accompanying light white wine provided a relaxing effect.

It took only minutes to clear the table and stack the dishwasher before returning upstairs to change.

Hannah selected an evening trouser suit in brilliant sapphire, brushed her hair loose, and tended to her make-up before adding a knee-length sheer silk evening jacket patterned in green and blue peacock hues. A beaded evening purse completed the outfit.

‘Exquisita,'
Miguel complimented, and she gave him an impish smile.

‘Gracias, hombre.'
She cast his tall frame a considering look, deliberately noting the splendid dark evening suit, the snowy white cotton shirt, the neat black bow tie. ‘Not bad.' A mischievous smile curved her generous mouth. ‘I guess you'll do.'

‘Indeed?' He took in her finely boned features, the petite stature that never failed to stir in him a host of emotions. ‘Shall we leave?'

They arrived fifteen minutes before the premiere was due to begin, and walked into the crowded foyer as invited patrons were entering the auditorium.

The film had an unusual premise, one that enchanted the mind, yet held an underlying thread
which provided a startling conclusion. The acting was superb, and it was touted that the three main actors would receive Academy Award nominations.

Miguel reached for her hand as the credits rolled, and together they slipped from the darkened theatre ahead of the general exodus.

‘Feel like going somewhere for coffee?'

Hannah almost declined, then changed her mind. ‘Why not?'

They walked a block, then entered an arcade whose decor was late nineteenth century, and chose a small café specialising in imported coffee and delicate home-made savouries and cakes.

No one seemed to be in a hurry, and it was an ideal niche to relax, unwind, and just
be
.

They both ordered liqueur coffees, and selected a small delicacy to sample.

‘My cousin Alejandro and his wife Elise are flying in for the weekend,' Miguel told her as he sweetened his coffee. ‘They'll attend the Leukaemia Foundation charity ball as our guests on Saturday evening.'

Hannah offered him a warm smile. She'd only met Elise a few times since the wedding, but they shared a friendly empathy. ‘How long are they staying?'

‘Only a few days. Elise is leaving the two boys with a nanny and flying north to spend time with friends while Alejandro is in Perth.'

‘You're going with him.' It was a statement, not a query, and Miguel glimpsed the fleeting emotions evident in her expressive features.

‘You could join me.'

Hannah almost said
yes
. Then she remembered Cindy was unavailable, and leaving the boutique in a stranger's hands wasn't an option. ‘I'd love to,' she said regretfully. ‘But I can't.' She gave a resigned shrug. ‘How long will you be away?'

‘Two, maybe three days.'

Two lonely nights. She could go visit her parents, connect with a few friends and organise a night at the theatre, take in a movie, maybe go out to dinner. Numerous possibilities to occupy her time. Except she'd miss him like crazy.

Did he possess an inkling how much he meant to her? Somehow she doubted it. Fondness and affection didn't equate to
love
. And duty was an empty substitute.

‘The boutique—'

‘Is important to you.'

She looked at him carefully, silently imploring him to understand. ‘We agreed—'

‘I know.'

‘It's the one thing I've done totally on my own,' she said simply.

‘I'm not questioning your ability to achieve success in your own right.'

‘No. But you want me to choose.'

‘The social circuit in favour of the boutique?' He arched a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Not your style, Hannah.'

‘What are you suggesting?'

‘Give Cindy a promotion. Elevate her to manageress, cultivate two relieving saleswomen who can work in your place.'

‘Thus leaving me available to travel with you at short notice?'

‘I would prefer to have you with me, than leave you at home.'

A concession? An admission of sorts? ‘I'll give it serious thought,' she conceded, and saw his gleaming smile.

‘Do that,
amada
.' He drained what remained of his coffee. ‘Shall we leave?'

It was late when Miguel garaged the car, and on entering their bedroom Hannah removed her clothes, her make-up, and slid between the cool percale sheets.

She fell asleep within minutes, drifting effortlessly into oblivion where scattered dreams invaded her subconscious mind until the early hours, when the light brush of fingers trailing the indentations of her spine brought her slowly into a state of lazy wakefulness.

Hannah arched her body in a feline stretch, then turned towards the man who was bent on creating havoc with her senses.

With deliberate playfulness she traced a teasing pattern over the dark whorls of hair that smattered his chest, dipping the tips of her nails and gently dragging them across his pectoral muscles before trailing to his navel.

She heard his faint intake of breath, and explored lower, barely touching the engorged tumescent shaft as she sought the apex between his thighs.

In one fluid movement she rose into a sitting position and swept aside the bedcovers, aware of his
hands as they caressed her breasts, bringing the dusky peaks into tingling arousal.

Her hair was loose, its length tousled from sleep, and she bent her head so that it brushed against the most sensitised part of his body in a movement that brought him to the brink.

With a soft growl he closed his hands over her waist as he deftly swung her round to sit astride him, and she gasped out loud as his fingers touched her intimately.

Sensation arrowed through her body as he gently rocked her back and forth, until it was she who cried out his name and begged for his possession.

He gave it, lifting her so that she slowly took him deep inside as her body lowered onto him, and then it was she who held the power, she who set the pace, until he removed it from her and took over.

Together they sought the pinnacle and soared the heights in perfect accord. A slow, beautiful sharing of the ultimate meshing of mind, body and soul.

Such attuned sensuality robbed her of the ability to speak, even to move for what seemed an age, then she gently subsided against his chest, nuzzling her lips into the curve of his neck.

His hands brushed the length of her back, caressed her buttocks, returned to slide through the length of her hair as he angled her head towards his, seeking her mouth in a kiss that made her want to weep with its gentle evocativeness.

He traced a path over every inch of her skin, lin
gering over pleasure pulses, teasing them into vibrant life until she pleaded for him to stop.

‘Are you sure you want me to?' Miguel teased in a soft accented drawl, and he gave a low husky laugh at her denial.

What followed was a tantalisingly slow loving as he followed the trail of his hand with his mouth, using it as an erotic instrument that made her totally
his
. Passion flared as he surged into her, raw and primitive, an exotic hunger that was libidinous and almost beyond control.

Afterwards they slept a little, exhausted, until dawn filtered silvered fingers of light through the diminishing darkness, slowly painting soft muted colour over land and sea until the emerging sun feathered a faint golden glow, giving substance to shadows as it heralded a new day.

Hannah woke to an awareness of weightlessness and the knowledge she was being carried. There was also the faint hum of tumbling water, and the slight scent of aromatic oils.

Within seconds Miguel lowered her into the pulsing spa-bath, then stepped in to sit opposite.

He looked far too vibrant for her peace of mind, and she scooped up a handful of water and aimed it at him, watching his gleaming smile as he returned the favour.

With automatic movements she twisted the length of her hair atop her head and secured it with a pin from a nearby shell-shaped dish.

It was a perfect way to begin the day. All of it.
The lovemaking, which she refused at this moment to call
sex
, the sheer bliss of curling into her lover's arms, and now the shared luxury of gently pulsing jets to ease away the slight pull of overused muscles.

She wanted to lean her head back, close her eyes, and stay here for hours. Perhaps enjoy a champagne breakfast, with fresh strawberries followed by eggs Benedict, crispy bacon and two cups of strong black sweet coffee. Then crawl back to bed and sleep beneath the covers until the sun rose to its zenith.

Sadly, it was the wrong day. The weekend didn't begin until tomorrow, and the boutique awaited, as did the replacement saleswoman. And then there was
Camille
.

Slowly she opened her eyes.

‘Where did you go?' Miguel queried gently, and she smiled at him.

‘You don't want to know.'

‘If you tell me, I can—'

‘Wave your magic wand?'

‘Make a few calls, pull a string or two.'

‘Ah, I believe you would. But it's not that simple. Besides, this one's mine,
querido
.' She reached out a hand and snagged a towel, then stepped out from the spa-bath.

It wasn't nearly as late as she'd thought, she discovered as she dressed in the exquisitely tailored gear she chose to wear to work.

There was time for a leisurely breakfast before catching hold of her briefcase and following Miguel through to the garage.

The automatic door lifted, and almost in unison they unlocked each vehicle, slid in behind the wheels, engaged the ignitions, and at Miguel's signal Hannah reversed out ahead of him.

At the end of the street, she lifted a hand and waved, glancing in her rear-vision mirror as she turned in the opposite direction.

The replacement salesgirl arrived late, and, although her credentials appeared satisfactory, she was more suited to the teen section in a department store than catering to a very particular clientele demanding exclusive and expensive designer labels.

Hannah did her best to provide a crash course in haute couture, but after one disastrous clash with a client she relegated Chantal to menial tasks, and had her fetch lunch.

By mid-afternoon Hannah had a tension headache, Chantal had called it quits, which meant another call to the agency, impressing very specific needs, and a desperate call to Renee who willingly agreed to fill in for a few hours the next day.

There was a brief moment when Hannah seriously considered Miguel's suggestion to promote Cindy. But first, she decided a trifle grimly, she had to get through the next week or two.

T
HE
gown Hannah chose to wear for the evening's soirée was a full-length slim-fitting creation in ice-blue silk with a halter-neck and flaring into soft folds from the knee. A soft cowl effect provided an attractive
décolletage
. Matching blue stiletto-heeled shoes and a gem-encrusted evening purse completed the outfit.

Jewellery was confined to a diamond tear-drop necklace suspended on a slim gold chain, with earrings to match, and a diamond tennis bracelet at her wrist.

Make-up was kept to a minimum, with emphasis on her eyes, a light rose colouring her lips, and she swept her hair into a sleek chignon.

The prestigious charity event owed its success to an active and imaginative committee, a guest-list of the city's social élite, a luxurious venue, fine food and wine, and top-line entertainment.

This particular end-of-year function numbered as the jewel in the crown of charity events, with the funds raised being donated to the Leukaemia Foundation.

Miguel looked resplendent in a formal black dinner suit, white shirt and black bow-tie. Superb tailoring accentuated his breadth of shoulder and tall muscular
frame. He presented a forceful image that combined a dramatic mesh of latent sensuality and elemental ruthlessness. Add an enviable aura of power, and the effect was lethal.

‘Ready?'

Hannah offered him a sparkling smile. ‘To go do battle?'

His husky chuckle caused a shivery sensation to slither down her spine.

‘Is that how you see tonight's social event?'

She wrinkled her nose, and resorted to humour.

‘It'll be a dazzling occasion, with the usual players.'

Including Camille, she added silently, offering a fervent prayer the society princess wasn't included in the guests seated at their particular table.

The Deity wasn't listening, she determined an hour later as she slid into reserved seating and saw Camille's name on a place-card next to Miguel.

Damn. Could she surreptitiously switch it? Suiting thought to deed, she quickly transposed the place-card with that of a guest seated opposite.

Alejandro and Elise were a welcome inclusion, and anyone seeing Miguel and Alejandro together could not fail to note they shared relatives in common. They were of a similar height and possessed the same breadth of shoulder, the same physically fit stature and ease of movement. Even their facial features bore a certain similarity, the sculpted angles and planes, piercing dark eyes, that beautifully moulded sensual mouth.

Their respective fathers were brothers who had each left the land of their birth to seek a fortune in another country, succeeded, married and produced one son.

Alejandro resided in Sydney, with his wife Elise and two young children. The Santanas name was well respected in the business arena, and both Alejandro and Miguel shared a mutual stake in a few financial ventures.

Hannah embraced Elise warmly. ‘It's so good to see you. When did you arrive?'

‘Midday. Alejandro has only used the cell-phone once, and has yet to open the laptop.' She gave an irrepressible smile. ‘And I've only checked with the nanny twice.'

Hannah's eyes twinkled with humour. ‘This is the first time you've left them at home?'

‘Second,' Elise owned. ‘It doesn't get any easier.'

‘She has a compulsive need to check on the children's welfare,' Alejandro drawled as he leant forward to brush a kiss to Hannah's cheek.

‘Of course,' Elise acceded, sending her husband a long glance of the kind that made Hannah's nerves shimmer with envy.

‘We're seated together,' Hannah indicated, and watched as Elise slid into a chair, then patted the one next to her.

‘Sit beside me. We have so much to catch up on.'

There was background music, and the majority of guests were already seated.

There were only two empty seats at their table, and
Hannah had to concede Camille made a stunning entrance, clothed in a deep red creation that covered her perfect body like a second skin.

Hannah's gaze slid to Camille's partner, and froze in shocked disbelief for all of three seconds before she quickly masked her expression.

Luc Dubois.

Dear heaven. It was three years since she'd last seen him.

Then, he'd been a charming rake whose main occupation was insinuating himself into the lives of wealthy women. Young, not so young, it hadn't seemed to bother him. A photographic professional who used his skill to gain entry into the realm of the rich and famous.

She should know. For three months in Paris he'd exercised his considerable charms on
her
. Wined, dined, and eventually swept her off her feet and into his arms.

Now, Hannah watched as Camille began weaving her way towards them with Luc in tow, and she forced herself to maintain a polite smile as they drew close.

Had Miguel noted their entrance? Recognised Luc?

Apprehension scudded down her spine at the thought of his reaction when he did.

Although it was possible, she wasn't sure the two men had ever met. A hysterical bubble of laughter rose and died in her throat.

Dear heaven. Camille
and
Luc seated at their table? How cruel could fate be?

Hannah was aware the instant Miguel caught sight
of them, and could only wonder if anyone else noticed the way his body uncoiled and then became frighteningly still. Like a jungle animal scenting an enemy and assessing when to strike.

‘Miguel, Hannah.' Camille resembled an aristocratic cat who'd just snacked on caviare and cream.

All it took was one glance at Camille's bland expression to guess that Luc's invitation had been deliberately orchestrated.

‘Camille.' She thought her face would crack with the strain of keeping a smile pinned on her face as she acknowledged the Frenchwoman.

What was Luc doing here? Not so much Australia, or even Melbourne, but
this
particular charity event,
and
partnering Camille?

It didn't take a genius to arrive at the correct answer, Hannah decided wryly. Even the most kindly disposed person would suspect Camille of mischief-making. Luc's appearance
here
simply reinforced Hannah's belief that Camille was not only serious in her pursuit of Miguel, but she'd stop at nothing to gain her objective.

So it was
war
. Well, she was very good at self-protection. She had years of experience in dealing with it. If Camille thought snaring Miguel would be a walkover, she had another think coming!

‘You know each other, of course,' Camille purred as she slid into her seat, and Hannah opted for confrontational strategy.

‘The media made much of it at the time.' She
looked at Luc, wanting to sear him to a burnt frizzle on the spot. ‘I hope they paid you well.'

‘Handsomely.' His smile would have melted many a hardened female heart.

But not hers. ‘Let me introduce my husband, Miguel Santanas.'

Miguel was incredibly polite. Anyone who knew him would have blanched at the icy silkiness apparent in his voice.

Luc, however, seemed totally oblivious.

Wine stewards began serving drinks, and the event began with an introductory speech by the charity chairwoman, followed by the MC who outlined the evening's entertainment.

The organisation was very smooth as models strutted the catwalk to funky music while waiters served the starter.

Hannah looked at the artistically arranged seafood in a bed of salad greens, and merely forked a few morsels, her appetite seriously impaired by the presence of not one enemy, but
two
, in her immediate vicinity.

She would have given anything to be able to walk out of the ballroom and take a taxi home. Except that would amount to running away, and her pride forbade such an option.

Pretend
, a tiny voice urged, and act as if you don't have a care in the world.

Miguel ordered champagne, and indicated that the steward should fill her flute. Hannah cast him an enquiring glance and caught the faint smile curving the
edge of his mouth, the steady gleam apparent as he raised his glass in a silent salute.

He knew, of course, exactly who Luc Dubois was, and the part Luc had played in her life.

‘What is this in aid of?' Hannah queried quietly, slanting one eyebrow in quizzical humour as she touched the rim of her flute to his. ‘Courage?'

‘Do you need it?'

She inclined her head slightly, and offered with soft-edged mockery, ‘This is going to be one hell of an evening.'

‘Do you want to leave?'

Her eyes widened. He'd do that for her? ‘No.' Her voice was steady, but inside her heart missed a beat.

The models concluded showing the after-five segment, and the MC announced a well-known comedian who delivered a few amusing and occasionally risqué anecdotes while an army of waiters removed plates and the stewards tended to the guests' drinking needs.

Two singers performed two numbers, after which the models returned to the catwalk with a comprehensive display of evening wear.

It was while the main course was being served that Camille chose to engage Miguel's attention with a flirtatious coquetry that made Hannah barely refrain from grinding her teeth in angry vexation.

‘Am I missing something here?' Elise ventured,
sotto voce
. ‘Or is the beautiful Camille on a flirting mission with Miguel?'

‘If he responds,' Hannah murmured, ‘he's dead meat.'

‘Luc is the smokescreen, or the ammunition?'

‘Both, I imagine.'

Elise's features softened in empathy. ‘Tread carefully.'

Now would be a good time to utilise the powder room, and with a murmured excuse she slipped out from her chair.

Miguel could indulge in polite conversation with Camille if he chose, but
she
didn't have to stay and watch Camille's play-acting!

‘I'll come with you.' Elise rose to her feet and together they began making their way towards one of the exits.

Hannah paused to greet a few friends as she threaded her way through the ballroom, and she took unnecessary time freshening her make-up.

Elise joined her after using the facilities, and she pressed a hand to her waist, then groaned and vanished into a stall, only to emerge looking slightly pale and wan.

Comprehension was immediate. ‘You're pregnant?'

Elise managed a faint smile. ‘After two sons,
this
one has to be a girl. Already she's exerting her personality in a way neither of the two boys did.'

‘Uh-huh,' Hannah conceded with an impish grin. ‘I gather Alejandro knows?'

‘He finds it incredibly amusing.'

‘Naturally, he'll be captivated from the instant she's born and be hers to command within minutes.'

Elise's gaze misted. ‘He's a wonderful father.'

‘Are you okay?'

‘Oh, yes. I get to throw up on a regular basis halfway through breakfast and dinner.' She opened her evening purse and produced a toothbrush and paste. ‘Before and after, I'm fine.'

Minutes later, their make-up restored, they moved towards the door, only to see Alejandro standing immediately outside in the vestibule.

Oh, my, Hannah breathed silently. Elise was his most precious possession. It was evident in the way he looked at her, the protective arm that immediately circled her waist. Body language that was intense and evocative.

It must be wonderful to share that kind of emotion, to be twin halves of a whole, and so complete. Together they returned to their table, and Miguel cast her a discerning look as she regained her seat. She was willing to swear she caught a glimmer of amusement evident as she reached for her wine.

‘Your meal has cooled.' He beckoned a waiter and instructed another plate be served. Something that was done with alacrity.

‘I'm not really hungry.'

‘Nevertheless you will eat something,' Miguel chastised silkily, and saw her eyes widen as he lifted a hand and brushed the edge of her cheek with his fingers.

‘What are you doing?'

His mouth formed a sensual curve. ‘It's called reassurance.'

‘The attentive husband bit, huh?' Hannah queried with a touch of mockery.

‘Something like that.'

‘For Camille's benefit?'

‘Yours.'

Oh, he was good. Very, very good. She doubted anyone present observing their byplay could be in doubt as to his feelings. She could almost hear the unspoken comments…
fifteen months into the marriage, and look at them
.

She offered him a brilliant smile. ‘Careful,
querido
, you're in danger of reaching overkill.'

He touched a thumb-pad to her lips. ‘Think so?'

The lights dimmed, a spotlight hit the MC, and the charity organiser announced the amount of money raised for the night's function, alerted guests to the next gala evening, and indicated a return of the comedian.

Somehow Camille had managed to manoeuvre the seating so she occupied a chair next to Miguel, and Hannah had to commend her determination while silently condemning her to hell.

Hannah picked at the decorative fare on her plate, forked a few mouthfuls, then pushed the plate aside.

Camille took every opportunity to engage Miguel's attention with a light trail of red-lacquered nails on his sleeve, a touch to his hand, and her smile was a work of art in the seduction stakes.

The models took the catwalk for the final round while dessert was being served, and afterwards the
waiters brought coffee while the singing duo closed the entertainment for the evening.

A DJ switched on special lighting effects, set the first of several CDs playing, and background music and recorded vocals encouraged those inclined to dance to take to the floor.

Now was the time for guests to mingle, table-hop and socialise with friends who were also present.