Patriot Threat. Steve Berry
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He cast her a speculative look. ‘I can see why.’ His smile held such warmth it could have melted ice. ‘At least tell me your name.’
She wanted to laugh, his approach was so brazen. ‘Gianna.’
‘Velez-Saldaña,’ Raúl added with an edge to his voice only a fool would ignore.
‘A relative?’
‘My wife.’
‘Ah.’ Comprehension was swift and accompanied by a wry smile. ‘I am not surprised you guard her so well.’
‘Indeed.’
A soft laugh escaped Rafael’s lips. ‘My cue, I think, to move along.’
Raúl merely inclined his head, and Gianna waited a few seconds before offering a sallying reproof beneath the guise of a visibly sweet smile. ‘Must you behave like a proprietorial oaf?’
For a moment she thought he might laugh, and her eyes narrowed in silent warning beneath his gleaming gaze.
‘Most men are proprietorial with their women.’
‘Correction…I’m no longer your woman.’
His gaze remained steady as he took his time to gently query, ‘No?’
She could give no plausible reason why the air between them suddenly became electrically charged…nor could she explain why her pulse quickened to a drumming beat.
For a moment she almost swayed beneath a wave of raw primal heat, and she hated that he sensed it.
The hotel, the guests, even the reason she was there, faded beyond the periphery of her vision so there was only him.
He made no attempt to touch her, which was just as well, for she seemed to have temporarily lost her sense of reality, adrift in a mindless sea of remembered passion.
An intrusive sound shattered the vivid image, and she blinked as the room and its occupants swam back into focus, together with the realisation that the guests were beginning to move into the ballroom.
Staff were on hand to check tickets and offer directions to reserved tables, and it was a relief to discover she recognised two of the couples sharing their table.
Charming company, excellent food and interesting conversation made for a pleasant evening, with funds raised exceeding expectations. The entertainment provided some comedic humour, a magician and his assistant, and the usual speeches extolled the charity’s achievements, goals, and made a plea for guests to donate generously.
The evening provided vivid memories of other similar functions Gianna had attended in the past, mostly at venues in Madrid with Raúl. Occasions when she’d sparkled in company, able to converse with ease, secure that the man at her side was as much hers as she was his.
Her presence here tonight with Raúl after such a long absence would raise speculative interest and it bothered her that he was doing nothing to dispel it.
Playing a part, she rationalised as he leant in close to refill her glass.
Why was she so acutely attuned to him on a sexual level, when all her instincts almost screamed a warning to cut and run away from him as fast as she could before…what?
She succumbed and slept with him?
As if!
That wasn’t going to happen…not now, not ever. For there was no way she’d venture down that road again.
Yet it was impossible not to remember how it felt to be held by him…kissed until her mind went blank…made love to as if the world would soon end.
Haunting and undeniably taunting…notching up the sensual heat several degrees as fire raced through her veins.
Hell.
With considerable effort she forced her breathing to slow to an even beat, then reached for her glass and took a measured sip of chilled wine.
Better…but not by much.
Did he sense the emotional chaos his close proximity caused her? She fervently hoped not.
A few of the guests began gathering on the dance floor as music started to play.
‘Shall we join them?’
Gianna met Raúl’s faintly mocking gaze and effected a slight shrug. ‘Why not?’
A foolish move, she decided within minutes, as the beat changed and he drew her close…too close…and easily resisted her effort to put a little space between them.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Dancing,’ he drawled as he held her there, with one hand resting low beneath the back of her waist in a hold that was the antithesis of conventional.
‘Why not call it what it is?’
A soft, almost undetectable sound emerged from his throat. ‘A reminder of how things used to be between us?’
Yes. Damn him.
A time when she’d exulted in the anticipation of how the evening would end…the subtle teasing, the warmth of his breath close to her ear as he softly relayed how they’d make love, building the sensual tension until she’d positively ached for them to be alone.
‘If you don’t want me to accidentally kick your ankle,’ Gianna managed sweetly, ‘I suggest you step back a little.’
‘Fighting words, querida?’
It was the endearment responsible for her swift retaliatory action…and to give him credit he didn’t so much as wince or miss a step.
The only warning she received was the sudden flex of his bicep beneath her hand, then his mouth covered her own in a kiss that stopped the breath in her throat.
Deliberately erotic, it invaded, branded her his own, then gentled a little before he lifted his head to regard her with dark brooding eyes.
The temptation to slap his face was almost impossible to resist, and it was only the stark realisation of time and place that cautioned against such an action.
But just wait until the moment we’re alone.
‘That was unforgivable.’ She hated the slight quiver in her voice, and could do nothing to still the faint shivery sensation feathering down her spine.
Almost as if he knew, he slid a soothing hand in its wake, and briefly touched his lips to her temple. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
They did. Raúl followed courtesy by touching base with the charity organiser, a member of the committee, then paused to bid goodnight to a few friends and business acquaintances en route to one of the exits.
‘It’s wonderful to see you both reunited,’ a feminine voice offered with sincerity as they paused at a rear table.
But we’re not, Gianna was inclined to inform her, and it was only the sudden tightening of Raúl’s fingers in silent warning that stalled her contradiction.
He eased the vehicle into the steady stream of traffic and began heading towards Calvià.
It was a clear night, with an indigo sky in which there were the pinpricks of light from distant stars. Almost magical, if she’d been in the mood to appreciate the nightscape.
Instead she was seething from the need to keep her deep-seated anger in check…until now.
The kaleidoscope of night lights and brightly coloured neon barely registered as she visibly killed him with a dark look that would have quelled a lesser man.
‘Just what game are you playing?’ she demanded, and met his rapid glance before he returned his attention to the road ahead.
‘Precisely what are you referring to?’
‘All