Latin Lovers: Passionate Spaniards: The Spaniard's Marriage Demand / Kept by the Spanish Billionaire / The Spanish Doctor's Convenient Bride. Maggie Cox
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that clear?’
Swallowing down her shock at his words, Isabella smoothed her hand nervously down the front of her jeans. ‘Yes, of course …but you’d really talk to me about the Camino?’
‘I have said so, have I not?’
Leandro’s mercurial eyes skimmed down Isabella’s body in her white cotton shirt and light blue jeans and lingered for a moment on the long, shapely legs that she had inadvertently drawn his attention to with her restless hand. He lifted his gaze back up to her flushed and lovely face with its arresting little dimple in her chin with undeniable satisfaction.
‘Now come and sit down,’ he ordered huskily, his tone allowing no opportunity for dissent. ‘We will talk about the Camino and you can tell me some of your impressions so far. Have you eaten yet?’
‘No …but I can easily get something when I return to my hotel.’
‘Then please join me …I have already ordered some seafood and Señor Varez, the owner of the bar, will no doubt provide me with far too much to eat alone. I think we must also have some wine …I have found in my experience that wine definitely assists the conversation to flow.’
When Isabella still hesitated to take the chair Leandro proffered, his lips split into a wide provocative grin.
‘Do not look so alarmed, pretty Isabella …I may look quite the pirate with my long hair and unshaven jaw, but I assure you that I do not intend to throw you over my shoulder and take you back to my cabin to ravish you …unless of course you have a secret desire that I do just that!’
CHAPTER TWO
ISABELLA found herself lowering her body into the sturdy wooden chair opposite Leandro with her limbs trembling—a small riot going on inside her at the fact that he had made such a disturbingly unexpected and risqué comment. Glancing into his now twinkling grey eyes and the surprising dimples either side of his sensual mouth, she remembered her sister’s comment about him …
He’s six foot one of pure trained muscle with dark hair and eyes the colour of polished slate.
Now she saw that even that description didn’t do him justice. He was absolutely right. He did look a bit like a pirate—but a modern-day, rather bohemian one than his perhaps coarser counterpart from another century. And in spite of his casual clothing and long shoulder-length hair—indicative perhaps of a somewhat bohemian sensibility—Leandro Reyes also had an air of authority about him that said you’d be wrong to assume his morals or values were equally ‘unconventional’.
Now that he’d insisted she stay and Isabella was actually going to have a conversation with him, she wished hard that she knew more about him. Her knowledge of his films or any of his other achievements was scant and that vaguely embarrassed her—even though Emilia had sprung this whole event upon her out of the blue. Isabella loved going to the movies and her leaning was definitely more towards the kind of thought-provoking films that directors like Leandro were famous for, but she’d never actually seen one of his films as far as she could recall. Like her beloved grandfather, Isabella’s first love was books and, though it might have been a disappointment to them, it had been no surprise to her family when she’d opted to train as a librarian instead of something that carried a bit more professional kudos. And now, even though Isabella aspired to be an author, they clearly viewed this pursuit as a bit of a ‘fool’s mission’ as well as being certain that she wouldn’t make any money out of it.
‘Now I have made you blush!’ Leandro teased, clearly enjoying her apparent discomfort at his playfully taunting words. ‘Have I embarrassed you, pretty Isabella?’
‘No, Señor Reyes.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, yes …a little. I think I would just prefer our talk to be concentrated on the pilgrimage, if you don’t mind.’ Wanting desperately to divert his teasing because it would be the most disturbing distraction from his storytelling, Isabella tried to assume a more comfortable position in her chair. She also didn’t want him to imagine that she was one of those easily flattered women who would welcome and even encourage his flirtatious remarks.
‘Leandro …my name is Leandro and if we are to spend the evening together talking then I must insist that you call me that and not Senor Reyes …sí?’ Before he could examine further the surprise in her distractingly alluring dark eyes, Señor Varez addressed him from the bar. He had a telephone call. Leandro didn’t doubt that it was Alphonso explaining why he had been held up. Smiling at Isabella as he rose up from the table, he found he was no longer impatient for his friend to arrive …not now that he had a more interesting diversion. When he returned from taking the call only minutes later he shrugged as he lowered his tall, muscular frame back into his chair, his movements fluid and unhurried.
‘My meeting is cancelled so now you may talk to me at your leisure, Isabella.’ He leaned forward a little, his expression becoming serious. ‘But just for the record—I would prefer it if what we discussed stayed just between us and did not get published in your sister’s magazine. You may use what I say to help you with your book, but that is all. I have to have your utmost agreement about this otherwise we cannot proceed.’
‘Of course …and thank you for agreeing to talk to me.’
To his complete surprise Leandro found that the prospect of spending the evening with this young woman was one that he definitely looked forward to, despite his cautious nature urging him to be careful of revealing too much—even inadvertently. Apart from her looks—which were a definite magnet—there was something about her that prompted in him a deep curiosity. And there was caution in her eyes too …Leandro recognised it. He wondered what or who had put it there. On the whole, she seemed a charming mixture of woman and child and he hoped he would not come to regret breaking with precedence by giving her a small window into his thoughts and beliefs about the Camino.
But apart from his undeniable fascination for his unexpected dinner companion, he was also concerned to hear from Alphonso that his wife, Perdita, had left him and that was the reason he had postponed their meeting. So many of his friends seemed to be having marital problems these days and frankly Leandro was glad not to have that particular issue dog his life. He was quite happy to be unattached and free from entanglement. Especially as the one and only time he’d fallen in love it had left him bruised and angry when his lover had betrayed him with another man, as well as fuelling his belief that once trust was broken it was almost impossible to regain it. One day he would marry—because a man should have children, as his father was always telling him—but right now Leandro’s work came first. Film-making was his total passion and every day he thanked God that he was blessed with the good fortune to be able to make it his career. But that said …neither could he resist the demands of the hot Latin blood running in his veins. And, yes, beautiful intelligent woman were a potential weakness. Especially when they were as highly attractive as the sweet, dark-eyed señorita sitting opposite him …
Isabella told herself that she should be more concerned about writing up her notes and getting some rest this evening rather than talking to this surprising and fascinating film director. But she justified her staying put in her chair by telling herself she was bound to discover a wealth of useful information about the pilgrimage and the region by listening to this man. It would be absolutely invaluable for her research.
‘So …you want to know about Santiago de Compostela?’ Leandro smiled enigmatically and Isabella’s muscles tensed in excited expectation.
‘I would love to,’ she replied softly, her eyes shining.
Time passed, and, fortified by a generous glass of the local Albarino wine and the biggest dish of shellfish Isabella had ever seen served anywhere, including the national delicacy, pulpo—Octopus—she found herself becoming thoroughly and effortlessly enchanted by the history and mythology of the area that Leandro revealed to her. He reiterated for her the popular belief that the bones of the apostle St James lay interred beneath the altar of Santiago’s great Spanish Baroque Cathedral—hence the reason for the pilgrimage—and regaled her with some haunting tales of the morriña.