Alejandro's Revenge. Anne Mather
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Her eyes sought Edward’s, but he was suddenly intensely interested in the cast on his leg. Below the hem of his navy shorts the plaster looked extremely white against his bare skin, and as she watched he shifted a little uneasily in his seat.
‘I—I thought—’ she was beginning, when the man beside the fireplace suddenly moved into the shaft of sunlight slicing through the half-drawn blinds.
‘I am sure—Abigail—was concerned when she heard about her brother’s accident,’ he drawled in the low, seductively sensual tone that Abby remembered not just in her mind but in her bones. And as she swung round, hardly daring to believe he’d have the nerve to come here and face her, Alejandro Varga acknowledged her dismay with an ironic little smile. ‘Abigail.’ He inclined his head towards her with all his old arrogance. ‘What an unexpected pleasure!’
YOU smug bastard!
For a moment Abby was half afraid she’d said the words out loud. But when she glanced apprehensively about her she saw no look of horror on anyone’s face, no embarrassed apology trembling on anyone’s lips. On the contrary, everyone—excluding Edward—was looking at Alejandro with undisguised approval, and Abby wanted to sink into the floor at the realisation that she was expected to acknowledge him, too.
‘Mr Varga,’ she said tightly, allowing her eyes to drift only briefly over his dark face. She was sure he must know exactly how she was feeling, and the hot colour that she had never been able to control spread revealingly into her throat.
The fact that she was instantly aware of everything about him, from the sleek smoothness of the hair that brushed his collar at the back of his head to the lean, aristocratic hollows beneath his cheekbones, was irritating. But that was her problem. It would have been difficult to pretend, to herself at least, that his image hadn’t been indelibly printed on her memory for the past two years. Just because she hated and despised him it hadn’t disappeared. She doubted it ever would.
Narrow arching brows framed eyes so dark she’d once believed they were black. But they weren’t. Close inspection had revealed that they were merely dark brown, albeit shadowed by black lashes that any woman would envy.
But that was the only feminine thing about Alejandro Varga. Tall for a man whose appearance proclaimed his Cuban heritage, he had evidently inherited his American mother’s genes, too. They were visible in his lean, athletic body, and his long powerful legs. In an impeccably cut suit—Abby guessed it was probably Italian in design—his tie his only concession to colour, he looked strong and invincible, and so painfully familiar that Abby’s heart ached.
God, she had been such a fool, she thought raggedly. It was obvious that as far as he was concerned he had no regrets about the past. And why should he have? To him she had been merely a novelty, a diversion. Edward’s older sister, who should have known better than to get involved with a man like him.
Now he was holding out his hand towards her and she was obliged to take it. Anything else would have been taken as an insult to the Esquivals, and she had no quarrel with them.
Nevertheless, when Alejandro’s cool fingers closed about hers, she couldn’t prevent the shiver that rippled down her spine at his touch. Even in the cool tranquillity of the Esquivals’ living room, the memory of those strong brown hands upon her body was unavoidable. Awareness, hot and palpable, spread from his fingers to hers, and whereas before she had been chilled, now she was suddenly engulfed with heat.
Snatching her hand back, she pressed it to her midriff, hoping no one else had noticed her reaction. It would be embarrassing if the Esquivals imagined she was harbouring some abortive feelings for the man. Which she wasn’t. But, to divert any suspicion, she added stiffly, ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘Oh, but Alejandro considers this his second home,’ declared Dolores warmly, moving towards him, preventing any rejoinder he might have made. She slipped her hand through his arm. ‘Is that not so, caro?’
‘Thanks to your gracious hospitality,’ Alejandro told her gallantly, and Abby, looking away from the tableau they presented, saw her brother’s lip curl in undisguised disgust.
No love lost there, then, she reflected curiously, wondering what Edward had against the man. He knew little of her dealings with Alejandro, and as he was apparently a close friend of Edward’s in-laws surely it would have been in her brother’s interests to try and get along with him. After all, whatever his faults, there was no doubt that he was a powerful man in Miami.
But once again she was allowing Alejandro to figure far too strongly in her thoughts. She hadn’t flown several thousand miles to fret about his relationship with her brother. It was Edward she was concerned about; Edward whose strange behaviour was definitely a cause for concern.
However, before she could speak to him, she heard the sound of light footsteps crossing the hall. Everyone glanced towards the door so that when the young woman whose footsteps they’d heard paused on the threshold, she was instantly the cynosure of all eyes.
Abby supposed that that was what was meant by making an entrance. Lauren—for she saw at once that it was her sister-in-law—gazed about her for a moment before stepping delicately into the room. Small, like her parents, but enviably slender, Lauren was wearing a gauzy floral dress that swished about her calves. Her ankles looked absurdly narrow above perilously high-heeled sandals, and Abby was sure she wouldn’t have been able to stand in them, let alone walk.
The younger girl’s eyes lingered longest on Alejandro, but she was too well bred to allow her parents to suspect her smile of welcome was for anyone other than her sister-in-law. With a little cry of delight she launched herself towards Abby, enveloping her in a perfumed embrace.
‘Abigail,’ she exclaimed. ‘I did not realise you were already here.’ The slight lisp she favoured added a breathy sibilation to the words.
Abby managed a warm word of greeting, but she was intensely conscious of the differences between them, and of how obvious they must appear to everyone else. To Alejandro, she admitted honestly. He must have noticed she was at least six inches taller than her sister-in-law, and infinitely more generously endowed.
Her duty done, Lauren drew back again and turned to smile at their other guest. ‘Alejandro,’ she said, and even the way she said his name was revealing. ‘Why did you not let me know you were coming?’
‘You mean he didn’t?’ muttered Edward in an undertone which Abby was fairly sure only she could hear. But her brows drew together in some concern. Surely Edward wasn’t jealous of Alejandro Varga. For heaven’s sake, the man was married. Though she had to concede that hadn’t stopped him before.
Even so…
‘I did not intend to be here,’ Alejandro was saying as Lauren captured his hands and gazed up at him in youthful reproach. ‘I had some business I wanted to discuss with your father, that is all. And when I heard that Abigail was expected…’ His eyes moved beyond her to where Abby was standing, his brows lifting consideringly. ‘How could I leave without first renewing our acquaintance?’
‘What a prince!’ grunted Edward rudely, but once again only Abby was close enough to hear him. Besides, Dolores was moving forward, eager to make her own contribution.
‘Alejandro insisted on sending his chauffeur to the airport to meet Abigail,’ she declared, suddenly explaining why Carlos hadn’t hung around after dropping her off. And, as Lauren was obliged to relinquish her hold on his hands and turn to her husband, Abby realised that she was now in the ignominious position of being beholden to him, too.
‘He’s all heart,’ said Edward, before she could speak, this time making no attempt to lower his voice. And, although Abby was diverted from having to make a response, she was uncomfortably aware that the Esquivals did not approve of their son-in-law’s levity.
‘You must forgive Edward,’ declared Luis, taking the initiative,