The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride. Jacqueline Baird
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than taking her arm, he placed his own very firmly around her waist, his strong hand curving over her hipbone as he urged her towards the dance floor. His touch was much too personal and his great body much too close for Emily’s comfort and it only got worse…
As soon as they reached the dance floor he turned her to face him, his arm tightening around her waist as he drew her closer, and at that moment the band began playing a dreamy ballad. She stiffened in his hold, determined to resist a sudden inexplicable desire to collapse against him as he took her hand and linked his fingers with hers and cradled it against his broad chest.
‘You surprised me, Emily,’ he said, his dark eyes seeking hers. ‘You dance the tango superbly—I was quite envious of Max,’ he admitted. ‘Though to be honest, dancing is not one of my talents. I could not tango to save my life. I am more a shuffle-to-the-music man,’ he said with a self-effacing grin that lightened his saturnine features, making him look somewhat approachable. ‘So I hope you won’t be disappointed,’ he concluded with a querying arch of one black brow.
Disappointed… It was a rare occurrence for Emily to dance with a man she had literally to look up to and it turned out to be frighteningly seductive. He fitted her perfectly and, enveloped in his arms, the black cloak enfolding her created an added intimacy. Disappointment was not an emotion troubling Emily, though a host of others were. With his long leg subtly easing between hers as he turned her slowly to the romantic music, her pulse raced, her heart pounded and every nerve end in her body was screaming with tension as she battled to retain control of her wayward body. The damn latex suit was no help; it simply emphasized every brush of his muscular body against hers. And she seriously doubted Anton Diaz had ever disappointed a woman in his life. Certainly not the lovely Eloise, and the thought cooled her helpless reaction to him enough for her to respond.
‘Oh, I think not,’ she said with blunt honesty. She knew she was reasonably attractive and she had been hit on by many men over the years, but since her failed engagement she had learnt to put men off with no trouble. ‘I also think, Mr Diaz, a man of your wealth and power is perfectly well aware of his talents and exploits them quite ruthlessly for his own ends.’ Anton might make her heart beat faster—her and the rest of the female population—but she had no intention of falling for his charm. ‘As I’m sure the tabloids and your friend Eloise could confirm,’ she ended dryly.
‘Ah, Emily, you have been listening to gossip. What was it? I was brought up in a brothel surrounded by willing women,’ he mocked. ‘Sorry to disappoint, but it is not true, though my grandmother did own one,’ he admitted, ‘and it is a poor reflection on the male of the species that she made rather a lot of money. Enough to send her daughter to the best school in the country and on to a finishing school in Switzerland.’
Emily’s blue eyes widened in surprise at his blunt revelations, her tension forgotten as she listened intrigued as he continued.
‘When she was in Europe she met and fell in love with a Greek man who was unfortunately married with children. But he was decent enough to set her up in a house in Corinth where I was born. Their affair lasted for years, he died when I was twelve and my mother decided to return to Peru.’
‘That is so sad. Your poor mother, you poor boy,’ she murmured. Totally absorbed in his story, she compassionately squeezed his hand.
‘I might have guessed you would feel sorry for me.’ His dark head bent and his lips brushed her brow. ‘Ah, Emily, you are so naive and so misguided. As a wealthy man’s mistress my mother was never poor in the monetary sense and neither was I.’ He looked into her big blue eyes, his own gleaming with cynical amusement. ‘I hate to disillusion you, but your sympathy is wasted on me.’
‘So why did you tell me all that?’ she asked, puzzled. He did not strike her as the sort of man who would bare his soul to a relative stranger.
‘May be because it got you to relax in my arms.’ He smiled.
‘Was it all lies?’ she shot back, her body stiffening again, this time in anger.
‘Not all…I actually am a bastard.’ He grinned, the hand at her waist stroking slowly up her back, drawing her closer still. And she involuntarily trembled in his hold. ‘And as you so rightly said,’ he drawled softly, ‘I use all the talents I have to get what I want. And I want you, Emily Fairfax.’
Stunned by his outrageous comment, she stared up into his night-black eyes, and saw the desire he made no attempt to hide. ‘You devious devil,’ she exclaimed.
‘Angel,’ he amended, his dark head dipping, his warm breath tickling her ear as he urged her hard against him, making her intimately aware of his aroused state. ‘And the way you tremble in my arms I know you want me. The attraction between us was instant and electric so don’t pretend otherwise, Emily,’ he commanded, and straightened up.
‘You’re unbelievable,’ she gasped. Though she could not deny the trembling, or the attraction, she had no intention of succumbing to such blatant seduction. ‘Coming on to me when you have the beautiful Eloise with—’
He cut her off. ‘Eloise is a very old friend, nothing more I can assure you, and so could her husband,’ he said, his dark eyes holding hers, a wicked gleam in their ebony depths. ‘She is quite a famous television star in Latin America, but she has ambitions to be famous worldwide. Which is why she is over here to discuss the possibility of starring in a musical production in the West End next year. She is going back to her husband tomorrow so you have nothing to be jealous about.’
‘Jealous. Are you crazy? I don’t even know you,’ Emily spluttered.
‘That is soon remedied. I will call you tomorrow and arrange a time for our dinner date,’ he declared, and stopped dancing, his hands sliding to span her waist, and hold her still. ‘But now I think we’d better get back to the table, before people start to gossip. The music has ended.’
Emily had not noticed, and, embarrassed, she followed him like a lamb to slaughter, she realized later…much later…
‘For heaven’s sake, Emily, will you stop devouring that disgusting fry-up—it is turning my stomach—and listen to me,’ Helen declared. ‘You have to put the poor man out of his misery and have dinner with him. He has sent you roses every single day and the housekeeper is fed up with taking his phone calls. The house is overflowing with blooms and in my pregnant state I might very well get hay fever.’
Emily popped the last bit of fried egg into her mouth, chewed, then grinned at her sister-in-law. ‘You know the solution—I told you to throw the flowers away. I’m not interested.’
‘Liar—the woman is not born who would not fancy Anton Diaz. Your trouble is you’re afraid to get involved after the hateful Nigel. You haven’t dated any man for more than a couple of weeks in years.’
‘Moi?’ Emily quipped, placing a hand on her heart. ‘I am not afraid of anyone, but I know a devil when I see one, and Anton Diaz is not the kind of man any sensible woman would ever get involved with.’
‘Forget the sensible, and live a little. You’re at home for the next few months and your research at the museum does not take more than a couple of days a week. It is spring, when a young woman’s fancy turns to love.’
‘A young man’s fancy, you mean, and Anton Diaz is no young man,’ Emily responded dryly.
‘So what if he is a dozen or more years older than you? You have plenty of spare time and a wild passionate affair with an experienced man would do you the world of good.’
‘I don’t think so, and I have no time right now. I am going to view another apartment today,’ Emily said, hoping to change the subject, because the subject of Anton Diaz had taken up a great deal of her waking thoughts since the night she had met him. His phone calls she had refused after the first day as just the sound of his deep accented voice made her temperature rise and her whole body blush; the daily roses she could do nothing about.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Emily, forget about buying an apartment. It’s a stupid