Modern Romance July 2019 Books 1-4. Sharon Kendrick
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of fire as his skin brushed against hers.
She wondered what was the matter with her. She didn’t usually have showers which turned into something disturbingly erotic, but that was what had just happened as she’d washed herself in the luxury bathroom. The warm water had failed to remove the prickle of goosebumps as she’d started imagining Alejandro’s fingers sliding over her flesh and the corresponding throb of her nipples had made her feel restless as she had towelled herself dry. Yet this was nothing like the person she usually was. The prim and efficient woman she’d become. She prided herself on the professionalism which was so important to her and on her ability to think coolly and impartially. So stop focussing on sex and start concentrating on what you’re being paid for, she reminded herself.
Sipping at her water, she cleared her throat and put the glass down. ‘Right. First of all, I think we need to establish some clear objectives.’
‘Some clear objectives?’ he echoed, green eyes faintly mocking. ‘Perhaps you could be a little more specific.’
‘Certainly. We’re going to use this high-profile weekend to make people start thinking about you in a different way. But in order for us to work together successfully, I need you to be completely frank with me. You have to answer my questions truthfully, Alejandro. Do you think you can do that?’
‘I can try.’ He stared at her. ‘What exactly do you want to know?’
She jerked her head towards the white baby grand. ‘Why the fancy piano?’
‘Rock and roll,’ he explained with a touch of bemusement, as if her question was a curveball he hadn’t been expecting. ‘The hotel send up a pianist if any of their guests want to hold an impromptu party.’
‘Is that what happened last night?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Last night?’
‘Surely you can remember back to a few hours ago? You say you want to abandon your playboy image in order to pave the way for a possible career in politics, but you aren’t exactly going out of your way to help yourself, are you?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘This!’ Emily delved deep within her shoulder bag to produce a folded newspaper, which she held in front of him, the splashy headline easily visible. ‘I picked this up at the airport and it features a gushing report about the “wild, champagne-fuelled celebration” you held last night. There was even a photo of a very beautiful actress staggering out in the early hours, obviously the worse for wear. If you’re going to plan a party, I would advise you to think more carefully about your guest list in future.’
‘I didn’t plan a party, it just happened.’ He shrugged as he met the question in her eyes. ‘Two of the other sponsors wanted to see the view from my suite. It’s a pretty amazing view—’
‘I can see that for myself. Perhaps you could try sticking to the point? It will save us a lot of time if you do.’
He gave a slow smile in response to her sharp words, as if being admonished was something novel. ‘And they brought a few people along with them. You know what it’s like.’
‘Not really, no.’
He seemed undeterred by her stonewalling. ‘Apparently a few of the models who are in town for the race gatecrashed a bit later, but I’d gone to bed by then.’
‘Alone?’ she demanded quickly.
‘That sounds like the accusation of a possessive girlfriend,’ he observed softly. ‘Or what a prosecution lawyer might call a very loaded question.’
‘Or a pertinent one?’ she returned. ‘Just for the record, I read the book your ex-girlfriend wrote—on your recommendation, I might add. According to her, you’re very fond of these kinds of parties. And of the type of women who frequent them, often without invitation.’
‘And you believed every word of it, I suppose—along with the rest of the world?’ His face grew hard and assumed a look of unfettered cynicism. ‘Especially the part where she hinted about me enjoying “variety”—which seemed to be the phrase which got most people excited. She made me sound like the worst kind of serial philanderer. She didn’t actually mention mirrors on the ceiling and black satin sheets but she might as well have done—although, unfortunately, my lawyers told me there was nothing you could actually put your finger on and call libel.’
‘And did you?’
‘Did I what, Emily?’ he mocked.
‘Enjoy...’ she licked her lips, wishing she could clear her thoughts of the image of Alejandro making out beneath a mirrored ceiling amid rumpled black satin sheets ‘...variety?’
‘Never.’ A note of contempt hardened his voice, matching the sudden forbidding line of his lips. ‘I’ve always enjoyed the attentions of women, but only ever one at a time. And I’ve never found promiscuity a particularly attractive quality. You of all people should know that.’
Emily flinched, wondering if he’d believed the stupid lie she’d told him. And why shouldn’t he have believed it when she’d made it sound so convincing? Hadn’t she practised saying it over and over again?
Alej, I don’t want to be with you any more. I don’t love you any more.
And then, when he had persisted, she had taken the lie one stage further.
It was only ever about sex and I’ve seen other men in England. Men who are more suitable. Rich, well-bred men I want more than you.
It had been so over the top that she’d half wondered if she’d gone too far and whether he would see through it for the invention it was. But he hadn’t. He had believed every word of it and she would never forget the answering look in his eyes. Not for as long as she lived.
But there was a different look in his eyes now because while they’d been talking something had changed. His gaze was no longer icy-cold as it had been the day he’d touched down in his helicopter in Argentina, nor disapproving like when she’d arrived in Melbourne a couple of hours ago. Now it held some of the familiar heat of old as he looked at her, and some of the old hunger, too. It spoke to a feeling inside her. A feeling which had been dead for so long that she’d thought she’d lost it for ever. Or maybe it was just that only Alejandro could ignite it. Only he could make her body seem as if it had fired into vibrant new life.
Against the scarlet silk of her bodice she could feel the ripening thrust of her nipples and, low in her belly, the first sweet rush of awakening, and in those few seconds she longed for him to touch her again. To do those things which used to give her so much pleasure. Most of all, she wanted him to kiss her. To put his arms around her. To make her feel safe and protected.
And that was the feeling which scared her most of all, because you could never rely on a man to provide you with sanctuary. Hadn’t that been just about the only thing her mother had taught her?
So concentrate, she urged herself fiercely. Don’t start thinking like that, and don’t start acting in a way which will lead you into trouble. Send out the subliminal message that this is strictly professional and if you start believing it yourself, then Alejandro might believe it, too.
‘You’re going to need to start protecting your own space a bit more in future,’ she advised. ‘You can’t just let parties happen. If things get out of hand it’s your image which will be damaged and you need to start guarding it more carefully. Image control, they call it.’ She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and subjected him to a cool look. ‘We need the world to start thinking of you in a new way, so your reputation as a playboy becomes a thing of the past and in its place comes the sometimes serious, always thoughtful would-be politician.’
‘But achieving that is going to be a monumental turnaround, I suppose?’ he suggested sardonically.
‘I’m not denying it’s going to be a challenge, but I