your objection is…?’
She wanted to throw something at him, and she briefly weighed up a few possible items on the desk, caught the way his eyes darkened in silent warning…and refused to be intimidated.
‘Dammit, I don’t need you to speak on my behalf.’
His eyes seared her own, watchful, assessing. ‘It bothers you that Teresa requested I join her in spending time with you?’
Teresa had? ‘You could have told me.’
His eyes didn’t move from her own. ‘To what purpose?’
Because I could have prepared myself.
How stupid was that?
Nothing she did would have made a difference…not before or now.
Raúl was a force unto himself, with the power to damage her emotional heart. And she hated him for it. What was worse, she hated herself for being so foolishly vulnerable.
‘Just know I’m not happy about it,’ she said at last. ‘The less time we spend in each other’s company, the better.’
He inclined his head. ‘Anything else?’
Whatever made her think she could verbally best him?
‘Not at the moment.’
‘Are you sure about that, querida?’ he taunted softly, and watched faint pink colour her cheeks as she looked at him in stark disbelief.
‘If you think…’ Words temporarily failed her. ‘Are you mad?’
Yet the thought of his mouth on her own…his hands shaping her body…Oh, God, she had to get out of here.
‘Go to hell.’ She hated that her voice sounded shaky as she turned and walked from the room.
Damn him. The curse pounded silently in her mind as she crossed the hallway and entered her suite. She was so impossibly angry…with him, herself.
The temptation to pack a bag, call a taxi and take the first flight to Madrid, then home was almost impossible to ignore.
Yet how could she leave when she’d committed to spend time with Teresa? The analogy caught between a rock and a hard place seemed incredibly apt.
So simmer down—do a few calisthenics to work off the anger, shower, then retire to bed with a book.
It was a feasible plan and she went through the motions, donned sleep trousers, tank top, and slid into bed to read until the words blurred.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS a beautiful morning, Gianna noted as she checked the scene from her bedroom window. Lush green lawns provided a lovely background to the meticulously shaped shrubs which stood like miniature rounded sentinels in perfect symmetry.
She opened the window and heard soft cascading water from the fountain, felt the slight breeze whispering in from the sea with its faint salty tang.
Heaven.
Almost, she qualified, if it wasn’t for Raúl’s presence at the villa. He bothered her in a way she was loath to examine in any depth.
From a distance of several thousand kilometres, on the other side of the world, she’d been able to convince herself she was over him and had moved on.
Up close and personal, such convictions were proved totally erroneous. Something that was becoming more glaringly apparent with every passing day…and there were still twelve to go.
Teresa and Raúl were already seated out on the terrace when Gianna joined them, and although Teresa’s smile was bright she looked tired and quite pale.
Not such a good day, Gianna surmised as she leant forward to bestow a light kiss to the older woman’s cheek.
‘Coffee?’ It was Raúl who posed the query, and who moved to fill her cup with the steaming aromatic brew.
His close presence stirred her senses, and for an instant she was transported back to a time when it had seemed a natural gesture to lift her face to receive the teasing brush of his lips on her own, the intimate smile in acknowledgement of the night spent in each other’s arms…her body still vibrantly alive from his possession.
Now there was only politeness, as a courtesy to Teresa’s presence. And Gianna had no sensible reason for wishing it to be otherwise…only knew that there was a kernel of sadness deep inside she was unable to dispense.
Crazy, she acknowledged silently, as she added sugar and sipped the delicious coffee.
‘I trust you slept well?’
‘Fine, thank you,’ she responded with a smile, and crossed her fingers beneath the table to excuse the fabrication.
‘I have broached tonight’s scheduled charity function with Raúl,’ Teresa began. ‘Its purpose is to raise funds for terminally ill children. It’s a cause close to my heart, and one my late husband and I founded early in our marriage. Unfortunately I’m not feeling up to an evening out.’
Gianna felt the nerves in her stomach stir as Teresa turned towards her, and uttered a silent prayer…only to have it unanswered.
‘I would consider it a favour to me if you’d agree to act as Raúl’s partner for the evening.’
To refuse would not only be churlish, but unkind, so she didn’t even consider it, merely qualifying, ‘It will be a pleasure, unless Raúl has any objection.’ Such as another woman waiting in the wings… Sierra, or his current lover.
‘Why would I object?’ Raúl queried with an indolent drawl, and Teresa’s face brightened with delight.
‘Thank you.’ She named a luxury hotel in Palma, then turned towards Gianna and offered a conspiratorial smile. ‘It’ll provide an opportunity for you to go shopping.’
Gianna did a quick mental search of the clothes she’d brought with her…and failed to come up with anything suitable to wear.
‘We’ll drive into Palma after breakfast,’ Raúl stated.
We will?
‘I can easily take a taxi,’ she offered sweetly.
‘My dear,’ Teresa intervened gently, ‘Raúl would never permit it.’
The steady look he cast Gianna challenged her to argue. ‘We’ll aim to leave at nine.’
And that, it appeared, put an end to the subject…at least in Teresa’s presence. But not, Gianna determined, until the moment she’d inform him she intended to conduct her shopping expedition solo.
Something which occurred in the hallway of their shared guest wing as she prepared to leave a written note to that effect in his office.
‘Hoping to get away undetected?’
It seemed as if he’d appeared out of nowhere. How did he do that?
She tilted her chin, and her eyes sparked dark chips. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to accompany me.’
‘I disagree.’ His drawl held a tinge of wry amusement.
‘Please don’t give me any of that macho hyperbole about a woman alone.’
One eyebrow arched in silent query. ‘You want to be prey to skilled pickpockets? Suffer the indignity of having your wallet filched beneath the guile of a supposedly accidental jolt while you’re momentarily distracted? Find your cellphone has somehow disappeared, and you need to find a police station in order to call the villa for help?’
‘And you’re prepared to save me from any of this by walking at my side? Really? You, of course, are exempt from