“Are you all right?” Antonio queried, gazing at her in some concern. “You’re looking a bit pale. I hope nothing you ate at lunch has upset you.”

Gina shook her head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just…well, I’ve had two rather upsetting conversations this afternoon. And to tell you the truth, I don’t quite understand what’s going on.”

“Which is—what?” he asked. But when she didn’t immediately reply, he added, “If you have a problem, Gina, then I think you’d better tell me about it.”

“It seems our marriage is the problem,” she declared, looking him straight in the eye.

MARY LYONS was born in Toronto, Canada, moving to live permanently in England when she was six, although she still proudly maintains her Canadian citizenship. Having married and raised four children, her life nowadays is relatively peaceful—unlike her earlier years when she worked as a radio announcer, reviewed books and, for a time, lived in a turbulent area of the Middle East. She still enjoys a bit of excitement, combining romance with action, humor and suspense in her books whenever possible.

Their Convenient Marriage
Mary Lyons

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

PROLOGUE

IT WAS always the same dream…

The plaza in Seville is ringing with the loud shouts and whistles of the bystanders. She is almost deafened by the noisy, blaring trumpets and drums of the brass bands as the cavalcade of many horses and their riders, all in traditional Spanish costume, make their way slowly through the crowded throng of spectators.

She is struggling to control a high-spirited, nervous horse, perspiration running down her frightened cheeks as she clings tightly to the thin leather reins, helplessly unable to prevent her mount from either rearing up or lashing out with its hind hooves. The scowling faces and muttered oaths of the other riders are causing her face to burn with shame and humiliation. She knows it will only be minutes…seconds…before disaster strikes.

And then…he is there! His tall and handsome figure, clothed in a black matador’s costume, is racing through the milling crowd towards her. Firmly grasping hold of her horse’s reins, he turns to smile up at her as she slips out of the saddle and down into his arms, weeping with relief while clinging tightly to the strength of his hard, firm body.

Suddenly, the scene changes and they are dancing…spinning…whirling to the throbbing music of guitars. She is aware of nothing but the hypnotic beat of clapping hands and the rapid ‘click-clack’ of their heels on the floor as he swirls her about his tall, dominant figure.

Totally mesmerised by the glinting warmth in his eyes, she finds herself being dragged from the dance floor, her hand firmly clasped in his as they run laughing through the empty, deserted streets, before he hails a horse-drawn carriage. And then, within the confined darkness of the vehicle, with shafts of moonlight illuminating his high cheekbones and dark gleaming eyes, he slowly takes her into his arms and she ardently raises her lips to meet his.

She is shivering and trembling with delight at his deepening kiss, quivering at the sensual touch of his hands sweeping over the soft curves of her body. Her emotions are spiralling completely out of control as she whispers, ‘I love you, Antonio. I love you with all my heart!’

But then…with shocking suddenness…she finds herself on the other side of the carriage.

‘At your age? What can you know of love?’ he grinds out savagely, his voice sounding harsh and strained as the vehicle comes to a halt. Swearing under his breath, he pushes her out of the carriage in front of him.

‘Go home to England! Go home. Grow up. And let us both forget that this incident ever happened!’ he adds grimly, before stalking ahead of her into the house and quickly disappearing from sight.

Totally shattered, and weeping as if her heart will break in two, she stands gazing after him, her eyes blind with tears as she realises that she will never, ever see him again.

It was always the same dream…the same nightmare…

CHAPTER ONE

‘I REALLY can’t understand why you are being so stubborn, Antonio. Surely you can see that it’s the perfect solution to all your problems?’

‘Absolutamente, no!’

Gazing across the room at the elderly, frail man sitting in the wheelchair, Antonio Ramirez did his best to control his feelings of annoyance and irritation.

Not only was he very fond of his uncle Emilio, but he realised that he really must have patience with the old man who, since his last heart attack, had been forced to hand over the reins of the family business.

‘Yes, I would agree that I face a difficult situation,’ Antonio admitted, roughly brushing a hand through his thick, black curly hair. ‘Particularly the urgent need to completely update our wine-making process. And, yes,’ he added with a shrug of his broad shoulders, ‘I would also agree that finding the millions to do so will not be easy. Although I believe I have solved that particular problem. But, nevertheless, your suggestion as to how I can best arrange my affairs is something which I find totally unacceptable!’

His uncle gave a heavy sigh. He really didn’t understand young men nowadays, he told himself fretfully. None of them seemed in any hurry to get married, and Antonio—a handsome and extremely wealthy man, who’d left a whole host of glamorous girlfriends behind him in Madrid—was clearly no exception. But his nephew was now thirty-four, and it was clearly time he found himself a nice, sensible, financially well-endowed young girl and settled down.

‘The engagement between myself and your late aunt was arranged by my parents. Although it may have been a marriage of convenience—bringing together two old families in the wine trade—it proved to be a very happy one. Even though, most unfortunately, we didn’t have any children,’ he pointed out querulously.

‘Yes, I know, Uncle. And I do understand that you have my best interests at heart.’

‘Well, I hope you’ve got enough sense not to get involved with Carlotta,’ the older man muttered. ‘That cousin of yours might be a good-looking girl but she’s likely to cause you nothing but trouble!’ he added, before realising from the blank, shuttered expression on his nephew’s face that he’d gone too far.

‘Thank you for your kind advice,’ Antonio drawled icily. ‘However, I must tell you that, strange as it may seem, I’m perfectly capable of running my private life without your assistance.’

‘Yes, well…’ His uncle shrugged. ‘I may have been a bit out of order…’

Antonio gave a snort of grim laughter. ‘You most certainly were! Especially since the idea of finding myself a rich wife is definitely not on my list of priorities just at the moment.’

‘But, all the same, I do wish that…’

‘Quite frankly, I’m far more interested in obtaining new contracts,’ Antonio said, firmly changing the subject. ‘Particularly in supplying our own brand of sherry to supermarkets in France, Germany and Italy. I also have high hopes of attracting some new business in North America,’ he added, before quickly glancing down at his watch. ‘Which is why I really must get back to work. I’m leaving tomorrow for a quick business trip around Europe,’ he said, rising to his feet and walking towards the door.

‘Unfortunately I can only afford to be away from the office for a week. But if I can manage to clinch those deals it will at least give us a breathing space. And also enable me to do some serious financial planning for the future.’

‘You’ve mentioned America. What about the supermarkets in Britain?’

With his hand on the doorknob, Antonio paused, before turning slowly around, his dark eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

‘I hadn’t intended visiting London on this trip. But it now looks as if I may have to. I’m becoming increasingly worried about a large shipment of some of our very best wines which was dispatched to Brandon’s of Pall Mall, in England, well over a month ago.’

‘What’s the problem?’

‘I’m still not sure,’ the younger man admitted with a slight shrug. ‘For some reason, it appears to have gone missing. Needless to say I’ve been on the phone for the last two days, trying to track it down. But with absolutely no success so far.’

‘Surely a consignment that large shouldn’t be too hard to find?’

‘Which is precisely what I have been telling those English wine merchants!’ Antonio gave a short bark of sardonic laughter. ‘I know Sir Robert Brandon is an old friend of yours, Uncle, but I have to say that it looks as though his methods of doing business are still firmly rooted in the nineteenth century!’

‘You may regard Sir Robert and myself as ancient dinosaurs,’ his uncle retorted, ‘but if you do go to England it might be worth talking over your problems with him. He is, after all, one of the cleverest businessmen in the wine trade.’

‘Hmm…I’ll think about it,’ Antonio said as he turned to open the door, not overly impressed with the idea of picking the brains of his uncle’s old friend.

‘In the meantime—take care of yourself, Uncle. I should be back in my office by next Monday,’ he added with a smile, before leaving the room.

Striding swiftly down the corridor towards the front door of his uncle’s house, Antonio could only feel sorry for the elderly and infirm man, now confined to a wheelchair.

However, the brutal facts of life were that if only his uncle had resigned his position as head of the company immediately after becoming aware of his bad heart condition the family business would not now be in such a mess. Unfortunately the old man had refused to listen to his doctor’s advice, continuing to run the business his own way and only finally relinquishing control when forced to do so, after his last heart attack.

Which had meant that, instead of being able to make long-term plans for taking over the family business, Antonio had been forced to immediately abandon his highly lucrative career as an international tax lawyer in Madrid. And on his return home to Jerez he’d been faced with some fairly major problems.

The most important of which was the urgent need to bring modern organisation and technique into every corner of the business, Antonio told himself grimly as he left the house, running down the steps and across to where his sports car was parked, beneath the shade of some olive trees.

The extensive Ramirez family vineyards might produce some of the finest and most sought-after wines in the Spanish sherry trade, but his uncle had clearly never even heard of computers or the Internet. And there was virtually nothing in the way of records since his uncle had believed in handling as little paperwork as possible.

In fact, Antonio mused, drumming his fingers on the driving wheel of his car for a moment before switching on the engine, the meeting with his bankers this afternoon should, with any luck, help to solve most of his problems. Because the sooner he could start completely overhauling the family business the better!

Turning around his wheelchair, and gazing out through the open window as his nephew’s black Porsche disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust, Emilio sat buried in thought for some time.

He was well aware of just how difficult it must have been for Antonio to give up his highly successful career. Not that the younger man had ever complained, of course. But it must have been a wrench to be forced to suddenly abandon his friends, colleagues and that glamorous apartment in Madrid simply because he was the only one in the family capable of running the business.

He clearly had no way of lightening Antonio’s heavy burden, of course. But maybe…maybe there was something he could do about the financial problems facing his nephew…

While he might be stuck in this damned wheelchair there was still life in the old dog yet, Emilio told himself with a chuckle, before spinning around to pick up the phone on his desk.

‘Sí…’ he said as his call was answered at the other end of the line. ‘Señor Don Roberto…por favor…’

At approximately the same time, although many hundreds of miles away, Georgina Brandon was muttering furiously under her breath as she slammed down the phone.

She’d never got on with the manager of the company’s headquarters at Pall Mall in London. And it was just like the slimy two-faced man to try and blame Gina and her staff for his own shortcomings.

Besides, exactly why he seemed to think such a very large, valuable consignment of top-class sherry would have been sent to the Ipswich branch office, here in Suffolk, she had absolutely no idea. Surely it was far more likely to be found at their other warehouse, in Bristol? Or most probably tucked away in the vast dusty cellars in Pall Mall.

But the loss of such a valuable shipment seemed the very least of her worries at the moment. Because—while she might enjoy hearing that the head of the world-famous Bodega Ramirez had well and truly chewed the ear off that creep in London—she’d been utterly devastated to learn exactly who was now the new Chairman and Managing Director of the Ramirez company.

‘Antonio? Antonio Ramirez?’ she’d gasped down the phone, just a few moments ago.

‘Yeah. Surely you must have heard that he’d taken over the business from his old uncle Emilio?’

‘No…no, I didn’t know…’ she’d muttered, her trembling hands almost dropping the phone as she’d tried to get her head around this startling and highly alarming piece of information.

‘Well, well! Fancy clever Miss Georgina Brandon not being up with the latest news in the wine trade! I expect that’s what comes of being stuck out in the boondocks of Suffolk,’ the London manager had added with a slight laugh.

Feeling far too shattered to even try and cut the awful man down to size, she’d remained silent as he’d admitted that her grandfather was not at all happy about the situation.

‘With Antonio Ramirez well and truly on the war-path, Sir Robert says that we’ve got to find that shipment, as fast as possible. Apparently the guy is a lawyer. And you know what they’re like—never happier than when suing the socks off rich companies like your grandpa’s! So, you’d better go through all the bills of lading with a fine-tooth comb. Or it could be you for the high jump,’ he’d added with relish, before putting down the phone.

Still feeling stunned by the news of Antonio’s direct involvement in his family’s huge wine-making business, Gina took a deep breath.

It was no good sitting here at her desk in a complete daze, feeling as if she’d been suddenly hit very hard by a blow to the solar plexus, she told herself, brushing a shaky hand through her long, pale blond hair. She was really going to have to pull herself together—and try to get a firm grip on the situation.

After all…it was eight years since she’d seen hide or hair of the man with whom she’d fallen so desperately in love. But she’d been only eighteen at the time, for heaven’s sake. And young girls were always falling in and out of love, with the most unsuitable men. It happened all the time. Besides, she’d had lots of boyfriends since then. And if none of them had ever caused the slightest dent in her heart? Well, she had plenty of time in hand before she needed to start worrying about finding Mr Right!

As branch manager of a large wine merchant’s business she was used to dealing with the various fine sherries bearing the Bodega Ramirez label. So why get in such a panic just because this was the first time she’d heard any mention of Antonio’s name?

What was more…if she’d ever stopped to think about it she ought to have known that sooner or later he was bound to succeed his uncle in the business. Just as she was due, eventually, to take over her grandfather’s large, prestigious business.

Founded in 1791 by her ancestor, Captain James Brandon—who, after retiring from the navy and marrying a rich Spanish widow, had begun importing and blending high-quality sherry and wine from her family’s vineyards near Cadiz—Brandon’s of Pall Mall was now one of the oldest and most successful wine merchants in the country. Moreover, the ever-increasing value of the property owned by the family, particularly the large buildings situated in such an expensive area of London, was now enormous.

Handed down over the generations from father to son, the chain had been cruelly broken with the tragically early death of her parents in a car accident, when Gina had been only a little girl. Since her father had been an only child, she’d been raised by her grandparents, always knowing that she was the sole heiress to the family business.

Unfortunately, her increasingly desperate prayers each night—that her dear grandfather would remain at the helm for many years to come—were looking increasingly unlikely to be answered. He’d never really recovered from the death of her beloved grandmother, five years ago, and appeared to be growing more frail in body, if not in spirit, with each passing day. And she dreaded the prospect of having to take over the running of the business in the near future.

On the other hand, her grandfather had certainly done all he could to give her a good grounding in the wine trade. He’d been pleased when she had developed a good ‘nose’ and palate, and delighted when she’d passed the necessary exams to become a Master of Wine. And now, with her recent appointment as manager of the firm’s Ipswich shop and warehouse, she was in the process of gaining valuable business experience.

But there was no getting away from the fact that she was only twenty-six. And there was a world of difference between running a small branch and managing a large international corporation.

However, all that lay in the future. In the meantime she had to do her best to try and forget her past, very brief relationship with Antonio Ramirez—and start looking for his missing wine shipment!

But as it turned out that was easier said than done.

Four days later, and despite an exhaustive search of the shop, warehouse and old cellars, Gina still hadn’t found any trace of the Spanish consignment. Moreover, having checked and double-checked the current bills of lading, she’d drawn a complete blank there, as well. So, wherever the missing shipment had got to, it definitely wasn’t in Suffolk!

Unfortunately, it seemed that the news about Antonio Ramirez had prompted the return of that utterly hideous dream…the dreadful nightmare which had repeatedly plagued her late teens and made her life a misery for such a long time. For the past few days she’d found herself waking up after a disturbed, restless sleep, drenched in perspiration and trembling with deep shame and embarrassment.

Goodness knows, she’d done her best to bury those unhappy memories of when she’d obviously been far too young and innocent to understand the harsh realities of life. Which made it all the more maddening now to discover that Antonio’s dark, highly dangerous figure had only been lurking just out of sight—hidden for the past eight years, somewhere within her subconscious, so that merely the mention of his name had brought him—and total recollection of that time in her life—sharply back to the surface of her mind once again.

Which was utterly daft! She’d got over him years ago. To let herself get into such a state was totally pathetic, Gina railed at herself angrily. But, although talking sternly to herself hadn’t yet solved the problem, she knew that sooner or later the dreams would stop, and she could get back to her usual, mentally well-adjusted way of life.

All of which was sensible advice, Gina was telling herself firmly, late on Thursday morning, when the phone on her desk gave a sharp ring.

‘Hi, Grandpa… Yes, yes, everything’s fine,’ she quickly assured the old man. ‘No, I’m sorry. There’s no trace of that shipment. I’ve been through every scrap of paperwork here in the office, and I can’t find anything at all.’

‘I’m afraid that’s irrelevant now, since a representative of the Spanish firm is insisting on checking the stock in the warehouse,’ Sir Robert Brandon’s thin, reedy voice informed her.

‘Well—that’s a total waste of time,’ she retorted. ‘I know we haven’t got it. I mean, we could hardly miss a shipment of that size, could we?’

‘Nevertheless, I have Antonio Ramirez sitting in my outer office, here in London…’

‘What?’

‘…and I expect him to be with you either late in the afternoon or early this evening.’

‘But…but…the office will be closed by then!’ she retorted breathlessly, her knuckles whitening as she tightly gripped the phone. ‘I mean, what’s the point of him coming all the way up here and…and not being able to look for his beastly wine?’

‘Really, Gina!’ her grandfather protested. ‘What on earth has come over you? I sincerely hope that I can rely on you to treat Don Antonio with every courtesy?’

‘Yes…yes, of course. I’m sorry,’ she mumbled helplessly, feeling totally stunned and somehow unable to stop herself trembling, as if in the grip of a raging fever.

‘Oh, Lord! I’ve just realised…’ she added hurriedly. ‘If he’s going to be arriving that late I’d better book him into one of the local country house hotels. Maybe Hintlesham Hall? The food is really excellent, and…’

‘My dear girl—what is wrong with you?’ Sir Robert Brandon retorted tetchily. ‘For generations we’ve had a long-standing trading partnership with his company. And his uncle is, of course, an old friend of mine. Which is why I’ve already told Don Antonio that we wouldn’t dream of him staying anywhere other than in our own home.’

‘Our own home…?’ she echoed vacantly, her numbed brain clearly not functioning on all cylinders.

‘And I’m quite sure that I can rely on you to see that he is well looked after,’ her grandfather told her firmly, before terminating the call.

‘Oh, my God…oh, my God… What in the hell am I going to do?’ Gina found herself muttering, before jumping to her feet and striding rapidly up and down her office as she realised that matters were rapidly going from bad to far, far worse!

How could she have forgotten that she’d agreed to give the housekeeper and her husband a long weekend off, to visit their daughter in Wales? And, glancing down at her watch, she realised that they would have already left the house and be well on their way by now.

‘For heaven’s sake—calm down,’ she said, forcing herself to stand still and take some deep breaths to steady her nerves.

It was a large old house, with many guest rooms, and she was perfectly capable of coping with Antonio on her own. After all, she was no longer a silly young girl, and was quite used to entertaining business guests. Besides, it was years since she’d set eyes on the man. Why, he could be married, with a whole host of children by now. Anyway, hadn’t Grandpa said that Antonio wouldn’t be arriving until this evening?

So…if she booked a table for dinner in a good local restaurant—making absolutely certain that all conversation was kept firmly to business matters—she shouldn’t have too much of a problem. Then, when Antonio discovered that his missing shipment of wine definitely wasn’t here, he’d obviously be off, back to wherever he’d come from, by midday tomorrow at the latest.

All the same…there was no point in sitting here in the office, feeling as though she was going to be sick any moment. In fact, the sooner she went home and checked that the beds were made up in the guest bedrooms the better.

While still feeling coiled up tight like an over-wound clock spring, Gina could almost physically feel herself beginning to relax slightly as she drove her small Mazda sports car down the long drive, lined with ancient oak trees, to Bradgate Manor.

She’d always loved the large old Tudor mansion, which had been the country home of the Brandon family since the days of Queen Victoria—when it had been acquired by her great-great-grandfather for his young wife, who had been born and raised in Suffolk. And it was, of the course, one of the reasons why Gina had jumped at the opportunity of working in the local Ipswich office.

Who wouldn’t prefer living deep in the country when compared to life in the crowded, dusty streets of London? Gina asked herself as she parked her car in the garage next to the stable block and walked slowly back towards the house. And especially on a lovely sunny day in early June, with no sound to disturb the peace other than the faint cooing of wood pigeons from a nearby clump of trees and the distant hum of a tractor in one of the fields.

Having checked that everything was in order, and deciding to place Antonio in a guest suite as far away from her own bedroom as possible, Gina found herself wandering restlessly through the empty house. In fact, she was feeling so tense and strained that she couldn’t seem to keep still for more than a few seconds.

Firmly reminding herself that there was no reason why Antonio should recall the time when a young, gauche teenager had made such an utter fool of herself wasn’t much use, either. Because, try as she might, she couldn’t seem to banish from her mind’s eye a vision of the dangerously exciting figure of Antonio Ramirez.

With his head of curly hair the colour of raven’s wings—either worn loose, curling over his collar at the back of his neck, or wet-combed tightly to his head, after a shower—and the deeply disturbing, wicked glint in those large, gleaming dark eyes, heavily fringed with long black eyelashes, he’d been devastatingly attractive!

So it was no wonder, she told herself, that an impressionable young girl, fresh out of school, had immediately fallen head over heels in love with the most strikingly handsome man she’d ever seen. Who also happened to be the brother of her best friend, with whom she’d been staying during that Easter holiday all those years ago.

And Gina clearly hadn’t been the only one to be so affected by the twenty-six-year-old man’s aura of strong masculinity and rampant sex appeal. Just about every female in the large, extended Spanish family between the ages of nine and ninety had seemed to regard Antonio in exactly the same light.

‘Just look at them!’ Roxana had laughed. ‘They’re all over my brother, like a rash. Estúpidas…no?’

And she’d been the most stupid of all! Gina recalled grimly. Then she became furious with herself for getting in such a state about an episode—however shameful and embarrassing—which had happened so very long ago. Then she brought herself up with a start. This simply would not do! It was utterly ridiculous to keep on pacing up and down, getting more and more nervous with every passing minute, while waiting for the damned man to turn up. In fact, what she needed was some fresh air and exercise. So, the most sensible decision would be to get changed and take her horse out for a good hard gallop.

That would definitely blow the dusty cobwebs of memory from her mind, she told herself firmly, spinning around on her heels and running up the wide, old oak staircase towards her bedroom.

Antonio’s lips tightened with annoyance as, for what seemed the hundredth time, he quickly stamped on the brake.

Having to drive a strange car on the wrong side of the road was bad enough. But the amount of traffic on this heavily congested route leading out of London was proving enough to try the patience of a saint.

However, taking into account the possible loss of his wine, and that quite extraordinary meeting with old Sir Robert Brandon, he told himself grimly, it now looked as if he’d made a very bad mistake by including this quick trip to Britain in his tight schedule.

‘I’m so sorry, my boy,’ Sir Robert Brandon had told him earlier today. ‘It looks as if that shipment of yours has been misdirected to our branch at Ipswich, in Suffolk. I’ll put my staff on to tracking it down straight away.’

Unfortunately, Sir Robert’s idea of ‘straight away’ seemed to mean that it would take at least two weeks to sort out the problem.

‘Two weeks!’ Antonio had exclaimed in horror. ‘But I hadn’t planned to spend more than a day or two in England.’

However, after some discussion, he’d reluctantly agreed that his best and possibly only option was to visit Brandon’s office and large warehouse at Ipswich, in Suffolk.

‘It isn’t a long drive,’ Sir Robert had assured him. ‘So why not allow me to show you around the cellars here, in Pall Mall, hmm? We have some very old cases of vintage wines which I think you might find interesting.’

Since the two families had been trading closely together for well over a hundred and fifty years, it had seemed discourteous to refuse the invitation. And that, as he now acknowledged grimly, had proved to be a major error on his part. Because after the tour of the wine cellars he’d found himself being pressured into joining Sir Robert for lunch.

‘No…no, I can’t possibly let you go without giving you something to eat,’ the old man had insisted. ‘And I’ve been looking forward to hearing all about my old friend Emilio. I was really so very sorry to hear about your uncle’s illness.’

Finding himself boxed into a corner, Antonio hadn’t seen that he’d had any choice but to accept the invitation. And with Sir Robert’s servants moving like snails around the huge dining room of the large, private house in Pall Mall—taking hours to serve a very long, ridiculously grand meal—it had gradually become clear that he hadn’t a hope of reaching Brandon’s office in Suffolk before it had closed for the day.

If he’d had any sense, he should have written off that valuable consignment of sherry—high-tailing it back to Spain as quickly as possible. In fact, he had nearly called the whole thing off when Sir Robert had casually let fall the information that his granddaughter was currently managing the branch office in Ipswich.

‘Gina’s a clever girl,’ the old man had continued. ‘Only relation of mine still alive. So it seems a good way of giving her some experience of running things, before she takes over the business when I’m gone.’

Which was the first intimation he’d had that this trip to England might definitely prove to be a major mistake, Antonio told himself edgily, not at all sure how he felt about finding himself suddenly pitch-forked into dealing with a girl whom he hadn’t seen for eight years.

And the subsequent conversation about the elderly man’s frail health certainly hadn’t improved matters either.

Swearing under his breath, Antonio drummed his fingers irritably on the driving wheel, trying to think what he was going to do about what appeared to be an increasingly tricky situation.

Because, of course, he had no problem recalling Gina Brandon, or the events of that weekend all those years ago when his family and their guests had attended the spring fiesta in Seville.

He hadn’t forgotten how they’d avoided the rest of the party, determined to spend the day together. Nor her desperate terror as she’d tried to control a frisky young horse, when she’d clearly had neither the skills nor the experience to do so. Or the young girl’s shy, enchanting smile and the long, pale blond hair swirling enticingly about her slim body as they’d become caught up in the hot-blooded, fiery Sevillanas—the traditional dance of Andalusia.

And then, surprising in its clarity, he suddenly recalled that ride in the early hours of the morning, through the empty and deserted streets of Seville. The ghostly sound of the horses’ hooves over the cobbles. And the moonlight, flooding in through the carriage window, which had thrown dark, mysterious shadows over the high cheekbones of the girl’s heart-shaped face, causing her to look far older than her years. Which had been the only excuse he could find when recollecting with bitter shame his subsequent behaviour.

Forget it! That was all a very long time ago, he reminded himself grimly. In fact, there was every chance that she, at least, would have completely forgotten all about the unfortunate episode.

In any case, he had every intention of confining all conversation to the subject of business. Or that of the wine trade. And first thing tomorrow morning he’d locate his missing shipment and fly back to Spain—as quickly as possible.

Satisfied now that he’d come to a decision, Antonio realised, after a quick glance at the map, that he was nearing his destination. And only a few minutes later he caught sight of a large pair of wrought-iron gates bearing a sign: Bradgate Manor.

Travelling slowly down the long winding driveway, edged by tall oak trees, Antonio eventually brought his vehicle to a halt outside the front door of a large house.

Stepping out of the car, he stretched his tall, rangy body, clothed in a short-sleeved, open-necked black shirt and black trousers, before turning to gaze at the classical Tudor building.

The large diamond-paned windows were sparkling in the late-afternoon sun, which also cast long shadows over the old brickwork and heavy oak beams, the wide porch covered with rambling roses in shades of red and pink.

It seemed incredibly still and quiet as he made his way to the front door. In fact, other than the noise of his shoes crunching over the gravel, he could hear nothing except the rustle of a light breeze through the leaves of nearby trees.

Slightly surprised to find the front door wide open, Antonio rang the bell several times without gaining any response. However, after hesitating for some moments, he stepped inside, feeling slightly foolish as he called out to the unseen occupants. But, other than the sound of his own voice echoing in the large oak-beamed hall, the large house remained totally silent.

Perplexed, he walked slowly across the grey flagstones towards a large door—which was also wide open—on the far side of the hall. This, as he discovered, opened out on to stone steps leading down to a wide terrace running the length of the house. Standing on the steps, he had an excellent view of the wide green lawn and its surrounding parkland.

Beginning to wonder if he had somehow wandered into an earthbound version of the Marie Celeste, Antonio suddenly caught sight of a horse and rider, galloping swiftly across the park towards the house.

Raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, now lying low in the sky as it slipped down over the horizon, he gradually realised two salient facts. Not only was the horse a huge, strong animal, but it gave every appearance of having the bit firmly between its teeth and bolting out of control. While the rider—clearly a female, if that long blonde hair was anything to go by—looked as if she was in trouble. In fact, as far as he could see, she seemed to be clinging helplessly to the horse’s mane.

Without another moment’s thought, Antonio ran down the stone steps and raced across the lawn, before quickly vaulting over the wooden fence edging the park. Realising that he must try and stop the horse from attempting to jump the fence—with possibly grave consequences for its rider—he ran with arms outstretched towards the large animal.

The next few, brief seconds seemed to pass by in slow motion, as Antonio’s action appeared to disconcert the huge beast. Thundering to a halt, it reared up before the strange man, its eyes rolling wildly, thick specks of white foam billowing from its mouth.

Leaping up to catch hold of the reins, and hanging on to them for dear life as the horse reared up again, its huge hooves beating in the air, he gradually managed to bring the animal under control. And it was only when he was murmuring soothing words, and gently stroking the horse’s neck, that he had the opportunity to pay some attention to its rider.

Her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, she raised a hand to brush the long, tangled cloud of pale blonde hair from her face. And then, her blue eyes widening with shock and confusion, he could almost see the blood visibly draining from her pale cheeks.

‘Hola, Gina!’ he drawled, smiling up at the girl who appeared to be totally dumbfounded by his sudden appearance, stunned into silence and continuing to stare down at him as if he was a ghost.

‘It looks as if you are still having problems with horses—just as you did all those years ago in Seville!’ he laughed, keeping a firm grip on the reins with one hand, while putting out the other to help her dismount.

‘So…it seems that I must come to your rescue—yet again! No…?’

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT do you think you’re doing?’ Gina demanded angrily, when she was at last able to catch her breath.

‘My dear Gina…what does it look as if I’m doing?’ He grinned sardonically up at her. ‘Surely I am—as you would say in England—rescuing a damsel in distress?’

‘What?’ She frowned down at him, not having a clue what he was talking about.

‘Your horse was clearly out of control,’ he pointed out, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘And, since you also appeared to be in some trouble, I naturally assumed…’

‘Nonsense!’ she snapped, leaning forward to give her horse a pat on the neck. ‘There was absolutely no need to give poor Pegasus such a fright. And I certainly was not in trouble,’ she added grimly, tightening her grip on the thin leather reins and giving them a quick jerk.

Desperately longing to be able to dig her heels into lazy old Pegasus, and get the hell out of this highly embarrassing situation, Gina realised that she was well and truly stuck. Now that he was so near his stable, her beastly horse wasn’t likely to budge an inch. And with Antonio continuing to grin sardonically up at her—while still maintaining his iron grip on the reins—there was clearly nothing she could do.

‘Nevertheless, this animal appeared to be clearly terrified, and bolting out of control,’ Antonio pointed out in a maddening, condescending tone of voice. ‘Which is precisely why, my dear Gina, I quickly realised that I must come to your rescue. Yet again!’ he added with a low rumble of laughter.

‘Hah! That’s all you know!’ she ground out furiously, her palms itching to smack that superior smile off his handsome face.

Quickly slipping one of her black leather boots out of its stirrup, she swung her leg up over the saddle and jumped lightly down on to the ground beside him.

And that, Gina realised almost immediately, had been a bad, bad mistake.

For one thing, she had immediately lost the advantage of height which she’d had when perched on her horse’s back. And although at five foot ten inches she was normally regarded as being a tall woman, she now found herself having to look up at the man standing beside her.

And besides…well, now that she was standing so close to him, she could almost feel the tough, physical aura, the dramatic sense of power and overwhelming masculine sexuality, which had always seemed to positively ooze from every pore of Antonio’s tall, dynamic figure.

Nothing has changed, she told herself with a sinking heart. How could life be so unfair? Surely after all this time he could at least have done her the great favour of becoming disgustingly fat…or bald…or as ugly as sin…

Unfortunately, as much as it might hurt her to admit the truth, it seemed as if the passage of time had hardly touched the rotten man.

In fact, with that short-sleeved black shirt emphasising his broad shoulders, and those trousers positively hugging his slim waist and hips, he was clearly in great shape. Although his face now seemed slightly thinner than she remembered—throwing into relief his high cheekbones, and giving him a more hawk-like expression—he was still the same diabolically attractive man she’d known all those years ago.

Come on! Get a grip on the situation. You’ve got to pull yourself together—and fast! she yelled silently at her inner self, who was clearly going weak at the knees in response to his overwhelming sex appeal. Not to mention the soft, caressing effect his Spanish accent was having on her trembling body.

How could she be so stupid, for heaven’s sake? This man had always been Trouble with a capital T, as far as she was concerned. And she’d be an idiot not to keep that thought firmly at the very front of her mind!

‘If you must know…far from bolting, as you put it, greedy old Pegasus was just galloping back to his stable—looking forward to a fresh bag of hay!’ she told Antonio through gritted teeth.

‘He always does that when we turn for home after being out for a ride,’ she added, brushing the long fair hair from her face as she raised her chin defiantly towards him. ‘And I happen to enjoy the gallop home every bit as much as he does!’

‘Ah…’

‘So, you see…I most certainly did not need rescuing by you, señor!’

“‘Señor”…?’ he murmured dryly, and her cheeks flushed as she registered the cool, ironic tone in his deep voice. ‘Ah, Gina! Surely I was once “Antonio” to you…?’

‘Yes…well…that was a very long time ago,’ she muttered, bitterly aware of the breathless, husky note in her own voice and the hot tide of crimson now sweeping up over her pale complexion. ‘I…er…I’m a completely different person nowadays.’

‘Umm…yes, I can see that you most certainly are!’ he drawled, his dark eyes fringed with long, thick lashes gleaming with sardonic amusement as he viewed the tall, slender figure standing beside him.

With her long, ash-blonde hair flowing down well past her shoulders, it was obvious to Antonio that the young girl whom he’d once known had now matured into a beautiful woman. Her pale alabaster skin, fine bone structure and high forehead over hauntingly vivid sapphire-blue eyes all combined to give her a faintly medieval appearance. Just the sort of looks, in fact, which would have recommended her to artists such as Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo.

Regrettably, however, his rather more down-to-earth, basic instincts were irrepressibly drawn to her high, firm breasts, and the slim waist and hips emphasised by those close-fitting jodhpurs.

Why was it, he found himself wondering idly, that the sight of a woman dressed in pale-coloured, skin-tight riding breeches and high, shiny black boots appeared to be quite so erotic?

However, he quickly realised, only a second or two later, that Miss Gina Brandon did not seem to appreciate him viewing her with such close interest. Especially if the sight of the angry glint in her large blue eyes, and those soft lips now drawn into a hard, tight line of annoyance was anything to go by!

Damned cheek! Gina gritted her teeth, fuming with resentment.

Having been a bag of nerves all afternoon and feeling sick with apprehension about the sudden reappearance of Antonio in her life, Gina was now almost grateful for the tide of fury surging through her veins. Besides, rage and anger had to be much safer emotions than the highly dangerous siren call of Antonio’s overwhelmingly sensual appeal, to which she’d found herself so weakly responding earlier.

Struggling to overcome yet another urgent desire to give that handsome tanned face a good, hard slap, she forced herself to take a deep breath.

‘I think we’ve stood out here in the park quite long enough—don’t you?’ she said as coolly as she could, before stalking past Antonio towards the wooden fence and swinging open a five-barred gate.

Since he’d been so determined, earlier, to hang on to Pegasus’s reins, he could damn well be useful and lead the horse back to its manger, she thought defiantly, simply not caring if she was being a lousy hostess as she strode ahead of him towards the stable block.

However, by the time that Pegasus was unsaddled, and safely bedded down in his stable, Gina had managed to get herself back on an even keel. Helped, it must be said, by the completely unexpected, matter-of-fact way in which Antonio, without needing to be asked, had automatically brushed down the large animal while she’d filled nets with fresh hay, for both Pegasus and the elderly mare whom she kept as his stable companion.

‘Would you care for a pot of tea?’ Gina asked as she bolted the door of the stables before leading the way towards the house. ‘Or maybe…’ She glanced down at her watch as they entered the hall, surprised to see that it was almost six o’clock. ‘Maybe you’d prefer a drink?’

While Antonio, who’d never understood the fondness of the English for their traditional cup of tea, was agreeing that a drink would be welcome, Gina caught sight of herself in a large mirror on the wall.

It was all she could do not to groan out loud with dismay. It was deeply galling to realise that she’d spent the last half-hour looking such a fright. Because it must have been in the stable that she’d picked up those bits of straw in her hair, and the large smear of dust on her face.

Just as she was wondering if she could leave Antonio to twiddle his thumbs, while she rushed upstairs and tried to make herself look more presentable, she was startled to see the reflection of his tanned, handsome face appearing beside her.

‘Oh, Lord—what a mess!’ she muttered, giving him a fleeting, nervous smile in the mirror as she quickly tried to brush the dust from her cheek.

‘No problema…’ he murmured, standing close behind her tense figure and calmly plucking the long, thin pieces of straw from her tangled locks.

Unable to prevent an involuntary slight shiver at the touch of his warm fingers brushing against her skin, Gina was surprised to find herself meekly allowing him to turn her around. And, even more astonishingly, waiting patiently while he took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to slowly brush the dust from her cheek.

‘That’s much better,’ he said, taking a step back and allowing his gaze to roam slowly, once more, over her full breasts and slim-waisted figure.

‘Oh, yes…you’ve definitely grown up since we last met, Gina,’ he drawled, the sardonic amusement in his voice suddenly setting her teeth on edge. ‘And now we can maybe have that drink you mentioned?’

She was swept by a sudden, quick flash of furious self-disgust at having allowed herself to be cut down to size. And by this man, of all people, she told herself grimly, fed up to the back teeth at the alarming speed with which her emotions seemed to be violently swinging up and down from one minute to the next.

It was like…well, it was just like being on a roller-coaster, she told herself, before giving him a curt nod and stomping off across the hall. The sharp, staccato sound of her leather-soled boots on the hard grey flagstones betrayed her momentary anger, and caused Antonio’s lips to twitch with amusement as he followed her into a large kitchen.

‘There’s some beer and a bottle of wine in the fridge. However, if you’d prefer something stronger…?’

Having assured her that chilled white wine would be perfect, and after carrying the small tray outside on to the terrace, Antonio raised the question of why the house had appeared to be so deserted on his arrival.

‘It wasn’t too clever of me to leave all the doors open,’ she admitted, sitting down on the long stone seat set against the side of the house and trying not to stare at his long, tanned fingers as they deftly removed the cork from the wine bottle.

‘Although we usually do, if it’s a hot afternoon like today,’ she told him with a slight shrug, before adding carelessly, ‘But I suppose I should have remembered that the Lamberts are away for a long weekend.’

Antonio raised a dark, quizzical eyebrow. ‘The Lamberts…?’

Damn! Why didn’t I keep my stupid mouth shut? Gina asked herself irritably.

She was a grown woman, and quite sensible enough to realise that while Antonio might well try and flirt with her that was as far as he was likely to go. And, let’s face it, she told herself wryly, he was just the sort of guy who automatically turned on the charm whenever in the presence of a female—whatever their age might be.

However, she really didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. It was just possible that, having told him she was alone in the house, he might think she was expecting him to come on to her. So…it might be as well to hit that nail hard on the head straight away.

‘Yes, the housekeeper and her husband, Doris and Ted Lambert, are away for the weekend,’ Gina said as he handed her a glass of wine. ‘They’ve looked after the house—and my grandfather—for the last twenty years. Quite honestly,’ she added with a quick grin, ‘I don’t know what we’d do without them.’

‘Ah, yes, I see.’

‘However…Doris always lays on one of her friends in the village to come in and clean when she’s away. And since her friend is apt to sing hymns at the top of her voice, early in the morning, I’ve given you a bedroom suite in the far wing of the house,’ Gina told him, adding casually, ‘As far away from the main block and the other bedrooms as possible.’

‘I see. All is explained,’ he murmured enigmatically, leaving her to worry about whether she’d been too obvious as he came over to sit down on the stone bench beside her. ‘But it must be a problem having no cook in the kitchen?’

‘Nonsense!’ Gina laughed nervously, wishing that he had chosen to sit on one of the comfortable garden chairs instead. Unfortunately, there was no getting away from the fact that she was finding the close proximity of this man distinctly disturbing.

‘I’m perfectly capable of cooking a meal,’ she told him briskly. ‘Good wine and good food are natural partners. Which is why I spent a year doing a cordon bleu course in Paris, when I left school. However, since I didn’t have much warning of your arrival today, I’ve booked a table for dinner at one of the local restaurants,’ she added, before rising to her feet and suggesting that he might like to be shown to his room.

Luckily, the situation wasn’t proving to be nearly so awkward as she had feared, Gina told herself some hours later, as she leaned back in her chair, gazing around the crowded restaurant.

In fact, he appeared to approve of her very plain, black silk sleeveless dress, and the simple row of pearls which had belonged to her mother. And apart from a slight altercation when Antonio had adamantly insisted on them leaving the house in his car—‘I have never allowed myself to be driven by a woman—and I have no intention of doing so now!’—he was proving to be the perfect guest.

He’d also been charmed by the sight of the ivy-covered restaurant situated at the end of a narrow country lane, nodding with satisfaction when they’d been shown to a secluded table in the beautifully decorated dining room. Which clearly gave them some degree of privacy, and the opportunity of holding a conversation without being deafened by the chattering noise of the other diners.

‘I’d forgotten that it can be quite so noisy at times,’ she’d murmured apologetically, but he’d brushed her words aside.

‘That, my dear Gina, is merely the sign of a good restaurant,’ he’d told her, before turning his attention to the wine list.

Fortunately he’d approved of the wine list—always a tricky point when taking those in the trade out to dinner!—and there’d been some considerable discussion with the attentive head waiter over exactly what to drink with their choice of cold watercress soup and chicken in a tarragon sauce.

Not only had the wine and food proved to be delicious, but she’d found herself gradually relaxing and enjoying Antonio’s company: laughing at his wry, amusing description of the total chaos he’d discovered in the Bodega when taking over the reins of the family company from his uncle Emilio. ‘I’m not saying that the invoices were still being written with a quill pen.’ He’d grinned. ‘But the ancient telephone switchboard had clearly not been changed since the days of Alexander Graham Bell!’

And, of course, she’d been delighted to hear the up-to-date news of her old friend—his younger sister, Roxana, whom she’d met when the Spanish girl had spent a year at school in London to brush up her English.

Drawn together by the fact that they were both orphans—Roxana’s parents having also been killed in a car accident when she was only a small child—they’d not only become firm friends, but had spent long holidays at each other’s homes. Which was precisely how she’d first come to meet Antonio, Gina reminded herself, before quickly making a determined effort to banish the past from her mind.

‘She was always an amusing girl, no?’ Antonio had said with a broad smile, before explaining that his young sister, to the surprise of the whole family, had suddenly decided to take up a career in show business and was now appearing in one of the daily soap operas on Spanish television.

‘Good heavens!’ Gina had exclaimed, her smile widening when he’d informed her that those were exactly the same words used by his elderly grandmother on first seeing Roxana on TV. She’d been really pleased to hear that his old grandmother, Señora Ramirez, of whom she had fond memories, was still very much alive and ruling the roost at the family home in Jerez—where, it seemed, Antonio was also now based, since taking over the company.

Indeed, from what Antonio had said, it seemed as if he was going to have his work cut out, trying to drag the family wine business into the twenty-first century. And, thinking about some of the problems which he’d outlined, such as the need to make sure all his aged relatives continued receiving a reasonable income, Gina suddenly realised that it couldn’t have been much fun suddenly finding himself pitchforked into taking on the family responsibilities.

‘Do you have any regrets about having been forced to give up your career in the law?’ she’d asked. ‘The life of a wine maker in Jerez must be very different to that of a hot-shot lawyer in Madrid.’

‘I always knew that I would have to, at some point in my life, take over the family business, but my uncle was always very much of an autocrat,’ Antonio had said, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Which was why I decided to carve out a career of my own, until such time as my uncle Emilio decided to hand over the reins. And it would seem that you, too, are likely to be faced with very much the same sort of situation, if and when your grandfather decides to retire,’ he’d added with a smile.

However, she’d merely given a slight shrug of her own, before determinedly changing the subject by asking him his opinion of last year’s wines from the famous Rioja region in the north of Spain.

Despite doing her best to try and keep all conversation to their mutual business interest, Gina had found it increasingly difficult to harden her heart against his warm, obvious charm.

She must be careful, she warned herself now, as she leaned back in her seat to allow the waiter to clear away their plates. Not only did Antonio seem to have bowled over the restaurant’s staff with his engagingly friendly smile, but she was also clearly vulnerable. And she knew, only too well, just how this formidable man’s dark, almost irresistible attraction could affect her fragile emotions.

So, keep it light…light and friendly, she lectured herself sternly. Because, the last, the very last thing she wanted was any discussion about their past relationship.

Although to be fair to Antonio, she reminded herself, by the time he was driving them back home to Bradgate Manor, he’d made absolutely no reference to what had happened between them years ago.

‘It has been a very pleasant evening, Gina,’ he said, as he brought the car to a halt outside her home. He got out of the car and came around to open the passenger door. ‘Quite surprisingly so, in fact,’ he added, putting a hand on her arm as they walked towards the front door.

‘Oh…er…really?’ she muttered breathlessly, inwardly cursing her fumbling fingers, which seemed all over the place as she awkwardly tried to fit the key into the lock.

‘Here—let me do that for you,’ he said, his lips twitching with laughter, taking the keys from her hand and swiftly unlocking the door.

‘Yes…’ he continued as they entered the hall. ‘I must admit to having felt some qualms about meeting you again, after all these years. It might have been just…well, shall we say that it might have been just a little awkward?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she retorted, furious with herself for sounding so pathetically feeble, but not feeling capable of coping with this increasingly difficult situation.

‘Ah, Gina! Did you really forget all about me?’ he murmured, his tall figure standing close beside her now, at the foot of the staircase. ‘I am very sorry to hear that I meant so little to you.’

Forget him? I should have been so lucky!

‘No, well…the fact is…whatever happened…if anything did happen…a long time ago…and I really don’t think…’ she babbled incoherently, desperately wishing that she could suddenly sink through a hole in the floor and disappear safely from sight.

Unfortunately, while she had no trouble forming the words in her head, she was managing to sound an awful fool when trying to articulate them out loud. And what seemed to be making the problem ten times worse was the fact that he was now standing so close to her.

‘What I mean,’ she said, pulling herself together with some difficulty and attempting to sound a lot more confident than she felt, ‘is that whatever happened in the past is now—certainly as far as I’m concerned—dead and gone. To be truthful,’ she added, with as much dignity as she could muster, ‘I was a very young, silly girl at the time. And no one with any sense would wish to remember such a humiliating experience. So, I would be grateful if you would kindly not refer to the matter ever again.’

Antonio regarded her silently for a moment, before giving a brief shrug of his shoulders.

‘I will, of course, respect your decision,’ he murmured. ‘However…I must tell you that I still have some very fond memories of that time in Spain.’

Taking hold of her hand, he lifted it slowly to his lips. ‘Very fond memories, indeed,’ he added, pressing his soft lips to her trembling fingers once again, before letting go of her hand and turning to walk away across the hall.

Gazing at the tall figure lithely mounting the staircase towards his room on the far side of the house, Gina found her mind in a complete turmoil. And even when lying in her own bed, later that night, wide awake and unable to seek refuge in sleep, she could still hear his words pounding through her brain.

Despite having tossed and turned restlessly throughout the night, Gina awoke the next morning feeling surprisingly bright and cheerful.

Which must be due to the fact that there’d been no return of that awful nightmare, she assured herself. Although, to be honest, having firmly told Antonio that she was not prepared to discuss the past, in any shape or form, had probably also contributed to her feeling of well-being.

Not to mention the important fact that he really didn’t seem to regard their previous relationship in quite the same embarrassing light as she did.

So it was not surprising that, being relieved of the burden which she’d carried for so long, over the eight past years, she should now be feeling quite euphoric. Besides, the sun was shining. It was a lovely, fresh June morning. And, having showered, washed and blow-dried her hair, before slipping on a short-sleeved white blouse and tucking it inside the waistband of her straight, navy blue linen skirt, Gina told herself that it was no wonder she felt remarkably cheerful.

Unfortunately, as happened so often in life, the happy frame of mind in which she’d greeted the new day was fast disappearing by the time she and Antonio returned to the office, after a brief lunch in a local pub.

After a promising start—with Antonio appearing downstairs promptly for breakfast that morning and confirming that he’d spent a comfortable night before driving them both in his car to the office—things had promptly begun to go downhill from then on.

With two of her staff away—one on holiday and the other nursing a sick husband—Gina had known that she was likely to be short-staffed. But when Antonio had commandeered another two workers—‘I’m sorry, querida,’ he’d said, almost idly running a finger down her soft cheek, ‘but I really must locate that missing consignment’—she’d found herself being forced to work flat out all morning.

The situation had not been helped, it must be said, by the strange difficulty she had in concentrating on anything, his casual Spanish endearment and the touch of his finger on her face having left her feeling extraordinarily jumpy and strung up with nervous tension.

‘I told both Grandpa and the manager at our office in Pall Mall that we really did not have that consignment of yours on our premises,’ she told Antonio now, as they returned to the office after lunch. ‘As you’ve seen for yourself, it simply isn’t here.’

‘You would appear to be quite correct,’ he agreed with a heavy sigh. ‘However, while there’s no trace of the shipment in those bills of lading, I think that I must check through your warehouse and cellars myself, just to make certain that there’s no possibility of a mistake.’

Gina shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘I suppose that’s sensible,’ she commented. ‘But I’m afraid you can’t have those two young men who were helping you this morning. There’s a whole mass of cases which need delivering around the town, and I can’t afford to take them off duty and place them at your disposal.’

‘Fair enough. However, there’s no reason why you can’t show me around the cellars, is there?’

‘No, of course not,’ she agreed, painfully aware of the considerable amount of work already piling up on her own desk. Still, it would be a bonus to prove—if only to that awful manager in London—that there’d been no mismanagement in her branch, she told herself, collecting the keys from a drawer in her desk before leading him through the large old warehouse and down into the underground cellars.

This definitely wasn’t her favourite sort of place, Gina thought, glancing around the large, dark and dank cavernous space, located well below the level of the road above them.

With only a few shafts of daylight slanting in from the small windows set high up on the wall, this place was definitely very spooky. And all those huge cobwebs didn’t help, either! Glancing up at what seemed to be yards of dusty, tattered lace curtains hanging from the ceiling, she figured there must be a whole army of spiders spending their days spinning away like crazy. Ugh! Quite frankly, the sooner she was out of here, the happier she’d be!

‘No…as far as I can see there is no trace of my missing shipment down here,’ Antonio said, brushing the dust and cobwebs from his hands and looking about him as he approached her through an aisle of heavy cardboard cases. ‘Although, you certainly seem to have some interesting old wines stored down here,’ he added, coming to a halt beside her.

‘Yes. I think that some of them have been here since my great-great-grandfather’s day,’ she muttered, suddenly feeling rather peculiar.

Maybe it had something to do with the strange tones and shades of light down here in the cellar. Or the feeling of being dwarfed beneath the large stone columns supporting the roof, way above their heads. But, while he hadn’t said anything, and wasn’t even touching her, the physical sensations which she’d always associated with Antonio whenever she was in close proximity to his tall figure had suddenly returned with a vengeance. Her pulse felt as if it was racing out of control, and she could feel a deep flush spreading over her skin—an extraordinary sensation of white heat surging through her body.

The huge, vaulted room seemed to be shrinking about them, their two still figures caught in a time warp—one in which she was feeling increasingly weak and light-headed. The strained silence seemed to last for ever as she stared up into his gleaming dark eyes—a silence beating loudly on her eardrums as her mind was filled with disturbing, sensually erotic memories of the last time she’d found herself clasped in his arms.

As he took another slow step towards her nervous, trembling figure, she could feel her heart beginning to pound like a heavy drum, the thudding against her ribs producing a swift surge of adrenaline throughout her body and leaving her breathless, as though she’d just taken part in a hard-fought race.

Her mouth was suddenly feeling dry with a strange mixture of fear and tension. However, as she unconsciously moistened her lips with her tongue, he seemed to stiffen, his low, tersely muttered oaths suddenly cutting into the claustrophobic and highly oppressive silence.

‘Oh…um…just look at the time…I really must get back to the office…’ she gabbled, quickly spinning around on her heels and almost running towards the stairs leading out of the cellars, frantically anxious to get back to the normal, prosaic light of day. And well away from the highly disturbing Antonio Ramirez.

Walking swiftly towards her office, she almost bumped into her secretary, coming down the corridor towards her and brandishing a piece of paper in her hand.

‘I’ve just had a fax from our Bristol office, Miss Brandon,’ the girl said breathlessly, before raising her eyes past Gina’s shoulders as Antonio approached them.

‘They’ve found your missing shipment of wine in Bristol, Señor Ramirez,’ she told him with a wide, beaming smile.

‘Bueno.’ He grinned, taking the paper from her hands and quickly glancing down at the information it contained. ‘This is very satisfactory,’ he told the girl, giving her a warm smile of approval which clearly left her almost reeling with delight.

The man uses his charm like a weapon! Gina thought grimly, continuing on into her office and throwing herself down into the chair behind her desk in a thoroughly bad temper.

Yes, of course she was pleased that Antonio had at last found his precious shipment of wine. But, quite honestly, it was absolutely disgusting the way he only had to smile at a woman and she practically fell over backwards with excitement. Well! He needn’t think that she was prepared to behave in such a stupid fashion!

No, indeed! a small inner voice pointed out with heavy sarcasm. After all, now that Antonio has found his precious shipment of wine, you’re going to be thrilled to bits to see the last of him—aren’t you?

Oh—shut up! she told herself impatiently, well aware that she was not looking forward to his departure. After all it had taken her ages to recover from her last meeting with this man. Now with her emotions all over the place she had a horrid feeling that it would be a long, long time before she got over this recent encounter.

Hey! Where’s your pride, girl? she asked herself. There’s no way you’re going to let him guess just what a devastating effect he’s having on you. Right?

Damn right! She agreed firmly, before standing up, nervously brushing down her skirt and preparing to face the world—and Antonio—with a confident and happy smile.

The discovery that the wine was safely tucked away in the cellars in Bristol, and was being immediately transported down to Brandon’s headquarters in Pall Mall, seemed to have acted as a tonic as far as the staff of the Ipswich branch were concerned. And certainly Antonio himself seemed remarkably content, humming cheerfully under his breath as, in the late afternoon, he drove her back to Bradgate Manor.

For her part, Gina didn’t feel exactly like breaking into song. In fact, she was feeling highly depressed about the whole business. Although she was doing her best to keep that damned happy smile firmly pinned to her lips.

Still…she wouldn’t have to keep up the façade for very long. Just as soon as he’d collected his luggage Antonio would undoubtedly be off back down to London, impatient to catch a flight back to Spain.

‘Did you really spend a year doing a cookery course in Paris?’ Antonio said, breaking the silence as he brought the car to a halt outside the house.

‘Yes…yes I did,’ she confirmed, wondering why he should be interested as they walked across the gravelled forecourt and up the steps to the front door.

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