Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author

ANNE MATHER

Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the

publishing industry, having written over one hundred

and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than

forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance

for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,

passionate writing has given.

We are sure you will love them all!

I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

The Rodrigues Pregnancy
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE villa dreamed in the afternoon sunlight. Pale stone walls, blush pink tiles dripping with purple and white bougainvillea that curled over the eaves and framed the shuttered windows. There was iron grill-work circling the first floor gallery, a dark contrast to the vivid colours of the flowers. It was everything Olivia had hoped it would be and more besides.

It wasn’t big. Indeed, compared to the houses she’d shared with Tony over the years, it was almost conservatively small. But that suited her. She didn’t want big. She didn’t want impressive. She just wanted somewhere she could call her own. Somewhere she could live unnoticed, undisturbed.

Beyond the gardens—lush lawns and rioting vegetation—the blue-green waters of the Caribbean creamed onto an almost white beach. It was delightful, it was heaven, and it was hers—for the next few months at least.

But Olivia shivered suddenly as the memory of why she was here swept over her. Tony was dead. Her husband of more than fifteen years had died as he had lived, screwing his latest mistress. And, as if that weren’t enough, the police had informed her that they’d both been high on cocaine at the time.

Naturally the press had indulged in a feeding frenzy at these revelations. Antonio Mora had always been news and, even though he was dead, he’d continued to excite speculation. Particularly as his latest partner had been the wife of a local senator.

Of course that aspect of the affair had soon been hushed up, and the question of why Olivia had remained married to him for so many years had resurfaced with predictable ease. It had always been assumed that she’d overlooked his many sexual exploits because of his money. But it wasn’t true. If she’d divorced Tony she’d still have been a wealthy woman. She’d signed no prenuptial agreement. A good lawyer could have probably ensured that she’d get half of everything Tony had.

No, it was Luis who had ensured that she and her husband stayed together. Luis, who had been only three when she’d come to work for Tony as the boy’s nanny. And, after discovering the fiasco of their whirlwind marriage, it had been Luis she’d continued to love.

Not that Tony had been an unkind man. When they’d met for the first time, she’d been instantly attracted by his charm and good looks. What she hadn’t realised was that Tony had had a different agenda. While she’d been looking for a lasting relationship, he’d been looking for a mother for his son.

He’d known she would never do anything to hurt Luis. The child had taken to her from the start and she’d let that blind her to his father’s faults. Besides, after a fairly ordinary upbringing in England, she’d been flattered by Tony’s interest in her. No one knew better than she did how persuasive he could be.

Tony’s funeral had been a nightmare. Reporters from more than a dozen countries had been jostling for pictures of the ‘grieving’ widow. The fact that Olivia had found it impossible to put on a show for the media had aroused even more speculation. When she’d stood dry-eyed beside her husband’s coffin Olivia hadn’t realised that it would be her picture that would dominate the headlines for the following week.

Yet, she’d got over it. And she had cried, too, in her suite at the house Tony had owned in Bal Harbour. They’d been together too many years for her not to feel some emotion. And she had cared for him once before she’d learned what a liar he could be.

But, ultimately, it wasn’t Tony’s lies that had driven her to seek this seclusion. Her hand probed the slight swell of her stomach and her teeth dug into her lip. She was a liar, too, though there was no one now to accuse her of being a hypocrite. The guilt she had she shared with no one but herself.

And for weeks after Tony’s death she hadn’t allowed herself to think about what had happened the night he’d died. She’d been kept too busy sorting out his affairs to pay any attention to herself. Which was good. When her mind was busy, she could put the past behind her. She could pretend that she hadn’t sacrificed her self-respect.

Avoiding Christian Rodrigues had been harder. The man who had been her husband’s deputy, and with whom he had shared a common heritage, had never been easy to ignore. But he had shamed her; he had made her no better than the husband whose faithlessness she had despised. And now he was behaving as if it mattered to him what happened to her. That he had some right to say how she conducted her life from now on.

It was ludicrous. He didn’t care about her. He’d proved that by seducing her that night. She couldn’t bear to be around him knowing how he felt about her. She was pretty sure he despised himself for allowing it to happen.

She knew that he’d felt sorry for her. She was too old, after all; too unglamorous to attract a man like him. Christian was like Tony. He was ambitious as well as clever. When he chose a wife, she’d have status as well as beauty.

It was when she’d discovered she was expecting Christian’s baby that she’d realised she had to get away. With Luis in college in San Francisco, there was nothing to stop her from leaving Miami. San Gimeno had seemed the perfect destination, and escaping here had been easier than she’d thought.

For once, she’d appreciated the advantages that money had given her. Although much of his estate was in trust until Luis’s twenty-first birthday, Tony had left her well provided for. Of the six properties he’d owned around the world, two of them—the mansion in Bal Harbour and an apartment in Miami—now belonged to Olivia. And with a trust fund that would pay her something in the region of two million dollars a year, she need never worry about security again.

Olivia had her own plans, however. As soon as—well, as soon as she returned to the States she intended to donate much of her inheritance to her favourite charities. She would keep enough for her and her baby to live on. But she had no desire for her child to know the hollow existence Luis had endured for so many years.

Nevertheless, she’d been grateful for the luxury of hiring a private jet to bring her to the island. She wanted no one to know where she was until her baby was born. She didn’t want to hurt Luis, and she would miss his regular phone calls, but Christian must never know what he’d done.

One of the smaller islands in the Bahamas group, San Gimeno had been left virtually untouched by the tourist boom. There were few hotels to speak of and its economy depended on its agriculture and fishing industries. It was the perfect retreat and although she’d only been here a couple of months, she loved it already.

Leaving the veranda where she’d been sitting enjoying the view, Olivia trod across the grass to the palm-fringed dunes that edged the beach. The turf was coarse beneath her feet, but she was getting used to going barefoot. It gave her a sense of freedom and she liked it.

It was so unlike the life she’d led as the wife of one of Florida’s richest men. She couldn’t imagine Tony appreciating the sight of his wife wearing a simple cropped vest and denim shorts. It had been important to him to feel proud of her, and she’d got used to doing and wearing what he said.

But Tony was dead and for the first time since she was twenty-two she was her own woman. An independent being, with no one to please except herself. It was a tantalising thought. Yet she couldn’t deny a shiver of—what? Anticipation? Apprehension? She wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t felt some anxiety about the future.

Once again, an image of Christian Rodrigues filled her thoughts and her breath caught painfully in her throat. She had no doubt that—as she was Tony’s widow—he would be there for her, too, if she needed him. But she had no intention of asking for his help. Or indeed Luis’s, either.

She still hadn’t decided where she was going to live after the baby was born. She might return to Florida or she might stay here. She might even go back to England. It would depend what she intended to do with the rest of her life. Whether the tentative ideas she had for earning her own living might bear any fruit.

The sun was still hot upon her shoulders, and Olivia shifted restlessly. She was used to the heat. Florida could be unbearably hot and the humidity there was much greater than it was here. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to risk developing a fever. She had to stay well and rested. With a sigh of regret she turned back towards the villa.

And saw her maid Susannah standing waiting for her at the top of the veranda steps.

Immediately, Olivia felt a twinge of anxiety. She didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she and the West Indian woman were close friends. But there was a rapport between them that Olivia had sensed as soon as she’d met her, and, recognising the agitation in the woman’s dark-skinned face now, she couldn’t help the sudden quiver in her stomach.

‘Is something wrong?’ she called, quickening her step, and Susannah moved aside to allow her to step up onto the veranda.

‘Um—no, ma’am,’ she said, but her tone was hardly convincing. Her hands twisted together at her waist. ‘You got a phone call, Mrs Mora. From the States. I wasn’t sure you’d want to take it.’

Olivia’s jaw dropped. ‘A phone call?’ she echoed, her voice hardly louder than a whisper. Susannah knew that no one else knew she was here. Or rather, Olivia had believed they didn’t, she amended tensely. ‘I—who is it?’

The housekeeper viewed her sympathetically. ‘I think he said his name was Roderick or Rodrigo. Do you want me to tell him you’re not here?’

Olivia’s nails dug into her palms. Not Roderick or Rodrigo, she guessed. ‘Could it have been Rodrigues?’ she queried, hoping she didn’t sound as panicked as she felt, and Susannah nodded with some relief.

‘It could be,’ she said. ‘Do you know him?’

Olivia winced. Did she know Christian? In the biblical sense definitely, she thought, though that was almost laughable. Oh, God, she should have known she’d escaped too easily. She should have realised that Christian would track her down.

‘I can find out what he wants?’ offered Susannah, clearly a little concerned at Olivia’s manner. In the eight weeks since she’d come to work for her, there had been no phone calls from the United States or anywhere else.

Olivia was tempted. The idea of letting Susannah deal with the call was appealing. She didn’t have to explain herself to Christian. He wasn’t Tony. He wasn’t even a friend, she thought tensely. He had no right to hound her like this.

But then common sense reasserted itself. Did she want him to think she was afraid of him? Afraid to speak to him?

No!

‘It’s—all right, Susannah,’ she managed to say now, reinforcing her words with a rueful smile. ‘It’s just a business associate of my late husband’s.’ Yeah, right.

‘If you’re sure?’

Susannah still looked doubtful and Olivia was warmed by the concern she could see in the other woman’s face. ‘I’m sure,’ she said, taking a deep breath before stepping into the light and airy living room of the villa. ‘Perhaps you could get me a glass of iced tea? I’m very thirsty.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Susannah turned into the long passageway that ran from front to back of the sprawling residence while Olivia reluctantly approached the phone. It was lying on its side on an end table beside one of the three oatmeal leather sofas that formed a three-sided square before the flower-filled fireplace. With the windows open, the scent of blooms drifted irresistibly to Olivia’s nostrils. She took another steadying breath before picking up the receiver.

‘Yes?’ she said, feigning ignorance. ‘Who is this?’

‘It’s Christian Rodrigues,’ he responded shortly, as if she knew any number of men with the same last name. ‘Hello, Olivia. How are you?’

Olivia’s teeth clenched. Did he expect her to answer him? Dammit, what the hell was he doing calling her here?

‘What do you want, Christian?’ she asked coldly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of humouring him. And then, because she couldn’t resist asking, ‘How did you know where to reach me?’

There was silence for a moment and she guessed he hadn’t liked her reply. Then he said, his accent thickening as it always did when he was angry—or aroused, ‘Oh, por favor, Olivia. Credit me with a little intelligence.’

Olivia’s nails dug into the soft leather arm of the sofa as she sank down onto its cushions. ‘You knew where I was,’ she said, the inflection a statement, not a question, and he sighed.

‘You are Antonio Mora’s widow, Olivia,’ he said flatly. ‘A wealthy woman in her own right. I owe it to Tony to look out for you. What kind of a man would I be if I betrayed his trust?’

Olivia’s lips tightened. ‘You tell me.’

Another silence, this time more hostile than the last, and she knew she had touched a nerve. Then, ‘This is not the time to discuss the past, Olivia,’ he told her harshly. And she didn’t have to see his face to know he was angry now. ‘But Tony is dead and, whether you like it or not, you are vulnerable. It is my responsibility to ensure that you are not disturbed in any way.’

‘Except by you.’

She heard his sudden intake of breath and knew a moment’s fear that she had gone too far. Christian had been a good friend to Tony but he would make a bad enemy. For her own sake—and for the sake of her child—she had to make him understand that she didn’t need his help.

But how?

Taking another deep breath, she plunged into an impromptu explanation. ‘Look, I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful, Christian, but you have to understand I was hoping for some privacy here. When—when Tony died, I didn’t seem to have a minute to myself. Perhaps I was naïve in thinking I could get away without telling anyone where I was going. But I hope this doesn’t mean I have to report to you every time I want to—want to—’

The words ‘take a leak’ seemed most appropriate, but this time she bit her tongue before she offended him again. Somehow, she had to convince him that she was all right, that she needed nothing from him. If she could just keep her head, he would soon realise he was wasting his time with her.

‘I do not expect you to report to me at all, Olivia,’ he said now, almost grimly, and her heart sank at the thought that perhaps he wasn’t going to be so easy to dismiss after all. ‘But it would have been a courtesy to leave your forwarding address with my secretary.’

Not likely! Olivia’s mouth tightened. She refused to give that promiscuous bitch the time of day. Dolores Samuels had been trying to get her claws into Christian ever since Tony had blown her off a year ago. He must know that. Or had he already availed himself of her far-too-obvious allure?

The idea should not have been so distasteful to her and to cover herself, she muttered, ‘Perhaps I should.’ But she resented his assumption that she owed him any explanations. Dammit, he wasn’t her husband. She owed him nothing at all.

‘I’m sorry if you feel I have overstepped my position, Olivia,’ he declared into the silence that had followed her reluctant submission. ‘But, in the circumstances, it was—unavoidable.’

Unavoidable? Olivia stiffened. Was she missing something here? Surely he couldn’t have found out about— But, no. That was impossible. She’d told no one she was seeing a doctor and a patient’s records were confidential, weren’t they?

She shook her head. She was being paranoid. She’d done nothing to arouse anyone’s suspicions, least of all his. Whatever he wanted, it had to be something to do with Tony’s estate. But why hadn’t he contacted Luis? Was the power Tony had given him not enough?

‘I don’t understand,’ she said now, adopting an aloof tone. ‘What is—was—unavoidable?’

‘Luis is in hospital in San Francisco,’ replied Christian without preamble, and Olivia was glad she was sitting down when he threw that at her.

‘In hospital?’ she echoed weakly, her hand clammy on the receiver. ‘Oh, God, what’s happened? Is he ill?’

‘Not ill, no,’ responded Christian swiftly, and she guessed he wasn’t totally insensitive to her feelings.

‘His car ploughed into a wall. Luis was driving, naturally. He has a fractured pelvis, bruises, concussion…’ he paused ‘…and initially a suspected broken neck.’

The whimper of pain Olivia gave was audible to him and she heard Christian utter a frustrated imprecation. Then, almost savagely, he said, ‘He is not dying, Olivia. His spine was bruised, that is all. There is no fracture. With time—and the skill of his doctors—he should recover completely.’

Olivia swallowed. ‘You’re sure of that?’

‘As sure as I can be.’ Christian expelled a sharp breath. ‘I am not an expert, Olivia. But my understanding is that your precious boy will soon be as good as new.’

Olivia stiffened. ‘You needn’t be sarcastic, Christian. I realise that both you and Tony were born with balance sheets clutched in your power-hungry little hands. But Luis isn’t like that. He realises there’s more to life than money.’

‘Vale.’ The ice in Christian’s voice was almost palpable. ‘I suppose that is why he was only driving a Porsche Turbo instead of the GT?’

Olivia pressed her lips together. ‘Just tell me where he is,’ she said coldly. ‘I want to go and see him.’

‘There is no need.’

‘What do you mean, there is no need?’ Olivia was infuriated, her earlier panic giving way to indignation at his words. ‘Which hospital was he taken to? You might as well tell me. Because if you don’t, I will find out—’

‘Cool it, will you?’ Christian’s tone was flat now.

Olivia wished she didn’t feel so helpless. ‘You can’t stop me seeing him, Christian.’

‘God!’ His exclamation was fervent. ‘I am not trying to stop you from seeing him, Olivia. But there’s no need for you to think about flying out to San Francisco when I’ve arranged for him to be flown back to Miami in the morning.’

Olivia gasped. ‘You’ve what?’ She couldn’t believe it.

‘I think you heard me, Olivia.’

‘But—’ She struggled for words. ‘You had no right to do that.’

‘No?’

‘No,’ she spluttered. ‘It’s too soon for him to be moved. You said he has a fractured pelvis. He probably has whiplash. And what about the concussion—?’

‘The mild concussion?’ he inquired evenly and she wanted to scream. ‘He will survive.’

‘I still think you shouldn’t have made the decision to move him,’ she declared hotly. ‘Just because you can’t be bothered to take time off from your personal schedule to go and see him, you’re prepared to risk possible complications to satisfy your own ends.’

‘That’s your opinion, is it?’

He was breathing heavily now. She could hear it, and for a moment she was tempted to say nothing more. But she couldn’t let him intimidate her and, squaring her shoulders, she said, ‘Yes, it is.’ She paused and then added defensively, ‘And whatever his faults, I’m sure it would have been Tony’s opinion as well.’

‘You think?’ He blew out a breath and, although she couldn’t see him, she sensed the anger that was simmering just beneath his iron control. ‘Well, querida, for your information, Luis’s doctor has assessed his condition and sanctioned the transfer to the hospital in Miami. An air ambulance, fully equipped with both doctors and nursing staff, will fly him from the local airport in San Francisco. Subsequently, he will be airlifted to the Sacred Heart. Does that reassure you?’

Olivia moistened her lips. ‘I—I suppose it has to.’

‘Good.’ But he was sardonic. ‘Then that only leaves us with the question of when you will come to Miami to visit him.’

Oh, God! Olivia sank back against the soft leather. She’d known it was coming, of course, but it sounded so much more ominous when he said it.

‘You—you say Luis is being flown back to Miami tomorrow?’ she asked, prevaricating, and Christian agreed.

‘Naturally, with the time change, you would be advised not to try and see him until the day after,’ he observed drily. ‘I suggest I send a helicopter for you on Thursday morning. If you can be ready for, say, ten-thirty, we could—’

‘I don’t need your help to get back to Miami,’ Olivia interrupted him swiftly. The idea of Christian coming here, invading her sanctuary, didn’t bear thinking about. ‘I can get a flight myself.’

‘When?’ Christian sounded impatient. ‘Come on, Olivia, we both know that you’ve got to get from San Gimeno to New Providence before you can even think about taking a flight.’

‘There are such things as charter flights,’ she retorted, desperate to avoid his intervention. ‘I do have the money to hire a pilot, you know.’

‘But why should you want to do that when the Mora Corporation owns a couple of choppers?’ demanded Christian infuriatedly. ‘If what you’re really saying is that you don’t want me to escort you, then okay. I’ll have Mike Delano make the trip.’

‘There’s no need for you to send anyone,’ she persisted, but now she had gone too far.

‘Forget it, Olivia,’ he said harshly. ‘So far I’ve managed to keep this under wraps, but once you start hiring a plane to get back here, someone’s going to find out. I accept that you don’t like me. Dios, I’ve known that for the past eight years. And yes, what happened the night Tony died was unforgivable and you’re not going to let me forget it. Well, okay. I can live with that. I won’t insult you by saying you wanted it as much as me. But this—this is something different. We’ve got to protect Luis from the kind of publicity this is going to create. After what happened when his father died, I’d have thought you’d have wanted that, too. Luis is the only son you’ve got.’

For a heart-stopping moment Olivia wondered what he’d do if he found out why she’d run away. Convincing Luis that she’d needed some time alone to get over his father’s death had been easy. Convincing Christian of the same was something else.

His next words reassured her, however. ‘Look, Olivia,’ he said. ‘I’m not asking you to do this for me.’

I know. She quivered.

‘But Luis will expect to see you,’ he continued. ‘He has talked of little else since he recovered consciousness.’

Olivia expelled an unsteady breath. ‘Well, naturally I want to see him, too—’

‘So do the sensible thing and let me send the helicopter for you.’

Olivia hesitated. ‘On Thursday morning?’

‘Yes.’

She shook her head. In his eyes, it seemed so simple. And wasn’t she running the risk of arousing his suspicions by persisting in arguing with him now?

And yet…

‘I’ll think about it,’ she said at last, knowing he would take that as an acceptance, and rang off before he could ask her anything else.

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS raining.

It didn’t often rain in Miami, but when it did it was usually a downpour. The present downpour was courtesy of Hurricane Flora, which had been downgraded to a tropical storm before it reached the mainland. It was probably the last hurricane of the season, but that didn’t make it any the less unpleasant. Nor did it improve Christian Rodrigues’s temper as he strode from his car into the Mora Building, brushing the drops of water from the shoulders of his fine wool Italian suit.

Thankfully, the hurricane hadn’t touched the Bahamas. It had come in over the Gulf of Mexico and dissipated itself in the islands that bordered the gulf coast. There was no reason why Olivia’s flight should have been delayed or for her to make any excuse for not flying. Yet the helicopter had come back without her and, although he’d tried to reach her by other means, she apparently wasn’t answering her phone.

He strode across the marble lobby, taking little notice of its arching roof or the exquisite examples of glass and artwork that gave the space its elegant appeal. A dozen journals had praised its architectural brilliance, but on this dull Thursday morning Christian was in little mood to appreciate his surroundings.

Or his own success in working there. Antonio Mora had been his father’s cousin and when he’d invited the much younger Christian to come and work for him it had been a marvellous opportunity. Christian had been in college then, working for a law degree and holding down two part-time jobs just to pay for his tuition fees. His parents were dead, killed in a landslide while they were visiting his grandparents in Venezuela, and until Antonio—Tony—came on the scene, Christian had never thought of contacting his distant relative.

But Tony had just heard that his cousin was dead and he wanted to help. He’d offered to pay Christian’s tuition fees himself if Christian agreed to come and work for him after he’d graduated. He wanted to do something in his cousin’s memory, he’d said, and although the boy had bought it at the time, Christian had learned better since.

Tony had done nothing for nothing. Despite the fact that he’d rarely visited his cousin and his family, he’d apparently been impressed by Christian’s intelligence. Tony had needed someone he could trust, someone he could rely on. Family had meant a lot to Tony, and until Luis was older he’d wanted someone of his own blood to be his second-in-command.

Maybe, too, he’d already realised that Luis wasn’t like him. He was more like his mother—or rather his stepmother, Christian had soon decided. The cool and lovely Mrs Mora, who had never liked him; who had always regarded him with a scarcely veiled contempt, as if she thought she knew exactly why he’d accepted Tony’s offer and it had nothing to do with either gratitude or family ties.

That she was wrong, but that there was nothing he could do to change her mind, was something he’d learned to live with. Besides, Olivia Mora had had a lot more to contend with than his annoying presence. Within a few weeks of coming to work for Tony he’d discovered that her marriage was as hollow as her husband’s promises. Tony Mora had been congenitally incapable of being faithful to any woman. If Olivia was suspicious of Christian it was probably because she’d learned to be suspicious of all men.

He’d also known that however careless Tony had been of his vows, he would have killed anyone who touched his Olivia. And Christian had more sense than to look her way. Besides which, despite Tony’s infidelities, she had seemed contented enough. Luis appeared to satisfy all her needs.

Or he had, brooded Christian grimly, affording the smiling receptionists, who occupied the huge slab of plate glass that passed for a desk in the lobby, only a grunted greeting. So why the hell hadn’t she been on board the helicopter when it had landed at the airport?

Despite her unwillingness to accept his help, he’d gone to meet her himself, deciding it would be better if they got any unpleasantness over with before they got to the hospital. He didn’t think she’d say anything in front of Luis. But the boy might detect the animosity between them and wonder why.

Christian scowled. Instead of that the helicopter had come back empty. The pilot had offered the excuse that she hadn’t turned up at the small airstrip. He hadn’t been able to wait around indefinitely. He had other commitments that day.

But why wasn’t she answering her phone? Christian stepped into one of the half dozen elevators that gave access to the upper floors of the building and punched the button for the forty-second floor with unnecessary force. She must have known he’d try to get in touch with her when she wasn’t on board the helicopter. Dammit, what the hell was going on?

His secretary, Dolores Samuels, met him in the foyer of his suite of offices and he guessed his presence in the building had been duly reported. Small and dark and fiery, Dolores showed her Latin heritage in every excitable movement she made, and her hands fluttered expressively when she saw his glowering face.

‘She was not on the flight?’ she asked, her dark eyes wide and knowing, and Christian stared at her.

‘How do you know that?’

Dolores’s tongue circled her lips in deliberate invitation. ‘Because Mike Delano called from the hospital,’ she replied slyly. ‘Mrs Mora arrived there only minutes after you left for the airport.’

Christian’s jaw compressed. ‘So why didn’t you ring me?’ he demanded, turning back towards the corridor outside his room with obvious intent. ‘It would have saved me the trip.’

‘Because she told Mike not to tell you,’ Dolores protested, her expression turning from artful teasing to innocent appeal in a moment. ‘You know what they say?’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Don’t kill the messenger. I am only telling you what Mike Delano said when he phoned a few minutes ago.’

‘Since when does Mike Delano take his orders from Mrs Mora?’ retorted Christian grimly. ‘And why didn’t he ring me instead of you?’

‘I expect because he knew you would turn around and go straight to the hospital,’ exclaimed Dolores, tugging beguilingly on a strand of curling dark hair.

‘And she is Luis’s mother. She didn’t want you to interfere.’

‘She’s his stepmother,’ Christian corrected her shortly, and Dolores’s eyes grew even wider at his aggravated tone.

‘Does it matter?’ she asked. ‘She is old. And she is Tony’s widow. I expect Mike was too intimidated to ignore what she said.’

Christian didn’t know why he felt so infuriated by her argument, but he did. ‘Olivia is not old,’ he said. ‘She is—what? Thirty-seven? Thirty-eight? That is not old, Dolores.’

‘It is to me,’ retorted the girl sulkily. ‘And to you, too, no esta?’ She paused, regarding him curiously.

‘Do not tell me you are interested in the frozen widow.’

Christian realised this was becoming too personal. Dolores had tried to engage him in conversations like this before and he had always put her off. She was too inquisitive, too provocative, and she was a gossip. And since the break-up of the affair she’d had with Tony she’d renewed her pursuit of her present boss with an increasingly flagrant intent.

‘I do not think Mrs Mora would appreciate your assessment of her character,’ he replied obliquely. He had no intention of discussing his association with his late cousin’s wife with her. ‘I suggest you confine yourself to business matters in the future. You are a good assistant, Dolores, but that is the only reason I persuaded Tony to let you keep your job.’

Dolores’s full lips pursed. ‘If you say so,’ she remarked insolently, turning back into her office, and it was only because he was in a hurry to get to the hospital that Christian chose not to challenge her again. But one day he would have to deal with her. He wanted no one to speculate about his efforts on her behalf.

With a gesture of frustration, he pulled out his cell-phone and ordered his chauffeur to bring his car up from the basement garage. Then he walked swiftly back to the elevator.

Sacred Heart Hospital was situated in downtown Miami and long before he reached the quiet enclave off Flagler Street, Christian’s car was snarled in traffic. Perhaps he should have arranged for Luis to be transferred to a hospital north of Miami, he reflected irritably, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He’d chosen to dismiss his chauffeur and drive himself and now, with the rain sluicing against the windscreen and the fumes from countless other vehicles invading the car, he was feeling decidedly put-upon.

Why the hell had Olivia chosen to make her own way to the hospital? he wondered, returning to his earlier gripe. Was it her way of proving she wanted nothing more to do with him? Or was it badness that had prompted her to thwart his plans?

His jaw hardened. She was going to have to deal with him sooner or later. He was one of the executors of the trust that was going to keep her in luxury for the rest of her life. If she didn’t like it, tough. It wasn’t her decision. However she felt about it, that was the way it was going to be.

It was early afternoon by the time he entered the hospital’s car park. It was full, but after a brief altercation with the uniformed security guard, which entailed a hundred-dollar bill changing hands, he was allowed to park in a space designated for staff members only. Then, after getting another soaking crossing to the entrance, he at last reached the lobby of the brightly lit establishment.

He had to run the gamut of more security checks before being allowed to take the stairs to the second floor. There were elevators, but they were all busy, and he was too impatient to wait while wheelchair-bound patients and porters wheeling gurneys took precedence. Besides, he expunged some of his frustrated energies in the act, reaching Luis’s door before he had himself totally in control.

Olivia was sitting beside her stepson’s bed, her hand resting lightly on his where it lay upon the coverlet. She was leaning towards him, speaking softly, when Christian opened the door, and the intimacy of the scene he was interrupting was not lost on him.

There was no sign of Mike Delano, but that didn’t surprise him. If Olivia had prevailed on Mike not to call his employer, the man was hardly likely to be hanging around here. He was probably downstairs in the coffee shop, drowning his sorrows in a double-cream cappuccino.

Christian would speak to him later, but for now he had to contend with a pair of clear grey eyes regarding him with undisguised irritation. Olivia was annoyed; that much was obvious. But he was bloody annoyed, too, and he refused to be daunted by the cool resentment in her gaze.

‘Hi,’ he said crisply, his eyes moving past her to the young man in the bed. ‘Luis.’ His thin lips formed a smile. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m okay.’ Luis managed to return his greeting but his face was still drawn with pain. He looked very pale, Christian thought, his tanned skin bleached almost to the colour of the sheet behind his head. ‘Thanks.’

‘Good.’ Christian came to stand across the bed from Olivia, forcing himself to concentrate on its occupant and not on her. ‘No after-effects of the flight?’

‘Just a bit of jet lag, I guess,’ said Luis bravely. ‘I appreciate you coming with me, Chris. It was good to see a friendly face among all those white coats.’

Christian’s smile flattened, but he was aware that Olivia flicked a glance at him before turning to her stepson again. ‘You didn’t tell me—Christian had escorted you back to Miami, Luis,’ she said, her normally husky voice sharpening with confusion. ‘You know I would have flown back with you myself if I’d known what was going on.’

Once again she afforded Christian a resentful look, but before he could speak Luis intervened. ‘Oh—Chris flew up the day after I had the accident,’ he explained, and Christian saw the way the hand lying in Olivia’s lap balled into a fist at his words. ‘He stayed with me until the doctors said he could arrange the transfer. That was how we flew back together.’

Olivia looked as if she was about to object, but this time Christian beat her to it. ‘I phoned you from San Francisco,’ he explained, meeting her taut gaze with some satisfaction. ‘I thought you realised that.’

He knew she hadn’t, and she knew he was lying, too, judging by the angry tightening of her soft mouth. Christian scowled. Now where had that come from? Her mouth was anything but soft at this moment. It was fairly trembling with the indignation she was trying so hard to suppress.

But, ‘No,’ was all she said in answer, before returning her attention to the young man in the bed. ‘Well, I’m glad Christian was there to look after you. I expect he realised how worried I’d have been if I’d known what was going on.’

‘Yeah.’ Luis turned grateful eyes to the older man again. ‘Chris’s been great. He hasn’t even moaned about me wrecking the Porsche.’

‘That’s not to say I won’t,’ put in Christian drily.

‘Especially if it turns out you were driving stoned out of your skull. I think you need a safer motor. I’m thinking about buying you a bug next time.’

‘If I ever drive again,’ muttered Luis, tears suddenly forming at the corners of his eyes, and Olivia made a sound of impatience as she gripped the boy’s hand with both of hers.

‘Of course you’ll drive again,’ she said, using her thumb to smear his tears away. She gave Christian another speaking appraisal. ‘Don’t you agree?’

‘Sure.’ Christian agreed with her. He brushed a hand across the boy’s shoulder and gave him a rueful smile. ‘So long as you do what you’re told and don’t give the doctors any grief,’ he added gently. ‘I know you feel pretty desperate now, kid, but it’s amazing what a few weeks’ bed-rest can achieve.’

‘You think?’

Luis sniffed and Christian was half relieved when he heard the door open behind him and a white-clad nurse entered the room. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now,’ she said, softening her words with a warm smile for her patient. ‘It’s time for Luis’s evaluation. Dr Hoffman is waiting for him. I’m going to wheel him along to the examination suite, okay?’

Olivia got immediately to her feet and Christian was instantly made aware of how tall and slender she was. Her hair, which was a shade between honey and silver, was secured at her nape with a leather thong, and the gold loops in her ears drew his attention to the delicate curve of her neck.

But he also noticed that although she was wearing a cream, ruched silk shirt, that complemented her slight tan and was only loosely tucked into her waistband, she was wearing it with low-waisted jeans and not one of the designer suits he was used to seeing. A small change, perhaps, but a significant one, and he wondered if her attitude towards him was all part of some determined desire to show she could look after herself.

Whatever, she looked coolly elegant and Christian wished she weren’t regarding him with such an expression of contempt. All right, he knew he’d made a mistake; a big one. But if she hadn’t been so willing, he would never have let it go so far.

A grimness tugged at the corner of his mouth and it was a struggle to smile at Luis as if nothing were wrong. ‘See you later, kid,’ he said as an orderly came to assist the nurse in moving the boy’s bed. ‘And I’ll get something organised, like I promised. You’re not going to have to stay in here any longer than is absolutely necessary, right?’

‘Right,’ murmured Luis, but his face was despondent, and Olivia moved forward to take his hand again.

‘Just know I’m here for you,’ she said, bending to bestow a butterfly kiss on his temple. ‘Don’t worry, darling. You’re going to be okay.’

Olivia followed Luis’s bed out into the corridor and stood watching as the nursing staff wheeled it away. Then, as if realising she couldn’t ignore him indefinitely, she cast a brief look at Christian and said, ‘Excuse me. I’m going to go and get a coffee.’

Christian jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, resisting the urge to grab her by the shoulders and hold her where she was. Did she honestly think she could get away with what she’d done so lightly? Had she any conception of how bloody angry he was?

Controlling his temper, he said, ‘I’ll join you,’ and although he was sure she wanted to object, a slight shrug of her shoulders was all the response he got.

She made for the bank of lifts and Christian had to stifle his frustration and stay with her. And, even though an influx of staff and visitors and patients made the downward trip an ordeal, they eventually reached the basement and the hospital cafeteria.

Thankfully, it wasn’t busy. Nor was there any sign of Mike Delano, which was a relief. At this hour of the afternoon, the lunch crowd had gone and the evening rush hadn’t started. Nevertheless, the smells emanating from the kitchens reminded Christian that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Deciding he owed Olivia no favours, he ordered a cheeseburger and fries to go with his coffee.

‘What can I get you?’ he asked, beating her to the self-service counter, and she gave him a frosty look.

‘Just coffee,’ she said, clearly wishing she didn’t have to accept his hospitality, and Christian nodded his acknowledgement as she went to find a table.

By the time he carried his tray across to where she was waiting, Olivia’s impatience was obvious in the way she was shifting restlessly in her seat. She’d chosen a table in the centre of the room, probably to deter him from thinking this was in any way a friendly encounter, but her expression changed when she saw what was on the tray.

Christian wasn’t sure, but he thought she paled slightly, and her breathing quickened, drawing his attention to the dusky hollow visible in the open neckline of her shirt. Silken ties hung loose and she clutched them with nervous fingers. Pale fabric lay against her golden skin, a sensuous invitation he couldn’t ignore.

‘Is something wrong?’ he queried, taking the chair opposite so she couldn’t accuse him of crowding her. He unloaded the plate containing the burger and fries onto the table. ‘Are you sure I can’t get you something to eat?’

‘No.’

She waved a hand in front of her face and he got the impression she was trying to waft the smell of the food away. Well, it wasn’t his fault if she felt sick with hunger, he assured himself. She probably hadn’t had any lunch, either, and there was no sense in starving herself to spite him.

Shrugging, he picked up his burger and took a generous bite. It was years since he’d lived on junk food but the juicy flavour of the meat reminded him irresistibly of his student days. And of the first time he’d seen his cousin’s wife…

Realising she was not about to speak to him—indeed, had half turned away from him, as if watching him eat his food was actually distasteful to her—Christian emptied his mouth.

‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me why you rejected the use of the helicopter,’ he said mildly. ‘Or if not that, then at least explain why you couldn’t have called and saved the pilot a useless trip.’

Olivia blew out a breath and, without looking at him, she said, ‘I knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer.’ She swallowed a little convulsively and then added faintly, ‘I’d already tried to tell you I didn’t need your help.’

Christian felt angry enough to swear in his own language. It annoyed him like hell that Olivia could make him lose his temper like this. ‘The helicopter is not mine. It belongs to the Mora Corporation. You are just as entitled to use it as me.’

‘Does it matter?’

Once again, Olivia wafted her hand across her face and Christian noticed the film of sweat on her upper lip. She hadn’t even touched her coffee. For pity’s sake, he thought irritably, couldn’t they even have a civil conversation?

‘It matters,’ he said now, pushing the burger aside, suddenly as uninterested in the food as she was.

‘Look, are we going to have to spend the next God knows how many years fencing around what’s really going on here? You don’t like me, Olivia. Well, here’s a newsflash, I’m not madly keen on you, either. But we’ve got to work together. Can’t we at least call a truce?’

Olivia’s gaze turned to him, but where he’d expected to see hostility he glimpsed only panic. ‘Where are the rest rooms?’ she choked, a hand over her mouth almost making her words indistinguishable, and as he cast around for an answer she left the table and rushed headlong out of the restaurant.

He followed her, of course, but he was too late to be of any help. By the time he reached the corridor, she was disappearing through the door marked ‘Women’. He expelled a frustrated sigh and was forced to kick his heels outside until she came out.

It seemed an age before she reappeared again, although he guessed it had only been a few minutes. She emerged looking even paler, her eyes pink-rimmed and a visible redness around her mouth.

She’d been sick. That much was obvious to him. Dammit, he hadn’t realised Luis’s accident would upset her so much. He straightened away from the wall where he’d been lounging and regarded her with some concern. ‘Are you all right?’

Clearly, she wasn’t, but she made a brave effort to pretend she was. ‘It must have been something I ate,’ she said, making no attempt to disguise what had happened. ‘And seeing Luis.’ She rubbed her lips again with the tissue she’d brought out of the rest room with her. ‘I suppose I didn’t expect all that bracing around his neck.’

‘I’m told they have to immobilise the neck to prevent further injury,’ said Christian gently. ‘It’s just a cervical collar. As I told you, his spine isn’t injured.’

‘All the same—’

‘Olivia, he’s not paralysed. He feels bad, I grant you. I dare say his hip isn’t very comfortable right now. But he will get better.’ He grimaced. ‘The doctors in San Francisco were very thorough. They seemed to think he’d been very lucky.’

Olivia bit her lip. ‘He says he doesn’t have a lot of pain,’ she murmured and Christian nodded.

‘And he hasn’t needed any surgery at all.’

‘Any surgery?’

She was staring at him with wide eyes and Christian cursed himself for mentioning it. ‘There can be internal injuries after a car crash,’ he told her unwillingly. ‘But Luis has no internal bleeding at all.’

‘Thank God.’

‘Indeed. A few weeks’ rest and he’ll be back on his feet, as good as new.’

‘You think so?’

Christian nodded. ‘I do.’

She shook her head. ‘Dear God, what if—?’

‘Olivia, we can all torture ourselves with “what-ifs”,’ he declared flatly. ‘What if he hadn’t been driving so fast? What if he hadn’t been on that particular stretch of highway at all? He did, he was, and this has happened. It’s up to us to make it as easy as possible for him to get over it. Right?’

She sniffed and then said stiffly, ‘Us?’

‘Yeah.’ Christian glanced back into the cafeteria. ‘Look, why don’t we go and sit down again?’

‘Not in there.’ Her response was urgent, and she turned her face away from the restaurant. ‘I—perhaps we should go back upstairs. Luis may be back from his examination by now.’

‘And he may not,’ retorted Christian shortly.

‘Come on, Olivia. We’ve got to talk about this so it might as well be now.’ He chewed on his lip for a moment, and then added, ‘Why don’t we go and find a lounge? There are bound to be waiting rooms for visitors somewhere.’

She hesitated for a moment and he thought she was going to balk again, but she didn’t. ‘All right,’ she agreed at last. ‘You can tell me how the accident happened, and how you came to be the one they got in touch with.’

Christian’s mouth flattened. Yeah, right, he thought grimly. That was the most important thing as far as she was concerned. What had happened months before the accident and how they were going to deal with that in the future was not in question. She was only talking to him at all because she really didn’t have a choice.

They took the stairs instead of using the elevator. Evidently, Olivia had no desire to be confined in an airless cubicle where the smell of antiseptic and medication were all-pervading. In her present state, she would have probably preferred to walk outdoors, but that wasn’t possible. Even without the rain, the streets beyond the parking lot that surrounded the hospital wouldn’t offer them the privacy they sought.

They found a visitors’ lounge on the second floor, just down the corridor from Luis’s room. To Christian’s relief, it was empty, though he guessed Olivia didn’t share his enthusiasm as she surveyed the deserted chairs and sofas.

But there was a coffee machine in one corner and Christian got them both plastic cups of the steaming beverage before he sat down. Olivia, he saw, had chosen an armchair and he took the sofa opposite. He deposited the cups on the table nearby before spreading his legs and letting his hands hang loosely between his thighs.

He couldn’t help but notice that she avoided looking at him. But she gave him a brief nod of thanks for the coffee before concentrating on the contents of the cup. With it cradled between her palms, she was successfully shutting him off from whatever thoughts she was entertaining. He guessed she wasn’t only thinking about her stepson.

But he couldn’t ask her that now. ‘Okay,’ he said instead, forcing her to listen to him. ‘The first thing we have to decide is where Luis is going to convalesce when he leaves the hospital.’

That got her attention. The pinkness had left her lids now and long, silvery-grey eyes set between thick curling lashes focussed on his face. ‘Where he’s going to convalesce?’ she echoed. ‘Isn’t that a little premature? We still don’t know how long he’s going to be in the hospital.’

‘Not long,’ said Christian, taking a mouthful of his own coffee. He found it palatable, if a little weak.

‘It’s my experience that patients who are not in need of any surgery are discharged fairly quickly. They’re encouraged to continue their recovery at home.’

‘At home?’ Once again she repeated his words.

‘But—Luis’s apartment is at Berkeley. There’s no one to care for him there.’

‘I know that.’ Christian put down his cup and regarded her intently. ‘How would you feel about opening up the house in Bal Harbour and caring for him there? After all, it was Luis’s home as well until he left for the west coast. I know you chose to leave Miami, but I don’t suppose that’s written in stone.’

CHAPTER THREE

IT IS.

Olivia’s lips parted in dismay. She’d suspected what was coming, of course, but she still wasn’t prepared for the shock she got when he voiced the words. He expected her to look after Luis. To go on being the mother she had been for the past fifteen years. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t. She couldn’t come back to live in Bal Harbour. Not with Christian just a few miles away, able to come and go as often as he pleased.

And what about Luis himself? She’d hoped to have had the baby before she saw him again. It had been a faint hope, she knew, but since he’d gone to college Luis had become much less dependent on her. As she’d assumed no one knew where she was, it hadn’t seemed such a stretch.

‘I—can’t,’ she said now, before sympathy for her stepson and her own thwarted maternal instincts kicked in. She put her coffee cup down before she dropped it. ‘I’d like to help Luis, but—well, coming back to Florida isn’t on my agenda.’

Christian’s dark face showed his angry reaction. Although he was not a handsome man, his strong features did possess a sensual appeal. A sexual appeal, she admitted, trying to avoid that conclusion and failing miserably. But at this moment any sensuality—or sexuality—was absent.

‘What is on your agenda?’ he demanded, and although she was tempted to tell him to mind his own business, she guarded her tongue.

‘I have plans,’ she said vaguely. Plans that did not include spending the next few months evading Christian’s suspicions.

‘What plans?’ he asked at once, as she’d known he would, and she wondered if he realised how arrogant his question was.

Probably, she decided, giving his dark intense features a covert appraisal. Christian always knew exactly what he was doing. From the moment Tony had brought his cousin’s orphaned son into the business, Christian had known precisely where he was going. He’d always intended to be Tony’s successor, and now he was. But he had no right to push family obligations into her face.

A faint twinge of guilt rippled over her. Who was she to talk about family obligations when she had no intention of telling him she was expecting his child? She knew what he’d do if he ever found out about the baby and that was what scared her. He’d expect to play a prominent role in its life.

But the last thing she wanted was another marriage like the one she’d had with Tony. Okay, maybe she’d been naïve in thinking Tony had married her because he loved her, but she had expected some loyalty from him. Instead of which within weeks of her wedding she’d discovered he was still seeing the woman he’d been having an affair with before he’d asked Olivia to marry him. Tony had had no intention of changing his way of life. He’d enjoyed the excitement of the chase too much.

And Christian was like his cousin. He’d no doubt expect his wife to be as pure as the driven snow while he slept with whomever he chose. Olivia had already lost count of the number of girlfriends he’d had since he came to work for Tony. He seemed to have as little respect for her sex as Tony had himself.

Of course, she was flattering herself by thinking that Christian might ask her to marry him. Heavens, she was at least six years older than he was and that was a lot. Just because she was having his baby she should not think he’d consider giving up his freedom for her. Yet, like his cousin, he cared about family. He might be willing to sacrifice his freedom to give his child a name.

Oh, God, if only it had been anyone other than Christian who had brought her the news about Tony. Even now, she found it hard to believe that she’d behaved as she had. She’d been a reckless fool and now she had to deal with it. Which meant, if she wanted to maintain her independence, keeping him from finding out she was having his child.

Realising he was waiting for her answer, she decided to tell him part of the truth and risk his derision. ‘I—I want to write and illustrate children’s books,’ she said quickly, resenting the need to bare her soul to him. ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, but—well, I’ve never had the time before.’

‘No?’ Christian’s dark brows arched quizzically and he gave her a disbelieving look.

‘No.’ She disliked his attitude. ‘No, I haven’t.’

‘I see.’ His lips twisted into a mocking smirk. ‘And you’ve been busy doing—what, exactly?’

‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she retorted, refusing to try and explain her reasons to him.

‘Anyway, those are my plans.’

‘And all these years you’ve been married to Tony, you’ve never found the time to put pen to paper before?’

Olivia’s mouth tightened. ‘Not seriously, no.’

Christian picked up his cup again and took another mouthful of the cooling coffee. But his eyes continued to survey her across the rim of his cup. She felt her pulse quicken, her palms grow damp with apprehension. He was no fool, she thought uneasily, and he must be wondering where she should have suddenly acquired this desire to write.

Nevertheless, while Tony was alive such an activity would have been unthinkable. Despite his own shortcomings, Tony had never allowed her to forget that she was his wife, his possession. He’d given her total freedom with his son, but in all other respects she’d been expected to comply with his wishes. And, for Luis’s sake, she’d stifled her own ambitions, contenting herself with making up stories for the boy and illustrating them in his drawing books.

Christian put down his cup with a measured deliberation and Olivia stiffened instinctively. What now? she wondered, watching as he smoothed long brown fingers over the fine woollen cloth that lovingly encased his thigh. He was wearing one of the Italian-designed suits he generally favoured, its charcoal fabric complementing and enhancing his virile appeal.

His dark features were potently male, too, and she was not unaware of it. Nor was she unaware that the hands that were presently employed in such an apparently innocent activity had once caressed her skin. She remembered how it had felt when he’d peeled her nightgown from her, how hotly sensual his skin had felt against her bare flesh…

‘Lo que sea,’ he said, with a shrug, but she knew it was a measure of his frustration that he’d spoken in his own language. He’d spoken Spanish when he was making love to her, she remembered, the unwilling memory of his hands pushing into her hair, of his mouth playing with hers, of the awareness that had started deep within her abdomen and spread to every tingling nerve in her body, causing her to press her hot palms against her suddenly burning cheeks.

But Christian hadn’t made love to her, she corrected herself fiercely. What they’d shared had been hot and carnal, but love had had nothing to do with it. They’d had sex, pure and simple. Good sex, perhaps; great sex, she admitted honestly. Not that she was any expert. Tony had been the first and only man she’d slept with.

Until Christian…

Why had he done such a thing? she asked herself again, as she’d asked so many times before. Christian didn’t take risks. He was far too astute for that. In all his dealings with the women he had dated, there had never been a paternity suit raised against him. Yet he’d made love to her without taking any precautions. Hadn’t he ever considered that there might be a price to pay for his neglect?

The only solution was that he had been in as much of a state of shock as she was, when a desire to celebrate life had followed the reality of Tony’s death. Or had he needed comfort, too? Someone to cling to? She doubted she would ever know.

She removed her hands from her cheeks and made a play of repositioning her coffee-cup. He’d evidently assumed she was taking some form of birth-control pill. After all, she and Tony hadn’t had any children of their own. He couldn’t know that she and Tony hadn’t slept together for years. Or that she’d discovered Tony had had a vasectomy soon after Luis was born.

Her shoulders moved now in an involuntary gesture. It had been quite a blow when she’d found out. Despite Tony’s unfaithfulness, she had wanted a baby of her own. Some compensation, perhaps, for the hollowness of her existence.

But that was all a long time ago now. She’d got over it and there was no denying that Luis loved her more than the mother who had died at his birth. Yet she also knew it was the reason Tony had gone looking for Christian after his parents were killed in Venezuela. It had reminded him of his own mortality and of how arbitrary death could be.

‘So—will you tell Luis or do you wish me to do it?’ Christian asked abruptly, startling her out of her reverie. ‘He’ll be disappointed, no? But if you have no objections to him staying at the house in Bal Harbour, I will arrange for full-time nursing staff to look after him.’

Olivia stared at him now. Bastard, she thought resentfully. He must know how she’d feel about leaving her stepson to the mercies of people he neither knew nor cared about. But what could she do? She couldn’t come back to Florida. There had to be a way to satisfy his demands without losing her self-respect.

‘Olivia?’

His dark eyes were watching her closely and she very much wanted to avert her own from his penetrating gaze. But to do so would simply reinforce his smug belief that he had the upper hand. And she was damned if she was going to give in without a fight.

‘Let me think about it,’ she said at last, and, although his lashes swept down to hide his expression, she glimpsed the triumph in his face. ‘I’m not promising anything,’ she added, stung into a retort, and he inclined his head.

‘I am sure inspiration would strike you just as successfully in Bal Harbour as in San Gimeno,’ he remarked smoothly, and once again she flinched at his condescending tone.

‘You’re sure of that, are you?’ she countered, arching her brows in imitation of his. ‘Well, that’s some compensation anyway. I’m glad I have your support.’

Christian’s mouth tightened. ‘I do not wish to quarrel with you, Olivia,’ he said. ‘You seem to have the mistaken impression that I am enjoying this. Let me assure you, I am not. But Luis is my cousin’s only child. Naturally, I am concerned that he has the best attention possible.’

‘Why don’t you look after him, then?’

Olivia knew her response was childish but she couldn’t help it. He expected her to sacrifice any plans she’d made for the future. Would he be as willing to do the same? It would certainly put a crimp in his social calendar, she thought, her soft mouth tightening. And, in truth, Christian’s connection to Luis was far closer than hers could ever be.

There was silence for a few moments and then he expelled a long sigh. ‘I assume you are suggesting that I move into the Bal Harbour house, too?’ he queried. ‘You would have no problem with that arrangement?’

Olivia did have a problem with it, but she could hardly say that now. ‘Why should I?’ she asked, deciding to call his bluff, and Christian frowned before going on.

‘So you would be happy to visit him there?’ he persisted and she shrugged.

‘Why not?’

‘Indeed.’ He was thoughtful. ‘So the reason you’ve abandoned your home and taken refuge on some primitive island has nothing to do with what happened between us?’

Olivia was taken aback. ‘I—of course not.’

‘No?’ Christian regarded her between narrowed lids. ‘You are sure about that?’

Olivia struggled to remain calm. He knew nothing, she reminded herself. This was just another attempt to bait her, that was all. ‘San Gimeno is not a primitive island,’ she declared obliquely, avoiding his question. ‘It’s not commercialised, I admit, but that doesn’t mean it lacks the necessary amenities.’

‘I get the feeling you find our situation hard to handle,’ he said softly, just as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘That’s why you turned down my offer of the helicopter, is it not? It is also why you persuaded Mike Delano not to let me know what you were doing. Come on, Olivia, that’s the truth, no?’ He made a derisive sound. ‘Dios, what did you expect me to do? Jump your bones?’

Olivia had heard enough. She stood up. Ignoring him, she turned purposefully towards the door, but before she could reach it Christian’s hand caught her arm.

‘Wait!’

‘Why should I?’

Yet Olivia knew better than to try and get away from him. His fingers were long and narrow, it was true, but they were also immensely strong. No amount of useless struggle on her part would free her until he was ready to let her go.

All the same, it was hard to remain still under his searching appraisal. She was acutely aware that he was breathing heavily now and she guessed her sudden dash for the door had caught him unawares. She doubted he appreciated having to reason with her, either, and his expression mirrored the ambivalence he felt.

Even so, when he spoke it was an apology. ‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ he said, his nostrils flaring with the effort to control the anger that was riding him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Are you?’

Her answer was hardly original, but in the circumstances it was impossible to think of anything unique. Her treacherous senses were registering other things, like his heat and his nearness, and the predatory magnetism that exuded from his pores.

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