His plan is merciless revenge

His method is sizzling pleasure!

Ruthless tycoon Basilio Perez, famed for his familial loyalty, has a new target in sight. Miranda Smith is poised to bring the Perez name into disrepute—she must be stopped! But when he meets Miranda, Basilio is captivated by her shy appeal. To uncover Randi’s secrets, his plan for revenge becomes one of lingering, passionate seduction...that tests his iron control to the limit!

A classic tale of passion, revenge and redemption...

USA TODAY bestseller LUCY MONROE lives and writes in the gorgeous Pacific Northwest. While she loves her home, she delights in experiencing different cultures and places on her travels, which she happily shares with her readers through her books. A lifelong devotee of the romance genre, Lucy can’t imagine a more fulfilling career than writing the stories in her head for her readers to enjoy.

Also by Lucy Monroe

Heart of a Desert Warrior

Not Just the Greek’s Wife

Million-Dollar Christmas Proposal

Kostas’s Convenient Bride

By His Royal Decree miniseries

One Night Heir

Prince of Secrets

Ruthless Russians miniseries

An Heiress for His Empire

A Virgin for His Prize

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Spaniard’s Pleasurable Vengeance

Lucy Monroe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07262-5

The SPANIARD’S PLEASURABLE VENGEANCE

© 2018 Lucy Monroe

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For my readers, because you’ve stuck with me

through the challenges that make writing so hard.

Your letters reminded me that my stories touched real

people’s hearts and that is why I write—so, thank

you! I am so grateful to each of you who picks up a

book and completes the circle of connection to me,

the author, and especially thankful for the readers

who have encouraged me through some of the most

difficult times in my life. I write for all of you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

“I DON’T NEED a damn appointment! I’m his sister, you cretin.” The sharp American accent and strident tone of Gracia’s voice reached Basilio through his partially closed office door.

The heavy door opened forcefully, slamming back against the rich paneling of his wall, but surprisingly, his administrative assistant made it into the office a step ahead of Basilio’s sister. “Sir, I’m sorry.” The distress at not holding her post was clear in his admin’s tone. “She refused to even wait for me to ascertain if you were still on your conference call.”

Gracia came storming around his admin at the same time as his executive assistant came rushing in from her annex office.

“What is going on in here?” Her hair in a severe chignon, her navy business suit immaculate, his fifty-year-old executive assistant could do freezing aristocratic disapproval better than even Basilio’s mother, who was actually the daughter of a count.

His admin immediately began apologizing again as he stood from his desk, giving his sister a look that would have made Basilio’s mother proud. Gracia halted in her approach to his desk, her annoyed expression morphing to one of consternation.

She gave the EA a moderately polite look before looking at Basilio with wariness. “It is a family emergency.”

Basilio merely waited in silence for more information.

His executive assistant wasn’t so patient. “I see, and there was no time for you to call and apprise us of your imminent arrival so we could clear your brother’s schedule on your drive from the airport?” Camila Lopez asked with clear censure.

Gracia looked between Basilio and his EA, her cheeks going pink. “I wasn’t thinking of calling. Only getting here.”

“And if Señor Perez had been away from the office?” Camila pressed with a single raised, perfectly shaped black eyebrow.

“I didn’t think of that.”

As amusing as he found his sister’s interaction with his executive assistant, Basilio did not have time for the entertainment. He did, in fact, have a very busy day.

“Thank you for your assistance and I will need the next thirty minutes for Gracia,” he said to both his admin and Camila. “See that we are not disturbed.”

“Of course, señor,” Camila said to him with just the right amount of deference before offering his sister a look that said clearly, she wasn’t worried about someone else interrupting.

Once the other two women had left his office, both doors through which they’d gone closed firmly behind them, Basilio indicated one of the chairs facing his desk. “Sit down, Gracia, and tell me what has you forcing your way past my admin.”

Gracia sank into the seat with more grace than her behavior had shown so far. “It really is a family emergency, Baz.”

For the family that so rarely remembered he was a member?

“Explain,” he demanded as he settled back into his own chair.

Gracia frowned at his tone. “You remember when that awful teenager hit little Jamie with her car?”

“I am unlikely to forget.” Five years before, his then four-year-old nephew had spent two weeks in a coma after being hit by a car while on an outing with his mother.

“Well, apparently, she changed her name and moved away from Southern California.”

“Unsurprising.” While Basilio had been in Spain at the time, saving his father’s company from bankruptcy, he knew that Miranda Weber had been vilified in the broadcast media and even worse on all the social media outlets.

“Yes, well. Some idiotic reporter found out who she is and is resurrecting the story.”

And this was the family emergency that she needed Basilio’s help with? When usually both Carlos and Gracia were happy to forget they were half siblings most of the time.

Putting aside his own sense of cynicism about their definition of family, Basilio said, “I can see where that would be emotionally difficult for Carlos and Tiffany.”

“Yes. It’s awful! And this time some fly-by-night morning gossip show wants to interview the girl. She’s all set to give them her side of the story.”

“She’s not a girl any longer, surely.” Miranda had been nineteen five years ago.

“Woman, then,” Gracia said dismissively. “She’ll go on television and lie. About our family!”

“Surely Carlos has PR people who can handle this.” Not to mention lawyers. If the woman lied in a public forum, they could bring a civil suit.

“You know he prefers you call him Carl.”

Yes, because it was less Spanish, letting him forget he ever had a father named Armand Perez. “That is what you want to discuss now?” Basilio asked, his voice dry.

“No, of course not.” Gracia wrung her hands. “It’s just you have to do something!”

“What do you imagine I can do that Carl and Tiffany cannot? They are not exactly without resources.” Carlos’s wife came from an old and wealthy East Coast family.

Basilio’s brother ran his stepfather’s business, one of respectable enough size to have public relations people on retainer. While Perez Holdings was much bigger and more successful now, that had not always been the case.

“She had a restraining order taken out against both Carl and Tiffany. It includes any representative working for, or on retainer from, them.”

“How did she manage that?” Basilio wondered aloud.

“It’s insane, I know.”

That was not what Basilio had meant. For Miranda Weber to obtain such a thing, serious threats had to have been made. Cursed with a deep-seated sense of entitlement, his brother could be a hothead, as well. Carlos had never had to save a company, or put the hours into shoring up his family’s name in the international community as Basilio had done. When their father split with Carlos and Gracia’s mother, she’d remarried quickly and both of Basilio’s older siblings had embraced their new American family wholeheartedly, taking their stepfather’s last name and rejecting their Spanish heritage for their American mother’s way of life.

While Basilio was not sure he could blame Carlos, considering the current circumstances, clearly the older man’s temper and certainty he could do as he pleased had cost him access to Miranda.

When Basilio didn’t say anything right away, Gracia added, “I think it might have been her brother-in-law or something.”

“She has a sister?” He didn’t remember that. He’d thought the woman who put his nephew into a coma was an only child.

“Apparently. Only a half sister, but still...”

“Yes, still.” Basilio knew just how little regard his sister and brother had for the concept of a half sibling.

“Oh, get off it, Baz. I didn’t mean you.”

“As you say.”

Gracia leaned forward. “You need to do something.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Well, Carl’s company doesn’t have quite the sway yours does.”

That was an understatement. Basilio had ruthlessly built Perez Holdings into a powerful multibillion-dollar international entity, while his brother’s realty group was worth mere millions. “The Madison Realty Group is hardly a global concern” was all Basilio said, though.

“Exactly.”

“So?” Basilio prompted.

Gracia’s expression turned crafty. “So, maybe you can convince the brother-in-law to withdraw his support.”

“Who is this in-law?”

“His name is Andreas Kostas. That’s Greek, isn’t it? I don’t remember the name of his company.”

Surprise made Basilio sit up straighter in his chair. “Yes, it is Greek, and I know exactly who he is. My company uses his company’s security software, or what used to be his company. I believe he recently merged with Hawk Enterprises.”

Andreas Kostas was a shark’s shark and he was now in business with one of the biggest sharks swimming in their waters. No wonder Carlos needed help dealing with Miranda’s family.

Gracia waved that information away. “Whatever. He didn’t respond well when Carl contacted him, hoping to convince him to talk Miranda out of doing the interview.”

“If he threatened him, I don’t imagine so.” Kostas wasn’t known for tolerating fools or blowhards. Unfortunately, Carlos had played both on occasion.

“Who said Carl threatened anybody?” Gracia sounded indignant, but her guilty expression didn’t jibe with her words.

Basilio just gave his sister a look until she squirmed in her chair.

“Okay, he may have said some things he didn’t mean, but come on.” Gracia waved her hands in agitation. “He and Tiffany went through enough five years ago.”

“On that we can agree.”

“So, you’ll do something?”

“I will come to the States and look into the situation.” That was all he would promise.

If it came down to it, Basilio wasn’t above using his influence and power to push either Andreas Kostas or his sister-in-law into doing what was best for Basilio’s family because for him family came first, last and always. However, first he would get some real answers about what was going on.

“You have to hurry. She’s slated to do her interview in three weeks. The recent media storm is just starting to die down, and if she does that interview, it’s bound to blow everything up again.”

“Understood. What name does she go by now?”

“She kept her first name, but changed Weber to Smith.”

“Very anonymous.”

Gracia’s lips twisted in distaste. “Yes.”

Well, Weber or Smith, Basilio had every intention of finding the woman who had already cost his family so much. Whatever it took, he would protect the brother and sister-in-law who had suffered enough.

CHAPTER ONE

LATE FOR DINNER with her newfound sister and recently acquired brother-in-law, Randi rushed out of her even more recently acquired office.

She’d been shocked and delighted when Kayla asked Randi if she was interested in taking over managing responsibilities for Kayla’s for Kids, the shelter her sister had founded for at-risk children and youth. The opportunity to do what Randi loved while living near enough to get to know her long-lost sister had been too good to pass up. Besides, she got to use both her degree in business and adjunct degree in social services.

Part of her new job would include launching a second site in the western suburbs of Portland. Apparently, Andreas had donated enough for the expansion as a wedding gift, in addition to designating his new company’s charitable contributions all to Kayla’s for Kids, making fund-raising efforts a lot less stressful for Randi’s team.

It was Randi’s dream job and she adored her sister and brother-in-law for making it possible.

Collision with a hard, muscular wall on the sidewalk abruptly halted Randi’s headlong flight to her car.

She cried out and then immediately started apologizing, even as she felt her balance waver. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you.”

Big, strong hands on her upper arms stopped her bounce backward that would have landed Randi on her backside. “Is that a common occurrence, running into people you didn’t see?” he asked, a foreign accent subtle but unmistakable.

Randi winced. The man could not know the old wound his words bled yet again.

She pulled herself together with a firm mental yank and shrugged. “I’d love to say no, but I have a tendency toward klutziness, especially when I’m in a rush.”

Why she was admitting that particular failing to this gorgeous man, she did not know. Because man, total hottie alert. Easily as tall as her brother-in-law, who stood at six feet four inches, the black-haired man with sexy stubble on his face towered over Randi’s own five feet five inches.

Espresso-brown eyes locked on hers. “I see. Are you in a rush often?”

For whatever reason, she didn’t step back from him. “Not really, just sometimes. Though it’s usually walls I run into, or doorjambs, or you know, furniture. I hardly ever bump into people.”

Even, white teeth flashed in a smile that didn’t quite reach his dark brown eyes. “I’m special, then.”

“You could take it that way, yes.”

He released her arms. Finally, but he did not step out of her personal space. “I believe I will.”

“Okay.” Heat climbed up her neck and into her cheeks that Randi could do nothing about.

He offered his hand. “Basilio Perez.”

“Oh, um, Randi Smith.” She laid her palm against his.

Instead of shaking hands, he lifted hers to his lips, brushing a barely there kiss on the backs of her knuckles. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Smith.”

Randi finally understood what it meant to be electrified by a man’s touch. His lips against her skin sent frissons of sensation throughout her body and she gasped.

“Ms. Smith? Are you all right?” There was something in his too-knowing gaze that said he was perfectly aware of the effect he was having on her.

She tried to speak, then cleared her throat and tried again. “Randi, please.”

“Randi is short for?”

“Oh, um, no one ever asks. They just ask stuff like if I enjoy having a boy’s name.”

“So?” He hadn’t let go of her hand and he now brushed his thumb over her knuckles, where his lips had been.

She had no thought of not answering. “Miranda.”

“Lovely name.”

“You think so?” She’d always found it old-fashioned.

“I do.”

“Basilio is pretty neat, too. Spanish?” she guessed.

“You got it in one. My friends call me Baz.”

“My friends call me Randi.”

“I prefer Miranda.”

Did that mean he didn’t want to be friends? Only he’d implied she should call him Baz. “Are we going to be friends?”

“I would like that.”

Good. “Me, too. I mean...” But she wasn’t sure what she’d meant to say, the sexual chemistry between them playing havoc with the efficient firing of synapses in her brain.

“I hope you mean just that.”

“Yes, okay.”

“So, dinner tonight?” he asked, still caressing her hand.

“I have plans with my sister and brother-in-law.” And as much as she wanted to spend time with her sister, giving up a date with such a delicious man was hard.

“After-dinner drinks?”

“Really?” Oh, man, why had she asked that? “I mean, that would be great. Fine.”

She was just going to sink into the sidewalk right now.

“When and where?”

She thought about the location of the restaurant she was supposed to meet her family at and a likely spot near it. “How about the piano bar at the Heathman?”

It was quiet, with lots of places to sit in an intimate tête-à-tête.

“Fine. What time?” Basilio asked.

“Eight o’clock?” She was having an early dinner with Kayla and Andreas.

“Perfect. I will get my own dinner and meet you there.”

Taking a risk, Randi asked, “You could join us?”

“You are sure I would not be an unwelcome intrusion?”

She loved the formal cadence of his speech, so different from her own. “Not at all. I’m sure Kayla and Andreas would not mind at all.”

But she’d better call and give a heads-up on her way over.

“Then I would be pleased to accept.”

“Great. Um, you can meet me there?”

“Naturally. I would not expect you to get into a car with a stranger after such short acquaintance.”

And why she wished she could, she wasn’t even going to think about. Ever since the trouble five years before, Randi had become very wary of new people and even making friends, much less dating. But no way was this man a grubby reporter, looking for lascivious details from the years-old tragedy.

Not in his five-thousand-dollar suit and shoes that probably cost more than she made in a week.

They made arrangements to meet at the restaurant in twenty minutes. Then Randi was running for her car, even later than she had been.

* * *

Basilio pulled into the valet parking for the Heathman.

A walk from the restaurant to the piano bar would be further opportunity to draw out Miranda Smith née Weber. Bumping into her on purpose had made two things very clear. One, the picture in the file he’d had compiled on her did not capture the sweet naïveté she wore like a cloak, nor her unconscious sensuality. Two, seduction might well be his best course of action in achieving the goal his family needed.

While intimidation tactics were not yet off the table, he had a feeling using the instant attraction between them would be more easily effective.

Walking into the restaurant a few minutes later, he was once again struck by the clarity of her gray eyes as they met his across the roomful of diners in the upscale steak house. Even in the subdued lighting of the restaurant, the gray orbs glowed. Miranda was sitting with Andreas Kostas and another woman with eyes the exact color and vibrancy of Miranda’s, declaring her the sister.

Basilio allowed the maître d’ to lead him across the restaurant to the linen-clad table for four. Appetizers and bread were already on the table, indicating the Kostases had been there for a while.

Miranda stood up. “You made it.”

Basilio nodded, finding her enthusiasm almost charming. There was such an innocence about this woman, he found it hard to believe she had plans to blow his family’s peace right out of the water. She did not look or behave like someone who would go on a talk show to spite them, particularly after committing such a heinous act as hitting a small child with her car.

But he had it on good authority that Miranda Smith, for all her airs of innocence, was exactly that kind of woman.

He could not afford to forget that fact.

“This is my sister, Kayla Kostas, and her husband, Andreas.” Miranda indicated the other two people with one hand, nearly knocking over a filled water goblet.

Her brother-in-law saved the table from getting doused with a discernible lack of impatience.

Basilio inclined his head to the married couple. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Randi said she met you on the street?” Kayla asked as Andreas sat down, clearly wanting more information.

Miranda had dropped back into her chair across the dining table from him. She smiled shyly at him, her cheeks tinged with color. Was she embarrassed she’d allowed him to pick her up?

He winked at her and watched the color darken along her lovely cheekbones, then turned his head to meet Kayla’s eyes. “We bumped into each other.”

“More like I mowed him down in my rush to be on time.”

The twinge he felt that she was taking responsibility for the collision he had orchestrated was odd, and Basilio ignored it. “You were in a rush to get here, I believe.”

“I was late.”

“I guessed.”

She ducked her head. “Yes, well...”

“Do you make a habit of picking up women you bump into on the street?” Andreas asked, his tone cynical.

“Having dinner with a beautiful woman is never a hardship.” Basilio met the assessing green gaze steadily.

He’d spent years rebuilding his father’s company and the Perez name in business circles. Basilio had learned long ago not to allow anyone else’s opinion of him, or his actions, to disconcert him.

Andreas Kostas was not the only dangerous business shark in the room.

“You didn’t answer my question.” The other man was not easily fobbed off.

Basilio didn’t mind. “I did not.”

He was going to leave it that way until he noted the uncertainty clouding Miranda’s expression. His plans required her trust.

So he spoke to her, not the nosy Greek sitting to Basilio’s left. “I have never picked up a woman I met on the street. I did not pick you up like a lost puppy. I asked you for drinks. You suggested dinner and I was pleased to accept.”

“If that’s not the definition of a pickup, I don’t know what is,” Kayla inserted.

But Miranda looked happier and that was all that Basilio was worried about. She smiled at him. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Be assured you are not one of many.” She was, in fact, the only woman who could give his family what they so desperately needed: peace.

Miranda let out a small gasp, but the sound that came from her brother-in-law was far more cynical.

Basilio gave him a dry look. “How do you like venture capitalism? Different from digital security?”

“You meant to run into Randi!” Kayla exclaimed. “You wanted to meet Andreas. You know who he is.”

Miranda’s head jerked, and her beautiful gray eyes filled with hurt.

This was getting ridiculous. Basilio frowned at the sister. “While I applaud your concern for Miranda, please stop putting such negative thoughts into her head. I assure you, if I wanted to meet your husband to discuss a business venture, he would take my call.”

Andreas narrowed his gaze. “Don’t glower at my wife. She’s just looking out for Randi.”

“As I said, laudable, but unnecessary.”

“What does he mean, Andreas? Do you know something about Basilio?” Kayla asked.

Andreas’s jaw hardened, like he’d just realized who Basilio was. “Basilio Perez is the president of the worldwide real estate and hotel consortium known as Perez Holdings. He has fingers in more pies than Sebastian Hawk.”

“You are?” Miranda asked, looking pale.

“I am. That does not change your desire to dine with me, does it?” he teased, knowing it wouldn’t. He’d never met a woman not drawn to his power and position.

She looked like she wasn’t sure of her answer, though. “I’m not in your league.”

“I’m not looking for a baseball team to dine with, just one quirky, charming woman and her very suspicious relatives.” Not that they had nothing to worry about in her regard, but their concerns were in all the wrong directions.

While Basilio dated his fair share of women, he was by no means a womanizer. And he was not looking to use her for her family business connections.

“Oh, that’s kind of sweet,” Kayla said.

Miranda nodded. “It is.”

Andreas was still watching Basilio with suspicion. However, after they ordered their food and the evening progressed, the other man thawed some. Basilio found himself actually enjoying conversation with the somewhat socially awkward Kayla, her very business-savvy husband and the unexpectedly sweet Miranda.

“So, are you here looking at an acquisition?” Andreas asked at one point.

Basilio put down his glass of very good scotch after taking a sip. “That’s not something I can discuss.”

“Why not?” Miranda asked, pausing with the bite of steak she had been about to eat dangling on her fork.

“If word got out I was looking at a property, the sale price would increase immediately.”

“Because you have deep pockets?” Miranda asked, sounding like she was trying to understand.

“Exactly.” He was, in fact, looking at a property, a historic hotel that had closed down and would need extensive remodeling and updates before it could be opened again.

But the property was beautiful and the bones of the hotel were strong. He hadn’t made a decision about the purchase yet, though.

“So, property acquisition is your thing?” Kayla asked.

“Sometimes.” He had too much to do running Perez Holdings for him to be a full-time acquisitions manager. “I enjoy it.”

“Then maybe you can help Randi find the property for our expansion house.”

“Expansion house?” he asked, like he didn’t have all the details in his report on the family back in his hotel suite.

“I run Kayla’s for Kids.” Miranda smiled, her tone saying how much satisfaction her job gave her. “It’s a shelter for children and youth.”

“Not their parents?”

Miranda’s smile did not dim. “If their parents are around, we have services to help them, but our focus is the kids. The number of homeless teenagers and children in need of a safe place after school is greater than the facilities available to serve them.”

“And you want to help these children?” Was she looking for absolution in service after what she’d done five years before?

“I do.” Miranda’s eyes darkened to molten silver. “Children deserve the best we can give them, but just as important, they are the beginning of change. If we give them hope for now, a chance to learn and grow, there’s no way of knowing how much each child will touch and influence the world in their lifetime.”

“So it starts with giving them a place to play games after school?”

“And experience art, a place to read a book in peace, a place to be safe.” Her passion was damn near addictive.

Could he believe she was that committed to the welfare of children and still be the woman willing to tear his own nephew’s life apart with media interest?

“You are adding on another shelter, then?” he asked.

“Yes, where the rate of homeless teens is one of the highest.” She named a western suburb of Portland. “But I don’t expect you to help me find the building. I’m sure you’re way too busy.”

“On the contrary, I would be happy to help you.” Doing so would give him the excuse he required to spend time with her.

“Really?” she asked, her lovely face covered in delight.

“Yes.”

“That’s great. I’m supposed to look at properties tomorrow.”

“Send me a list of the properties and your requirements for the shelter. I’ll vet them and see what else I can find for you.”

“Seriously? You’d do that? I’ve got a Realtor working with me. She’s going to donate her commission to the shelter, but doesn’t seem to understand the concept of a budget and long-term running costs.”

“Send me her name, as well, and I will make sure she understands your requirements, or I will find a Realtor who will.”

“Oh, I don’t want you intimidating her. Like I said, she’s generously donating her commission to the shelter.”

“That donated commission could end up costing you quite a bit more in the long run.”

“I tried to tell both Kayla and Randi this.” Andreas gave both women a speaking look. “But they’re convinced that anyone willing to donate their income is as committed to the best interests of the shelter as they are.”

“Give me her name and I will make certain.”

Miranda bit her lip. “I really don’t want you scaring her.”

“You think I would?”

“Um, just sitting at dinner with you is a little intimidating. Being under your scrutiny in a business setting?” Miranda gave an exaggerated shiver. “That would be downright frightening.”

“And then some,” Kayla said with a firm nod.

Andreas looked just a little horrified at his wife’s honesty, but Basilio merely laughed, not offended in the least. He filed away the knowledge that Miranda was quite a bit more discerning than he’d given her credit for.

She might even recognize on some subconscious level that he was a danger to her. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t understand just how ruthless he really was.

No man got to where he was in the business world without being an apex predator.

CHAPTER TWO

RANDI CAUGHT HER breath as Baz put his arm around her waist to walk to the piano bar.

He was so virile and strong. Rich and gorgeous.

An overwhelming example of the male species, and that was no exaggeration.

She was having a hard time understanding what he was doing with her. She wasn’t hideous. Or embarrassingly awkward company, but that didn’t mean she was the usual sort of date for a man like Basilio Perez.

Randi knew who and what she was. A usually shy, moderately pretty woman, who found the company of children easier to navigate than most single men.

She didn’t date a lot, especially after the accident five years ago. Unable to deal with the media frenzy and social media ostracization, the man she’d thought she was going to marry had broken things off. Then Randi had been tricked into dating a reporter who wanted the inside scoop on the woman accused of destroying a family with her carelessness.

Each defection had devastated and demoralized her, the loss of friendships and even her university scholarship only adding to her sense of betrayal. She’d learned not to trust quickly or easily, not with new friends and particularly not with possible boyfriends.

She never allowed strange men to talk her into dinner and drinks.

But Baz wasn’t exactly some random stranger. He was the president of a multibillion-dollar conglomerate. No way did he have a hidden agenda. Randi had nothing the man could want.

However, that didn’t make this date any less bewildering, not to mention disturbing. The more time she spent with him, the more her attraction to him grew. She’d never felt anything as powerful. She wanted him. Seriously, deeply.

His arm around her waist was not helping her sense of self-control, either.

That simple point of contact ratcheting up the unexpected, unfamiliar and yet incredible sensations of desire coursing through her.

“So, um, do you come to Portland often?” She nearly winced at her gauche question. It sounded like she was fishing for the future and she was too smart to think they had one of those.

“This is my first time.”

“Really? It’s an amazing city that prides itself on being weird.” She adored the eccentricity mixed with a good dose of cosmopolitan culture and had grown to love her new home in a very short amount of time.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I just moved here a couple of months ago, but I wouldn’t mind showing you some of the sights, if you like.” Randi waited with cautious hope for Baz’s answer to what was for her a very bold and unprecedented offer.

“I would like that.” Dark eyes glinting with something like satisfaction, he smiled down at her. “Getting a feeling for the area is part of how I make decisions about whether or not to buy.”

“So you are here looking for a property.” She knew it.

But she did her best to ignore the tendril of hope unfurling inside her. If he bought a property, he’d come back. Wouldn’t he?

“Perhaps” was all he said.

She laughed, finding something about his caginess endearing. “I’m not going to blab. Even if I did, who could I tell that would impact you?” she teased. “I’m a social worker, not a real estate mogul.”

His responding laughter sent shivers of sensation through her. “As you say.”

“But you’re still not going to tell me, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re a very cautious man.”

“I would not be where I am if I were not.”

“Walking down the street with a woman you just met hours ago?” She made no effort to hide the laughter in her voice, because really? If she was acting impulsively, so was he.

He stopped and pulled her around to face him, their bodies inches apart, his attention intent and on her only. “You enjoy your own humor, don’t you?”

“Someone should.”

He wasn’t smiling exactly, but humor gleamed in his espresso-brown gaze. “You are not as shy as you appear at first.”

“I feel comfortable with you.” Which was really dangerous, but she also found him super-attractive. Could attraction undermine common sense completely? She’d never thought so, but she was adjusting her thinking on that issue fast.

“That is good to know.”

“I think so, too.” Her words trailed off as his head lowered toward hers. She stared up into his dark gaze; her lips parted of their own accord. “Are you going to kiss me?”

His answer was his mouth pressing to hers.

Sensation exploded inside Randi. Zings of electric current coursed through her body, radiating outward from where their lips touched and sending goose bumps in waves over her skin. Need like she had never known throbbed in her core, making her press her thighs together in instinctive effort to alleviate it. It didn’t work, of course.

She ached for way more than a simple kiss.

Though there was nothing simple about the way Baz’s lips owned hers, giving no quarter, demanding response or submission, with no option for backing off.

At least as far as her body’s response would allow.

Though his hands were on her upper arms, Baz did not actively hold her in place with anything but the press of his lips. Randi responded on a primal, visceral level that would not allow her to hold back, bringing forth sensations she’d read about, but never actually experienced.

Overwhelming passion. Gut-level desire that burned hotter than the California wildfires in the summer. Her nipples beaded with near-painful intensity; her most intimate flesh pulsed with a need for touch; her lips softened and molded to his with hungry ardency.

Randi reveled in every single unfamiliar sensation, responding to the kiss in a way that a public display on the busy sidewalk did not warrant, her own lack of control acting as an irresistible aphrodisiac.

She could no more help giving him kiss for kiss than she could stop breathing.

Breathing might even be less necessary.

Randi curled her fingers around the lapels of Baz’s suit jacket, pulling his body closer to hers. Only then did warm, masculine arms come around her, holding her tight now, his hands pressed tightly to her back and just at the top of her buttocks.

The kiss morphed into something more than possession. It became two people equally intent, equally impassioned, equally lost to their desires.

There could be no doubt, until Baz pulled his head back.

At least his breathing was ragged like hers, his expression pained. “We’ve got to stop. On a public sidewalk is not the place for this.”

Randi didn’t care. This was something new for her. Something craved. Something needed. Refusing to give up the amazing sensations his kiss caused, she rose on her tiptoes, seeking his mouth again, only realizing as his lips cut them off that the needy little sounds she heard were coming from her.

And she did not care. There could be no embarrassment in this level of yearning.

He groaned, the deep, masculine sound traveling through her body, leaving devastation in its wake. Baz invaded her mouth with his tongue. It was not finessed; the demand of his tongue sliding against hers had no lead in, no buildup to the increased intimacy, and again... Randi did not care.

She opened wider for him, melting under the demanding forays. Her tongue tangled with his, taking in his taste, unlike any other taste, pure sex, pure man. Randi kissed him back, letting him feel the unfamiliar and overwhelming passion exploding inside her.

He made a deep sound in his throat, all male want, but then he did the unthinkable. Again.

His hands landing on her shoulders to push her away at the same time as he broke the connection between their mouths for the second time was not only not welcome, it was also torture. Didn’t he understand? She needed his lips, his tongue, his arms tight around her.

She could not suppress the sound of keen disappointment, or control her involuntary move back toward him.

But Baz was made of sterner stuff than she was, apparently, because he held her firmly away. “No, Miranda. Not here. We have put on enough of an entertainment for others.”

She looked around and saw that they did indeed have an audience, several smiles and thumbs-ups directed her way. Only in Portland.

Blushing to the roots of her hair, Randi allowed herself to be set away from the source of her temptation. “I guess we should go into the piano bar, huh?”

Baz inclined his head. “If that is what you wish.”

“I...” What was he saying? Was he ready for the evening to be over?

“Or we could go into the hotel and get a room?” he suggested.

She’d never done that, not once. Randi had not only never had a one-off with a man she’d just met, she’d also never rented a hotel room with a man for the sole purpose of having sex. The illicit nature of the idea was way too alluring.

And that worried her. Where was her deeply ingrained sense of self-preservation?

She asked the only thing her mind could conjure without giving away just how much she wanted to do exactly as he suggested. “Don’t you have a room already?”

His shrug was dismissive. “An executive penthouse condo, but getting there would require waiting to have my car brought around by the valet. Besides, I can’t travel alone. If I’m in my penthouse, my staff can find me even if I turn off my phone.”

She couldn’t imagine that kind of pressure, the knowledge that privacy and alone time were little more than an illusion. Even so.

“You’re saying you want me so much you want to get a room, right here at the Heathman, so we can...” She couldn’t make herself spell it out.

“Pick up where that kiss left off, yes.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, yes, I’d like that.” What was she saying? Was she agreeing to a hookup in a hotel room with a man she’d only met hours ago?

And if she was, why wasn’t she more freaked out about the idea?

Randi was barely a nonvirgin, having had sex exactly twice. Neither of which had turned out well for her. She and her almost fiancé had gotten intimate just before the accident and subsequent media storm. The reporter had gotten Randi into bed after a few weeks of dating and pretending to be someone else, only to walk away the next morning with his exclusive.

But Baz was not some jerk with a hidden agenda who would break her heart after using her body. It might only be one night; their mutual passion might be a temporary aberration, but at least she wasn’t worried about the aftermath.

Randi was tired of living in the bubble of loneliness that had surrounded her for the past five years.

Whatever happened tomorrow, tonight she got what she just knew was going to be amazing sex, with the most magnetic man she’d ever spoken to, much less kissed.

Baz looked down at her, his dark-chocolate gaze filled with desire. “Well?”

An atavistic chill ran down her spine. This man was a primal alpha and she wanted to meet him passion for passion. “Yes.”

“Yes to the hotel room?”

She nodded.

“I need the word, mi hermosa. There can be no doubt.”

“Yes.”

His smile was killer. “Muy bien. Vente mi, cariña.” He took her hand and set a fast pace for the main entrance to the hotel.

So, he lost his English when he was turned on. Randi liked knowing she could affect him so strongly. And she liked the endearments, too. Even if it was only a one-night stand, what woman didn’t want to be called beautiful and darling? Though beautiful might be stretching it, she wasn’t about to tell him so. Let the man look at her through the filter of lust-filled glasses.

She hadn’t been into the main lobby of the Heathman in years, its nearly hundred-year-old beauty as pristine as when it had first been built in the nineteen-twenties. Both luxurious and gorgeous, with its decorative, rich wood walls and pillars, two-story-high ceiling and elegant decor, the cavernous room intended for greeting guests was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Baz, international business mogul, led her to the desk and had no trouble procuring a room, despite his lack of reservations. The fact he was happy to take the Grand Suite for the night probably had something to do with that.

Randi couldn’t help gasping when she heard the clerk tell Baz how much one night would be. She could pay the rent on her small apartment for two months with what he was willing to pay to have the convenience of a hotel room right that minute.

With original art on the walls—art rarely seen outside a museum, no less—the suite’s full-size living room and dining area decorated in pure modern elegance was separated from the bedroom by a spacious foyer, making the suite bigger than her apartment and way more lavish.

“Stop looking at the furniture. I want your eyes on me,” Baz instructed as he pulled her into his arms.

“But this place is incredible,” she teased, having no problem following his demands.

Even the opulent suite couldn’t hold a candle to the man pulling her close into his body.

Baz’s expression turned thoughtful. “You like it? The clerk said it was booked for tomorrow, but I could probably persuade them to accommodate us.”

Of course the billionaire thought so, despite the fact it was probably some kind of celebrity coming in to stay.

“No. I... It’s just... This place is bigger than my apartment!”

His smile was indulgent. “And would you rather explore it, or me?”

That fast, the desire buzzing along her nerve endings went critical. “You.”

“Then let us go to the bedroom.”

And without warning, she was suddenly in his arms, being carried like a princess into a bedroom fit for royalty. He set her down and ripped the extra pillows from the bed, tossing them onto the floor, before flinging back the duvet.

Then he turned to her. “I think we are both overdressed for what is about to happen.”

Her mouth gone instantly dry, she nodded.

He slipped off his tailored suit jacket and hung it carelessly on an armchair, before toeing off his shoes so he could slip his trousers off and do the same with them. His legs were pillars of muscle; his olive skin sprinkled with dark, masculine hair. He kicked off his socks without looking away from her, no evidence of even the slightest discomfort in his near nudity.

Paralyzed with want and no small dose of insecurity she’d rather pretend she never felt, Randi just watched the Spanish business shark strip.

“You are not going to join me?” he asked, his tone teasing, no doubt there that she wanted what he so clearly did.

The power tie went next, and then the buttons on his shirt before Baz shrugged it off to lay it over his other clothes on the chair, putting acres of golden olive skin on display.

She sucked in air as his muscular, defined torso and chest came into view. “I think your abs have abs. What do you do, like a million sit-ups a day or something?”

“My exercise routine is what you want to talk about?” he demanded, humor lacing his voice, but oh, his eyes.

They burned with everything she felt.

Truthfully? She didn’t want to talk at all. Randi wanted to touch, crossing the few feet of carpet separating them to do just that.

While the tent in his snug, black, silk-knit boxers called to her, she reached up to brush her hands through the black hair on his chest. “So soft.”

“You expected something else?”

“I’ve never been with a man with chest hair before,” she admitted.

“I do not want to hear about other men.”

His words thrilled her, but she wasn’t so far gone she was going to let him see that. “So possessive for a one-night stand.”

“You believe I will have all I want of you in a single night?” he asked with disbelief. “Not a chance.”

The breath in her lungs whooshed out. “Good to know,” she choked out.

His hands were on the hem of her gray knit dress, the smocking over her chest that she’d always considered cute and comfortable, now confining against sensitized flesh and peaked nipples. He pulled the dress up and over her head without another word and she let him, the cuffs on the three-quarter-length sleeves catching for a breathless second on her hands, leaving her blinded by fabric and vulnerable before him.

“Bella,” he husked out as the dress finally disappeared, giving her a renewed view of Baz. Heated espresso eyes burned her with their intensity as his gaze ate her up. “You are a surprise.”

Again with the beautiful. Randi had reason to be glad she’d learned Spanish in order to communicate with the children whom she assumed would come through her office at social services for which it was their first language.

Only belatedly did she realize what exactly had him surprised, and apparently mesmerized. “My sister likes shopping at the lingerie store.”

“And she takes you with her?” he asked as he made no effort to hide his fascination with her breasts covered by a sheer lift bra and the matching panties that allowed him to see the soft brown curls at the apex of her thighs, the fabric a pearlescent gossamer.

Under the perfectly opaque fabric of her dress, she could wear whatever sexy underwear she liked and never considered someone else seeing them. “They remind me I’m a sexual being.”

A reminder she had needed very badly before tonight.

“I assure you, no one else could forget.”

“Right.” She didn’t have her sister’s generous curves, Randi’s own body as subtle in its femininity as she was shy.

“You doubt me?” He indicated the rampant erection barely contained by his boxers. “You think I do this kind of thing with every woman I meet?”

Another blush heated her skin, but desire made her even hotter. “No, I don’t doubt you want me. I want you, too.”

“Then let’s get your boots off and you into bed.”

She couldn’t feel awkward standing there in her brown, nearly flat-heeled boots that reached her knees, and nothing else besides the diaphanous underwear. Not with the approval glowing in his dark gaze.

“You like this look?” she couldn’t help teasing with a cant to her hips.

“Very much, but I believe you will be more comfortable without footwear.”

She nodded. Even in her current state, she’d feel all kinds of wrong climbing onto the luxurious bed with her shoes on.

They made quick work of her boots and then she was on her back, on the bed.

Baz pulled off her panties, his gaze fixed firmly on the triangle of curls hiding her most sensitive flesh. “I love the sexy lingerie, but full access is even more exciting.”

Feeling embarrassed for the first time, she put her hand over herself. “I used to wax.”

“I prefer this. Did you know if I touch you carefully, like so...” He gently pulled her hand away before his fingertips barely brushed over the tips of her private curls. “You will feel it deep inside.”

She couldn’t help the arch upward, or the gasp of pleasure as his caress made truth out of his words. Really? Her hair was an erogenous zone, and quite an effective one. Desire ran rampant through her blood, every nerve ending on high alert for the barest touch from him.

“You are beautiful here.” No question, from where he was looking and the brush of his fingers, what he was talking about.

“That...you...” She wanted to deny the words, deny that he could find her most intimate place beautiful. “That’s for touching, not looking.”

He got off the bed, stripped off his boxers and indicated his very hard, very big—at least in her experience—and very obvious erection. “You do not get turned on seeing my sex?”

Why was he asking her this? “You’re awfully blunt.” But she couldn’t move her gaze away from tumescent flesh and knew deep in her heart that seeing it soft would be no less arousing.

His expression dared her to deny his words.

She wasn’t a liar. “Yes, seeing you excites me. A lot.” But she hadn’t realized it would, hadn’t thought of herself as a visual person when it came to sex.

“And looking at you, the very part of yourself you hold most private, inflames me.” His accent had thickened, lending a warm Latin lilt to his words.

He rejoined her on the bed, straddling her thighs, his erection pressed against her sensitized mound.

He ran a finger along the bit of exposed breast above the top of her bra. “Muy guapa.”

“I’m...” More compliments to her body. How was she supposed to take them?

The way Baz was with her, his touches and words, was so outside her experience in the bedroom—what little there was of it.

Randi gasped as he cupped both her breasts with his hands, rubbing expertly against her already hard and tight nipples through the silky fabric. “Glad. I’m glad.”

“Good to know.” His expression was all approval. “You are so responsive.”

“I never have been.”

His eyes narrowed as if he was thinking, his head cocked a little. “You aren’t very experienced, are you?”

“You told me you didn’t want to hear about other men.”

“The lack thereof in your past is an unexpected turn-on.”

“It is?” she gasped out as his ministrations to her breasts sent sensation zinging straight to the core of her.

“Yes.”

“Unexpected?”

“As a rule, I stay away from women lacking in experience.”

He wanted lovers who could keep up with him and maybe knew the score. Right? She understood that. And was doing her best to keep that score in mind, no matter how devastating his touch.

A billionaire Spanish businessman wasn’t going to keep a social worker from her family background, even if he did want more than one night. She did, too, so that was okay. Right?

She wasn’t going to fall in love with this sexy man.

She wasn’t.

“But not me,” she confirmed.

“No. Not you. You, I want.”

“I want you, too.”

He leaned down and kissed her then, his tongue demanding entrance almost immediately. She gave it to him, reveling in how he took control of her body and the kiss. She’d never wanted to give herself this way, to let a man touch her like she was his.

Randi’s characteristic cling to independence and self-control, no matter the situation, was conspicuously absent, though.

His hands were all over her body, touching spots she had no idea could be erogenous, but which had her repeatedly arching up off the bed, seeking more. She wanted to touch him, too, but somehow every time she went to caress him, she lost her focus and her hands ended up resting against his chest, kneading like a cat with her short nails.

He seemed to like that, groaning against her lips, moving his body to spread her legs and press his erection firmly against her most tender flesh. Randi went taut with pleasure as he somehow managed to maneuver his erection against her clitoris in mock coupling, thrusting against her and stimulating her so well she cried out with the joy of it.

Randi gasped out her pleasure at the amazing feeling. “Baz! Oh...” It was too good, too much, her body racking with shudders of ecstasy.

“You are so deliciously responsive, Miranda.” His voice deep with approval and husky desire, Baz continued to thrust against her, his big hands inciting her pleasure with incredible knowledge of the female body and what would feel good.

She tossed her head on the fluffy pillows, feeling like she needed something more, but unwilling to change what was already giving her so much marvelous sensation. “You’re really good at this.”

“This?” he teased, gently rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger.

Oh, wow. That was... It was... Even her inner monologue could not come up with the right adjectives. She’d never before realized the direct line between the turgid peaks and her feminine sex. Sure, it felt good to be touched there, but never like lightning was striking through her body.

“Yes, that and all of it.”

“It is easy to give pleasure when it is so well received.”

“Are you saying I’m easy?” she gasped out, teasing and not.

She’d never found it so simple to give in, to allow a man so close so fast. This whole conflagration between their bodies was entirely outside her experience.

Sex was not all that.

Only now it was. Now it was everything. Necessary.

“I would never be so crass.”

That was not a denial. She met his gaze earnestly. “I’m not, you know.”

“Not?”

“Easy. I don’t do one-night stands.”

“Good, but fair warning—I have no intention of stopping at one night with you.”

He wasn’t offering anything long-term. How could he? He lived in Spain. She lived in Portland. He was a powerful billionaire. A social worker turned shelter manager had no place in his glittery life, but for now? She did.

She fit in this ridiculously expensive bed he’d bought for the night.

Her body fit under his. Her lips fit perfectly against his.

His mouth owned hers and she let it. Knowing this was temporary, but not a single night, gave her the confidence to let go in a way she had not before, and probably wouldn’t again, with anyone else.

She responded to his kiss, parting her lips, inviting his tongue inside, letting hers explore his mouth, shivering with feeling as the kiss morphed into something crazy passionate. Her body melted into the bed under him, accommodating his hard planes with every cell.

He lifted up enough to pull her toward him so he could remove that last piece of clothing she was wearing, her bra.

When he let her settle back against the pillows, Randi reached down between them and grasped his erection, the heated, satiny skin warming her palm.

He thrust up into her fist. “Sí! Que es tan bueno.”

It was good. All of it. Randi loved knowing she could elicit such a pleasurable response, that her touch impacted him as surely as his touch made Randi lose her mind.

“I want this inside me.” She squeezed the hard column of flesh once...twice, again.

Baz let out a guttural sound that sent response arcing through Randi. He reared back but didn’t pull his sex from her hand, though she got the sense that was his initial intent. “Let me get a condom.”

“You just carry them around with you?”

“I do, in fact, always have one in my wallet.” He shrugged. “I am a man.”

“We’re going to need more.” No way was a single time going to be enough tonight. Not for such a sexually ardent lover.

“I’ll take care of that later.” His smile was all predatory male.

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