‘I can see only one way to secure their happiness …’ Georgina paused, refusing to be drawn. ‘And to satisfy your insatiable need for business success.’

Santos leant forward at his desk. ‘And that is?’

‘You get married first, inherit the business, leaving them to enjoy a happy married life together.’

He looked at her, his handsome face set in a mask so emotionless she blinked in shock. Did this man not have any compassion in his heart?

‘As you seem to have it all worked out, who do you suggest I marry?’ The question came out slowly, as if he was sure he’d foiled her plan.

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. She mustn’t show any nerves, any fear. He was like a predatory lion and she knew he’d smell it.

‘Me.’

RACHAEL THOMAS was born in Cheltenham, but grew up in Worcester. As a young child she loved to read and make up stories. For as long as she can remember she’s wanted to be a writer. As a teenager she became an avid reader of Mills & Boon®, borrowing endless copies from her local library—a place she loved to be.

In her early twenties she moved to Wales, where she met and married her own hero—which meant embarking on the biggest learning curve of her life as she settled in to her new role as a farmer’s wife. When her two children were in primary school she decided it was time to rekindle her dreams of being a writer.

It took almost seven years to realise those dreams, but along the way she’s met some wonderful people, travelled to amazing places and had a fabulous time. When she entered her story into Harlequin’s So You Think You Can Write contest she never for one moment imagined a publishing contract would be the result. Now she’s thrilled to have achieved her dream, and to be writing for her favourite Mills & Boon line is the icing on the cake.

She loves to contrast her daily life on the farm by spending time creating irresistible heroes and determined heroines whose love affairs play out in glamorous settings. You can visit her website at www.rachaelthomas.co.uk

This is Rachael’s debut story— we hope you love it as much as we do!

A Deal Before the Altar

Rachael Thomas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To my family and friends, who have supported me always as I’ve pursued my dream,

and to the wonderful friendships I’ve made along the way.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

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

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

GEORGINA ENTERED THE sleek luxury of the office and knew she was being watched. Her every step scrutinised by a man who was revered and feared by businessmen and women alike.

‘Ms Henshaw.’ His deep voice, with a hint of accent, was firm and commanding. ‘I don’t think I need to ask why you are here.’

He leant against his desk, arms folded across his broad chest, as if he’d already decided he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. His black hair gleamed, but the intensity in his eyes nearly robbed her of the ability to speak.

‘I’m sure you don’t, Mr Ramirez.’ She injected as much firmness into her voice as she could, determined she wouldn’t be dismissed before she’d said all she had to say. ‘You are, after all, the cause of the problem.’

‘Am I indeed?’ Santos Lopez Ramirez locked his gaze with hers and for a moment she almost lost her nerve. Almost.

She studied his face, looking for a hint of compassion, but there was nothing. His mouth was set in a firm line that highlighted the harsh angles of his cheekbones, softened only slightly by his tanned complexion. His jaw was cleanshaven, but she didn’t miss the way he clenched it, as if biting back his words.

‘You know you are.’ She paused briefly before continuing. ‘You are the one person who is preventing Emma and Carlo from doing what they want.’

‘So what are you going to do about it, Ms Henshaw?’

As he raised his brows in question a flutter of nerves took flight in her stomach. But now was the time to be the woman the world thought she was—the cold and manipulative woman who took exactly what she wanted in life and discarded what she didn’t.

‘I will do whatever it takes to make it happen, Mr Ramirez.’

The butterflies dissipated as she thought of Emma, of all the dreams of a fairytale wedding her younger sister so often spoke about. Her own ideas of love and happiness had long since been shattered, but she wanted her sister to find that dream.

‘That’s a very bold statement.’

Bold. Stupid. It didn’t matter what he thought. All she cared about was Emma’s happiness—happiness was something neither of them had experienced much of in recent years.

‘I’m a very bold woman, Mr Ramirez.’

He smiled. An indolent smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat and nerves almost swarmed over her as he unfolded his arms and took a purposeful step towards her.

‘I admire that in a woman.’

Tall and unyielding, he stood before her. And despite the spacious office, the wall of windows and the sparse furnishings, he dominated the room.

She stood her ground, refusing to move, to be intimidated. ‘Your admiration is not the reason I’m here.’

‘I don’t have time for games, Ms Henshaw.’

‘I have a deal to put to you, Mr Ramirez.’ He couldn’t dismiss her yet. It had been hard enough getting past his secretary, and she didn’t intend to waste the opportunity.

‘A deal?’

‘I meant what I said.’ She spoke firmly, determined he should never know just how anxious she was, how desperate to achieve her aim. ‘I will do whatever it takes.’

* * *

Santos took in the determined jut of the brunette’s chin. She looked so arrogantly sure of herself that he wondered if she was going to start the Paso Doble right there in his office.

Lust hurtled through his body at the images such thoughts brought to mind.

‘And why would you want to do that?’

Santos returned to his chair and sat down, his gaze running over her body. The charcoal skirt and jacket, although professional and businesslike, did little to disguise her womanly figure. The tantalising hint of a lace camisole beneath the jacket caught his eye, but it was the heels she wore that stole the show. Her designer leopard print heels not only spoke volumes about the real woman, but showcased the most fantastic pair of legs he’d seen in ages. He was entranced, but it was the attitude radiating from her glorious body that really intrigued him.

‘Emma is my sister and I want her to be happy.’

The intensity of her gaze as she spoke only aroused his interest further.

‘I’ll do anything to achieve that.’

He rose from his chair, his body suddenly restless, to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. He surveyed the view of London glinting in the autumn sunshine, recalling all he’d discovered about the sister of quiet and demure Emma, the woman his half-brother Carlo was currently dating. A situation that had thrown everything into turmoil.

This woman certainly had a reputation. Widowed at twenty-three, and having been left a substantial fortune, she now led a socialite lifestyle and was never short of male company. A mercenary woman, if the circumstances of her marriage were to be believed.

‘And just how far are you prepared to go in the name of sisterly love?’

Behind him he heard her intake of breath and knew he’d touched a nerve. A stab of desire shot through him as he imagined her sighing in pleasure as he kissed her. Quickly he regained control. Now was not a good time to find himself attracted to a woman—especially one with such a tarnished and scandalous reputation. He had a business to run. One that was a contentious issue between himself and Carlo. One he had to find a solution to quickly. Time was running out.

‘As I have already said, Mr Ramirez, I will do whatever it takes.’ Her voice had a slightly husky quality to it, which threatened to undo his control, so he remained focused on the view of London a moment longer.

Finally he turned to face her, strode across the thick carpet until he stood at her side, his right arm almost touching her shoulder. He looked sideways down at her, catching her light floral scent as he did so. Not the sort usually favoured by a woman of her reputation—it was soft and very feminine.

‘So you agree with their plans to marry...your sister and my brother?’

She stood firm, like a soldier on parade being inspected by a commanding officer. He walked slowly round behind her, admiration building. She didn’t flinch, didn’t move. His gaze was drawn to the streaks of fiery red which entwined in her hair and again he thought of her in his bed, hair wildly fanned out across the pillow.

‘Why shouldn’t they get married?’

Her words drew him sharply back. ‘They are young,’ he said quietly, and walked away from her. Being close distracted him, took his mind from the current problem to more primal matters. ‘Too young.’

‘They are in love.’ The words flew at him across the room with such passion that he stopped to look at her, wondering if she was as indifferent and in control as she wanted him to think. He looked at her beautiful face, the firm set of her full lips and the haughty rise of her brows. Had he just imagined that spark of passion? Conjured it up because of the direction his thoughts had gone? He must have done. As she stood before him she was not only sculpted from ice but frozen to the core.

A challenge indeed.

‘And you believe in love, do you?’ All through his younger years he’d been introduced to an endless stream of his father’s girlfriends. Then as a teenager he’d watched from the sidelines as his father had fallen under the spell of a younger woman. The love they’d shared and later bestowed on Carlo, his new brother, had been incomprehensible to him. It had done little to instil ideas of love and happiness in him.

‘About as much as you do.’

Her gaze met his, stubbornly holding it, provoking him to deny it.

‘Very perceptive, Ms Henshaw. We are, then, kindred spirits, able to enjoy the opposite sex without the drama of emotional attachment.’

This was always the attitude he’d adopted, and one that had begun to feel less and less favourable. But the idea of being so captivated by a woman, so completely under her spell it would make a man turn his back on his son, was even less appealing.

‘Put like that, then, yes, I suppose we are.’

* * *

Georgina cringed inwardly, knowing exactly what he was referring to. Was he really going to drag up her past, use it as a reason to stop his brother from marrying Emma? She wouldn’t let him—not when she now knew the real reason he didn’t want them to marry. She had to change his mind.

For a moment her nerves almost got the better of her. There was only one option she could think of to secure her sister’s happiness, and although it didn’t sit well with her she had to persuade him it was possible.

‘What exactly is it you want, Ms Henshaw?’

A distanced, almost bored tone had entered his voice and she watched him stalk back to the windows, looking more like a caged animal than a businessman.

‘I want to put a business proposition to you.’

He turned instantly, his interest piqued, and she stifled a smile of triumph. She was now talking his language. Business was what made this man tick. That was obvious.

‘A proposition? You?’

He moved back to his desk and gestured her to sit, the muscles of his arm rippling beneath his white shirt snagging her attention. Mentally she shook herself. Getting distracted by his good looks would not help her through this. And hadn’t she told herself months ago that relationships were not what she needed?

‘I’d prefer to stand,’ she said firmly, not missing the quirk of his dark brows.

‘As you wish.’

He sat behind his desk, his dark eyes watching her. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her. She had to remain as calm and detached as possible. So much was riding on her being able to deliver her proposition in an efficient, businesslike manner.

‘I want my sister to be happy, and Carlo makes her happy.’ She tried to keep her voice steady and devoid of emotion. This hard businessman obviously believed all that was written about her in the press. He believed she was cast from the same mould as him. ‘From my understanding of the situation, there is only one solution.’

He didn’t say a word, waiting for her to continue. His silence unnerved her, but she had to stay strong, remain focused.

Quickly she pressed on. ‘I know about the condition in your father’s will.’

‘You are very well informed of my affairs, Ms Henshaw, but I fail to see what business of yours that is.’

His hard expression gave her a glimpse of the formidable businessman he was. She’d done her research on him. ‘I know you have built your business up to the international concern it is today since your father passed away, and that once either you or Carlo marry the business will pass solely to that brother.’ She paused, almost wanting to give up as she looked at him, his dark eyes as bleak as a starless night.

‘Full marks for research,’ he said, his voice as emotionless as she hoped hers was.

It had been Emma who had told her about the condition of the will. She’d sobbed for the loss of her dreams of marrying the man she loved, dreams of living happily ever after with Carlo, just because of the greed of his elder brother.

‘I also know Carlo doesn’t share your appetite for success. He has little or no interest in the business, wanting only to live a normal life married to my sister.’

‘A normal life?’

She knew he was stalling, being evasive. Wouldn’t she hate it if he picked apart her private affairs? But she had to carry on before she lost all confidence in her plan. For Emma she had to do it, just as she’d had to five years ago.

‘A life that isn’t centred on a business but one that is centred on a happy family home.’ The words flowed from her with practised ease.

‘And an example of that would be your own family, would it?’

She felt her eyes widen, shocked he’d brought it up. ‘I see you have done your own research, Mr Ramirez, but my parents’ marriage has nothing to do with Emma and Carlo.’

‘I have no wish for my family name to be joined by marriage to a woman’s whose mother is an alcoholic and whose father has been absent so long nobody knows where he is.’

‘So it has nothing to do with your power-hungry need to take the business from Carlo by preventing this marriage?’ Her heartbeat was rising and her emotions were beginning to take over. She had to remain composed.

‘They have sent you here to plead their case, have they?’

He glowered at her. But her last words seemed only to have bounced off his tough exterior. She took a deep breath, wanting to appear poised before she spoke again.

He laced his long tanned fingers together in front of him on the desk in a relaxed fashion, but Georgina knew he was anything but relaxed. The firm set of his broad shoulders gave that away. He was confident, self-assured and powerful.

‘On the contrary, Mr Ramirez, they have no idea I’m here and I want it to stay that way.’

One dark brow quirked up, but he said nothing.

‘I can see only one way to secure their happiness...’ She paused, refusing to be drawn. ‘And to satisfy your insatiable need for business success.’

He leant forward at his desk. ‘And that is?’

‘You get married first, inherit the business, and leave them to enjoy a happy married life together.’

As he looked at her his handsome face set in a mask so emotionless she blinked in shock. Did this man not have any compassion in his heart?

‘As you seem to have it all worked out, who do you suggest I marry?’ The question came out slowly, as if he was sure he’d foiled her plan.

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. She mustn’t show any nerves, any fear. He was like a predatory lion and she knew he’d smell it.

‘Me.’

There—she’d said it. And now she had she wanted to bolt like a frightened animal. He didn’t say a word. Not a trace of emotion could be seen on his face. Silence hung between them, and a tension so taut she thought it was going to snap with a crack at any moment.

* * *

Shock rocked through Santos as he listened to her ridiculous proposition. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear, but then her reputation should have given him forewarning. She already had one marriage behind her—one that had made her a very wealthy woman indeed. And if rumour was to be believed it had not been a love-match.

‘Why, exactly, would I wish to get married? And to you, of all women?’

His voice was hard, his accent suddenly more pronounced. He sounded dangerous.

Briefly Santos saw pain flash across her face, saw the curling of her manicured fingers and wished the words unsaid. Marriage was the one thing he wanted to avoid at all costs, but even though his legal team were working on a solution he had to consider the option. If he wanted to save his business, and the last five years of hard work since his father had first become ill, he might actually have to take a wife. So wouldn’t this woman, who had so willingly walked into the lion’s den, be the perfect choice? Costly, maybe, if her track record was anything to go by, but he could deal with that.

‘It wouldn’t be a marriage in the true sense of the word.’

Her words, spoken with conviction, dragged his attention back to her face.

‘And what is that?’

‘A marriage for love, of course—like the one your brother and my sister wish to make. A commitment for life.’ Her words flowed freely, and once again he thought he heard a spark of passion.

Suspiciously he looked at her as he sat back again in his chair. ‘You are not looking for love, Ms Henshaw?’

‘Not at all, Mr Ramirez. I only want my sister’s happiness. I will do anything to achieve that. Once they are married we can annul our marriage and go separate ways.

Santos considered this wild suggestion more seriously. Would it hurt to go along with it for now—to have another option if his legal team were unable to sort out an alternative?

‘And you would want what, exactly, from this marriage?’ His mind raced. On a business level it made perfect sense. He would finally have the security of inheriting the business he’d built up and would have done his duty by his brother, freeing Carlo of obligations he had little or no interest in.

‘I want nothing from you other than our names on a marriage certificate. Once that is done we need not see each other. We just apply for an annulment.’

Her voice had hardened and his past rushed back at him. He saw the teenager who had hardly grieved for his controlling mother. Felt the pain as his father eventually remarried and moved on with a loving and kind woman whom Santos had resented. A woman who had changed his father, almost taking him away from his firstborn with the power of her love.

‘I find that hard to believe. You must want something.’ Experience had taught him that. Everyone wanted something. Everyone had a price.

‘Nothing more than I’ve already stated.’

Her cool, calm words sounded believable.

Santos thought of the conditions of the will and gritted his teeth against the memory of the day he’d realised what his manipulative father had done. It seemed this attractive woman knew a lot about the will, but she didn’t know it all. She hadn’t mentioned the other conditions that he would have to meet before finally inheriting. It wasn’t as simple as marriage.

‘I require more than that. My wife, when I take one, will be a wife in every sense of the word.’

Did she really think he was going to accept her proposition meekly, without attaching his own conditions? If he had to get married he’d rather do it for business than become as vulnerable as his father had after his second marriage. There was also the matter that he was a hot-blooded male and this woman had stirred his blood the second she’d walked proudly into his office.

Santos watched as realisation dawned on her pretty face, followed by defeat. But he said nothing more. To do so now would be to show his hand. He would never give away the fact that he actually saw her proposition as a serious option—his back-up plan.

‘I can’t do that.’ She gasped the words out, her face whitening before his eyes.

‘Then your very first words to me were lies.’

Part of him felt relieved. She hadn’t really been serious. But another part of him, the deal-chaser, wanted this—but on his terms. Marriage would not only secure the business but would put a stop to the endless rounds of parties. It would enhance his image in the business world, giving him what appeared to be a happy marriage, and it would mean he didn’t have to get emotionally involved. Something he avoided at all costs.

She still hadn’t spoken so he carried on, pushing forward his conditions, turning it completely to his advantage. ‘That is the only deal I’m prepared to make.’

* * *

Georgina’s heart sank. Was he seriously suggesting a real marriage—one that would entail her being at his side publicly and sleeping in his bed at night?

‘We know nothing of each other.’ She grabbed at the first thing that came to mind.

‘On the contrary, Georgina. I think we both know enough.’

The use of her name sent a warm tingle down her spine. His gaze fixed on hers so intently she felt as if he was physically holding her captive. Her pulse-rate leapt, then beat hard as she thought of spending the night in his bed, of being his wife in every sense of the word.

She couldn’t banish the image of him with one of his model-like women hanging on his arm. Would such a man as Santos Ramirez even want to be seen publicly with her? Worse still, would he find her lacking as a lover? No, lover wasn’t the right word. Would he find her lacking as a sexual partner?

‘I know that the world would never be fooled into thinking we had married for any other reason than convenience.’ She clutched awkwardly at excuses as she still struggled to take in what he wanted.

‘And that would be because you have already been married and widowed purely for financial gain.’

Pain lanced through her as she thought of Richard Henshaw—the man she’d married because she had been genuinely fond of him. The same man who had given her stability and security in her life for the first time ever. In that moment she hated Santos more than any other man for bringing Richard into it.

‘No.’ Her voice filled with entreaty. ‘Because I am nothing like the type of woman you date.’

He raised a brow, and a slight smile teased at the corners of his lips. ‘As far as people would know I’d have become besotted with you exactly because you are not like any woman I have ever dated.’

‘Would you really want people to think that instead of thinking we were married in name only to keep your business?’

‘I have no intention of anyone ever thinking I have married for business gain only.’ He looked steadily at her. ‘Especially Carlo.’

Georgina couldn’t take it in. Her whole plan had been turned upside down. He’d taken complete and utter control of the situation and turned it into something she just couldn’t think of doing.

‘How is that achievable?’

She struggled to comprehend how Emma would ever believe she had married such a man simply because she wanted to. Not now Emma knew all about her first marriage and the reasons behind it.

‘You said that nobody knows you are here—is that not true?’

‘No, nobody,’ she replied, trying to grasp where this was leading.

‘Good,’ he said, and stood up, making her feel small and insignificant as he moved around his desk to stand before her once more. ‘I will host a party tomorrow evening, to which you and Emma are invited.’

‘How is that going to help?’ Georgina couldn’t figure out where he was going with this.

He smiled. A lazy smile that did nothing to hide his amusement at the situation. ‘We won’t be able to leave each other alone; the attraction will be obvious to all there. Then we will spend the entire weekend together, maybe longer, after which we shall make the announcement.’

The tone of his voice had changed, giving it a warm depth, and she had the distinct impression that if he was really attracted to her she would be unable to resist. A tingle shimmied down her spine, causing her pulse-rate to leap—which had nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with the dark and possibly dangerous man who watched her intently.

‘Okay,’ she said quickly, aware that her voice had become a husky whisper. She wanted to push on with her plans but hoped she could change his mind later. A real marriage surely wasn’t necessary. ‘We’ll do it your way.’

‘There was never any doubt about that, querida.’

CHAPTER TWO

GEORGINA’S ANXIETY LEVELS had risen tenfold since entering the hotel where Santos was having his impromptu party. Her sister, who was so excited, believing a party meant there was hope for her and Carlo to be married, had vanished from her side the moment they arrived. Georgina now felt conspicuous as she stood just inside the doorway of the hotel room.

‘Buenas noches, Ms Henshaw.’

She looked up at Santos, her breath catching as he moved closer to her. He was immaculately dressed in a dark suit and tie, the white of his shirt enhancing his attractive tan. The smile on his lips was warm and welcoming. That same warmth reached his eyes as he took her hand. The touch of his fingers as he lightly held hers made her shiver, as if a feather had been trailed down her spine.

Speak, she told herself firmly. Don’t let his act of attraction distract you.

‘Good evening, Mr Ramirez,’ she said, injecting firmness into her voice as she remembered they were not yet supposed to have met. She certainly didn’t want Emma to discover what she was about to do. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you at last.’

He quirked a brow, and she wondered if she’d gone too far, but around her they were already drawing speculative gazes. It seemed to Georgina that the elite of London society were here—and all at his request.

‘Please, call me Santos,’ he said as he lifted her hand to his lips.

Her stomach did a strange flutter as those lips brushed sensuously over the back of her hand. Stunned into silence, she was mesmerised by his dark hair as he lowered his head. The barely controlled waves of shiny black hair looked so inviting she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. Then he straightened, towering over her once more, his gaze locking with hers.

Don’t go there, she warned herself, and tried to pull back her hand, but his fingers tightened on hers. A sexy smile spread across his lips and she dragged in a ragged breath, then swallowed hard. What was she doing, allowing this man to get to her?

‘The pleasure is mine.’ His words were deep and uneven. He didn’t let her hand go, instead forcing her to stay, so that she could do nothing other than stand there. She looked into the ever darkening depths of his eyes and felt a sizzle of awareness slide over her like the slow thaw of mountain snow. Shy and flustered was something she’d never felt—but, far worse, she knew she was already out of her depth. How was she ever going to get through the evening when he turned on charm like this?

She would because she had to. She was doing this for Emma’s happiness. She clutched her bag, thinking of the few essentials she’d slipped into it, knowing she wasn’t going to be returning home that night.

She smiled, more to herself than anyone else, determined not to let this man’s charisma knock her off balance. It was all for show, and if he could do it then so could she.

‘Something is amusing you?’ His fingers traced a slow, teasing circle on the palm of her hand, making tingles race along her arm. She wanted to pull away, wanted to break the contact, yet couldn’t. Somewhere deep inside her something stirred—an emotion long since locked away.

‘I was merely admiring your charm.’ She smiled up at him, pulling herself closer against him. It felt flirty. Dangerous. ‘I’m sure women just drop at your feet.’

He laughed. A soft rumble that made her tremble. Instinctively she tried to pull her hand free. Again his fingers tightened and his eyes darkened, and for a moment her eyes locked with his. She drew in a quick breath as she saw the sparks of desire within those dark depths. Her body responded to the primal call of his as heady heat thundered around her.

‘That is always my intention, querida.’

He smiled down at her, letting her hand go so that she felt suddenly bereft of his contact—like a ship torn from its anchor to drift in the harbour.

‘Champagne?’

She blinked, not quite able to keep up with his train of thought. Glancing around her, she caught her sister’s eye as she chatted with other guests, Carlo at her side. Emma looked radiant and happy, and Georgina knew there was no going back now. Just as she had done five years ago, she had to put Emma first. She’d done it once, and she could do it again, but Emma must never know.

‘Champagne would be lovely,’ she purred, being as flirtatious as she possibly could. Maybe a little champagne was just what she needed to boost her confidence.

With his hand in the small of her back she moved into the room, aware of the curious glances being directed their way. Santos handed her a flute of champagne, but her head was becoming light, as if she’d already had several glasses of the bubbly liquid. She couldn’t quite believe how this handsome and powerful businessman was able to make her feel so special, so fresh and alive. His charm offensive was potent, making her feel unique and, worse than that, desired. If this was how he was going to play out their planned public scene of attraction she would have to be careful, remind herself it was all an act. Because right now it felt very real. And she liked it.

* * *

Santos couldn’t help but watch Georgina as she sipped her champagne. The need to act as if he were attracted to her had gone out of the window the moment she’d entered the room. He’d heard the hush, felt the ripple of interest, and had been as mesmerised by her as every other man in the room.

Still looking as proud and defiant as she had yesterday in his office, she’d stood framed in the doorway. The jade silk of her dress skimmed over her body, neither revealing nor concealing her curves. A black wrap hung loosely off her shoulders, and he’d been unable to take his eyes off the creamy expanse of her skin, broken only by the thin jade straps. Her neck was bare of any jewellery—something many of the women he knew couldn’t carry off.

Even if he hadn’t had to go up to her and start the charade of attraction he would have wanted to. The same kick of lust he’d felt yesterday had stirred in his veins once again, propelling him towards her. As he’d taken her hand, enjoying the softness of her skin, he had known he wanted her.

‘Your plan is working.’ He leant down and whispered against her hair, the fresh scent of it invading his senses, making his pulse throb with unquenched desire.

She pulled back from him, confusion filling her eyes, her fingers clutching tightly to her glass. ‘It is?’

He heard the uncertainty in her voice and had the strangest desire to stroke his fingers down her cheek. An affectionate gesture he’d never normally think of making. Just what was it about this woman that stirred something unknown deep within him?

‘With your dedication to the role, how could anyone question what they are seeing?’ She turned away, exchanging her empty glass for another bubble-filled one.

The brittleness of her words reminded him just who he was dealing with. Georgina Henshaw was an avaricious woman who, with one marriage already behind her, could play his game with as much detachment as he employed.

He watched her beautiful yet emotionless face as she scanned the room, her eyes finally resting on her sister. With a sternness that would have become any teacher her gaze followed Emma as she moved across the room, until she nestled herself against his brother.

Unable to stop himself from watching the loving moment, he saw how his brother looked down at Emma. Saw the open adoration in the young woman’s eyes. Even as Carlo dipped his head and kissed her he couldn’t avert his gaze. Whatever it was between them was so powerful he felt it from the other side of the room. Just as he had done as a youth, when Carlo’s mother had first met his father, he felt excluded. It was almost as if he’d gone back in time, watching Carlo grow strong from his mother’s love while he could only look on.

‘They make a good couple, don’t they?’

Georgina’s words dragged him back from a past he rarely visited. For a moment he was disorientated.

‘They don’t have to marry to prove that.’

He couldn’t keep the harshness from his words. Beside him Georgina stiffened, as if she was taking a step back from him. He forced his mind to more pleasant thoughts—like the way the woman at his side stirred his desires like no other.

‘I hope you aren’t going back on our deal, Mr Ramirez?’

He deflected her sharp-toned words with a smile. ‘Santos,’ he said softly, placing his arm across her shoulders and pulling her body against his, relishing the warmth of it. ‘I think you should call me Santos. If you want this to work.’

He looked down into her upturned face. Her eyes darkened until they reminded him of the depths of a forest. Her full lips parted slightly and he felt the heavy tug of desire.

He wanted her.

Slowly he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. Her breath mingled with his, warming his mouth, and he imagined the sensation of her sighing in pleasure. This was going to be a very interesting night.

Briefly her lips responded. Softening beneath his. And his whole body suddenly ached for hers. It was stronger than the heady lust that usually coursed through his blood when he kissed a woman. This was potent. Vibrant and alive. It was more powerful than anything he’d known before.

* * *

Georgina’s body heated as his lips touched hers, the contact so light it almost didn’t happen. Involuntarily she closed her eyes as the liquid warmth of desire slid over her. She swayed closer to him, felt his arm, strong and firm, draw her closer.

She knew there and then that he had power over her. He had the ability to stir emotions she never again wanted to explore, and she would have to be on her guard.

Her fingers clutched the stem of the glass in her hand as she hardened herself against what she was feeling. This wasn’t for real. This was all an act. And if she didn’t keep that in mind she’d make a fool of herself, because at this moment in time she wanted nothing more than to be kissed by Santos.

Not this light, lingering kiss. After several years without experiencing the intimacy of any kiss she knew he’d awakened something deep within her. She wanted more. Her body hungered for passion. To her horror, she realised her body hungered for him.

But she couldn’t let that happen. She had to stay in control—not just of herself, but of the situation. Never could she allow herself to become a woman so desperate for love that she’d beg a man to stay, as her mother had done to her father. In Santos she recognised the same inability to commit to a relationship her father had possessed. He would be the worst man for her to give her heart to.

No, to allow Santos to know just how easily he could stir her hidden and unexplored desires would be fatal.

She pulled away from him and looked into his smouldering eyes. He was good. Nobody could question what he was thinking right now. He looked as if he wanted to ravish her right there in the middle of the party.

A tingle raced around her at the thought and her breathing deepened. It was as if her body was working in opposition to her heart and her head, and it was winning.

She flirted back at him, ignoring the heavy ache of her limbs and the throb of desire deep inside her. ‘Santos, that was...’ She paused and looked beyond him into the throng of partygoers who mingled around them, looked to her sister. ‘Amazing,’ she finished, hoping he’d think the husky note in her voice was part of her act and not something she had little or no control over—a reaction to him.

‘Amazing, huh?’

His voice was deeper and his accent, which had only been a hint before, much stronger. He sounded sexy. Too sexy.

‘Definitely. Emma looks so shocked. I’m certain she’ll believe there is something between us.’ She moved against him as she spoke, felt the firmness of his body and tried to ignore the sizzle of electricity zipping around hers.

‘And what about you, querida? Do you believe it?’

He smiled down at her, pulling her just a little closer, so that she could feel her breasts pressing against his chest. Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she couldn’t say a word.

Focus, she reminded herself. Focus on why you’re even here with him.

‘I believe we look convincing.’ She hated the way her voice stammered, and to hide it lifted her chin and raised a brow at him.

He laughed. A soft sound she felt rumbling against her. It was all too close, too personal. She tried to step back from him but he pressed his hand firmly into the small of her back, bringing her hip close against him.

She gasped as she felt the hardness of his arousal, and nerves made her heart beat wildly—so hard she could feel the pulse in her neck throbbing. His dark eyes, smouldering with desire, met hers.

‘I too am convinced.’

His voice was a harsh whisper as he spoke against her ear, his breath blowing on her neck, making it tingle.

‘I am also convinced that now would be a good time to leave this damned party.’

She turned her head towards him, intending to speak, to try and douse the fire that had ignited between them. A fire she could never allow to burn. Her cheek touched his as he lowered his head and, following some kind of instinct she’d never before experienced, she moved until his lips were against hers.

Briefly her gaze locked with his, then her eyelids fluttered closed as the pressure of his lips met hers. The kiss was hard, demanding much more. She wound her arms around his neck, one hand still clutching her empty champagne flute, and gave herself up to the mastery of this man’s kiss. Her lips and her body asked for more and he responded, making her heart thump hard.

His tongue slid into her mouth, entwining with hers. He tasted wild and untamed. She sighed, making him deepen the kiss, and he began to invade every cell of her body with a heady desire she’d never known before.

Heaven help her, she wanted this man. Wanted him in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

Just when she thought she couldn’t remain standing against him any longer he broke the kiss. She slid her arms down slowly from his neck and he took the glass from her hand, putting it on a nearby table. Cool air rushed around her as their bodies parted and she felt exposed, naked, as if everyone in the room would be able to see just how much her body wanted his.

Santos’s gaze slid over her, just as it had done when she’d entered the room, but this time her skin sizzled. When it lingered on her breasts her knees weakened and breathing was suddenly the hardest thing to do. She was transfixed, unable to move, unable to hide from his open desire.

Around them the noise of the party slowly came back to her and she was thankful that they were not alone. What would she have done if they were?

She’d have made a big mistake, that was what. She would have allowed passion and champagne to take over, allowed them to destroy everything, exposing emotions and leaving her vulnerable. She’d seen it with her mother, knew the consequences, and had promised herself she’d never allow that to happen to her.

‘We leave now.’

His voice, though still deep and throaty, radiated total command and, afraid hers would sound weak and trembling, she nodded in agreement.

With his hand possessively in the small of her back he propelled her towards the door. Partygoers stepped aside for them. Envious glances from women came her way. The cool façade she lived behind slipped firmly back into place. She lifted her chin, smiled, and walked proudly at Santos’s side.

What would they think if they knew the truth? Would they gasp in shock at the calculated plan she was acting out?

‘Georgie?’ Emma’s voice filtered through the defensive wall she’d quickly rebuilt, despite the hum of her body.

She looked into her sister’s face and saw genuine happiness. It shone from her eyes so brightly that she knew she was doing the right thing. She touched Emma’s arm and gave her a secretive smile. The smile of a woman who was being swept away by the most magnetic man she’d ever met.

‘I’ll call you in the morning.’

Emma’s smile widened and she looked from her to Santos and back again. ‘Okay.’ She grinned and turned to leave, obviously in a hurry to tell Carlo.

‘Let’s go,’ Georgina said, without looking at Santos. The taste of deception was strong in her mouth.

‘I like it.’

His voice purred like a big cat content to take it easy for a while. He led her out of the noise of the party into the hotel foyer. The lights were brighter—too bright—as if she was now under his spotlight. His gaze slid down her again, desire still sparking in his eyes despite the latent control in his voice.

‘What do you like?’ she questioned sharply as he began to lead her out onto the streets. She shivered against the cold autumn air.

‘Georgie.’

Emma’s pet name for her sounded so exotic on his lips—sexy, even. Her body heated despite the wind, which blew her hair quickly into disarray. She combed her fingers through it, gathering it at her neck, trying to prevent herself from becoming a totally dishevelled mess.

‘I prefer Georgina,’ she said, trying to ignore the way her body hummed as he took her hand and pulled her close against him. Was this what it was like to be protected?

Minutes later she was in the back of his chauffeur-driven car. The light from the streetlamps cast a glow around the interior and she glanced at Santos, startled to find he was watching her intently.

She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap, unable to look into the heat of his eyes.

‘You are a very beautiful woman.’

Georgina tensed. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. ‘You can drop the act now.’ Her words were stiff and she looked up at his face. The angles of his cheekbones were severe in the ever-changing light.

‘I’m enjoying the role.’ His deep voice seemed to ripple around the car, sending pinpricks of heat rushing over her. ‘And you never know who may be listening or watching.’

Georgina glanced at the chauffeur, who appeared to be concentrating on driving. She heard Santos laugh softly and her gaze flew to meet his once more. He really was charming—but on a lethal level. Somewhere deep inside her she recognised him as the kind of man who could hurt her or, worse, destroy her. He was the same type of devil-may-care man her mother had fallen for time and time again, and exactly like her father.

‘You don’t really think I’ll buy that, do you?’ She raised a brow at him, infusing indifference into her body with each syllable.

Cool and aloof. That was the protection she needed.

‘My staff are nothing but discreet,’ he replied as the car came to a stop outside some very exclusive riverside apartments.

‘That is a relief—but then I suppose I’m just another on a very long list as far as they are concerned.’ The haughty demeanour she routinely hid behind sounded in her voice, and from the look on his face, the frown that furrowed his brow, she knew she’d scored a direct hit.

With one final look at her he got out of the car, almost instantly appearing at her door. He held out his hand for her, but the look on his face suggested he was far from happy. For a moment she was worried. Had she pushed things just a little too far, taunting him like that? A man like him was used to people pandering to his ego.

She had the sudden urge to bolt past him and run away. Reason followed swiftly. She wouldn’t help her sister like that, and the shoes she was wearing certainly hadn’t been created for running.

‘If you want to drop this charade you can go home now.’ His voice was rough, edged with exasperation. ‘But just remember, querida, it was your idea.’

He was right. She had started this and she would finish it—but only when she knew her sister could marry the man she loved without any implications from this power-hungry man who now stood waiting for her, looking devastatingly sexy. Did he really mean to keep this up, even in private?

For a moment she wondered if she’d already done enough. They’d been seen leaving the party together. Then she remembered Emma’s smile, the hope that had shone from her eyes. Georgina realised that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, whether they believed their whirlwind romance was real. It only mattered what Emma thought. There was no way she could let her sister think that yet again she was marrying to secure her future. Emma was all she cared about.

She could do this—even if it meant continuing with the charade of attraction.

Taking his hand, she stepped out of the car and looked up at the tall modern building. She’d never given any thought to where he might live, but the clean, precise lines of this apartment block didn’t surprise her.

‘I suppose you have the top floor, complete with river views?’

‘Very perceptive of you.’

His voice had lowered to a steely tone, interwoven with charm, and her stomach fluttered irrationally.

‘It seems you do know something about me after all.’

Yes, I do. I know too much. I know you have an abundance of charm and the ability to break a woman’s heart.

‘It was merely an observation.’ Georgina kept the words light as he gestured her towards the entrance of the building. She was beginning to feel disorientated by him, by his seductive tone and sexy smiles. She couldn’t allow that to happen. As far as she was concerned once his name was on their marriage certificate and her sister was married all contact would be severed. She had no intention of becoming a real wife. Whatever motivation was behind that absurd request she would find a way out of it. She had to.

The lift doors closed on them with expensive silence and as they were taken upwards she kept her eyes straight ahead, watching the doors, not daring to look at him or at their reflection, which seemed to mock her from all sides. She could feel the intensity of his gaze, but refused to meet it. She didn’t dare. He was still acting the part of an attracted and attentive man and it was beginning to stir emotions she’d long since locked away.

She almost let out a sigh of relief as the lift doors opened. The opulence of the corridor wasn’t lost on her. He wrapped his arm around her, so her elbow nestled in the palm of his hand, and she moved towards the door of his apartment, a sense of dread filling her.

‘Do we really need to take it this far?’ The words left her in a rush, before she’d had time to consider them.

He stopped outside the white double doors to his apartment, his arm still around her, keeping her close. She looked up at him, desperate to keep calm. He mustn’t know just how unnerved he made her feel.

‘Yes—if you want authenticity you need to be seen leaving here tomorrow morning.’ Amusement lightened his eyes before he turned to open the doors.

‘We could have just stayed at the hotel...’ She clutched at the idea, not daring to cross the threshold, not wanting to be alone with him—especially on his territory.

‘On the contrary.’ He smiled that heart-stopping smile that could very easily make her think she was the only woman he saw, the only woman he wanted. ‘To bring you here gives a clear message to everyone who knows me—including my brother.’

With his arm firmly around her, he walked into the apartment. She had no choice but to go too. Her heels clicked on a marble floor and the low lighting hinted at a very sparse and masculine living space.

‘I don’t understand...’ The words rushed out on an unsteady breath as he finally moved away from her. At least she could breathe properly, now he wasn’t so close.

Dropping his keys onto a table, he took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a large black leather sofa. Unable to keep her eyes off him, she watched as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Dark tanned skin drew her eyes and she had to force herself to look away.

‘I never bring a woman back to my apartment.’

The implication of his words sank in. He was giving a very clear message—not just to Carlo, but to her. He wanted the business so badly he was prepared not only to accept her proposal of marriage, but to do everything to make it look real. Even appear to cast aside his womanising reputation and ways and take her as his wife.

‘I should be honoured, then,’ she replied flippantly, in an attempt to hide her thoughts.

He might be able to discard the way he lived for the sake of his business, but she couldn’t quite let slip the distant demeanour she hid behind. After all, it wasn’t a business she was doing it for, but the love of her sister.

‘The first woman to spend a night here with you?’

* * *

Santos flicked on a light, wanting to see Georgina’s face better. In fact he wanted to see more than just her face. All evening her soft skin had teased his senses—so much so that he’d done the one thing he never did with any woman. He’d kissed her publicly. Not just a light brush of lips on lips either, but a desire-laden kiss that held a promise of passion and satisfaction.

‘More champagne?’

He should just be showing her to her room, as he’d intended when he’d formed this bizarre back-up plan yesterday. But even then, as she’d stood so proudly in his office, he’d found the cocktail of icy control laced with underlying passion tempting. Too tempting. And challenging. What man could refuse such a challenge?

‘No, thanks.’

Her frosty tone made it clear the ice maiden was back. He watched as she walked across the room to look down on the Thames, at the city’s lights reflected in the dark water.

Ordinarily, if he’d taken a woman back to a hotel suite, he wouldn’t be thinking of any kind of drink. He would be enjoying holding her, kissing her, and thinking only of satisfying their sexual needs. But this was different.

It unnerved him, but he quickly pushed the notion to the back of his mind. It was different simply because of the deal they’d struck. Never before had he spent time with a woman for any other reason than that he wanted to.

‘Coffee?’

‘No, thanks.’ She turned to face him. ‘We both know this isn’t for real, and there isn’t anyone here to witness anything more, so can we just say goodnight and go to bed—separately?’

He raised his brows at that last word and was rewarded with a light flush to her cheeks, giving her an air of innocence. Their eyes met and for a moment it was as if everything hung in the balance. Boldly she held his gaze. Did she have any idea how magnificent she looked? A glacial beauty with barely concealed simmering passion.

‘I’ll show you to your room.’

He turned and broke the contact, but could feel her gaze following him. A sizzle of desire zipped through him and he gripped his hands into fists. If she could be so coldly in control, then so could he.

Her heels tapped rhythmically as she walked behind him, out of the vast open space of the living area and into a long corridor. He stopped outside a door, opened it, and reached in to flick on the light. ‘I trust this will be comfortable for you?’

Then he looked at her face, saw a moment of hesitancy in eyes which now sparkled like rich mahogany.

‘If you need anything I’ll be in here.’

He pushed open the door to the master bedroom, where the lights of the city were visible for miles through large windows.

‘I won’t need anything,’ she said, lifting her chin defiantly, and he fought hard the urge to lower his head and capture those full lips beneath his. He wanted to taste her again, to feel her mould to his body as if she were meant to be there.

‘I’ll see you in the morning, then,’ he said, and stepped away from her—away from the temptation of her body, away from the sweet seductive scent that wrapped itself around him.

In that moment he realised he was no better than his father if he couldn’t allow this woman to sleep alone. But she fired something deep within him. Something so powerful he didn’t want to ignore it.

‘Goodnight,’ she whispered. and moved into the room, using the door to shield her glorious body from his view, apprehension clear in her eyes.

Anger simmered in his blood, mixing with unquenched desire. He was worse than his father, moving from one woman to the next. Memories from childhood, of watching an endless stream of woman enter his home, surfaced like a tidal wave. Was he now just as bad, if he couldn’t walk away from Georgina?

‘Goodnight.’ His voice was harsh as he battled with emotions long since packed away.

Damn it all—this was a business arrangement, a means to an end. If he couldn’t get out of that clause in the will legally, then he would damn well take her up on her proposition. Keeping the business was his priority. Nothing else mattered. And if Georgina had offered herself as a sacrificial lamb, so be it. Soon she would be his wife, and he had no intention of saying goodnight then.

CHAPTER THREE

GEORGINA WOKE WITH a start. Her heart thumped in her chest like a hammer as she tried to blink away the images that had haunted her sleep. Images of Santos kissing her, wanting her. Images that had heated her body as surely as if he had spent the night next to her.

She dragged in a sharp breath and looked around the room, different now the calm light of dawn was casting its glow. Her jade dress was draped over a chair, just where she’d left it, and she pulled the sheet tighter against her, feeling suddenly naked in her underwear.

Waking up in a man’s bed, even if it was only the guest bed, was something she wasn’t used to. She groaned at the thought of the field-day the press would have if they ever found out.

She hadn’t given a thought to the morning as she’d left the party last night. Her mind had been elsewhere, thanks to Santos’s charm attack.

In that moment she knew she couldn’t face him. There was only one option. She had to leave now.

Could she make a quick getaway? The thought raced into her head and quickly she flung back the sheet and grabbed her dress. The silk was cool against her skin as she stepped into it and embarrassment washed over her as she thought of all those who’d know about this walk of shame.

She would be able to slip away without seeing Santos, she reassured herself, especially at this early hour.

She washed her face in the en-suite bathroom, trying hard to remove the traces of last night’s make-up before applying fresh mascara and lipstick—all she’d been able to fit into her evening bag.

At the bedroom door she paused, took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart to calm before slowly opening it. Silence greeted her and she smiled, sure she was going to be able to slip away. With her bag in her hand and sandals dangling from her fingers she closed the door and padded softly along the wooden floor of the hallway, but as she entered the vast open living space the smell of strong coffee greeted her.

Her heart sank.

Someone was up.

Did Santos have a housekeeper who prepared breakfast for him? Yes, that must be it. Could she slip out without whoever it was in the kitchen noticing her? Quietly she walked across the huge room, feeling more like an intruder with every step.

‘Going somewhere?’

The deep, seductive tones of Santos’s voice halted her in her tracks. She turned to look at him and tried not to react to the sexy image he created in denims and a shirt. Casual suited him. But she didn’t want to dwell on that now.

‘Home, of course.’ She kept her voice bright, as if this scenario was one she was familiar with, and met his gaze. Lifting her chin, she made every effort to appear totally indifferent to him—which was hard when he stood before her, cool and powerful, just like the man who had haunted her through her dreams last night.

‘This early?’ He pushed back the cuff of his shirt and looked at his watch, a small smile lingering on his lips. ‘I think you have time for a coffee first. Even the most hardened shoppers aren’t about this early on a Saturday.’

‘It’s not the shoppers I’m worried about,’ she said with a huff of exasperation. ‘Emma will be wondering where I am.’

‘Precisely.’

The curt word made her blink, and despite her need to get away she walked towards him. As she did so Santos turned and headed back into the kitchen, its sleek design as contemporary as the rest of the apartment.

‘How do you take your coffee?’

‘This is a game to you, isn’t it?’ She really wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. ‘We were seen leaving the party together and your housekeeper will know I’ve spent the night. I think that is enough, don’t you?’

Santos didn’t answer, and she found herself mesmerised as he poured the coffee. In her chest her heart was pounding, and a whole stream of butterflies had taken flight in her stomach.

It’s not him, she told herself firmly. It’s just that you haven’t been in this situation for years. It was exactly this kind of awkward morning-after she had witnessed her mother and her lovers enduring, and exactly what she’d then gone and done herself as a naive young woman. But she’d changed, and repeating her past wasn’t something she wanted to do.

‘Try this.’ He took her sandals and bag from her and replaced them with a steaming mug of black coffee. ‘And even if my housekeeper had seen you—assuming she was working, that is—I would expect nothing other than her discretion.’

He smiled at her, and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered ever more wildly, but before she could respond he continued, ‘At least no one will know you didn’t sleep in my bed. That would really upset our plans.’

Georgina’s fingers burned, and she was sure it wasn’t just the mug of hot liquid in her hands. His touch, brief as it was, had jolted her with a voltage more powerful than any coffee. She took a sip—anything other than stand and look at him, fearing that if she did he would see just what an effect he was having on her.

‘We left the party together. It will have to be enough.’ She instilled as much courage into her voice as she could muster, which was difficult given the way her body now tingled.

Purposefully he moved past her, to place her shoes beneath a small ornamental table and drop her bag onto its glossy surface. His expression when he turned back to her was one of guarded control.

‘I’m not a man to do things by half, Georgina. If I do something, I do it properly.’ He stepped closer to her, the fresh scent of pine and his dark hair still slightly damp evidence that he’d recently showered.

She thought of his kiss last night at the party. The feel of his lips on hers, the way she hadn’t been able to do anything other than sway towards him, and knew he was right. He didn’t do anything by halves.

‘I’m sure you don’t, Mr Ramirez—’

‘Santos,’ he interrupted, his voice firm as he moved towards her.

He was coming so near she had to brace herself against the urge to move closer to him. The desire to experience his kiss just once more was almost overwhelming. She clung to her cup of coffee as if it were a lifeline.

Distance was what she needed. Distance was the safest option. She stepped back, out of the shadow of his power. She didn’t know what was the matter with her—she’d never experienced this before. It was insane. Of all the men to find herself attracted to, why did it have to be this man? She furrowed her brow.

‘If you don’t use my name, who is going to believe this charade of yours?’

He raised his brow in question at her. Did he really think he could get the better of her so easily?

‘You appear to be taking this far more seriously than me,’ she goaded, and took another sip of her coffee before placing it on the table. Then, turning to look directly at him, she added for good measure, ‘Santos.’

‘You can be assured of that, querida.’

His lips—the ones that had set light to a trail of heady need as he’d kissed her last night—spread into a smile of the kind that made his dark eyes sparkle, full of triumph.

‘I have as much to gain from this deal as you do.’

‘More, if your commitment to it is anything to go by.’ The words flew from her before she’d had time to think. She had to remember her goal—the sole reason she’d even approached this man in the first place. Antagonising him could put it all in jeopardy.

He didn’t respond with words, but she saw his expression change. The smile still lingered, but granite hardness blazed from his eyes and he folded his arms across his chest, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders.

‘Which is why I have made plans for us to go to Spain.’

Shock coursed through her body, leaving her almost gasping for air, as if she’d been plunged into a cold sea. ‘Why Spain? We can stay in London. Spend the weekend here together quite easily.’ She almost spluttered the last words. ‘Why do we need to go to Spain?’

Santos watched as her brown eyes widened in shock and decided he preferred her with less make-up. Her soft skin looked fresh, and he fought hard against that unfamiliar urge to reach out and brush his finger against it, feel its softness.

Mentally he shook himself. The morning after was always a time to be brief—a quick goodbye had never failed him before. So why did he want to keep her here? Was it because this morning wasn’t a normal morning-after? His body still fizzed with need, despite the cold shower he’d forced himself to stand under after he’d woken alone, knowing she was there, in his apartment, as untouchable as if she was the other side of the world.

‘My home is in Spain, and if we are to be married I can cut through the red tape far more easily there.’

He heard her sharp intake of breath, saw her shoulders stiffen. His gaze was drawn to the way the jade silk clung to her body. She was as desirable in the morning light as she’d looked in the subdued lights of the party last night.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman. She wasn’t simpering and needy, looking for something that he couldn’t give. She was strong and as in control as he was. But underneath all that he sensed a passion that would engulf him, rendering him helpless, and that was a position he would never put himself in.

He would never be as weak as his father had been.

‘I still have to go home.’

She reached past him to grab her bag and sandals, her shoulder brushing his arm. He braced himself against the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her as he had done at the party.

‘A girl can’t flit off for a weekend with nothing more than her Friday evening outfit.’

Her voice was light, almost lyrical. She was obviously used to loving and leaving. She also appeared used to coping in situations like this, and he’d do well to remember that. He watched as she placed her hand on the table, leaning against it as she lifted one shapely leg and slipped on a sandal. Mesmerised, he watched her fiddle with the straps, her brunette hair cascading over her shoulder, shielding her face from his view.

She straightened, taller now. His gaze locked with hers and a sizzle of something undefinable zipped between them. She blinked, long lashes breaking the connection, and bent to put on her other sandal.

‘Okay,’ she said softly. ‘What do I need for this wedding in Spain?’

He smiled. He hadn’t ever thought he would be getting married, and never in his wildest dreams had he imagined such a reluctant bride. Women usually fell over themselves to please him, and he knew if he’d asked the magic question to any one of the glamorous models he’d recently dated they would have been dragging him away.

‘Your passport and birth certificate is all you need to bring. I have everything else sorted.’

‘To perfection, by the sound of it. I suppose you have organised a pre-nuptial agreement?’ She pushed her thick hair behind her ear and looked straight at him, her eyebrows raised in question.

Of course he’d arranged a pre-nuptial agreement. Any man in his position would. He’d had his legal team on it since she’d left his office on Thursday—just as they’d been finding out if it would be quicker and easier for them to marry in Spain. Her track record showed an ability to marry for financial gain and, no matter how passionately she declared sisterly love as the reason behind her proposition, he’d decided to safeguard everything.

‘It would be foolish not to, querida.’

Her eyes sparked with burnished gold and he knew he’d hit a raw nerve. It was well known that she’d become a wealthy woman after her husband died.

‘Fine.’

The word crackled between them, and her lips were firmly pressed together, as if she was holding back what she really wanted to say.

He looked at her lovely face, her lips set in a firm line of discontent, and he couldn’t help himself. He reached out and brushed his fingers down her cheek. She didn’t move, didn’t pull away from him, just looked at him with such wide-eyed innocence he wondered if it was the same woman he’d met a few days ago.

‘It will protect us both.’ Her skin was so soft he wanted more. He stepped closer, the urge to kiss her stronger than anything he’d known.

‘I have packing to do.’

* * *

Georgina’s heart was pounding in her chest so hard she was sure he would be able to hear it. She couldn’t do this. Why ever had she thought it was a good idea? Had it really been her only option? Offering herself to a man renowned for his ruthless business tactics.

For a moment his gaze locked with hers, the dark depths of his eyes seeming to search hers as if looking into her soul. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any more he dropped his hand and moved away from her. As he’d done a few days ago in his office he walked to the windows and stood looking out over London.

She needed to go home and think. Once she was away from him she could think of other options, but she couldn’t do any of that if he was around. Just one smouldering look from his eyes made her pulse leap. She wasn’t supposed to feel anything for him, but the attraction that simmered like an undercurrent waiting to snare the unsuspecting unnerved her more than anything else.

‘My car will take you to your apartment and wait while you pack.’

‘Wait while I pack?’ She laughed. ‘Have you any idea how long it takes a woman to pack for a trip abroad?’ Not that she would count herself among one of those women, but she needed time alone.

‘Yes.’ He turned to face her. ‘As a matter of fact I do—which is why you will find just about anything you need waiting for you in Spain.’

‘You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?’ She couldn’t believe the calculated way he’d planned all this. From the party where they would first be seen together to the trip away to get married.

‘As I said, I do things properly. I cover every eventuality. Which is why my car will wait for you.’

‘I made a deal with you, Santos.’ Did he actually think she was going to run away? She was made of stronger stuff than that. ‘I have no intention of going back on that deal, despite the fact that you have manipulated the situation to your advantage.’

‘The “situation”, as you call it, will be to the advantage of both of us.’

He smiled and his eyes darkened with the promise of something she didn’t want to think of.

‘Of that you can be sure.’

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