by Maggie Cox
Her hair was haloed by the light from the fire and Javier studied her exquisite profile and felt heat of a very different kind suffuse his body. Taking a sip of his brandy, enjoying the burn that rippled satisfyingly along his throat to his stomach, he offered the glass to Sabrina. ‘Have some.’
‘What is it?’
‘Brandy. Very good French brandy.’
‘I’d better not.’
She watched mesmerised as Javier slowly dipped his finger into the glass, wetted it and offered it to her instead.
For one crackling, electric moment, Sabrina didn’t know what to do. Her stomach muscles clenched so tight that she almost forgot to breathe. Her eyes huge, she leant forward a fraction and circled her hand round his wrist. She was aware of his white shirt cuff and the onyx cufflinks outlined with gold, the fine black hairs on the back of his bronze hand, the faint spicy drift of his aftershave as she lowered her mouth to capture his finger between her lips.
She heard the low rasp of his breath as she slowly licked her tongue along his flesh then released him, tasting brandy and Javier, feeling light-headed and so aroused that her nipples were erect to the point of pain against her blouse. Then her fevered brain registered the softly seductive Spanish as he moved off the chair and got down on his knees beside her. His eyes were very dark and completely intense as he cupped her face between his hands.
‘What is it about you that makes you so hard to resist, Sabrina?’ Lowering his mouth, he kissed her gently, experimentally, making her heart zing and her eyelids flutter closed. Curling her hands round his wrists, she eased back to look at him, knowing she could easily ask him the same question, but maybe it was a question she already knew the answer to? He had the kind of ‘sit up and take notice’ good looks that made women glance knowingly at each other when he walked into a room and smile at the fantasy of sharing his bed. His bearing was relaxed, confident, bordering on arrogant. But it wasn’t an empty, shallow kind of confidence—Javier D’Alessandro more than delivered the goods. Not only was he clever and hardworking, but he also had integrity and honour that would put lesser men to shame, as well as being kind to children and women who needed a prayer or two answered. Everything considered, he was a pretty irresistible package all round.
‘We said we weren’t going to do this,’ she whispered softly. One of the logs on the fire cracked and spat and Sabrina held her breath as Javier stroked down her cheek with the pad of his thumb. His eyelashes were very black—almost with a blue sheen—and she could see the tiny lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes.
‘Rules were meant to be broken, no?’
She was about to agree when a child’s distressed cry cut through the room, making them both spring apart and jump to their feet.
‘Angelina!’ Javier was out of the room before Sabrina got her bearings. She found him kneeling beside Angelina’s bed—the child’s hand in his while his free hand stroked her brow. Even at the door, Sabrina could see the little girl was pink and flushed, her dark eyes shimmering.
‘She is burning up.’ His voice sounding almost unbearably hoarse, Javier threw her an anguished glance and Sabrina hurried towards the bed to feel the evidence for herself.
‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she soothed, brushing the child’s hair back from her face, ‘aren’t you feeling well, darling?’
‘My head hurts.’
When Angelina gazed at her as if she was about to burst into tears, Sabrina put her hand on Javier’s shoulder. ‘Get a bowl of tepid water and a flannel.’
He was already halfway to the door when he stopped. ‘Tepid?’
Seeing the confusion in his eyes, Sabrina elaborated quickly. ‘Not too cold. If it’s too cold it might give her a shock.’
‘Sí.’ He was gone and back again in no time. Taking the flannel and wringing it out gently in the water, Sabrina sponged Angelina’s feverish brow as Javier looked helplessly on.
‘I’ve checked her over for any rash,’ she said quietly, remembering the instructions for signs of meningitis pinned to Ellie’s huge American-style refrigerator. ‘And there doesn’t seem to be anything untoward. Right now we just need to bring her temperature down. Can you look in the medicine cabinet for any Calpol or paracetamol? And wake Rosie; she might be able to help too.’
‘It’s Rosie’s night off. She’s gone to visit a friend at university in Brighton. She won’t be back until tomorrow.’ Driving his hand impatiently through his hair, Javier stared worriedly down at his niece. She’d thrown off her bedcovers and the pretty pink duvet was bunched round her knees. In the soft glow of the night-light Sabrina pulled it up a little over her nightdress and continued to sponge her heated brow.
‘She’s very hot. If this doesn’t work soon we should call the doctor. You have the number?’
‘Of course I have the number. I will ring now.’
He disappeared before Sabrina could say any more.
‘You’re going to be just fine, my angel. Just fine, I promise.’
‘You won’t leave me?’
Seeing the anguish in her face, Sabrina squeezed her hand tight. ‘Are you kidding? I’m going to stay right here all night if I have to. You don’t get rid of me that easily! Once I care about someone I stick like glue, I can tell you.’
Angelina’s brief, tentative smile tore at her heart. Silently offering up a prayer, Sabrina smiled back, reminding herself to breathe, to stay calm, not to show even the slightest anxiety to the little girl she had grown so fond of.
‘He said about half an hour.’ Anxiety creasing his smooth, tanned brow, Javier crouched down beside Angelina then dropped an infinitely tender little kiss on her flushed cheek. ‘You are going to get well, mi querida. I promise. The doctor will not be long.’
Angelina’s eyes fluttered closed. Sabrina glanced at the man beside her, her chest feeling tight when she sensed the worry rolling off him in waves. He had already lost so much—his sister, then Michael. No wonder he looked so gripped with fear. Her hand came down on his shoulder and stayed there awhile. ‘It’s probably just a bug she picked up at school. It happens all the time. She’s strong, Javier—she’ll get better in no time. I’ll stay with her tomorrow. Jill and Robbie can manage for a day without me.’
‘Then we stay here together,’ he said, not looking round at her but staring at the sleeping child on the bed instead. ‘Nothing matters more than Angelina being well again.’
CHAPTER TEN
AFTER two days of worrying himself into a stupor over Angelina, Javier knew he had to start resuming an iron resolve as far as his feelings for Sabrina went. The woman had stayed home from work on both days to help take care of his beloved niece because Rosie had also come down with a bug and advisedly stayed put at her friend’s. In the end she’d ministered to both of them, reassuring Javier with words of comfort and hot soup when he refused to eat anything more, and nursing Angelina the way a devoted mother would her child. It was the latter that had him convinced that she was a dangerous woman to be around. Already, he had more than lost his heart to her and it terrified him to finally realise the state of his feelings.
As for Angelina, after two days of being too poorly to leave her bed—a viral infection, the doctor had proclaimed—today she was tucked up on the big couch in the living-room. By her side on the floor there was a virtual Aladdin’s cave of videos and DVDs to choose from, and her uncle had left her laughing at a cartoon with Sabrina, who’d popped home for lunch to see how she was, while he mooched around the kitchen trying to come to terms with his emotions. If his adoring mother so much as suspected her son’s growing attachment to the woman who’d married him in name only, she’d be on a flight out of Buenos Aires so fast to make sure he held on to her that his father would be left eating her dust.
His brow furrowing at the thought, he glanced up at Sabrina’s soft-footed entrance. In one of her plain but smart business suits, her hair coiled up behind her off her collar, some tiny pearl studs in her lobes, she looked the kind of woman
a man could depend on—and not just in a business sense. After the past two days, Javier knew Sabrina was capable of so much more. She was cool and calm in a crisis, and more to the point didn’t buckle under pressure—even when it was something she was hardly used to handling. If there was ever a woman who was made to have children, it was she. He was convinced of that much.
‘She’s looking much better today, isn’t she? More like her old self.’
‘My heart is glad.’ The simple statement carried a wealth of meaning. The child meant everything in the world to him. It gave Sabrina a bitter-sweet pang to know how much, because it made her wonder what it would feel like to have someone care that passionately about her.
‘You look better today too. I see you’ve had a shave.’ The corners of her pretty mouth kicked up and so did Javier’s pulse.
Grinning wryly, he rubbed his hand around his clean jaw. ‘I did not want to frighten you away by looking like Blackbeard, no?’
‘Funny, but I could see you as a pirate.’ It wasn’t funny at all, Sabrina realised with a little jolt of heat in her stomach. It was downright licentious! Javier as some marauding pirate looking dark, dangerous and disreputable—it was a fantasy that should be purely reserved for night-time. It had no business interfering with her thought processes during daylight hours. Not when she had to get her skates on and go back to work.
‘Anyway, I have to go. I’ve got a customer coming in to talk to me about visiting Iceland of all places. Just saying the name makes me shiver. As if it wasn’t cold enough!’
She was babbling to hide her discomfort. Did he even guess how hard it was for her to behave normally in his presence? After two days in the closest proximity, sharing the worry and concern of a sick child, both letting down barriers they’d rarely let down before, it was becoming more and more difficult to contemplate leaving—and that was without taking the lovely Angelina into consideration.
‘We will have a take-out tonight, I think. You look tired and I do not want you worrying about cooking. Rosie will be back tomorrow. I had a phone-call this morning so hopefully things can return to normal. Take care of yourself, sí?’
Unconsciously his voice had lowered and, venturing a smile, Sabrina took a step back towards the door. ‘You too.’
Poring over the take-out menu for a local Thai restaurant later that evening, Sabrina glanced up in surprise at the sound of the doorbell echoing through the house. Leaving Angelina’s bedroom, where he’d just gone to check that she was sleeping peacefully, Javier called out, ‘I’ll get that.’
As her gaze returned to the menu, Sabrina’s hand fluttered to her complaining stomach. She was starving. For the first time in two days she actually felt like eating. Now it seemed her appetite had caught up with her with a vengeance.
‘Sabrina. You have a visitor.’
Blinking in disbelief, she straightened to see the bustling, concerned figure of her mother enter the room, with Javier close behind her. Joan Kendricks was smaller and plumper than both her daughters but her eyes were as blue as theirs while her hair, although faded to grey, was prettily highlighted with becoming streaks of ash blonde. She smelled of Chanel No. 5, as she usually did, and Sabrina noted she was wearing one of her best dresses beneath her smart black wool coat.
For a moment, her daughter just stared in shock.
‘Mum! What are you doing here?’
She was in the process of laying some shopping bags down on the big pine table, and Joan Kendricks’ neatly plucked eyebrows flew up towards her hairline. ‘It’s nice to see you too, Sabrina. What did you expect? That I’d leave you to your own devices when I heard the child was sick? What kind of mother do you take me for?’
The child? Ellie must have said something, of course. Sabrina had spoken to her sister a couple of times while she was at home nursing Angelina.
‘And good of you to introduce me to your new husband as well.’
Her heart in her throat, Sabrina stared wide-eyed at Javier across her mother’s shoulder. He shrugged and grinned but did not look half as discomfited as Sabrina felt.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. This is Javier—Javier D’Alessandro.’
‘You’re a brave man, taking this one on.’ Joan swung round to survey the tall, handsome man who reminded her of one of those old-fashioned matinée idols of the fifties, and firmly shook his hand. ‘She’s too independent by half.’
‘Tell me about it.’
He was smiling…smiling, would you believe? Joan smiled back then proceeded to shrug off her overcoat. Wordlessly, Javier took it and disappeared briefly to go and hang it on the coat tree in the hall.
‘Anyway, how is the poor little thing? Angelina, I think Ellie said.’
‘She is doing very well,’ Javier answered. ‘She is sleeping now and well on the way to full recovery.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Would you mind if I took a little peek? Just to satisfy myself.’
‘No. Not at all.’
‘Sabrina?’
‘Yes, Mum?’
‘Put away that take-away menu. What the pair of you need is some proper food. I know what it’s like to nurse a sick child and it’s easy to neglect your own needs. In one of those bags you’ll find one of my big dishes with a casserole in it. Pop it in the oven and give it a good twenty minutes’ heat-through. In another bag you’ll find a bottle of champagne. It should be well chilled because I’ve had it in the fridge at home all day but pop it in yours anyway, there’s a good girl. I’ll be right back as soon as I’ve had a look at the child.’
As Sabrina automatically began to sort through the bags on the table, she stood-stock still all of a sudden, dazedly shaking her head as if to convince herself that she hadn’t imagined the scenario that had just taken place. ‘Thanks a lot, Ellie!’ she breathed out loud. No doubt Javier was already trying to come to terms with that ‘just run over by a steamroller’ feeling, a state of mind both Kendricks girls were well used to when it came to their mother.
Ten minutes later, the casserole simmering nicely in the oven and fragrant smells permeating the kitchen to mouth-watering effect, Sabrina sat at the table, sipping her coffee, her stomach in knots, wondering what on earth her mother and Javier were finding to talk about.
‘What a beautiful child!’
They returned to the kitchen, Joan pulling out a chair to sit opposite her daughter, while Javier switched on the kettle and sorted cups and saucers from the dresser.
‘Now, come and sit down, young man. We’ll have tea or whatever it is you’re making later. Sabrina, open that bottle of champagne and fetch three glasses.’
About to rise from the table, Sabrina dropped back down into her seat, scowling. ‘What’s all this about, Mum? What’s the champagne for? You rarely even take a glass of wine.’
‘Listen, it’s not every day my elder daughter gets herself married, is it? Even if I wasn’t invited to the ceremony I would still like to celebrate with a glass of champagne. Ellie was right when she said your husband was a lovely young man. As soon as she told me I knew everything would be all right. You’ll do very well together, I can see that.’
Her heart sinking, Sabrina dared a glance at Javier. He was leaning against the dresser, his arms folded across that gorgeous chest, apparently as relaxed and at ease as if it were his own mother who had dropped by for a visit. But it wasn’t safe to make assumptions about anything, was it? He might be hating every second, squirming inside because her mother had clearly got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Hadn’t she explained to her that she’d married Javier simply to help him get a British passport and stay in the country? So what on earth had made her suddenly assume it was some kind of match made in heaven?
‘Mum, please!’
‘Oh, you think I’m embarrassing your young man?’ Joan chuckled as she tilted her head towards Javier.
‘He’s not embarrassed in the slightest, are you, dear? Besides, he’ll have to get used to my ways. He’s part of the family now.’
&n
bsp; Javier produced the glasses, three elegant flutes, while Sabrina got the champagne out of the fridge and plonked it on the table. Even though the whole thing was farcical, she would have to go along with it for now because she quite honestly didn’t feel up to facing a scene after the last few days. All of a sudden she was feeling desperately tired, like a favourite old cardigan that was suddenly looking too worn out to wear again.
‘Well.’ Her blue eyes crinkling at the corners and looking as though she might cry any minute, Joan Kendricks raised her glass to Javier and Sabrina.
‘Here’s wishing you both a long and happy married life. I must confess I was always afraid that my beautiful Sabrina would end up alone; all she seemed to think about was that business of hers.’ She glanced at Javier confidingly, her glass still poised in the air. ‘That’s not to say that her father and I aren’t proud of what she’s achieved, but I did fear it wouldn’t be enough, if you see what I mean. Nothing can replace children and a good man. So anyway, lots of love to you both.’
‘Gracias.’ His expression unreadable right then, Javier toasted his mother-in-law and his wife in turn, his dark gaze boring into Sabrina as she felt herself blush what must have been a deep beetroot-red. In her top ten of most embarrassing moments, this surely had to be number one? Here they were, drinking a toast with her mother to a marriage that Sabrina and Javier knew was destined to have a very short shelf life. Both pretending that it was something true and honest worth celebrating, while inside Sabrina feared her heart might break if she had to pretend any longer. The truth was she was desperately in love with Javier and couldn’t imagine her life without him. Which was tough when that was the outlook that beckoned—like it or not.
‘Now, you two,’ rising to her feet, Joan patted her hair, ‘I’m going to love you and leave you and let you enjoy your dinner in peace. When Angelina is properly well, I’ll come and visit again and bring your father if I may, Sabrina? Having met your charming husband, I’m sure George would also like to have the pleasure of his acquaintance. I’ll give you a ring, sweetheart. That OK?’