The Argentinian's Demand

by Cathy Williams

  He turned to gaze out of the window, down at the bank of clouds. He was finding it hard to get his mind off the woman. Usually on long-haul flights he could devote his time to work. Huge amounts could be achieved with the luxury of not being interrupted. He glanced down at his laptop and realised that he had barely skimmed the surface of what he had optimistically intended to do.

  He was in the act of snapping shut the laptop when he looked up and saw her returning from the bathroom.

  For a few seconds, he was deprived of the power of coherent thought. She had brushed back her hair and done away with the sensible bun. Instead she had swept it into a low ponytail which hung over one shoulder like a gold, silky rope. Her hair was long. Much longer than he had imagined. She had also done away with the jacket, and her clinging tee shirt, while still the height of modesty, was sufficiently tight to show off the shape of her high, small breasts.

  Emily didn’t want to look at him as she walked back to her seat. She felt conspicuous and she wasn’t entirely sure why, because her outfit was hardly revealing.

  ‘Your turn.’ She addressed the armrest. ‘It’s now or never.’

  Leandro was grappling to find something to say. For the first time in his life he was lost for words as he mumbled something before sliding past her.

  The plane landed and the passengers were disgorged into an early evening which was still sticky and warm.

  ‘We need an interconnecting flight to the island,’ he said to her. ‘I have a private island hopper on standby.’

  He fought an insane urge to release her hair just to see what it looked like loose. It joined the host of other inappropriate thoughts that had recently afflicted him and he cursed himself yet again for looking at a woman who was taken by someone else. There were plenty of fish in the sea, he had always thought, for him not to be bothered with trying to catch one that belonged to someone else.

  But he wasn’t trying to catch her, he reasoned firmly to himself as they cleared their bags and were ushered to the adjoining strip where their plane awaited them. He was simply trying to work her out—and if he happened, in passing, to notice how crazily attractive she was, then who could blame him? He was a one hundred per cent red-blooded male after all!

  She moved with a calm, unhurried grace that didn’t try to draw attention to itself. In the closed confines of an office it was something he had never really noticed before, but it was evident now, when she was surrounded by open space.

  He was aware of her asking questions about their flight to the island and joking nervously about the reliability of such a small plane, which looked barely big enough to hold a handful of people, and he was aware that he was responding in a perfectly natural manner. All the time his rebellious mind was on a rollercoaster ride.

  What would she look like without those clothes on? With that long vanilla-blonde hair spread across a pillow and that half-smile of hers inviting him to take her? Her body would be smooth and supple and pale, her breasts small and shapely, with rosebud nipples... He wondered what they would taste like. The thought of filling his mouth with one of them brought him back down to earth with an agonising bump just as they boarded the light plane.

  ‘I’ve never travelled like this before.’

  Leandro looked at her. Already, outside, darkness had descended abruptly, and the violet colours that had streaked the sky had faded into deep velvet blackness. As the little plane taxied down the runway and took off like a small, buzzing mosquito they could have been anywhere in the world. Anywhere hot. The temperature was in the eighties and Emily’s face was shiny with perspiration.

  ‘In a small, dangerous object hardly bigger than a washing machine and with the engine of an underpowered lawnmower?’

  ‘Please don’t say that.’

  Leandro laughed with genuine amusement. ‘Don’t worry. This plane wouldn’t dare drop out of the sky with me on board.’

  Emily relaxed. His voice was light and teasing and she felt some of her nerves about the short flight begin to ebb away. ‘I had no idea you had such power over inanimate objects,’ she returned in similar vein, because it distracted her from a worst-case scenario that involved them all plummeting to the ground in a disarray of twisted metal.

  ‘Reassuring, wouldn’t you agree? I know the pilot personally. He’s excellent.’

  ‘Have you ever been in something as small as this before?’

  ‘I can go one step better. I’ve flown something not dissimilar...’

  ‘You haven’t?’ She found she was totally absorbed by what he was saying. His lazy, teasing gaze held her spellbound.

  ‘When I was sixteen.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  Leandro chuckled and threw her a superior look that was strangely boyish. ‘Flew over my father’s ranch in a light aircraft which he kept securely housed out of reach of curious juvenile hands—or so he fondly imagined.’

  ‘You stole your father’s plane?’ She grappled with the twin notions of living on a ranch which housed its own personal light aeroplane and Leandro as a teenager, breaking and entering to get his hands on it.

  On the back burner were all her fears about being on such a tiny plane, about having to spend a fortnight in his company, about what lay ahead of her beyond that...

  ‘I hijacked it for an hour and a half...’

  ‘Your parents must have been worried to death. How dangerous!’ But hadn’t she always known that he had that devil-may-care side to him? It was part of what made him such a formidable opponent in the business arena.

  ‘Not dangerous,’ Leandro murmured in a low drawl that sent shivers rippling up and down her spine, ‘just challenging. And if I know anything about myself it’s that I can never back away from a challenge...’

  Why did she feel that the remark went beyond the remembered thrill of flying solo at the age of sixteen? Why did she feel such a shiver of fierce, dark excitement? It terrified her, and not for the first time since she had confessed to her engagement to Oliver she wished desperately that the man she was committed to marrying was more than just a means to a very necessary end. More than ever she wished that she could hold on to him as a barrier against the effect Leandro seemed to be having on her.

  ‘But surely even if you’d flown with someone before you would have been scared...?’ Her heart was thumping inside her and every nerve-ending in her body felt primed, on red-hot alert.

  ‘Of course I wasn’t scared,’ Leandro said with a casual shrug and the same half-smile that made her feel so unsteady. ‘I was a teenager. Since when do teenagers feel fear? And besides,’ he admitted, ‘I’d had a few flying lessons with one of the ranch hands. I only felt afraid when I landed the plane and spotted my parents waiting for me.’

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  God, it was heady having her attention focused so completely on him. It made him feel like the teenager he no longer was. He was quite accustomed to having women hanging on to his every word, but this woman...

  ‘What did they say?’

  ‘Grounded for life.’ He grinned. ‘Of course it was impossible for them to stick to that threat. Grounded for three days and then a course of flying lessons, so that if I ever felt inclined to take the plane up again they would at least know I would be able to fully handle the controls...a win-win situation, as it turned out...’ He smiled fondly at the memory. ‘We’re going to be landing in a few minutes...’

  Emily hadn’t even noticed that the plane had been dipping lower, but now she broke free of his gaze to peer down into velvety darkness. She could just about make out twinkling of lights as they looped down. They hadn’t removed their seat belts and she clutched the arm of her chair until her knuckles were white. Anyone would have imagined that she had never flown before, and of course she had. Many times when she had been younger. But never in something as ti
ny as this.

  They bumped to a shuddering stop and then they were out in the warm Caribbean night, with the sounds of tropical insects all around them. It was a little disorientating. The island was small and there was none of the usual chaos of a proper airport.

  She didn’t resist when he cupped her elbow with his hand to guide her towards the little terminal, which was empty except for a few employees. Behind them their bags were being brought on a trolley. The sound of the soft, lilting accents around her was as foreign as the sounds of the insects and the fragrant warmth of the night.

  This might be a horrendous work-related trip during which she would be closeted with a man who got to her whether she admitted it to herself or not, but she still felt the stirrings of excitement at being out of London, on exotically foreign soil.

  Without looking at him, she reached to undo the ponytail and shook her hair free, before scooping it all up once again in a fluid gesture, back into a ponytail—a high one.

  Against the darkness surrounding them and the smooth, deep mahogany skin of the airport workers who had surrounded them, and were laughing and chatting as they wheeled their bags through, her paleness was intensely eye-catching. He would go as far as to say erotic.

  And from nowhere sprang the disturbing thought that this was not merely a challenge...this was danger.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE WOMAN WAS ENGAGED!

  Over the next two days that was the only thing that acted as a brake on an imagination that was now firing on all cylinders. That brief moment of companionship on the island hopper—when she had let her guard down, when he had felt as though he was seeing yet another tantalising glimpse of the woman she really was under the mask—had disappeared.

  Frustratingly, she had retreated behind her professional façade, and he had had no time to try and work his way beneath it because much of the time they were in the company of other people.

  On the island he was nothing short of a minor celebrity. The locals loved him. He had been single-handedly responsible for creating a huge number of jobs. He paid very well. He had sent several of them on courses abroad. Everyone was looking forward to a boom in tourism, thanks to his innovative hotel. His influence had trickled its way into all sectors of the economy.

  As soon as they’d arrived they’d been told the great news by the manager in charge of the project that a television crew from one of the major channels in America would be coming for a few days, to cover the opening of the hotel and analyse what it meant for the economy.

  Emily felt as though she had entered a strange new world where she had suddenly been elevated to celebrity status purely because everyone seemed to think that she came as part of a package deal with Leandro.

  They’d been wined and dined by the great and the good on the island. The local paper had snapped pictures of them. And in the ensuing hectic whirlwind of social activity she had thankfully been able to shakily put her working hat back on and keep it firmly in place.

  Her swimsuit had remained at the back of a drawer, and if she had attended dinners and luncheons in attire that was a little over-formal for the surroundings, then at least she felt comfortable in her clothes, and she had firmly resisted the pleas of several of the local businessmen’s wives to go shopping for more ‘Caribbean-style stuff’. By which she had deduced they meant sarongs, flip-flops, transparent floaty dresses and other bits and pieces which she knew would have made her feel even more vulnerable than she already did.

  Now, tonight, for the first time since they had arrived on the island, they would be dining alone in the hotel restaurant, sampling the standard of the cuisine. A selection of taster plates would be brought for them, along with suitable wines.

  ‘Perhaps you and Antoine should do that on your own?’ she had suggested the night before. ‘I mean, he is the head chef. Wouldn’t it be more appropriate if you had him there with you?’

  ‘He’ll be behind the scenes,’ Leandro had pointed out, in a tone of voice that had suggested he knew very well that she was trying to avoid his company. ‘Do you suggest he cooks, then quickly changes out of his chef clothes and scampers over to my table so that he can pretend that he’s tasting his own food for the first time?’

  Emily looked at her reflection in the mirror and felt a shiver of nervous tension ripple through her. She had been given one of the luxury cabanas which sat nestled amidst palm trees and cleverly landscaped lawns that were bursting with colour. She had been told to evaluate it in as detached a manner as possible and get back to him with any suggestions for improvement.

  There were none. The cabana was the last word in luxury, from the cool bamboo furniture to the sophisticated adjoining wet room. There was also a thoughtfully positioned full-length mirror, to accommodate women who wanted to make sure that they looked perfect when they stepped foot outside the cabana, and it was this mirror which now reflected back to her an image that was stunningly different from the one she had spent the past year and a half cultivating.

  The sun had given her skin a pale gold hue and brought out a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Against the tan her eyes appeared bluer, her lashes thicker and her hair lighter.

  Instead of the habitual bun, which she had continued to wear even out here, she had decided to leave her hair loose, and it fell over her shoulders and halfway down her back in a display of wild abandon. The heat and humidity had done something to it—brought out curls and waves she’d never known she had.

  Returned to the wardrobe were her neat ensembles. She had brought out one of her two less formal dresses—a turquoise wraparound that showed off lots of leg and bare arms. It was nothing anyone could possibly consider daring, and yet as she did a half-twirl in front of the mirror she felt daring.

  * * *

  Leandro, having a drink in the bar, was only aware of Emily’s entrance because the little group of men he was chatting to all fell silent. Drink in hand, he turned around slowly and for a few seconds his mind went completely blank. He took a fortifying gulp of rum and water and forced himself to smile and move towards her, murmuring a few words to the guys around him by way of taking his leave.

  ‘The television crew will be arriving tomorrow,’ he said, dragging his eyes away from her with difficulty. ‘Lots of promotional shots which will benefit us and benefit the community here at large.’

  Emily smiled politely. He hadn’t said a word about how she looked, and although she hadn’t dressed for him it would have only been courteous to pay her some sort of compliment, wouldn’t it?

  ‘That’s brilliant!’

  ‘And, if you look to your left, you’ll see that they’ve specifically laid a table for us. It’s a demo of how all the tables will be laid when the place is full. I’ve told my people here that there must be no shortage of attention to detail. Feel free to comment on the job they’ve done...’

  ‘Of course.’

  She was so conscious of him next to her that she felt faint. Something about being there, seeing him in different surroundings...

  She might be at great pains to stick to formalities, but he was not. His clothes were cool and casual. No suit, no tie, no restrictive jacket. Now he was in a pair of light-coloured Bermuda shorts, a black polo shirt and loafers without socks. And a couple of days in the blazing sun had lent his complexion an even more burnished hue.

  Could the man look any sexier? She had to feebly remind herself that this was just the sort of package that gave him a sense of entitlement to women—the sort of casual sense of entitlement that repelled her.

  ‘But I’m sure it’ll all be perfect—just as the room is perfect.’

  ‘That’s the difference between a good hotel and a really great one. A great one takes nothing for granted and never gets complacent.’

  Had he been complacent about her? Was that why she had handed in her re
signation? However little need there might be for her to hold down a job, surely an intelligent woman like her would still want the distraction of work that provided a challenge? Unless, of course...

  ‘Are you pregnant?’ he asked abruptly as they sat at the table opposite one another.

  It took a few seconds for the softly worded question to sink in. Emily had been absently admiring the surroundings. The eating area was fashioned along the lines of an enormous gazebo. It was covered, so that diners would be protected from the elements, but open at the sides so that there was an unimpeded view of the sea, now just a dark body of water lapping gently along the shore. Bird-feeders had been strategically placed on the outside so that during the day there were always birds dipping down to feed and filling the air with their chorus. It was idyllic.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘It never occurred to me, but it makes sense. The rushed marriage, the resignation letter... Are you pregnant? Because if you are then I have no problem keeping the job open for you until you feel fit to return to work...’

  He pushed his chair back and angled it to one side, so that he could cross his legs while he kept his eyes firmly pinned to her face. In the mellow pool of light her face was soft and flushed...

  There was an expression on it that he couldn’t put his finger on until she said, with biting cynicism, ‘I’m anything but pregnant. Kids?’ She laughed and took a long gulp of the wine that had been brought over to them. ‘That will never be on my agenda.’

  As hooks went, this one was irresistible. Leandro had never experienced such intense curiosity about a woman. On every level he wanted to know more, even though he recognised the weakness behind the pull on his senses.

  ‘I thought it was the dream of most women to have children...’ he murmured encouragingly. ‘Diamond rock on the finger, walk up the aisle, the pitter-patter of tiny feet...’

  ‘Not me.’ Emily took another energy-boosting sip of wine and realised that her glass was empty. It was quickly refilled. Part of the excellent service.