The Girl That Love Forgot

by Jennie Lucas

  “So.” Annabelle took a deep breath, her lips turning downward unhappily in the deepening shadows of his bedroom. “What happens now?”

  “I don’t know,” Stefano said slowly. Trying to brush aside her question, he gave her a sudden wicked grin. “We could always do it again.”

  But she pulled away from him. “I’m serious,” she insisted.

  “So am I.” Looking at her now, soft and naked in his bed, was the culmination of all his dreams. He stroked her soft skin, caressing her naked body. He could see the faintly pink pattern of scars on her skin, like the veins of a flower. She was so sweet and soft, like a pale pink rose.

  He would never forget the taste of her. He would never forget the feel of her pebbled nipple in his wet mouth or the soft pleasure of her breasts. He’d never forget the sound of her gasp when he’d pushed her legs apart and licked her, when he’d thrust himself to the hilt inside her tight sheath. The pleasure of that had nearly overwhelmed him. He would never forget how it had felt to fill her, to hear her cry out his name, to bring her to gasping fulfillment before he’d shuddered and shattered inside her with his own orgasm.

  He was already hard for her again. How? How was that possible? Usually, he lost interest in a woman immediately after he’d bedded her. But this time, instead of being satiated, he didn’t want to let Annabelle go.

  He softly kissed the top of her head, and even that small movement caused a new shudder of desire to course through his body. He said in a low voice, “How is it possible that you were a virgin, Annabelle?”

  She swallowed. Folding her arms, she looked up at the white plaster ceiling. “I know.

  It’s a bit pathetic, isn’t it? Most women my age have boyfriends, husbands, children. I’ve never had anything. Or anyone.”

  “So—why did you choose me?” he whispered hoarsely, hardly able to believe it.

  She looked at him for a long time, then finally said, “I’ve been chased by many men, but never one like you. You pursued me with such single-minded passion. Such … devotion.

  And such skill. I could not resist you. In the end, I didn’t want to resist, no matter what it might cost me.” She took a deep breath. “How long do you want me to stay?”

  He frowned, not understanding. “In bed? Stay as long as you like.”

  She looked at him in the shadows of twilight, then gave a harsh laugh. Abruptly, she sat up. Her gray eyes became hard and flat as slate.

  “Let’s be honest and call this what it is,” she said coldly. Her cheeks flushed red over her faint pink sunburn. “A one-night stand.”

  “No.” He immediately sat up beside her. “Not a one-night stand. That’s not what I want.”

  She exhaled, and the coldness in her eyes fell away. She suddenly looked vulnerable and painfully young. “It isn’t?”

  Swearing softly in Spanish, he snorted a laugh. “Dios mío, Annabelle. I don’t want any other woman. I want you. Don’t you know that by now? I’ve never had to try so hard to win a woman. I don’t want you to leave my bed. I’ve barely had a chance to enjoy you yet.”

  Looking at him, she licked her lips. Then slowly, she lifted troubled gray eyes. “Then

  … I’ll stay.” She took a deep breath and added quickly, “Just until my assignment ends here on Saturday. When your charity gala is finished, I will leave Santo Castillo.”

  He scowled at her. “You can stay longer than that.”

  She laughed at his expression, then sobered. “No, I’d better not.”

  “Why?”

  Annabelle rose from the bed. Naked, she reached for her linen skirt and silk camisole now crumpled on the floor, ripped and dirty from her work with the horses.

  “I want an answer,” he said steadily.

  She stopped, then. Folding her arms over her naked breasts, she looked at him with clear gray eyes.

  “People can’t change who they are, Stefano,” she whispered. “I’ve learned that the hard way. My father was a brute. My mentor was a liar. They both treated me differently at first. My father beat my brothers, but not me. Patrick lied to other people, but not me. I thought I was special. But ultimately they treated me like all the rest.”

  “I’m nothing like Arbuthnot or your father,” he said angrily.

  She shook her head sadly. “You’re wrong. Whatever you might think now, you will someday treat me just as you treat all other women. You will hurt me. And I’ve already given you too much.” Turning away with her clothes in her arms, she whispered, “If I were smart, I would leave now …”

  Leaping to his feet, he caught her wrist.

  “No,” he growled.

  She looked down at his hand, then gave him a trembling smile. “You are a playboy, Stefano. It was the first thing I heard about you. You will someday leave me for another.”

  “Maybe,” he exploded. “But not today! Not next week!”

  “No, not today.” She gave him a wan smile. “But soon. How could you not? We are all wrong for each other. You love this ranch and hate to leave it, while I will never settle down and have a home.”

  “So? I could visit you in London, you could visit me here …”

  She shook her head. “It’s more than that.” She looked down at the floor unhappily. “I know you will betray me. I can’t bear to just wait for it to happen.”

  “But, Annabelle.” He stared at her. “We could have weeks, months, together. Why do we have to decide now how it ends? Why not just enjoy it while it lasts?”

  Blinking back tears, she gave him a tremulous smile. “You asked me how I could be a virgin at thirty-three. It’s because I don’t let anyone close. I don’t give my heart easily.”

  Her heart? He frowned. “We haven’t said anything about love. We’re talking about sex.”

  “For you, I know they are not the same. But for me.” She shook her head. “That’s why I need to leave. Before I.” Her eyes glimmered in the light as she took a deep breath. “Before I love you.”

  His eyes went wide.

  Staring at him, Annabelle shook her head with a laugh. “You needn’t look at me like that. Don’t worry, I know you are the worst possible man I could choose to love. You will never be faithful to any woman. And I couldn’t take another betrayal, Stefano. I really couldn’t.”

  He scowled. “Annabelle—”

  “Stop.” She put her finger on his lips. “There’s nothing more to say. You know I’m right. We’ll just enjoy the rest of this week and then … we will part.”

  Stefano swallowed.

  People can’t change who they are, she’d said. And in his heart of hearts, he knew she was right.

  And yet.

  And yet.

  In this moment, Stefano couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving him. Not now. Not yet. For the first time in his life, he wanted more of a woman after bedding her, and she was pushing him away!

  He shook his head angrily, not wanting to accept her decision. “Stay an extra week after the gala,” he argued. “Surely a week won’t hurt.” He tried to smile. “That won’t make you love me. I’m not that adorable.”

  She snorted, then shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “I’ll need a week in London to edit and develop the photographs of Santo Castillo for Equestrian, then I immediately leave for Argentina on assignment for Geography World magazine. No.” She took a deep breath.

  “Our love affair—whatever you want to call it—must end when I leave on Saturday. It’ll be a clean break. For both of us.”

  He swallowed. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “It’s for the best.” Her eyes were luminous in the fading light. “Let’s enjoy the four days left. Then we’ll say goodbye before it gets serious. Before anyone gets hurt. All right?”

  He sucked in his breath.

  “All right,” he said heavily. “Four days.”

  He didn’t like this. Didn’t like it at all. But he couldn’t argue with anything she’d said.

  He didn’t want to hurt her, but knew he p
robably would.

  Four days would have to be enough. He’d somehow make it be enough. Then he would forget her, like all the rest. Wouldn’t he?

  Standing beside her, Stefano entwined his fingers with hers. “Only four days,” he said softly. “Let’s make every minute count. We still have the rest of the evening. We still have all of the night.”

  Her gray eyes flashed up at him, looking breathless and mysterious. “After all our hard work today—”

  Taking her hand, he pulled her back toward the bed. “I couldn’t exactly call it work.”

  She giggled, allowing him to draw her two steps toward the bed before she stopped.

  “But I’m starving.”

  “Me, too,” he growled, pulling her into his arms. Holding her against the length of his naked body, he kissed her.

  With a sigh from the back of her throat, Annabelle melted. Her wadded-up clothes fell from her hands as she wrapped her arms around him. Stefano smiled to himself, knowing he’d get his way. He relished the feel of her soft body against his, the feeling of paradise.

  Then they heard a loud shout downstairs, as the young stablehands headed noisily into the dining hall.

  Annabelle pulled away from his embrace.

  “We should go downstairs,” she said, blushing. “Everyone might wonder what we’re doing if we don’t show up for dinner.”

  “Let them wonder.” Smiling down at her, he stroked her cheek. “We’ll ask Mrs.

  Gutierrez to bring up dinner. We have no reason to even get dressed.”

  She looked scandalized. “We couldn’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “Well—” she bit her lip “—it would set a bad example for the boys. I wouldn’t want them to think it’s acceptable behavior to sleep with their girlfriends before they’re married….”

  “Ah, querida,” Stefano said tenderly, laughing. “You’re an old-fashioned girl.”

  She stiffened in his arms. “I suppose I am.”

  He stopped her with a kiss, then looked in her eyes. “I meant it as a compliment.”

  Naked, they faced each other. But for once, Stefano wasn’t looking at her body. He took her hands in his own, staring in wonder at her beautiful face. Her gray eyes were endless pools of light.

  He felt her warmth, heard the hush of her breath in the shadowy room. He realized he couldn’t see the scar on her face anymore. All he saw was her beauty—inside and out.

  He’d never felt like this before.

  He … cared for her.

  You are the worst possible man I could choose to love. The echo of her voice rang hollowly in his ears. You will never be faithful to any woman. And I couldn’t take another betrayal, Stefano. I really couldn’t.

  A cold jolt went through him, but he pushed the feeling away. He would just enjoy their four days. It would be a short, hot affair. That was all he ever wanted, anyway. Right?

  Right?

  He dropped her hands and turned away. “If we’re going downstairs to have dinner, I’d better go take a shower.”

  “I’ll miss you,” she said wistfully behind him, then gave a goofy laugh. “Isn’t that ridiculous? How can I possibly miss you for ten minutes while you’re in the shower?”

  Four days. Only four days. And the clock was ticking.

  Ignoring the lump in his throat, he turned back and crossed the room in three steps.

  “You won’t miss me, querida.” He looked down at her, and his body went hard as his heart turned over in his chest. “I’m taking you with me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Annabelle listened to Stefano’s even, quiet breathing as he held her naked against his chest, lying in his bed. She looked down at their intertwined fingers. Even though he slept, his hand was wrapped around hers, their intertwined clasp lit with soft gold in the fresh morning light.

  Every new hour, every new minute, Annabelle spent with Stefano over the past two days had increased the depths of her joy. She’d never known life could be so wonderful.

  Her camera bag and expensive photography equipment had been left in her bedroom, gathering dust. Instead, she’d lived the warm, busy, physically demanding life of the ranch, caring for the horses, going on long rides through the fields, feeling the wind and sunshine on her face. She’d even pulled vegetables from the garden and felt the earth against her fingertips. She’d taken lots of pictures, but only using her smallest digital camera, the one she could easily tuck into the back pocket of her oversize jeans. Being Stefano’s mistress took precedence over everything else.

  At midnight last night, long after the rest of the staff was asleep, she and Stefano had been suddenly starving after four solid hours of lovemaking. So they’d scampered down to the kitchen, where Stefano had insisted on showing her how to prepare his favorite Spanish rice dish of paella.

  “Just in case you ever want to cook for me,” he said with a wicked grin, his hands stroking over hers as he helped her stir the pot.

  “Cook for you? The very idea!” she’d teased, flashing him an indignant look. “I’m a busy woman. You should cook for me! ”

  For answer, he’d grabbed the belt loops of the oversize jeans hanging low on her hips and turned her to face him. Her wooden spoon had clattered to the tile floor as he pulled her close to him in the kitchen.

  “I’d love to cook for you,” he’d whispered. “Every time I look at you, I boil.”

  He’d kissed her hungrily. Then, shoving aside the empty bowls and shattering them to the floor, he’d roughly pushed her back against the kitchen counter. As he lifted her into his arms, she’d wrapped her legs around his waist as he held her against him, pressing her back against the counter.

  They’d very nearly made love right then and there, but Annabelle had suddenly remembered Mrs. Gutierrez, who was a light sleeper and probably heard the bowls smashing to the tile floor, and the impressionable teenagers who slept through anything but might wake up and wander into the kitchen for an extra meal.

  Stefano had tried to reassure Annabelle that the housekeeper and boys were all exceedingly deep sleepers, long abed in a distant hallway, but she’d been steadfast. So with a growl, he’d carried her in his arms, running up the stairs to his bedroom, where they’d made love for another two hours behind closed doors.

  It was only later they’d remembered the paella in the cold pot downstairs. Throwing on robes, they’d gone back to the kitchen and reheated their late-night dinner in the microwave, washing it down with a cold bottle of white wine at the tiny table in the dark kitchen.

  Then they’d gone back upstairs, and again, one thing had led to another …

  Annabelle sighed, wriggling her toes in pleasure at the memory. Her body felt wonderfully sore and she kept yawning from lack of sleep, but she’d never been so happy.

  There was only one shadow on her happiness. The future.

  Half their time together was already gone.

  After the first time they’d made love, Annabelle had wanted to be with him so badly, she’d made a compromise with her soul: bargaining for four days of happiness at the expense of a little pain in the future. She’d told herself she couldn’t possibly fall in love with Stefano in four days. As he’d said himself—surely he wasn’t that adorable!

  She still had two days left, she tried to comfort herself.

  Two days. But only one night.

  Tomorrow night, she would be the official photographer at his annual charity polo match and gala. Then, late at night, she would pack up her equipment and drive back to London. She’d go edit the photographs of Santo Castillo for Equestrian, then catch a flight to Argentina.

  She’d looked forward to visiting Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego. But now, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Stefano, her first lover. Her only lover.

  The man she loved.

  No! Annabelle’s hands flew to her head in consternation. She couldn’t let herself love him. Stefano Cortez would never commit to any woman. She would have to be barking mad—or utter
ly masochistic—to let herself love a man who’d never love her back!

  Trembling, Annabelle carefully pulled away from his arms and crept out of his bed.

  She took a shower in his en suite bathroom, then got dressed in clothes she’d borrowed from his wardrobe: an oversize white cotton shirt and jeans cinched to her hips with his leather belt.

  Looking down at her clothes, Annabelle smiled. Stefano had been so gleeful to finally get her out of her dressy suits. She’d finally given up her sleek and professional outfits as impractical, and instead relished the comfort and good sense of Stefano’s oversize cotton shirts and rolled-up jeans.

  He’d sent for new work boots for her in the village. He offered to get her new clothes, as well. But she’d refused. She loved wearing Stefano’s clothes. It was intimate. She sometimes thought she caught his scent of saddle soap and sunlight. Feeling the worn, soft cotton against her skin felt like being in his constant embrace.

  Now, she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. And for once, it wasn’t the angry red scar across her face that drew her eyes. It was her mouth.

  She touched her bruised lips. She could still feel Stefano’s kiss. His perfect body.

  She’d been sleeping in his bed every night. His sensual, powerful body commanded her without words. He gave her such pleasure, made her feel so alive….

  “There you are,” she heard him growl behind her. “Why did you leave bed so early?”

  Annabelle looked up at the mirror and saw him behind her, standing naked in the open doorway. In spite of their many days together, she blinked in astonishment at his masculine perfection. His shoulders were so broad, his body muscular and lithe. She couldn’t look from his image in the mirror as he walked into the gleaming white bathroom. Her eyes traced downward from his handsome face and dark, chiseled jawline to his hard chest and flat belly and lower still …

  He wanted her to come back to bed. A lot.

  His darkly amused eyes met hers in the mirror and she licked her lips, blushing.

  Coming behind her, he turned her around in his arms.

  “I missed you.” He looked down at her. “I was disappointed to wake up alone.”