Hot Nights with a Spaniard (Mills & Boon M&B) (Mills & Boon Special Releases)

by Carole Mortimer

Outside the garden swooned in the syrupy heat of the summer afternoon and the sea sparkled in the distance. At the far side of the lawn a table stood, half in the shade of the huge cedar tree whose branches were hung with brightly striped bunting, and Emilia’s squeals of delighted laughter drifted across the drowsy air and in through the open door.

  Lily’s face broke into a smile of pure adoration as she watched her, delicious in the pink tutu and fairy wings Scarlet and Tom had given her, sitting on the bit of Scarlet’s knee that wasn’t taken up with the bulk of advanced pregnancy and giggling infectiously as Scarlet tickled her plump little arms with the feather-trimmed fairy wand.

  At the other end of the table Andrei sat in his highchair carefully scrutinising the wooden fire engine that Dimitri had given him. Lily’s heart clenched with helpless love. He was quieter, more timid and reserved than his easy-going sister, his small face was solemn, setting him slightly apart from the celebration going on around him.

  It was a double celebration: for the twins’ first birthday and also to toast their permanent acceptance into Lily and Tristan’s lives. The interim care order that had allowed them to bring them home to Cornwall had at last been approved as a formal adoption, in no small part thanks to the efforts of Miss Squires who had turned out to be a staunch ally. Her report had stated that Tristan’s own difficult past, and the strength and courage with which he had dealt with it, made him ideally placed to care for the twins.

  Tristan joked that she had supported them solely so that she had an excuse to keep coming down to Dolphin House and seeing Dimitri, who sat beside her now with his arm thrown protectively round the back of her chair, his careworn face serene. Next to him Nico leaned back in his chair and laughed at something Tom had said, and his laid-back, charismatic charm reminded Lily with sudden piercing poignancy of the beautiful stranger who had jumped down from the helicopter and pulled her straight into his arms a lifetime ago.

  She gasped as those same strong arms slid around her from behind, and the same lips that had flamed ecstasy into her body and changed her life for ever brushed the nape of her neck. Their touch was gentle and loving now, but still powerful enough to make the earth tilt on its axis.

  ‘All right cariño mio?’ Tristan murmured against her skin, his warm breath sending shivers of delicate joy down her spine.

  ‘Mmm …’ she sighed, closing her eyes. ‘Although if you carry on like that I might just have to keep everyone waiting for the cake.’

  Tristan pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. ‘That would be a shame.’ His mouth was close to her ear and she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘It is, after all, the most fantastic cake ever.’

  Together they looked at the fairy tale castle Lily had painstakingly constructed from sponge and chocolate buttercream, and she smiled as she placed the pink candle alongside the blue one in the top of the turret, next to the tiny sugar-icing dove. Then, kissing the side of her neck, Tristan let her go and went to the fridge to take out a bottle of champagne. Sucking chocolate buttercream from her fingers, Lily dreamily watched him open the bottle.

  ‘Shouldn’t you wait and open that outside?’

  Suddenly serious, Tristan shook his head as he poured pale golden fizz into two glasses. ‘Today is for Andrei and Emilia, but this is a private toast to us.’ He handed one to her. ‘To you—for loving me when I didn’t deserve to be loved and giving me more than I ever dared to hope for.’ He kissed her lingeringly on the mouth and glanced out of the window to the table beneath the tree. ‘Today feels a bit like the wedding we never had.’

  Lovingly, Lily’s fingers traced the outline of his lips, the indentation in his chin. ‘We never had the wedding,’ she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, ‘but we have the marriage, which is what matters.’

  She felt his lips curve into a rueful, sexy smile. ‘Come on. If we stay in here much longer I won’t be responsible for my actions, and if Miss Squires finds me making love to you on the kitchen floor she might just change her mind about my suitability as a parent.’

  He picked up the open bottle and took another one from the fridge while Lily lit the candles on the cake. Holding aloft her fragile cargo, Lily followed her husband out into the sunlit garden.

  The air was scented with summer and the sea. As they crossed the lawn Tom saw them coming and got to his feet, leading everyone in a joyful, if slightly tuneless, rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’.

  Perched precariously on Scarlet’s knee, Emilia bounced up and down in excitement, ecstatic at being the centre of attention. Imperiously ignoring the singing, she held up her arms squealing, ‘Dada!’ as her sloe-dark gaze fixed adoringly on Tristan.

  He handed the open bottle to Nico, putting the other one down on the table so he could scoop his daughter up into his arms where she crowed in delight and pointed at the cake. Across the table Andrei fastened huge, worried eyes on the candle and for a moment it looked as if he might cry. But then Tristan picked him up in his other arm, kissing his dark silky head and murmuring reassurance, and the little face relaxed into a cautious smile.

  Scarlet got to her feet with difficulty and came round to stand beside Lily as the singing reached its enthusiastic climax. Nico was circulating with the champagne, pausing beside Dimitri and squeezing his arm as he filled his glass. Holding the two babies in his arms, Tristan knelt down so they were at eye level with the cake. The candles cast a halo of soft golden light on their three faces, making stars dance in their eyes.

  Closing her eyes in comical bliss, Emilia pursed her plump rosebud mouth and blew extravagantly. Scarlet clapped her hands with delight, blinking back tears. ‘Don’t forget to make a wish!’ she cried.

  Across the table Tristan looked up, and his gaze met Lily’s. The candles guttered and died, but his eyes still shone with love.

  ‘I don’t need to,’ he said with quiet, ironic emphasis. ‘It’s already come true.’

  Spanish Magnate,

  Red-Hot Revenge

  Lynn Raye Harris

  About the Author

  LYNN RAYE HARRIS read her first Mills & Boon® romance when her grandmother carted home a box from a yard sale. She didn’t know she wanted to be a writer then, but she definitely knew she wanted to marry a sheikh or a prince and live the glamorous life she read about in the pages. Instead, she married a military man and moved around the world. These days she makes her home in North Alabama, with her handsome husband and two crazy cats. Writing for Mills & Boon is a dream come true. You can visit her at www.lynnrayeharris.com.

  To my husband, Mike, who bought me my first

  computer and who always believed. Thanks

  for putting up with take-out, frozen dinners,

  and no dinners. You are my hero.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “THIS can’t be happening,” Rebecca Layton murmured.

  She lifted her stunned gaze to the floor-to-ceiling picture window fronting her Waikiki suite. Of all the times to be away from New York. Palms swayed in the tropical trade winds, danced rhythmically against white-capped turquoise waves. So beautiful and peaceful. A stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside her.

  She’d just gotten off the phone with Layton International’s chief financial officer. The news wasn’t good. If she didn’t get back to New York and take control of the situation she could lose everything. Her cell phone rang again and she automatically picked it up. Very few people had her private number, and even fewer would dare disturb her when she was on a business trip.

  Unless it was important. And right now Layton International’s vulnerability was nothing short of cataclysmic.

  “Yes?” she said as she reached for her planner. She could at least make a few calls while her executive assistant booked their return flight. She would not lose this company her family had built, in spite of the problems her father had left her with when he had died unexpectedly. He’d trusted her to take care of things. She would not fail him.

  “Hello, Rebecca.”

&nb
sp; Rebecca’s breath sliced into her lungs as her head whipped up. The planner slid from her lap. “Alejandro?”

  “You did not expect to hear from me again, no?”

  Rebecca closed her eyes, her gut clenching with a mixture of need and sorrow. Five long years since she’d heard that voice speak her name. Once he’d meant everything to her. Now?

  Now she couldn’t even begin to sort out how speaking to him made her feel. Sweat moistened her palms. “This is a bad time, Alejandro. I really can’t talk.”

  His laugh, so cool and controlled, brought an image back to her. Alejandro Arroyo Rivera de Ramirez, the sexiest man she’d ever seen, naked to the waist, water streaming from his muscular chest in rivulets as he’d lifted himself from the pool. His sexy laugh as he’d scooped her up and hauled her into the bedroom. He hadn’t even dried off. The second she’d said yes he’d come for her. And then he’d spent the night showing her how amazing he truly was.

  “You need only listen, querida.”

  Something in his tone silenced her automatic protest.

  Her heart kicked into double time. She reached for her forgotten wineglass, took a steadying sip.

  “I expect you in Madrid in twenty-four hours. Spend the flight thinking how you will convince me to keep you on Layton International’s board of directors.”

  Shock rocketed her to her feet. Her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest. “You’re the one trying to steal my company?”

  “You have made poor decisions, Rebecca. Do not continue to do so.” His voice dripped ice.

  Rebecca speared a hand through her hair as cold sweat spread over her skin. Oh, God. She wasn’t the one who’d made poor decisions—but what did it matter now? Her father had thought he’d been doing the right thing.

  They’d tumbled far in the five years since she’d last seen Alejandro. Then, she’d been the one with the knowledge about the hotel business, the one with the might of a multimillion-dollar company behind her. He’d been the new kid on the block, the one with everything to learn.

  How had everything changed so drastically?

  There was still time. Not much, but a little. She could turn it around, could stop him. She would stop him, or she wasn’t a Layton through and through. She forced herself to sound calm, controlled—though she was anything but. “It’s not over yet. You’re counting chickens.”

  “Counting chickens?” His laugh jarred her with its sudden warmth. “Ah, one of your Americanisms.” She heard him speaking to someone in Spanish. “It is a done deal, Rebecca. Layton International belongs to Ramirez Enterprises.”

  She felt the chill of his words as if someone had picked her up and thrust her into the arctic. It was an odd sensation, totally at odds with her memory of the heat he’d once incited. She swallowed the knot in her throat. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then stay in Hawaii while I hire a new CEO. Or come advise the board on how to handle my new acquisition. Your choice.”

  He knew she was in Hawaii? Did he also know about the deal she’d just closed to acquire a chain of resorts in the islands?

  The deal that would have saved everything in just a few short months. Rebecca sank onto a rattan chair as her legs refused to hold her up any longer. The certainty in his voice was undeniable.

  She knew from personal experience how determined Alejandro could be when he wanted something. He didn’t rest until he’d won, until he’d imposed his will and gotten exactly what he wanted. If he was calling her now, he was very certain he had control.

  Lock, stock and barrel, as her dad would have said. Jackson Layton was probably spinning in his grave right this instant.

  He’d never liked Alejandro, would be shattered to know the company he’d built had fallen into his enemy’s hands. And all because his daughter hadn’t seen it coming.

  “I think I hate you,” she said softly.

  “Then we are even.” The line went dead.

  Rebecca leaned numbly against the soft leather seat of the Mercedes that had picked her up at the Madrid Barajas International Airport. She stared bleary-eyed at the scenery as the car carried her down the Gran Via.

  He’d said he hated her. It shouldn’t surprise her, but somehow it did.

  Five long years. She hadn’t seen him—other than glimpses on television or in the pages of a magazine—in all that time. For one month he’d been everything to her. He’d been there when she woke, when she fell asleep, when she swam or shopped or ate. He’d laughed and made love to her and made her think she was the most special woman in the world.

  Now? She pinched the bridge of her nose. God only knew what happened now. He was ruthless, and he’d gained control of Layton International. He owned every last share. She’d confirmed it during her endless hours of travel.

  She had nothing left. If he fired her, she could only limp away in shame. Without her company she was stone-cold broke. She could pay her mortgage for the next three months, and she could eat. If she hadn’t found a job by then she’d lose her apartment and all her belongings.

  Somehow the loss didn’t compare to the loss of self-respect, the knowledge that she’d failed to protect her family legacy. She didn’t know how to do anything except run a chain of hotels. It was what she’d been brought up to do—however reluctantly on her father’s behalf—what she’d spent her life training for and trying to excel at. What would her father say if he could see her now? He’d wanted a son to leave the business to, but she was all he’d had. Would he now believe his concern about leaving a woman in charge was justified? She couldn’t bear to think of his disappointment.

  The car wound through the busy streets, nearing the ornate gray facade of the Villa de Musica, the Ramirez crown jewel in the heart of Madrid. Her heart hurt with the memories seeing it again brought. She’d been staying in the newly renovated hotel when she had first met Alejandro.

  Rebecca shoved away thoughts of the sexy Spaniard who had ruined her life. She’d see him soon enough, and though her stomach twisted, she reminded herself—firmly—that she was here for business. She would not be intimidated. His mere presence wouldn’t turn her to mush like it once had.

  She was only mildly surprised when the car continued past the hotel. She hadn’t really expected to be shown to a room, allowed to freshen up, maybe sleep a little, before being dragged into Alejandro’s presence. Since she had no idea where they were going, she tried to close her eyes and get a few minutes’ sleep—but rest eluded her.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours in traffic, the limo pulled into a private drive somewhere in the hills of Madrid. She wasn’t sure where they were, but she vaguely remembered passing the Palacio Real, the official residence of the King and Queen of Spain. A uniformed man helped her from the vehicle while another retrieved her bags. Within moments she was whisked through a stunning marble atrium and into a masculine office overlooking a terrace with a pool. How far Alejandro had come in five years.

  Rebecca drifted over to the window and clasped her hands together. Oddly, they were shaking. But she’d been traveling for almost twenty-four hours straight. Her wrinkled suit clung to her body like an old rag, her curls had lost their bounce hours ago and she desperately needed a hot shower. Clearly Alejandro would give her no quarter before he gloated over his triumph.

  Well, fine. She’d endure it, and she’d refuse to react to his insults.

  When the door behind her opened again, she put on her battle face and turned to meet him head-on.

  And, oh heavens, he was still the most amazingly handsome man she’d ever met. Her knees threatened to buckle at the sight of him. She had an inexplicable urge to rush into his embrace, the way she used to do, but she crossed her arms and stood her ground. It took every ounce of reserve she had not to give in to the desire to touch him.

  Why?

  She didn’t know if she was questioning her reaction or if the word was meant for him.

  Why, Alejandro? Why did you deceive me when I loved you? Why have you
done this to me now?

  As if she’d spoken aloud, he halted, his gaze locking with hers. What lay behind those silver-gray eyes was anyone’s guess, but she didn’t think they held any warmth for her. And it hurt. Surprisingly, it hurt. She felt like she should do or say something, but she simply stood and drank him in.

  If he’d changed at all, she couldn’t see it. He was tall, six-three or six-four, and as muscular as ever. The years had not been unkind to him. He still looked every inch the hardened ex-bullfighter. She’d once teased him that he was a warrior clad in Armani.

  Had she really spent hours exploring his tanned skin? It seemed so long ago that it must surely be her imagination. But she remembered with every last nerve-ending in her body how extraordinary it had felt when he slid his hard length inside her. Over and over and over, until she’d shuddered from the exquisite pleasure.

  Rebecca pushed a hand against the stucco window casing to steady herself. Alejandro didn’t seem to notice. He was completely unaffected by the current whipping through the room. It was all she could do to keep from being sucked into the vortex, while he pressed on as if nothing had changed.

  For him, it probably hadn’t.

  “I have a schedule for you,” he said, walking to the desk and pulling out a folder. “You will read through these papers and be prepared to meet with the board first thing in the morning. We will discuss your duties then.”

  Rebecca stepped forward and clutched the folder, glad to have a new focus. Something hot and thick lurched to life in her sluggish veins. “That’s it? No Hi, how have you been? No explanation?”

  Ice-gray eyes regarded her dispassionately. “I owe you no explanation, Rebecca. I owe you nothing, in fact. Be grateful you’re getting this much.”

  “I’ve been doing okay, thanks for asking, Alejandro,” she said, ignoring him. “Or I was until yesterday. And you? How are you? Did you marry the woman you conveniently forgot to tell me about?”