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

by Carole Mortimer

  He told her a few other things, about permits and engineers, architects, the Emir and a relative of some sort. Nothing specific, but things that could add up to trouble for a hotel chain trying to build a new resort. She’d fielded similar problems in the past, so understood both the import of the issues and the hassle of bureaucratic red tape.

  “You’ll let me know if you hear anything?” he finished.

  “I’ll keep my ears open.” After what Alejandro had done to her, she refused to feel guilty about it. If there was even a remote chance she could wrest Layton International from him, she had to take it. Her father would have demanded no less.

  An image of Alejandro talking about his daughter in the past tense sprang to mind. No. No room for weakness. This was business, not personal.

  “I’d appreciate that,” he replied. “We’re digging, looking for an Achilles’ heel, but so far there’s nothing to report.”

  “Roger,” Rebecca said, when they were wrapping up the conversation. “I wanted to ask you something else before you go.”

  “Shoot, love.”

  “Why’d you pull out of the Ramirez deal five years ago?”

  He hesitated a moment before speaking. “We decided it wasn’t a good investment after all.”

  “But you financed our South American acquisitions.”

  “The stake was less than Ramirez required.”

  Rebecca’s temples throbbed. “But you didn’t pull out of Ramirez because of us, right?”

  He sighed. “Your father thought it was a bad bet, love, and he didn’t want to do business with us if we took the risk. Ramirez had a reputation as a risk-taker, you see. He was unorthodox, and several of our investors were already wary. Your father’s opinion simply helped put the nail in the coffin.”

  Rebecca’s heart pinched. Yes, her father had been at the top of his game then. He’d had a lot of influence in the industry and would have been listened to with the reverence of an Oracle. She drew a breath into her painfully tight chest. “All right, thanks.”

  “Ring me if you hear anything about Dubai.”

  “I will.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Rebecca laid her cell phone on the desk before leaning back in her chair. Icy dread dripped down her spine. It just might be her fault that Alejandro had lost his backing after all.

  Oh, God.

  In a moment of weakness she’d called her mother when she’d been sitting in the Madrid airport five years ago, her eyes puffy and red, her throat sore. She’d had no one else to talk to. She’d been stunned, hurt, humiliated. She could still see the severe-looking wedding coordinator, with her folder and her samples, asking for the groom and saying, “Gracias, I will wait for him to return. His fiancée is anxious to begin the plans, yes?”

  Ridiculously, she’d hoped for a mother-daughter connection, some sage advice. How she’d forgotten for those few moments that her mother was as shallow as a puddle, she’d never know. Amelie Layton had made sympathetic noises, but she’d spent more time talking to her dog than she had offering advice.

  Later, Rebecca had realized she’d just needed to say it aloud to someone. Once she’d confessed, she’d had the good sense to regret it. She’d made her mother promise not to say anything to her father—a “just us girls” pact. After the incident with Parker Gaines—hired by her father to prove that she was a weak, vulnerable female—she didn’t want to give him any further evidence of her “feminine weakness”. She had to be strong, had to prove she could run Layton International someday.

  Since it wasn’t like her father to keep quiet about her personal life—especially something negative—she’d breathed a sigh of relief when he’d never said anything. Her mother, bless her, had kept the secret. Indeed, thinking back on it, her father’s dislike of Alejandro seemed to have come later. Rebecca thought the explanation was simple rivalry; Ramirez Enterprises’ influence and reach had grown while the Layton star was sinking. It’d been hard for her father to accept as the years went by and their positions were reversed.

  Fury boiled over. She wanted the truth, no matter how difficult. She stabbed the number of her mother’s cell phone.

  “Did you tell Dad about Alejandro Ramirez?” she demanded, when Amelie Layton answered.

  “Is that any way to talk to your mother, ma belle?” Amelie’s voice trailed off as she shushed her dogs. “I may have. I can’t remember.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SEVERAL days of fighting with government officials had put Alejandro in a foul mood, especially since nothing was solved yet. Worse, his parents’ anniversary party was tonight at the Villa de Musica. As much as he’d like to stay home and sit on the terrace with a glass of sherry, he had to put in an appearance.

  The plane had landed half an hour ago. How his chauffeur had got them through the mess that was Madrid traffic and to his villa in that little amount of time was nothing short of a miracle. One of these days he would put in that helicopter pad he kept thinking about. As his business spread, so did the necessity for trips abroad.

  He usually kept a tuxedo on the jet, along with several suits and other things he might need, but his personal assistant had somehow sent everything to the cleaners without first rotating in a fresh supply. He had barely an hour to change and be on his way to the hotel.

  Alejandro ripped at his tie and tossed it on the bed. Señora Flores had laid out a fresh shirt for him, and his tux was hanging nearby, ready to go. Why must he suffer through these damnable parties every year? On the outside, Carmen and Juan Ramirez seemed the happy couple. They played it up quite well, in fact, except for a few public incidents Alejandro didn’t like to recall in detail.

  But Alejandro knew the truth. So did his sister, Valencia—which was why she always found an excuse to stay in Paris with her husband—and Roberto before he had died.

  Juan enjoyed his various mistresses du jour, and Carmen enjoyed her society committees as well as a little too much wine. Still, it mostly worked for them, even if there were moments of drama. Carmen forcing a mistress out of Juan’s city apartment naked, for instance. Juan cutting off Carmen’s credit line the moment she went abroad on a shopping trip.

  It was always something. As if Alejandro needed more confirmation that being chained to another person for life was bad. He’d tried it once—albeit without the drama and emotion—and that was enough. Emotionless or not, marriage wasn’t for him. Sometimes he thought it might be nice to have more children, but his sister’s children would inherit the business when it was time. He did not need to risk the heartbreak that marrying and having a child could bring ever again.

  He finished inserting the studs into his shirt and sleeves and went to work on the tie. After three attempts he was ready to ring for Señora Flores—except this was her night off and she wasn’t here.

  Swearing, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the limo. The doors to the terrace were open as he passed through the Great Room. A female voice drifted to his ears and he changed direction. Something kicked him low in the gut when he emerged onto the terrace and saw her. It should surprise him, the physical jolt, but it didn’t. Not any longer, and not since he’d decided to do something about it.

  Rebecca sat at the broad table under the arbor, the last rays of sunlight turning her hair to molten gold. She had her computer open, a pen in her mouth, and a cell phone to her ear. She did not hear him approach, so he took time to study her profile. Her golden hair was unadorned, falling to a point just below her shoulders in soft waves. She’d tucked it behind her ear, and a small diamond winked in her lobe. Her legs were crossed at the ankles as she leaned forward, concentrating on her screen and on the person on the other end of the phone. She wore a short tropical-print skirt. He let his gaze caress the length of those long legs before traveling up her body, over the white tank top molding her breasts, coming to rest on her face.

  He was going to enjoy taking her to bed. His groin tightened in anticipation, his body remembering how it’d been with her all tho
se years ago.

  Dios, in spite of everything she fired his blood, made him burn to possess her.

  “Do you have those projections?” she said to the person on the other end, and a jolt of awareness shot through him. He’d once had a liaison with an accountant, but his usual companions were actresses or models or idle heiresses. Rebecca, for all her pampering, knew her way around the business world. He liked that about her.

  Oh, yes, he’d made the right decision. He was going to thoroughly enjoy her before his revenge was complete.

  She glanced sideways, her eyes widening when she saw him.

  “Yes, thanks, John. Get me those numbers as soon as you can. I’ll talk to you later.” She set the phone down and offered him a wary smile. “How was your trip?”

  “Tiring,” he said. He held the tie up. “Can you fix this?”

  He thought vaguely that he ought to hate asking her, that he was merely confirming her opinion he was more suited to a bullring than a boardroom, but he was too irritated at the prospect of the party to care.

  If he’d expected a superior look from the spoiled woman sitting in his courtyard, he didn’t get it.

  “I can try,” she said, standing, biting her lip between her teeth as she took the tie and slipped it around his neck. Her fingers were cool where they brushed his skin, and yet a spark of awareness lingered where she’d touched. Her sweet scent stole into his nostrils. He couldn’t understand why, of all the women in the world, he currently wanted this one. But he intended to have her. Now that he’d decided bedding her fit into his plans, there was no need to wait. Tonight, one way or the other, she would be his.

  Awareness of her crept through him, made him hard. What would she think if she realized he was on the edge of burying himself inside her?

  Her gaze never wavered from his throat as she worked, almost as if she feared what she might see if she looked up at him. Sí, be afraid of me, amor. I intend to possess you, to ruin you. You are finished and don’t even know it.

  “Did you miss me?” he teased, his sensual tone at odds with his dark thoughts.

  Her brows shot up, her expression a strange mixture of disbelief and—was it guilt? Interesting. He filed it away for future contemplation.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Her voice broke at the last. She refocused on his tie, twisting and tugging.

  Alejandro pressed his advantage. “Perhaps I am not. Did you not enjoy our time together in the pool, bella?”

  She yanked the tie too tight, nearly choking him, then jerked it loose and swore before trying again. “I’ve forgotten all about it,” she said. “It didn’t mean a thing.”

  Her red face and clumsy fingers told him differently.

  “I wanted to taste you,” he said, just to see what she would do. “To lay you back and dip my tongue into your sweetness. Are you still sweet, Rebecca?”

  Her chest heaved, once. She bent her head lower, her lip undergoing punishment from her teeth as she concentrated. He wanted to suck that lip between his own, make love to it until she was pliant, begging him to move on to another delicious part of her.

  How could he want this woman he hated? He didn’t know, but maldito sea, since he’d freed himself to do so he could think of almost nothing else.

  She tugged the tie and stepped back with a triumphant expression. “There—all done.”

  He touched the knot, tested it for tightness. “Gracias.” Then he closed the distance between them, giving her no quarter. It was not in his nature to prevaricate once he’d decided he wanted something. “Would you like that, querida? Would you like me to taste you?”

  She made a choked sound, slipped past him and fiddled with the briefcase she’d left open on the table. “Stop, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Are you certain? Imagine it … imagine the ecstasy.”

  Her eyes closed. “No.”

  “Do you remember the first time?”

  He thought she wouldn’t respond, but she nodded—just a quick dip of her chin.

  “It could be like that again.” Dios, he wanted it. Right now, this second, he wanted it to be that way just once more. To forget why he had to hate her, why he had to destroy her. To just feel the good things again.

  She snapped her laptop closed and stuffed it into her briefcase before glaring at him with fiery blue eyes. “That’s impossible, Alejandro. The first time we were together, I stupidly thought I was the only woman in your life. You let me find out in the most humiliating way possible that I wasn’t the only one—or even the primary one.”

  He recognized that she needed to cloak herself in her mantle of righteous anger so she wouldn’t feel the pull of desire between them. But he did not intend to allow her that comfort. “Anyone can hire a wedding planner, Rebecca. That particular one was hired by my father, with the express purpose of chasing you away and pushing me into a marriage I had not agreed to.”

  She looked a bit shocked—and very doubtful. “Why should I believe you? And why, if that’s the case, didn’t you tell me five years ago?”

  His laugh was bitter. He snapped it off in midstream and pinned her with a hard stare. “Because you were a coward. You ran away like a petulant child. What was I to do? Chase you back to New York and force you to listen to me?”

  Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat. This was not what she’d expected tonight. She’d been working with her chief financial officer on some projections for the Kai Lani chain of resorts, and fielding calls from her human resources director about Ramirez’s plans and how it would affect jobs. Except she didn’t yet know what Alejandro had in mind, so she’d had to put the woman off with vague platitudes about the future. Which had angered and frustrated her. And reminded her how precarious her position was.

  She hadn’t expected Alejandro to return in the midst of it all, and she certainly hadn’t expected this. A discussion of their painful past was the last thing she’d have thought was possible tonight. Yet here he was, telling her it was his father who’d sent the wedding planner and that it had been deliberate.

  She could hardly wrap her mind around it. Worse, she feared he was right in at least one respect: she’d run away because she couldn’t take it, because she’d already shown poor judgment once before. She hadn’t trusted herself to make a sound decision. She’d needed distance, time, space to think.

  She’d got her time, and plenty of it, hadn’t she? “You should have made me understand,” she forced from her dry throat. Could it possibly be true that his family had wanted to manipulate him into the wedding? That his father would have done such a thing?

  Why not? Her own father had gone to extraordinary lengths, hiring Parker to insinuate himself into her life, hadn’t he? And all to prove a point to her. A painful point about her own vulnerability and neediness. Rebecca shivered as she stared at Alejandro. He was fully capable of lying to her in order to make her feel worse than she already did about what had happened between them.

  He stood before her, devilishly dark and deliciously handsome in his custom-fit tuxedo. His skin had darkened beneath the hot Arabian sun over the last few days, setting off the lightning-silver of his eyes. Eyes that speared her with scorn.

  “Perhaps you should have trusted me,” he bit out. A second later, he raked a hand through his dark hair, swore in Spanish. “As if it would have mattered. No, your plan was always to ruin me, to take what you could and destroy Ramirez Enterprises in the process. You nearly succeeded.”

  Her throat ached with denials. But what was the point? Though her mother couldn’t say definitively whether or not she’d told Rebecca’s father about the aborted affair, it was still Jackson Layton’s threat to take his business elsewhere that had cost Alejandro the deal he’d worked so hard to procure. Like it or not, the Laytons were responsible.

  But she could defend her motives without hesitation. “You haven’t proved anything to me, Alejandro. My only plan when I came to the Villa de Musica was to see the restoration. I didn’t plan to meet you, and I certai
nly didn’t plan to fall in love with you. It would have been so much easier if I’d never met you.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? Five long years, and she’d never really succeeded in forgetting him. Before he’d summoned her to Madrid she’d still been blissfully able to deceive herself that the years had done their work. But she hadn’t forgotten after all, and every day she spent with him only made the memories more painful.

  “Yes, it is hard to look a man in the eye before you cut him down,” he said, more to himself than to her, glancing at his watch. “I have no time for this now, but be assured I have no need to lie. It matters not whether you believe me.”

  “Then why did you say it?” she said, her throat tight. What if he was telling her the truth? What if she’d been as mistaken about his engagement as he had about her motives?

  He shrugged. “Because I am tired of your self-righteousness.”

  Rebecca blinked. “Self-righteousness?” Who was he kidding? He was the most self-righteous man on the planet. She snatched up the folder she’d been working on. She couldn’t deal with this right now. “I’m going inside now. Have a nice time.”

  Alejandro caught her arm as she turned away. “You’re coming with me.”

  “What? Where?” she stammered. He was wearing a tuxedo, not a casual pair of trousers and a shirt. Wherever he was going, she couldn’t show up in a tank top and wispy skirt. “I have work to do. I can’t go with you.”

  “This is not a request, Rebecca. You will come. Now.”

  “I don’t have anything suitable to wear,” she said, thrusting her chin up and stating the obvious. Or the not so obvious if the way he looked at her was any indication.

  “There is a boutique in the hotel. You will buy a dress. Now, come—we are out of time.”

  “But, Alejandro, really—”

  “Need I remind you I am the one in control here?” he ground out, slamming the door on her protest. “You have no choice, Rebecca.”