He was making fun of her. Being silly. The spell broke. ‘I’m going home to Australia in two weeks. The less in-depth we “not talk” the better.’ She glanced around. ‘I’ll just find some tea and go.’
He studied her for a long moment, then reached over and pressed a bell. The stewardess appeared instantly. ‘Peppermint tea for Sister Wren, please, Mari.’
She nodded at him and smiled at Cleo. ‘At once, Don Felipe.’ The woman disappeared.
‘Please, take a seat. At least have your tea here.’
Cleo didn’t want to drink tea with him watching her. She wanted to take her tea and hide. Blow this.
Her chin lifted. ‘I believe I don’t deserve to feel at a disadvantage. I’m doing a job and, if I’m allowed the space, I will do it well.’
His face turned serious as he leaned forward. ‘My apologies if you feel at a disadvantage. There is no disadvantage to you that I am not feeling as well. Please, stay for a few moments.’ He waited for her to consider that.
Reluctantly, she sat, straight backed, on one of the lounges. It wasn’t comfortable in that position but at least there was a shelf to put her tea on when it came. And it wasn’t within reaching distance of him.
‘How are Sofia and the baby?’ His voice was quiet. Conversational. As if considerate of her equilibrium. Well, thank goodness for that. Maybe they had got off on the wrong foot today with all the underlying emotions.
She didn’t want to be the creator of the unneeded drama she disliked so much. They were both in this together, after all.
She collected her thoughts. Concentrated on providing a sensible answer. ‘Settled. They have slept well between feeds.’
‘And you?’
She looked up. ‘A couple of hours as well. Thank you. Your aircraft is comfortable and your staff very helpful. Do you sleep on flights?’
‘I don’t sleep much at all.’ Another raised brow. Again, her cheeks heated. She could attest to that.
Darn it, she just knew that when she lifted her eyes from her lap he would be watching her with a wicked smile on his face. One that she badly wanted to wipe off. She looked up. Yep.
Instead, to the surprise of both of them, she laughed. ‘Boy, this is awkward.’
The tension in his shoulders seemed to fall away. A slow smile, his austere face softening into that of another man. That other man. ‘Thank you for your honesty. You are good for me, Cleo. I try not to be so serious with you.’
‘Can I ask a question?’
He shrugged, the smile still playing around his lips. ‘I do not have to answer you but yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me who you really were and why you were in Australia?’
He was silent and she thought he wasn’t going to answer. She hadn’t really expected him to. ‘Because that was not who I was when I was with you. And it felt good.’
She remembered the look in his eyes when she’d changed her mind about shutting him out to inviting him into her home. The connection of two damaged people that had shimmered between them. And that’s enough of that, she told herself, or she’d be feeling sorry for him and she wasn’t ready for that.
She changed the subject quickly. ‘One more.’
He nodded.
‘Was it the right thing to remove Sofia from her fiancé at this crucial time?’
‘Yes.’ No hesitation. Implacable. He leaned closer. ‘The man...’ his lip curled over the word ‘man’, his voice pitched very low so as not to carry ‘...apart from the mistress I already mentioned, had already begun to siphon money from her bank account. Large amounts Sofia had not agreed to. His removal was just in time.’
Cleo blew out a long breath. What a sleaze. Poor Sofia. No. Lucky Sofia. She had a family who supported her, even if autocratically. When Cleo’s ex-husband had left her broke and broken-hearted for another woman, she’d had no family to save her. But she’d had her friends. Jen, for one.
‘Let us talk about ourselves instead of Sofia.’ Felipe’s voice cut into her thoughts. She stilled at the velvet tone of his words.
Brought her head up. ‘I don’t think so.’
He leaned forward. ‘Do not be embarrassed.’
With a swish of the curtains the stewardess arrived with a loaded tray and Felipe sat back. Even from a few paces away Cleo could smell the peppermint. A selection of tiny sandwiches sat on a plate to the left and round sugar biscuits to the right.
Cleo forced a smile. ‘Thank you.’
The stewardess nodded. ‘De nada.’ Then turned and disappeared again. Could Cleo pick up the tray and walk away? She could.
But she didn’t. ‘I’m not embarrassed.’ Much. ‘As you said at the time, what happened was between consenting adults.’ She waved her free hand. ‘Now that night is over, and there is no more consent.’
But she didn’t quite meet his eyes.
‘But it is hard to pretend that I did not taste your sweetness or spend a night in your bed.’
Now she stood. To heck with the tea. ‘I’m sure you are perfectly capable of subterfuge, Don Felipe.’ She raised her own brows pointedly. ‘What’s the alternative?’ That she be at his sexual beck and call while in Barcelona? Not happening.
‘Of course. You’re right.’ He made a low noise in his throat. ‘But I wonder now if this can be hidden? When I watch you move I can think only of what lies beneath your clothes.’ She gasped and his hand immediately wiped that comment away. ‘I should not have said that. My apologies again.’
She couldn’t rid herself of it so easily. ‘I regret that you are in this position,’ she said stiffly. But it wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it herself. Repeatedly.
‘And yet I do not regret anything.’ He stood. ‘Except not being more honest with you. I will leave you to have your tea in peace.’
The steam from the ornate spout of the teapot rose between them like a wall. ‘Thank you.’ Cleo looked away from him to the waiting cup, then back.
Felipe turned as quietly as she knew he could. And the way he walked carried her straight back to a steamy flamenco dance floor and a serious case of the wants.
Had she done the right thing in shutting him down?
Shutting down any discussion about something that could only bring discomfort to both of them. She didn’t think so. There had been a spark, well, a roaring flame, actually, between them, which left an ache somewhere in her chest, but he was of the aristocracy and lived in Spain.
She had her own life, seventeen thousand kilometres away from him. And to cap it all off, she was temporarily working for the man.
But most of all, she suspected, with how quickly she had fallen under his spell, she could be hurt far worse than her ex-husband had hurt her if she let herself get in any deeper.
CHAPTER NINE
FELIPE WALKED AWAY from Cleo because if he didn’t, he could quite conceivably reach out and pull her into his arms and forget all restraint. Apart from being morally despicable, it would be the absolute worst thing he could do in view of the coming two weeks of forced proximity.
Yet a part of him said this was his aircraft, his staff, and as long as she agreed to him kissing her then most of those with them were asleep and would not know.
He could have pressed the button for privacy so nobody would have entered the lounge, and once he had her in his arms she would have been his.
Which was exactly the sort of thing his father would have done. He had used women and discarded them, including those who’d worked for him. Both for pleasure and for political gain. This lack of principles was not Felipe’s way and had strengthened the rift between father and son when Felipe had made his disgust known. It was not how he wanted to live his life.
But morality was a good enough reason not to take Cleo into his arms again.
He paused at one of the exit doors and leaned his hand against th
e bulkhead. Stared blindly out through the oval window into the blackness beyond and searched for answers.
Even now, he could feel the soft weight of her in his arms, the warmth beneath his fingers as he traced the line of her shoulder, the curve of her cheek, the feel of a pulse beating in secret places and the absolute silk of her thighs.
He shook himself. This was not normal. He’d never felt such honesty between himself and a woman as he had on Saturday night—and now that was shattered because she felt he had tricked her by withholding his real identity.
Certainly, Cleo had not been chasing the Gonzales name or fortune, unlike many others in his past. And even now, when she knew who he was, he could tell that wealth was the least of his attraction to her. But there was still that sizzling chemistry between them, that moment when she’d looked at him and spoken with absolute truth, ‘Boy, this is awkward.’ He smiled at the memory. His Cleo. She remembered his body as well.
Something of this woman had attached itself to him and created a bond that he’d walked away from, and now fate had sprung him back to her side like an elastic band. Snapping them together in the closeness of Sofia’s orbit.
The question was, did he fight to stay or fight to get away?
Carlos appeared beside him. ‘Don Felipe? May I do anything for you?’
‘No. Rest, Carlos. I will go to my suite.’ For a cold shower, though he didn’t say it. ‘Thank you.’
CHAPTER TEN
BARCELONA GREETED THE travellers with blue skies, a gentle tepid breeze and a blaze of colour as they stepped onto the tarmac from the aircraft.
Travelling via private jet had been a whole new experience for Cleo and certainly less bothersome than following a wheelchair through customs.
Except for the fact that the man she’d slept with owned the plane and twenty-four hours flight time was a long time in Felipe’s aircraft.
She still wasn’t sure how she was going to stay sane for the next two weeks.
She appreciated the fact that Felipe had left her to drink her tea in peace.
Unfortunately, peace had been hard to come by and she’d spent many hours nervous she would run into him again.
You couldn’t just forget about a man you’d recently shared the most intimate moments with.
The most improbable thing about this whole situation was that she’d actually had her first one-night stand, for goodness’ sake. She’d have to blame it on the flamenco. The wicked dance was probably designed for just that reason. Blatant sensual arousal.
Now, watching the muscled back and strong shoulders of the man in front as he carried the baby’s bassinet, there were tantalising glimpses of that stalking arrogant walk that had so mesmerised her that night.
But she was here for two weeks to help Sofia. She needed to stay concentrated on that goal. She could do that. She was a professional. Her gaze shifted to Sofia, who followed her baby’s bassinet mutinously. Cleo dropped back to allow the warring parties to go ahead.
Sofia had shared her disquiet already, at returning to Spain, and Cleo had felt like saying, Why don’t the two of us just go home to Australia, then? Man, she’d been so tempted.
But that wasn’t her job.
Her job was to ignore any awkward past between the boss and herself and get Sofia settled so she could see her grandmother. Then her client could decide what she wanted to do.
Five minutes later they were gliding through heavy traffic as they were swept from the airport to the city in another of Felipe’s cars. Same driver.
Unlike Felipe’s black limousines, everywhere else in Barcelona lay with a palette of colour. Flower beds, apartments, avant-garde artworks standing in parks or at street corners, bright hues shone and lifted the ordinary to the extraordinary. Even advertising billboards seemed bigger and more vibrant.
Cleo had seen photos of the city online, but in the frolicsome flesh Barcelona pulsed with sunshine and fun. She wished she’d come with Jen and not with Felipe and Sofia.
Before she’d realised who paid her wages, she’d hoped to explore Gaudi’s gardens and architecture towards the end of her stay. She did wonder if keeping her head above the emotional water of avoiding Felipe would impact on any light-hearted sightseeing. She’d just have to push through that because she could see now there was so much more of this amazing city to soak in.
Across from her, Sofia fidgeted with a slim diamond ring on her finger and Cleo’s heart went out to her. Sofia had told her she didn’t believe everything Felipe had said about her ex-fiancé or that he’d taken her money. So he’d arranged for her to see her bankers soon after their arrival here. Despite everything that had happened between herself and Felipe, Cleo did believe him.
Sofia would undoubtedly feel the eyes of the gossips on her. For Sofia, a member of an elite family in the city, she’d be known to many. It would not be comfortable to return home after being heartbroken and made a fool.
Cleo silently agreed it wasn’t at all comfortable from the midwife’s point of view either.
Though she was far from heartbroken. And she didn’t believe Felipe was a bad man. There were no hearts involved in their situation. No, siree. Just a night between two consenting adults. She couldn’t even blame alcohol as one glass hadn’t caused her to fall into Felipe’s arms.
But no one knew, she reassured herself.
As long as Sofia had no idea how hard Cleo worked not to feel embarrassed by Felipe’s hip next to hers every time they drove somewhere, then all would be well. She had to believe that.
The tingle of Felipe’s gaze infiltrated her awareness, but she refused to turn her head away from the window to acknowledge him. It was hard enough shutting him out. So she stared at the city and gave Sofia privacy with her thoughts as well.
Thankfully, the scenery flew past in myriad colours and surprises and Isabella lay asleep in her bassinet to allow everyone their own thoughts.
Felipe touched her arm. It seemed he would not be ignored.
She turned her head. He sat forward and indicated the streetscape with his long, elegant fingers. ‘The most beautiful city in the world.’ His smile and his words carried her back to their first walk together.
Ah. A warm memory. She was sorry now that she’d ignored him. It wasn’t like her to be petty. ‘Just like Sydney.’ Their gazes locked. Both smiled and she looked away. That way lay dragons.
Sofia, who’d leaned towards her own window, also wore a slight smile on her parted lips. Perhaps not all her memories of Barcelona were uncomfortable.
The further they drove into the city the brighter Sofia became. Cleo could see Felipe noted his cousin’s unconscious uplift of mood but thankfully didn’t mention it.
Small mercies, Cleo thought. If these two could forget their differences, life would be easier for all of them.
‘We will come back this way later when Sofia has rested. My grandmother lives in the city. My place of residence is a little farther up the mountain at Sarrià-Sant Gervasi.’
‘And where am I to be staying?’ Sofia asked with a tinge of bitterness that flattened Cleo’s hopes of peace.
‘You will stay with me in your own apartments for now, until your plans are decided, as will your nurse.’
‘Midwife,’ Cleo corrected mildly. ‘Sofia doesn’t need a nurse.’ Then before he could answer she said, ‘Do we pass your grandmother’s home on the way?’
She wondered if Sofia had a Spanish home of her own or other relatives as well as Felipe, even distant ones. Others who could agree with him and help Sofia see she’d needed to come back at least to see her grandmother. She knew Sofia’s parents had passed away, but why had Felipe been chosen to go and get her?
‘No. Doña Luisa has an apartment in the Eixample Dreta. We do not pass it. Tonight, possibly, we will visit my grandmother once I have ascertained that she is well enough for guests.’
&nb
sp; Sofia scowled and turned her head away but didn’t say anything. Isabella gave a mewl of distress and Sofia and Cleo both looked across at the bassinet.
The young woman gave an audible exhalation and relaxed her shoulders. ‘Like a contraction,’ she murmured.
Good girl, Cleo thought, but the comment left her struggling not to laugh out loud.
Felipe’s brows furrowed at the joke he was clearly not included in but nobody enlightened him.
‘You said you have visited Spain before?’ Felipe’s voice broke into her thoughts.
‘Yes, but not this part of Spain. I’ve escorted patients from Madrid and Valencia but both were rapid extractions of ill clients and all my concentration was on them.’
‘Perhaps after Sofia has found her feet you will have an opportunity to explore.’
‘Perhaps. It’s up to Sofia.’ And how badly I’ll need to get back home and away from you for my own peace of mind. Maybe she wouldn’t see much of him even if they lived in his house. ‘Do you have a place of work?’
‘Sí. The hospice. Perhaps I will show you.’
She waited but nothing else came. ‘Do you have a normal day-to-day job there? What do you do?’
‘Ah, I should have said earlier in the aircraft. I am a doctor. Do you have much knowledge of oncology?’
What? The dancer in her mind moved even further away. The unexpected offering of information made her blink. ‘A little.’
She thought about two more recent clients she’d met and become friends with. ‘Occasionally terminal clients require support to return home after a more rapid decline in health than expected. I believe nothing is more important than to make their comfort and fulfilment of their wishes a priority at the end of life.’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ Then, almost to himself, ‘I should not be surprised you say that.’
‘You are an oncologist? And...a hospice director?’
Second Chance in Barcelona Page 7