Housekeeper at His Command: The Spaniard's Virgin Housekeeper / His Pregnant Housekeeper / The Maid and the Millionaire. Caroline Anderson

time in her life she was consumed by a deplorable lust for a man who was as far out of her league as the moon!

      CHAPTER SIX

      LUST could be conquered. Couldn’t it?

      Of course it could, Izzy reassured herself wildly as Cayo entered the sumptuous suite she’d been given through an interconnecting door that led, presumably, to his rooms. It was an intimacy she wasn’t in the least ready for.

      No need to get all hot and bothered, she assured herself shakily, trying her best not to look as agitated as she felt. He was now wearing a pale grey silk-sheened suit that screamed top designer and enhanced his wide shoulders, narrow waist, snaky hips and long, powerful legs with classy and understated elegance.

      He took her breath away.

      Tearing her eyes from him with difficulty, she stared down at her toes. When he’d piloted the helicopter from Las Palomas to a private airstrip on the outskirts of Madrid he’d been wearing cargo pants and a torso-hugging sweatshirt, and she’d thought that she’d never seen a man who exuded such raw sexuality. She had spent most of the flight listening to his occasional comments through the headphones and telling herself to start thinking like a sensible adult. Admiring such a fine specimen of manhood was perfectly natural. But wanting—literally aching—to get up close and personal was right out of order.

      Now, dressed as he was, the raw sexuality was still there in spades, but there was something extra. Power. Mastery. And that was scary—especially as her heart was racing, her pulses fluttering alarmingly, shameful hunger coiling deep in her pelvis.

      She wished he’d say something to break the tension she could feel all around her, but when he did she wished he hadn’t.

      ‘If you’re rested and ready, we’ll go. I have a car waiting.’

      Rested? Some hope!

      She’d been pacing her room as if her legs had discovered the secret of perpetual motion ever since she’d arrived at this eye-poppingly luxurious hotel, which he’d casually informed her he owned—among loads of others. Part of his property portfolio, apparently. She’d been wondering what she was doing here, and beating herself up for so weakly agreeing to come in the first place. The leopard, it seemed, had changed his spots, and was being really, really nice to her. And she didn’t think she could handle that because she could only just about keep her lustful yearnings under control when he was being vile.

      And now he was suggesting—still in that warmly considerate tone—that if she was ready they were to go somewhere together.

      She parted her lips to ask where, but all that emerged was an embarrassing croak. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, avoided his stunning eyes and managed, ‘I’ll pass. You go. Wherever.’

      Nice try, Cayo admitted grudgingly. Conversation had been limited on the helicopter flight, but she’d hung on his every word when he’d pointed out places and buildings of interest as the chauffeur-driven limo had whisked them through the suburbs and into the centre of the city. She had only withdrawn into her secret thoughts when he’d made sure she knew he owned the hotel they were to stay at. One of many throughout the world, and all of the same exquisite quality, he’d told her, as if he were used to vulgar boasting when nothing could be further from the truth.

      In any other domestic servant he would have put her current subdued mood down to being out of her depth. But with Izzy Makepeace he knew better. She would be mentally totting up the value of this prime property, multiplying it by many, adding it to his export empire and licking her lips and planning tactics!

      His chiselled mouth twisted wryly. But his drawl was smooth and soft as silk as he advanced, ‘I don’t think Madame Fornier would appreciate if it I attempted to try on the clothes she’s laid aside in your stead.’

      In dire danger of totally losing it, Izzy struggled to contain a sudden and alarmingly hysterical explosion of giggles at the picture that immediately presented itself—this ultra-masculine Spanish aristo trying to shoehorn himself into something several sizes too small, silky and slinky. Her eyes were sparkling with dancing laughter lights as she plucked her bulgy padded cotton handbag from the bed and slung it over her shoulder, stuffed her feet back into the spiky high heels she’d worn as a much-needed confidence booster, and announced, ‘Fine. Let’s go.’

      Grab the first halfway suitable dress to wear to a ball she didn’t want to attend and her ordeal would be over. They could head back to the castle and Miguel’s easy, safe company. There was only so much of the magnificent Cayo Garcia’s undiluted, sexy presence she could take without turning into a gibbering wreck of raging hormones.

      Standing aside as she preceded him through the door, Cayo’s eyes narrowed cynically as she swayed ahead of him at speed, on those ridiculously teetering heels. He deplored the way the enticing movement of her shapely backside awoke his most basic primal instincts, harshly reminding himself that the mention of a new wardrobe had got her moving as if she’d been shot from a cannon. Her big blue eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree at the thought of getting her hands on a whole bunch of freebies.

      She couldn’t hide her greed, he thought with distaste—then promptly reminded himself that her greed was what he was working on. Cocoon her in luxury, shower her with gifts, demonstrate what it was like to live in the lap of luxury, totally spoiled and pampered, and she would switch her avaricious attention from his clueless uncle to him. Mission accomplished.

      And then Miss Izzy Makepeace would receive one large and unpleasant surprise.

      His wide, sensual mouth quirked with satisfaction as he caught up with her and laid a seemingly friendly arm across her narrow shoulders, guiding her towards the waiting car. ‘It’s not far. My driver will wait to take us on to the restaurant—we have a table booked for nine o’clock.’ He eased her into the rear seat. ‘He will then take your purchases back to the hotel.’

      Leaning forward, he spoke rapidly in his own language to the driver, and as he settled himself beside her Izzy slid into the far corner. ‘I could eat back at the hotel—have something in my room,’ she objected.

      She was already really, really nervous around him—terrified of the effect he had on her. Sharing dinner with him in some upmarket restaurant would be too much. Besides, dressed as she was, in a crumpled cotton skirt and one of her ordinary old T-shirts, she’d look horribly out of place. An excuse he’d understand, surely?

      ‘I’d rather—honestly. And in any case I’m not dressed to go any place fancy,’ she stressed as the car drew out into the early-evening traffic.

      She stole a look at him from beneath long, fringing lashes and felt her heart stop, then flutter on. Angled from the corner, his eyes met hers. He was smiling. He was gorgeous! She felt dizzy.

      ‘Nonsense.’ His voice was like a slow, sexily warm caress. ‘It is your first time in Madrid, yes? I insist you enjoy our city, and you won’t do that by hiding in a hotel room.’

      She had turned away from him now, her head downbent on the slender stalk of her neck, her glorious hair hiding her profile. But he wasn’t falling for the shrinking violet act—just as he hadn’t fallen for her story placing Augustin del Amo as the villain of the piece. It hadn’t rung true.

      He had no liking for the man, but he didn’t need a degree in psychology to understand that as a highly respected banker—regardless of his alleged discreet extra-marital tendencies—he would have far too much sense to foul his own nest. And Izzy Makepeace had been working for him, living under his roof.

      Del Amo might have described her—accurately—as a ‘lush little package’, but with his business and social standing, and his wife’s gimlet eyes on him, that would have been as far as it went. Del Amo might be many things he disliked, but he wasn’t a fool.

      Cayo snapped out of his thoughts as the car came to a stop. Relieving his driver of the necessity, he strode round to hand the tricky little madam out, reflecting that she wouldn’t be able to hide her true colours when her greedy eyes fell on the delights