One Night: Latin Heat: Uncovering Her Nine Month Secret / One Night With The Enemy / One Night with Morelli. Jennie Lucas

to look away, as his lips moved to shape a single word.

      “Why?”

      I swallowed, sweeping my hand to indicate the elaborate decorations and luncheon spread down the long table.

      “She loves you. And you love her.” I shook my head and blurted out, “All this time I’ve been moaning about my family in London. I feel so stupid for complaining about my childhood—while all the time, you yourself—”

      He put his hand on my cheek. “It doesn’t matter now.”

      Our eyes locked. I caught my breath, feeling the warmth of his fingertips brushing my skin. Feeling how much, deep inside, I wanted him to touch me. On my cheek. Down my neck. Everywhere. Unwillingly, I licked my lips.

      But I couldn’t give in. I couldn’t surrender. If I ever gave him my body, as I’d done the year before, my heart would follow. And I didn’t think my shattered heart could survive when he betrayed me as he inevitably would—hadn’t he told me as much himself?

      Is there anything you’re not good at?

      Keeping promises.

      I pulled back, suddenly desperate to get away from the dangerous energy sizzling between us.

      “You love each other. You’re a family.” My voice trembled, betraying me. “I want you to be happy.”

      He suddenly leaned forward, his eyes dark.

      “What would make me happy,” he said huskily, “is having you in my bed. Right now.”

      I sucked in my breath. My body trembled.

      “No,” I whispered.

      His dark eyes met mine. “We both know how this will end.”

      He was right. He was right.

      “Thank Maurine for me....” Setting down my silverware, I stumbled to my feet, tossing my napkin over my half-empty plate. “I’m done....”

      And I ran.

      Tears blurred my eyes as I fled the dining hall, into the shadowy hallway. I dodged antique chests and an old suit of armor, only to run straight into Maurine.

      “My dear, whatever is the matter?” she said, looking astonished.

      “I just need some—some fresh air,” I choked out.

      “Of course.” Looking bewildered, with my baby still smiling and happy in her arms, she pointed to a door down the hall. “That leads to the gardens....”

      I ran down the dark hallway, beneath the cool, thick stone walls of the castillo. Flinging open the door, I found myself beneath the bright, hot Spanish sun and the softly waving palm trees. I kept going, almost blindly—wanting only to be away from the castle. From the man who owned it.

      Just as he now owned me.

      But he would not own my heart, I vowed to myself, wiping my eyes. Not my heart and not my body...no matter how he might tempt me otherwise. I couldn’t give in. I couldn’t....

      I ran down the stone path, past green hedges and huge oak trees with soft, full greenery, past a pond and a picturesque gazebo in an English-style garden, past something that looked like a hedge maze straight out of Alice in Wonderland. Choking out a sob, I abruptly stopped. I found myself in a rose garden, surrounded by a profusion of colorful blooms, gentle yellow, soft pink, innocent white and a blaze of red like heart’s blood.

      “Lena.”

      His voice was low behind me. Shocked, I whirled around.

      “How did you...?”

      Alejandro stood in front of me, dark and tall and powerful. Colorful roses and the primal green of the garden hemmed us in on every side, like a riotous jungle. “I know this garden. It’s been my home since I was a child.”

      The sun left a frost of golden light against his dark hair, like a halo, tracing down the length of his body, his tanned, olive-toned skin, his sharp cheekbones, his hard-muscled body that moved with such sensual grace.

      “I won’t sleep with you,” I breathed. “I won’t!”

      His cruel, sensual lips curved.

      “We both know you will.” I watched, mesmerized, as the words caused his tongue to flick against the edges of his lips, into the warm, dark honey of his mouth. I remembered how it had felt when he’d kissed me last night. My lips still felt bruised, from the sweet remnants of that fire. “You want me. As I want you.”

      “I won’t let you take me because I am convenient.” I shook my head fiercely. “You can’t have me now, Alejandro!”

      He came closer, towering above me, our bodies so near they almost touched.

      “Can’t I?” he said huskily.

      I stared up at him, shivering. Sunshine shimmered in the greenery around Alejandro, making the flowers gleam like colorful lights, the roses like tumbled scarlet against the deep forest green, the leaves and thorns and tangling vines.

      Reaching out, he stroked a long tendril of my hair. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you in the hallways of that London mansion, watching me with such longing in your eyes.” He lifted his gaze. “I wanted you then. I want you now. And I will have you.”

      His dark eyes were like deep pools, illuminated by streaks of amber in the sunlight. The kind of eyes that make you lose your breath, the kind a woman could drown in.

      The kind of eyes that could make a woman forget a whole lifetime of grief and everything she should have learned from it.

      He wanted me. The thought was like a flower. Like one of those beautiful, hardy, deeply poisonous oleander flowers I’d seen growing along the Spanish highway.

      He wanted me.

      “We are married now,” he said.

      “For Miguel’s sake.”

      “Sí. We married for the sake of our son.” He followed me, his powerful body intent, with his dark hair and his dark clothes, like a stalking panther. “But that is not why I want you in my bed.”

      “But I can’t trust you—”

      He straightened, his face dangerous. “Why do you think that?”

      “You said you lied to me and will lie again. You said you’re no good at keeping promises....”

      Alejandro looked away. “That was about...something else.” He looked back at me. “I will always keep my promises to you.”

      “But how can I believe that?” I whispered, my heart running like a scared deer.

      “Because it’s true.” He moved closer, running his hand down my long, loose hair, down my back. I shivered beneath the soft, seductive touch. Lifting his hand, he stroked my cheek as he whispered, “Be with me. Be my wife.”

      My whole body trembled, leaning toward him.

      “And if you still think you can’t trust me...” His fingers gently stroked my cheeks, lifting my chin as he said softly, “Trust this.”

      Lowering his head, he pressed his lips against mine. I felt his warmth, his power, the strength of his body. I closed my eyes, lost, dizzy with desire. When he finally pulled away, I stared up at him, trembling.

      “Please,” I choked out. I lifted my gaze to his. Please don’t make me love you. “Please don’t make me want you....”

      He rubbed the pads of his thumbs along my swollen lower lip, and gave me a smile that was breathtaking in its masculine triumph. “Too late.”

      In the distance, I heard Maurine calling from the castle. I twisted my head, listening, and so did he.

      Alejandro suddenly cupped my face in his hands. His eyes were dark. Merciless. “Tonight,” he