The Mills & Boon Stars Collection. Cathy Williams

put his hand in the small of her back to support her, just the way he had once done with Elizabeth.

      Except that Elizabeth had been almost as tall as him—while Isabella seemed such a tiny little thing beside him. Why, she barely came up to his shoulder. And yet looks could be deceptive—he knew how tough she could be. You only had to see her astride an excitable horse, expertly subduing it into submission, to realise how strong she could be. He had never imagined that she could look almost frail.

      ‘Come on,’ he said softly. ‘Lean against me.’

      Too sleepy to refuse, she allowed him to guide her upstairs and into a bedroom, where there was a large bed with a duvet lying invitingly folded back.

      ‘Get undressed now,’ he whispered, as she flopped down on the mattress and sighed.

      ‘Nnnng!’ She pillowed her head on her hands, and closed her eyes.

      ‘Isabella!’ he said sternly. ‘Get yourself ready for bed, unless you want me to do it for you!’

      Her eyes snapped open. This was no dream. Paulo was here. Right here. And he was threatening to undress her! ‘I can manage. Really.’

      He gave her a narrow-eyed look of assessment, only really believing her when she unclipped her gold wristwatch and slid it down over the narrow wrist.

      ‘Goodnight,’ he said abruptly.

      ‘Goodnight, Paulo.’

      He left the door slightly ajar, so that the light from the corridor would penetrate the room if she woke. She would not flounder around frightened in the middle of the night in unfamiliar darkness.

      But he was restless. Too restless for newspapers or the stack of paperwork he kept in the study, and which always needed attention. He drank some coffee and showered, and then slipped naked into bed, the cool sheets lying like silk against his bare skin while he lay and thought about the woman in the next room and who had made her pregnant. And how she could be persuaded to return to her own country—because surely that was the only rational option open to her.

      He scowled up into the blackness, wondering why the idea of that should disturb him so.

      In the end he gave up on sleep and decided that maybe he would tackle that paperwork after all. He pulled on a pair of jeans and shrugged a black T-shirt over his head, and on his way downstairs he paused briefly to look in on Isabella.

      She was curled up on her side, facing the door, and from this angle the curve of her belly hardly showed at all. With the light from the corridor falling across the sculpted contours of her face and her lips slightly parted in sleep, it was easy to forget why she was here. Easy to imagine her being in a bed in his house for another reason entirely…

      Paulo swiftly turned away and went downstairs.

      He went through his papers on autopilot, gradually reducing the pile to a few sheets which his secretary could deal with tomorrow. He glanced down at his watch and yawned. Today, he should say. Better get to bed.

      But he switched his computer on and began playing Solitaire.

      He must have been dozing because he didn’t hear the front door opening or clicking to a close. Nor did he hear soft footsteps approaching his study. In fact, the first indication that he had a visitor came from the sound of laboured breathing from just outside the door.

      His eyes snapped open, his senses immediately on full alert, as he acknowledged that something had aroused him. He willed the aching fullness to subside.

      ‘Bella?’ he called softly. ‘Is that you?’

      ‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ came an acid female reply. ‘It’s only me.’

      He sat up straight as a tall, slim figure walked into the room and frowned at her in disbelief. ‘Judy?’

      ‘Yes, Judy!’ came the sarcastic reply. ‘Why, did you think it was your little Brazilian firecracker?’

      He reached out to click a further light on, his eyes briefly protesting against the bright glare as he stared at the woman standing uninvited before him.

      The artificial light emphasised her pale-haired beauty—her long, willowy limbs and the pellucid blue eyes set in an alabaster skin. She wore jeans and an expensive-looking sheepskin jacket. And an expression he recognised instantly as a potent cocktail of lust and jealousy. He kept his face completely neutral.

      ‘Hello, Judy,’ he said softly, carefully. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

      She raised her eyebrows and laughed. ‘You made that obvious enough.’

      He kept his voice steady. ‘I didn’t realise you still had a key.’

      ‘That’s what keeps life so interesting, isn’t it, Paulo? These little surprises.’

      He sighed. ‘Judy, I don’t want a scene.’

      ‘No. It’s pretty obvious from your greeting just what you do want!’

      ‘Meaning?’

      ‘Is that woman is staying here? She is, isn’t she?’

      ‘You mean Isabella?’ he asked coldly.

      Judy scowled, ignoring the warning note in his voice. ‘You know damned well I do! You thought I was her when I came in, didn’t you? “Bella”! Well, I’m so sorry to disappoint you, Paulo! How long is she planning on staying for?’

      Paulo didn’t react. The only movement in his face was the dark warning which glittered from his eyes. ‘I don’t think that this is a good time to have this conversation,’ he said carefully. ‘Apart from which, it’s really none of your business.’

      For a moment her face looked almost ugly as different emotions worked their way across it.

      ‘She’s the reason you dumped me, isn’t she?’ she demanded. ‘You were never the same after she came here to see you. I could see it in your eyes that day. You were really hot for her, weren’t you, Paulo? In a way you never were for me. Not once.’

      His mouth hardened as he realised that she had no idea that Isabella was pregnant. And he had no intention of telling her. He carried on as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘I’m actually very tired, so if you don’t mind…’

      Judy stiffened as she read the rejection in his features. ‘What’s she got that I haven’t, Paulo?’ she pleaded. ‘Just tell me that.’

      He shook his head. ‘Go home,’ he whispered. ‘Go home now, before it’s too late.’

      Her eyes lit up as she completely misinterpreted his words. ‘For what? Too late to resist me, you mean? Well, maybe I don’t want you to resist me. Maybe I want what you’re trying to resist, just as badly as you do. What does it matter? I won’t tell.’ She moved towards the desk and the overpowering scent of her perfume invaded his senses and deadened them. ‘Come on, Paulo—what do you say? For old times’ sake.’

      He shook his head, felt distaste whipping up his spine like a ragged fingernail. ‘No.’

      ‘No?’ She flicked her pale hair back. ‘Sure?’

      This really was astonishing, thought Paulo. A beautiful blonde begging him for sex. It was most red-blooded men’s ideal fantasy and yet all he could think of was that she was going to wake the pregnant woman who lay sleeping upstairs.

      ‘Quite sure. Keep your voice down.’ He flattened his voice as the needs of his body fought with the demands of his mind. ‘And I think it’s better if you go right now.’

      ‘And what if I stay and do…this…?’ Her hand swooped towards him and he knew immediately just where she intended to touch him.

      ‘I don’t want you to.’ With razor-sharp reflexes, he snapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her. ‘I don’t want you to,’ he repeated deliberately. ‘Ever again. Got that?’