A Spanish Passion. Carol Marinelli

stay married for one more year, until she came into her inheritance and could demonstrate that she was mature enough to handle it. By his own admission he was deeply ashamed of having made love to her. No—having had sex with her— ‘muddied the waters’, she corrected dully as she finally exited the en suite. And he’d probably make damn sure it didn’t happen again. He’d go back to what he had been: remote, often absent, impersonally kind. She simply didn’t think she could bear that!

      Was she the last woman on earth he would choose to be the mother of his children? Had he seen the steel jaws of a trap close around him when she’d mentioned the word ‘pregnant’?

      Her balloon well and truly pricked, Zoe put on the act of her life and went down to breakfast wearing a tiny pair of lemon yellow shorts, a skimpy, silky camisole top in a matching shade and a great big smile.

      Javier laid aside the morning broadsheet he’d been trying and failing to concentrate on, his wide chest tightening as his eyes locked onto his wife. She was exquisite; she put the sunlight that streamed into the room to shame. A truly vital presence, all silky, endless legs, shining silver-gilt hair, breasts enticingly peaked against the top she was wearing.

      He got to his feet, narrowed eyes watching as she returned Boysie’s ecstatic greeting, pulling out a chair for her when those long legs brought her to the breakfast table. She was wearing hot pink lipstick on those lush, kiss-swollen lips. His pulses quickened. He ignored them and poured her coffee.

      ‘Eat something,’ he ordered as the slice of toast she’d buttered was being cut into small pieces and fed to the dog. Had her appetite deserted her because she was fretting over the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy?

      Again he mentally flayed himself. He had hated the things Sherman had implied, but hated himself even more for having been unable to stop believing them. Which had led, in turn, to his inexcusable lack of protection.

      ‘We need to discuss our situation.’ Self-disgust put an edge on his voice, made her soft lips tremble before she clamped them forcibly together. She fed the last of the toast to the tail-thrashing bunch of fur then turned to face him, pushing her hair away from her face with the back of a slender hand, her magnificent eyes flashing with the old rebellion, the slender bones of her shoulders tense beneath the shimmery fabric of the top she was wearing.

      He sounded as if he thoroughly regretted their ‘situation’, as he so grimly named it, Zoe decided sinkingly. It was truly terrible to love to distraction when the object of all that emotional passion didn’t love you back, to have all your hopes of happiness and fulfilment dependent on just one man.

      But she wasn’t going to let him know what she was feeling. Still holding his silver-smoke eyes, she lifted her chin even higher just as Joe entered the room, grinning. ‘Pardon me, boss, but it’s time for his lordship’s morning walk. We usually go up through the woods and on down to the lake.’ He gave a low whistle and Boysie pricked up his ears and raced to the man in the doorway, his small body one huge hairy wag.

      ‘I’ll take him—’ Zoe was half out of her seat, unreasonable jealousy that her dog now recognised Joe as the leader of the pack making her voice shrill.

      But Javier’s hand reached out to clamp around her wrist, forcing her back, his, ‘Carry on, Joe,’ full of raw impatience.

      Rubbing her released wrist, Zoe glared at him, trying not to burst into tears. Not because of Boysie’s fickleness—if she was honest with herself she was glad the little stray had finally integrated into his new home and family. It had taken ages before he had stopped viewing Ethel with suspicion and even longer before he had been comfortable around Joe.

      No, it was Javier’s attitude that was breaking her heart. Last night she had felt as if they had at last found each other, their hearts and souls recognising each other just as their bodies had, and this morning it would seem that he wished he’d never set eyes on her!

      ‘I always take him for walks. That’s when you bother to turn up to bring me down here at weekends!’ Zoe knew she sounded petulant and childish. But she had to say something to explain away the sudden tears she could feel filling up her eyes. No way was she about to let him know that his patently obvious impatience with her and their cataclysmic unplanned change of marital situation was making her want to cry her eyes out!

      Javier leaned forward, his forearms on the table, a frown scoring a deep line between his slashing black brows. Judging by her reaction to her pet’s preference for Joe’s company, the poor kid was still needy, clinging onto love wherever she found it. ‘Let it go,’ he advised a touch more curtly than he’d intended before the image of how unchildlike she’d been in his arms last night had flashed across his brain and made his voice emerge like a shot from a gun.

      She was no kid—hadn’t he known that for months now? She was all woman. It had been her first time but she’d been a natural. He went hot just thinking about it. And not with shame, either.

      Shifting edgily in his seat, he told her, ‘Don’t be so intense about your feelings. They’re likely to rear up and slap you in the face. More coffee?’

      Zoe mutely shook her head. That was a warning, wasn’t it? Telling her not to read too much into what had happened last night, not to take it seriously.

      He looked into her glittering golden eyes, eyes to drown in, and the air in the sunny room was suddenly thick with sexual tension. She was so lovely. And she was his. It hadn’t been planned, in fact he’d fought what she’d been doing to him as soon as he’d recognised it for what it was.

      But what the hell? Their sham marriage had turned into vivid reality and he aimed to keep it that way. He would concentrate all his powers to make her forget she’d ever decided to walk away from him.

      The probably pompous discussion about their altered relationship was promptly jettisoned.

      What kind of fool had he been to think he could keep this beautiful, slightly elusive, bright and feisty creature by spouting a list of ground rules?

      A fool who hadn’t recognised the fact that he’d been falling in love, hook, line and sinker.

      But it was too soon to let her know that. She might have believed herself to be in love with him at age sixteen. An adolescent infatuation she’d grown out of. Must have done or she wouldn’t have been determined to walk out on him.

      He’d reel her in gently. Make sure she didn’t want to live without him.

      Leaning back in his chair, he relaxed utterly. He felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He always got what he wanted in the end. He made it happen. His mouth curved in a dazzling smile.

      As always Zoe drowned in the smile that had been absent for far too long, her body filling with primal need as the fluid grace with which he leaned back in his chair reinforced the myriad reasons she loved this man. And when he turned the shameless magic of his grin on her again and told her, ‘We fly out to Spain next week for a belated honeymoon,’ her wits scattered to the four corners of the room and she could only stare back at him, her cheeks reddening with pleasure, her mind in a muddle because she would never understand what was going on in his head from one minute to the next.

      But trying to find out would be exciting!

      CHAPTER SIX

      THE Spanish sun blazed down and the aquamarine sea glittered back at it with improbable intensity. The leaves of the overhanging eucalyptus tree moved with silvery languour in the slight, soft breeze.

      Zoe turned from staring down unseeingly at the tranquil view of the deserted sandy beach beyond the manicured gardens. Her lush mouth compressed into a tight line, she leant back against the ornate stone balustrade that surrounded the terrace that ran round three sides of the white-walled Moorish-style villa, her heart jumping beneath her breastbone as Javier emerged through an archway, a tray of cold drinks in his strong hands.

      He’d changed from the clothes he’d travelled in. Just looking at him made her feel light-headed. Her wretched mouth began to wobble again as her eyes drank in his spectacular