In the Argentine's Bed / Secret Baby, Public Affair. Yvonne Lindsay

the idea that his mother had an affair was preposterous, so he wasn’t afraid of the test results. Still, his cheerful mood had evaporated.

      So, she’d slept with him for purely practical purposes. Why did that bother him? He’d slept with her for his own reasons, which admittedly were far less complicated.

      Had no idea what he was getting into, either. He’d never met a woman like this. So cool and composed on the outside, so fiery and abandoned in his bed. Fascinating.

      Then this morning she confronted him with that prim smile. Reminded him that last night’s enjoyment was simply part of a cold-blooded business deal for her.

      Irritation spiked in his gut as he buckled his belt. Still, he was a man of honor, and he’d made a promise.

      He heard her moving about in the guest bedroom, and he entered without knocking. “My body is yours to do with as you like.”

      She dropped whatever she was packing in her bag and looked up. She looked nervous, so slender and delicate in her long black dress.

      He cocked his head. “Did I startle you?”

      She blinked and swallowed. Nervous. “I’m just getting my things together.”

      “I can see that. So what’s the plan? You extract my bodily fluids and head back to New York with them?” His eyes narrowed as a nasty thought crept over his brain. “Or did you already take what you were looking for?”

      Susannah swallowed. “No! I didn’t take anything.” She colored. “There’s a lab in Mendoza that can process the test. It would be best if you come there with me so they can take the sample themselves. That way there’s less risk of contamination, and you’ll be sure that no one, you know, tampered with…”

      She trailed off and tucked an imaginary lock behind her ear. A strange gesture since her long dark hair was secured in a tight chignon. Her dress buttoned to her neck and flared from the waist almost to her ankles.

      She looked every inch the prudish missionary’s daughter.

       Touch me not.

      But he knew better.

      “So you want me to accompany you into Mendoza?”

      “Well, I’d imagine you’d need to bring your own car…”

      “So you don’t have to drive me home again.” He tilted his head. “You think of all the details.”

      “And actually,” her hands trembled as she struggled with the zipper of her bag, “I ran out of gas on my way here so, I’m afraid I’ll need some before I can go anywhere.”

      Amado crossed his arms. “It appears that once again you are at my mercy. Lucky thing I’m a gentleman.” A wicked smile crept over his lips. “At least some of the time.”

      Her lips parted and she looked like she wanted to protest. He shouldn’t toy with her this way. She was obviously rather innocent and unschooled when it came to men, and she didn’t deserve to be teased.

      Still, she had slept with him. She was a grown-up. She knew what she was doing.

      And now they both knew she had a wild side.

      That intrigued him more than he could say. What other secrets hid beneath that that cool and demure exterior?

      Since Amado didn’t fancy cramming himself into her tiny rental car, they took his Mercedes sedan and arranged for one of his employees to drive her car back to town and meet him later.

      During the drive, they talked easily about the area and its history and Amado’s family. He got a strong sense that she didn’t believe he was this Hardcastle man’s son, either.

      “Will your boss be upset when you don’t bring back the results he’s expecting?”

      “I can’t see how he could be. Honestly, I don’t know anything about how they’re finding people or what they want. I do know he’s dying, though.”

      “From what?”

      “Prostate cancer. He wouldn’t mind me telling you. He and his wife have been active in trying to encourage people to get tested and seek treatment early. He says he ignored his symptoms for too long because he thought he was invincible.”

      Amado frowned. The illness made this foreign stranger seem more real to him. “Is he suffering?”

      “I’d imagine so. No one wants to die.” She looked out the window, to where the Andes rose in the distance. “This quest to find his lost children is keeping him going, from what I hear. It’s become a passion for him.”

      “But why does he want to find them?”

      “I think he wants to confront his past mistakes, or failings, or something. Face up to them before he dies.”

      “So he thinks I’m one of his past mistakes?” Amado couldn’t help laughing.

      “It does sound rude, put like that. He’s very rich, though. I suspect he wants to leave some of his vast fortune to them.”

      She looked at him with those dark, perceptive eyes. Studying him for signs of greed?

      Fifteen years ago, even five years ago, money might have been welcome as he tried to bring the estancia up to modern methods of production. The construction of the state-of-the-art winery had involved large and complicated loans.

      But now the vineyard was humming and prosperous. The last of the debts had been paid three years ago and they were seeing comfortable profit margins.

      “I don’t want his money or anyone else’s. Unless they’re buying my wine, of course.”

      For most of the drive, though, they didn’t talk about Tarrant Hardcastle at all. Susannah seemed to be enchanted by the beauty of the region. Once in the city, she marveled at the open ditches bringing water down from the mountains to irrigate the many trees and fountains. Amado explained the technique had been in use by the Huarpe people when the Spanish settlers first arrived, and it was the same system of aquecias that made lush vineyards possible today despite the low annual rainfall.

      The lab was on a quiet side street. Amado could tell Susannah was jittery as they pulled into a parking space. She laughed and exclaimed as he led her over one of the neat ditches that lined the city sidewalks. What did she stand to gain or lose from all of this?

      For her, it was a purely professional matter. However the results came out, she’d done her duty and could wash her hands of the situation.

      Of him.

      His muscles tightened with an uncomfortable mixture of irritation and longing. It infuriated him that she could spend the night with him—and such a night—then just walk away.

      She spoke quietly to the person behind the counter, prim and proper in her black dress with its row of buttons down the back.

      He couldn’t help wanting to unbutton them, one by one, and expose her smooth, olive skin. To lick the delicate bumps of her spine and layer soft kisses over her waist…

      He shoved a hand through his hair. No sense getting all worked up. He wasn’t required to donate sperm.

      “Come this way.” A uniformed nurse—or someone dressed like a nurse—ushered them through a door behind the reception desk. This whole situation gave him the creeps.

      Who knew what they were going to do with his private biological information? Maybe he’d end up accused of some crime or discover he carried the gene for a terminal illness.

      “Sit here, sir.”

      He lowered himself into the plastic chair and held his head high as the nurse stuck a long cotton swab into this mouth and rubbed it against his cheek. “All done.”

      “That’s it?” he asked, adrenaline pumping.

      That’s all it