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

she could see was the subtle movement of muscles in his bronzed forearms and powerful hands as he worked the day’s tension—heck, the entire year’s tension—out of her muscles with a deft, firm touch.

      A long exhale escaped her.

      “Ahh.” Amado smiled as he looked up. His hands didn’t even pause in their expert massage. “Now you’re starting to relax.”

      His fingers worked his way up her instep and over her heel. Thank goodness she’d worn smart, silk panty hose.

      “You take good care of your feet.” Her sole buzzed deliciously as he went to work on the second foot. “They’re strong and healthy.”

      Susannah laughed. “They’d better be with all I put them through.”

      “Tomorrow, we’ll walk in the vineyards. You can stay tomorrow, can’t you?” The sudden concern in his eyes tugged at something inside her. Why did he care if she stayed or went?

      “I’ll be here. I can’t go home without your DNA. I could get fired.”

      Amado frowned and his fingers stopped their vigorous and soothing movements. “You’ll get fired by the guy who’s supposed to be my father? What kind of man is this?”

      “A demanding one.” She tried not to pay attention to the way he cradled her foot in his hands. “He expects the best from all his employees.”

      “Surely he can’t fire you for something I’ve done, or rather, refused to do?”

      “Sure he can. He’d see it as firing me for my failure to execute.”

      Amado looked thoughtful. Then he bent his head and resumed his precise massage. Susannah tried not to wriggle on the sofa as he nailed one pressure point after another, creating sensations of deep relaxation and startling pleasure.

      She allowed herself to sink back into the cushions. To let go.

       A night in Amado’s bed in exchange for the DNA sample.

      Her skin tingled at the prospect of those magic hands roaming…all over it. She suppressed a shiver of anticipation.

      She was sure he’d keep the bargain. There was something old-world about him. He positively reeked of honor and integrity.

      And sensuality. Their eyes met. Desire darkened his eyes and a spark of…something leaped between them.

      Amado settled her feet gently on the ground. He rose and crossed the room.

      She exhaled with relief as his intense and dangerously handsome presence receded into the shadows.

       Spend the night in my bed.

      His words from earlier—spoken half in jest, no doubt—seemed to hover in the air, thickening it. The crackling fire echoed the heat building and snapping inside her.

      She hadn’t made love in a long time.

      Actually—not to put too fine a point on it—she hadn’t made love ever. She’d had sex, but not for, oh…well, it was just plain embarrassing to think about how long it had been.

      She was busy.

      Always on the move.

      Was there something wrong with having a sensual fling with an interested male? People did it all the time.

      Her coworkers regaled their lurid exploits around the cappuccino machine in the office every Monday. Some of their stories made her jaw drop. They weren’t saving themselves for Mr. Right any more than they had been in college. They lived for the moment.

      They had fun.

      Why couldn’t she have some fun too, for a change?

      Her ears pricked up at an exchange between Amado and Rosa. A minute later she heard Rosa leave, closing the door behind her.

      She tensed in anticipation at the sound of Amado’s decisive footsteps on the polished floor. He reappeared with two steaming white mugs.

      And she’d get the DNA. Tarrant would be happy. She’d keep her job.

      If Amado wasn’t his son, which she suspected, there’d be no harm done.

      If he was, Amado would no doubt inherit some of Tarrant’s billions.

      The retail tycoon was terminally ill and might have only weeks to live. He was trying desperately to find and embrace his long-neglected, illegitimate offspring before he died.

      Either way, she’d be doing a good deed.

      Right?

      Amado handed her a mug. His dark eyes narrowed. “You have a strange expression on your face.”

      “Me?” She let out a high, false laugh. “I’m just getting mesmerized by the fire, or something.”

      Emphasis on the or something.

      She sniffed the contents of the cup. “Coffee at this time of night? Won’t it keep us awake?”

      Amado’s mouth hitched slightly on one side. Something resembling a smile—or rather a wicked grin—crept across his face so slowly she wondered if she was imagining it. “Sometimes it’s good to be awake at night.”

      He settled into the sofa beside her. Close. His muscled thigh brushed against her skirt.

      Her pulse quickened.

      The heat of his body mingled with the warmth of the fire and her own elevated body temperature.

      What if Tarrant found out she’d slept with the man he thought was his son?

      She swallowed hard. He wouldn’t.

      Amado would never tell. The old-world-honor thing. She sensed that he kept his emotions close to his chest. They’d spent hours together and while he’d talked about each of his wines like a beloved mistress, there’d been no mention whatsoever of his personal life.

      She also suspected that—like his charming vineyard tour and his expert foot massage—he did this quite often.

      Which, rather than alarming her, actually took the pressure off.

      She sensed his steady dark gaze on her as she sipped her drink. Mmm. Sticky, rich, dulce de leche sweetened the coffee.

      “Where does your family live now?”

      His question jarred her out of the sensual fog she’d drifted into. “You mean my parents?”

      He frowned. “Yes, and your brothers and sisters.”

      “I don’t have any brothers and sisters. There’s just me. My parents are back in the Philippines. They’re running a program there for at-risk teens.”

      “They sound like good people.”

      “They are. I wish I was more like them. Or at least I feel I should wish that. But someone’s got to devote their life to finding the best wines in the world, don’t you think?”

      Her words rang in the still air. Heat crept up her neck, embarrassment that she’d laid bare her insecurities.

      Amado didn’t blink. “Each of us has his or her own path. By trying to follow the wrong one, you do a disservice to yourself and to others.” He laid a big, reassuring hand on her arm. “And I can’t think of a more worthy pursuit than the quest for excellent wine.” He tilted his head and his eyes glittered. “But then, I’m biased.”

      Her arm heated under his palm. He was close enough that she could smell his scent. She distracted herself by trying to analyze it.

      Complex aroma, rich and appealing. A risky but invigorating blend of coffee, fermented grapes, burnt wood and hardworking male.

      Full and robust bouquet. The finish might well be bittersweet…but worth it.

      His palm moved over her forearm. Not really