‘Getting out of the wind and rain,’ was the laconic reply as he raked one hand through the black hair that had been blown over his forehead, pushing it back away from his face.
The howling gale had messed the normally sleek black hair wildly and sparkled it with raindrops and the cold had made his skin glow, the silvery eyes gleaming brilliantly. He had never looked so vividly, so vibrantly alive and the sight of him sent a rush of blood through every vein, bringing with it a flurry of memories of how it had felt to be in his arms, his kisses on her mouth, his hands caressing her skin. She could feel the hot blood flood her cheeks and prayed he would take it as being put there by anger at his reappearance.
‘I told you not to come back unless I phoned you. I didn’t phone you.’
‘I’m well aware of that …’ Santos began but, launched on this mood of indignation, Alexa found that she much preferred it to the wildly fluctuating feelings she had had as he walked through the door and so she let it carry her onwards, speaking over his words without really listening.
‘So what are you doing back here? Walking into the house as if you owned the place. I thought you had things to do—phone calls to make …’
‘I do!’ Santos declared in exasperation when she finally drew enough breath to let him get a word in edgeways. ‘And believe me I would have left if I could. Trailing back here in this gale was not exactly my first choice of how to do things.’
‘Then why—?’
‘I had no choice, Alexa!’ he flung at her coldly. ‘There was nothing else I could do!’
‘Nothing else? Do you think I’ll believe that? When you’ve come sneaking back here …’
‘I did not sneak.’
‘… riding roughshod over what I said I wanted—probably with some other plan to get me into your bed. Do you think I can’t see through you? Oh, come on—’
But she never completed the sentence, breaking off in shock as Santos lurched forward to grab hold of her arm.
‘No, you come on!’
Before she quite knew what was happening he had grabbed her coat from the hooks on the wall and wrapped it round her.
‘You have your shoes on? Good.’
‘Santos …’
She struggled to pull away but he held her close, huddling her against the protection of his chest with one arm as with his free hand he wrenched open the door and headed out into the fury of the gale.
‘Santos!’ Alexa protested as the icy winds bruised her face, making her flinch back.
But a moment later the discomfort eased as she found that he had manoeuvred the hard bulk of his body so that it shielded her from the worst of the elements, pulling part of his coat around her too as extra protection. She was snug and safe in a special cocoon, one in which the heat of his body reached her even through her clothes, and the scent of his skin surrounded her, warm and musky against the bite of the freezing wind.
In the space of a couple of heartbeats she had forgotten her discomfort, forgotten her annoyance, forgotten everything but the wonderful safe, secure feeling she had being held so close to him, his arm around her shoulders, his chest against her arm, his hip rubbing hers as he strode furiously down the pitted road in the direction in which she had seen him drive just a short time before.
Another couple of moments more and that safe and secure feeling had given way to something new and very different. In spite of the weather she was almost too warm in her cocoon, her body heated by the heavy pulse of her own blood as it thundered in primitive response to the touch of his hand, the movement of his powerful body. The memory of all that hard maleness crushing her beneath him on the bed, the burning force of his erection pressed into her pelvis, made her mouth dry and blurred her eyes so that she had to be grateful for Santos’s control, the surefooted way he guided her along the gloomy path. The impulse to stop, to turn in those strong arms, and drag his handsome head down to hers, to crush her lips to his in a hungry, yearning kiss, was almost overwhelming and she actually welcomed the lash of the rain in her face as it forced her to keep a hold on reality.
‘There.’
Santos came to an abrupt halt, jolting her out of her heated daydream, sending her sensual thoughts flying as he flung out a hand in an emphatic gesture to draw her attention to the scene before her.
‘See …’
‘What am I looking at—what—? Oh!’
Her question choked off on a cry of shock and distress as she saw what was before her; what he wanted her to see.
The car in which Santos had driven off now stood at a crazy angle, half on the road and half on the grass verge at the edge of it, where it had obviously swerved violently to avoid something. And it was the something that brought the distress into her voice, making her eyes widen in stunned horror as they focused on the broken, splintered trunk of an enormous tree that had come crashing down in the storm and now lay right across the road, blocking the way completely. Several of the smaller branches had broken off and were scattered around the place, and one large, heavy one had actually crashed into the side-window of the vehicle, splintering the glass where it had landed.