The manager was speaking in an efficient yet slightly breathy tone that grated on Rowan’s nerves. ‘When we get that analysis report you requested I’ll have it sent over to Spain immediately.’
‘Thanks, Carrie.’ Isandro started walking again, with the other woman beside him, effectively shutting Rowan out as if she didn’t exist.
Then they were outside, where a sleek limousine was waiting with doors open. Isandro gestured for her to get in, careful not to touch her, Rowan noticed. When she sat in the car she was slightly out of breath. She watched as they pulled away from the hotel and eased into the morning traffic.
‘I thought you hated London.’ She could remember his irritation when business had kept him tied here after their perfunctory wedding, and then her advancing pregnancy which had precluded moving back to Spain until after the birth.
He flicked her a hard glance. ‘I do.’
‘So why this hotel?’
This time he did turn more fully, and settled back into the seat. Rowan instinctively inched back as far as she could.
‘Why the interest, Rowan? Already adding it as a possible to the portfolio you’re hoping to receive if the money’s not enough? You should have taken me up on my first offer. It won’t come around again.’
She decided to ignore that. ‘I was just wondering, that was all.’
She faced the front. Isandro studied her profile, the straight nose, determined chin. Long sweep of black lashes. Surprisingly full lips … soft and inviting. He despised his unwarranted lack of control, over a woman so completely without morals, despised the fact his desire could not be governed by his intellect. Back in the suite just now, when she’d looked at him with such naked desire, for a second he’d actually forgotten just who she was and had felt his body quicken to a hot response. Exactly as she’d no doubt intended.
He forced his mind away from that. He needed words. To speak. Cut through the images … the memories.
‘I bought the hotel after Zac was born. I can’t ignore the fact that he’s half-English. This is part of his heritage. It’ll serve as an investment for him for the future, should he ever decide he wants to come here.’
Rowan didn’t answer. She was too shocked by the tender feelings his words evoked, the memories of other times when she’d seen that tenderness come through. It had made her fall irrevocably in love with him, the contrast between hard-nosed ruthless businessman and his much more secret side. A side she thought only she had been privy to. A side that she had come to believe in—which she should never have believed in. She welcomed the hardness that settled around her heart. She had to protect herself. To remember.
She cast a quick glance at him. The aquiline line of his nose and full lips gave him a profile that spoke of sensual knowledge and promise. He gave no indication of knowing he was under scrutiny. Then his head turned and those eyes snagged hers. Dead on. Heat flared upwards from the pit of her belly and Rowan turned away. She could almost feel the mocking, knowing smile that curved his lips.
CHAPTER THREE
THAT sensuous profile was mocking her, coming closer and closer. Rowan felt panic rise and struggled to get away from the cruel smile, the icy eyes. She felt someone tugging, pulling her back, and suddenly found herself being jerked back to reality by a very definite and persistent pulling at her skirt.
Rowan opened her eyes. They felt gritty and tired. She was on the plane. She must have fallen asleep. The tugging registered again. She looked down, straight into the huge violet-coloured eyes of her son. Her heart stopped. And started again painfully. He was trailing an old and faded blanket. His cheeks were still sleep-flushed, his hair standing up. And her heart clenched so tight for a second that she felt in serious danger of fainting again. She willed it down.
Hungrily her eyes roved over him, as if checking a newborn for all his fingers and toes. She longed to pull him up and hold him close but didn’t. She knew it might scare him. Just this moment alone was worth everything—put things into perspective. Isandro and his threats faded into the background.
Her voice was husky with emotion. ‘Hi, Zac.’
One chubby hand clung to her leg for support. With his other hand he proudly mimicked her, pointing to himself. ‘Zac!’
Then he put a hand to his head and made a face, obviously making the connection between Rowan and the previous day, when he’d fallen.
‘That’s right—you fell. Did you hurt your head?’
Zac nodded and rubbed his head. Rowan bent down and pretended to feel for a bump, exclaiming and making a fuss as if she’d found one. Her hands shook with the intensity of her emotions. Zac started to giggle.