He turned her around again and looked her up and down, not a hint of warmth in his eyes. It helped to cool her pulse a little. That, and her mortification that her nipples must be like two hard pebbles under the material.
‘And now if you could return the favour …’
Rowan looked up at him, dazed. And then she realised that he was talking about his bow tie. Her heart lurched. He’d never been able to do one up, and had always had to ask her. Those moments had been stolen guilty pleasures … She had a sudden intense memory of doing it once, her pregnant belly pressing into his body, feeling his burgeoning arousal. And then they had arrived late to the function. She really didn’t think she could do what he was asking now and stay in one piece.
‘Don’t you have a ready-made one?’ she asked with not a little desperation.
Isandro’s brows snapped together. ‘It’s too much for you to do?’
He felt absurdly angry. He cursed himself for giving in to the impulse to come in here. He went to turn away but she caught his arm. She was looking up at him, something indefinable in those violet depths thrown into stark relief by the creaminess of her flawless skin and darker cream of her dress. For a second he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
‘Wait. Let me try. It’s just been a while, that’s all.’
She stood in front of him and reached up to his tie. He lifted his head back automatically to help—and to avert his eyes from her gaze. Her clean, unmanufactured fragrance drifted upwards. She moved closer and Isandro could feel the soft swish of her dress against him, the fleeting glance of her body against his, but she pulled back so sharply when that happened that he looked down swiftly. She apologised.
And then he couldn’t look away. Her face was flushed, her tongue protruding slightly through small even teeth as she concentrated on his tie. Her lashes were unbelievably thick and dark, so long that they cast half-moon shadows on her cheeks. He could see the dip of cleavage in the dress, the way it had pushed her breasts up slightly. They looked full and voluptuous. Once more she swayed against his body, and he had to clench his jaw so tight that he felt his teeth would snap. His erection was hard and heavy against his underwear, and he hadn’t felt this hot for a woman since—
‘There.’ There was more than a little breathless relief in Rowan’s voice as she stepped back. Tying that bow tie and remaining standing had been like her own personal Everest quest. She couldn’t look up. She babbled. ‘I just have to put on my shoes and get my wrap and bag and then I’m ready to—’
‘Here—you’re going to need these.’
Rowan glanced up quickly, and then down to where Isandro was holding her wedding ring and engagement ring in his palm.
‘You still have them …’ she breathed. She’d loved those rings. Her wedding band was simple platinum and her engagement ring was an antique. She’d picked it herself, a square green diamond surrounded by tiny clear diamonds in an Art Deco setting. She watched as he took her hand and held it out, efficiently slipping the rings onto her ring finger. She’d lost weight and they were looser.
‘I’ll have to get them re-sized.’
‘What’s the point?’
Rowan looked up and willed the sharp pain down. She couldn’t believe she’d just said that. ‘Of course. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘I’m going to look in on Zac. See you downstairs.’
When he left, Rowan took a deep, shuddering breath. That whole experience had taken more out of her than she cared to admit. She looked at the rings glinting on her finger and felt like an impostor. She cursed her big mouth again.
Checking herself quickly in the mirror, she stopped, and her hand went to touch her hair. What would Isandro’s reaction have been if he’d seen her this time last year? With that thought came the uncomfortable truth. Sooner or later he would know … and what would that do?
‘I like Ana-Lucía. I think we’ve made the right choice.’
Rowan looked at Isandro in surprise across the back of the car as they drove to the function. His helicopter had brought them to a small private airfield just outside the city. His use of ‘we’ had made her heart stop.
‘I like her too …’
When they’d interviewed nannies the other day, for the first time they’d both agreed on something. Neither of them had liked a single one of them. They’d either been too interested in making eyes at Isandro, in the house, or in how much money they would be paid. Rowan could remember the jealous bile that had risen within her when yet another simpering blonde had cooed coquettishly at Isandro.