“Ah.” A look of understanding filled her eyes. “Yes, of course.”
“The legal part is done, but Alejandro was just saying on the drive that he wished we could have a reception, a party of some kind, to introduce me to his neighbors and friends. I mean, he did tell a few people in Madrid that we were engaged—” I looked at Alejandro beneath my lashes “—but that’s not the same as celebrating with neighbors and family.”
“No, it’s not,” she said thoughtfully.
Taking a bite of juicy ripe papaya, I sighed. “But we just don’t know what to do. I mean, Alejandro is so busy with his company, and of course I have my hands full with Miguel. I wouldn’t have a clue how to organize a party anyway, not a big one. So we were thinking we could maybe hire a party planner, maybe from Madrid....”
“A party planner!” Maurine gasped indignantly. “My new granddaughter—and my great-grandson, this little angel—introduced to all my neighbors and friends with some dreary, chic party arranged by a paid Madrileño!” She put a dramatic hand over her fulsome chest. “I would turn over in my grave!”
Alejandro’s eyes met mine. His lips quirked as he said, “But Abuela, you’re not dead.”
“You’re right, I’m not,” she snapped. “Which is why I will be planning your wedding reception. Oh, there’s no time to waste.” Turning away with Miguel still in her arms, she hurried from the dining hall, calling, “María! Carmen! Josefa! Hurry! We have a new project—the most important party I’ve ever done!”
I turned back to my lunch, only to find Alejandro looking at me. He said in a low voice, “Why did you do that?”
The intense way he was looking at me made me feel nervous and fluttery inside. “Do what?”
“You could have told her the real reason for our quick marriage. That I forced you to marry me, against your will. That I threatened a custody battle.”
“Oh.” Awkwardly, I looked back at my plate. I took another bite of the Pato a la Sevillana. He just waited. Finally, I said in a small voice, “I didn’t want to tell her that.”
Alejandro came closer, the hard edges of his jaw and cheekbones leaving shadows across his face. “Why?”
My cheeks felt hot. I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Were you trying to protect her?” He was so close now that I could almost feel the heat through his black tailored shirt. My gaze remained down, resting on his shirt just below his ribcage. Just below his heart. His voice was so quiet I could barely hear as he said, “Or were you trying to protect me?”
“You,” I whispered.
The only noise in the cavernous dining hall was the distant murmured conversation of the bodyguards sitting at the far end of the table, the clink of silverware against china, the thunk of wineglasses against the wood.
Alejandro leaned forward, his elbow against the long oak table, bringing his face very close to mine. It was almost painful to be that close to so much masculine beauty. Unwillingly, my eyes traced the hard slant of his cheekbones, the rough edge of his jawline. His darkly intent eyes.
And his sensual mouth. That most of all. I watched, unable to look away, as his lips moved to shape a single word.
“Why?”
I swallowed, sweeping my hand to indicate the elaborate decorations and luncheon spread down the long table.
“She loves you. And you love her.” I shook my head and blurted out, “All this time I’ve been moaning about my family in London. I feel so stupid for complaining about my childhood—while all the time, you yourself—”
He put his hand on my cheek. “It doesn’t matter now.”
Our eyes locked. I caught my breath, feeling the warmth of his fingertips brushing my skin. Feeling how much, deep inside, I wanted him to touch me. On my cheek. Down my neck. Everywhere. Unwillingly, I licked my lips.
But I couldn’t give in. I couldn’t surrender. If I ever gave him my body, as I’d done the year before, my heart would follow. And I didn’t think my shattered heart could survive when he betrayed me as he inevitably would—hadn’t he told me as much himself?
Is there anything you’re not good at?
Keeping promises.
I pulled back, suddenly desperate to get away from the dangerous energy sizzling between us.
“You love each other. You’re a family.” My voice trembled, betraying me. “I want you to be happy.”
He suddenly leaned forward, his eyes dark.
“What would make me happy,” he said huskily, “is having you in my bed. Right now.”
I sucked in my breath. My body trembled.