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‘Thank you,’ she said primly as he stepped forward to help with her wrap. His only reward was the way she trembled when his hand touched her naked skin as he lifted her hair out of the way.
He stood back to watch as she walked to the exit. A couple of his guests stopped her to say goodnight, and to press business cards into her hands, and one of them was the ambassador. She’d been a hit tonight.
He arrived at her side in time to hear the elderly statesman purring over her hand, ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Señorita Clifton.’
He guided her away from the ambassador with a few polite words, as well as all the other men standing in line to say one last goodnight to the very attractive Rosie Clifton.
‘I think he’s nice,’ she said as he led her away. ‘Are you jealous, Don Xavier?’
He huffed a dismissive laugh. ‘I have to agree, you do look rather young and innocent in that dress.’
‘Because I am young and innocent,’ she reminded him with no smile. ‘But that doesn’t make me naïve, except where business is concerned, and there I’m happy to admit that I have everything to learn—with your help,’ she added, with a flash of her astonishing eyes.
‘So I’m on board with your plans now, am I?’ he queried with a quirk of his brow.
‘I don’t know. Are you?’ she said.
He chose not to answer and called for the lift. Rosie wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and in that she had joined a very exclusive group of women, consisting only of Margaret, and his late aunt, Doña Anna.
He drove her home. To his home. One of several he owned in the city.
‘This isn’t the hotel,’ she commented.
‘Well spotted,’ he said dryly, noting the fact that her bravado was fast leaching away. He drove in through the gates. The mansion overlooked the park, and was both vast and beautiful. He was very proud of it, and found himself hoping that she liked it too.
‘So why have you brought me here?’ she demanded.
‘For a nightcap?’
That half-serious suggestion was met by another piercing Rosie look. ‘A nightcap?’ she repeated sceptically. ‘You know I hardly drink.’
‘Neither do I, but I thought it would be a chance for us to get to know each other better.’
‘Something Margaret suggested you should do?’
He pulled his luxury sports car alongside the steps. ‘I do have some original thoughts. Let’s call it a peace mission. One drink,’ he said.
‘And then I’m leaving,’ she confirmed.
He helped her out of the car, and took her straight inside to the library, where his staff had lit a
blazing fire. She looked around with interest. This was his favourite room in the house, and, for some reason, it really mattered to him that she liked it. The furnishings were comfortable and the walls were lined with books. Just the smell of old paper and worn leather bindings soothed him, and he definitely needed something to soothe his raging libido. Their clashes at the drinks party had taught him a lot about Rosie Clifton, and had confirmed his belief that fierce fires raged beneath her cool exterior, which wasn’t helping his sexual hunger at all.
* * *
She might be out of her depth and sinking fast, but Rosie had to rally and stand up to him. Why had Xavier brought her to his fabulous home? Did he think he was going to seduce her? No chance. Still, this introduction to his luxury lifestyle told her more about his huge wealth and impeccable taste than the media could ever hope to with a few photographs and a lot of hysterical guff. She’d had so many new experiences tonight, her head was reeling, but she would sort it out. It didn’t help that her body was on full alert after that encounter with Xavier’s erotic expertise, but she would tame that too.
‘You like the books,’ Xavier commented as she allowed her fingertip to drift across a row of what were almost certainly first editions.
Discussing such a harmless shared interest gave her calm time, thinking time. ‘I love them.’ She had never seen so many leather-bound volumes gathered together in one place before. ‘How can you ever bear to leave this house?’
He shrugged. ‘I have books in all my houses.’
‘Lucky you,’ she murmured as she walked along the line of books. So many of the stories she’d read to Doña Anna had involved an unequal partnership, but that hadn’t stopped the heroine succeeding—sometimes with audacity, but always with courage. An idea had been banging around in Rosie’s head since their encounter in his office. It was radical, but might just work. ‘Reading was the first thing that brought me close to your aunt.’
As he hummed she sensed she’d struck a nerve. It was perhaps better not to mention anything about her relationship with Doña Anna while things between them were still strained. ‘Why did you ask me here?’ she said instead, moving away from the books to face him.
‘I’m trying to make amends.’
