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‘And why the kitchen entrance? Trying to smuggle me in like a thief in the night?’ she teased, turning to look at Nick as with one long, easy stride he stood in front of her. She paused, feeling the tension coming from him in a slight hardening of his jawline, a flicker of something she didn’t recognise in the depths of his enigmatic eyes. As she saw him outlined in the moon’s silver light, the power of his superbly masculine frame and the inescapable pressure of the fingertip he lifted to her chin made her shiver in instinctive response.
Damn her! She wasn’t far wrong, Nick thought grimly. He did have an ulterior motive, and even with the unexpected help of his mother he knew it would not take much to arouse Liza’s suspicions. But it also reminded him he had been so caught up in the witch’s spell he had forgotten to pass on the information to Carl about Brown’s return, and, appalled at his own lapse in concentration on the crime he was investigating, he lashed out at her.
‘And are you a thief?’ he demanded curtly, and immediately wished the words unsaid as he saw the humour flicker and fade from her expressive eyes to be replaced with a wary puzzlement. ‘No, of course not.’ He answered his own question, his mouth curved, as if her comment had amused him. He did not want her getting suspicious of his motive, not now… ‘Except perhaps of hearts,’ he quipped in a damage-limitation exercise, and, tipping her chin a little higher, he pressed a swift kiss to her softly parted lips, before reaching for her hand and leading her towards the door.
‘Mamma arranged for Manuel to wait up for us, hence the back door; you remember him and how he loves to sit and watch the television in the kitchen.’
Liza did remember, and she accepted his explanation, but she couldn’t dismiss the unsettling notion from her mind that he had not been joking when he asked her if she was a thief. She was being ridiculous…it was the middle of the night…she was having spooky thoughts…
A stream of light suddenly bathed the yard as Manuel appeared, and when he smiled and said her name with obvious pleasure Liza was touched that he had remembered her. But in the next minute she was horribly embarrassed as she heard Nick quite casually tell Manuel to take her luggage to his room.
Grabbing Nick’s sleeve, Liza pulled him back as he would have stridden along the corridor after Manuel. ‘Wait a minute,’ she spat.
Nick stopped. ‘No need to whisper, Liza. There is no one in this wing of the house to hear you, only Manuel, and his wife Marta, who has long since gone to bed,’ he drawled, his dark eyes lit with amusement at the furtive look on her lovely face.
‘It’s not that,’ Liza muttered, feeling embarrassed and angry. ‘Surely you realise I can’t share a room with you in your mother’s house.’
His ebony brows rose as he bit out an expletive in Spanish followed by, ‘Damn it to hell!’ How had he overlooked what he now realised was glaringly obvious? He had leapt at the chance to use his mother’s telephone call to get Liza off the island and, being brutally honest, into his bed as well. But Liza was right; if his mother thought for a second he was fooling around with her friend’s daughter she would have him married to Liza in a flash.
He dragged in a deep, calming breath. Marriage was not on his agenda, and if he ever succumbed it would only be for the production of a child to inherit the Menendez fortune. But not for years yet—he en
joyed his freedom too much, and certainly not to a girl like Liza, who he still was not sure he could trust as far as he could throw her.
His dark eyes narrowed angrily, and something darker, devious hardened in their depths. He had wanted Liza Summers from the very first moment he saw her again at the café. His thick black lashes flicked down towards the sharp line of his high cheekbones, veiling his expression, and he allowed his gaze to linger on her perfectly formed body, the slightly creased black dress she was wearing a testament to their earlier passionate encounter, and then back to her face.
Exquisite: the pale skin, the long blonde hair, the lush mouth and the brilliant blue eyes that were shooting sparks at the moment. Sparks that told him she was absolutely determined not to share his bed beneath his mother’s roof.
He gritted his teeth and had to use all his famed self-control to prevent himself from sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to his bed. He had not had enough of her, not nearly enough, but he knew instinctively talking would not change her mind. He would have to be more subtle. But the irony of it was he knew they could have what was left of the night together, because his mother was spending the night with his uncle and aunt in Granada, attending their own golden-wedding dinner and a blessing in the cathedral on Sunday morning, and that they were all coming back here for lunch and the final huge party in the evening.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Liza, but then again he remembered she had been a very volatile teenager, and if her wildness in bed was anything to go by she hadn’t changed much. She would probably blow her top and land one on him for his treachery, and any hope of resuming what they had started on the plane would be distinctly remote.
Denying the temptation to reach out to her and take up where they had left off, explore her gorgeous body once more, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and turned his head to bark out a quick order to Manuel’s retreating back.
The blue room. Liza had never heard of it, but then she had not been here for years, and she did not know if she was relieved or reluctant to part from Nick. Glancing down the long length of him, she almost changed her mind; with his hands in his pockets and the fabric of his trousers pulled taut across muscular thighs, his potent masculinity was unmistakable…
Get your head up, girl—she jerked her head back and a tide of red flooded her cheekbones. When had she become such a voyeur of men? She sighed inwardly; not men—one man. ‘The blue room; I don’t think I have seen it before,’ she mumbled.
‘Maybe not; there have been some extensive renovations since you were last here.’ Nick slanted her a dark-eyed glance. ‘But it is not mine, I can assure you, so I hope your honour is satisfied,’ he drawled sardonically.
‘Yes,’ she snapped, ‘thank you,’ and gave him what she hoped was a cool look. He might have well as added if you have any, she thought as his dark eyes studied her with cynical, all masculine appraisal. And, straightening her shoulders, she stalked off after Manuel, but in one step Nick was beside her.
‘In a hurry to get to bed?’ he teased softly, bending his dark head to brush the words against her ear, and his husky chuckle did nothing for her attempt to remain cool.
She didn’t bother to answer and a grandfather clock chimed one, disturbing the silence as Liza walked along the corridor with Nick keeping step beside her. Manuel stopped and opened a door, and, placing Liza’s case inside, gave her a toothy smile and went back the way they had come.
Liza almost fell into the room, such was her haste to get away from Nick’s overwhelming presence. Making love with him—no, having sex, she corrected—had done nothing to quell the heated response of her body. In fact it seemed to have sharpened every one of her senses. Now she knew what she had been missing all these years. She was so intensely aware of him she ached.
‘Goodnight,’ she muttered, and would have shut the door in his face, but she was too slow. Nick reached for her and pulled her into his powerful arms, his mouth came crashing down on hers, and a shocked protest was stopped in her throat as excitement spiralled inside her like a typhoon, throwing all her sense out of sight.
His hands dropped to splay against her hips and haul her into connection with the hard strength of his arousal; she felt the sudden rush of warmth between her thighs as he moved suggestively against her. She lifted her hands but Nick suddenly lifted his head, and stepped back.
‘Now, that is a goodnight kiss,’ he drawled mockingly, studying her with dancing devilment in his black eyes. ‘The bathroom is on the left. See you later.’ And then he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him.
Liza stared at the closed door, and only after the long moment it took her to get her breathing somewhere near normal did she turn and glance around the room. A massive four-poster bed, draped in yards of the finest blue silk, and with a delicately embroidered coverlet in a deeper blue, was the central feature. Long arched windows with the same drapes hedged each side of the bed. She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, kicking off her shoes. She glanced at the wall opposite, which housed a delicate dressing table with a fragile-looking gilt chair; her case was on the top of what looked like an antique trunk in one corner. She noted the bathroom door, again blue but edged in gold. The whole décor was blue and gold, a bit over-the-top for her taste but exquisite none the less.
With a weary sigh she stood up and, crossing to her case, she opened it and quickly unpacked her few clothes into the ornate wardrobe, and then headed for the bathroom.
The bathroom was equally as luxurious, all marble and mirrors with a large bath and shower stall. Stripping off her clothes, she took a quick shower, and, stepping out of the shower stall, she crossed to where a pile of towels were neatly stacked. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, and stopped, blushing scarlet. The tell-tale signs of Nick’s lovemaking were obvious. A slight bruise in the hollow of her throat, lower down a redness on her pale skin where the rough stubble of his chin had made a mark as he suckled her breasts. She felt her nipples tighten just at the memory.
