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The guard’s demeanour quickly changed to one of near adulation as Alejandro came through the turnstile, irritation hardening the perfection of his olive-skinned features as he strode towards them. With an impatient movement he gestured for her to move away and Emily was glad to remove herself from the glances they were attracting. Were people bemused by how mismatched the two of them looked? Mightn’t she have thought exactly the same if she’d been the outsider?
She wished she could slow down the racing of her heart, just as she wished she could stop her body from prickling with instinctive hunger as she surveyed the man towering over her, with anger glinting from his green eyes. Today he was dressed down in faded denims and a creamy silk shirt, but his casual clothes didn’t detract from the unmistakable air of authority and power which radiated from his body. Dark waves of hair were curling onto the
collar of his shirt, their unruly profusion somehow at odds with his upright stance and the perfect posture which had always been remarked upon during his riding career. People were taking sneaky photos of him with their phones but he didn’t appear to notice.
‘You’re late,’ he accused, as soon as they were out of earshot.
‘I know. Sorry about that. It couldn’t be helped.’
‘Why not? What happened?’ he demanded. ‘Was the plane delayed?’
‘Sort of. There was a tech problem.’ Emily shifted the strap of her shoulder bag to stop it rubbing. ‘Which delayed the second flight, so the journey took longer than the twenty-eight hours it was supposed to take.’
‘More than twenty-eight hours?’ he echoed incredulously. ‘How is that even possible?’
She wondered if he’d forgotten what it was like to be poor, or to be starting out. If he knew what it was like to consult comparison sites on the web before you took a plane anywhere—or whether he was so used to travelling around in private jets and helicopters that such a mode of transport now seemed completely normal to him. ‘I bought the cheapest ticket available, which meant it took a somewhat...um...’ she gave a sheepish shrug ‘...indirect route.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Even though you had a budget which allowed you to travel first class, which I believe was agreed in advance with my assistant?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So?’ His eyes bored into her questioningly.
‘So I couldn’t justify spending that kind of money on a plane ticket and flying to the other side of the world in the lap of luxury, Alejandro. Not when my business is in such a fledgling state and we’re still having to budget like crazy because most people don’t pay on time. Every penny counts at this stage—that’s why we’re careful.’ She hesitated, and then a smile seemed to spring out of nowhere as she looked at him with gratitude. ‘But I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for Joya. He seems so happy now and those pictures of him at your ranch look amazing.’
‘It’s called an estancia,’ he snapped.
‘Whatever.’ Her smile widened. ‘But thanks, anyway.’
Alejandro wanted to hang onto his anger but when she looked at him like that it wasn’t easy, and it was causing his conscience to stir in an uncharacteristic way, because she looked so damned sweet. But she wasn’t sweet, he reminded himself grimly. She was as money-grabbing as her mother. And she was a heartless snob. When she’d walked away from him, she had looked down her pretty nose and given him a shuttered look when he’d asked her why.
You’re not the right type of man for me, Alej.
He hadn’t known what she’d meant, not at first. He’d been rough and unsophisticated back then. He’d seen the uncomfortable look which had crossed her features. The way she’d licked her lips, like someone being forced to eat cat food. Like a fool he had asked her, unable to believe that Emily—his Emily—could look at him so condescendingly, as if she’d never met him before.
You’re illegitimate.
And that matters? he remembered demanding incredulously.
It matters to me.
He’d wanted to tell her that his mother might not wear a wedding ring on her finger, but that his father was someone whose wealth and position could easily eclipse that of her stepfather. But he hadn’t done that, because at heart Alejandro Sabato was a proud man. And, in view of what had subsequently happened, thank God he hadn’t.
But dwelling on his hurt and his anger wasn’t going to get him anywhere—at least, not at this precise moment. Instead, Alejandro pushed away the ugly thoughts as he raked his gaze over her. He had wondered if the intervening years might have given her an air of sophistication, but they certainly hadn’t. At the ranch she could have been excused for her plain jeans and T-shirt—but in the VIP section of one of the world’s most prestigious race events, she could not.
His mouth thinned into a disapproving line, for he had imagined she would make herself beautiful for him, as women always did. He wondered if this was some kind of subtle rebellion—turning up with her face bare of make-up and wearing a cheap cotton dress. And why was her blonde hair hanging over one shoulder in that thick and wholesome plait, so she looked like some superannuated milkmaid rather than a smooth PR he’d hired to revamp his playboy image?
Yet her drab clothes were doing nothing to dampen his ardour for her. If anything, her prim outfit was heating his blood with a passion he hadn’t felt in years and he was having difficulty averting his gaze from her luscious curves, which no plain shift dress could possibly disguise. His throat dried. He resented the physical allure she still seemed to radiate, despite her second-rate appearance. Was she aware that the thin material was brushing tantalisingly against her generous breasts, reminding him all too vividly of the way he used to stroke them until she moaned? Or that her bare legs were making his groin grow exquisitely hard as he wondered what type of panties she was wearing and was filled with a sudden overwhelming desire to discover the answer for himself. Later, he promised himself, with a fierce beat of hunger. Later.
Deliberately, he swivelled his gaze away from her, directing it instead towards the battered suitcase she was clutching. ‘And that?’ he demanded, with soft incredulity.
‘It’s my suitcase. Obviously.’ She tilted a defiant chin. ‘I didn’t want to be any later than I already was, so I came straight here without checking into my hotel first.’
‘Well, you can’t stay here, not looking like that.’ He fished a shoal of car keys from the back pocket of his jeans and took the case from her. ‘My car isn’t far away. I’ll take you to your hotel so you can change. Or at least iron your dress.’
‘I’m very grateful for the sartorial tips, Alejandro. Perhaps you’d like to colour-coordinate my wardrobe for me while I’m here?’
Ignoring her sarcastic comments, he glanced at his gold watch. ‘The qualifying session is over and the main race isn’t until tomorrow. There’s a party on a yacht down in the harbour I need to attend, but that’s not until later. Come on. Don’t let’s waste any more time. Let’s go.’
