A Spanish Christmas. PENNY JORDAN

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СКАЧАТЬ the matter with her? Just because he was totally and undeniably male … just because … just because her head felt dizzy and her legs felt weak and her heart was pounding—bounding helplessly from one beat to another like a newborn foal finding its legs—that didn’t mean … that didn’t …

      ‘Christian, is Meg all right?’

      Elena’s voice seemed to reach her from a long way away. Like a drowning man, Meg clung to it, forcing herself to remember where she was and why.

      If this was a film, right now its audience would be in no doubt at all about what would happen next. But it wasn’t a film, she reminded herself fiercely as she realised that Christian had released her wrist and she was free to escape from him and the dangerous sorcery of the spell his proximity had woven around her.

      Get a grip, for goodness’ sake, she berated herself mentally as she hurried towards Elena’s wheelchair. It was totally unlike her to react like this and she couldn’t understand why she was behaving so idiotically.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘THERE, how do you feel now?’

      ‘Much better.’ Elena thanked Meg gratefully as she finished massaging her patient and smiled at her.

      It was less than two hours since their arrival at the apartment, which had proved to be even more luxurious and elegant than Meg had expected.

      The bedroom she had been shown to by Elena’s elderly housekeeper was more of a small suite than a mere room, complete with its own luxurious marble bathroom and a small sitting room as well, but Meg had been more concerned about her patient than the luxury of her new surroundings, insisting on making Elena comfortable before settling herself in.

      The telephone beside the ornately luxurious bed rang just as Meg was slipping the covers back over Elena, and discreetly she left the room to allow Elena to speak to her caller in privacy whilst she made her way back to her suite.

      She was, of course, fully familiar with the Spanish custom of eating late at night, but hunger pangs were now beginning to gnaw faintly at her tummy. It seemed a long time since she had eaten the delicious meal they had been served in the First Class cabin on the plane.

      Presumably she would eat her meals in the kitchen with Elena’s housekeeper, Anna, whilst Elena herself either dined alone or with friends—or her godson … Meg’s heart gave a betraying thump. But, no, he would not be visiting whilst she was here, Meg reassured herself. Hadn’t Elena herself mentioned the fact that he and his family would be spending Christmas at his family estate in the country?

      His family … Was he married? Her heart gave another sharp thump. Meg guessed that he must be in his early thirties and, although he had made no mention of a wife, a man with a background like his would surely want to have a son to continue the family line.

      The intercom telephone on the table next to Meg rang, making her jump. When she answered it, she heard Elena’s voice excitedly asking her to come to her room.

      When Meg got there, her patient was sitting up in bed, looking pink-cheeked and happy.

      ‘My telephone call was from Luisa, Christian’s mother. She has invited us both to spend the Christmas holiday with them. Christian must have told her how concerned I was that you would find it dull here on your own, with just me for company. Oh, I am so pleased. You will love Christian’s family, I promise you.’

      Valiantly, Meg tried not to show her own consternation. The mere thought of seeing Christian again, never mind spending time in his home, was doing the most alarming things to her nervous system. But Meg knew there was no way she could refuse to go. Elena’s wound still needed careful cleaning and bandaging, and her surgeon had been insistent that she had to have proper nursing care for at least three weeks after her operation.

      Meg had always taken her professional responsibility very seriously and there was no way she was going to stop doing so now, just because of a mere man.

      A mere man? Christian? A delicate hint of pink colour tinged her skin as certain unassailable facts forced themselves in front of her.

      Christian bore just about as much resemblance to being a ‘mere’ male as a medical student did to a senior consultant, which was to say that when it came to quantifying ‘maleness’ Christian was in a class of his own.

      What was she doing, boosting the wretched man’s already far too high opinion of himself with her foolishly treacherous thoughts?

      Anyone would think that she was in danger of finding him attractive—which she most certainly did not, she assured herself vigorously, as Elena started to plan what she was going to need to pack for their visit, suddenly becoming far more animated and happy than Meg had previously seen her.

      ‘This is all Christian’s doing. He really is the most thoughtful person. But then all the men in his family have been known for their benevolence to others. Christian’s uncle, the one he mentioned, was so affected by the plight of the street children in Buenos Aires that he set up and financed a special home for them and left money in his will for its continued maintenance. Christian’s family have had business links with South America for many generations, and now our government has requested his help when it comes to any kind of delicate negotiations.’

      It was obvious to Meg just how much Elena admired her godson and how much she was looking forward to spending Christmas with his family. No doubt he was used to women doting on him. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to become one of his besotted admirers!

      ‘So, if you will wait here with the luggage, Meg, I shall take Tia Elena down to the car in her wheelchair and see her safely installed in it, whilst I send Esteban up to collect the luggage.’

      ‘Oh, but you will make sure that the apartment is securely locked up, won’t you, Christian.’ Elena intervened anxiously.

      ‘Of course,’ he told her.

      Gritting her teeth, her hackles already rising in antagonistic response to the lordly mantle of control Christian had assumed since his arrival at the apartment ten minutes earlier, Meg tried not to notice how sexually male he looked wearing a pair of casual snug-fitting jeans and a soft cotton shirt, the top couple of buttons of which were unfastened.

      Meg was forced to swallow hard against the taut feeling of female awareness threatening to sabotage her determination not to find him in the least bit attractive.

      So why on earth was her tummy fluttering, just because as he’d turned towards her patient she had glimpsed the disturbingly male darkness of his body hair where his shirt lay open? And, even more disconcertingly, why was she having to control that upsurge of female wantonness that said so clearly and mortifyingly that it wanted to see more?

      Naked male bodies were nothing new to her, as a nurse, so why should the thought of this particular male body turn her into a quivering, dithering mass of desire?

      Meg had no idea. She was just relieved that Christian was finally wheeling Elena out of the apartment, leaving her to await the arrival of his chauffeur, Esteban.

      The amount of luggage Elena deemed it necessary to take with her for a fortnight’s stay with friends for what she had told Meg would be a ‘family Christmas’ had reduced Meg to awed silence as she had watched Anna pack, reverently wrapping everything in layer after layer of tissue paper.

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