The Spaniard's Baby Bargain. HELEN BIANCHIN

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ dark gaze speared her own, and her chin tilted fractionally. ‘I’ll reserve the alcohol for tomorrow evening,’ she ventured sweetly. ‘I may need it by then.’

      Was that a glimmer of a smile, or did the edge of his mouth merely effect a faint twitch?

      ‘You anticipate I’ll be a difficult subject?’

      Oh, he was smooth. Too smooth. And three steps ahead of her.

      ‘It’s my job to provide an interesting, informative and thought-provoking documentary detailing your rise through the ranks to highlight the man you’ve become today.’

      ‘Thirty minutes in the life of…’ he indicated. ‘Edited from twenty-four hours of film?’

      He did cynical amusement well. But then, so did she. ‘I would hope to wrap it up in twelve.’

      Manolo del Guardo poured the coffee, added sugar, and handed them out, then he took a chair opposite.

      ‘Perhaps, Ariane, you will provide me with an overview of the questions you intend to ask?’

      The sound of her name on his lips caused goose-pimples in the most unlikely places. For heaven’s sake, she mentally chastised in self-disgust. Get a grip.

      With deliberate control she extracted two printed copies from her briefcase, handed him one, attached her copy to a clipboard, then sat with pen poised.

      ‘A verbal overview, Ariane.’

      There they were again…more goose-pimples. How would he react if she dismissed convention and called him Manolo?

      Damn him. If he was needling her… ‘You prefer the informality of a first-name basis?’ She could play, too.

      ‘As we’re going to be in each other’s company fairly constantly over the next two days, relaxed informality will ease any subsequent tension, don’t you think?’

      Yeah, right. No one relaxed in the presence of a predator, animal or human. And instinct warned Manolo del Guardo was dangerous in either guise.

      ‘It’s my understanding you were given a written overview prior to agreeing to the documentary.’ She tempered her words with a conciliatory smile. ‘However, I’m quite willing to recap.’

      Which she did, with a succinct professionalism that didn’t falter. When she was done, she met his studied gaze with equanimity. ‘Is that sufficiently extensive?’

      ‘Yes. For now.’ He rose to his feet in one fluid movement. ‘If you’ll excuse me? I have matters to attend to. Please help yourself to more coffee. Feel free to enjoy television in the entertainment room situated in the room adjoining this. There is a selection of DVDs, or cable if you prefer.’ He inclined his head to Tony, then turned towards Ariane and lingered a little long. ‘Santos will serve breakfast at eight.’

      He moved from the room with the ease of a man in command of the situation.

      Dangerous, Ariane accorded silently. Definitely dangerous.

      ‘Do you imagine that gives us carte blanche?’

      Tony, ever the satirist.

      ‘You’re kidding, right?’ Ariane crossed to the chiffonier. ‘More coffee?’ She refilled her cup, added sugar, and turned to face the cameraman.

      She’d worked with him on various assignments in the past, and they’d formed an easy camaraderie that had its base in friendship and a mutual respect for each other’s talent.

      ‘No, thanks.’ He checked his watch. ‘Anything you want to go over before we hit the sack?’

      Ariane surveyed him over the rim of her cup. ‘I want this to be hard-edged, not a piece of condescending fluff,’ she specified, and glimpsed his faint smile.

      ‘You don’t do fluff.’

      No, she didn’t. What was more, she’d earned a reputation for being able to dig deep and get the facts.

      So why did she have this niggling feeling it would be Manolo del Guardo who controlled the interview, and not her?

      She finished her coffee and returned the cup and saucer to the chiffonier.

      ‘OK, let’s get an early night.’ Tomorrow she needed to be bright-eyed and mentally alert.

      Instinct warned parrying words with Manolo del Guardo would be the antithesis of a walk in the park.

      So, she’d go over her notes one more time, explore a few angles and fine-tune some of the questions.

      Ariane preceded Tony from the room and walked at his side as they ascended the stairs to the upper floor.

      ‘See you at breakfast.’ Tony offered a slow smile as they paused outside their adjacent suites. ‘Relax. It’ll be fine.’

      She shot him a quizzical glance. ‘Breakfast?’

      The smile widened. ‘Sleep well.’

      Usually she did, but a leisurely shower followed by an hour with her notes did little to ease the faint edge of tension, and she switched off the bedside lamp in a determined bid to gain a good night’s rest.

      In the darkness her thought-train remained with Manolo del Guardo and the possible scenarios the next day would bring.

      It was impossible not to dwell on the man himself…the sheer physicality of his height and breadth of shoulder, raw-boned facial features, a strong jawline and a sensual mouth.

      As to her electrifying reaction to his presence…what the hell was that?

      CHAPTER TWO

      ARIANE woke bathed in sweat, still caught up in a disturbing dream so hauntingly vivid it left her on the brink of fear. There had been the distant cry of a baby, and she wasn’t able to distinguish whether it belonged in the dream or was seated in reality.

      She lay still for a few minutes, checked the time, and opted to shower and dress. It was early, but it would give her an opportunity to go over Manolo del Guardo’s personal profile, check details she’d highlighted in order to delve more deeply into his past, then she’d appear downstairs at the appointed time for breakfast.

      Alone, she determined as she entered the dining room an hour and a half later. The table was set for one, and an elegant chiffonier held a covered dish, a carafe of steaming coffee, and a jug of orange juice.

      The morning newspaper lay folded within reach, and she scanned the newsprint as she ate, then when she was done she returned to her suite to freshen up and gather her notes.

      Five minutes to showtime, she determined as she entered the informal lounge, and found Tony checking the audio equipment. The video recorder was set up in readiness.

      ‘Hi.’ He glanced up from the task in hand. ‘Sleep well?’

      ‘OK.’ There was no point in admitting to a restless night. ‘You?’

      ‘Fine. СКАЧАТЬ