The Spaniard's Baby Bargain. HELEN BIANCHIN

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СКАЧАТЬ For the discipline and control…as a form of protection and a means of channelling her anger against his intrusive harassment.

      Ariane pocketed the cellphone and deliberately focused her attention on her surroundings. It was a beautiful summer’s day, with only a few drifts of cloud in the sky. The warmth of the sun caressed her skin, and the air held the sweetness of flowers in bloom, their colours, some muted, many bright, a visual delight.

      A short while later she returned indoors, freshened up, then she joined Tony in the dining room for lunch. Thin slices of veal, Parma ham, salads and fresh bread, followed by a delectable fruit salad.

      There was time to retouch her make-up and smooth her hair before joining Tony in the designated interview room, where she went over her notes and the questions she wanted to pose during the afternoon taping.

      Manolo del Guardo appeared shortly after two, in, unless she was mistaken, a change of shirt. White, top few buttons undone, with cuffs rolled back, the difference in style was minimal, and probably unnoticeable to the untrained eye.

      She attempted to qualify it as an integral part of the job, and knew she lied. Everything about this man caught and held her interest.

      The animalistic sense of power combined with a dramatic mesh of elemental ruthlessness and latent sensuality. Add leashed savagery, and it became a lethal mix.

      Be professional, think interview quality, and ignore the exigent magnetism, Ariane advised silently. A derisive laugh rose and died in her throat. Sure, as if that was likely to happen.

      ‘This afternoon I’d like to concentrate on your entry into the business arena,’ she began. ‘A few early breaks, your motivation to succeed, risks.’ She met his gaze and held it. ‘Highlights charting your career.’

      Manolo took in her slender frame, ash-blonde hair in its sleek style, hazel green-flecked eyes, the small but determined chin, her lush mouth.

      Had anyone told her those eyes became dark green when she was angry? An emotion she hid well, and one he found intriguing.

      She’d done her research, he conceded as he answered her questions and offered information already known to the media.

      ‘No dabbling in illegals in a quest to build your empire?’

      For years he’d walked on the right side of the law, but there were some deals done in his early teens of which he was not particularly proud.

      ‘Perhaps you’d care to define “illegals”?’

      His drawling tone was silk-smooth and dangerous beneath the dispassionate imperturbability.

      ‘Does it need defining?’

      ‘The implication covers a broad spectrum.’

      ‘Could one assume your evasion of the question supplies its own answer?’

      ‘Are you levelling an accusation?’

      Oh, lord, he could have a team of top-flight lawyers breathing down her neck in an instant. ‘No.’ Her tone was steady, and she effected a polite smile. ‘Merely voicing admiration for the extent of your wealth in relation to the time in which you’ve achieved it.’

      ‘I’ll accept that as a compliment.’

      He wanted to strangle her. She could sense it beneath the surface of his control.

      A few more questions and she was done for the afternoon. She watched as Manolo del Guardo rose from his chair, inclined his head and walked from the room.

      ‘He let you get away unscathed.’

      Tony’s comment should have brought her some satisfaction. Instead she could only wonder at the ease with which Manolo del Guardo had allowed her to dance so close to the line between the provocative and the sensational.

      ‘Yes.’ She gathered paperwork and slid it into her briefcase.

      ‘It’s a shame we can’t wrap it up tonight.’

      Ariane slung the leather strap over one shoulder. ‘I understand our host has a pressing engagement for the evening.’

      Tony placed the camera in its case and locked it. ‘We could go grab a pizza, take in a movie.’

      ‘Count me out.’ She moved towards the door. ‘I’m going to try out the lap pool, have dinner here, then catch an early night.’

      ‘Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. We were given permission to avail ourselves of the entertainment room. Maybe Santos will let us microwave popcorn?’

      ‘In your dreams.’ She offered him a musing grin. ‘Does this look like a home that has popcorn in the pantry?’

      With that parting salvo she crossed the foyer and ascended the stairs, choosing to check her cellphone messages as she made her way to her room.

      Roger…again. Twice, she determined, and stifled a pithy oath. Would the man ever cease with his harassment? Catching his first few words before she hit erase was almost as bad as listening to the entire message, for the damage was done. He’d succeeded in reaching her, and in his book that was enough.

      Let it go. They were only words. Take a deep breath.

      Ariane repeated the silent mantra as she slipped out of her clothes and donned the swimsuit she’d tossed into her bag on the off-chance she might use it. Then she pulled on jogging-bottoms and top, caught up a towel and made her way down to the lower level.

      The gym was impressive, the equipment expensive, and she crossed to the indoor lap pool, slid into the water and began a punishing series of laps, back and forth until she could feel the pull of muscles.

      It felt good to expend pent-up energy, and she emerged, crossed to the shower, then donned sweats and returned to her room to change for dinner.

      After a pleasant meal, they took coffee into the entertainment room and watched a movie on DVD.

      When it finished Ariane rose to her feet. ‘Goodnight.’

      Tony slotted in another movie, then sank back into a comfortable chair. ‘See you at breakfast.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      ARIANE was unsure what woke her. Only that something had, and she lay still, listening to the silence, wondering if she’d slipped into consciousness from a dream.

      Then she heard it, the distant cry of a fractious babe. Manolo del Guardo’s daughter. Awake and, from the sound of it, in pain.

      What time was it? She checked her watch…almost midnight. Any second now Manolo or, if he hadn’t returned home, Santos would tend to Christina.

      The cries continued, and Ariane didn’t pause for thought as she slid out of bed, snagged her robe and shrugged into it, then made her way along the gallery.

      Electric wall sconces turned low provided a dim light, and she moved quickly past a few closed doors, then paused outside the room where the sound seemed the loudest. A slight qualm caused a momentary hesitation, СКАЧАТЬ