necessary. ‘We’ll do it your way.’
‘There was never any doubt about that, querida.’
GEORGINA’S ANXIETY LEVELS had risen tenfold since entering the hotel where Santos was having his impromptu party. Her sister, who was so excited, believing a party meant there was hope for her and Carlo to be married, had vanished from her side the moment they arrived. Georgina now felt conspicuous as she stood just inside the doorway of the hotel room.
‘Buenas noches, Ms Henshaw.’
She looked up at Santos, her breath catching as he moved closer to her. He was immaculately dressed in a dark suit and tie, the white of his shirt enhancing his attractive tan. The smile on his lips was warm and welcoming. That same warmth reached his eyes as he took her hand. The touch of his fingers as he lightly held hers made her shiver, as if a feather had been trailed down her spine.
Speak, she told herself firmly. Don’t let his act of attraction distract you.
‘Good evening, Mr Ramirez,’ she said, injecting firmness into her voice as she remembered they were not yet supposed to have met. She certainly didn’t want Emma to discover what she was about to do. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you at last.’
He quirked a brow, and she wondered if she’d gone too far, but around her they were already drawing speculative gazes. It seemed to Georgina that the elite of London society were here—and all at his request.
‘Please, call me Santos,’ he said as he lifted her hand to his lips.
Her stomach did a strange flutter as those lips brushed sensuously over the back of her hand. Stunned into silence, she was mesmerised by his dark hair as he lowered his head. The barely controlled waves of shiny black hair looked so inviting she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. Then he straightened, towering over her once more, his gaze locking with hers.
Don’t go there, she warned herself, and tried to pull back her hand, but his fingers tightened on hers. A sexy smile spread across his lips and she dragged in a ragged breath, then swallowed hard. What was she doing, allowing this man to get to her?
‘The pleasure is mine.’ His words were deep and uneven. He didn’t let her hand go, instead forcing her to stay, so that she could do nothing other than stand there. She looked into the ever darkening depths of his eyes and felt a sizzle of awareness slide over her like the slow thaw of mountain snow. Shy and flustered was something she’d never felt—but, far worse, she knew she was already out of her depth. How was she ever going to get through the evening when he turned on charm like this?
She would because she had to. She was doing this for Emma’s happiness. She clutched her bag, thinking of the few essentials she’d slipped into it, knowing she wasn’t going to be returning home that night.
She smiled, more to herself than anyone else, determined not to let this man’s charisma knock her off balance. It was all for show, and if he could do it then so could she.
‘Something is amusing you?’ His fingers traced a slow, teasing circle on the palm of her hand, making tingles race along her arm. She wanted to pull away, wanted to break the contact, yet couldn’t. Somewhere deep inside her something stirred—an emotion long since locked away.
‘I was merely admiring your charm.’ She smiled up at him, pulling herself closer against him. It felt flirty. Dangerous. ‘I’m sure women just drop at your feet.’
He laughed. A soft rumble that made her tremble. Instinctively she tried to pull her hand free. Again his fingers tightened and his eyes darkened, and for a moment her eyes locked with his. She drew in a quick breath as she saw the sparks of desire within those dark depths. Her body responded to the primal call of his as heady heat thundered around her.
‘That is always my intention, querida.’
He smiled down at her, letting her hand go so that she felt suddenly bereft of his contact—like a ship torn from its anchor to drift in the harbour.
‘Champagne?’
She blinked, not quite able to keep up with his train of thought. Glancing around her, she caught her sister’s eye as she chatted with other guests, Carlo at her side. Emma looked radiant and happy, and Georgina knew there was no going back now. Just as she had done five years ago, she had to put Emma first. She’d done it once, and she could do it again, but Emma must never know.
‘Champagne would be lovely,’ she purred, being as flirtatious as she possibly could. Maybe a little champagne was just what she needed to boost her confidence.
With his hand in the small of her back she moved into the room, aware of the curious glances being directed their way. Santos handed her a flute of champagne, but her head was becoming light, as if she’d already had several glasses of the bubbly liquid. She couldn’t quite believe how this handsome and powerful businessman was able to make her feel so special, so fresh and alive. His charm offensive was potent, making her feel unique and, worse than that, desired. If this was how he was going to play out their planned public scene of attraction she would have to be careful, remind herself it was all an act. Because right now it felt very real. And she liked it.
* * *
Santos couldn’t help but watch Georgina as she sipped her champagne. The need to act as if he were attracted to her had gone out of the window the moment she’d entered the room. He’d heard the hush, felt the ripple of interest, and had been as mesmerised by her as every other man in the room.
Still looking as proud and defiant as she had yesterday in his office, she’d stood framed in the doorway. The jade silk of her dress skimmed over her body, neither revealing nor concealing her curves. A black wrap hung loosely off her shoulders, and he’d been unable to take his eyes off the creamy expanse of her skin, broken only by the thin jade straps. Her neck was bare of any jewellery—something many of the women he knew couldn’t carry off.
Even if he hadn’t had to go up to her and start the charade of attraction he would have wanted to. The same kick of lust he’d felt yesterday had stirred in his veins once again, propelling him towards her. As he’d taken her hand, enjoying the softness of her skin, he had known he wanted her.
‘Your plan is working.’ He leant down and whispered against her hair, the fresh scent of it invading his senses, making his pulse throb with unquenched desire.
She pulled back from him, confusion filling her eyes, her fingers clutching tightly to her glass. ‘It is?’
He heard the uncertainty in her voice and had the strangest desire to stroke his fingers down her cheek. An affectionate gesture he’d never normally think of making. Just what was it about this woman that stirred something unknown deep within him?
‘With your dedication to the role, how could anyone question what they are seeing?’ She turned away, exchanging her empty glass for another bubble-filled one.
The brittleness of her words reminded him just who he was dealing with. Georgina Henshaw was an avaricious woman who, with one marriage already behind her, could play his game with as much detachment as he employed.
He watched her beautiful yet emotionless face as she scanned the room, her eyes finally resting on her sister. With
