The Helen Bianchin Collection. Helen Bianchin

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finished the food, she leaned back in her chair. There were questions she wanted to ask. Words she needed to say. Now, a tiny voice prompted. Say them now.

      There were tiny lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, and his features showed evidence of emerging dark stubble.

      She looked at him carefully, seeing the strength, the aura of power he projected, and knew that it would always be there. For her.

      ‘I love you,’ she revealed with quiet sincerity, and saw his features soften.

      His eyes were dark, so very dark, their expression unguarded so as to almost make her catch her breath at the wealth of emotion evident. ‘Gracias, mi mujer,’ he acknowledged gently.

      ‘I always have. If I hadn’t,’ Hannah assured him, ‘I would never have agreed to marry you.’ She swallowed a small lump that suddenly rose in her throat. ‘You’re everything I need. All I could ever want.’ Her eyes became luminous with shimmering tears. ‘My life.’

      Was it possible for a heart to stop beating? That emotion could be so intense it could cut off the ability to speak?

      Miguel stood and pulled her into his arms. His mouth was an erotic instrument as he kissed her, gently at first, then with increasing passion.

      Hannah became lost, adrift in a sea of emotion and she simply held onto his shoulders as she met and matched his fervour.

      How long did they stand there, locked in each other’s arms? She had no recollection of time.

      Slowly he eased his mouth from hers, pressing soft kisses to her swollen lips as she sighed in protest, and she groaned a little when he disengaged her arms and crossed the room.

      She watched idly as he extracted something from his jacket pocket, and returned to press a slim jeweller’s case into her hand.

      ‘I have something for you.’

      ‘Miguel—’

      ‘Open it.’

      She did so, carefully, and felt the sudden prick of tears. Nestled in a bed of velvet was an exquisite drop necklace and matching earrings. Beautifully delicate, it linked Argyle pink and white diamonds alternately with a pear-shaped pink diamond at the base of the drop.

      ‘They’re beautiful,’ Hannah whispered, feeling the moisture well, then spill to run down each cheek in a slow rivulet that paused momentarily at the edge of her jaw. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘Tears, Hannah?’

      At his teasing query she blinked them away, and brushed shaky fingers across each cheek. ‘I can’t seem to stop.’

      Miguel removed the necklace, placed it in position and fastened the safety clip. Then he leant down and brushed his lips to her temple.

      The intricate centre star-burst lay just beneath the hollow of her throat, with its single line of pink sapphires and diamonds dropping several inches towards the soft swell of her breasts.

      The fact he had remembered was one thing. Since the description had been her own and didn’t refer to anything she’d seen, it meant he’d consigned a jeweller to craft it to this specific design.

      ‘Don’t you want to see how it looks?’

      Hannah shook her head. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned,’ she said softly. ‘Special,’ she added, aware he knew just how much the gift meant to her.

      She reached for the clasp, only to have him still her hands.

      ‘Leave it on.’

      Without a further word she drew his head down to hers and initiated a kiss that proved so evocative it could have only one ending.

      Later, much later, Miguel curved her in against him and pressed a light kiss to her temple. ‘Sleep, amante. Tomorrow is another day.’

      Hannah woke to the peal of the doorbell, and Miguel ushered in the waiter delivering room-service breakfast.

      What time was it? She cast a hurried glance at the digital clock on the bedside pedestal, and gave a groan.

      Eight-fifteen! Dear heaven, she was due to open the boutique at nine, and she needed to shower, dress, get home and collect a fresh change of clothes…

      With rapid movements she thrust aside the covers and slid to her feet. The shower…

      ‘Amada, slow down,’ Miguel growled in husky chastisement, and she cast him a harried glance.

      ‘The boutique— You should have woken me…’

      ‘Come and have breakfast.’ He sounded indolently amused. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

      ‘What do you mean I’m not going anywhere? It’s late—’

      His dark musing expression held warm appreciation of her nudity, and she quickly caught up a robe, thrust her arms through the sleeves and hurriedly caught the silk edges together.

      He extended a hand, caught hold of hers, and pulled her close.

      ‘Miguel,’ she protested in exasperation. ‘We don’t have time—’

      ‘Yes, we do.’

      ‘No, we don’t.’ She dragged fingers through the tousled length of her hair, and made an effort to free her hand.

      Except she didn’t stand a chance as his mouth covered hers in a lingering kiss that almost destroyed the will to move. Almost. It was she who pulled away first, and only, she suspected, because he allowed it.

      He could, he knew, slide the silk from her shoulders and pull her down onto the bed. Early morning lovemaking was a mutual indulgence that made for a great start to the day. Today, however, it would have to wait.

      ‘Renee will open the boutique this morning.’

      She stilled, and gave him a searching look. ‘Why?’

      Miguel led her towards the table where the waiter had laid out their breakfast. ‘Sit down and we’ll eat.’

      ‘I’m not doing a thing until you tell me what’s going on.’

      ‘Okay,’ Miguel said easily. ‘We’re due to board an international flight in a few hours.’

      She stilled, and her eyes were wide as she looked at him. ‘What did you say?’

      He reached out an arm and drew her forward and into a chair, then he took the seat opposite. ‘You heard.’

      ‘How?’

      He cast her a musing glance. ‘The usual way, I imagine.’

      ‘I mean, how can we get away at such short notice?’

      ‘Delegate.’

      ‘I can’t—’

      ‘Yes,

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