that Liz had agreed. Liz had no idea of Jules’ cash-flow problem, and Jules had no intention of telling her.
Stifling a sigh, she turned a narrow-eyed glance on Rand. It was all in the hands of this one man, and she was beginning to get the distinct impression he was deliberately avoiding discussing her father’s estate. Three hours later Jules was convinced of it…
They had arrived at the Diez ranch mid-afternoon. Sanchez, the estate manager, had been at the hacienda to meet them. Rand had been greeted with a hug, and Jules had rather tentatively held out her hand. She had been worried how her absence from the funeral would look to a man who had spent decades working for her father.
But she need not have worried as Sanchez ignored her hand and gave her a big hug as well; that did much to relieve her anxiety in returning to the ranch. Sanchez was the man who had taught her to ride a horse, and she had spent many a happy hour roaming over the ranch with him in the past.
Sanchez’s wife, Donna, the housekeeper, was equally welcoming, and to Jules’ amazement Donna was very obviously pregnant. She congratulated her and was rewarded with a smile and a hug. To Jules’ knowledge Donna had to be at least forty and had been trying to have a baby as long as Jules could remember.
Ten minutes later, seated in the salon, a glass of champagne in her hand Rand had insisted she drink in a toast to her return, Jules glanced around her, the memories rushing back.
She had been so impressed by the house as a teenager, but she was nowhere near as impressed now. The building, the furniture and fittings were beautiful, and immaculately cared for exactly as she remembered, but with maturity she realised the house lacked any sense of home. A portrait in oil by a famous Dutch artist dominated the hall, but there were no personal photographs, and nothing to say who had lived here.
‘So, Jules, how does it feel to be back, dare I say, home?’
The voice was cool, the words faintly mocking. She glanced up at Rand standing in front of the elegantly carved fireplace, one hand idly twisting the champagne flute between his long fingers, the expression in his black eyes impossible to read.
Out of nowhere came the conviction that this was a man who would dare anything to get what he wanted. He was poised like some mighty eagle, his physical strength evident beneath the impeccably tailored pale grey suit, waiting to rip her to shreds given the chance.
Jules chose her words with care. ‘The house has not changed at all. But it is not, nor ever will be, my home; that is not why I am here,’ she said calmly, and was astonished how normal her voice sounded.
‘No, of course, you are here to visit your father’s grave.’ There was a gleam of mocking amusement in his black eyes, and Jules felt a sudden surge of pure anger. Damn him, he had been playing around with her all afternoon, and she was sick of it. Slamming her glass down on the table, she leapt to her feet.
‘Look, Rand,’ she began, walking towards him, ordering herself to control her anger, instinct telling her she could not afford to lose her temper with him. She managed to resist the temptation by curling her hands into fists at her sides as she stopped in front of him.
‘You might have all the time in the world for visiting. Whatever, but I don’t.’ Her cool expression did not betray a thing but her mind was working frantically. ‘I have a very busy work schedule and I want to get back to England as soon as possible, so can we get down to business now?’ She looked at him with candid green eyes, trying to see him as a business acquaintance, nothing more. For some reason her body sensed its weakness next to his, and she didn’t like the feeling. She wanted to get away from his disturbing presence and fast. ‘What exactly did my father leave me, and is it negotiable?’ And she hoped like hell it was more than the ornament she had suggested to her mother.
A flicker of anger showed briefly in his eyes. ‘I know a bakery is essential for any town, but it is hardly rocket science. I’m sure your staff are perfectly capable of running the business without you. You know what they say—all work and no pleasure…’ Cupping her chin with one strong hand, he tilted her face up, one long finger gently caressing her cheek. ‘There is no need to rush, Jules,’ he drawled softly. ‘We have a lot to catch up on, or is that what you are afraid of?’
His derogatory comment about her small business left her speechless, and it did not help that her nerve endings tingled at the contact of flesh on flesh. So she wasn’t in his league business-wise, but then very few in the world were, and she wasn’t about to justify her chosen career to him.
As far as she was concerned they had nothing to catch up on. They had barely been friends, unless he meant Enrique and Maria, she thought, horrified. Surely he didn’t want a blow-by-blow account? Her green eyes, stormy, collided with deep, dark brown. ‘Not you, that’s for sure,’ she snapped. But then his smallest finger trailed over her full lips, and a shiver lanced through her slender body and she knew she had lied. Because suddenly she was desperately afraid, afraid of what Rand was making her feel.
‘Well, if you’re sure about that, then you won’t mind this,’ he declared huskily.
She could feel her heart racing, the blood rushing through her veins. Involuntarily she swayed towards him, drowning in the darkening depths of his eyes, unaware that her own registered her sensual shock. The hand on her cheek slid to clasp the back of her head as his other hand snaked around her waist and up her spine and she was pulled against the solid wall of his chest.
Her stomach appeared to perform a somersault as she felt the strength of his thighs pressed against her and she trembled in a mixture of fear and excitement. She did not know what was happening to her. The fear kept her still in his embrace and she looked up with wide, confused eyes as his dark head lowered to hers.
His lips closed over hers, moving gently, persuasively, and Jules felt something melting inside her. His hand twisted the braid of her hair around his wrist and held her face up to his as he whispered softly against her mouth, ‘I have been wanting to do that since the moment I set eyes on you today, and if you’re honest so have you.’
‘No.’ She opened her mouth to deny him with the tiny atom of common sense she had left, and in that instant his firm lips captured hers again. Taking the opportunity she had inadvertently offered, his tongue intruded with a shattering sensuality, exploring the moist dark interior of her mouth with a no longer gentle but a hungry, demanding passion. The hand at her back pressed her closer to his hard length, one long leg nudging between her thighs.
It was electrifying, and so unexpected. For the first time in her life Jules felt the searing heat of physical arousal. The few kisses she had exchanged with Enrique in the past had never made her feel this way. Every pulse in her body went haywire and she had an incredible urge to press herself closer to the rock-solid strength of Rand’s great body. Her mouth came alive beneath the pressure of his, and she returned his kiss with a helpless, hungry urgency, her arms sliding involuntarily around his neck.
The kiss went on and on, Rand claiming her mouth with a fierce, possessive need and Jules felt a totally unfamiliar tide of emotion sweeping through her that she had no control over. Her rational mind shut down and she returned his ardour with greed, a fiery if less than expert desire she had not known she was capable of. She inhaled his heady scent and as his hand cupped one firm breast she felt the sudden painful tightening of her nipples. Finally she knew what it was to really want a man sexually, the primitive hunger tightening her belly, demanding some release from the fierce tension, the heat consuming her.
She heard Rand’s low groan as he finally broke the kiss. Jules looked up at him, dazed and breathless, as he gently removed her arms from around his neck and held them at her sides. She was
