A Spanish Vengeance. Diana Hamilton
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As she turned away with a light self-mocking laugh Lisa put an unsteady hand on Ben’s arm. ‘Let’s go,’ she murmured thickly.
Could she barter her body for the sake of the magazine and the jobs it provided? And why did thinking about exactly what that would entail send dark heat surging through her veins?
She would have to return Ben’s ring. How hurt would he be?
Could a short affair—how long would it be before Diego decided she bored him?—leave her anything other than deeply humiliated?
Even more deeply humiliated than she felt right now, she decided, angry with herself as her skin began to flutter and her heartbeat quicken at the mere thought of making love with Diego Raffacani.
‘You will do as he asks?’
Slumped on the sofa, the coffee she’d made cold on the table in front of him, Ben had listened to all she’d had to say in heavy silence. Now he waited for an answer to his question.
Lisa, pacing back and forth, driven by a gripping inner tension, couldn’t find one and only came to an abrupt, shocked standstill when Ben stated flatly, ‘You want to. You still want him. Five years ago you swore you were madly in love with him. Sophie and I thought it was teenage infatuation. None of us knew who he really was and I put the worst possible interpretation on the whole thing. I thought he was stringing you along for what he could wheedle out of you.’ His shoulders hunched in a wry shrug. ‘When he didn’t turn up that night I assumed that was the end of it, but it obviously wasn’t.’
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