The Spaniard's Pleasure: The Spaniard's Pregnancy Proposal / At the Spaniard's Convenience / Taken: the Spaniard's Virgin. Margaret Mayo

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The Spaniard's Pleasure: The Spaniard's Pregnancy Proposal / At the Spaniard's Convenience / Taken: the Spaniard's Virgin - Margaret  Mayo

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hardly something I would joke about, is it?’

      Fleur felt angry on Tamara’s behalf. Antonio might have his faults, but he had to be an improvement on someone like that. ‘But that’s so cruel—what an awful man!’ she exclaimed. ‘He doesn’t deserve a daughter like Tamara.’ She lifted her eyes and saw that Antonio was watching her with a strange expression.

      ‘Do you think I’m an improvement?’ he asked.

      Fleur thought, You’re an improvement on perfect, and flushed. Out loud she admitted gruffly, ‘I suppose you have potential.’

      His eyes not leaving hers, he inclined his sable head in acknowledgement to her gruff concession.

      ‘Have you told Tamara?’

      ‘What purpose would that serve?’ he wanted to know.

      ‘Well, she might not hate you so much.’

      Antonio looked at the narrow section of smooth midriff exposed by the skimpy tee shirt she wore and wondered if her skin was as warm and silky as it looked. ‘She needs someone to hate and,’ he added with a shrug, ‘I can take it.’

      ‘Because you’re such a tough macho man,’ she taunted gently.

      ‘Because I am her father, and I wasn’t there when I should have been. I think that Tamara is a little too fragile…emotionally speaking…for the unvarnished truth just now.’

      ‘So you’ll play the bad guy?’

      A wolfish grin split his lean face. ‘I am the bad guy, haven’t you heard?’ He was surprised to hear himself add, ‘Come with us to London for the afternoon.’

      ‘Why?’

      Good question. ‘The women I know don’t need a reason to shop.’

      ‘I’m not the women you know.’

      Something moved at the back of his eyes, but before she could put a name to the elusive emotion it was gone and he was smiling, not with his mouth, but with his eyes. It was a disturbing smile that made her already erratic heart rate quicken.

      ‘No, you’re not, are you?’

      It was hard to decide from his enigmatic tone whether this was a good thing from his point of view or not.

      ‘You want a reason?’

      She nodded, thinking that with some things there was no reason. I mean, what reason could there be for her to fall for a man who was only ever going to break her heart?

      My God, we don’t even live in the same world!

      ‘Well, you’ve seen us together. You have to admit an umpire would be a good thing.’

      ‘And here was me thinking you liked the idea of my company.’

      Her sarcastic smile guttered as his eyes met hers in a long disturbing stare. Tearing her eyes free of the level blue gaze a moment later than she should have left Fleur feeling slightly breathless. Slightly? No, actually a lot breathless.

      She patted the head of the dog who had wandered sleepily out to see what was going on.

      ‘Hello, boy,’ Antonio said, clicking his fingers. The dog, his tail wagging, trotted obediently over. ‘Sorry I couldn’t deliver him personally as I promised,’ he said, patting the animal’s head. ‘I was called away unexpectedly.’

      He had been about to leave when his sister had rung to say her youngest had been rushed into hospital with suspected appendicitis. She had three other children to care for, and with their mother on a world cruise and her husband in New York it had been time to call in a favour.

      Sophia always had had perfect timing.

      ‘Were you?’ Fleur said, doing everything but yawn to silently signal her total lack of interest.

      ‘Will you come?’

      ‘So that you two won’t have to talk to each other? I don’t think so.’

      ‘I’m not a woman.’

      This comment brought Fleur’s eyes back to his face. ‘I’d noticed.’

      Their eyes locked and suddenly the air was crackling with tension and alive with possibilities. The sort of possibilities that made her pulse rate quicken.

      ‘And you are a woman.’

      The tactile quality in his voice sent a shocking jolt of desire through her body. Fleur tensed and stepped backwards, her shoulder blades pressing into the door-frame.

      ‘And Tamara might prefer a woman to shop with.’

      Fleur, her expression schooled into blandness, stuck out her chin, determined not to let him see how his presence got to her even though she suspected it was way too late for such caution. Antonio Rochas had probably been born knowing the effect he had on women.

      ‘I can’t imagine that lingerie counters make you blush.’ She licked her dry lips.

      The action caught his attention. ‘Do I make you nervous?’

      She tried to sound amused as she retorted, ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

      ‘You want to know what I would like?’ The abrupt question had a driven quality.

      Her throat thick with emotions she was reluctant to put a name to, Fleur shook her head. Antonio took a strand of pale hair that had fallen across her face, his expression distracted as he smoothed it back from her brow. Holding her wide eyes, he set one hand on the wall above her head. Her heart thudded as he leaned forward, his big body curving over her.

      ‘But I think you know…and you would like it too, I think?’ The insolent half-smile that lifted one corner of his fascinating mouth did not touch his eyes. They were bluer than the brightest summer sky. Blue, hot and hungry; it made her dizzy just to look at them.

      Somehow Fleur forced the words past the limp in her aching throat. ‘I think you should go.’

      ‘I think so too,’ he agreed, showing no sign of doing so.

      ‘Well?’ She raised a brow, but instead of achieving irony her smile managed to come across as a victim of blind, relentless lust, which was nothing but the truth.

      ‘Have you any idea what it does to me to see you tremble just thinking about me touching you?’ He appeared to expect no reply, which was just as well because Fleur’s vocal cords were paralysed.

      ‘Shall I tell you?’ Antonio asked, touching a finger to the narrow band of midriff exposed where her tee shirt had ridden up.

      Fleur gasped at the electric shock that sizzled all the way to her toes. She went to slap his hand away, but somehow she ended up holding on to his wrist. She expelled her breath on a shuddering sigh as his flexed fingers spread across her warm flesh.

      Under his fingertips he could feel the contraction of the

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