the unevenness in her voice, the faint quaver she couldn’t quite suppress, as the result of being taken by surprise by his unexpected arrival. The last thing she wanted him to suspect was the sheer, mind-blowing, physical effect he had on her simply by existing. Just the sight of that long, lean body, the jet-black hair and burning golden eyes made her breath catch in her throat, her heart stumbling in its natural rhythm.
And today it was even worse. On every other occasion on which she had seen him, he had been dressed in an immaculately cut suit like the one he had been wearing on that first day. But today, perhaps as a concession to the heat of the sun outside, he had thrown off that formality, opting instead for casual jeans and a short-sleeved shirt.
The tight denim hugged the firm lines of his narrow waist and hips, emphasising his masculinity in a way that was sinfully sensual, and the pure white cotton of his shirt contrasted starkly with the bronzed skin at his arms and throat, making it seem darker and warmer as a result.
Nervously Serena twitched at the peach-coloured cover on her bed, painfully aware of the amount of pale, lightly freckled skin exposed by the sleeveless vee-necked top of her cream cotton nightdress. She longed to cover up, but feared that any unwise movement would simply draw his attention to the way she was feeling.
‘I’ve brought someone with me…’
‘Another visitor? That’s a surprise. I didn’t think I knew anyone in London.’
Her memory of the accident, and the days leading up to it, had still not returned, and in a way that she found intensely frustrating neither the doctor nor Rafael was prepared to give her any information on the subject.
‘You have to be patient,’ was the response she heard every time she asked a question or fretted at her lack of recollection. ‘It’s better to let your memory come back naturally, on its own. If you’re told anything at all, then that won’t happen.’
‘So where is this friend of yours?’
‘Right here…’ Rafael told her, bronzed forearms tensing as he lifted something up and deposited it on the bed.
Totally bemused, Serena realised that she was staring at a carrycot, and inside, dressed in soft blue cotton, tiny feet bare, lay a small baby.
‘Oh! He’s gorgeous!’ she exclaimed, her full mouth breaking into a smile of delight. Automatically she leaned forward, wanting to pick him up, then froze, unsure of what Rafael’s response might be.
‘You think so?’
Rafael’s reaction was not at all what she had expected. There was a new and disturbing tension in his tone, one that jarred sharply, scraping over Serena’s nerves and setting them sharply on edge.
‘Of course I do! Wouldn’t anyone…?’
Her words faded as, alerted by the sound of her voice, the baby stirred suddenly. His legs kicked sharply, small fists waving in the air, and his closed lids lifted, wide dark eyes looking directly into hers. Her breath suddenly caught in her throat as she felt an involuntary kick of response.
‘What’s his name?’ she managed on a dry, painful croak.
A faint thatch of fine black hair fuzzed the baby’s scalp. The black hair and something about the shape of the child’s face reminded her strongly of the man beside her. The man whose image had haunted her thoughts by day, disturbed her sleep at night in heated, shockingly erotic dreams that she had woken from to find her heart still racing, her hair damp with sweat.
‘His full name is Antonio Felipe Martinez Cordoba.’
Cordoba. There it was. The confirmation she had been dreading. How had this happened to her? How could this man, whom she had known for only a few days, have such an effect on her that it mattered so much to think that he might already be in a relationship? That he had fathered a child with another woman.
‘What a mouthful.’
She concentrated her attention on the baby as she spoke, putting out a tentative finger to stroke one waving hand, a smile escaping her as she saw the way his little fist closed round it, clutching hard. And in that moment it was as if the little boy’s hand had curled around her heart as well, taking it prisoner as it was flooded with an unexpected and totally overwhelming rush of love for this small, vulnerable being.
‘A big name for such a little scrap.’
‘I call him Tonio.’
‘That suits him.’ She bent forward, smiling into the child’s wide eyes, the red-gold curtain of her hair falling round her oval face, forming a shield from Rafael’s watchful gaze. ‘He’s yours?’
His wordless murmur went unheeded as her thoughts leapt on to the next logical connection.
‘I didn’t know you were married.’
‘I’m not.’ His unexpected response brought her head round in a rush, brown eyes widening in shock. ‘Never have been, even though I came close to it once.’
‘Then Tonio. He’s a—a—love-child?’
Her heart was doing crazy things inside her chest: beating way too fast and twisting, practically turning somersaults, so that she was unable to breathe. Not married didn’t mean not committed, and after all what greater commitment was there between two people than the fact that they had a child together?
‘A love-child?’ Rafael’s beautifully shaped mouth twisted cynically on the word. ‘There are those who would call him something far less complimentary.’
‘But if you and his mother are together…’
‘No!’ It came forcefully, almost violently, and those brilliant golden eyes blazed with fierce rejection of her statement. ‘Tonio’s mother and I are not, as you so tactfully put it, “together”.’
Serena’s heart, which had started to slow down, to return to its natural rhythm, lurched painfully at the sudden change in his tone.
Somehow, without quite knowing how, she had overstepped whatever careful lines he drew around his personal life. The man she had grown accustomed to over the past few days had vanished and the person she had privately nicknamed the Spanish Inquisitor, the man who had so upset and frightened her at their first meeting, was back.
‘I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’
Thoroughly unnerved, she snatched her hand away from the baby’s grasp, suddenly afraid to show her response to the child.
‘I never…’
But she got no further. Furious at having his new-found toy so abruptly snatched from him, Tonio murmured a faint protest which then developed into a full-blooded howl, his little face screwing into a furious grimace, his cheeks flushed bright red.
‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry!’ Serena’s remorse was immediate, her fear of Tonio’s father forgotten as she moved hastily to comfort the little boy.
Rafael was there before her, scooping the child out of his carrycot and gathering him close.
‘Hush, mi corazón, hush,’ he soothed huskily. ‘All is well; you’re safe.’
