couldn’t banish his heat; it couldn’t consume his need. Nothing could. He wanted her, and after seeing her he wanted her more than ever.
And he could have had her.
If she hadn’t pulled away, telling him she didn’t want him—lying to him—he would have had her there and then. Once more he would have felt her sweet tightness embrace him as no other woman could. Because she wanted him, he knew. He had known it from the first moment he had walked into her store, had read her own hunger in her eyes.
She needed him, no matter how much she pretended otherwise. He looked around for a street sign, getting his bearings. A woman caught his eye, smiled up at him. He scowled back and veered right.
But he had been right to come. Mentally he applauded the board’s decision to expand its casino operations into Australia. Tomorrow he was due in Queensland. And tonight he would get Leah back in his bed.
Soon her resistance would fall away. Soon she would have every reason to comply with his demands. And victory would be all the sweeter for the wait.
But right now he burned.
And he would not wait long!
Leah had never travelled to or from work in such style. She felt ridiculous, being ushered into the black limousine on a bow from the uniformed driver as if she were someone special instead of just another no-name, struggling for existence and survival in the big city. If it weren’t for the fact she needed to find out what Alejandro knew about Jordan, she would have refused point-blank to get in the car.
Especially for a six o’clock dinner. Not once in all the time she’d been with him had they eaten so early. What was the rush?
Fifteen minutes later the car pulled up at one of Sydney’s top hotels, making her feel even shabbier. She poked some stray tendrils that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ears as the driver came round to open her door, and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to quell the butterflies that had taken possession of her stomach at the prospect of seeing Alejandro again.
A smiling woman in a white fitted uniform met her as she alighted, holding out her hand. ‘Ms Mitchell? I’m Belinda from the beauty spa. Would you like to come with me?’
Leah looked to the driver, but he merely tipped his hat at her before curling himself into the driver’s seat. ‘I thought I was meeting Mr Rodriguez.’
Belinda smiled. ‘We have orders to deliver you to his suite no later than eight p.m.—which means we’d better get started. He’s ordered you the works.’
‘Has he?’ Leah bristled as she fell into step behind the woman. So, not only did he consider her scrawny and needing feeding up, now she needed a makeover before he’d be prepared to be seen in public with her. How very flattering.
Then again, anything that put off her meeting with Alejandro couldn’t be a bad thing. And a session in the beauty spa need not only be for Alejandro’s benefit. Anything that improved her self-esteem and made her feel at less of a disadvantage could only help her own cause.
She handed over her clothes for laundering in exchange for a fluffy robe, and surrendered herself to ‘the works’. It had been months since she had experienced anything like it—months since such pampering had been part and parcel of the package of being Alejandro’s love interest—and her body lapped up a luxury she could now ill afford. A scented oil bath and hot rock massage was followed by pedicure and manicure while someone else applied a facial. Finally her hair was cut and blow dried, then gathered into a style that pulled most of it up behind her head and left trailing coils down her neck. Professional make-up was the final touch.
Leah had to hand it to the team as she gazed at her reflection. They obviously knew their stuff. She felt more feminine than she had in weeks, with the dark circles around her eyes banished, letting her blue eyes sparkle, her formerly overdue-for-a-haircut hair now sleek and tamed, her cut-short-for-work nails now tapered and glossy red.
‘How do you feel?’ Belinda asked over her shoulder as the team surrounded her and surveyed their work.
Like a princess. ‘Wonderful,’ she said, and it wasn’t just their work she was applauding. Their skilful artistry had paid dividends, but there was something else she hadn’t noticed before. A resilience, a firmness in her chin that shone through and told her she didn’t have to be afraid. She’d walked away from Alejandro once before. She could handle whatever he had in mind. And now she was ready to prove it. ‘Where are my clothes?’
‘They’ve been sent up to the suite already. There’s a private lift that will take you direct to the penthouse. I’ll let the concierge know you’re ready.’
Leah swallowed back on a tinge of panic. She was expected to ascend to his room wearing nothing more than a fluffy robe? Alejandro certainly expected things all his own way. But she refused to let it undo her resolve as Belinda led her to the lift and bade her a good evening. She was up to whatever he threw at her. Hadn’t she just convinced herself of that?
There was no lobby. The lift doors opened directly into an expansive living room, decorated in golden hues and sprinkled with antique furniture. A grand piano held pride of place in one corner, a massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the scent of fresh flowers from numerous arrangements perfumed the air.
But all these things were incidental when it was the body sprawled so seemingly casually into a chair, one foot propped up on a footstool, that held her interest. For there was nothing casual about him. He looked ready to spring from his chair like a jungle cat, all grace and dark power, beauty and danger, wrapped up in one irresistible package. That she would resist! He watched her over steepled fingers, his gaze dark and penetrating. She refused to shrink back, although she did tighten the belt around her waist.
‘They said my clothes were sent up here.’
His head moved the merest fraction—his concession to a nod. ‘Not that you will be needing them.’
He rose from the chair in one languid movement that emphasised the lean power of his body. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘for forgetting my manners. I was deep in thought, and then you emerged from the lift looking like a goddess. I was simply struck dumb.’
All her senses were on red alert as he came closer. Not just because of his silken words, but because he looked so good himself. He’d showered recently, she could tell. His hair was curled and damp at the collar of his stark white shirt—a shirt that emphasised his rich olive skin and made him look even darker and more dangerous.
‘Lucky for me I scrub up well,’ she tossed into the ring, wanting to show him she was not bothered by his presence, while desperately trying not to be bothered by the clean scent of him curling into her senses.
He circled her—the jungle cat back at work, sizing up his meal. ‘Indeed you do, querida.’ His voice rumbled through her. ‘You “scrub up” very well.’
‘I assume if we’re to go to dinner I am to wear something?’
He came to a standstill in front of her and smiled. ‘If you are not to drive all the men wild with lust and their women wild with jealousy, it would be wise, yes.’
‘Perish the thought,’ she said, trying to lighten the mood in the room, though her skin prickled under her robe, her temperature rising. She was immune to his hyperbole—for the most part it washed over her—but as much as she
