Public Marriage, Private Secrets. Helen Bianchin

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Public Marriage, Private Secrets - Helen Bianchin Mills & Boon Modern

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seemed achingly familiar. Followed by a heart-lurching few seconds when everything within her peripheral vision froze into a fixed tableau…until she glimpsed his profile and saw the face of a stranger, and her personal world returned to its normal kilter.

      Oh, for heaven’s sake, she chastised in self-castigation. There was work to do. Stock to arrange. Deliveries to check. And her clientele. A business to run.

      Busy was good. A steady flow of people wanting assistance ensured there was little time in which to think or reflect, and Gianna welcomed Annaliese, the part-time assistant who helped out in the boutique from ten-thirty to four, seven days a week.

      It was an employment arrangement that worked well, and had done so for the past two years.

      Attractive, intelligent, sunny-tempered, with a droll sense of humour, Annaliese was a superb salesperson and, importantly, dedicated.

      ‘Hi. One double-shot skim latte for madame.

      Delivering coffee, hot and strong, had become a welcome habit Annaliese had initiated during the first week of her employment.

      ‘Thanks.’ Gianna’s gratitude was genuine, and Annaliese offered a warm smile as she took the capped takeaway cup to the small back room. ‘Busy morning?’

      The day brought several customers into the boutique. There were the serious buyers, and those who merely browsed, as well as a few regulars.

      It was almost five when Gianna checked the sales register. The recorded total revealed a satisfactorily high figure…sufficient to warrant ordering replacement stock. Something she’d tend to prior to closing time.

      A faint prickle began at her nape and slipped down her spine as she cut the phone connection to her supplier with bare minutes to spare before she was due to walk out through the door.

      The electronic door buzzed, and she summoned a pleasant smile…only to have it freeze with shock at the sight of the man entering the boutique.

      His powerful frame appeared no less imposing than she remembered, and his dark hair gleamed beneath the artificial lighting, emphasising broad-boned facial features, a strong jaw, wide cheekbones, the Mediterranean skin tone…and eyes so dark they appeared almost black.

      Raúl.

      Ex-lover, estranged husband…and a man she had fervently hoped never to see again.

      Dear heaven. What was he doing here?

      For a startling moment she was flung back to a time when her life had been everything she could want it to be.

      Until it had all fallen apart in those wretched few months following her miscarriage, when the pain of grief had wrought such havoc.

      He’d phoned, and when she had refused to take his calls he’d arrived on her doorstep, demanding she return with him to Madrid.

      Except she’d stood her ground, wanting time and space alone…and he’d left, assuring her the next move had to be hers.

      ‘Nothing to say, Gianna?’

      The slightly accented drawl curled round her nerve-ends and brought her crashing back to reality as she took in his etched features.

      Eyes as dark as sin, with tiny lines fanning out from the edges. Vertical grooves bracketing each cheek, which seemed slightly deeper and more clearly defined.

      She lingered a little too long on his mouth…The sensual curve revived a host of memories she fought hard to control. Vivid, primitive…so much so she could almost feel the touch of his lips, the wicked sweep of his tongue.

      Oh, God. The silent despairing groan remained locked in her throat. Don’t go there.

      It took all her effort to tilt her head a little and summon a wry smile.

      ‘What would you have me offer? Hello, how are you? seems…’ She paused deliberately.

      ‘Inadequate?’

      ‘Incredibly banal,’ Gianna concluded, and saw his eyes darken.

      ‘Now, there’s an interesting word.’

      She glimpsed a muscle bunch above the edge of his jaw and felt a moment of satisfaction as she enjoyed the small visible sign of his tension.

      Even though she wore high heels Raúl still towered above her, and she tilted her head in order to align her eyes with his.

      ‘What brings you here?’

      ‘Australia? The Gold Coast in particular?’ he drawled, and she swept an arm to encompass the boutique.

       ‘Here.’

      One eyebrow lifted in cynical query. ‘To see you.’

      ‘A phone call would have taken care of whatever you have to say.’

      ‘If you chose to take my call.’

      Would she have? She still had his name on her caller register. So she could pick up or ignore if he rang. He hadn’t, but she’d felt the need to have the option.

      ‘I can’t imagine anything being sufficiently important to warrant your personal appearance.’

      He looked at her carefully, examining her slender form…more slender than he remembered. Pale features beneath the skilled touch of light make-up, the almost undetectable shadows beneath her brilliant blue eyes. The deep-beating pulse at the base of her throat.

      Not so calm beneath her projected persona, Raúl detected with a degree of satisfaction.

      ‘No?’

      She couldn’t quite restrain the faint edge to her voice. ‘There’s nothing you could say that I want to hear.’

      At that moment the door buzzer sounded, and it took her a few seconds to ignore the silent as if I need this now? before she turned towards the entrance.

      ‘Excuse me? Are you still open?’

      Raúl inclined his head towards Gianna in silent query, admiring her switch to polite composure as she summoned a smile and moved forward to greet the customer.

      ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’

      ‘The large red bowl in the window display. As soon as I saw it I knew it would be perfect.’

      ‘Exquisite, isn’t it?’ Gianna relayed with professional ease. ‘Imported Venetian glass.’ She crossed to the display and carefully removed the item. The ticket price was clearly visible and, although expensive, the woman didn’t hesitate.

      ‘I’ll take it.’

      Gianna produced a warm smile. ‘Is it a gift? Would you like it gift-wrapped?’

      ‘If it’s no trouble.’

      ‘It’ll be a pleasure.’ It took only

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