di Dios, he was turning into a sad adult version of some sex-starved teenager! For a man who prided himself on his self-control it was…not tolerable. The only thing that was going to restore him to sanity was spending a week in bed with Zoe Grace.
He exhaled. The first step to solving a problem was admitting it existed. This he had already done. The next step was to work out a strategy. He needed to treat this problem like any other and apply logic and cool objectivity. The problem was that where his housekeeper was concerned he struggled to think objectively, and as for logic—he’d just stolen a boat, for God’s sake!
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Zoe said, looking at him over the soggy tissue she had produced and was now sniffing loudly into.
The prosaic action was rather touching, but not touching enough to hold his attention when the competition was the heaving contours of her breasts under the thin layer of drenched cotton through which her peaked nipples were clearly outlined.
‘I rather doubt that, querida.’ His thoughts were pretty rampant.
‘You think I’m not fit to look after a cat, let alone two children,’ she wailed, in full self-pity mode.
He did not respond with any comforting denials, but glanced rather pointedly at his watch.
This callous behaviour drew a hiss of annoyance from between her chattering teeth. ‘So sorry—am I keeping you?’ she said, wondering why she had thought for a second that her problems would do anything but bore the pants off him.
Her eyes dropped, running the length of his long legs, then making the journey back once she had reached his now muddy boots. She could see that, for some women, getting his pants off by whatever method would be considered a good result but she…Who was she kidding? Even on the brink of what felt like imminent hypothermia she could not stop lusting after him.
‘Not at all. Feel free to go ahead and beat yourself up,’ he encouraged. Zoe tried to bear her teeth in a snarl but she was shaking too hard and she bit her lip instead, drawing a pinprick of blood and his disturbing dark stare. ‘But do you mind if we continue this conversation indoors?’
Zoe glanced at the hotel entrance. The golden light shining through the doors looked warm and inviting…and she was very cold. She lifted a hand to the hair that was plastered to her skull. His was, too, but in his case the effect was not drowned rat.
‘I can’t.’ It was an invitation for him to contradict her, and he accepted it.
‘Can and will,’ he said, catching hold of her hand. ‘We need a room.’ On so many levels they needed a room!
‘You can’t walk in and book a room for a few hours,’ she said, pointing out the obvious. At least it seemed obvious to her.
‘Why not? People do. Oh, I see.’ He laughed. ‘You’re afraid your reputation will be ruined if you’re seen going into a hotel room with a man.’
‘Of course not. And nobody is going to think that you…me…we…unless you normally have to half drown a woman before she’ll have sex with you.’
‘Not so far.’
Before she could interpret the odd inflection in his voice he had tightened his grip and virtually dragged her up the shallow flight of steps.
The warmth inside the hotel foyer hit her like a wall. So did the stares. It seemed to Zoe that a thousand eyes followed their progress.
But, as he predicted, nobody attempted to stop them, though it would have taken a very brave person to approach Isandro, who had adopted what she privately called his ‘to hell with the lot of you’ expression. His antagonism was probably aimed at her. This couldn’t have been the way he had intended to spend his day, but the people who cleared a path for him weren’t to know that.
It was amazing, she reflected enviously, as at her side Isandro gave every appearance of being genuinely oblivious to the stares and hushed comments that followed their progress across the lobby. But then he was probably used to people staring. And who could blame them? she thought as she directed a covert sideways look through her lashes at his stern profile, dishevelled but beautiful.
Even as someone who had previously not been totally sold on the dark brooding aura, she was willing to admit he was a fantastically good-looking man, who didn’t just have the perfect face and body but also the indefinable extra factor. Confidence, sheer arrogance—whatever it was, he had it, and being extremely damp with his clothes spattered with mud and badly in need of a shave did not lessen it. The liberal sprinkling of stubble on his jaw lent an extra layer of air of danger, and did not exactly diminish his appeal.
So who could blame people for staring? she thought, making a conscious effort to emulate some of his attitude. And promptly tripping over the sodden hem of her jeans. It would happen when one stared at a man and not where one was going!
The ripple of laughter at her near pratfall brought her chin up. Trotting now to keep up with Isandro, Zoe suddenly thought, To hell with this! and gave the person who had laughed an enquiring look, even managing to inject a little hauteur into it. The culprit looked away before she did.
Zoe smiled and looked ahead. No amount of shoulder hunching or wishful thinking was going to make her vanish so she might as well borrow some of Isandro’s attitude, even if she couldn’t carry it off with his style.
‘May I help you, sir?’ A man whose lapel badge identified him as the manager intercepted them when they were halfway across the lobby. He guided them towards the reception desk where the eager-to-please attentiveness continued.
The people behind the reception desk almost fell over themselves being helpful to the point of obsequiousness, but Isandro, who was firing off his list of requirements, didn’t appear to notice. This was probably his life, she mused, giving impossible orders and having people fall over themselves to deliver.
After a few moments he turned to a shivering Zoe. He hadn’t forgotten her after all. ‘I’ll be up presently. You go along.’
The manager reappeared holding a large blanket, which, on an approving nod from Isandro, he draped almost reverentially over Zoe’s shoulders. ‘Jeremy will show you the way, miss.’
Jeremy, neat in his uniform, nodded and motioned for her to precede him into the glass lift that he explained was for the exclusive use of the penthouse. Penthouse…Zoe almost laughed. She was well aware that if she hadn’t been Isandro’s satellite she wouldn’t have got through the front door, let alone been given this VIP treatment.
In the second before the doors closed Isandro turned, zeroing in on her like radar. His smile flickered as he caught her eye and tipped his dark head.
As the door swished closed her heart was still beating fast. The moment, a mere nothing in reality, felt strangely intimate to Zoe, as if they were exchanging some private secret.
‘I had a slight boating accident.’ A half-smile flickered across her face as she realised that if Isandro had been there he would have been mystified and probably irritated by her need to explain herself to a hotel employee. Jeremy made a sympathetic noise but did not volunteer an opinion.
As soon as the door to the suite was closed, Zoe explored her palatial surroundings only as far as the bathroom that adjoined one of the bedrooms, conscious that she was leaving a trail of wet, muddy footprints.
The
