me an hour in the study. Around ten.’
It was a glorious day, the sun high in an azure sky, with a soft breeze tempering the midsummer heat.
Alejandro brought the car to a halt and switched off the engine. The view out over the park was one of tranquillity, with several large trees lining the grassed verge. Bleached white sand bordered the eastern boundary, and the surface of the lazy outgoing ocean tide shimmered in the early afternoon heat.
‘Hungry?’
Elise turned towards him and offered an easy smile. ‘Ravenous.’
The park was almost empty, and Alejandro slid from behind the wheel and walked to the rear of the vehicle to retrieve a rug, cushions and a picnic hamper from the capacious boot, choosing a smooth patch of grass beneath a nearby tree.
Minutes later Elise sank to her knees and watched as he began apportioning food on to two plates.
Cold chicken and salad, with crusty bread rolls and fresh fruit, presented a veritable feast, and she picked up a chicken leg and bit into it with relish.
‘Your appetite is improving,’ Alejandro commented in approval, and she wrinkled her nose at him.
He sat stretched out beside her, his powerfully muscled legs tanned by the sun. His feet, like hers, were shod in Reeboks.
Looking the antithesis of a wheeling, dealing multinational corporate leader, he had ignored designer leisurewear in favour of cut-off jeans and a loose cotton shirt. The effect was devastating, she conceded as she allowed herself a circumspect appraisal, all too aware of the effect he had on her equilibrium as she admired his chiselled jaw, the firm sensual mouth, then slowly raised her eyes to meet the dark intentness of his gaze.
There was a latent indolence apparent, a studied watchfulness that was wholly sexual. She could sense his potent chemistry, like a magnetic force field, and something stirred deep within, pulsing through the tracery of veins, triggering nerve-ends until her whole body became caught up in the thrall of physical awareness.
‘A sip of wine?’
‘It will make me sleepy,’ she protested as he extended the patterned flute to her lips. There was something incredibly intimate about placing her mouth to the rim where his had been only seconds before, and she savoured a small quantity of the excellent Chardonnay, letting it slip slowly down her throat, then followed it with several long swallows of iced water.
‘Would that be such a bad thing?’
She sensed the faint humour in his voice and her eyes widened slightly. It would be so easy to reach out and touch him, to place fingers against that hard jaw and explore the vertical crease slashing each cheek. She wanted to, badly.
Almost as much as she wanted to feel his mouth against her own, his hand shaping her breast. A long, slow prelude to a passionate overture. Except that she wasn’t sure if she was ready for the finale.
Such wayward thoughts were infinitely dangerous to her peace of mind. In an effort to shut them out she turned her attention to the horizon, aware of his deft movements as he extracted a fresh peach and began peeling it.
What was he like as a lover? Passionate, primitive, shameless. Dear Lord in heaven, could there be any doubt?
‘Elise?’
She turned at the sound of his voice, and her fingers shook slightly as she took a segment of fruit from his outstretched hand. ‘Thanks.’
It was deliciously cool and juicy, and she followed it with a glass of chilled mineral water.
If she lay back and closed her eyes, maybe it would stem this inner restlessness. She hadn’t taken into account the soft sea breeze, the sun’s warmth, or their midday meal. Together they had a soporific effect, and it took only minutes for her to slip into a light doze.
Elise woke slowly, passing through the threshold of sleep to a state of nebulous consciousness, aware that the slight feeling of lethargy had dissipated. It was difficult to tell whether it could be attributed to the recuperation process or her pregnancy.
Perhaps it was a combination of both, she decided lazily as she let her eyelashes sweep slowly upwards.
Alejandro lay sprawled in a half sitting position within touching distance, his head propped in one hand as he faced her, and she blinked as he lifted a hand and trailed gentle fingers down the edge of her jaw.
‘Pleasant dreams?’
She couldn’t recollect even one. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘Almost an hour,’ he responded, and her eyes widened in disbelief.
‘You should have woken me.’
‘Why?’ he asked, watching the play of emotions across her expressive features. ‘There’s no need to hurry home.’
Elise stared at him, aware of the sheer physicality of his powerful body and his ability to make her feel infinitely fragile. There was a warmth evident in those dark eyes, a latent sensuality that was deeply disturbing.
It was as if she was being drawn to him by some invisible magnet, and she became increasingly confused as her emotions swung like a pendulum between cautious acceptance and denial.
Logic reasoned that a man of his considerable means could easily have hired a nurse-companion for her and continued to devote most of his energies to an extensive business empire. Yet he had not chosen to delegate. Surely such an action was sufficient evidence of his caring? Why this instinctive niggling doubt that persisted despite every effort to rationalise and dispel it?
‘Ready for some exercise?’
Her eyes cleared, and a smile curved her mouth. ‘Yes.’
With easy lithe movements he rose to his feet, extending a hand to help her, then he stowed the hamper in the boot and followed it with the rug and cushions.
They walked in companionable silence, and Elise lifted her face to the sunshine, loving the soft afternoon breeze as it came off the sea, the slight tangy smell of salt refreshingly evident.
There were young children playing close by, three beneath the age of five, and a lovely plump baby sitting on a rug beneath the shade of a wide beachumbrella.
Elise looked at the baby’s bright eyes, the wide smile and happily flailing arms as the young mother deftly exchanged one nappy for another.
Something tugged deep inside her, a wistful longing that came from nowhere, and she made no protest as Alejandro curved an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side.
Unbidden, her own fingers traced a light path across her waist, then paused in an unconsciously protective gesture.
Would their child be a dark-haired imp inheriting his father’s genes, or a flaxen-haired angel who would steal her father’s heart? Without doubt their child would be fortunate enough to lead a privileged existence.
It was late afternoon when they arrived back at Palm Beach, and Elise wandered through the house while Alejandro checked the fax machine and made a few calls.
She
