In the Argentine's Bed / Secret Baby, Public Affair
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“I’ll be here. I can’t go home without your DNA. I could get fired.”
Amado frowned and his fingers stopped their vigorous and soothing movements. “You’ll get fired by the guy who’s supposed to be my father? What kind of man is this?”
“A demanding one.” She tried not to pay attention to the way he cradled her foot in his hands. “He expects the best from all his employees.”
“Surely he can’t fire you for something I’ve done, or rather, refused to do?”
“Sure he can. He’d see it as firing me for my failure to execute.”
Amado looked thoughtful. Then he bent his head and resumed his precise massage. Susannah tried not to wriggle on the sofa as he nailed one pressure point after another, creating sensations of deep relaxation and startling pleasure.
She allowed herself to sink back into the cushions. To let go.
A night in Amado’s bed in exchange for the DNA sample.
Her skin tingled at the prospect of those magic hands roaming…all over it. She suppressed a shiver of anticipation.
She was sure he’d keep the bargain. There was something old-world about him. He positively reeked of honor and integrity.
And sensuality. Their eyes met. Desire darkened his eyes and a spark of…something leaped between them.
Amado settled her feet gently on the ground. He rose and crossed the room.
She exhaled with relief as his intense and dangerously handsome presence receded into the shadows.
Spend the night in my bed.
His words from earlier—spoken half in jest, no doubt—seemed to hover in the air, thickening it. The crackling fire echoed the heat building and snapping inside her.
She hadn’t made love in a long time.
Actually—not to put too fine a point on it—she hadn’t made love ever. She’d had sex, but not for, oh…well, it was just plain embarrassing to think about how long it had been.
She was busy.
Always on the move.
Was there something wrong with having a sensual fling with an interested male? People did it all the time.
Her coworkers regaled their lurid exploits around the cappuccino machine in the office every Monday. Some of their stories made her jaw drop. They weren’t saving themselves for Mr. Right any more than they had been in college. They lived for the moment.
They had fun.
Why couldn’t she have some fun too, for a change?
Her ears pricked up at an exchange between Amado and Rosa. A minute later she heard Rosa leave, closing the door behind her.
She tensed in anticipation at the sound of Amado’s decisive footsteps on the polished floor. He reappeared with two steaming white mugs.
And she’d get the DNA. Tarrant would be happy. She’d keep her job.
If Amado wasn’t his son, which she suspected, there’d be no harm done.
If he was, Amado would no doubt inherit some of Tarrant’s billions.
The retail tycoon was terminally ill and might have only weeks to live. He was trying desperately to find and embrace his long-neglected, illegitimate offspring before he died.
Either way, she’d be doing a good deed.
Right?
Amado handed her a mug. His dark eyes narrowed. “You have a strange expression on your face.”
“Me?” She let out a high, false laugh. “I’m just getting mesmerized by the fire, or something.”
Emphasis on the or something.
She sniffed the contents of the cup. “Coffee at this time of night? Won’t it keep us awake?”
Amado’s mouth hitched slightly on one side. Something resembling a smile—or rather a wicked grin—crept across his face so slowly she wondered if she was imagining it. “Sometimes it’s good to be awake at night.”
He settled into the sofa beside her. Close. His muscled thigh brushed against her skirt.
Her pulse quickened.
The heat of his body mingled with the warmth of the fire and her own elevated body temperature.
What if Tarrant found out she’d slept with the man he thought was his son?
She swallowed hard. He wouldn’t.
Amado would never tell. The old-world-honor thing. She sensed that he kept his emotions close to his chest. They’d spent hours together and while he’d talked about each of his wines like a beloved mistress, there’d been no mention whatsoever of his personal life.
She also suspected that—like his charming vineyard tour and his expert foot massage—he did this quite often.
Which, rather than alarming her, actually took the pressure off.
She sensed his steady dark gaze on her as she sipped her drink. Mmm. Sticky, rich, dulce de leche sweetened the coffee.
“Where does your family live now?”
His question jarred her out of the sensual fog she’d drifted into. “You mean my parents?”
He frowned. “Yes, and your brothers and sisters.”
“I don’t have any brothers and sisters. There’s just me. My parents are back in the Philippines. They’re running a program there for at-risk teens.”
“They sound like good people.”
“They are. I wish I was more like them. Or at least I feel I should wish that. But someone’s got to devote their life to finding the best wines in the world, don’t you think?”
Her words rang in the still air. Heat crept up her neck, embarrassment that she’d laid bare her insecurities.
Amado didn’t blink. “Each of us has his or her own path. By trying to follow the wrong one, you do a disservice to yourself and to others.” He laid a big, reassuring hand on her arm. “And I can’t think of a more worthy pursuit than the quest for excellent wine.” He tilted his head and his eyes glittered. “But then, I’m biased.”
Her arm heated under his palm. He was close enough that she could smell his scent. She distracted herself by trying to analyze it.
Complex aroma, rich and appealing. A risky but invigorating blend of coffee, fermented grapes, burnt wood and hardworking male.
Full and robust bouquet. The finish might well be bittersweet…but worth it.
His palm moved over her forearm. Not really going anywhere, just moving back and forth. Stroking her.
She glanced at his face, but he didn’t look up. He seemed intent on the simple motion. Was this some kind of weird Argentine seduction trick?
If it was, it appeared to be working. Strange sensations bubbled inside her. When his hand slid to her thigh, resting lightly on it through the thin fabric of her skirt, it felt as natural and unthreatening as a handshake.
Or a kiss on the cheek.
Amado’s lips brushed her cheekbone so lightly she wondered for a moment if she’d imagined it or simply wished it.
The second time his mouth rested for a moment right beside hers, until her lips stung with anticipation. His breath heated her skin.
His hand slid up her thigh, bringing her dress with it, until the hem climbed over her knee.
She realized she was leaning toward him. Since it felt so natural, she leaned closer, her nipples tight and tingling under her blousy top.
She slid one arm around him, aware of his muscled back through the soft fabric of his shirt.
Amado’s bare palm on her thigh made her gasp. He’d hiked her skirt up almost to her underwear and warmth from the fire baked her skin.
She glanced at his face. His eyes were closed, his expression simple and familiar: the intense appreciation of a connoisseur.
Susannah’s eyes slid shut as his mouth claimed hers, hot and ready. She could feel his body heat through their clothes. Almost without thinking, she pulled gently at his shirt until it came loose from his pants in the back, then she slid her fingers over the firm ridges of muscle on either side of his spine.
Excitement built inside her as their kiss deepened. Heat gathered between her legs and desire thickened inside her.
It had been a long time since she’d kissed anyone. Usually she avoided personal entanglements. She was busy, she traveled a lot, and she didn’t need the drama.
But this was perfect. They both knew what they wanted, and there was a neat and tidy ending already in sight.
Unless he was Tarrant’s son, of course. A frisson of unease rippled through her.
But that was unlikely. With his dark coloring and smooth, sculpted features, Amado didn’t look like the angular, blue-eyed Tarrant. And Clara certainly didn’t fit the mold of Tarrant’s glamorous ex-lovers.
She shoved the potential complication from her mind.
Tonight would be a delicious interlude. A sweet taste of pleasure, like the sip of a wine she knew she wouldn’t buy for the company, but that she drank purely for her own enjoyment.
Amado cupped her breast in his broad hand, strumming her nipple until it peaked against his palm.
“Come with me,” he breathed the words in her ear.
He picked up her hand and squeezed it in his. Anticipation shone in his coffee-brown eyes.
She rose from the sofa, legs shivering. Her whole body tingled with arousal, from her scalp to the soles of her well-massaged feet.
He led her by the hand, the perfect gentleman, except that he was doing something a perfect gentleman would never do—seduce a virtual stranger.
Somehow that gave her an illicit thrill.
She’d always been the good girl, the minister’s daughter no one even dared to look at, let alone entice into bed. She’d been taught from toddlerhood to set a good example for those around her. To think about others and put her own needs aside.
For a long time, she never even knew she had needs.
Right now, as her belly throbbed with desire, she was aware of little else.
Chapter Three
Amado led Susannah past antique furniture and rugs glowing with the rich colors of natural pigments. The house had obviously been lovingly cared for by generations of grateful owners.
The stairway’s curved wood banister gleamed in the distant firelight. They exchanged a cautious smile.
Well, hers was cautious, his was encouraging.
Come into my chamber, said the spider to the fly.
But she was a willing fly, so why not?
Amado’s personal bedchamber was large, with velvet floor-length draperies covering the windows. A four-poster bed carved from dark wood dominated the space. The fluffy white duvet covered the high mattress like a low-hanging cloud, inviting Susannah to sink into its softness.
Amado rested his hand on her hip. He kissed her with exquisite gentleness, taking his time, savoring her.
She let her fingers roam over his shirt, enjoying the shape of him beneath the fabric. His body was hard and athletic, capable of speed and force. But his movements were tender, almost unbearably so, as he licked her lips, brushed them with his mouth, and nuzzled his cheek gently against hers.
His suntanned skin wasn’t exactly soft, but it wasn’t rough either. Everything about Amado seemed smooth and mellow, like a fine wine.
He pulled back slightly. “Let me make you at home in my bed.”
Her insides shimmered at the prospect. Amado’s dark eyes shone with simple desire that echoed her own. His forearms brushed the sides of her breasts, stirring delicious tremors of sensation, as he unhooked and unzipped the back of her dress.
He lowered the fabric over her shoulders to reveal her bra. She’d worn a pretty one today. Had she somehow known?
His big hands cupped the silver-gray satin and lace, and rubbed her nipples gently through the fabric. Susannah couldn’t help wriggling as arousal tingled over her skin. She reached for his shirt and pulled the buttons out through the soft fabric.
Amado’s chest was thickly muscled, with a narrow trail of hair descending from his belly button into the low-slung waist of his pants. A sturdy leather belt held the latter firmly closed, and she struggled with the stiff hide while Amado layered hot, breathy kisses over her neck.
His erection jutted beneath the buckle. She enjoyed a naughty sense of satisfaction at this proof that he was every bit as turned on and wound up as she was.
At last, she pulled the leather loose and tackled the fly of his pants. As she pushed the khaki fabric down over his hard thighs, her fingers trembled with excitement.
Amado eased her dress down, and squeezed her backside. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. He had a wide mouth with a bold, sensual cut. High cheekbones and a strong nose. The kind of looks that made women sigh and nudge each other.
Susannah was usually intimidated by extravagant good looks in a man. She didn’t want to deal with the oversize ego that came with them.
But with Amado, his proud features seemed a natural extension of everything she admired and liked about him: his passion and dedication, the confidence born of hardwon success.
Why shouldn’t you be arrogant, if you’d earned the right?
He unhooked the clasp on the front of her bra, and lifted the cups from her breasts. Tight with arousal, her nipples stung in the night air drifting through the open windows.
He eased the straps down over her arms, and placed her bra carefully on a chair, on top of her neatly folded dress.
With the same careful deliberation he lowered his head and licked her left nipple. The rough texture of his tongue on the supersensitive flesh made her gasp. At the same moment, he slid his fingers into her panties. She could feel herself slick against them.
Should she be embarrassed that her arousal was so obvious? She didn’t know what to think. Couldn’t think, as pleasure stole over her body.
Amado’s delight in her was palpable. She could sense his heart beating beneath his ribs, hear his deepening breaths as he sucked her nipples to peaks of pleasurable tension.
He eased her panties down over her thighs and placed them on the chair, then removed his underwear and stood facing her. They watched each other. Both naked, aroused, expectant.
His sturdy male body and the raw strength it implied appealed to her in a way she couldn’t begin to articulate or even understand.
But why should she? She didn’t need to analyze everything and understand it. She didn’t need to figure out how it all fit together.
“You see the world differently than other people.”
Amado’s low voice crept into her ear.
She blinked. “How?” Could he read her thoughts?
She felt naked. She was naked.
He stroked her chin. “You don’t see only the surface of things. You see inside them, too.”
“I’m not so sure. I don’t see inside you.”
His dark eyes fixed on hers.
“Yes, you do.”
She frowned. What did he think she was thinking? Should she ask? Her heart beat faster.
But she didn’t get a chance to ask because Amado’s bold mouth covered hers in a swift and forceful kiss.
At the same time, he swept her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and laid her on the duvet.
She sank into the thick, soft surface and Amado climbed over her. For a second, she wondered if he’d part her legs and enter her, and her belly tightened with a mix of fear and anticipation.
But he didn’t. He stretched himself out alongside her, skin to skin, his flat stomach against her hip, his long, hard thighs against hers, his muscled arm holding her close.
“Welcome home.” He nuzzled her ear and kissed her neck.
Susannah’s eyes widened as a powerful and deeply strange sensation flooded her.
Welcome home? What a weird thing to say. Still, no reason to get all worked up. It was probably his shtick for the tourists. It wasn’t like he actually meant it.
“Your brain is so busy,” he whispered. “Sometimes you just have to be.”
“To be what?” Her brain raced faster.
“You.”
“And who’s that?”
He kissed her ear, his warm breath sending shivers of heat dancing through her. “Just you.”
His gaze shone black in the scant silver moonlight creeping in around the draperies. “Your mouth.” He licked her lips, left them cool and humming.
“Your neck.” He bit it gently, a careful vampire.
“Your chest.” He brushed her breast with his cheek, then sucked each nipple in turn.
“Your stomach.” He blew hot air on her skin, making it shiver. Then he licked around her belly button and grazed her skin with his teeth. For a second, her womb seemed to yearn toward him and Susannah almost cried out from the odd and powerful sensation.
Maybe Suki was right to warn her about Argentine men. She’d never experienced anything like this before. Her previous sexual experience was a series of quick and embarrassed fumbles by comparison.
And they hadn’t even done anything yet.
“Stop thinking.”
Her insides contracted again, and ripples of pleasure washed through her.
What is this man doing to me?
He parted her legs and lowered his mouth between her thighs. He licked and sucked until her hips rose off the mattress and a high-pitched moan escaped her mouth.
Her eyes flew open and she glanced down to see his gaze gleaming in the moonlight.
“Just let go and be. With me.” His voice rasped, husky. His hair fell to his eyes, which fixed on her, dark slits of passion.
Already half insane with arousal, Susannah wriggled against him, enjoying the sensation of his hot, hungry mouth on her flesh. Fierce contractions rocked her, starting from his tongue—like the plug in an electric socket—and surging through her entire body in waves. They flung her against the bed where she cried out, again and again, as Amado moved his mouth over her, rocking her deeper into the crazy otherworld where there was no thought, only fierce and overwhelming pleasure.
Howling outside the windows penetrated her consciousness as her shuddering body collapsed back against the hot duvet.
“What’s that?” she gasped.
“The dogs.” Amado grinned. “They want to know what all the fuss is about.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. She could hear them yowling outside the window. “Did I make that much noise?”
“Yes.” He nuzzled her neck, his pleasure at her abandon written all over his face. “But don’t start thinking now.”
“I don’t know what…I’ve never…” Susannah frowned. Stray energy still whipped through her in uneven bursts.
“You never had an orgasm?”
“Is that what this is?”
Amado grinned. “Sure is. Feels good, huh?”
Susannah nodded.
Amado bent down and kissed her belly, which contracted tightly as his lips touched her. “You’re sensitive.” He looked up, eyes shining. “Very responsive.”
He leaned away from her and she heard him rip something. He turned and rolled a condom over his impressive erection. Susannah blinked.
He was so…matter-of-fact about it. Unembarrassed. Like this was a normal, everyday thing to do.
Maybe it was, for him.
He climbed over her and her skin tingled as he hovered above her. He nuzzled her neck again—how she loved that—and breathed in her ear. “You feel more than other people. That’s why you think too much. But it’s okay to simply feel.”
Susannah swallowed. Her brain wanted to make sense of his words but her body was utterly focused on Amado. He entered her in a single swift motion that pushed her into the soft mattress.
So aroused already, she couldn’t stop herself from climaxing again immediately. Tremors rippled through her. She could hear the sounds she was making, but she couldn’t do anything about them. Couldn’t prevent her arms from winding around his powerful torso and clutching him close.
“Oh, Amado.” She heard herself cry out his name as he moved inside her. He thrust into her, gentle, then harder, slow, then fast. Taking his time, then rushing until she climaxed again—and again—totally unable to control the spasm of her muscles and the shivering sneezes of sensation that racked her body.
She took him deeper, pleading with him in Spanish and in English and several other languages to take her and love her and hold her and make her his. To go faster and rougher and harder and…
Amado shouted as he climaxed. She opened her eyes in time to see his face in tortured ecstasy. He held her so tight she could barely breathe and they crashed into the mattress together with force. He panted, hugging her to him, moaning, as he throbbed inside her.
“Por amor.” His breath rasped against her ear.
Susannah blinked, blinded by even the tiny slivers of moonlight that played across the walls. Love?
It was probably just an expression. She didn’t know Argentine idioms.
Besides, her mind didn’t seem to work too well anymore. She was all body. All sensation, all touch and lick and soft, pliant wetness.
Amado’s head lay on her chest—he appeared to have collapsed from exhaustion, but she could see his eyes on her, wide and dark and filled with…amazement.
Susannah blew out a breath. The first hint of rational thought came sneaking back.
What the heck happened to you?
Had she really been yelping and panting so loud that she set the dogs off?
A flush spread over her already hot and sticky face.
As if they’d been listening, the dogs let out a chorus of enthusiastic barks.
Stray shards of the things she’d said—that she’d moaned and shouted—popped into her mind. Local idioms she’d learned over the years while being instructed never to use them under any circumstances. Words that had apparently lodged in her subconscious waiting for just this moment to make their appearance.
Amado still stared at her. Barely blinking.
“Are you okay?” Her words sounded oddly clinical in the thick lush silence of the night.
“No,” he breathed. “I’m much, much, much, better than okay.” He swallowed. “You?”
The words appeared to cost him great effort. How long had they been…Susannah bit her lip. It could have been hours. The poor man was exhausted.
Or was he? She thought she detected a sudden wicked gleam in his eye.
“You are a woman of many dimensions, Susannah Clarke.”
Far more than I’d previously suspected.
Susannah wasn’t sure it was a good thing to be capable of such total sexual abandon. Seemed the kind of trait that could get you into trouble.
At least her secret would be safe with Amado. Tierra de Oro was very far from New York. And surely no one would ever get her going like that again.
Thank goodness.
Amado’s breathing slowed and steadied. His muscles relaxed and grew heavier, as he pulled her closer to him. He shifted slightly, and let out a sigh.
He’d fallen asleep—on her.
Susannah couldn’t help a burst of silent laughter, and even the vibration of her chest didn’t stir him. He looked so sweet lying there, his handsome face nestled between her breasts and his arms wrapped securely around her torso.
Apparently he was quite at home with her in his bed. And why wouldn’t he be? She had no illusions that this was a rare occasion for him. He was gorgeous and an incorrigible flirt. She really didn’t even mind.
Did she?
She swallowed.
Didn’t want to think about that.
In a day or so she’d be back in New York, updating her database and checking on the deliveries she was expecting from vineyards all around the world.
Including Amado’s. Some of his wines were daring and successful to the point where she was sure Tarrant would want them for his own cellars.
Which meant she’d still have to deal with Amado.
Or not? Amado concerned himself with the aspects of the business that interested him, the hands-on growing and fermenting. He left the marketing and shipping to his capable staff.
Most likely she’d chat on the phone with a friendly assistant who’d give her the advertising spiel on the various wines and send her samples and…
Samples.
She couldn’t leave here without the DNA sample.
Susannah swallowed hard.