Latin Lovers: Passionate Spaniards

CHAPTER TWO

ISABELLA found herself lowering her body into the sturdy wooden chair opposite Leandro with her limbs trembling—a small riot going on inside her at the fact that he had made such a disturbingly unexpected and risqué comment. Glancing into his now twinkling grey eyes and the surprising dimples either side of his sensual mouth, she remembered her sister’s comment about him …

He’s six foot one of pure trained muscle with dark hair and eyes the colour of polished slate.

Now she saw that even that description didn’t do him justice. He was absolutely right. He did look a bit like a pirate—but a modern-day, rather bohemian one than his perhaps coarser counterpart from another century. And in spite of his casual clothing and long shoulder-length hair—indicative perhaps of a somewhat bohemian sensibility—Leandro Reyes also had an air of authority about him that said you’d be wrong to assume his morals or values were equally ‘unconventional’.

Now that he’d insisted she stay and Isabella was actually going to have a conversation with him, she wished hard that she knew more about him. Her knowledge of his films or any of his other achievements was scant and that vaguely embarrassed her—even though Emilia had sprung this whole event upon her out of the blue. Isabella loved going to the movies and her leaning was definitely more towards the kind of thought-provoking films that directors like Leandro were famous for, but she’d never actually seen one of his films as far as she could recall. Like her beloved grandfather, Isabella’s first love was books and, though it might have been a disappointment to them, it had been no surprise to her family when she’d opted to train as a librarian instead of something that carried a bit more professional kudos. And now, even though Isabella aspired to be an author, they clearly viewed this pursuit as a bit of a ‘fool’s mission’ as well as being certain that she wouldn’t make any money out of it.

‘Now I have made you blush!’ Leandro teased, clearly enjoying her apparent discomfort at his playfully taunting words. ‘Have I embarrassed you, pretty Isabella?’

‘No, Señor Reyes.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, yes …a little. I think I would just prefer our talk to be concentrated on the pilgrimage, if you don’t mind.’ Wanting desperately to divert his teasing because it would be the most disturbing distraction from his storytelling, Isabella tried to assume a more comfortable position in her chair. She also didn’t want him to imagine that she was one of those easily flattered women who would welcome and even encourage his flirtatious remarks.

‘Leandro …my name is Leandro and if we are to spend the evening together talking then I must insist that you call me that and not Senor Reyes …sí?’ Before he could examine further the surprise in her distractingly alluring dark eyes, Señor Varez addressed him from the bar. He had a telephone call. Leandro didn’t doubt that it was Alphonso explaining why he had been held up. Smiling at Isabella as he rose up from the table, he found he was no longer impatient for his friend to arrive …not now that he had a more interesting diversion. When he returned from taking the call only minutes later he shrugged as he lowered his tall, muscular frame back into his chair, his movements fluid and unhurried.

‘My meeting is cancelled so now you may talk to me at your leisure, Isabella.’ He leaned forward a little, his expression becoming serious. ‘But just for the record—I would prefer it if what we discussed stayed just between us and did not get published in your sister’s magazine. You may use what I say to help you with your book, but that is all. I have to have your utmost agreement about this otherwise we cannot proceed.’

‘Of course …and thank you for agreeing to talk to me.’

To his complete surprise Leandro found that the prospect of spending the evening with this young woman was one that he definitely looked forward to, despite his cautious nature urging him to be careful of revealing too much—even inadvertently. Apart from her looks—which were a definite magnet—there was something about her that prompted in him a deep curiosity. And there was caution in her eyes too …Leandro recognised it. He wondered what or who had put it there. On the whole, she seemed a charming mixture of woman and child and he hoped he would not come to regret breaking with precedence by giving her a small window into his thoughts and beliefs about the Camino.

But apart from his undeniable fascination for his unexpected dinner companion, he was also concerned to hear from Alphonso that his wife, Perdita, had left him and that was the reason he had postponed their meeting. So many of his friends seemed to be having marital problems these days and frankly Leandro was glad not to have that particular issue dog his life. He was quite happy to be unattached and free from entanglement. Especially as the one and only time he’d fallen in love it had left him bruised and angry when his lover had betrayed him with another man, as well as fuelling his belief that once trust was broken it was almost impossible to regain it. One day he would marry—because a man should have children, as his father was always telling him—but right now Leandro’s work came first. Film-making was his total passion and every day he thanked God that he was blessed with the good fortune to be able to make it his career. But that said …neither could he resist the demands of the hot Latin blood running in his veins. And, yes, beautiful intelligent woman were a potential weakness. Especially when they were as highly attractive as the sweet, dark-eyed señorita sitting opposite him …

Isabella told herself that she should be more concerned about writing up her notes and getting some rest this evening rather than talking to this surprising and fascinating film director. But she justified her staying put in her chair by telling herself she was bound to discover a wealth of useful information about the pilgrimage and the region by listening to this man. It would be absolutely invaluable for her research.

‘So …you want to know about Santiago de Compostela?’ Leandro smiled enigmatically and Isabella’s muscles tensed in excited expectation.

‘I would love to,’ she replied softly, her eyes shining.

Time passed, and, fortified by a generous glass of the local Albarino wine and the biggest dish of shellfish Isabella had ever seen served anywhere, including the national delicacy, pulpo—Octopus—she found herself becoming thoroughly and effortlessly enchanted by the history and mythology of the area that Leandro revealed to her. He reiterated for her the popular belief that the bones of the apostle St James lay interred beneath the altar of Santiago’s great Spanish Baroque Cathedral—hence the reason for the pilgrimage—and regaled her with some haunting tales of the morriña. The morriña was noted for being a particular kind of melancholic mood that could descend on people, and the wildly powerful Atlantic storms that took place in the region were regarded to be the main cause of it. It was something that the Galicians shared with the Celtic people of Ireland.

At the end of two hours, Isabella had written nothing down but had, hopefully instead, consigned most of Leandro’s powerful stories about the Camino to memory. Meeting him had been an unexpected and exciting bonus to her trip and some part of her silently acknowledged that perhaps fate had taken a hand and steered her towards this man for a very good reason. She wouldn’t be the first person to experience miracles on this pilgrimage—not by a long shot. Not once had Leandro spoken about himself, his family or his illustrious career and even though she realised he was actively guarding his privacy, Isabella was impressed that he apparently had no need to exercise his ego in that regard by heralding his triumphs. She could have listened to him for ever …His voice was like a warm, protective blanket tucked round her on a cold stormy night and was as compelling as his seriously haunting good looks and the deliciously long, slow glances he gave her that aroused and heated her blood with undeniable force. Isabella was more intoxicated by him than if she’d drunk a whole bottle of Albarino wine by herself. His exceedingly relaxed delivery of his stories was also deceptive because the passion in his voice was unmistakable. It suggested the kind of passion that a woman secretly craved and despaired of ever finding. A passion that spoke of excitement, discovery and, yes, danger too …and would undoubtedly be as strongly addictive as the most powerful opiate.

Just sitting listening to Leandro had made Isabella think about the polar opposite of feeling she had experienced with her ex-fiancé, Patrick. That was why—even though he’d let her down badly by commenting on the most intimate aspects of their relationship with a friend in a rather ribald manner that Isabella had unfortunately overheard—ultimately she’d known they had no future together. It was why, only two days before the wedding, she had finally decided against tying herself to such a disloyal man and realised she’d rather remain single for the rest of her life than risk a marriage that would leach all the joy out of her over time.

There was a sudden crash from outside as a powerful gust of wind upended a metal chair onto its side. The spell Leandro had woven around Isabella with his storytelling was abruptly broken by the harsh grating sound. As the forceful breeze roared louder and heavy rain started to pelt the cobbled streets like a downpour of small stones Isabella reluctantly reflected that she really ought to be getting back to her hotel. She was quite used to the frequent bouts of rain by now and getting drenched was not her biggest concern. At any rate she’d soon dry off when she got back to her room. Touching her napkin to her lips, she dropped it back onto her plate and reached for the canvas shoulder-bag she’d left on the floor beside her chair, willing time to stand still so that she could stay right where she was for ever and listen to Leandro relate more of his entrancing stories.

Glancing anxiously at the windows as Señor Varez hurried round closing the shutters against the noisy howl of the wind, Isabella bit down on her lip—a desperate hollow ache inside her at the thought that when she walked out of the door in a couple of minutes’ time she would never see Leandro Reyes again.

Trying to hide her regret, she offered him a brief but grateful smile. ‘I don’t know how to begin to thank you for giving me such a valuable opportunity to talk to you, Señor Reyes—’

‘Leandro,’ her companion insisted with unapologetic authority, his piercing grey-eyed gaze at that moment shredding her composure to bits as he concentrated it very intently on her. ‘You are not leaving already? Apart from the fact that it is pouring with rain, you have barely told me anything about yourself! And I still do not know why you are walking the Camino …It is not just because of your book I am sure.’

He had known for a good hour or more that he did not want her to leave. He realised that he had commandeered most of the dialogue between them and now wanted to allow her to make up for the deficit, as well as powerfully desiring to extend the time they spent together. She was an unusual woman and Leandro felt his interest in her growing. Not once had she flirted with him or cast her eyes at him in a seductive manner, as most women given the opportunity to be alone with him would have. Especially knowing who he was.

To be honest, Isabella’s lack of feminine response to him as a man had seriously started to perturb Leandro, because he was definitely experiencing some very powerful male stirrings as he continued to rest his gaze on her. At one point she had put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands as she’d listened enthralled to a story he’d told about a vision of an angel a friend of his had had whilst undertaking the pilgrimage, and her bewitching gaze had been so focused and enraptured that Leandro had almost lost the thread of his story. Privately he’d begun to examine the beguiling contours of her lovely face with increasing delight.

The wine he had imbibed had undoubtedly helped mellow his mood, but he had already decided before he’d even drunk half a glass that he would not continue on his way to his house in Pontevedra tonight. No, he would stay in Vigo and make his way home tomorrow morning instead. His plan was to take a couple of days out to read manuscripts and catch up with paperwork before travelling back to Madrid to embark on his next project.

The look Isabella gave him in return for his comment definitely seemed to demonstrate her surprise that he would want to have her talk about herself.

‘I’m not bothered about the rain …I’ve got used to it. It’s kind of you to be interested in my book, but, to tell you the truth, I’ve had a long day’s walking,’ she replied apologetically, ‘and I was intending on making an early start in the morning. But thank you again for everything …for the food and wine and wonderful stories about the Camino.’

To his amusement and surprise she offered Leandro her hand. He glanced at it for only a moment before raising it to his lips and softly kissing the exquisitely satin skin that smelt so alluringly of jasmine. The hard muscled wall of his stomach tightened like an iron band encircling him as desire flared with the force of an incendiary and the heat it generated in him almost made him vocalise his pleasure out loud.

‘As unexpected as it was, you have accorded me much pleasure with your company tonight, Isabella …truly. But perhaps we can rectify the fact that I have learned so little about you, hmm? I have decided not to make my onward journey home to Pontevedra tonight after all. There is already a storm outside and it will only get worse, I am sure—not the best conditions for driving in. I was going to suggest we go somewhere else for the night and continue our conversation there? A friend of mine has a place not far from here. I can make a phone call and get a car to pick us up. We can be there in no time.’

He was—according to Emilia—one of the most famous film directors in all of Spain and he was suggesting that Isabella go with him to a place owned by a friend of his and spend the night there? As she considered the hand he had just kissed with its still-electrifying impression of the warmth of his lips and the brush of his beard her mind seemed incapable of forming a reply.

‘Isabella?’

In the absence of an answer, Leandro frowned, his high cheekbones and fascinating eyes leaving an indelible imprint on Isabella that she wouldn’t relinquish in a lifetime.

‘Yes?’

‘I want you to spend the night with me …you understand?’

He could ask the question in a dozen different languages and, from the almost fierce, hot look in his electrifying gaze, Isabella could not fail to comprehend his meaning. The question was …what should she do about it? In some secret hopeful, delighted place inside of her the decision was already made. Yet still Isabella fought against the powerful heated undertow, terrified of being overwhelmed by it—of being too reckless and living to regret it …Not because she didn’t desire Leandro—but because she desired him almost too much.

‘I understand perfectly. But I’m afraid that can’t be, Leandro.’ She dipped her head, feeling her face flame red beneath his mocking examination. Surely her lack of sophistication would only amuse him? ‘I’m here to walk the Camino. That really has to be my focus.’

At her unexpected, soft-voiced repudiation of his suggestion Leandro wanted Isabella even more. The wanting was akin to the slow, heavy heat that made a person tense and expectant for that heart-jolting crash of thunder just before a storm. In the end you longed for the release. That longing dictated that he couldn’t let her go—that any move she made to put any kind of distance between them would have to be diverted because now he was determined to have her at all costs. His friend Benito’s hotel was just a few kilometres away. The man was one of Leandro’s oldest friends and implicitly understood his need for privacy. There would be no danger of the paparazzi getting wind that he was staying there. Leandro would have all night to seduce Isabella and enjoy her company. Now the idea had entered his head, it quickly became a fixation. ‘I want you to come with me. Now that it comes down to it, I find I cannot let you go.’

As seductive and flattering as his declaration was, Isabella knew she could not simply succumb to his request because he had expressed it so forcefully. Did she really want to risk having her heart broken by this man? Because right now, from where she was standing, that was a distinct possibility. She’d never met a man who was so hard to resist and frankly it scared the daylights out of her. Especially so since she was still feeling vulnerable over the mistake she’d made over Patrick.

‘I really can’t stay, Leandro.’ Isabella’s throat tightened unbearably. ‘I need to get back to my hotel before—’

‘I do not accept that you cannot stay!’

He crushed her mouth beneath his own, in that blind, heated moment of desire, not caring that he might bruise her too tender lips or scratch her delicate skin with his beard-roughened jaw. All Leandro knew was that the need to touch her was a compulsion he could not resist …The need to feel her soft, womanly body in his arms and breathe in all the utterly feminine scents that threatened to make him slowly lose his mind was the one driving imperative that he could not ignore. Isabella had been driving him slowly crazy with want, all evening. When he finally and abruptly released her, her dark eyes were as large and as liquid as a startled doe’s and several strands of ebony silk had escaped in a riot of soft tendrils from her pony-tail.

Catching her hand, Leandro calculatingly employed his most devastating smile.

‘It is just one night. Isabella …one night. We can sleep together in a comfortable bed and really get to know each other. Tomorrow night you will be in a different place again, in a different bed—perhaps in one of the refugios where there is scant comfort—and you will think of me and perhaps wonder what it might have been like between us had you agreed to come with me tonight. Life is too short for regrets—do you not agree?’

Isabella’s heart nearly stopped beating at the look that came her way from his seductive grey eyes. Her feet still hadn’t touched the ground since his almost savagely passionate kiss and the pure devastation it had wrought inside her. No man had ever kissed her with such barely controlled desire …And suddenly Isabella knew that she didn’t want Leandro Reyes to be her one big regret. She wanted to look back in years to come and think how fortunate she was that fate had decreed that their paths should cross. She might never experience such burning passion with anyone ever again after this and the irresistible connection she had with Leandro would have to sustain her for the rest of her life if that turned out to be the case …Slipping the strap of her canvas bag awkwardly over her shoulder, she acknowledged his too seductive remark with a hot flurry of excitement and trepidation inside her breast. Her legs were shaking as she spoke.

‘I agree that life is too short for regrets. But I want you to know that if I go with you, this isn’t the kind of thing I make a habit of doing.’

‘Of course.’ His eyes danced with disturbing amusement. ‘Let me call my friend and arrange for a car to pick us up, then I will pay Señor Varez for our meal and we will go.’

Leandro had left her alone to settle into their room. He was downstairs talking to his friend Benito, who had welcomed Isabella with indisputable warmth yet had still maintained a respectful distance. She had quaked inside when she’d seen where Leandro had brought her. Looming out of the rainy night, the hotel resembled an imposing fortress belonging to the Conquistadors. Now, trying to absorb every feature and facet of the seriously opulent room they’d been given, Isabella glanced down at her rain-splattered shirt and jeans and knew she probably looked a million miles away from the kind of prosperous and well-heeled guests that must stay here.

But, shoring up her sudden anxiety about her appearance, she reminded herself that Leandro obviously felt right at home in his own similar clothing and did not give the slightest indication that he was concerned he might be underdressed. Isabella released her breath on a long, low whistle. By all rights she should be dropping with tiredness after her day’s hike, but instead she seemed to be infused with a thrumming restless energy that didn’t show any sign of dissipating. As she had mounted the wide curved staircase that led to their room, in the wake of a smiling chambermaid, her legs had been distinctly shaky. The prospect of sleeping with Leandro was dominating all her senses and part of her felt like running away because the reality of that event seemed just too overwhelming to be borne.