Sabrina had heard of being stripped naked by a man’s eyes, but her husband was way ahead.

He was shamelessly making love to her with that slumberous dark gaze of his, heating her blood with a potent mixture of fire and pure masculine chemistry, making her skin prickle with the sensation of being physically touched in the most intimately erotic way. Inside her robe her nipples peaked, the intense aching throb bordering on pain. Moisture spread between the juncture of her thighs as her knees started to shake.

“You should go.” Finding her voice, she silently acknowledged it had no real conviction. How could it when she craved him like parched land needed rain?

“We never kissed when we exchanged vows.”

The heat they were engendering between them turned up the temperature in the room another notch.

“I would very much like to remedy that, Sabrina.”

MILLS & BOON

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For several years Maggie Cox was a reluctant secretary who dreamed of becoming a published author. She can’t remember a time when she didn’t have her head in a book or wasn’t busy filling exercise books with stories. When she was ten years old, her favorite English teacher told her, “If you don’t become a writer I’ll eat my hat!” But it was only after marrying the love of her life that she finally became convinced she might be able to achieve her dream. Now a self-confessed champion of dreamers everywhere, she urges everyone with a dream to go for it and never give up. Also a busy full-time mom, who tries constantly not to be so busy, in what she laughingly calls her spare time she loves to watch good drama or romantic movies, and eat chocolate!

Maggie Cox
A CONVENIENT MARRIAGE

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

To Ruth and Graham—I feel so blessed to

know you both—and Jean, who loved to

read romance. I miss you still

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

‘FAT lot of good you did me!’ Disparagingly, Sabrina Kendricks glared at herself in the tailored burgundy suit she’d splashed a couple of hundred pounds she couldn’t afford on, and knew she’d have to be clean out of every piece of clothing she possessed before she could bring herself to ever wear it again. Dressing to impress had sadly failed to have the desired effect on Richard Weedy—the pompous, halitosis-afflicted excuse for a bank manager whom she had met less than an hour ago. Weedy of stature and weedy by nature as far as Sabrina’s assessment was concerned. Spineless, in fact.

‘You’re not a good risk, Miss Kendricks,’ he’d whined. Not a good risk? She’d run East-West Travel for fifteen years now, so what was he talking about? What did he want—a cast-iron guarantee? Business was all about taking risks, surely? Good job she didn’t have a cat because right now she’d kick it.

Instead, she padded into the kitchen in her stockinged feet and peered hopefully into what she already knew was an empty fridge. Empty because she hadn’t had time to shop, and because food seemed to be low down on her list of priorities when she was in dire need of some proper investment to bring her small company in line with twenty-first-century technology. The mere thought of the task that lay ahead haunted her into the early hours. She wasn’t going to let the business she’d worked so hard to establish get swallowed up by the big boys who were currently monopolising the travel industry.

Thinking back on her recent interview, she wondered if she’d come across as too hopeful or just simply desperate? She made a face at the bereft shelves, slammed the door shut and went across to the sink to pour herself a glass of water instead. She thought she’d pitched it just right, but maybe her smile had been too forced? Maybe the way she’d pinned back her hair had been too severe? Maybe Moroccan-red lipstick had come across as somehow intimidating? And maybe Richard Weedy just had a thing about pushy career-woman types, as her mother referred to women who didn’t permanently wander round the house with a pinny on and a duster in their hands.

Thinking about her mother gave Sabrina indigestion and made her realise that not a morsel of food had passed her lips since six-thirty yesterday evening. It was now just after eleven-thirty in the morning and she was beginning to feel quite nauseous. Maybe it was time to change her bank? Could she do that? One thing was certain, no pinch-faced, patronising, woman-resenting bank manager was going to stop her from making East-West Travel the unalloyed success she knew it could be. She’d sell every pair of shoes she owned and go barefoot before she let that happen.

‘Don’t go, Uncle Javier! Please don’t go!’ The slender eleven-year-old with the liquid brown eyes and plaited black hair held on tight to her tall, broad-shouldered uncle, her tenacious grip surprisingly powerful for a child so slight, the plea in her voice and the pain in her expression cutting Javier’s heart in two. Above the child’s head, his own dark gaze sought out her father, and, looking back at him, Michael Calder’s face was nothing less than haunted.

‘Hush, Angelina, hush, my angel,’ Javier crooned against his niece’s hair. ‘I was only going to make a phone call to cancel my meeting. I will stay with you as long as you want me to, if that is all right with your father?’

Michael’s silent nod was curt but hugely relieved. Both father and daughter were facing a situation that was possibly going to tear the little family apart, and Javier shared doubly in their turmoil because Angelina’s mother had been his beloved sister Dorothea, who’d died eight years ago when Angelina was only three. Now the child was facing the possible death of her father. How cruel was that? Just yesterday Michael Calder had been diagnosed with a particularly devastating form of cancer and his prognosis was not good. Tomorrow he would go into hospital for some radical treatment and only God knew how long he would be staying in…maybe he would never come out again. Javier bit back the black thought and concentrated on the weeping child instead. Around her, his embrace tightened. Michael should not have to bear this burden alone. Javier vowed he would do everything in his power to ease their suffering. He would try and bring some stability to Angelina’s young life when all around her were shifting sands, as well as being a good friend and support to her father. But first he had to find a way of staying in the UK permanently because as an Argentine national he would need permission to reside.

‘I’ll get Rosie to make you up a bed.’ Unable to bear the sight of his daughter’s distress any longer, Michael went in search of their friendly Welsh nanny, clearly thankful for the distraction.

‘Let us go and find a video to watch together, hmm?’ Holding his niece slightly apart so that he could furnish her with a smile, Javier wiped her tears away then took her gently by the hand into the family’s sumptuously furnished living-room.

He woke up to rain. It was pelting his bedroom window with a vengeance, like a hundred small boys firing missiles from catapults. But it wasn’t the sight of grey skies and rain that made Javier’s heart feel heavy. Angelina had cried herself to sleep. At eleven years of age, she already knew what losing a parent meant. Her uncle had stayed with her long into the night just listening to her breathing, praying with everything he had in him for God to send her peaceful dreams—dreams that weren’t possessed with darkly terrifying images of grief and loss. He had left Michael in the living-room nursing a thick glass of single malt whisky—too mentally shattered himself to suggest his brother-in-law should lay off the drink, considering the circumstances. They couldn’t go on like this. Something was going to break if they didn’t find a solution soon…

The smooth tanned lines on his forehead puckering into a scowl, Javier got swiftly out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Once he’d showered and dressed, he would have a cup of Rosie’s exquisitely made coffee, then go and rouse Michael with a cup. The man would have one hell of a hangover, that was certain, but then wasn’t he entitled? How would he feel if he were facing such a bleak future? Scowling again as the family’s problems seemed to mount in his head, Javier turned the shower dial to hot then quickly stripped off his clothes.

‘OK, so he turned you down, it’s not the end of the world.’

Only her sister could come out with such a throwaway remark in the midst of her sibling’s disappointment and worry, Sabrina reflected in exasperation as she got down on her knees to play ‘peek-a-boo’ with the baby. Sometimes she wondered if motherhood had somehow blunted Ellie’s perception of how it really was out there in the working world. Once a high-flyer herself, now mother to three lively children under the age of five, Ellie seemed to wrap every problem in a soft-focus cloud of pink, and her adoring husband Phil did nothing to disillusion her.

‘Maybe not to you.’ Sabrina tickled baby Tallulah under the chin then reached for a baby-wipe to clean the drool off her fingers. ‘But it’s my livelihood we’re talking about here. If I don’t get the investment I need then I’m never going to be able to bring the business up-to-date. It will just be a matter of time before we have to fold. And what about Jill and Robbie? They’ll be unemployed. Great thanks that would be after all their years of service!’

Ellie stopped her ritual picking up after the two toddlers to shake her head at Sabrina.

‘I can’t see the fascination myself. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, Sabrina. Haven’t you had enough of the treadmill after fifteen years? You’re what now, thirty-seven? Soon you’ll be too old to have children, then what? Cold comfort your business is going to be when you have nothing but an empty flat to come home to.’

‘You’re beginning to sound just like Mum.’ Picking up Tallulah, Sabrina nuzzled her affectionately behind her ear, the scent of talcum powder and six-month-old baby giving her heart an unexpected squeeze.

‘She only wants you to be happy.’

‘I am happy, for God’s sake! Why is it both of you can’t see that I’m doing what I want to do? I’m not like you two; I’m just not the maternal type.’

‘No?’ Grinning widely, Ellie absorbed the picture of her pretty older sister cuddling baby Tallulah to her supple, willowy frame as if she’d been born to the task.

‘Anyway,’ Sabrina retorted defiantly, ‘I haven’t the hips for it.’

‘Oh, no? I’ve seen the looks you get from men when you walk down the street, and believe me—you go in and out in all the right places. What I can’t quite believe is that you haven’t had a date for at least a year now, maybe more. Are all the men you come into contact with blind, as well as dead from the waist down?’

‘I don’t have time to date. The business takes up practically every waking hour.’

‘Now, that’s a sad indictment of a young woman’s life.’ Wagging her finger, Ellie scooped up a handful of soft toys that littered the carpet and dropped them into the baby’s playpen. ‘Forget the business for a while. Get yourself a date and go out and have some fun. That’s my answer to your present dilemma.’

‘Is that the time?’ Grimacing at her wrist-watch, Sabrina got hastily to her feet, plonked the baby back into her mother’s arms, paused to kiss each of the toddlers sitting in front of the TV, and headed for the front door. ‘I’ll ring you later. Sorry I’ve got to dash but I must get back to relieve Jill for lunch. The woman’s been in since eight and hasn’t had a bite yet.’

‘Well, I’m giving you my advice whether you want it or not!’ Ellie called after her as she hurried towards the compact gun-metal-grey car parked in the drive.

‘Find yourself a date and soon!’

With her sister’s undoubtedly well-meant advice ringing in her ears, Sabrina reversed out of the drive into a wide avenue and headed towards town. ‘Get myself a date,’ she muttered irritably as she fiddled with the radio dial. ‘Like I don’t have enough problems already without adding a man to the mix!’

Wrestling with her umbrella as well as her now soggy packet of sandwiches and her shoulder bag, Sabrina didn’t see the man standing in front of East-West Travel’s shopfront peering in until she was almost on top of him. As a strong arm reached out to steady her, she was engulfed in the lingering fragrance of expensive male cologne and a surprising heat that seemed to tinglingly transmit itself right through her body from the brief but firm exchange of contact.

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there—I don’t normally try to mow people down with my umbrella.’ When she’d folded it, transferred her damp packet of sandwiches to her shoulder bag and brushed her brown hair from her eyes, Sabrina gave the man her full attention. Something inside did a funny little flip when she did. He was gorgeous. That was the only adjective that came to mind. Tall and Latin-looking with jet-black hair and eyes to match. Eyes that were so dark they glimmered back at her like perfect onyx jewels. When he didn’t reply she felt suddenly foolish—foolish and unprepared…but unprepared for what? To cover her embarrassment she gushed, ‘If you’re looking for somewhere warm at this time of year, Tenerife is always a good bet. I can put you in touch with some wonderful little family-run hotels, or if you wanted something a little more upmarket I could personally recommend some stunning places.’

When he still didn’t reply, Sabrina had a couple of bad moments of sheer panic. Perhaps he didn’t speak English? Perhaps he was looking at her wondering what this mad woman with the dripping hair and soggy sandwiches was blathering on about?

‘Oh, well.’ Thinking she’d better make a hasty retreat before she made a complete twit of herself, she shrugged good-naturedly, delivered one of her sunniest smiles and pushed at the shop door to go inside.

‘Wait.’

Funny how one softly enunciated little word could convey such innate command. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I would very much like to come inside and discuss a vacation with you.’

‘Well, great. Why don’t you follow me inside out of this rain?’

Jill had her coat on and her umbrella at the ready behind her desk. The blonde’s keen gaze positively lightened when she saw the dazzling specimen of manhood who walked in behind her boss. ‘Hi. It’s all been very quiet since you’ve been gone. I sent Rob out to lunch fifteen minutes ago—was that OK?’

‘Sure, Jill. You go out and get something yourself now. I’ll be fine here.’

‘OK. You be good, now.’ With a brief conspiratorial wink, the blonde swept past them both and the doorbell jangled behind her.

‘Take a seat. I’ll just get rid of my coat.’ Silently appreciative of the fug of warmth that enveloped her after the cold outside, Sabrina smiled again at the man as she made to dash into the little office at the end of the room. Javier hesitated, his astute business sense automatically kicking in as he scanned the small but neatly presented room with its three old-fashioned desks planted side by side, with an equally old-fashioned computer terminal positioned on top of each one. What was that word the English liked to use when describing something traditional rather than modern? ‘Quaint’, he thought it was. Yes, quaint. He smiled back at the woman who’d careened into him with her umbrella and registered that her eyes were startlingly blue and guileless…almost untainted by life.

‘You must eat your lunch as we talk,’ he instructed, and the guileless blue eyes shone back at him in surprise.

Sabrina could hardly believe a stranger was capable of such consideration. A little burst of warmth spread inside her. ‘I’ll make some coffee,’ she replied. ‘Would you like some?’

‘Black—no sugar. Thank you.’ Javier positioned his tall frame in a padded chair nearest to the office. Silently he watched her through the open door, marking her hurried movements. He saw her remove her coat and hang it on an old wooden coat-tree, saw her hand pat the back of her golden-brown hair encased in its slightly awry knot and registered that she was very pleasingly built beneath the rather plain blue suit and white blouse. Even several feet away from her, her light floral perfume lingered, insinuating its way past his defences and making him feel surprisingly at ease. Astounding when his heart and head were in such turmoil over Angelina and her father. Michael had insisted the child attend school today and at three-thirty Rosie would pick her up and take her to a friend’s for tea. ‘Best keep everything as normal as possible,’ Michael had instructed him. Javier intended to be back at the house to greet her when she came back from her friend’s—by which time he would surely have had news of the outcome of his brother-in-law’s treatment?

‘There you are.’ Registering the slight rattle of the cup in the saucer as she placed the coffee carefully down in front of him, Sabrina noted there were no rings on his fingers and his hands were very slender and very brown. And that accent of his—she couldn’t quite place it; South American perhaps, but which country?

Sliding behind her desk, she drew her own mug of steaming coffee towards her. Self-consciously unwrapping her sandwiches, she gathered up the cling film into a little ball and jettisoned it into a nearby bin.

‘I hope you don’t mind?’ she checked again before taking a ladylike bite of her chicken sandwich. ‘I didn’t actually have any breakfast and to tell you the truth I’m starving!’

‘Go ahead. One cannot properly conduct business on an empty stomach.’ His lips parted in a brief smile. His teeth were very white against his tan, and movie-star perfect. For the first time she noticed he had a dimple in his chin…a very sexy little dimple. Somehow her morsel of food had trouble getting past her throat.

‘So…any ideas where you’d like to go?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘On holiday? I presume you’re thinking of taking a break somewhere?’

Javier shrugged his broad shoulders and wondered what the perfectly English Miss—he squinted at the name on the small gold badge on her lapel—Sabrina Kendricks would think if she knew he had travelled the globe more times than she’d find it easy to believe. As a man who’d built up a successful one-stop travel business on the internet, he spent a large majority of his life travelling. No, he didn’t need a holiday. What he needed right now was a little more complicated than that…

‘Are you usually this quiet?’ Ignoring her question, Javier posed another one. As he did so he glanced curiously around him, noting the colourful posters of varying exotic locations on the walls behind her, the two tall potted plants that resembled miniature palm trees by the door, the once rich maroon carpet beneath his feet that was more than just a little faded. The whole business had an air of regal deterioration about it. Rubbing his hand round the back of his neck, Javier sighed. Her computer system looked badly out of date, too. How on earth were they making a living?

Sabrina took a hasty sip of coffee, nearly scalding her mouth in the process. ‘It’s raining,’ she explained as if he should understand the unspoken meaning without her elucidating further.

‘That puts people off?’ His lips quirked wryly. The woman was blushing and it intrigued him as to why.

‘It’s a slow time of the year.’ Shrugging, she glanced quickly away from his too knowing black eyes.

‘I should have thought many people would be booking vacations leading up to Christmas. The prospect of getting away after such a hectic time would appeal to most, no?’

He said it as if he knew what he was talking about and Sabrina felt herself grow prickly and defensive. She could hardly tell him that the bigger travel chains that dominated most high streets nowadays naturally took most of the business. But then they couldn’t offer the very personal, specialist, highly skilled service that Sabrina and her colleagues had perfected over fifteen years, could they? The chains didn’t have time to devote to planning sometimes elaborate itineraries for their wealthier, more established clients—not when they wanted to shift as many cheap package holidays as possible. If Sabrina wanted to compete, it looked as if she would have to go that way too.

‘It’s not always as quiet as this.’

‘I have offended you.’ Javier heard the slight quiver in her voice with genuine remorse, saw the wave of pink that shaded her cheeks.

‘No.’ Putting down her half-eaten sandwich, Sabrina patted her lips with her paper napkin. For some reason a picture of the loathsome Richard Weedy floated into her mind and she heard him say again that she wasn’t a good risk so he wouldn’t be recommending the loan. She’d walked out of the bank feeling as if she’d gone to him with a begging bowl. Ugh!

‘I’m just not having a very good day. Nothing to do with anyone else but my own sorry inability to rise above my disappointment.’

Inexplicably, Javier’s gaze went to her fingers. Her hands were pretty and small but minus a ring of any description. ‘Someone hurt your feelings…a man, perhaps?’

It took only a couple of seconds for his comment to click. ‘Not in any romantic sense, no.’ She was smiling now, her blue eyes shining with humour, and Javier realised that, with her high cheekbones and generous mouth, she was really quite exquisite. She’d be even more exquisite if she let that hair of hers down… Now, where had that thought come from?

‘Anyway. Back to business. If you don’t want a holiday, Mr—er—?’

‘D’Alessandro—Javier D’Alessandro.’

He said it so beautifully that Sabrina was instantly transported to another time and place; somewhere very different from chilly, dreary London, somewhere with a landscape of burnt sienna and hot sun, a place where conquistadores ruled the land, conjuring up pictures of glamour and adventure. A place where her current concerns and worries disappeared like magic beneath the hypnotic gaze of a dark-skinned, dark-eyed lover…

‘If you don’t want a holiday, Mr D’Alessandro, then what can I do for you?’ Unconsciously her tongue wetted the seam of her lips. Javier’s eyes seemed to grow darker still as he registered the fact.

‘I’d like to take you to dinner.’ How long had that little thought been going round in his head? Javier wiped his palms down the thighs of his expensive Savile Row suit. He concentrated for a few seconds on her name badge. ‘Can I call you in a few days, Sabrina? Right now I have some important business to take care of.’

‘Dinner?’ For a crazy moment she wondered if she’d heard him right. Good-looking strangers didn’t usually just walk in off the street and ask her for a date. Her shoulders stiffened slightly with suspicion.

‘Yes, dinner. What do you think?’

‘Not a good idea.’ Picking up her pen, she scanned the loose papers on her desk for something that needed her attention—anything that would distract her from the quiet scrutiny of those disturbing dark eyes. ‘I don’t date people I don’t know, Mr D’Alessandro.’

‘Ahh.’ His smile was fleeting yet uncomfortably knowing. ‘You’re not a risk-taker, then, Sabrina?’

She thought about the business; about the fact that her bank manager thought she wasn’t a good risk. Now this handsome stranger in front of her seemed to be implying she was lacking in courage too. It was suddenly all too much. ‘All right, Mr D’Alessandro, I will accept your invitation to dinner…whenever that may be. Thank you.’ She scribbled something indecipherable on a piece of paper and hoped he didn’t notice that her hand was trembling slightly. ‘Get yourself a date!’ Ellie had called out to her only a short while ago. Well, it looked as if she’d got herself one…whether she’d planned for it or not.

CHAPTER TWO

HE DIDN’T call and she shouldn’t have been either surprised or disappointed but perversely Sabrina was both. Ever since she’d set eyes on the handsome and intriguing Javier D’Alessandro, she’d been oddly unsettled and discontented. Which wasn’t like her at all. Sighing heavily, she gave her make-up one final check in the bathroom mirror, flicked off the light and returned to the living-room to collect her suit jacket and raincoat. The force of the rain outside was rattling the window-panes and a helpless wave of despondency washed over her. Yesterday, she, Robbie and Jill had been practically fighting over customers, they were so few. The day had dragged endlessly on, and when six o’clock came Sabrina had actually been glad to put on her coat and head for home. In fifteen years of running East-West Travel she had rarely been so eager to leave the office. Maybe Ellie was right? Maybe she should call it a day as far as the business was concerned. Concentrate on other things instead. Like finding a potential ‘Mr Right’ and perhaps having a child of her own before it really was too late. She really loved her sister’s kids and she probably wouldn’t make the worst job of raising her own. Would she?

‘Sabrina Kendricks, where is your head?’ Amazed at the winding and not entirely welcome path her thoughts had taken her down, she donned her jacket and coat, retrieved her prized umbrella that she’d bought from an exclusive Knightsbridge store in the sales, then slammed the flat door behind her with enough force to rattle every window in the whole house.

‘Call for you, Sabrina! And I’ve left your coffee on the side; don’t let it go cold, will you?’

Waving the receiver at her, Jill waited patiently as Sabrina made her way into the cramped little room that served as general ‘all-purpose’ filing cabinet and was also a repository for foreign exchange, petty cash and stationery. They also kept a small fridge for milk and juice, and the most essential item of all—the kettle.

‘Thanks, Jill.’ Not many people called her on what she thought of as her private line. Just a handful of people had the number, namely her parents and Ellie and an old schoolfriend who she kept in touch with from time to time.

Spying her coffee, she lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip before speaking. ‘Sabrina Kendricks.’

‘Miss Kendricks, this is Javier D’Alessandro.’

She couldn’t prevent the breathy little gasp that came out of her mouth. She’d forgotten that she’d given him this number as well as her home one. Carefully, she placed the mug back on the cluttered pine shelf that was crammed with box files, fearful she would spill it because her hand was shaking.

‘Mr D’Alessandro…what can I do for you?’

‘A short break in Tenerife perhaps? Los Christianos maybe. In one of your charming little hotels that guarantee rest and relaxation and salve to the spirit…’

Oh, my. He could read the Oxford English Dictionary out loud and it would sound sexy.

‘Really? So you changed your mind about a holiday, then?’ Perversely, Sabrina didn’t want to talk to him about holidays. She chewed at her fingernail, grimacing at the flaked pearl nail-polish that she’d been too tired to replace last night; another uncharacteristic decision.

‘I make a jest with you, Miss Kendricks…Sabrina. I don’t want a holiday. I asked you out to dinner, remember?’

‘Three weeks ago,’ she blurted unthinkingly, then cursed herself for perhaps revealing too much. Now he would think she’d been counting the days.

‘I am sorry it has been so long. There were things—family concerns—that I needed to take care of.’

‘I understand.’ Was he married? Going through a divorce? Did he have kids? A thousand questions backed up in her brain—after all, she knew nothing about this man except that he was too gorgeous for words with black eyes that made her think of things she hadn’t considered in a very long time. And young. Don’t forget that, Sabrina. He probably wasn’t even thirty, and here she was, fast approaching thirty-eight. The whole thing was ridiculous. Best keep her mind on work and not let herself be so foolishly disappointed.

‘Would this evening be too short notice?’ Javier was suggesting. ‘If you give me your address I could pick you up at, say, eight o’clock if that is convenient?’

Sabrina swallowed hard. ‘Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a good idea for us to meet, Mr D’Alessandro; I—’

‘Javier. Please call me Javier.’

‘All right…Javier, I don’t want you to feel obliged to ask me to dinner just because it seemed like a good idea three weeks ago. I understand how things can change.’

‘Then you are a very tolerant woman, Sabrina, but I seriously would like to take you out to dinner and I do not understand this “feeling obliged” you talk about. My only motivation is to see you again. I sense that we may have more in common than you think.’

She heard the faint thread of humour in his voice and let out a long, slow breath. ‘All right, then. You’ve talked me into it.’ As if I needed to be persuaded. Sabrina allowed herself a grin and told him she would prefer to meet him outside the designated restaurant. Once she got the details, he bid her a slightly formal goodbye and told her he was looking forward to their meeting. As Sabrina replaced the receiver on its rest, she went mentally through the contents of her wardrobe and—apart from that disastrous burgundy suit—tried to remember the last time she had bought herself something really nice to wear. The sort of ‘something’ that would be suitable to wear to a very elegant restaurant in Knightsbridge with a man who would make Hollywood stars look plain.

‘I wish you weren’t going out tonight, Uncle Javier. I wish you were staying in with me and Rosie.’ Angelina glanced up from the television screen as her uncle came into the room, her dark eyes noting how handsome he looked in his suit and tie, his black hair gleaming beneath the soft lamps that lit the room. The slender blonde in her faded jeans and pink sweatshirt, sitting on the luxuriously thick rug beside the child, also marked his entrance with appreciative china-blue eyes.

‘Your uncle deserves a night out, Angelina,’ she said softly. ‘He’s stayed in with us every night since your father went into hospital. If you’re good you can stay up half an hour longer and watch the end of the film with me.’

‘Thanks, Rosie.’ Javier flashed her one of his most dazzling smiles and Rosie couldn’t help wishing that she was the lady he was taking out tonight. She’d gleaned that his dinner date was a woman named Sabrina because she’d heard him explaining to Angelina. Lucky Sabrina.

‘I won’t be late. I’ll look in on the little one here before I go to bed. If you hear anything from the hospital…anything at all, you’ve got my cellphone number, haven’t you? I’ll keep it with me.’

‘Of course.’

‘Now, you be a good girl for Rosie, mi angel. Tomorrow after school I will take you to the movies to see that film you have been longing to see. We will eat popcorn and ice cream and forget about everything else but having a good time. Sí?’

‘Yes, Uncle.’ Angelina angled her cheek affectionately for his kiss and at the last minute flung her strong little arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. Javier’s heart went ‘bump’, as it was apt to do every time his beloved niece demonstrated her love for him.

‘Sleep well.’

‘Tell Sabrina I said hello,’ Angelina quipped as he reached the door. Javier smiled.

‘I will be sure to tell her,’ he promised and left the two females to their television programme, feeling just a little more at ease than he had for the past few nights.

‘So you started up the business fifteen years ago?’ Javier concentrated his full attention on his dinner companion. How could he not when she was looking animated and beautiful in her scoop-necked scarlet blouse and slim-fitting black trousers, her gorgeous golden-brown hair rippling unhindered to her waist, every bit as lovely as he’d imagined it would be?

‘I know, fifteen years…makes me sound as old as Methuselah.’

‘But you don’t look as old as Methuselah,’ Javier charmingly assured her. Was she sensitive about her age—this woman with her smile as bright as sunlight and eyes the same stunning blue as a summer sky? She could be no more than thirty-four or thirty-five, surely, and even if she was, what did he care? A woman with a past was always far more interesting, he found, than some inexperienced twenty-year-old who didn’t know her own mind.

‘I feel it sometimes.’ A cloud seemed to slide across the dazzling blue irises. Pouring some more wine into her glass, Javier frowned. ‘Something is troubling you. Want to talk about it?’

Sabrina hesitated. Should she burden this charming, good-looking man with her problems at work? The trouble was, he was so easy to talk to. Already she felt as if she’d known him much longer than the two occasions they’d met. After a generous sip of wine to fortify her blood, she decided to go with her instincts. ‘I promise not to let my troubles dominate the evening.’ She smiled and Javier leant forward, intrigued, his own profound concerns about his family momentarily suspended.

‘My problem is that the business needs to expand, come fully into the twenty-first century, and I can’t raise the capital to do it. We’re even losing some of our oldest customers because they’ve been lured by the tempting promises of all kinds of incentives by the chains, incentives we can’t possibly match. Our equipment is outdated and old-fashioned and the day we met I’d just been turned down by the bank for a loan. At this point I’ve got two very loyal staff members who’ve been with me practically since I started and I feel so bad that, unless I can raise some money to modernise soon, they’ll both be out of a job.’

‘I see.’ His eyes were impossibly dark, Sabrina reflected, her heartbeat racing suddenly. It was the wine, she told herself. She’d better take it easy. More than a couple of glasses and she might—just might—make a complete fool of herself…

‘If I owned a house I’d put that up as collateral but, as I only rent my flat, that isn’t a possibility.’ Shrugging, she tried to dismiss her worries and focus on the man in front of her instead. She’d come out to enjoy herself, not bring everything down by talking about work. Ellie was probably right. She was too fixated on her job. She’d almost forgotten how to have fun.

‘This wine is delicious. Thank you so much for asking me out for the evening. I’m really enjoying myself.’

‘You are very passionate about your business…and loyal to your staff. I admire that, Sabrina.’

‘And what about you, Javier? What are your passions in life?’

‘Don’t you know you can’t ask someone from my country such a question without the same answers?’

‘And that is?’

‘Argentina. I’m from the capital city—Buenos Aires—and my passions are football, politics and—until very recently—living life in the fast lane.’ One corner of his beautiful mouth hitched slightly upwards as if the confession pained him. Even with the wine heating her blood, Sabrina couldn’t fail to pick up on the sudden sadness in his voice. Immediately she felt guilty. They’d spent most of the evening so far talking about her. She wasn’t usually such selfish company—at least she prayed not.

‘So.’ She fixed him with such a direct gaze that Javier suddenly experienced a very disorienting feeling of light-headedness. ‘Something must have happened to change that? Life in the fast lane, I mean.’

Brought back to earth with a bump, Javier felt his stomach muscles knot painfully as he remembered Michael in hospital, Angelina crying herself to sleep and his own life thrown into the worst kind of personal turmoil yet again in the space of eight short years.

‘You are right, something happened,’ he said heavily, loosening his tie. ‘But it is not something I care to talk about right now.’

‘I understand.’ Her voice was softly concerned. ‘I just want you to know that if you felt the need to share what was troubling you, I would be a good listener.’

‘Of that I have no doubt.’ Raising his glass, Javier gave her a small toast. ‘I am wondering why you are alone, Sabrina, or am I being too presumptuous? Is there a man in your life?’

‘Apart from my horrible bank manager, my colleague Robbie and my lovely brother-in-law, Phil?’ Her laugh was uninhibitedly melodic and very, very sexy. The kind of laugh a man didn’t easily forget.

‘No, Javier. I am footloose and fancy-free…whatever that means. Most of my time is taken up by the business. When I’m there, work just takes over, and when I’m not there I spend most of my free time worrying about it. Boring, aren’t I? I don’t think many men would put up with that.’

‘Men who do not welcome a challenge, perhaps.’

What was he saying? Sabrina thought in fright. Would he welcome such a challenge? Her heart did a crazy little dance.

‘And what about the future?’ he wanted to know, dark eyes speculative. ‘Do you see yourself perhaps getting married and having a family?’

It would be too crude to make some flip comment about her biological clock ticking, Sabrina thought, suddenly depressed. Suffice just to tell him no—such a future probably wasn’t on the cards for her personally.

‘Not really. The business is my baby. Oh, it’s not that I don’t love kids, I do. It’s just that—well, I’m not twenty-something any more and, anyway, I’m probably far too set in my ways for any man to want to take on. How about yourself; do you have a lady in your life? Perhaps at home in Argentina?’

Javier thought about Christina, the ‘twenty-something’ beautiful Brazilian model he’d been dating up until a couple of months ago—when he’d come home unexpectedly early one afternoon and found her in bed with his twice-married, chain-smoking neighbour, Carlo. He shrugged. ‘The lady in my life is eleven years old.’ Inevitably a smile found its way to his lips when he spoke about Angelina. He wondered if there was any news from the hospital. He prayed she would get to sleep without tears wetting her pillow tonight.

‘You have a daughter?’ Blue eyes widening with surprise, Sabrina leant towards him across the table, unknowingly treating him to a very tantalising view of her creamy breasts down the scooped neck of her blouse. Heat raced into Javier’s groin and for a moment he was stunned. It had been such a long time since the sight of a beautiful woman could do that to him spontaneously.

He blinked. ‘A niece. My sister’s child, Angelina.’

‘What a pretty name.’

‘Yes.’

The waiter interrupted them with their meal. As he bustled about, laying plates on the white rich linen cloth and replenishing their wine, Sabrina sensed there was an air of sorrow about her companion that tugged at her heartstrings and made her want to know what distressed him so. Right now those impressively broad shoulders of his looked weighed down with the worries of the world and she longed to be able to offer even the smallest crumb of comfort.

‘Everything looks wonderful.’ Picking up her fork, she tried to lighten the mood a little.

Javier smiled that destroyingly slow, thoughtful smile of his that made something in her innermost core clench and tighten with shivery anticipation, and simply said, ‘Eat. Enjoy. Then we will talk some more.’

He accompanied her in a taxi home but didn’t come in when Sabrina offered him coffee, a nightcap or both. Instead he told her how much he’d enjoyed her company, advised her not to worry about the business because he felt sure something good would turn up, and politely kissed her hand. What threw Sabrina completely was that the charmingly old-fashioned gesture was so unbelievably erotic that her legs were shaking when she finally let herself into her flat and closed the door. Dropping down onto her softly patterned couch with its fading beige and green flowers, she briefly closed her eyes and sighed heavily. He hadn’t suggested they see each other again and no doubt she’d blown it by wittering on about the business. A cool, sophisticated, urbane man like Javier D’Alessandro probably thought she was totally boring and one-dimensional, and who could blame him?

When she opened her eyes again she was dismayed to feel tears running down her cheeks. She’d tried so hard to be a success. So hard. And all her parents and Ellie were concerned about was when was she going to settle down with a man and have a brood of kids. The fact that she’d successfully run a business for fifteen years meant nothing to them. Suddenly her life seemed all those things she’d accused herself of being and more and she was very, very sorry for it indeed.

Michael rallied after his latest treatment but the doctors told Javier and Michael’s mother, Angela, that they mustn’t be too hopeful. Too hopeful? The fury Javier experienced in his gut burned him like fire tearing through dry tinder, his Latin temperament rising up in rage against the expected conformity that was supposed to be the acceptable Western reaction to such news. Angela Calder simply squeezed her son’s pale, listless hand with her own beringed elegant one and smiled in calm acquiescence. Too ill to notice, even though he’d been much better all day, Michael too seemed to have resigned himself to what he thought of as the inevitable. When Angela briefly quitted the room to go in search of a cup of tea, Michael gestured Javier to his side and told him he had something important to discuss.

‘Angelina.’ The sick man leant back against the plumped-up white pillows on his hospital bed and forced a smile. Javier immediately felt his throat tighten. It was hard to look at his brother-in-law with all the tubes and medical equipment attached to him without wanting to rip them out and take him home.

‘What about Angelina, Michael?’

‘I want you to adopt her. You’re her closest link to her mother and me. I’d ask Ma but she’s not equipped to take care of a child of eleven. She’s not strong…a worrier. She let my father do everything until he died. And Angelina doesn’t know her that well—she’s not exactly been a constant in her life. Not like she knows you, Javier. Will you do that for me, my friend? Will you be a father to my little girl until she grows up?’

There was a burning sensation in his throat and on his lap Javier’s knuckles squeezed white. ‘It would be an honour, Michael. But you are not going to die…you will get well, sí? The hospital, they are doing everything they can to make you well again. Please, do not give up so easily.’

‘I’m not giving up. I just know what I know, Javier. Please take care of Angelina and don’t take her away from her friends, from all she knows. There must be a way you can stay here. I know it’s a lot to ask…your home is in Argentina, but you have a home here too. You’ve always had a home with us. You know that.’ Michael coughed and went deathly pale. Jumping up beside him, Javier gently squeezed his shoulder.

‘Michael! Shall I call someone?’ He was already turning away, hurrying to the door, pulling it wide and glancing up and down the thickly carpeted corridor for a nurse.

‘Javier.’

He returned to Michael’s bedside, his heart pounding.

‘What is it? I am here.’

‘Promise me. Promise me you’ll adopt Angelina? I’ve got to know if you will do this for me.’

Taking the other man’s hand in his own, Javier squeezed it as hard as he dared. His chest feeling as if it was in a vice, he managed to dredge up a smile, thinking, This is too hard, too cruel for anyone to bear; first Dorothea, now Michael.

‘I promise, Michael. I give you my word.’

As the nurse bustled into the room, pushing the drugs trolley ahead of her with a cheery smile that made Javier want to curse, he excused himself, telling his brother-in-law that he needed to get out and get some air—to walk and think and come up with some kind of a plan.

He’d hardly known where his feet were leading him until he found himself outside East-West Travel. There were two other customers in the shop today, one seated opposite the young blonde woman he’d seen on his first visit, and the other engaged in conversation with a man who appeared to be in his late thirties. His brown hair was thinning on top and he wore pale steel-framed glasses that made his colourless face seem even paler. There was no sign of Sabrina. Perhaps she had gone to lunch? Glancing down at his watch, Javier saw that it was just past eleven in the morning. Coffee break, then? He’d never know until he went in and asked.

Jill glanced up in surprise as she recognised the incredibly good-looking male who walked through the door.

‘Hello there,’ she said cheerily. ‘Looking for Sabrina?’

‘Sí. I mean yes. Is she around?’

‘She’s in the back.’ She pointed vaguely in the direction of the little room at the end. ‘Busy doing paperwork.’

‘Then I won’t disturb her.’ Frustrated, Javier went to walk away.

Jill waved him to a stop. ‘Don’t be silly! There’s nothing Sabrina likes better than to be distracted from her paperwork. Go on through. She might even have the kettle on.’

His first glimpse of Sabrina was her back. She was wearing a formal blue skirt and jacket, her delightful hair caught up in some intricate tortoiseshell comb, her stockinged feet bare. At the moment one small, slender foot was easing its way up and down the back of her calf as if to soothe the strain that was there. He heard her proffer up a very unladylike curse beneath her breath as she studied some papers on top of an antiquated steel filing cabinet, and couldn’t help but smile.

‘Hello there. Your colleague said it was all right if I came through.’

Her heart knocking wildly against her ribs, Sabrina spun round, took one look at Javier D’Alessandro and found her greeting jammed in her throat. Wearing a stylish black coat over black jeans and a navy-blue cashmere sweater, the man looked like a million dollars. The citrus, woody tang of his aftershave wafted round the room, tightening her insides, instinctively making her want to retreat behind her professional mask for protection.

‘It’s nice to see you again.’ Smoothing down her skirt, she smiled. She was the first good thing that had happened to him all day, Javier acknowledged. Perhaps it would make it easier to broach the subject he had come to talk to her about? He hoped so.

‘You too. I was wondering if we could talk a little?’

Taken aback, Sabrina tucked a stray glossy strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Of course. Is here all right? I know it’s a bit cramped but I don’t really have anywhere else to—’

‘I noticed a park across the road.’ Javier jerked his head vaguely in that direction. ‘Can we take a walk?’

‘Why not? I could do with some fresh air, to tell you the truth. I’ll just get my coat.’

The winding concrete path into the ornamental gardens was littered with the colourful debris of autumn leaves. As they walked along side by side, Sabrina shivered inside her warm camel-coloured coat, wishing she’d thought to add her scarf to the hastily donned outer clothing. A tremendous gust of wind whooshed past her ear just then, and she shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets and turned her head to grin at the man beside her.

‘Tenerife is sounding more and more attractive by the minute, wouldn’t you say?’ she announced cheerfully. ‘Coming from a warm climate, this weather must seem positively Arctic to you!’

‘My country has an amazing diversity of climates and landscapes. Don’t forget we’ve got the snowcapped Andes as well as acres of hot, humid jungle. But yes, I do agree, by my home city’s standards, it is pretty cold.’ As he smiled back at her with something like pleasure in those deep, dark eyes with their straight black lashes, it was still clear that Javier had something on his mind other than the weather.

In for a penny… Sabrina decided to bite the bullet. Best clear the air and get whatever it was he had to say out of the way, then maybe, just maybe, she could suggest they meet for lunch later on in the week? She could practically hear Ellie cheering on the sidelines. Sabrina had never—not even once—asked a man out on a date. Well, there was a first time for everything, so they said…

‘You wanted to talk. Was it something in particular?’

Spying a weatherworn bench near a thick clump of hedgerow, Javier jerked his head towards it. ‘Perhaps it would be better if we sat down?’

For some reason, Sabrina’s heartbeat thundered in her chest as she sat down beside him. Where previously they’d been companionable, something in the air had shifted perceptibly and there was a new tension emanating from the big, handsome man sitting next to her. Once again Sabrina shivered, but this time not with the cold.

‘I can help you with your business,’ he said without preamble.

‘What did you say?’ She’d heard but couldn’t begin to make sense of such a statement.

‘I will give you the money—whatever the amount—as well as my expertise and knowledge to help you modernise the business and bring it into the twenty-first century.’

Sabrina’s pale hand curled tightly round the wrought-iron arm rest of the bench. ‘What’s all this about, Javier? I don’t understand.’

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