Alejandro's Revenge (11 page)

His smile was enigmatic, but she guessed he knew exactly how feeble her boast was. The truth was, it was succeeding all too well, and when she put out her hand to ward him off she found her fingers caught in his tormenting grasp.

‘I fear Edward knows how wrong you are,' he breathed, and to her dismay he brought her hand to his lips. His tongue brushed her palm and she felt its sensual caress in every quivering nerve of her body. Hot and dark, his sexuality poured over her, and when he spoke again she had to concentrate hard to understand what he was saying. ‘He knows I still want you, does he not?' he murmured thickly. ‘That is what he has told you. That I would—how would he say it?—ditch Lauren,
no
, if I thought I could have you?'

‘Don't be so ridiculous!'

Abby dragged her hand away from his, scrubbing it violently against her hip. Yet she could still feel his tongue, still feel his heat enveloping her. Oh, God, she thought unsteadily. Why had she ever thought she could do this? Why had she let Edward persuade her that Alejandro would listen to her?

To her relief, however, Alejandro didn't pursue it. She didn't believe he'd accepted defeat. That was unlikely to be his way. He was probably only saving himself for a future confrontation. He knew as well as she did that she wasn't going anywhere right now.

‘Come,' he said abruptly, turning back to the windows. He
offered her his hand, but this time Abby knew better than to take it.

‘Where are we going?' she asked, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice, and he smiled.

‘To the dock, of course,' he said, unlatching the sliding doors and stepping aside to allow her to precede him. ‘I want to show you my boat.'

His boat! Abby took a calming breath. She'd forgotten why he'd invited her here. And she so much didn't want to leave the comparative safety of his house.

‘I—don't know,' she said, making no move to join him. ‘I'm not a very good sailor.'

‘You will not have to be,' he told her firmly. And she wondered if he thought that anything he said would reassure her.

‘Alejandro—'

‘Come,' he said again, with just a trace of impatience in his voice. ‘Would you disappoint your brother? He wishes for me to be so infatuated with you that I will do whatever he wants.'

A
LEJANDRO'S
boat was both more and less than Abby had anticipated.

It was smaller, certainly: a forty-foot vessel, with two masts gracing its shining teak deck. There were living quarters below that were both conservative and comfortable. But it wasn't the gleaming steel yacht Abby had expected. Like his house, it possessed charm and character instead.

They'd reached the dock by walking through a lush paradise of ferns and palms and creepers. Delicate orchids with trumpet-shaped petals had brushed her cheeks and waxy magnolias and vivid hibiscus grew in wild profusion, their scents alone heady and overpowering. Abby had been almost glad when Alejandro placed a firm hand in the small of her back to guide her over a particularly uneven patch of ground. Her head had been spinning, and it wasn't just the intoxication of the flowers.

She'd been intensely aware of his nearness. Of how easily he had overpowered her. But she had also been aware that the tropical undergrowth might hide other exotic specimens that were less attractive. Snakes and spiders, for example, although she doubted she was in any danger here.

Nevertheless, she'd been relieved when they had stepped onto the ribbed planking of the dock and she'd been able to free herself both from Alejandro's hold and the fears that had pursued her from the house. Yet now, when Alejandro went past her to check on the mooring lines, she found herself watching him again, admiring the tight curve of his buttocks as he bent to pull on the ropes. All his movements were lithe and sensual, she admitted. He seemed to possess a dark power she was unable to resist.

Dear Lord!

She dragged her eyes away from temptation and found herself gazing instead into two eyes staring at her from the darkness of the creek. They seemed to float just above the surface of the water, their appraisal heavy-lidded and intent.

A little squeak of alarm escaped her. She was sure it was an alligator, and she glanced in panic around the dock. Fortunately, it was built well above the water, to accommodate Alejandro's boat, but she could easily imagine the reptile crawling up the bank towards them.

Alejandro straightened at the sound of her cry. He turned quickly towards her and she realised she was probably making a fool of herself again. The creature, whatever it was, had disappeared beneath the surface of the water, and there was no way anyone could identify it in the creek's murky depths.

‘Is something wrong?'

Alejandro came towards her, and despite the fact that she'd calmed her fears Abby wished she dared clutch his hand. ‘It's nothing,' she said hurriedly, though her eyes still searched the reeds that grew in such profusion along the waterway. ‘I—' She had to say it. ‘I thought I saw an alligator.' The lamplight revealed his wry expression as she added, with some embarrassment, ‘But I'm sure it wasn't. And it's gone now, in any case.'

‘So what do you think it was?' he asked, arching his dark brows enquiringly.

‘I don't know.' She was sure he was making fun of her again, and she refused to let him see he had her spooked. ‘A fox, maybe. Or a raccoon. You have them here, don't you? But it was in the water. I just saw its eyes watching me.'

Alejandro smiled. ‘And you think it was admiring its supper before eating it,
bien
?' he mused softly, and she gave him an indignant look.

‘I knew you wouldn't take it seriously,' she said, wrapping her arms about herself. ‘Well, I'm not used to wild animals in my backyard.'

‘Nor am I,
cara
,' he assured her softly. ‘And I am sorry if
you did not like my joke. But I doubt if it was an alligator,
mi amor
. Alligators do not usually scare my guests.'

‘So what was it?'

Alejandro shrugged. ‘A manatee, perhaps,' he replied consideringly. ‘There used to be many of them about here. Regrettably the propellers of speedboats have made them an endangered species.'

‘Oh.' Abby stared at him. ‘That's awful!'

‘It is also life,' said Alejandro drily. ‘Or should I say death? You have a soft heart,
cara
. I like that.'

No, I'm just soft, thought Abby, not knowing how to answer him, and she was relieved when Alejandro changed the subject.

‘Shall we go aboard?' he suggested, indicating the gangway he'd attached to the bow. He glanced at her feet. ‘But perhaps you should take off your shoes,
no
? I would hate for you to lose your balance and fall into the creek with our uninvited guest.'

Abby glared at him. She hadn't had any option when it came to her choice of footwear, and she was perfectly well aware of how ridiculous her sandals must appear to him. He probably thought she'd worn them to impress him, she thought resentfully, and she kicked off her heels with some irritation.

‘Much better,' he observed softly, and although he wasn't looking at them her toes curled just the same. He had a way of speaking to her that caused the fine hairs on the back of her neck to prickle in anticipation, and she was again reminded of the night they had spent together.

Brushing past him, she made for the gangway. She wanted the evening over, she told herself. And once he realised that he was wasting his time baiting her he'd surely get to the point of this meeting.

He followed her aboard and the boat rocked alarmingly on the swell. But, although she half expected him to take advantage of her momentary unsteadiness to touch her, he just moved ahead into the pilot's cabin and switched on the generator.

Almost immediately lights flowered all over the vessel and Abby caught her breath at the beauty of polished wood and shining brass. A steep stairway led down into the stateroom and Alejandro came out of the cabin to indicate that she should follow him.

She would have preferred to go ahead rather than follow him. It meant she had to expose herself to his enigmatic gaze. But he was already descending the steps with the ease of familiarity, and, dropping her sandals onto the deck, she grasped the handrail and started down.

Keeping her eyes firmly on her feet, and not on his dark upturned face, she looked about her. Below deck was just as impressive as above. A galley was situated to one side and a narrow companionway gave access to the main cabin. Beyond that, she guessed, were the sleeping quarters. But that was definitely something she didn't want to think about now.

There was the delicious scent of cooked food, but a brief glance into the galley convinced her that no one had been cooking there. As with Lauren and Edward's apartment, the kitchen looked untouched, and she was therefore unprepared for the sight that met her eyes when she stepped into the stateroom.

A long buffet table had been laid beneath the square windows, and the scents she had detected earlier evidently came from here. Everything was steaming hot, and she could only assume that while she and Alejandro had been having their drinks at the house a veritable army of servants had been working tirelessly. How long had it taken, she wondered, to set this up?

‘I hope you like Cuban food,' murmured Alejandro half apologetically, and she shook her head in total disbelief.

‘It—smells delicious,' she said hastily, realising that he might misinterpret that reaction. Then, because she couldn't remain angry with him when he'd obviously gone to so much trouble on her account, she added softly, ‘You'll have to tell me what everything is. Apart from stone crabs, I don't think I've tried Cuban food before.'

‘O—kay.' The word sounded strange coming from his lips, but his smile was genuine enough. ‘Let me introduce you, hmm?'

He collected a fork from the display and invited her to join him beside the table. Then, dipping the fork into a concoction of saffron-flavoured rice and peas, he skewered an enormous shrimp and offered it to her.

It was delicious: fleshy and sweet, and dripping with a rich creamy sauce.
‘Camarones,'
Alejandro said, indicating the shrimp. He watched her bite into it with obvious enjoyment. ‘You like,
sí
?'

‘Sî.'

Abby dabbed at her chin with a napkin, aware that she probably shouldn't be enjoying herself. But she was. Nevertheless, letting him take her to dinner was one thing. Letting him feed her from his own hand was something else.

The next thing he offered was a golden-brown roll that she'd assumed was made of potato but wasn't. Delicious curls of ham delighted her tastebuds as she bit into it. Mixed with shredded vegetables and fried to a consistency that was crisp on the outside and juicily soft within, it was both sweet and spicy. It reminded her of fritters she'd tasted at home.

‘Croquetas,'
he said, once again enjoying her pleasure. Then, with disturbing intimacy. ‘Has anyone ever told you what a delight you are to please,
cara
? So many women would starve themselves before they would eat this food.'

Abby grimaced, wiping her mouth. ‘What are you saying? That I'm a lost cause?' she asked. She was gazing longingly at the crisply roasted chicken he had chosen next, and Alejandro's brows drew together in confusion.

‘Que?'
he said. ‘I do not know what you mean?'

‘That I'm fat?' suggested Abby wryly, and he made an astonished sound.

‘You are not fat,
cara
,' he said huskily. ‘And I should know,
recuerda?
Remember?'

She remembered, but now was not the time to be thinking of that. Not when he was so near, when he was being so nice,
and when she was definitely in danger of forgetting why she was here.

‘Um—what's this?' she asked, moving away from him along the table, and to her relief he accepted her attempt to change the subject.

‘That is
ropa vieja
,' he told her lightly. ‘A shredded beef stew. And the spicy-smelling dish beside it is gumbo, which is not a Cuban speciality at all. It actually comes from the Cajun district of southern Louisiana, but I like it and I am hoping you will like it also.'

Abby was very much afraid that she liked everything—which wasn't very wise when the dishes she was being offered were all rich in carbohydrates and served in heavy sauces. She dreaded to think how many calories she was consuming. But the food didn't seem to have done Alejandro any harm, she reflected ruefully, and stopped worrying about her diet and just indulged herself.

As well as all the spicy dishes there were other things to tempt her.
Plátano
, which was deep-fried banana; crème caramel Hispanic-style, cooked in a crisply baked pastry shell; Florida's own key lime pie and fruits of every kind.

They eventually filled their plates and retired to the cushioned banquette that circled the bow. From here long windows gave an uninterrupted view of the creek, where the dancing lights of vessels out in the bay glinted in the darkness.

Alejandro put some Latino music on the hi-fi, and the exotic rhythms of salsa and merengue couldn't help but fire her blood. Sometimes the beat was fast, but at others it was slower and sensually appealing. It was music to dance to or make love to, and her senses wavered at the prospect of doing either of those things with Alejandro.

Even so, she was relaxing. Slowly, but surely she could feel the tension in her body slipping away. Alejandro had made no move towards her and she was half inclined to believe that her awareness of him was exaggerated. He was certainly doing his best to put her at her ease.

Nevertheless, she was aware that the wine might have some
thing to do with it. Despite her misgivings, it would have been churlish to refuse. But it was certainly heady stuff, and she'd drunk several glasses. By the time the meal was over she was feeling decidedly muzzy.

But pleasantly so, she assured herself, unable at that moment to find the energy to worry about it. She was enjoying herself too much, and she didn't want to spoil it by thinking about anything else.

Edward!

Her brother's face swam before her eyes and she blinked determinedly. That was why she was here: to talk about Edward. Nothing else. She was letting herself be seduced by the night and the wine and the music—and the man, she thought impatiently. She should never forget the reasons that had brought her here.

Or the man who was to blame.

Alejandro.

She started when he got to his feet, but he only collected their plates and went aft to deposit them in the galley. Then he was back again, holding out his hand towards her, inviting her to get to her feet.

He expected her to dance with him, she realised, disbelievingly. Just as she was preparing herself to confront him, he was following his own agenda again. And this time there was no escape. Setting her wine glass aside, he pulled her up from the banquette. Before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms.

‘We have to talk,' she protested, feeling the heat of his fingers through the thin fabric of her top. His thumb brushed the bare skin above the back of the halter and she shivered. ‘Alejandro, I don't want to dance with you. That's not why I came.'

‘No.' He conceded the point, but he didn't let her go. ‘But that does not mean we cannot enjoy ourselves,
cara
. Trust me. We will get to what you want in good time.'

Trust him? Abby felt a hysterical desire to laugh. Yeah, right, she thought wildly. She could do that. She'd done it
before and look where it had got her. She wouldn't be here at all if she hadn't made the mistake of trusting Alejandro before. How could he ask her to trust him when she didn't even trust herself?

Nevertheless, when he started to move in time to the music it was incredibly difficult to keep that in mind. The night, the hypnotic rhythm of the music, the lean strength of his body moving against hers, sent her senses reeling. His hand was in the small of her back, pressing her even closer. If she relaxed and leaned into him would she feel the hard length of his manhood against her stomach?