Alejandro's Revenge (13 page)

But meeting Lauren had been reassuring. She was evidently very much in love with her English fiancé. She'd greeted Abby like the sister she'd never had, asking her lots of questions about Edward's childhood, showing sympathy for the fact that Abby had virtually had to bring her brother up on her own. She'd thanked her, too, for allowing Edward to come to Florida, teasing him by speculating who she might have been marrying if he hadn't come to work for her father.

They'd seemed extremely happy together, and Abby, who had had some misgivings about the wedding, had been completely won over by Lauren's warmth and sincerity. For the first time in her life she felt that Edward was standing on his own two feet, and she was able to relax.

The plan was that Edward would come around this morning and take Abby sightseeing. But the pool was irresistible, and she'd swum several lengths before she realised that someone was standing on the tiled surround, watching her.

She thought at first that it was Edward. She came up, sweeping her hair from her eyes, prepared to make some teasing comment about him sleeping in as usual. Then she saw that it wasn't her brother, after all. The watcher was too tall, too dark, too overwhelmingly masculine to be mistaken for the younger man. Despite the heat, he was dressed in a charcoal-grey suit that fairly screamed its designer label, and, with his hands tucked casually into his trouser pockets, he looked both broodingly thoughtful and sexy as hell.

Abby's breath caught in the back of her throat as she struggled to put a name to the visitor. She'd met various members of Lauren's family the night before, but she was sure if she'd seen this man she'd have remembered. Though perhaps not.
She had been tired and there had been so many unfamiliar faces.

Whatever, she was at a disadvantage in the pool, and, wishing her swimsuit was more stylish than practical, she swam to the side where she'd left a towel and scrambled out. Then, wrapping the towel sarong-wise about her, she offered the man a tentative smile.

‘I—it's a beautiful morning,' she said, groaning to find herself speaking about the weather. He would think that was all English people ever spoke about. ‘I suppose you're used to it.'

The man inclined his head. ‘I suppose I am,' he agreed, with a small smile that caused a ripple of awareness to feather down her spine. He had a faint accent, just as the Esquivals did, and there was an indulgent note in his voice as he added softly, ‘You must be Edward's sister. Abigail, is it not?'

Abby swallowed. ‘That's right.' She wasn't sure whether he expected them to shake hands and she made an awkward little move towards him. ‘Um—have we met?'

‘Regrettably, not until this moment,' he replied, solving her problem by closing the distance between them and bending to bestow a kiss on each cheek in turn. ‘
Bienvenido a
Miami, Abigail. I am happy to meet you.'

Abby gazed up at him for a moment, totally incapable of saying anything. She could still feel the brush of his lips on her cheek, the warmth of his breath against her skin. His response had been so swift, so unexpected, so totally earth-shattering, that she found herself speechless. And she was uneasily aware of a vulnerability she'd never felt before.

But she had to say something, and, taking a step back from him, she managed breathlessly, ‘And you are…?'

‘Ah, perdón, cara,'
he exclaimed, his dark eyes alight with self-recrimination. ‘
Me olivido
. I forget. We have not been introduced.
No importa
. I am the cousin of Dolores,
sí
? Alejandro Varga. I am most happy to meet you, Abigail. We must see that you enjoy your visit to Florida. So much so that you will want to come back,
no
?'

‘No. I mean, yes.' Abby was flustered. She realised the towel was slipping and hastily gathered it more closely about her. ‘That is—I hope so.'

Alejandro smiled again and Abby felt a pleasurable pain in the pit of her stomach. But her face was hot and she was sure she must look like a ripe tomato.

‘Good,' he said, and to her relief—or was it to her disappointment?—he made no further attempt to detain her. Instead, he stepped aside, allowing her free access to the steps that led up to the patio. ‘I am sure we will meet again very soon,' he added as she reached the top of the steps. ‘Until then,
adios
.'

‘
Adi
—um—goodbye,' she mumbled foolishly, hardly knowing what she was saying. With a nervous backward glance she hurried into the house.

Of course she despised herself afterwards. She was sure he must have been amused by her complete lack of sophistication. It had only been his innate courtesy that had saved what had been for her a totally embarrassing encounter.

But that didn't stop her from wondering what he'd thought of her, from fretting over the way she'd reacted to what had actually been a perfectly normal introduction. He'd probably thought she wasn't used to talking to men. Which, unfortunately, was only too true. He might even have felt sorry for her. No, scrub that. He had definitely felt sorry for her. That was why he'd gone out of his way to put her at her ease.

But, heavens, he was so different from anyone she had ever dealt with, and she'd been hopelessly overwhelmed when she'd emerged from the water to find him watching her. Why had he been watching her? What possible interest could she have for him?

Despite his promises to take her sightseeing, Edward seemed more concerned with the final arrangements for his honeymoon than in making sure his sister was entertained. The Esquivals, naturally, were busy with the preparations for the wedding. Consequently, Abby found time lying heavily on her hands, and not even the delights of being able to swim and
sunbathe if she wanted could entirely remove the suspicion that she was in the way.

There was so much going on around her: the house was rapidly filling with flowers, and marquee erectors and caterers were constantly on hand, discussing guest numbers and menus with Mrs Esquival. If Abby went down to the pool she had to run the gamut of a dozen pairs of dark eyes, and exposing her body to their evaluation became less and less appealing.

She had suggested that she might go out on her own, but Lauren's father had been unenthusiastic.

‘You are a stranger here, Abigail,' he said on her second evening at dinner. ‘You do not know your way about.' He looked at her brother then. ‘Edward will look after you. You have some free time for your sister,
no
? You must make sure you do not neglect her, eh?'

Of course Edward would have promised his future father-in-law anything. But he had been absent for most of the day. He had said he would come round the following morning. But she was still waiting when Alejandro arrived.

The Cuban was dressed much less formally today, Abby noticed. Even so, his black tee shirt and drawstring khaki pants still looked expensive and elegant. But then, on him, anything would look good, she thought enviously. It was something to do with the almost graceful way he moved.

For once Dolores wasn't about, and he strolled onto the terrace with a cool familiarity. He smiled at the sight of Abby sitting on a lounge chair, an unopened book beside her. Her jean-clad knees were drawn up to her chin, and her arms were wrapped almost wistfully about them.

‘All alone?' he remarked, startling her out of her reverie, and she immediately straightened her legs and ran a nervous hand over the curling halo of her hair.

‘For now,' she agreed, glancing swiftly about her. ‘Um— Mrs Esquival is somewhere around. Would you like me to get her for you?'

‘No.' Alejandro raised his hand in a negative gesture when she would have scrambled off the lounger and gone looking
for the other woman. ‘I did not come here to interrupt Dolores. I am sure she has enough to do as it is. If I know my cousin, everything will have to adhere to her most exacting standards. The bride, the flowers, the service; even the cake must not be less than perfect,
no
?'

‘No.' Abby felt a smile tilt the corners of her mouth. He was obviously amused, too, and he didn't hide it. His eyes glinted with a rueful humour that she could share.

‘So, what have you planned for the rest of the day?' he enquired, seating himself on the side of the lounger nearest to her. He arched a dark brow. ‘Your brother is taking you sightseeing, perhaps?'

‘I don't know what Eddie's doing,' she replied, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. ‘I've hardly seen him since I arrived.'

‘No?' Alejandro frowned. ‘But surely yesterday—?'

‘He arrived in time for dinner,' said Abby, and then, feeling slightly disloyal for talking about her brother in this way, she added quickly, ‘He has a lot to do, too. He and Lauren are going to Bali for their honeymoon, as you probably know, and he wants to make sure everything goes smoothly. He wants no hang-ups over passports or accommodation, that sort of thing.'

Alejandro was silent for a moment, and then he said quietly, ‘I would have thought such details could be safely left in the hands of his travel agent, but who knows? Edward may be like Dolores. I know she worries too much.'

Abby had the feeling that Edward was nothing like his future mother-in-law. He'd never worried about anything in his life. But she didn't say so. This man was a stranger to her, after all. Just because he was a cousin of Dolores that did not give her a reason to confide in him.

‘Bien.'
He seemed to come to a decision. ‘Then perhaps you will permit me to give you a guided tour of the city,
no
? I do not promise to know everything about it. I was born in Havana,
por supuesto
. But I have lived here for over twenty years, and I have come to regard the city as my home.'

Abby's face flamed. ‘Oh—but that's not necessary,' she began, sure now that he was feeling sorry for her. ‘I mean—I can wait—'

‘For Edward?' suggested Alejandro drily. ‘Yes, you can. But I am here and I am more than willing to offer myself as your escort.' His dark eyes searched her face. ‘What do you say?'

What could she say? What
should
she say? she asked herself a little breathlessly. She wanted to go. Of course she did. But should she? Would Edward approve?

Did she care?

‘I—it's very kind of you,' she murmured. ‘If Dolores doesn't need my help—'

‘You will come?'

Abby took a breath. ‘All right,' she said weakly. Then, glancing at her jeans, ‘But I'll have to change first.'

‘Very well.'

Alejandro inclined his head, getting to his feet as she did, and for a heart-stopping moment he was close enough for her to feel the heat of his muscled frame. His arm touched her breast as he turned away, and, hearing her sudden intake of air, he turned towards her.

‘I am sorry,' he said softly. ‘I am clumsy. Are you hurt?'

‘No. No, not at all,' she assured him urgently, putting the width of the terrace between them. If she felt any discomfort it was not because of the disturbing brush of his hand. ‘I— I'll get changed. I won't be long.'

A
BBY
took a few minutes to sluice her hot face with cold water, but it did no good. When she gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror her cheeks were still bright with colour. But what could she expect? It wasn't every day that she was invited to go sightseeing with an attractive man like Alejandro Varga. And, whether he felt sorry for her or not, she owed it to herself to enjoy the experience.

Fortunately, she'd brought some pretty outfits with her, imagining that Edward would be only too eager to show her where he lived and how familiar with the city he was. But then, she'd also expected to stay with him, not with his future in-laws, and she wasn't entirely sure that accepting Alejandro's invitation would meet with universal approval.

Dismissing such negative thoughts, she chose a simple cream dress with an embroidered hem. Its draped bodice exposed the dusky hollow of her cleavage and its short skirt complemented her long shapely legs.

No one could ever accuse her of being thin, she thought ruefully, turning sideways in front of the mirror. But she was slim in all the right places, and with her hair controlled by two narrow braids at each temple she had infinitely more confidence in herself. She was still flushed, of course, but she couldn't help that. At least the cream dress didn't clash with her fiery hair.

Slipping slingbacks that added an extra couple of inches to her height onto her feet, she left her room and went back downstairs. And knew, as soon as she saw Alejandro waiting in the marble entry, that he thought she had made the right choice.

‘I have told Dolores you are going out,' he said at once,
forestalling her intention of going to speak to her hostess. His eyes assessed her appearance with evident approval. ‘You look delightful,
cara
. Come. My car is just outside.'

‘But what about Lauren?'

‘I'm told that Lauren is having a final fitting at the dressmaker's,' Alejandro informed her smoothly, urging her towards the door. He cast a faintly impatient glance at the hovering maid. ‘Tell your mistress the young lady will be back after lunch,
por favor
.'

‘Oughtn't I to say goodbye to Dolores?' Abby persisted, and Alejandro gave a mocking smile.

‘So long as you are aware that she may feel obligated to act as chaperon,' he remarked drily ‘She probably thinks your brother is going with us. I have said nothing to disabuse her of the thought.'

‘Well…' Abby murmured weakly, aware that she was probably taking an enormous risk by going out with him alone. ‘All right.' She stepped out into the bright sunlight. ‘What a beautiful morning! It is a shame to stay in the house.'

Alejandro inclined his head, going past her to swing open the nearside door of the sleek black limousine that was parked at the foot of the steps. Then, after helping her inside, where the feel of cool soft leather and the pleasurable aromas of expensive soap and clean male skin assaulted her senses, he walked round the bonnet and coiled his length beside her.

The look he gave her then mingled warm admiration with satisfaction, and she realised once again that he had probably known she'd give in all along. ‘If you will forgive the presumption, I prefer there to be no extraneous distractions,' he remarked, starting the engine of the powerful vehicle. ‘You will forgive me for wanting you to myself.'

Abby shook her head. She didn't really believe him, but she had the feeling it would be better if she didn't probe too deeply into his motivations. One way or another, she was committed to spending the morning with him. If Dolores didn't approve, she would get over it. She would just have to face the consequences when she got back.

They drove first to Miami Beach, crossing one of the many causeways that linked the long strip of land, famous for its many fabulous hotels, from the mainland. Abby found the trip along Collins Avenue a revelation. Each glass and steel monolith seemed to be trying to outdo its neighbour, with the art deco hotels of Ocean Drive monuments to its colourful history.

Alejandro parked the car and they walked past the bars and sidewalk cafés that spilled from hotel patios all along the boulevard. He explained that the area had undergone a complete renovation in recent years, and that it was very much a going place after dark. But he also showed her the mansion where a famous dress designer had been murdered on his own doorstep, and took her for coffee at the News Café, which was already packed with residents and tourists eager for the latest gossip.

Later, they drove into the city itself, and Abby was amazed to see what a mixture of styles and cultures it was. Skyscrapers stood cheek by jowl with tacky discount stores, and many of the shops catered to a mainly South American clientele.

Once again Alejandro parked the car in one of the secure lots, and, after assuring himself that she was happy to walk, he took her on a tour of some of Miami's more impressive tourist establishments. Flagler Street was home to two of southern Florida's more famous museums, one of which was an art museum which Abby loved. A visitors' gallery provided lots of ways to research the paintings being exhibited and she wished museums back home were more visitor-friendly like this.

Alejandro also showed her a part of Biscayne Boulevard that was more continental than anything she had seen so far. Then he took her for lunch at the top of one of the tallest buildings in the city. The view across the bay was stunning, blue skies and sunlit water providing a vista she thought she'd never forget.

Abby was so glad she hadn't allowed her innate cautiousness to deter her from spending this time with Alejandro. He had been a marvellous guide, both interesting and knowledge
able, and she was sure she'd learned more in the past few hours than she would ever have thought possible. She already felt more at home here and, although she had listened to his warning about taking safety for granted, she had been given an unforgettable taste of the real Miami.

Not surprisingly, Alejandro offered to choose what they had for lunch also. And, after dining on broiled shrimp and tangy cheese and fresh fruit salad, Abby was glad she'd taken his advice. She'd never eaten such tasty shellfish, or gorged on such juicy pineapple and melon. There was papaya, too, its orange flesh sweet and luscious, and slices of avocado, sharp with a lemon dressing.

Although they'd conducted a desultory conversation throughout the meal, it wasn't until rich dark coffee had been served that Alejandro asked her if she had enjoyed herself.

‘Need you ask?' Abby was amazed that he should have any doubts. But, meeting his dark eyes across the suddenly narrow width of the table, she was immediately aware of the intimacy of his question. Yet, determined not to back down, she countered daringly, ‘Have you?'

Alejandro's lips tilted. ‘What was it you said?' he murmured. ‘Need you ask?' His smile deepened. ‘But, yes, I have enjoyed myself very much,
cara
. You are a—how shall I put it?—a delightful companion.'

‘A naïve one,' said Abby ruefully, guessing he would never be anything but polite. ‘But I am grateful to you for taking the time to—'

‘No.' His sudden interjection caused her to break off in mid-sentence. ‘Do not say it,
cara
. Your gratitude is not necessary. Not necessary at all. Spending the morning with you has been a pleasure. I am lucky to have been honoured with the experience.'

Abby smiled then. She couldn't help herself. He was so charming! He always said the right thing. But, while she appreciated his kindness, she couldn't help wishing she was the kind of woman who took his brand of flattery for granted.

‘You're a nice man, Mr Varga,' she said, not knowing what
to say. She put down her coffee cup and linked her fingers on the table. ‘But I'm sure you have more important things to do than take me sightseeing.'

Alejandro shrugged. ‘And if I tell you that I do not? What then?'

A trace of colour invaded her cheeks. ‘I'd say you were being polite—but not entirely truthful.'

‘No?'

‘No.' She sighed, spreading one hand expressively. ‘You're Dolores's cousin, right?' And, at his nod, ‘You arrived this morning—as you did yesterday morning,' she reminded him nervously, ‘and found me on my own again. I'd say you felt sorry for me. That was why you asked me out.'

Alejandro lay back in his chair. ‘Is that the impression I have given you?'

‘No.' Abby had to be honest. ‘But sightseeing can be boring. Particularly if you've seen it all before. Eddie hates looking round museums. I have to admit he's not much interested in the past.'

‘So—I have saved your brother from a fate worse than death, hmm?' he remarked drily, and she had to smile again.

‘I suppose,' she murmured ruefully. ‘Whatever, I know he'll be grateful to you for looking after me as you have.'

‘You think so?'

‘I know so,' she assured him fervently, hoping Edward would agree. ‘Um—do you know my brother well?'

‘I have met him,' said Alejandro non-committally. ‘I understand he works for Luis in one of his restaurants,
no
?'

‘That's right.' Abby nodded. ‘That was how he met Lauren. He came to work in America two years ago.'

‘Ah.' Alejandro absorbed this. ‘But you are the only member of his family coming for the wedding,
sí
?'

‘Yes.' Abby loved the way he interspersed his sentences with Spanish words and phrases. ‘Actually, apart from some distant cousins, there is no one else. Our father—died some years ago.'

‘And your mother also?'

‘Well—no.' Abby hesitated. ‘Our mother left when Eddie and I were just children. We haven't seen her since.'

‘Lo entiendo.'
Alejandro saw her confusion and added swiftly, ‘I understand.' He frowned. ‘But you must have been devastated when your brother left England. Did you never consider accompanying him?'

‘Oh, no.' Abby spoke without thinking. ‘I wouldn't have wanted to cramp his style.'

‘To cramp his style?' echoed Alejandro curiously, and Abby sighed.

‘Well, yes,' she responded lamely. ‘That is—Eddie had a job waiting for him and I—I didn't.'

She could hardly tell this man about Edward's infatuation with Selina Steward. Not when she was here to attend his wedding to someone else.

‘I see.' Alejandro nodded, and although Abby knew he couldn't possibly know what she was thinking she had the uneasy feeling that he did. ‘And do you work in the restaurant business also?'

‘I'm a teacher,' said Abby at once, feeling on safer ground. ‘An English teacher.' She pulled a wry face. ‘Not half as glamorous, I'm afraid.'

‘That depends on your point of view,' remarked her companion easily. ‘Not everyone who works in the restaurant business is involved in the preparation of the food,
tu sabes
.'

‘No.' Abby conceded his point. Then, deciding they had talked enough about her, she ventured, ‘And you, Mr Varga? Are you involved in the restaurant business yourself?'

‘Not directly,' he replied, his dark eyes disturbingly indulgent. ‘I do many things, Abigail. Not all of them either glamorous or interesting.'

‘I'm sure that's not true.' Abby's tongue circled her upper lip. ‘But you weren't born here, you said?' she persisted. ‘Does—er—does the rest of your family still live in Cuba?'

He was quiet for so long she thought at first he wasn't going to answer her. But then he shifted in his seat and said, ‘I have relatives who still live in the old country, it is true. Aunts,
uncles, cousins—many of whom would never dream of leaving their homeland. But I have relatives here, too. When my grandfather moved his family to the United States my father and mother came with him.'

‘And your mother didn't mind?' Abby asked. ‘Leaving her own family behind?'

‘Ah, no.' Alejandro straightened, resting one elbow on the table. ‘You do not understand,
cara
. My mother was an American.'

‘Oh.' Abby supposed that explained why he possessed such an attractive mix of Spanish gallantry and American sophistication. She hesitated a moment, and then said a little daringly, ‘So—how did they meet?'

‘You mean, because of the hostilities that have existed between this country and Cuba for so many years?' he queried softly, and she nodded. ‘
Sî
, you might think it was an unlikely union, eh?'

‘I was curious, that's all.' Abby felt embarrassed. ‘But if you'd rather not talk about it—'

‘Not at all.' He shrugged, his powerful shoulders moving easily beneath his silk jacket. ‘My mother was a nurse. She had been working in Cuba prior to the revolution, and regrettably she was caught up in the civil war that devastated the country. She was given refuge by my father's family and she and my father fell in love. They were married in 1960, just as the US government declared an economic embargo. I was born the following year.'

Abby was intrigued. ‘What a wonderful story.'

‘You think?' Alejandro paused. ‘Well, they loved one another, that is true. But because of land reform, and the fact that my grandfather was unable to sell his sugar cane to the United States, they were eventually forced to leave. We were virtually penniless when we arrived in Florida. But my grandfather was an enterprising man and he invested what little money he had in the leisure and tourism industry. By the time my father took over the business it was a much bigger concern, and I—' He pulled a wry face. ‘I have been lucky.'

Abby doubted luck had much to do with it. Alejandro struck her as being a very astute individual himself. But she didn't want to press him, so instead she said, ‘Are your grandparents still alive?'

‘Regrettably, no.' Alejandro shook his head. ‘My father is,
por supuesto
. But my mother died five years ago.'