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BOOK 8
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Being Yours BOOK 8
Once she was alone, Alex began to walk slowly around the courtyard, filling it with imaginary items as she did so. In her mind’s eye it became a place of light and shade. She soothed the lurid decor into warm pastels, painted the slim columns with fresh white paint, and introduced wooden tables and chairs and large urns of exotic flowers, making these its only decoration apart from the foaming fountain, which she would return to its former glory.Then, after allowing herself another moment to savor it, she moved purposefully back toward the entrance and began a systematic tour of the whole building, making copious notes on a set of plans that Matt had left with her. It took her a long time, and by the time she reached the topmost tower, she was thirsty and her feet were aching. She sat on the low stone windowsill, kicked off her shoes, and wriggled her toes. She really must stop this stupid predilection for ridiculously high heels. They might help her forget her lack of inches, they m
Being Yours BOOK 8
Alex woke in the early hours of the morning, uncomfortably aware of the throbbing in her ankle. For the briefest moment she wondered where she was, but then everything came flooding back to her as she reached out and switched on the bedside light. Seeing pills and water on the table, she realized that Matt must have come into the room while she was asleep, and she was filled with embarrassment at the thought of such an intimate action. Somehow her plan to work hard and play hard while keeping all emotional involvement at bay seemed to be falling about her ears before it had even begun.With a sigh she swallowed the painkillers and, recognizing that she was unlikely to fall asleep again very quickly, used her one good arm to plump up the pillows behind her head. She looked around the room. All the furniture was carved pine, and the sprigged and ruffled curtains and bedcovers reflected the cream and blue bathroom, as did the square rug on the pale, tiled floor. It was a pretty room with
Being Yours BOOK 8
Christina was in a bad mood when she returned Alex to her apartment an hour later.“I don’t understand why you must stay here when you could stay with me and I could look after you,” she complained.Alex smiled at her ill humor. “The doctor said I was fine, that I just need to rest my ankle for a week or so. He even said that I have to thank Matt for providing exactly the right treatment; so the best way that I can do that is to stay here and get on with my work. And it won’t be a problem. The apartment is all on one level, so I won’t have to strain my ankle; plus, I have enough food in the cupboards to last at least a week.”Although Cristina disapproved of the plan, she could see from the expression on Alex’s face that she had made up her mind, so she changed tack. “In that case I will visit you every day so that I can check on your recovery and make sure that you are eating properly.”“You’re a dear!” Alex told her, leaning heavily on her arm as she carefully inched her way down th
Being Yours BOOK 8
On the sixth day of Alex’s forced incarceration, Conchita arrived as usual, except that this time she was hidden behind an enormous bouquet of flowers. A surprised Alex took it from her, wondering, for one heart-stopping moment, if it was from Matt. She had tried not to mind the fact that he hadn’t once telephoned to see how she was. Common sense told her that he was busy and that, anyway, Conchita would keep him up to date with her progress, so she was surprised at how disappointed she felt when she saw that the flowers were from Francesco Pascual. The writing on the accompanying card was black and bold and full of flattery as well as good wishes for a speedy recovery. He had printed his phone number under a flamboyant signature.“He came to the office to invite you to lunch,” Conchita explained with a twinkle in her eye. “So naturally I was forced to tell him about your injuries, and within two hours he had delivered this to your desk with strict instructions that it should be conve
Being Yours BOOK 8
Alex was still in her robe when Conchita telephoned early the next morning to tell her that Matt and Rufino were both free at eleven o’clock and would come to meet with her. She gave an inward groan as they scheduled a meeting. Although she wasn’t going to admit it to Conchita, she was very definitely the worse for wear this morning, the result of foolishly drinking coffee far too late in the evening and then not getting enough sleep. She glanced at the clock above the kitchen counter. Ten o’clock. That didn’t give her much time to get ready.She hurried into the shower and, in an attempt to wake herself up, let the water splash over her until it began to run cold. Then she pulled on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt and twisted her wet hair into a tight topknot. A quick glance in the mirror assured her that, despite her late night, she didn’t look too bad. Eating and working outside over the past week had tanned her skin to a smooth golden brown, so she needed only a dab of blusher
Being Yours BOOK 8
For the next few days Alex reverted to working long hours. Once she had scanned in her hand-drawn visuals, she concentrated on tidying them up. When she was satisfied, she started to develop some of her other ideas. She also started to contact Matt’s suppliers to arrange appointments for the following week, when she was sure that her ankle would be sufficiently strong for her to return to the office.Overall she was pleased with how things were going. Although she was used to working on deadline, she couldn’t remember another project where her ideas had flowed so smoothly. She was eager now to return to the Alcaszar and irritated that she couldn’t yet because of her damaged ankle. She was determined to buy herself some sneakers. Those and a pair of flat, sturdy sandals would be far more sensible than the high heels she normally wore, except in the evenings, of course.The thought prompted an image of Francesco, and she sighed. He telephoned her every day, sometimes twice a day, and wh
Being Yours BOOK 8
When Francesco’s car horn sounded outside the apartment at eight o’clock, Alex picked up her evening bag, took a final look at herself in the mirror, and then sashayed down the path, fully aware that she looked her very best. This was reflected in Francesco’s eyes as he held open the car door.“Such a beautiful senorita,” he murmured, his fingers lingering just a little too long on her back as he helped her into the ridiculously low bucket seat of his sports car.Alex smiled as she watched him walk around to the driver’s door. After their recent argument, to say nothing of the mortifying incident of the towel, she had determined, once and for all, to put any thought of Matt right out of her mind and enjoy herself. To that end, she had treated herself to a single glass of wine while she waited for Francesco to arrive, hoping that it would help her relax.Although fjie journey to Playa de las Americas was still pretty hair-raising, Francesco did tone it down slightly, so that when they
Being Yours BOOK 8
When they pulled up outside her apartment, Alex gave Matt a tremulous smile. She felt more composed now, although from time to time panic still shuddered through her at the thought of what might have happened without his intervention.He returned her smile. “Give me your key, and I’ll unlock the door and switch on the lights.”Obediently she reached for her evening bag and rummaged for her set of keys. They weren’t there. She upended the bag onto her lap and desperately sorted through the contents, pushing her purse and lipstick to one side, inspecting a packet of tissues, moving a half-eaten tube of mints. Nothing! Not a single key!Matt turned on the interior light as she scrabbled on the floor in case the keys had fallen out of her bag when she got into the car. Finally she had to admit defeat. “I can’t find them,” she said, tears dangerously close to the surface again. “I know I put them in my bag when I set out.”Hearing the wobble in her voice, Matt didn’t say anything that woul
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