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BOOK 8
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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
Being Yours BOOK 8
Alex woke to the sound of a heavy thud outside her bedroom window. It was followed by angry voices, and she hurriedly stumbled out of bed and, for a second time that night, peered through a slat in the blinds.Two men were walking away from the apartment, and the taller of the two appeared to have the other in a viselike grip. When they reached the pavement, he opened the door of a car that was parked at the side of the road and bundled his victim inside. Alex had a brief view of both men as the interior light came on. One was short and dark and looked vaguely familiar. The other was Matt!She rubbed her eyes in disbelief and then looked again. There was absolutely no doubt about it. Although she couldn’t see his face, the tilt of his head and the breadth of his shoulders as he stood beside the car were so achingly familiar that she felt weak at the knees. What was he doing outside her apartment at four in the morning? She had seen him drive away at least a couple of hours earlier, an
Being Yours BOOK 8
When Matt woke up, Alex, already dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, was sitting on the balcony enjoying the freshness of the morning and sipping an orange juice. For a long moment he didn’t move. From where he was sitting, he could only see part of her profile and the pale nape of her neck, which looked slender and vulnerable under the curls of her ponytail. It was enough, though, to set his stomach clenching with sudden desire. He snapped his eyes shut. When he opened them again, she had left the balcony and was busying herself at the breakfast bar.“I can only offer toast and fruit,” she said.Damping down his feelings, he uncoiled himself from the sofa with a groan as the effects of a night in the car kicked in. Then he stretched his arms above his head, giving Alex the merest glimpse of a tanned and firm stomach where one of the buttons had come undone on his crumpled shirt. She hurriedly averted her eyes, but not before her breath had caught in her throat. He was beautiful, she deci
Being Yours BOOK 8
Alex made straight for the dining area as soon as they arrived at the Alcaszar. Matt, following more slowly, chuckled when he noticed her scarlet sneakers.“I see you haven’t taken the concept of sensible shoes entirely seriously,” he teased.She flashed him a quick smile but didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her full attention to the dining room. It was a grand affair with high ceilings and the promise of a bright and airy interior once soft pastels and creams transformed the plum-colored walls and pale marble tiling opened up the floor area. An entire wall of folding glass panels looked out onto a balustraded terrace and what had once been an exotic tropical garden.“That needs a canopy,” she said, waving toward the terrace. “People will want to eat outside during the daytime, but it will be too hot without shading. If you use a canopy instead of umbrellas, then everyone will have an uninterrupted view of the gardens, even those diners who prefer to stay indoors.”“But what about t
Being Yours BOOK 8
As Matt had predicted, Alex had very little spare time once the weekend was over.Lost in the confusion of their own thoughts, neither of them had said much as Matt drove her home late on Sunday afternoon. When they arrived, he had carried the laptop inside and then insisted on checking the apartment again in case unwelcome visitors had let themselves in while it was empty. Once he was sure that everything was safe, he had made for the door with a reminder to bolt it behind him and a promise to send a locksmith first thing in the morning. He had also told Alex to telephone him immediately if anyone appeared to be hanging around.“Not that I think even Francesco will try that again,” he said, stifling a yawn.Realizing that after nearly thirty-six hours without sleep he was exhausted, Alex had given him a little push. “Go home,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”“As long as you promise to call if you’re worried,” he insisted.“I promise,” she replied, and then had watched him walk away from he
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