Kept By The Spanish Billionaire

‘No need to worry. I phoned the house.’

‘You did what?’

‘Phoned the house.’ Rafael raised his eyebrows in a question. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘What’s the problem?’ Amy digested the image of her best friend chortling at her high jinks with all their friends. ‘What did you say?’ she asked, with less panic in her voice, hoping that he had not seen fit to share each and every detail of the sorry situation that had landed her sleeping in his bed.

‘I said you went out to get some air, lost your way and by the time you showed up at my front door it was too late to send you back and you were exhausted. So I very kindly allowed you to stay the night and would be sending you back to base first thing. Does that meet with your approval?’

‘I can see it doesn’t meet with yours, judging from that tone of voice.’

‘Are you forgetting that you should be grateful to me for getting you out of that tree…?’ He watched as her face blanched.

‘Who did you speak to?’

‘Oh, your boss, of course.’

Horrible man, he turned his back on her and was now staring through the window at what promised to be a dream of a day as far as the weather went.

‘You spoke to James…’

‘Who else?’

‘What did you tell him?’ Amy asked in a small voice.

‘Oh, just that you spent the night roaming the woods with lovelorn heart only to find your beloved in a clinch with another woman, at which point you decided to climb a tree, from whence I was forced to rescue you…’

‘You didn’t!’

‘Of course I didn’t!’ Rafael turned around just in time to catch the pillow that was winging its way in the direction of his head. He patted it back into shape and tossed it on the chair by the window, where it joined all the other assorted bits of paraphernalia that were slowly building up to a veritable mountain of odds and ends.

‘Who do you think she was?’ Amy mused aloud, resting her face thoughtfully in the palm of her hand and gently tapping her front tooth with one absent-minded finger. ‘I mean, she wasn’t one of us…’

‘Your clothes are downstairs. As is breakfast if you want anything to eat. Then you can be on your way.’ Rafael was disconcerted to find his eyes straying to the pointed tips of her breasts nudging the thin fabric of his cotton shirt. He frowned, irritated with himself, and looked at her face. ‘So come on. Up.’

‘Yes, all right. I won’t be in your hair for any longer than is necessary!’

‘I’ll leave your clothes outside the bedroom door. You can have a shower if you want.’ It was already ten in the morning. The woman had wreaked havoc with his working day. He had no intention of prolonging the unwelcome situation. Mind made up, Rafael left her to her own devices, making sure that the clothes were outside the door as promised, just in case she decided to lounge around in his house all day in an attempt to recover from her broken heart, wearing only his shirt. What ever happened to female modesty? He was no prude but he did expect a certain amount of decorum from women. His mind drifted away from the report flickering on the screen in front of him. He imagined her stripping off that shirt in one easy, fluid movement, letting it drop to the floor while she casually walked over it en route to the bathroom.

He frowned and pushed the intrusive thoughts out of his mind, focusing one hundred per cent on his work and only looking up when she padded into the room, fully dressed although barefoot.