A Spanish Awakening

Things like family tradition and pride. How would divorce have gone down? In many ways the Rios family had not moved on very far from the Dark Ages, and they didn’t do divorce. When it came to pride the Rios family had a lot more than their fair share.

For the first time she found herself wondering just how mutual the divorce had really been. Had it in reality been forced on him?

She flashed a speculative look at Emilio’s profile, wondering if he too had been anticipating a passionate reconciliation?

‘I thought marriage to you would have put her off the institution for life! It’s almost as much of a mystery as why she married you in the first place.’

‘Is it?’ he said, looking at her mouth.

The insolent scrutiny made Megan shift uneasily in her seat. ‘She seems quite sane.’

He continued to stare at her mouth until, unable to bear it a second longer, Megan yelled, ‘Will you keep your eyes on the road?’ They were stopped at a set of lights. ‘And nobody gets married to someone because they are a good kisser, if that’s what you’re implying.’

‘I am relieved you noticed. Actually, my talents extend beyond kissing.’

Megan dragged a hand jerkily down the front of her blouse, growing more agitated by the second. ‘I really don’t want to know!’ she choked, dropping the pretence of an amused façade.

Her directive stemmed the flow of details, but not the flow of visual examples of his talent slipping through her head.

‘I should have waited for a taxi,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘God alone knows why I got in a car with you.’

‘Possibly because you were hoping I’d kiss you again?’

Her slender shoulder lifted in a shrug and she sneered, ‘No audience here, so I feel safe.’

He lifted one shoulder, but admitted modestly, ‘I am not the exhibitionist you appear to think. I actually do some of my best work in private.’

His deep, throaty drawl sent Megan’s imagination into free fall. She gasped as shameful heat flooded the sensitive juncture between her legs. ‘Not with me!’ she retorted as she pressed a button to open the window, pressing it again with a certain amount of desperation when it did not immediately respond.

‘We do have air conditioning, you know.’

Megan stuck her head out of the window and breathed deeply. ‘It’s not working.’ She found it extremely doubtful that a cold shower would have worked for her at that moment.

She was bewildered and alarmed by the ease with which he could arouse her physically. It was bizarre, but the excitement in her veins seemed to grow in direct proportion to the antagonism she felt towards him.

Emilio shifted gears and the powerful monster he drove shot forward, straining at the leash as the traffic began to move once more. He felt some sympathy for the machine’s frustration; his libido was straining at the leash.

‘You know what they say, querida—never say never.’ His sideways glance touched her heaving bosom. ‘You gave every appearance of enjoying yourself when you kissed me.’ Her response had delighted him.

‘That was not a kiss.’

‘It was not? ‘

Megan chewed fretfully at her full lower lip and stared stubbornly out of the window. ‘It was … a reflex,’ she retorted in a driven voice.

‘Indeed. I can only say that you have the best … reflexes of any woman I have ever come across.’

The window beckoned again.

When she pulled her head back in she pushed the mesh of hair from her eyes and observed with a spite that was totally uncharacteristic for her, ‘I should have told Rosanna that, far from being an item—like anyone is going to believe that,’ she inserted with a scornful sniff. ‘I can’t stand the sight of you!’

‘Is it such a good idea to allow this to become personal? ‘

Megan stared at his patrician profile in disbelief. Was the man for real? ‘It already is personal. It got personal the moment you k … k … you kissed me! ‘

‘I too have excellent reflexes.’

Lips compressed, she directed her gaze on her hands clenched primly in her lap, thinking, Do not go there, Megan. ‘I just bet you do,’ she snarled, watching her knuckles blench white.

She flashed him a look of exasperation. ‘Is it so impossible for you to believe that I can’t stand the sight of you?’

‘I believe that your reaction to me is not mild, and neither, for the record, is mine to you.’ Before she could analyse the message within his cryptic utterance he continued,

‘But I was referring to your comment … something along the lines of—“like anyone would believe that.” Why would anyone not believe that we are lovers?’

Megan slung him an irritated look. ‘I have a brain and I like to be exclusive. Also I look nothing like a Barbie doll.’

‘Ouch! So much for sisterly solidarity! You really should not judge by appearances, Megan.’

‘You’re right, I’m the superficial one.’

His grin flashed and her own smile faded. It would be an exaggeration to call the spiky atmosphere warm, but she was conscious that a worrying element of intimacy had developed.

Megan could have done without knowing he could laugh at himself; it made despising him all the more of a struggle. She needed out of this car and fast! God only knew what had possessed her to get in to begin with.

Like you don’t know?

Ignoring the unhelpful contribution of the knowing voice in her head, she cut short the inner dialogue and said, ‘Look, you can drop me at the first hotel we pass, if that’s not a problem?’ If it was a problem she could always jump out of the moving vehicle. It could not be a more painful experience than this conversation.

‘Without feeding you first?’ He shook his dark head in reproach.

‘That really isn’t necessary. I ate breakfast,’ she lied brightly. ‘And it isn’t lunchtime.’ She glanced at her watch and realised it was barely nine-thirty. It felt as though she had been in the car for hours.

His dark brows twitched into a straight line above his hawkish nose. ‘You are very hung up with time,’ he drawled.

‘And you must be a very unique billionaire businessman if you have time to snack and watch the grass grow,’ she retorted tartly.

‘I work, but I am not a slave to routine.’

‘Congratulations on being a free spirit, but I’m still not hungry.’

‘You think your time would be put to better use counting the minutes until the planes start flying again? You’re stuck here—I suggest you make the most of it. Madrid is a beautiful city, though being a native I must admit to some prejudice on the subject,’ he conceded with a fluid shrug. ‘Do you like architecture, history …?’

‘Why—are you offering to be my guide?’ She leaned back in her seat and thought, Gotcha, as she wondered how long it would take him to discover a very full diary.

It might amuse Emilio Rios to buy her breakfast, he might even feel he was obliged to do so because of her manipulative parent’s request to look after her, but spending an entire day with her would definitely not be his idea of an efficient use of his time.

‘Why not?’