His mouth closed over hers, warm, hungry, possessive. She could feel her own unbidden response, the unfurling deep within as he drew her close in against him.
When he lifted his head it was all she could do to meet the dark intentness of his gaze, and she felt her lips tremble as he gently rubbed his thumb back and forth across the kiss-swollen curves.
One hand traced a path down her neck to trail the edge of her silk robe, parting it to slip inside and caress the full curve of her breast. ‘What did the obstetrician have to say?’
How did she answer that? With extreme care, a tiny voice warned. ‘He reassured me that the baby is fine.’
Her breasts felt heavy, their peaks taut and aching. It wasn’t the only part of her that ached. Dammit, how could her body react in such a traitorous fashion?
His eyes seared hers, dark and analytical, almost as if he knew precisely what had happened and was waiting for her to tell him.
Could the obstetrician have called him? The possibility wouldn’t surprise her. ‘I—suffered a bout of morning sickness.’ She paused, then made a light attempt at humour. ‘In the middle of the afternoon.’ She was not such a good actress that Alejandro would be fooled for long. ‘I had another memory flash.’ It was an extension of the truth. ‘It shook me up a little.’
‘Poor niña,’ Alejandro soothed, brushing his lips against her temple. ‘If you don’t feel up to dinner tonight, I will contact André and have him meet me at a restaurant.’
‘No,’ Elise said quickly, adding, ‘Ana has gone to a lot of trouble.’ She didn’t want to wake in the depths of night when he slid into bed and reached for her.
She wanted a confrontation. Dammit, she wanted to launch a full-scale war against him. But not when they had a guest due to arrive for dinner in—how long? Less than an hour?
‘Shouldn’t we get ready?’
Alejandro drew back and gave her a rueful smile. ‘I need to shower and shave.’
The dress she had bought was a slim-fitting sheath in a brilliant red uncrushable viscose and linen mix, its hemline resting just above the knee. A clever panel of red beaded embroidery elevated the simple design to the glamorous, and matching beaded shoes completed an ensemble that shrieked a top Australian label.
Alejandro entered the bedroom as she put the finishing touches to her make-up, and with practised ease he attended to the hook on her bra, then assisted her into the dress. The long zip-fastener slid home, and she slowly turned to face him.
‘Stunning,’ he pronounced, his eyes gleaming with indolent appreciation as they roved over her slim curves. ‘Do you need help with your hair?’
‘I thought I’d wear it loose.’
She crossed to the dressing-table and caught up her brush, stroking the length of her hair until it shone. Ear-rings were too difficult to attach with one hand, so she discarded the idea.
André Valery was a tall, handsome man in his late thirties, charming, with Gallic appreciation for the opposite sex.
‘I have been looking forward to meeting the woman who managed to slip beneath Alejandro’s armour.’ He lifted his glass in salute. ‘I congratulate you.’
Dinner was a success, for not only had Ana excelled herself with superb culinary offerings, but the delicate baiting each man indulged in bore the stamp of a long friendship.
‘You realise our fathers were business associates? Oui. It is true. For some years we spent holidays together. Gstaad. St Moritz. One year Alejandro was packed off to join my family in Paris.’ His eyes twinkled with wicked humour. ‘We were young, gregarious, and, I think, a little too adventurous for our own good.’
‘Don’t indulge in tales, André,’ Alejandro drawled, ‘or I may feel compelled to relay a few of my own to Anne-Marie when next I see her.’
‘Anne-Marie,’ André returned, with a Gallic shrug, ‘is in no doubt as to what manner of man I am.’
‘Are you about to destroy my illusions?’ Elise queried lightly, and incurred his slight smile. His eyes, however, assumed inscrutability.
‘What illusions do you refer to, chérie?’
‘That you might be an exception to most successful men and have chosen not to have both wife and mistress?’
André’s gaze didn’t waver, and she met it fearlessly, aware of the sudden stillness in the room. ‘If a man values his family, and his wife meets his needs,’ he offered quite gently, ‘why would there be the necessity for him to take a mistress?’
She was stepping into dangerous territory, but she didn’t care. ‘The challenge it represents, perhaps? Excitement?’ She managed a careless shrug. ‘Would you consider it fair for a wife to expect her needs also to be met?’
Alejandro’s voice was pure silk. ‘You are lodging a subtle complaint, querida?’
It took all her acting ability, but she managed a light incredulous laugh. ‘How could I begin to fault you?’ She reached out a placating hand, and sat quite still as he took hold of it and raised her fingers to his lips.
It was a deliberate gesture, and she glimpsed the dark gleam in his eyes, a watchfulness that sent warning flares licking the taut edge of her nerves.
He knew. Perhaps not precisely when her memory had returned, but there was no doubt he was aware that she had experienced a total recall.
‘Shall we adjourn to the lounge for coffee?’ Alejandro suggested smoothly.
Somehow Elise managed to get through the rest of the evening. If André sensed that her conversation was a little too bright, he gave no indication.
‘You must excuse me,’ André said at last. ‘It is late, and I must return to my hotel.’ He crossed to her side. ‘Thank you for a most enjoyable evening.’ He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, then held it a fraction longer than was necessary. ‘Alejandro must bring you to Paris,’ he said gently. ‘It would give Anne-Marie much pleasure.’
‘Indeed,’ Alejandro concurred as they moved through to the front of the house.
Elise turned away from the door the instant the car’s tail-lights cleared the gates, acutely conscious of Alejandro’s actions as he re-set the alarm system.
Apprehension prickled at the back of her neck as she made for the stairs. The anger that had lain dormant since this afternoon rose to the fore, darkening her eyes and reining her mouth into a firm line.
Entering the bedroom, she slipped off her shoes, then reached for the zip-fastening at the back of her dress.
Alejandro came into the room as she began a third fruitless attempt to slide the fastener down, and she didn’t utter a word as he crossed to complete the task.
With extreme care she stepped out of the dress and placed it over a nearby chair, watching out of the corner of her eye as he discarded his jacket and removed his tie.
‘When did it happen?’
His voice was quiet, deadly, and she turned slowly to face him, unwilling to prevaricate.
Eyes as dark as onyx were filled with a chilling intensity, and her chin tilted fractionally as she prepared to oppose him.
‘This afternoon. In the obstetrician’s waiting-room.’ Her eyes sparked with green fire. ‘A photograph of Savannah in a magazine acted as the trigger, giving me total recollection in slow motion.’
His expression darkened fractionally, and he reached out a hand, catching hold of her chin between thumb and forefinger, tightening his grasp