Alej almost smiled. He’d forgotten the English penchant for understatement, just as he’d forgotten how Emily’s cool beauty had the ability to ignite something deep inside him. It always had. He hadn’t seen her in eight years, yet the lust which was pulsing through his body was as powerful as it had been when he’d met her way back when. Back then, she had been forbidden fruit for all kinds of reasons. Too young, for a start—even before you factored in that she was the stepdaughter of his mother’s employer and that nobody in their right mind would dare mess around with the boss’s family.
But desire was a powerful driver. It had eaten him up from the inside out. Plagued and tormented him like a fever, so that he’d had to work extra hard to concentrate on the polo which had always consumed him and had promised a route out of the poverty into which he’d been born. And wasn’t the truth that Emily hadn’t been like the other girls who hung around the polo field with their breasts practically falling out of their shirts? An out-and-out tomboy, she’d somehow made him feel stuff. Stuff he wasn’t used to feeling, which had made him want to buy her flowers and brush her hair in the moonlight and tell her that her skin was paler than the stars. He’d thought it had been the same for her—that she had reciprocated his see-sawing emotions during those long months of stolen kisses and furtive embraces before he had finally made love to her.
His groin hardened. Because of her innocence and relative youth he had employed an uncharacteristic restraint around Emily Green. It had almost killed him to hold off until her eighteenth birthday, though in the end they had missed it by a day because they just couldn’t wait any longer. Never had a sexual build-up been so exquisitely slow or sweetly torturous, so that when he had finally slipped inside her, he’d come almost as quickly as she had done. He’d been having safe sex with willing partners since the age of sixteen—but nothing could have prepared Alej for his first time with Emily, when he plunged deep into her tight and molten heat. The only time, he reminded himself bitterly, before forcing his attention back to the present and the sapphire-blue eyes which were regarding him with a curiosity which was somehow adding to his frustration and long-suppressed anger.
‘It was, as you say—an unfavourable piece,’ he conceded, his temperate tone at odds with his turbulent thoughts. ‘But, unfortunately, mud sticks and she told a lot of lies about me.’
She tilted her head to one side, so that her thick blonde plait fell forward and lay enticingly against the firm thrust of her breasts. ‘What kind of lies?’
‘What man would wish to list their supposed transgressions to another woman? Why don’t you just read the book for yourself?’ There was a pause. ‘And in the meantime, I could make sure that Joya is taken care of.’
Her attention was momentarily distracted as she watched a lizard slithering its way across the decking before looking up at him.
‘That’s a very generous offer,’ she said uncertainly.
‘Which obviously isn’t motivated simply by my love of horses.’
‘No?’
He shook his head and gave a glimmer of a smile. ‘Of course not. I expect to extract a reward for my benevolence.’
Behind the smile an undeniable threat was underpinning his words and as Emily stared into his eyes she felt a sudden chill whisper its way over her skin. If she hadn’t been so worried and in such a helpless position about helping Joya, she wouldn’t have needed to ask the question, but the reality was that she did. ‘What kind of “reward” did you have in mind?’
The slow smile he flicked her was tinged with sensual promise, but the words which followed were the last thing Emily was expecting to hear.
‘You work in public relations, don’t you?’
She blinked. ‘How did you know that?’
‘It wasn’t difficult. I did a little research, before you arrived. Your reputation is modest, but it’s growing. I read nothing but good things about you.’ There was a brief pause. ‘So how about you come and work for me, as my PR representative?’
‘You don’t have one at the moment?’
‘Never saw the need.’ He shrugged. ‘But if you can polish my tarnished image for me, then we’ll call it quits.’
‘But why?’ Her brow creased into a frown. ‘I mean, why do you suddenly care what people think about you when you never did before?’
He didn’t answer for a moment and when he did his voice was reflective. ‘Because I’m thinking of throwing my hat into the political ring and my current reputation will do me no favours. If you can make this bad-boy billionaire into a respectable member of polite society, I will reward you very handsomely.’
Emily stared at him. Was he actually offering her a job? Asking her to create a squeaky-clean image for him, which would involve her delving into aspects of his life which made her feel ill just thinking about them? She couldn’t do it. In fact, she wouldn’t do it. You could only ever take a job like this if you were properly impartial and impartiality was the last thing she felt towards the Argentinian billionaire.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think you realise how my kind of business operates, Alejandro,’ she said. ‘I can’t suddenly start working exclusively for you—even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I have commitments.’
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His hand sliced through the air with that same impatient gesture. ‘I’m not interested in the detail. I’ve told you what I want, so make it happen. Leave your job if necessary.’
‘Leave my job?’ Her lips fell open. ‘I’m in partnership with a friend from uni. That’s just not possible.’
‘Anything is possible, Emily,’ he bit out. ‘We both know that. We live in a world where a poor illegitimate boy can rise up the greasy pole to have more money than he knows what to do with.’
She shook her head. ‘Find someone else, Alejandro. There are plenty of public relations officers who are of an equally high standard who would bite your hand off to get this kind of job.’
‘But they aren’t you,’ he said silkily. ‘Are you haggling with me because you want to obtain the highest price for your services—is that what this is all about? In which case, let me tell you something which might influence your opinion.’
He mentioned a sum of money which took her breath away. Emily dug her fingers into the arms of the wicker chair and levered herself up, needing to get away from his distracting gaze as she tried to process the offer he’d just made her. That was a lot of money. Walking over to the edge of the veranda, she stared out at the lush Argentinian landscape and the cotton-wool clouds which were billowing up on the horizon.
She knew she ought to refuse because only a fool would accept—given their history. She’d hurt him for no reason other than that she’d been scared. But she had reasons for being tempted by the money—and not just because her embryo PR business could do with a financial cushion. And there was Great-Aunt Jane to think about—her only living relative who Emily kept a tender eye on as often as she could. Because her pension was tiny, wasn’t it? She had become one of those old people who were scared of the future because they weren’t quite sure if they would have enough money to fund whatever lay ahead. Wouldn’t it be great if she could take away some of her worries by presenting her with a generous cheque?