The truth of what had happened that morning—that instead of savoring the victory of having Calandra finally offer him what he wanted, he’d run away like a damnedpollo—had clung to him like a shroud. The stronger the rain had pounded against the window of his office, the blacker his mood had grown. To the point that when Javier had asked in that brisk, holier-than-thou tone if Alejandro would prefer to continue their review at a later date, he hadn’t hesitated to say yes.
Javier had blinked, eyes so round with surprise he’d reminded Alejandro of an owl.
“What?”
“I saidsí.”
“But—”
“We both know you’ll make the decisions in the end, Javier, especially if you get your way Saturday night. So,” he continued, ignoring his father’s gaping mouth, “if you don’t mind, I have something more important to deal with.”
Slamming the computer screen shut on Javier’s face had been gratifying and fortified him for the long trek through the villa to the guest quarters.
And now he stood there, waiting to see which Calandra would open the door. The cold, efficient planner? The passionate lover? Or the vulnerable woman who hid so well behind her wall of ice?
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. A couple days ago, everything had seemed so simple. But he’d been so focused on getting her to see him that he hadn’t thought about what getting to know her would do to him. To be reminded not just of their mind-numbing, body-tingling sexual heat, but of the rapport they’d unknowingly developed over the years.
Knowing her better, seeing the woman who cared about supporting a small culinary school and who would fight tooth and nail for her baby, and feeling the urge to share more and more of himself, placed him at a crossroads. He was free-falling into an intoxicating, terrifying emotional tangle he’d never experienced before.
The temptation to go to one of Marseille’s lavish clubs, imbibe too many cocktails and leave with some beautiful dancer who would make him forget the last twenty-four hours had been strong last night. But when he thought about actually kissing another woman, touching someone else after what he’d shared with Calandra, he couldn’t do it.
He didn’t want to seduce just for the sake of physical pleasure. Not anymore. He wanted something more. If someone were to ask him what, he wouldn’t be able to answer. Not yet.
Calandra was at the crux of all this confusion. Maybe more time would not only get him what he wanted in regard to their child, but some answers for this web of feelings he’d become ensnared in.
A shuffling came from behind the door. A moment later a click sounded, and the door swung open.
“Alejandro?”
He didn’t even bother trying to hide his stare. In loose linen pants and a seashell-pink tank top, hair unbound and flowing over her shoulders, she looked stunning. The shirt brought out the faintest rosiness in her cheeks. She wore no makeup, no battle paint slashed across her eyelids or bloodred stain on her lips that made women eye her with envy and men with desire and intimidation.
This was Calandra at her rawest. And he couldn’t stop looking.
“Is everything all right?” she asked hesitantly.
“You’re wearing color.”
She glanced down with a frown. “Yes. My usual pants are a little tight. My sister insisted on helping me pack before I flew out and must have snuck them into my suitcase.” She tugged at the shirt hem. “The last time I let her do that.”
“You look beautiful.” Her eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth. He held up his hand. “Just take the compliment.”
She stared at him for a moment, then inclined her head toward him. “Thank you.”
He bit back a grin.
“Would you like to take a walk with me?”
She eyed his outstretched hand with uncertainty. “A walk?”
“Yes. You move one foot in front of the other and—”
“Thank you.” She shook her head. “You’ll fit right in with a child since you have the humor of one.”
His heart beat a little faster. After last night, he’d been certain that their heated encounter on the yacht had done anything but convince her he was father material. He’d never been good at waiting, had wanted to press her for an answer, but he didn’t. This was by far the most important thing he had ever wanted. It was worth a little patience.
The most important thing?
He pondered that for a moment, held the thought in his hand and weighed being a father against maintaining control over Cabrera Shipping.