A Touch of Notoriety. Кэрол Мортимер
what?’ Beth chose to ignore his no doubt deliberate use of that name. This time…
‘Then I might have reason to prove to you just how much of a robot I am not!’
Beth looked up at him searchingly, wishing—not for the first time today—that his piercing blue eyes weren’t hidden behind those damned sunglasses. Although perhaps not—no doubt his gaze would be as razor-sharp as his tone…
‘Is that supposed to scare me?’ she prompted lightly.
It was now possible to feel the laser-sharpness of his gaze through those protective shades. ‘There are far more…enjoyable ways of subduing a disobedient woman than scaring her,’ he drawled softly.
Beth felt a shiver of reaction down the length of her spine. Not of fear, but of arousal…
Which was the real reason she constantly felt the need to challenge this man, of course. She had never been so physically aware of another man in the way she was of Raphael Cordoba. Of those arrogant good looks. And the sheer power of that muscled body beneath those perfectly tailored designer suits. Even the way Raphael smelt, sandalwood and lemon and pure healthy male, was enough to put all of her senses on alert. So much so that Beth was usually aware of his presence in a room before she even saw him. It was not a comfortable feeling for a woman who had believed, until she met this arrogant Argentinian, that she was cool and sophisticated when it came to her reaction to men.
Hot and bothered more accurately described her reaction to Raphael Cordoba!
‘“Subduing a disobedient woman”?’ Beth gave him a derisive glance. ‘Do you have to behave quite so much the Neanderthal?’
He gave a tight, humourless smile. ‘I assure you, no woman has ever had reason to complain about my…methods of securing their submission.’
Beth would just bet they hadn’t! The man was sexual seduction on two long sexy legs, so what was there to complain about?
Plenty, when Beth really didn’t want to hear about the other women Raphael had been involved with.
‘Then more fool them,’ she snapped disgustedly before turning on her heel and striding off in the direction of Cesar’s apartment.
All the time aware of Raphael as he continued to follow two steps behind her.
Just as she was also aware, by the tingling sensation quivering down the length of her spine, that those piercing blue eyes were now levelled intently on the gentle sway of her denim-clad hips and backside as she walked in front of him…
CHAPTER TWO
‘OH BUT—’
‘I think we should let Gab—Beth go back to England if that is what she wishes to do,’ Cesar gently interrupted his mother as she would have voiced her protest to Beth’s reminder that she was due to fly home tomorrow.
He surprised Beth with that support; she had felt sure that the arrogant Cesar would be just as opposed to the idea of her going back to England tomorrow as his parents obviously were. Maybe Grace’s more reasonable attitude was having a beneficial influence on the man, after all!
Beth smiled her gratitude across the luncheon table at him. ‘Thank you, Cesar.’
He nodded. ‘Raphael will accompany you, of course.’ A premature gratitude, obviously! ‘I don’t think so—’
‘And I will arrange for you to fly back in the private jet—’
‘Stop right there, Cesar!’ Beth bristled just at the mention of bodyguards and private jets. An indignation that only deepened as she saw the mocking smile curving Raphael Cordoba’s chiselled mouth as he appeared to be on watchful guard outside in the hallway—while obviously listening to their conversation. ‘I have a perfectly good return ticket booked on the commercial flight back to England tomorrow—’
‘Carlos…!’ A distressed Esther looked at her husband appealingly.
‘Perhaps it might be better if you were to accept Cesar’s offer,’ Carlos Navarro reasoned gently.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m really not comfortable doing that.’ Beth grimaced apologetically. ‘And I certainly don’t want or need Raphael to accompany me anywhere—’
‘Be reasonable, Beth…’ Grace interrupted quietly but firmly even as she touched Beth’s hand cajolingly.
‘I am being reasonable.’ Beth knew that she sounded, and no doubt appeared, childishly mulish rather than reasonable. ‘No one else but the people seated around this table—and Raphael—’ she shot him an impatient glance as she saw that mocking smile had now become a smirk ‘—is even aware that you all think I’m Gabriela—’
‘We know that you are, honey.’ Esther smiled across at her warmly.
Beth swallowed down the emotional lump that had formed in her throat at the unconditional love she saw shining in the older woman’s eyes. ‘Yes. Well. As you know, I still have difficulty accepting that.’ She avoided meeting any of their gazes as she stared down at the dining table, totally unable to deal with the hope she knew was shining in Carlos’s and Esther’s eyes, the censure in Cesar’s, the understanding in Grace’s, let alone the mockery she knew she would see in Raphael’s piercing blue eyes now that he was no longer wearing those dark glasses. ‘Until Cesar can supply me with further proof, I’m still Beth Blake as far as I’m concerned. And Beth Blake has a home and a job in England to go back to,’ she added firmly.
Cesar scowled darkly. ‘I assumed when you said you wished to go back to England that it was only so that you might close up the house there and deal with any other affairs—such as resigning from your place of work—before flying back here.’
‘Why on earth would you have assumed that?’ Beth gave a pained frown. ‘I worked hard to get my degree, and I love my job, so why would I want to give that up?’
‘Possibly because you are Gabriela Navarro, and as such have no reason to work?’ Cesar grated harshly.
‘Even if you do prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m Gabriela—’
‘We already have.’
‘I will still refuse to sit around here like some pampered poodle—’ Beth broke off as she heard a snort of what she was sure was laughter from the direction of the hallway. Nor was she convinced otherwise by the bland expression on Raphael Cordoba’s face when she gave him a long, suspicious glance before turning slowly back to frown at Cesar. ‘I wasn’t brought up to sit around painting my toenails—’
‘Oh, I feel sure a “pampered poodle” would pay someone else to paint their toenails,’ Cesar snapped.
‘You aren’t helping the situation, Cesar,’ Grace cut in with soft reproof.
His expression softened as he smiled down at the woman he loved. But that smile faded as he turned back to Beth. ‘I am sure that Grace would rather you remained here and helped her with the arrangements for the wedding.’
‘Raphael already tried the sister approach,’ Beth told him wearily.
‘And?’
‘And of course I’ll come back for the wedding; I am the chief bridesmaid, after all. But, in the meantime, Grace has Esther to help with those arrangements.’ The latter was an argument she knew Cesar had no answer to. His mother was in her element with the arrangements for his wedding to Grace. ‘Which leaves me free to return to my life and job in England until a few days before the wedding.’
Cesar breathed impatiently down his nose. ‘Perhaps we might…compromise, in that you agree to take a month’s leave of absence from your place of work to come back here—’
‘A month’s leave of absence?’ Beth repeated incredulously as she sat up straighter in her chair. ‘Asking for this week’s holiday just after I had started