Passionate Protection. PENNY JORDAN
relief made her laugh. ‘Thank goodness for that! I was terrified that we’d have a tearful besotted Latin lover on our hands!’
Just for a moment Jessica compared this image to the reality of Sebastian, and wondered if Jorge was anything like his formidable brother. Probably not. She couldn’t see Sebastian allowing himself to be manipulated in the way she was coming to suspect that Isabel had manipulated Jorge. No, when it came to the woman in his life, Sebastian would be totally in control. Was he married?
‘Jess?’
Stop thinking about him, she chided herself, giving her attention to Colin. She was in Seville to work, not concern herself with the private life of a man who was virtually a stranger. Stranger or not, for those first few pulsating seconds when she had seen Sebastian she had been aware of him in a way that still had the power to shock her. For all his repressive arrogance there was a sensuality about him, a total maleness and a dangerous allure, reminiscent of that of a jungle cat for its prey.
Colin was tired after his flight and it was decided that he would dine in his room and have an early night.
‘Have you been to the exhibition centre yet?’ he asked Jessica. She shook her head. ‘Well, the exhibition doesn’t open until tomorrow. We’ve got an appointment with Calvortex after lunch. Keep your fingers crossed, won’t you?’ he asked her. ‘I’ve done all next season’s designs with their fabrics in mind. If they’re anything like last season’s we’ll be on to a real winner—especially if he gives us the exclusive use of his stuff for the U.K.’
‘How much do you know about them?’ Jessica asked him as they stepped into the hotel foyer.
‘Very little, and most of that word of mouth. The Chairman of the company handpicks his clients, from what I’ve been told. The company is a small family-run business; apart from that I know nothing, except that they produce the sort of fabrics that fill the dreams of every designer worth his or her salt. I’m relieved to hear you’ve sorted out all that business with Isabel,’ he added as they headed for the lift. ‘Tiresome girl! Why should you run round after her?’
‘Well, I won’t have to much longer,’ Jessica told him. ‘She’s got herself engaged.’
‘God help the man!’ was Colin’s pious comment as the lift stopped at their floor.
Their rooms were not adjacent and outside the lift they went their separate ways.
In her own room, Jessica tried to concentrate on the morning and the textile show, but somehow Sebastian de Calvadores’s aquiline features kept coming between her and her work. A hard man and a proud one, and her face burned with colour as she remembered the way he had looked at her, the insulting remarks he had made to her.
She went to bed early, and was just on the point of falling asleep when she heard someone knocking on the door.
‘Jess, are you awake?’ she heard Colin mutter outside. ‘I’ve got the most dreadful indigestion, do you have anything I can take?’
Sighing, she went to her suitcase and found some tablets. If Colin had one fault it was that he was a hopeless hypochondriac and that he refused absolutely to carry even aspirins about with him, preferring instead to play the martyr for the uninitiated. Jessica had got wise to this within her first few months of working for him, and had grown used to carrying what amounted almost to a small pharmacy around with her whenever she travelled with him.
She opened her door and handed him the small packet.
‘You’re an angel!’
Colin bent forward, kissing her cheek lightly, and as he did so out of the corner of her eye Jessica glimpsed the couple walking down the corridor towards them; the woman small and petite with smoothly coiled dark hair and an expensive couture evening gown, her escort tall, with raven’s-wing dark hair and a profile that made Jessica’s heart turn over thuddingly as she stared at him.
Sebastian de Calvadores! What was he doing here, and who was he with?
Her face paled as he stared contemptuously at her, suddenly acutely aware of her thin silk nightgown and tousled hair, Colin’s hand on her arm, his lips brushing her cheek. Her face flamed as she realised what interpretation Sebastian de Calvadores would be placing on their intimacy, and then berated herself for her embarrassment. Why should she care if he thought she and Colin were lovers? What possible business was it of his? And yet his steely glance seemed to say that he knew everything there was to know about her, and that he doubted that her motives for being with Colin were any less altruistic than those he had accredited her with in his brother’s case.
‘Jess, is something wrong?’ Colin asked her with a frown, sensing her lack of attention. ‘You’ve seemed strangely on edge ever since I arrived. It’s that damned cousin of yours, I suppose.’
‘Nothing’s wrong, I’m just a little tired,’ she lied huskily, glad when Sebastian and his companion turned the corner of the corridor. ‘I’ll be fine in the morning.’
CHAPTER THREE
AS A PREDICTION it wasn’t entirely true; Jessica felt strangely on edge and tense, her muscles clenching every time someone walked into the dining room where they were having breakfast.
She would be glad to get back home, she thought wryly as her nerves jumped for the third time in succession at the sight of a dark-haired man. Arrogant brute! He hadn’t even given her an opportunity to explain, denouncing her as though she were some female predator and his brother her completely innocent victim. She thought about what she had learned from Isabel and grimaced slightly. How could her cousin have behaved in such an unprincipled way? She had always had a streak of wildness, a tendency to ignore any attempts to curb her headstrong nature, but to actually try and force Jorge into marriage … And that was what she had done, no matter how one tried to wrap up the truth, Jessica admitted unhappily. Even so, that was no reason for Sebastian de Calvadores to speak to her in the way he had.
‘Time to leave for the exhibition,’ Colin reminded her, dragging her mind back to the real purpose of her visit to Seville.
Half an hour later they were there, both of them lost in admiration of the fabrics on display.
‘Just feel this suede,’ Colin murmured to her. ‘It’s as supple as silk. It makes my fingers itch to use it!’
‘And these tweeds!’ Jessica exclaimed. ‘The wool comes from South America, I believe?’
‘Many Spaniards have family connections in South America,’ Colin reminded her, ‘and I suppose it’s only natural that they should turn those connections to commercial advantage, in this case by importing the wool in its raw state, and dying and weaving it here in Spain.’
He drew Jessica’s attention to the display belonging to the company they were to see. ‘In a class of its own, isn’t it?’ he asked, watching the way she handled the supple fabric. ‘And those colours!’
‘They’re incredibly subtle,’ Jessica agreed with a touch of envy.
On leaving college her first intention had been to find a job in a design capacity with one of the large manufacturers, but such jobs were hard to come by—even harder with the downturn in the textile industry in Britain, and although her languages had stood her in good stead, she had found that without exception the Continental firms preferred to take on their own young graduates. Now working with cloth in its raw stages was only a pipe dream.
There was quite a busy throng around the Calvortex display and it was several minutes before Colin could talk to one of the young men in charge. He explained his purpose in Seville, producing the letters of recommendation he had brought with him, while Jessica swiftly translated.
‘Unfortunately I am merely a member of the staff,’ the young man exclaimed regretfully to Jessica, ‘but I will certainly mention this matter to my superiors. If we have a telephone number where we can reach you?’
Handing him both his card and