The Brazilian Millionaire's Love-Child by Anne Mather Page A

teeth clenched, and for a moment he wondered if she was just a figment of his imagination. But, no, she was there, her feet ankle-deep in the frothing water.
    She wasn’t aware that she was no longer alone. He’d allowed the SUV to coast the last few yards to where he parked, and the dunes muffled everything but the roar of the ocean. In shorts and a sleeveless vest, she was evidently not expecting to meet anyone. Perfect, he thought firmly. He’d wanted to catch her unprepared.
    ‘Hi,’ he said when he was near enough to speak without raising his voice, but she started anyway. ‘Thinking of going for a swim?’
    Isobel’s hands came together at her waist. ‘No,’ she said quickly, glancing back towards the villa. Then, as if the thought had just occurred to her, ‘Do you live here?’
    Alejandro’s lips twisted. ‘No.’
    ‘So did you stay the night?’
    ‘Oh, please.’ He swept back his hair with a careless hand, regarding her incredulously. ‘Anita is my mother-in-law, not my lover.’
    ‘Are you sure she feels the same way?’
    The words were out before Isobel could prevent them, and she felt a moment’s panic when his hands clenched into fists at his sides. What did she know about this manreally? Despite that distant intimacy, he was as much a stranger to her now as Anita.
    And yet…
    ‘Does it matter?’ His words arrested her troubled thoughts. Amber eyes darkened perceptibly. ‘Are you jealous, cara ?’ His mouth took on a sensual curve. ‘I must admit, it is an eventuality I had not considered.’
    ‘In your dreams!’
    Isobel’s face flushed with colour and her eyes flashed in indignation. And Alejandro felt a frustrating twinge of guilt for making fun of her that way.
    With the sun clearing the horizon, he thought how absurdly innocent she looked, her face free of any make-up, her lips parted and trembling. She was wearing pink this morning, and the clinging fabric of her vest exposed her nipples in minute detail. He doubted she was wearing a bra. In fact, he was sure she wasn’t. And against his will—much against his will, he told himself grimly—he felt an unfamiliar hardening between his legs.
    She turned now, evidently intent on putting some space between them, but he couldn’t let her go like this. ‘Wait,’ he said, his fingers circling her upper arm as she would have hurried away. ‘We need to talk, Isobella. Or are you going to continue with this pretence that you and I had never met before last evening?’
    ‘I didn’t start the pretence. You did,’ Isobel countered, looking pointedly at his hand gripping her arm, and then up again into his dark face.
    Alejandro frowned. He had to concede that she was right. He had made no attempt to tell Anita about that distant affair, and, although he’d been prepared for their meeting the night before, he hadn’t taken into account how he would really feel when he saw her again.
    ‘Esta bem,’ he said shortly. ‘All right. But would youhave rather brought up the subject of our daughter’s paternity with Anita looking on? I think not. I think you were—how do they say?—shocked out of your mind when you saw me. And not just because of my changed appearance.’
    ‘You’re wrong!’
    Isobel could feel the panic rising inside her. And she didn’t honestly know why. Except that Alejandro’s words threatened to expose her weakness. But Emma was her daughter, not his.
    ‘Am I?’ Patently he didn’t believe her, and she hastened on.
    ‘Naturally I was surprised to see you. I had no idea you and Senhora Silveira were related.’
    Alejandro’s mouth compressed. ‘Now, that I can believe.’
    ‘It’s true.’
    Isobel drew an unsteady breath. She wasn’t handling this at all well, and it didn’t help that the disturbing contrast between the dark fingers gripping her arm and her pale flesh was causing goose bumps down her spine.
    If only she wasn’t so aware of him. If only being this near to him didn’t arouse memories