an indolent drawl, and Teresa’s face brightened with delight.
‘Thank you.’ She named a luxury hotel in Palma, then turned towards Gianna and offered a conspiratorial smile. ‘It’ll provide an opportunity for you to go shopping.’
Gianna did a quick mental search of the clothes she’d brought with her…and failed to come up with anything suitable to wear.
‘We’ll drive into Palma after breakfast,’ Raúl stated.
We will?
‘I can easily take a taxi,’ she offered sweetly.
‘My dear,’ Teresa intervened gently, ‘Raúl would never permit it.’
The steady look he cast Gianna challenged her to argue. ‘We’ll aim to leave at nine.’
And that, it appeared, put an end to the subject…at least in Teresa’s presence. But not, Gianna determined, until the moment she’d inform him she intended to conduct her shopping expedition solo.
Something which occurred in the hallway of their shared guest wing as she prepared to leave a written note to that effect in his office.
‘Hoping to get away undetected?’
It seemed as if he’d appeared out of nowhere. How did he do that?
She tilted her chin, and her eyes sparked dark chips. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to accompany me.’
‘I disagree.’ His drawl held a tinge of wry amusement.
‘Please don’t give me any of that macho hyperbole about a woman alone.’
One eyebrow arched in silent query. ‘You want to be prey to skilled pickpockets? Suffer the indignity of having your wallet filched beneath the guile of a supposedly accidental jolt while you’re momentarily distracted? Find your cellphone has somehow disappeared, and you need to find a police station in order to call the villa for help?’
‘And you’re prepared to save me from any of this by walking at my side? Really? You, of course, are exempt from any nefarious miscreants?’
‘Yes.’
‘Naturally,’ she concurred sweetly. ‘One look from you, and any mis-intentioned pickpocket will run in the opposite direction.’
‘You doubt it?’
No. But she wouldn’t own to it for all the tea in China. Instead she directed him a dark glare, then turned and moved swiftly towards the head of the staircase…only to discover he’d deliberately kept pace with her.
‘I’ll call a taxi.’ It was a last-ditch effort for independence, which merely incurred a swift brooding look more effective than any words could be.
‘You really are the most annoying, incredibly arrogant man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet,’ Gianna flung at him when they reached the spacious garage, and she stood in defiant silence as he used a remote to unlock the Mercedes.
‘Get in, Gianna.’
His voice was dangerously quiet, and there was something apparent in his dark eyes that warned retribution if she chose to argue further.
In the name of heaven, why was she behaving like a recalcitrant child? She had never thrown a tantrum in her life, or given in to a hissy fit…even in the most dire of circumstances.
So why now?
Because every moment she spent in Raúl’s presence highlighted what they’d both shared, and her anger was merely a mechanism to shore up the protective barriers she’d erected against him.
Because she was desperately afraid he might break those barriers down…and, worse, dispense with them.
And then where would she be?
Right back where she’d been three years ago…a heartbroken mess.
A bitter laugh rose and died in her throat.
Self-preservation.
OK, so she’d do this.
Without a further word she slid into the front passenger seat, fastened the seat belt, and sat in silence as Raúl sent the powerful car out through the gates.
Where were they heading? El Corte Inglés at the Avenidas in Palma? Or would he seek a boutique in any one of several luxury hotels?
A hotel boutique, she determined as he sought valet parking, then ushered her into a boutique where the vendeuse greeted him by name and almost genuflected with enthusiasm at a promised sale.
Raúl Velez-Saldaña happened to be a well-known identity whose photograph often graced the media. Recognition didn’t necessarily mean he’d purchased gowns or high-end designer shoes here for other women.
And why should it concern her if he had?
Because it does… Which hardly made any sense. She no longer loved him. Hell, she didn’t even like him.
Liar.
Why else had she become a restless sleeper, knowing he slept in a suite only metres from her own?
Each time she saw him, she was conscious of an elevated nervous tension. He had only to touch her and her heart pulsed to a faster beat.
What was that if it wasn’t the existence of sensual awareness?
The sane, sensible part of her warned that she didn’t need it…most certainly didn’t want it in her life. Not with him…not with any