Proof Of Their One Hot Night by Emmy Grayson
CHAPTER TWELVE
THEBLACKSHIRTand skirt Calandra wore as she walked down the front steps of the villa only made her look paler. Beautiful, Alejandro acknowledged, but aloof, distant. She walked toward the vintage Rolls-Royce, a purse slung across her body, hair pulled back in a tight braid. If she thought he wouldn’t be attracted to her when she dressed like she was going to a funeral, she was dead wrong. The braid bared her face to his gaze, a sight he consumed greedily. Dark brows bringing out her gray eyes, sharp cheekbones offset by that intoxicating, rosebud-shaped mouth.
Beautiful. He knew how to work with beautiful. But as she drew closer, her hand straying to the tiny bump beneath her shirt, he knew a moment of uncertainty. The women he’d known before had been easy to deal with and, most of the time, fun. For some, he’d been a shoulder to lean on. For others, he’d been a body to enjoy as they pushed memories of past lovers out of their mind. For a select few who had not heeded his caution that he was only interested in a good time, he’d been the target of angry tears and smeared mascara as they’d thrown shoes, hairbrushes or, in the case of a beautiful symphony percussionist with a passionate temper, a glockenspiel.
But this...this was new territory. Not just because she carried his child inside her. She fought him at every turn, resisted his usually successful charms and scorned the wealth that previous women of his acquaintance fawned over.
She fascinated him.
He glanced down at his watch, not ready to have her see how much she affected him beyond the physical attraction. “Five fifty-nine. I’m impressed.”
Her eyes flickered over him, her gaze opaque.
“I’m impressed you’re wearing clothes.”
He cracked a grin. “Figured I’d try something new since my state of undress doesn’t seem to affect you.”
“Fishing for compliments, are we?”
“I’m not above begging.”
She stopped in front of him. The faintest scent of sandalwood mixed with something surprisingly soft and fruity—cherries?—teased him. He resisted the urge to lean in, inhale her scent and place the faintest of kisses on her lovely neck.
He dragged his gaze from where her pulse beat at the base of her throat up to meet her eyes. Not dark and flinty, but soft and gray.
“You look handsome tonight, Alejandro.”
The simple compliment floored him. No over-the-top words, no excessive batting of the eyelashes. Just five words that shot straight into his chest.
He opened the door and gave her an exaggerated bow. “It’s a start. After you, mademoiselle.”
How big of a bastard was he that he was encouraging her to open up to him while throwing up his own defenses? His conscience bugged him the entire ride into Marseille as he regaled her with the history of the town and pointed out various landmarks.
They arrived at the harbor, and he escorted her onto the teakwood deck of the yacht.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Smythe!” Suzie said happily as Calandra walked onboard. “I am so excited for this opportunity.”
“Thank you for changing your plans so quickly.”
He ignored Calandra’s barb and, with a quick murmur of thanks to Suzie, guided Calandra in the direction of the stairs.
“Al fresco dining on the sundeck as we cruise around the Gulf. Suzie and her team will cater, and we’ll have some privacy.”
She tossed him her signature raised brow. “I’m not having sex with you on the deck of your yacht.”
“Ah. Well, since you figured out my sneaky plan, should we just cancel the tasting and go back to the villa?”
A roll of the eyes, but she didn’t turn quickly enough to hide the smile that quirked her lips.
They reached the deck, and he had the pleasure of seeing her eyes widen as she took in the splendor of La Pimpinela Escarlata. Plush couches were arranged around a small fire pit filled with glittering glass. Beyond the couches, a crystal-clear pool glimmered beneath the lights of the port and the emerging moon. And on the far side of the sundeck, two red velvet chairs and a white table decked with votive candles and set for two.
He turned to Calandra, waiting for her compliments on the custom wood decking, the hand-stitched silk pillows or any of the other details former lovers had gushed over when he’d brought them here.
Nothing. Nothing but that analytical stare sweeping over everything.
“It’s nice,” she finally said.
He bit down on his own tongue as he clasped her elbow and walked across the sundeck toward the table.
“Glad it’s satisfactory.”
If she sensed the irritation in his voice, she didn’t acknowledge it. She sat down, crossed her legs and watched the buildings of Marseille grow smaller as the yacht pulled away from the port.
Suzie bustled over to the table and set two plates in front of them with a flourish.
“Monsieur Cabrera, Mademoiselle Smythe told me of your appreciation for old-world glamour.”
He glanced at Calandra, who was examining the food on her plate with a critical eye.
“Yes. La Reina’s renovation was inspired by cruises from an earlier generation. My mother and I used to watch old movies.” A smile tugged at his lips. “One of my favorite memories.”
Suzie grinned as Calandra looked up, her gaze searching. He’d never shared that tidbit before. A small fact, so why did he feel bare, like he’d just revealed something deep?
“That makes me happy to hear. Like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, yes? Or An Affair to Remember?”
Hearing the familiar names brought on a rush of nostalgia. “Two of my mother’s favorites, actually.”
“Good.” Suzie gestured to the plate in front of him. “I also share an affinity for such films. For your tasting tonight, you have oysters Rockefeller, baked in a butter sauce, socca flatbread with a salmon tartare and baked camembert with honey and red pepper. And for you,” she said, turning to Calandra, “I have prepared a traditional French dish, coquilles St. Jacques, seared scallops on cucumber slices. And then brie fondant au pesto, topped with pine nuts and served with grapes and toasted baguette slices.” She put her hands on her hips and beamed. “A mix of your old-world glamour and French favorites.”
As much as he’d balked at the idea of a culinary school catering the party that could make or break his company, he found himself eyeing the food with appreciation. Not only did it smell incredible, but the delicate touches, from the sprinkling of chives over the scallops to the lemon wedges arranged artfully around the oysters, lent an artistic flair.
“This looks wonderful,” Calandra said. The smile she bestowed on Suzie had him blinking in shock. Sweet, feminine, kind. He realized with a jolt that he was now privy to one of the reasons why Calandra had been so successful in her job with Cabrera Wines. She hid her warm and fuzzy side well. But when she pulled it out of wherever she’d been hiding it, she dazzled.
“My students were very excited at the prospect of cooking for a famous billionaire, not to mention on his personal yacht.” Suzie beamed. “But we shall see what you think of the food. Eat!”
And with that pronouncement, she left. The yacht cut across the water, the brilliant sapphire of the sky stretching down to meet the darker blue of the ocean. The bell tower and stone walls of the Notre-Dame de la Garde stood proudly on a hill overlooking Marseille as the port grew smaller on the horizon.
“It is beautiful.”
Alejandro glanced at Calandra. With her face turned toward Marseille, her pale profile stood out in stark, stunning contrast against the sky.
“How much did it cost you to admit that?”
Instead of her customary silence or a sharp retort, she surprised him with a small smile that twisted his stomach into a tight knot.
“It’s too beautiful not to acknowledge.”
Before he could say anything else, he picked up a scallop and cucumber slice and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes widened.
“Oh, my.”
Her moan of pleasure made his blood boil. Pushing past his lust, he scooped up a piece of baked camembert with the flatbread, then sat back in surprise as the sweetness of honey and spice of red pepper hit his tongue.
“Well?”
“Decent.”
“Decent?” she repeated. “This is wonderful and you know it.”
He shrugged and took a sip of water, enjoying stretching out the moment. “Better than some places I’ve eaten.”
She started to retort, but then her eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing me.”
“I would never.”
She scooped a generous helping of brie and pine nuts onto a baguette slice and held it out. “Try this.”
He leaned forward and, before she could snatch her hand away, bit into the bread. Her eyes widened as she sucked in a breath. Her hand trembled. He reached out and caught her wrist before she dropped the baguette. Beneath his fingertips, her pulse pounded so furiously it echoed in his head.
“Delicious.”
Her cheeks flamed pink. No, not immune to him at all.
Food first. Then, perhaps later, he could offer her a private tour of the master suite. Optimism and lust had directed his instructions to the staff to make the king-size bed up with black silk sheets and a red rose on the pillow just in case the tide really turned in his favor.
Suzie distracted him from his lascivious thoughts with the next course. Over the next hour she kept up a steady delivery of culinary treasures. In between bites, Alejandro peppered Calandra with questions about her life back in Kitty Hawk, her time in college, the internship that had led her to Cabrera Wines. She, in turn, surprised him by asking not about business, but his movie marathons with his mother, his years at university and his time as a deckhand. His story of nearly getting swept overboard during a nasty storm on the Atlantic elicited more reaction than the luxury surrounding her.
“I don’t think most heads of corporations would do that.”
“It was fun. I actually enjoyed it. I earned the respect of my crew. When I presented everything I wanted to change to the board, they liked what I had to say.”
“And your father?”
The relaxation that had settled in vanished at the mention of his sire.
“My father pointed out Adrian’s sales of Cabrera Wines and told me once I hit that level of profit, then he would congratulate me.”
She stabbed her fork into the salmon sitting atop a pile of creamy risotto. “I may not approve of all aspects of your lifestyle, but that’s just cruel to do to your son, let alone someone who accomplished so much in such a short time.”
Her defense of him was surprisingly touching. When had anyone paid attention to him? Just him?
He couldn’t really recall.
After the last course was served, Suzie’s students replaced the table and chairs with the lounge chaises that normally occupied that spot. Calandra sat down and stretched out, her face content as the sun sank behind the waves of the Mediterranean, leaving behind fingers of pink and orange clinging to the sky as stars started to twinkle, little pinwheels of light against the darkening sky.
“You were right.”
She glanced up at him. “Oh?”
“Some of the best food I’ve ever had.”
Another smile that kicked him hard. “I’m glad you liked it. If the board wasn’t already planning to vote yes, they’ll have to after a meal like that.”
Her belief in his plan touched him in a way he didn’t care to examine too closely. At least not now. He shrugged. “Hopefully.”
Her eyes latched onto him, gray and pensive and searching. “I’ve noticed when you shrug, it means you care about something.”
“Come again?”
“When you shrug, others see a casual, fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants, spoiled billionaire. Nothing fazes you.” She tilted her head. “I think it’s how you hide.”
“Hide?” he echoed as he sat down on the lounge next to her.
“You’re more than just a playboy, Alejandro.” Her unexpected words made him pause. Was her view of him changing? “If your board knows anything about business, they’ll know that voting yes on La Reina is the best thing to do. You have a solid business plan, and more importantly, you believe in it.” Her eyes stayed trained on his, and, God help him, he couldn’t look away. “You’re more than most people think you are. I have no idea why you act otherwise.”
Because I don’t know any other way.
Suddenly, the possibility of altering her perceptions, of showing her the man he was just coming to know himself, made him extremely uncomfortable. The few times he’d opened that door with Javier, the rejections had cut deeper and deeper until he’d locked the door and thrown away the key.
“Perhaps it’s not an act.”
He sensed her disappointment with his answer but steeled himself against saying anything else. His campaign to woo Calandra had been based on wowing her with his wealth and showing her that he didn’t spend every waking hour drinking and smoking cigars. He hadn’t anticipated this deep dive into emotions that were better left untouched.
“How long until we’re back in port?” she asked.
His lips parted. What would she say if he told her everything?
Fear snatched his confession away, leaving him hollow and cold. He glanced at the passing rocky cliffs of Calanques National Park.
“Less than an hour.”
She pulled a notebook out of her purse. “In that case, I did have some details I wanted to verify for the party—”
“Don’t you ever take a break?”
She looked up at him in surprise.
“When there’s time, yes.”
“It’s after eight o’clock. Nighttime,” he added.
“I’m not surprised that you view this as a time to...relax or enjoy.” She kept her eyes trained on her damned list. “But not all of us have the luxury of drinking and seducing our way through the evening.”
The frosty tone rankled him. Even if he hadn’t confessed all, he’d let her see more of him, whoever he was, than he’d ever shared with another woman. Because he hadn’t responded the way she wanted, she’d resorted to jabs that once would have made him laugh, but now just made his teeth grind.
“All right.” He leaned back against the chaise and closed his eyes.
“All right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Was there something else you wanted to discuss?”
“Just persuading you to let me be involved in my child’s life.”
For a moment there was only the distant sound of the ocean waves.
“When you say it like that, it sounds awful,” she said.
Irritation flared into anger. He opened his eyes, swung his legs over so his feet rested on the deck and faced her, letting her see the depth of his displeasure.
“It is awful, Calandra. You’re threatening to not let me be involved in my own child’s life.”
“That’s not what I said. I just—”
“‘Birthday parties and such,’” he quoted back at her. “Isn’t that what you said in Paris?”
“I didn’t mean you couldn’t ever see the baby, I just...”
“Just what?” When she continued to stare at him, her face blank, he barely stopped himself from grabbing her shoulders. “Just be involved when you say it’s allowed? Maybe that’s once a year, maybe once every three years?”
She came to life, exploding with passion and energy as she leaned forward, eyes blazing.
“Fine, then! Take me to court, sue me for custody or whatever it is you want. God knows you have enough money to get whatever you want.”
“What I want,” he ground out, trying to figure out how this conversation had spiraled so quickly out of control, “is not to force the mother of my child into doing something she doesn’t want to do. Yes, I slept with dozens of women. I swung from the chandelier at the Venetian Hotel. I’ve spent money on God knows what. But I’ve always tried to do right by the people in my life, and that includes you. Why are you so afraid of me?”
“I’m not afraid of you!”
He leaned in then, his lips just a breath away from hers. Her breathing stopped, then resumed with a deep, shuddering inhale.
“Perhaps you should be, Calandra.” Just a touch closer. “Perhaps I make you feel things that frighten you. Things you want but for whatever reason won’t let yourself have.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m not going to make the same mistake my mother did.”
As she started to stand, the deck tilted. A small movement from the lapping of the waves, but enough of a surprise that it threw Calandra off balance. He stood and caught her.
And then she was in his arms and he didn’t know whether it was the roaring of the ocean or the blood thundering in his ears. All he knew was that her hands still lay on his chest, his arms were still wrapped around her waist. They stared at each other, waiting.
Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to contain himself any longer, her arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed her lips flush against his.