Helen Bianchin - In The Spaniard's Bed

Cassandra’s eyes glittered with barely repressed anger. “My brother said it was personal. How personal?”

“Two separate nights and one weekend with you.”

It took her a few seconds to find her voice. “I won’t have sex with you.”

“You’re not in any position to bargain.”

“I’m not for sale,” Cassandra replied with dignity.

“Everything has its price.”

They speak the language of passion.

In Harlequin Presents, you’ll find a special

kind of lover—full of Latin charm. Whether he’s

relaxing in denims or dressed for dinner, giving

you diamonds or simply sweet dreams,

he’s got spirit, style and sex appeal!

Latin Lovers is the miniseries

from Harlequin Presents for anyone

who enjoys hot romance!

Watch for more Latin Lovers—

you can never have enough spice in your life!

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘I’M ON my way.’ Cassandra released the intercom, caught up her evening purse, keys, exited her apartment and took the lift down to the foyer where her brother was waiting.

At twenty-nine he was two years her senior, and he shared her blond hair, fair skin and blue eyes. Average height in comparison to her petite frame.

‘Wow,’ Cameron complimented with genuine admiration, and she responded with an affectionate smile.

‘Brotherly love, huh?’

The ice-pink gown moulded her slender curves, its spaghetti straps showing silky skin to an advantage, and the diagonal ruffled split to mid-thigh showcased beautifully proportioned legs. A gossamer wrap in matching ice-pink completed the outfit, and her jewellery was understated.

‘Seriously cool.’

She tilted her head to one side as she tucked a hand through his arm. ‘Let’s go slay the masses.’

Tonight’s fundraiser was a prestigious event whose guests numbered among Sydney’s social élite. Held in the ballroom of a prominent city hotel, it was one of several annual soirées Cassandra and her brother attended on their father’s behalf after a heart attack and stroke two years ago forced him into early retirement.

Guests were mingling in the large foyer when they arrived, and she summoned a practised smile as she acknowledged a few acquaintances, pausing to exchange a greeting with one friend or another as she selected iced water from a hovering drinks waiter.

Observing the social niceties was something she did well. Private schooling and a finishing year in France had added polish and panache. The Preston-Villers family held a certain social standing of which her father was justly proud.

While Cameron had been groomed to enter the Preston-Villers conglomerate from an early age, Cassandra chose to pursue gemmology and jewellery design, added the necessary degree, studied with a well-known jeweller and she was now beginning to gain a reputation for her work.

Mixing and mingling was part of the social game, and she did it well.

Committee members conferred and worked the room in a bid to ensure the evening’s success. The hotel ballroom was geared to seat a thousand guests, and it was rumoured there had been a waiting list for last-minute ticket cancellations.

‘There’s something I need to discuss with you.’

Cassandra met Cameron’s gaze, examined his expression, and restrained a faint frown as she glimpsed the slight edginess apparent.

‘Here, now?’ she queried lightly, and waited for his usual carefree smile.

‘Later.’

It couldn’t be anything serious, she dismissed, otherwise he would have mentioned it during the drive in to the city.

‘Darling, how are you?’

The soft feminine purr evoked a warm smile as she turned to greet the tall, slender model. ‘Siobhan.’ Her eyes sparkled. They’d attended the same school, shared much, and were firm friends. ‘I’m fine, and you?’

‘Flying out to Rome tomorrow, then it’s Milan followed by Paris.’

Cassandra uttered a subdued chuckle in amusement. ‘It’s a hard life.’

Siobhan grinned. ‘But an interesting one,’ she conceded. ‘I have a date with an Italian count in Rome.’

‘Ah.’

‘Old money, and divine.’

The musing twinkle in those gorgeous green eyes brought forth a husky laugh as Cassandra shook her head. ‘You’re wicked.’

‘This time it’s serious,’ Siobhan declared as Cassandra’s smile widened.

‘It always is.’

‘Got to go. The parents are in tow.’

‘Have fun.’

‘I shall. In Italy.’ She leaned forward and pressed her cheek against Cassandra’s in a gesture of affection.

‘Take care.’

‘Always.’

Soon the ballroom doors would be open, and guests would be called to take their seats. There would be the introductory and explanatory speeches, the wine stewards would do their thing, and the first course served.

Speaking of which, she was hungry. Lunch had been yoghurt and fruit snatched between the usual weekend chores.

Cameron appeared deep in conversation with a man she presumed to be a business associate, and she sipped chilled water from her glass as she debated whether to join him.

At that moment she felt the warning prickle of awareness as her senses went on alert, and she let her gaze skim the guests.

There was only one man who had this particular effect on her equilibrium.

Innate instinct? An elusive knowledge based on the inexplicable?

Whatever, it was crazy. Maddening.

Maybe this time she had it wrong. Although all it took was one glance at that familiar dark head to determine her instinct was right on target.

Diego del Santo. Successful entrepreneur, one of the city’s nouveau riche…and her personal nemesis.

Born in New York of Spanish immigrant parents, it was reported he’d lived in the wrong part of town, fought for survival in the streets, and made his money early, so it was rumoured, by means beyond legitimate boundaries of the law.

He took risks, it was said, no sensible man would touch. Yet those risks had paid off a million-fold several times over. Literally.

In idle fascination she watched as he turned towards her, then he murmured something to his companion and slowly closed the distance between them.

‘Cassandra.’

The voice was low, impossibly deep with the barest trace of an accent, and possessed of the power to send tiny shivers feathering the length of her spine.

Tall, broad-framed, with the sculptured facial features of his Spanish ancestors. Dark, well-groomed hair, dark, almost black eyes, and a mouth that promised a thousand delights.