Robyn Grady - Australia - Sinful Secrets - Public Marriage, Private Secrets / Every Girl's Secret Fantasy / The Heart Surgeon's Secret Child

Yet when she stepped into the gown, slid her feet into the stiletto heeled evening sandals and checked the mirrored effect, she had to concede both Raúl and the vendeuse had nailed it.

There was no way she could top it, and her pleased smile said it all. ‘Thank you.’

‘Your husband has a good eye,’ the vendeuse complimented as she clapped her hands and tilted her head to one side. ‘Your hair, señora… Might I suggest you style it up? You have such a slender neck it is a pity not to display it. Diamond ear-studs,’ she enthused. ‘A slim matching bracelet and perhaps a diamond pendant. Not too much to take away from the gown, comprende ?’ She moved to stand behind Gianna and freed the zip fastening. ‘I will package the items while you change, sí ?’

It took only minutes to pull on tailored trousers, add her blouse, then slip her feet into her footwear.

She emerged from the fitting room to discover Raúl in the process of using his credit card, and she crossed quickly to the sales counter.

‘I’ll pay for the purchases.’

The vendeuse paused and cast him an enquiring glance. ‘Señor?’

‘My wife’s independence is laudable,’ he opined smoothly. ‘However, in this instance you will disregard it.’

‘As you wish.’

‘I would prefer…’ Gianna faltered as Raúl cupped her face and covered her mouth with his own in a soft kiss that tore the breath from her throat.

‘No.’ A gentle remonstrance, but effective, and her eyes widened at the sensual gleam apparent in those dark eyes as he released her.

The atmosphere between them suddenly became highly charged, and for several heart-stopping seconds she was oblivious to everything in the room as she stood in a state of mesmerised inaction.

‘Your packages, señor.’

The sound of the vendeuse ’s voice acted as a catalyst that brought her back to reality, and she shook her head in a gesture that indicated acquiescence. ‘Men,’ she confided with a faintly wry smile. ‘Generous to a fault.’

‘Ah, but señora,’ the vendeuse chided gently. ‘What woman would not value such a man?’

Gianna merely offered a winsome smile, and waited until they exited the boutique and were out of earshot before venting quietly, ‘What on earth were you thinking ?’

‘To what do you refer?’

‘Don’t toy with me. You know perfectly well what I mean.’

‘You are angry because I bought you a gown?’

She shot him a baleful glare. ‘Try again.’

‘You object because I kissed you?’

‘That,’ she allowed through gritted teeth, ‘and referring to me as your wife.’

‘Querida,’ he reminded her gently. ‘You are my wife.’

Not for much longer . Words she almost said aloud…only for them to remain unuttered, and for the life of her she failed to understand why .

‘Shall we share coffee?’ Raúl suggested, indicating the hotel lounge. ‘Practice,’ he drawled with a touch of indolent humour, ‘for the evening ahead.’

Fun . But not the kind she looked forward to experiencing.

Yet you’ve been there before, remember? The social occasions, some of which had required attendance by the wealthy elite, and she’d excelled first as Raúl’s partner, then as his wife.

A strange ache settled deep in her heart and became a tangible pain. They’d been so happy, so very much in tune…until it all went wrong.

Enough . She’d replayed that fateful scene so many times she could repeat verbatim every word Sierra had uttered. It was like a bad movie played by hostile characters with no happy resolution.

Now there was only the road ahead…one she’d successfully forged on her own. Surely she could survive a two-week sojourn sans any emotional damage?

Consequently she chose a comfortable hotel lounge chair, sank back into it, sipped excellent coffee and attempted to fit Raúl into the mould of casual friend.

It didn’t work… How on earth had she expected it to work? He’d been her lover, and just looking at him revived vivid memories of what they’d once shared. Almost to the point where she could feel his hands on her body, his mouth devouring her own, the intimacies…

Oh, dear God… stop .

She met his thoughtful gaze and offered a stunning smile. It was purely a defence mechanism, one she deliberately adopted in an attempt to fill the time.

Soon they’d return to the car, drive to Calvià, enjoy a light lunch, hopefully with Teresa, who acted as a perfect buffer. Given the customary siesta, after which she could plead time out to connect with her laptop, it would soon be time to shower, tend to her hair, make-up and dress.

Apropos of which, she offered Raúl a perfunctory thanks.

The gown bore an expensive price-tag, the evening sandals were designer, the evening purse… All totalled close to an amount that made her blink.

‘I appreciate your assistance in purchasing the gown, the shoes. Thank you,’ she said, and tried to ignore the way her heartbeat quickened at his lazy smile. ‘However, I insist on reimbursing you.’

‘Consider it a gift.’

He was such a strong and vital man…way too much for any one woman to handle with ease. And yet she had…for a while. Loving him with everything she had, everything she was…heart, mind, soul.

Don’t go there . It served no purpose.

‘No,’ she insisted. ‘I cannot possibly permit you to pay for anything on my behalf.’

He regarded her with indolent amusement. ‘And why is that?’

There was never going to be a better time. ‘Because I intend to file for divorce.’

She wasn’t sure what she expected from him. Agreement? Expressed regret? An attempt at persuasion to change her mind?

Who could tell from his unchanged expression? The man was a skilled strategist, adept in concealing any apparent reaction.

‘You don’t perceive another solution?’

There was little she could do about the slow curl of her stomach. ‘Such as?’

He took his time in answering. ‘Reconciliation.’

Gianna looked at him in stark disbelief. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘We still share a mutual attraction. That’s something to build on rather than discard, don’t you think?’

Her response was instantaneous. ‘No.’

How could she even begin to entertain anything like his suggestion.

Re-enter his life, his bed—dear heaven—be subjected to Sierra’s machinations, and those of the various women who tried to tempt him? No . She couldn’t… wouldn’t do it. That path lay strewn with the kind of pain she refused to revisit.

But what of the good times? a silent voice taunted. The loving? What they’d shared in bed and out of it? The joy, being so in tune with each other there had been no need for words? His wicked mouth…how easily he could arouse her to a depth of passion she hadn’t known existed? What of that?

Oh, please . Sex, even very good sex , wasn’t a basis for marriage. So don’t even go there!

So why this secret longing in a part of her heart for what once had been? How could she revisit and recapture the past…and not deal with what had torn everything apart?

Fidelity, once breached, made it almost impossible to repair trust. All she had to do was control her emotions—and the effect they were having on her body…and her heart.

Her mind ran on. A reconciliation would mean a total change to her life as she knew it. Could she move back to Spain? Give up her business and everything she’d done to put her life back on an even kilter?