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

None of which helped now , as he stood close, within touching distance, his tall, partly clothed frame a vivid reminder of times past when she’d slipped from their bed unable to sleep. Occasions when he’d gently massaged her neck, shoulders, easing the kinks, before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her back to bed.

For one brief moment she almost longed for the soporific effect…the comfort. She was aware the sensual tension still existed on her part. But on his?

He was impossible to read, and she tried to convince herself she didn’t want to.

Worse, to stand here, aware and almost compliant, was the antithesis of the image she cared to present. Dammit , she could sense the clean male scent of him, the faint muskiness merging with his brand of aftershave.

It evoked too many memories…places she was loath to go.

With determined effort, she drank the rest of her milk, then indicated the empty beaker. ‘I’ll take this through to the kitchen, then go back to bed.’ She waited a beat, then added, ‘Goodnight…’ with the utmost politeness.

He made no attempt to stop her, and there was a small part of her that almost wished he would.

Are you insane?

The words echoed silently as she slid into bed and snapped off the bed-lamp, becoming the last thing she remembered before she fell asleep.

A NOTE propped within easy visibility rested on the counter when Gianna entered the kitchen.

I’ve eaten. Help yourself. The jet leaves at nine for Mallorca. R

There was a sense of relief in eating alone, and she selected cereal, fruit, and strong sweet black coffee, then checked the newspaper headlines, surprised at how easily she recalled her fluency with the Spanish language.

Soon Carlos would drive her to the airport where she’d board the Velez-Saldaña jet for Mallorca. Where at least she’d be free from Raúl’s presence.

Sure, he’d fly in on occasion to visit with Teresa…but not every day.

Short social visits she could cope with, she rationalised a few minutes before nine, as she transferred toiletries into her bag, closed the zip and emerged into the lounge.

Raúl was already there, conducting a conversation in French on his cellphone. Not exactly a surprise— business encompassed a large part of his life.

Unless he was touching base with a woman…the mere thought of which sent unexpected pain lancing through her body.

She shifted her gaze and felt her heart jolt at the sight of a large overnight bag resting on the floor at his feet.

Please tell me he doesn’t intend to visit Mallorca .

Although why shouldn’t he? Teresa was his mother, and he’d been absent in Australia for a week.

At that moment he cut the call and turned towards her.

‘Good morning. Ready?’

‘Hi,’ she said evenly, and indicated her bag. ‘Yes.’

‘Let’s go.’ He collected both bags and together they exited the apartment, took the lift down to ground level, where Carlos waited ready to drive them to the airport.

The flight to Mallorca was uneventful, their arrival low-key, with a car and driver waiting to transport them to Teresa’s luxury villa in Calvià.

There was something magical about the Balearic Islands…especially Mallorca, Gianna reflected, with its mansions and villas, the lush green hills and the sparkling waters. It was a true panoramic vista that always stirred Gianna’s senses…offering tranquillity and a slower pace than Madrid.

Teresa’s villa was situated on elevated landscaped land with carefully tended gardens, whose multi-coloured flora were scrupulously maintained. High ornate gates guarded entrance to a semi-circular driveway which led to a beautiful two-level home whose massive double wooden bronze-studded doors were open in welcome.

It was there Teresa greeted them—a slender woman of average height in her early sixties, who hugged Gianna close with obvious affection before she turned to her son and embraced him as he lowered his head, touching her lips first to one cheek, then the other.

‘You brought her to me,’ Teresa said softly. ‘Thank you.’

Raúl held Teresa close, then gently brushed his lips to her forehead in a gesture that tore at Gianna’s heartstrings.

‘Yes,’ he responded softly. ‘Anything you ask of me.’

Which begged the question— had he been reluctant to comply with Teresa’s wishes ? And, if so, why ? Because he’d moved on? Was Raúl contemplating divorce proceedings, too, as she already had?

And why did that possibility suddenly cause a shaft of pain? It hardly made sense. But then what did in the current scenario…except a mutual love and affection for Teresa?

The only reason Gianna had agreed to travel to Mallorca.

‘I’ve had Elena prepare two suites in the guest wing,’ Teresa began. ‘Raúl, feel free to make use of the home office while you’re here.’

Raúl was staying? Dear heaven…for how long ?

Not… please …for the entire two weeks, surely? He had a huge conglomerate to oversee. Yet with modern technology he could do that from almost anywhere in the world.

A fact which irked her unbearably, and she barely veiled the gleam of anger threatening to appear in her vivid blue eyes.

A faint smile teased the edges of his mouth, almost as if he could read the passage of her thoughts.

‘Go freshen up—change if you wish,’ Teresa offered. ‘Then join me for coffee on the terrace. It’s very peaceful there at this time of day.’

Sadly, Gianna noticed, Teresa’s slender frame had diminished a little, and the beautiful dark eyes appeared to have lost some of their sparkle.

Gianna’s heart ached, and she fought to keep the unbidden well of tears at bay as she turned towards the staircase.

The villa was well planned, its physical structure comprising a large central area containing a spacious marble-tiled entry foyer, high ceilings and a wide sweeping staircase curving to the upper level, dividing the villa into two wings. One of them was devoted to Teresa’s private rooms, while the opposite housed four guest suites. At ground level a large formal lounge and dining room, media and entertainment rooms fanned to the right of the entry foyer, with library, home office and informal lounge and dining room housed to the left. A spacious kitchen, utility rooms and staff quarters were contained in an adjoining building and connected to the villa by an enclosed walkway.

Teresa loved to entertain, Gianna reflected as she ascended the magnificent staircase, and was a dedicated fundraiser for children’s charities. Her Madrid mansion had often been thrown open to host a variety of functions.

Mallorca was Teresa’s sanctuary, providing a low-key lifestyle where she retreated to relax and unwind. Now she’d made it her permanent home.

‘Choose, Gianna.’

The sound of Raúl’s drawl brought her back to the present, and she lifted a hand in a non-committal gesture. ‘Any one will be fine.’

‘As long as it’s not mine?’

She spared him a dark look. ‘That doesn’t even qualify for an answer.’ With that, she moved past him and entered the suite at the end of the hallway. Only to discover he’d followed in her wake. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

One eyebrow slanted with musing cynicism as he deposited her bag at the end of the large bed. ‘I imagine you’ll want to unpack.’

Gianna schooled her voice to be cool, polite. ‘Thank you.’

He inclined his head, and she was willing to swear she glimpsed amusement in those dark eyes an instant before he turned and left the suite.

Day one, she accorded wryly. Thirteen more to go. Please God, he wouldn’t stay for all those remaining.