Merline Lovelace - The Executive's Valentine Seduction / Valente Must Marry - The Executive's Valentine Seduction

Rory glanced down and made a fist. He hadn’t been able to perform that simple act for months after the job in Seattle went sour.

“We both know the odds, Harry. The higher the profile of our clients, the greater the chances we’ll take a hit along with them. Conversely, the greater the risk, the greater the reward. I’ve got more money in the bank than I can spend in two lifetimes.”

“And no one to leave it to,” his longtime friend and mentor guessed shrewdly, “except the half dozen charities that hit you up on a regular basis. So you’re going to make Caroline a rich widow.”

“Not anytime soon, hopefully. But one way or another, she’ll be set for life.”

“Just out of curiosity,” Harry said, “what makes you so sure Caroline will have you?”

“I’m not sure at all. But there’s something between us that just won’t die. A spark. A flame. Whatever. It’s been smoldering all these years.”

“Yeah, I noticed you out there on the beach the other night, fanning the fire.” He palmed his salt-and-pepper buzz cut and eyed Rory thoughtfully. “Have you told her about your plans for her future?”

“Not yet.”

“When are you planning to spring them on her?”

“I’m not sure. Tonight, maybe, in Barcelona.”

Harry nodded once, slowly. “I repeat, kid. Hurt that girl again and you’ll answer to me.”

“Understood. Now give me a quick recap of what you dug up on this guy Casteel.”

Caroline decided the meeting with Rory’s high-powered prospective client required more professional attire than the semicasual outfits she’d worn at the conference. She changed into black pumps, her slim black skirt with its matching jacket worn over an aqua silk tank.

She was glad she’d made the switch when Rory met her in the lobby. He, too, had changed and was once again the consummate executive in a hand-tailored charcoal-gray suit and silk tie. He looked almost like a stranger again until his amber eyes met hers and a frisson of unsettling sensation rippled down her spine.

“Ready?”

At her nod, he took her overnight bag and carried it with his to the silver BMW waiting at the front entrance. The smiling valet opened the door for her. It closed with a well-mannered thud, shutting her and Rory in a cage of cloud-soft leather and high-performance engineering.

Caroline said little during the drive into the city. As they sped along the A7 Autopista, snippets from her early-morning colloquy with Devon and Sabrina kept replaying inside her head.

Time’s running out.

Do I go with my instincts or play it smart and safe this time?

Her fingers tightened on the directions Señor Casteel had provided to his downtown office. She slanted a glance at the man beside her and found only traces of the teenager she’d hungered for in his rugged profile.

This Rory Burke was so different and so dangerously compelling. The square chin, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the nose with the flattened bridge—each of the parts added up to a whole that made Caroline’s adolescent desire pale by comparison to the hunger he roused in her now.

It hit her again, a hot rush of desire that made her belly clench and anticipation whip through her like wildfire. They had tonight, she thought. Alone. In a city made for lovers.

Go with your instincts.

See where they take you.

He turned then and met her gaze. Those wolf’s eyes seemed to burn right through her. “Is this it?”

“Wh-What?”

“C-33.” He tipped his head toward the green highway sign flashing by. “Isn’t this where we cut off?”

“Oh. Right. C-33.”

Jerked back to her self-appointed navigator duties, Caroline consulted the handwritten directions. Barcelona’s sprawling suburbs soon engulfed them, with accompanying traffic and noise.

“C-33 turns into Avenue Meridiana about a mile ahead. We stay on that until we hit Avenue Diagonal.” A brown sign snagged her attention. “The Diagonal takes us right past the Sagrada Familia.”

“The what?”

“The Sagrada Familia, Barcelona’s famous unfinished cathedral. It’s one of Antoni Gaudí’s masterpieces, along with La Pedrera and Casa Batlló.”

She clicked her tongue at his blank look.

“You said you’ve visited Barcelona twice before. Didn’t you see any of Gaudí’s work?”

“Not unless he built the bar where I spent the better part of a three-day pass.” His grin was quick and unrepentant. “I was still in the Army then. The next time I hit the city, I was on business. Landed at noon, left at seven that night. No time for sightseeing.”

“What a shame. Barcelona holds some of the world’s greatest architectural treasures. Maybe we can squeeze in a side trip or two while we’re here.”

“Maybe,” he agreed with a look she couldn’t quite interpret. “Looks like we’re coming up on Avenue Meridiana.”

In Caroline’s considered opinion, Barcelona was a world-class mecca for art lovers of all persuasions. On previous trips she’d spent hours in the Picasso Museum. One whole afternoon was occupied by wandering Montjuic, site of the 1929 World’s Fair and now filled with the wild and wonderful sculptures by Spain’s great Joan Miró. But Gaudí’s unfinished cathedral had truly left an indelible imprint on her.

Its towers appeared in the distance soon after they turned onto Avenue Diagonal, spearing into the blue sky with the soaring power of the apostles they were intended to represent. Eight additional towers were still under construction. Huge cranes had been an integral feature of the cathedral landscape since its foundation was laid in 1882.

Vowing to get Rory in for a closer look, Caroline directed him down Avenue Diagonal, then onto the city’s fashionable north-south artery, Paseo de Gracia.

“There’s the fountain Señor Casteel said to look for.” She pointed to the five-tiered sculpture shooting jets of silvery water high into the air. “His office building should be on the next block.”

Following the directions, Rory turned into an underground parking lot and pulled into the spot that had been reserved for him next to the elevators. Moments later, he ushered Caroline into an eighth-floor corridor flooded with light and stopped dead.

“What the hell is that? A giant chess set?”

She followed his startled gaze to the window at the end of the corridor. The sparkling glass gave a clear view of the rooftop of the building across the street.

“Those are chimneys and air vents!”

Thrilled, Caroline dragged him to the window for a closer look at the dozens of fanciful figures sprouting from the wavy roof. Below the modernistic sculptures was an art-deco-style apartment complex decorated with undulating wrought-iron balconies.

“That’s La Pedrera. A series of residences Gaudí designed for the Mila family in the early 1900s. He described the roof sculptures as sentinels in the sky.”

“Weird,” Rory muttered, fascinated despite himself.

“Ha! If you think those are weird, wait until you see his Casa Batlló. The balconies all look like skulls.”

“And you like this kind of architecture?”

“I love it.”

“No accounting for tastes,” he said with one of his quicksilver grins.

Caroline knew then she was in trouble. Major trouble. All the man had to do was flash that killer grin and she went gooey inside.

Just like last time, a voice in her head shouted. All those years ago. When he’d glance up, catch her watching him. One corner of his mouth would lift in a sardonic, knowing smile, and she would fall apart.

She’d ached for him then with a schoolgirl’s passion. There wasn’t anything the least girlish about the desire that now tightened Caroline’s nipples under the silk tank top and stirred a damp heat between her thighs.