His Unknown Heir

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Lauren.’ Only Ramon could make her name sound so sensual, his discernible accent lingering over the vowels like a lover’s caress, causing the tiny hairs on her arms to stand on end.

Her face suddenly felt hot as the blood moved in her veins once more. Even worse was the instant effect Ramon had on her body, and she bit back a gasp when she felt her nipples tighten so that they strained uncomfortably against the lacy restriction of her bra.

Why was he here? she wondered fearfully, tension knotting in her stomach. Could he have found out about Mateo? She glanced desperately at Alistair. Everyone at PGH knew she had a son. Had her boss unwittingly revealed her secret by explaining to Ramon that her lateness this morning might have been due to childcare issues?

She fought the frantic urge to turn and flee from Ramon’s speculative gaze. Alistair had introduced him as a new client, she reminded herself. He couldn’t be here because of Matty. But he had known the name of the law firm she had moved to shortly before they had broken up, and she was sure his presence at PGH was not merely coincidence. Nothing Ramon ever did was unplanned.

What game was he playing? she wondered. But it was easier to go along with it in front of Alistair than to admit to a history that was well and truly in the past. Pride and professionalism were her only weapons against Ramon’s lethal charm, and she called on both, forcing her lips to curve into a polite smile as she extended her hand. ‘And I am delighted to meet you…’ She paused infinitesimally while she steeled herself to say his name. ‘Ramon.’

In the few brief seconds before his hand closed around hers she allowed her gaze to roam over him. It was only eighteen months since she had last seen him, but he looked older. Still stunningly handsome, but there were a few faint lines around his eyes, and his aristocratic features seemed harder somehow, his skin drawn tight over his slashing cheekbones. The silky black hair that had once touched his collar was now cropped short—less jet-setting playboy, more billionaire businessman, she mused.

She had read in the newspapers of his father’s death a year ago. Ramon was now CEO of Velaquez Conglomerates, which included among its business interests the famous Velaquez winery, a bank, and a chain of five-star hotels around the world. He must also have assumed the title of Duque de Velaquez, she realised. But then her thoughts scattered as his hand clasped hers, his strong, tanned fingers contrasting starkly with her paler skin, and the contact of flesh on flesh sent an electrical current shooting up her arm and a quiver of reaction down her spine.

Ramon studied Lauren in a leisurely appraisal, frowning slightly as he felt his body’s involuntary response to her. His arousal was instant and embarrassingly hard. He was not a testosterone-fuelled youth, he reminded himself, irritated to discover that his desire for her had not lessened in the year and a half since he had last seen her.

She was wearing the scarlet suit she had worn the night she had abruptly ended their relationship—although today she had teamed it with a demure white blouse rather than the black silk bustier that had displayed her breasts like plump velvety peaches. Her close-fitting jacket showed off her slim waist, while her pencil-skirt moulded her hips and stopped several inches above her knees to reveal long slender legs in sheer hose. Black patent stiletto heels added another three inches to her height and made her legs seem even longer—he wondered if she still liked to wear stockings.

He inhaled swiftly, and tore his eyes and his over-active imagination away from her legs. Her face was attractive, rather than pretty, oval in shape, with creamy skin, intelligent grey eyes beneath hazel brows. Her dark honey-blonde was hair swept up into a chignon.

What was it about this woman that he found such a turn-on? Ramon wondered irritably. He had dated some of the world’s most beautiful women—actresses and models whose looks were their fortune. Only this graceful English rose had taken him to the edge of sexual insanity.

The passion they had shared had been mind-blowing—the best he’d ever known. Although he had refused to admit the intensity of his need for her during their affair. The last eighteen months had passed swiftly—his father’s illness and subsequent death had been followed by a period of mourning, while at the same time he had taken his place at the head of the company, endeavouring to please shareholders and trying to comfort his mother and sisters. There had been little time for introspection, yet memories of Lauren—the silky softness of her hair, her taut, slender body, the soft cries she let out when he made love to her—had continued to invade his mind.

She had become a thorn in his flesh, he acknowledged grimly. A persistent ache that he had put down to sexual frustration but which, for some reason, he had been unable to assuage with other women. Now he was back in London to oversee a business project—but it was also an ideal opportunity to discover if his lingering sexual attraction to his ex-mistress was real, or a memory that he should have dismissed from his mind months ago.

‘Please have a seat, Ramon. I know you have a tight schedule, and we have plenty to discuss.’ Alistair Gambrill’s voice sliced through the aching silence, although the man seemed unaware of the tension in the room.

Lauren tried to pull her hand free from Ramon’s grasp, but he retained his hold for few more seconds, his eyes narrowing on her flushed face before he finally released her.

He already had his answer, Ramon brooded. His desire for Lauren was not imagined. In fact his imagination was enjoying a highly erotic fantasy in which they were alone in the office and she was spread across the desk, with her skirt rucked up around her waist and her long, shapely legs wrapped around him.

Eighteen months ago he had been furious when she had walked out on him, and had vowed to dismiss her from his mind. But he had been unable to forget her. There was still unfinished business between them. The flare of emotion in her eyes when she had first entered Alistair Gambrill’s office, and the slight tremble of her hand when she had placed it in his were evidence that she was not as immune to him as her cool smile would have him believe.

Lauren’s legs were trembling as the shock of Ramon’s unexpected appearance seeped through her, and she sank weakly onto the chair next to him. She had no idea why Alistair had summoned her to meet this new client, but while she was trying to guess the reason the senior lawyer cleared his throat.

‘I have studied your remit, Ramon, and it all seems straightforward. As I understand it, Velaquez Conglomerates are looking to purchase a number of suitable commercial properties in London, with the intention of applying for planning permission to run these establishments as wine bars.’

Ramon nodded. ‘That’s correct. I would like to open two, maybe three bars here in the capital. I already have a shortlist of potential properties suggested by estate agents, and what I require is a commercial property lawyer who will work exclusively on this project and who has additional expertise in planning and development laws.’

He turned his head and looked directly at Lauren, his predatory smile reminding her of a wolf stalking its prey. ‘Put simply, I need you, Lauren. I understand that you have specialised particularly in Town and Country planning matters, and I believe you are best suited to advise me on any potential problems with the properties I am interested in.’

She gaped at him, her mind reeling in horror as it sank in that he seemed to be suggesting that he wanted her to work for him. ‘There are several other commercial property lawyers at PGH who are more qualified and experienced than I am—and who I am sure would suit your requirements b-better,’ she stammered quickly, glancing frantically at Alistair for confirmation.

Ramon’s eyes narrowed on her flushed face. ‘I have read the reports on your recent assignments and I am impressed by your work,’ he said coolly. ‘I also noted on your CV that you studied Spanish and speak it fluently, which would be additionally useful,’ he added, the gleam in his eyes telling her that he had been aware before he had read her CV that she could speak his language.

He turned back to Alistair Gambrill before she could comment. ‘I understand that PGH promote a service whereby Lauren could be seconded to Velaquez Conglomerates to give personalised in-house legal advice until the project is completed?’

Alistair nodded enthusiastically. ‘That is certainly possible. The in-house legal practice offered by our company is fairly unique, and enables companies such as your own to access specialist lawyers without having to employ their own full-time solicitor.’

‘So in effect Lauren would be working directly for Velaquez Conglomerates until the project is finalised?’ Ramon queried. ‘Can I take it you would be happy with that, Lauren?’

This time there was no mistaking the predatory nature of his smile; the hard gleam in his eyes told her that he could read her mind.

Apprehension churned in the pit of her stomach. No, she damned well would not be happy, she wanted to cry. How could she work for him, spend hours every day with him, and manage to keep Matty a secret from him? Once again she felt a desperate urge to flee, to run out of the office and keep on running. But if she did that she was highly likely to lose her job, her only means of supporting her son, and so she remained in her chair and knotted her trembling fingers together as Alistair spoke.

‘I have no doubt that you will find Lauren a dedicated and hard-working employee who will do her utmost to please you.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ The wolfish smile widened, and despite her tension the wicked glint in Ramon’s eyes sent heat coursing through Lauren’s veins.

Utterly dismayed by her reaction to him, she did not trust herself to speak. But inside she felt sick with panic. She would have to speak to Alistair privately later, she decided frantically. But what excuse could she give for not wanting to work for an influential new client? For now at least she would have to go along with it.

‘I will certainly do my best to ensure that all transactions are completed as smoothly and quickly as possible,’ she said coolly.

‘Good.’ Ramon smiled, showing his white teeth, and Lauren felt a sharp pain, as if she had been kicked in the ribs. Missing him had become a part of her life, a persistent ache in her chest, and she quickly compressed her lips to disguise their betraying quiver.

‘I hope to open at least one wine bar this summer,’ he continued, his eyes fixed intently on her, ‘which is why I want you to give your exclusive attention to this project. We will need to liaise on a daily basis, and an office will be made available for you at my London headquarters.’

‘Oh, but…’ This time she refused to keep silent, despite Alistair’s warning frown. ‘I think it would be better if I remained here at PGH. I’m responsible for several other accounts—’

‘I will personally allocate other members of staff to take over those accounts,’ Alistair interrupted smoothly.

Lauren guessed he was very eager for her to work directly for Ramon. The in-house legal practice might save clients the expense of employing their own full-time corporate lawyer, but PGH charged high fees for the service.

‘I’ll have a contract drawn up immediately, and Lauren is at your disposal as of now.’

‘Excellent.’

The satisfaction in Ramon’s voice sparked Lauren’s temper. She did not want to work for Velaquez Conglomerates, and she certainly did not want to work for Ramon. But to object would be tantamount to suicide for her career. This was a fantastic opportunity for her to prove her suitability for the upcoming promotion at PGH, and a higher position would mean a rise in her salary, which would help with Matty’s exorbitant nursery fees. But she couldn’t shake off the idea that Ramon had deliberately engineered the situation. The million dollar question was why? What did he want from her?

She was agonisingly aware of him sitting beside her. The spicy tang of his cologne assailed her senses, so achingly familiar that she felt a sudden constriction in her throat. Her eyes were drawn to his face, searching for an answer that was not forthcoming, and instead she glimpsed a ruthless determination in his gaze that sent a prickle of unease down her spine. The moment passed, and he gave her a bland smile as he reached into his briefcase and retrieved a folder.

‘These are the details of the properties I am interested in. Perhaps you could spend some time looking through them this morning, and we can discuss your opinion on their potential suitability over lunch?’

He was too much! ‘How about I read through the notes and email you a résumé of my initial thoughts?’ she countered, oh-so-politely. ‘I don’t want to interrupt your schedule.’

Sherry-brown eyes glinted gold with amusement, but the subtle nuance in his tone brooked no argument. ‘One o’clock, the Vine, Covent Garden. I expect you to be there, Lauren.’ He stood up and extended his hand towards Alistair Gambrill. ‘Thank you for your time, Alistair.’

‘It’s a pleasure to do business with you, Ramon.’

‘The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.’ There was pure devilment in Ramon’s smile as he paused in the doorway and glanced back at Lauren, satisfied to see that she looked flustered and pink-cheeked—and infinitely kissable. But the expression in her eyes made him frown. What had he ever done to cause her to look at him as if she feared him?

She had been on edge from the moment she had walked into Alistair Gambrill’s office, he brooded. But perhaps she was simply surprised to see him again after their affair had ended so explosively eighteen months ago. He recalled the ridiculous argument they had had because she had objected when he had referred to her as his mistress. Notoriously hot-tempered, he had reacted to her threat to walk out by telling her that if she did, he would not have her back.

Later, when his temper had cooled and he’d had time to think rationally, he had acknowledged that he had spoken in anger, and he had wondered if Lauren had too. But by then he had returned to Spain, after a frantic call from his mother telling him that his father’s health had deteriorated and that the Duque was gravely ill. Sorting out his personal life had come way down the list of his priorities as he had taken charge of his family.

It was not only business that had brought him back to England, Ramon admitted to himself. He had come because he hoped to persuade Lauren to resume their affair. She was a fiercely independent career woman, and had informed him that she did not want to be his mistress, but he was confident he would be able to convince her that they should be lovers and enjoy an affair for as long as either of them wanted it to last.

He was the Duque de Velaquez, and had a duty to choose a bride from the ranks of Spanish nobility. But he was in no hurry to marry—certainly not until he had got Lauren out of his system, he acknowledged self-derisively. But first he needed to discover why she seemed so wary of him.

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