Housekeeper in the Headlines Page 7

  But she had barely glanced at her reflection to see the new and improved version of herself because she had been anxious to get back to Sebastian. Although she need not have worried about him. When she’d returned to Carlos’s sister’s child-friendly apartment, Sebastian had been in the nursery with his cousin Miguel. Carlos, Graciela and the nanny had been playing with both children.

  Betsy had halted outside the room, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions as she heard Sebastian laughing and watched him clamber onto Carlos’s knee. Her little boy looked so happy with his new family. And Carlos’s sister had been so welcoming when they had been introduced. Graciela had tactfully not asked why Betsy had kept Sebastian a secret.

  She pulled her mind back to the present. The car was crawling along in heavy traffic, but she did not mind if their arrival at the party was delayed. Carlos had warned her that there was likely to be a large media presence at the hotel where the event was being held. When Betsy had been a child, the paparazzi had been obsessed with her celebrity parents during their hostile divorce.

  Memories of intrusive photographers and their camera flashbulbs going off, plus the knowledge that she would have to face the paparazzi tonight, when she and Carlos stepped out of the car, were partly to blame for her tension. But the main reason why her nerves felt strung out was sprawled next to her on the back seat of the limousine.

  She glanced at Carlos’s austere profile and butterflies leapt in her stomach when he turned his head towards her. He was so impossibly handsome. The perfect symmetry of his features, those gleaming golden eyes beneath heavy brows and that mouth all promised sensual heaven. And delivered. The memory of his kiss had stayed with her for two long years.

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Carlos’s eyes narrowed and he lifted his hand and brushed his thumb lightly over the place where she had bitten.

  ‘Are you still worrying about Sebastian? He was fast asleep when we left him at my sister’s apartment, and even if he does wake up Graciela and the nanny will take good care of him.’

  ‘I know he will be fine.’

  She ran her tongue over her lip, where it tingled from Carlos’s touch. His gaze sharpened on her face and Betsy saw a glint of gold beneath his thick lashes. Awareness of his male potency caused the tiny hairs on her body to stand on end.

  ‘I’m sorry I was an idiot earlier today,’ she mumbled, embarrassment flaring because she had broken down in front of him.

  They had flown to Spain on Carlos’s private jet. When Betsy had seen his luxurious penthouse apartment it had been another sign that he was hugely wealthy. But she had grown up with money—although the only winners in her parents’ divorce had been the lawyers—and she knew that affluence did not guarantee happiness.

  She looked down at the exquisite pear-shaped diamond ring that Carlos had slid onto her finger before they had left his penthouse. The streetlights shining through the window glinted on the diamond so that it sparkled with a fiery brilliance. But the ring, like the designer dress she was wearing, was only to convince the paparazzi that her romance with Carlos was genuine.

  Her heart gave a jolt when he captured her hand and lifted it to his mouth. The brush of his lips across her fingers sent a shiver of sensation through her.

  ‘We will both need a period of adjustment,’ he murmured. ‘I accept that the trauma you experienced as a child when your parents divorced amid such acrimony led to your decision not to tell me about Sebastian. But our marriage will be different. I will do everything possible to make it work.’

  Carlos sounded sincere. Betsy tried to remind herself that he was only marrying her to claim his son, but she did want Sebastian to grow up with parents who did not despise each other.

  ‘I will do my best to make our marriage work, too,’ she promised.

  Her eyes locked with his and she could not look away from him. The atmosphere inside the car was suddenly thick with sexual awareness. Hers. His.

  The privacy screen was up, separating them from the driver. Betsy’s stomach dipped when Carlos took hold of her chin. She watched his dark head descend and held her breath. Her pulse was thudding and she was transfixed by the feral gleam in his eyes. His gaze was on her lips and she moistened them with the tip of her tongue.

  ‘Perhaps we should seal the deal with a kiss?’

  His deep voice was like velvet caressing her skin. She had secretly longed for him to kiss her from the moment he’d stormed into her cottage, Betsy admitted to herself. Her common sense told her to resist her attraction to him. He had the power to hurt her—as he had done once before, and as her father had done when he had dropped out of her life. But her body refused to listen to her brain, and she felt her breasts tighten and her thighs soften. The truth was that she was desperately attracted to Carlos and her lips parted in invitation.

  ‘I agree,’ she whispered, casting caution aside.

  Anticipation ran like quicksilver through her veins when he dipped his head lower and closed the tiny gap between them. He grazed his lips across hers and she felt him smile before he covered her mouth with his own and kissed her with bone-shaking sensuality.

  She caught fire instantly, unable to resist his bold mastery as he coaxed her lips apart with the tip of his tongue and then plundered deep inside her mouth. He released her chin and slid his hand round to her nape. She tipped her head back, twisting in her seat so that she could press her body against him. His fingers tangled in her hair and he skimmed his other hand from her waist to the curve of her breast.

  His kiss was even better than she remembered...even more potent than her dreams of being in his arms. The reality was heat and flame and she was powerless to resist his mastery.

  ‘You look incredible,’ Carlos whispered against her mouth. ‘When I first saw you in that dress you took my breath away.’

  Pleasure swept through her at this husky compliment. The dress that the stylist had picked out was a floor-length forget-me-knot-blue silk sheath overlaid with lace and embellished with tiny sparkling crystals. The plunging neckline was more daring than anything Betsy had ever worn before, and the side split in the skirt went up to her mid-thigh. Strappy silver stilettos and a silver clutch bag were the perfect accessories. Her make-up had been kept discreet and the stylist had left her hair loose.

  When she’d walked into the sitting room at the apartment the look of admiration on Carlos’s face had for a moment helped to ease her nerves about making her first public appearance with him. He looked mouthwatering in a black dinner suit, white silk shirt and black bow tie. The formal clothes emphasised his athletic physique, and his thick, dark hair curled rebelliously over his collar.

  Betsy had drawn a sharp breath when he’d pulled a velvet box out of the pocket of his tuxedo and opened it to reveal the diamond engagement ring. ‘Is that really necessary?’ she’d muttered.

  The ring had made her situation real. She had agreed to marry a man who did not love her. But at least Carlos had not made false promises—unlike her father, who had used her as a pawn in his battle of one-upmanship with her mother. In truth, both her parents had put their own selfish aims above her happiness, Betsy thought ruefully.

  Now Carlos deepened the kiss, and the firm pressure of his lips on hers decimated the last vestiges of her defences. The world ceased to exist and there was only him. His arms felt like iron bands around her and his evocative scent—spicy cologne mingled with male pheromones—filled her senses. It had been the same two years ago. One kiss and she had been lost to the intoxicating pleasure that he’d wrought with his mouth and hands.

  Right now one of his hands was on her back, tracing along her spine, and the other was splayed over her breast. His thumb stroked her peaked nipple through her dress, sending shockwaves of sensation through her. Desire pooled low in her pelvis and she curled her arms around his neck, so that her breasts were pressed hard against his chest. She could feel the
beat of his heart echo the erratic thud of her own.

  Outside the window there was a bright flash, then another, and another. Betsy blinked, suddenly aware that the car was no longer moving. Carlos lifted his mouth from hers and growled something in Spanish as he moved along the seat away from her.

  Still dazed from their passion, she gave a soft moan of protest which turned into a choked sound of dismay as her brain clicked into gear and she realised they had arrived at the hotel. The blinding flashes had been from the paparazzi’s cameras.

  Carlos raked his fingers through his hair, and Betsy fancied that his hand was a little unsteady. But when he spoke his voice held its usual blend of cynicism and faint amusement, as if he took nothing in life too seriously. ‘Are you ready for showtime?’

  The door was opened by the chauffeur and Carlos climbed out of the car and offered his hand to help Betsy step onto the pavement. She was blinded by bright white light and heard the popping sound of more flashbulbs exploding. The press pack surged forward and she was glad of Carlos’s solid presence beside her as he slid his arm around her waist. She was still stunned by that passionate kiss in the back of the car, but she told herself that her legs felt wobbly because she was unused to walking in high heels.

  ‘Carlos—is it true that you and Miss Miller have a child?’ a photographer called out.

  ‘Why was your baby kept a secret?’ someone else shouted.

  ‘You are on record saying that you never wanted children, Carlos. Do you regret the birth of your son?’

  Betsy felt Carlos tense as he led her up the steps of the hotel, but when he turned to face the baying press his bland expression revealed nothing of his thoughts.

  ‘It is absolutely true that Miss Miller is the mother of my son,’ he said calmly. ‘And, far from regretting Sebastian’s birth, I am delighted to be a father. Betsy and I had hoped to keep our son out of the spotlight, but now I am very happy to reveal that we intend to marry as soon as possible.’

  A babble of voices rose from the crowd of paparazzi.

  A photographer pushed closer to Betsy. ‘Miss Miller, your high-profile parents went through a notoriously acrimonious divorce and fought for custody of you when you were a child. Your father even kidnapped you at one point. Has that had an effect on how you view marriage?’

  She stiffened. The question was intrusive, and it brought back memories she wished she could forget. But she would deal with her demons in private—not in the pages of the tabloids. Ignoring a strong urge to run into the hotel, away from the camera lenses, she forced a smile for the paparazzi.

  ‘My view of marriage is that it is a wonderful institution and I am looking forward to becoming Carlos’s wife.’ She held out her left hand to show off the engagement ring. ‘Diamonds really are a girl’s best friend,’ she quipped. ‘I’m extremely happy.’

  To her relief, Carlos ignored further questions from the press and escorted her inside the hotel. As they walked through the opulent foyer Betsy’s stiletto heels clicked on the marble floor.

  Carlos glanced at her. ‘You handled that well.’

  The admiration in his voice made her foolish heart leap. She halted and turned to face him.

  ‘Some people sympathised with my father when he kept me hidden in Canada. He was seen as a champion of the rights of fathers. He said he kidnapped me because he loved me, and I felt terrible when he was sent to prison. When he was released I hoped I could rebuild my relationship with him. But I was a teenager by then, and Drake lost interest in me when he realised that he couldn’t use me as a way to hurt my mother any more.’

  She sighed.

  ‘I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to make a public show of claiming your son only to become bored with fatherhood when Sebastian reaches the tantrums stage or when he is no longer a cute toddler.’

  An indefinable expression flickered in Carlos’s eyes. ‘My commitment to my son will be total and for ever.’

  She nodded, feeling reassured.

  Ahead of them, the double doors leading to the ballroom stood open and guests were already filling the room.

  ‘I’d like to use the bathroom.’ She needed a few moments to steel her nerves before she put on a show as Carlos’s fiancée.

  Thankfully the cloakroom was empty, and there was no one to hear Betsy’s groan of dismay when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was mussed and the neckline of her dress was askew. She ran her finger over lips that were still puffy from Carlos’s kisses.

  Her stomach swooped as she wondered if he had kissed her deliberately, knowing that the photographers would snap pictures of her looking suitably love-struck. He had warned her that the paparazzi would be waiting for them, but she had forgotten, or simply not cared, because when Carlos had put his mouth on hers she had been instantly lost in the beauty of his kiss.

  After reapplying a pale pink gloss to her lips, and taking several deep breaths, she went to find him.

  The hotel foyer was crowded now, as more guests arrived. Carlos was standing by the entrance to the ballroom and, Betsy noticed that all the beautiful women gravitated towards him like bees drawn to honey. He looked over in her direction and the lazy smile on his face turned into something far more predatory. The heat of his gaze burned through her and she felt an ache in her womb.

  He was the father of her child, and soon she would be his wife, but what did Carlos expect from their marriage—from her? She bit her lip. They’d had sex once, and the next morning he’d left. Those facts were unarguable. If she hadn’t had Sebastian she would not be wearing Carlos’s ring now. But he had said he wanted their marriage to work—did that mean he wanted to have sex with her?

  Shockingly explicit memories flooded her mind of his powerful body looming above her, his thick erection pushing deeper and deeper inside her. Between her legs she felt the sticky heat of desire...

  He could not possibly know what she was thinking, she assured herself as she walked towards him. But the golden gleam in his eyes sent her pulse racing and she could not look away from him.

  His dark brows quirked. ‘Ready?’

  Betsy felt a betraying blush spread across her face. She might as well have ‘ready for sex’ tattooed on her forehead, she thought ruefully. Carlos made her forget her natural caution and behave in a way she had never done with any other man.

  But two years ago she had given him her virginity and, although she hadn’t expected the night they had spent together to lead to everlasting love, she had felt such a fool when he’d gone back to Spain without a word. She would enter this marriage with no expectations, she vowed silently, and she would guard her heart against Carlos.

  Giving him a cool smile, she slipped her hand through the arm that he held out to her and walked beside him into the ballroom.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE CHARITY BALL was a spectacular event that would be talked about for weeks afterwards. Carlos had expected nothing less. He employed the best party planners and had funded the event personally. The food was sublime, the champagne flowed, the guests were clearly enjoying themselves—and, most importantly, a substantial amount of money was being raised for the Segarra Foundation.

  Since he’d retired from playing tennis competitively, Carlos’s passion had been his charity, which aimed to enable kids from deprived backgrounds to access sports which were too often elitist. As a child he had been lucky, because his mother had once been a professional tennis player and had not only encouraged his talent but managed to secure funding for his training. The foundation was his way of putting something back into the world of sport that had made him a household name and a multi-millionaire.

  The evening was drawing to an end and he should be feeling satisfied. But Carlos grimaced as he acknowledged that satisfied was the opposite of how he felt.

  Frustration surged through him as he moved around the dance floor with Betsy
in his arms. Holding her close like this was pure torture. He was fiercely aware of her soft breasts pressed against his chest, and when the side split in her ballgown parted and he felt the brush of a stocking-clad leg against his thigh, it took all his willpower not to haul her closer still. But if he did she would be bound to realise that he was aroused.

  It infuriated him that she made him feel dangerously out of control when no other woman had ever done more than spark his temporary interest. He shouldn’t have kissed her in the car. That was when everything had gone wrong. He’d tasted her sweet breath in his mouth and a madness had come over him.

  Carlos tried to blame his obsession with Betsy on his libido, which had inconveniently reawakened after the longest period of celibacy he’d had since his first sexual experience when he was sixteen.

  He looked down at the top of Betsy’s head as she rested it on his chest. The silky caramel curls invited him to spear his fingers in her hair and angle her head so that he could taste her again and plunder the moist lips that she’d parted beneath his during those stolen moments in the back of the limousine.

  Maybe she’d sensed his scrutiny, for she looked up at him and he saw her brown eyes darken as the pupils dilated. He could not fault her performance. Why, she had almost convinced him, along with the guests and invited members of the press, that she was his adoring fiancée.

  For a moment he imagined that this was real. That they were two people who had connected on a fundamental level and were eagerly anticipating spending the rest of their lives together...

  Dios. He cursed silently as he reminded himself that the only reason he was marrying Betsy was so that he could be a full-time father to his son.

  There was a lull in the music and Betsy gave him a rueful smile as she pulled out of his arms, leaving him with a sense of regret that added to his fury with himself.