The billionaire's baby bargain

“Shall I find out who she is, Señor Montero?” Andrés Montero didn’t immediately answer the discreet question from his assistant. Instead, he kept his gaze trained on the woman who’d caught his attention just moments ago. A hot summer breeze rolled in off the Mediterranean, lifting the blonde’s hair as she ran. From where he stood beneath the palm tree, Andrés watched her shove back the curly strands while she maneuvered her petite curves around a row of sunning chairs near the path that led to the resort. Lifting his snifter of brandy, he took another sip. But it wasn’t the alcohol that warmed his blood at this moment. Intrigued far more than he cared to admit, he visually traced the soft curves of her breasts beneath a dark blue bikini top, down to the pale glow of her bare stomach, to the flare of her hips concealed beneath a white sarong. Una turista. She looked young, with a carefree spirit and optimism he usually had no patience for. And yet he experienced a twinge of disappointment as she disappeared inside the luxury hotel a moment later. His luxury hotel. With the reputation as being Spain’s elusive bachelor billionaire—tabloid-dubbed, of course—Andrés never found himself without a willing female to warm his bed. But he was quite careful and selective of the women who actually made it that far. He swirled his brandy before taking another sip. All he had to do was give Pablo the word, and the blonde could be waiting naked in his bed within hours. Though first she’d be pulled aside and questioned extensively and discreetly. If she met Andrés’ requirements and was interested, she’d be presented with a confidentiality contract. The women, of course, were always interested. He narrowed his eyes and turned his attention to the Mediterranean Sea, which basked in the lavender and coral swirls from the sunset just a short while ago. Already he could imagine the blonde reclining upon smooth sheets, the loose curls of her hair falling over her shoulder to tease creamy breasts. It had been several months since he’d taken a lover, and his body stirred at the image. But once more, he made the decision to place business first. He had a meeting with the manager of the resort in less than half an hour. And he had not arrived at his position in life by thinking with the wrong head. Andrés gave a firm shake of his head. “No, gracias, Pablo,” he finally murmured. “Tonight is for business, not pleasure. I think I will walk alone for a bit prior to the meeting.” Chloe Wilkinson slung her backpack over her shoulder and rushed back out of the employee lounge. She pushed another unruly hair away from her eyes and groaned in frustration. Running around. She was always running around somewhere at this darn resort. At least now she was officially off the clock doing it. She huffed a sigh and picked up her pace. Everyone would probably be done swimming by the time she returned to the beach. How could she possibly have forgotten to grab her backpack? She took it with her everywhere, using it in place of a purse. Though the most valuable thing in there hardly had a monetary value. She thought of the aged leather journal that told the story of two people who’d fallen in love…lovers who had now been dead for over a year. Chloe’s stomach clenched and a heavy wave of sorrow pricked tiny holes through the excitement of her evening. Not now. Not while she was in Spain. Once again pushing aside the momentary stab of sadness, she exited the resort through a side entrance and let herself smile. These were the moments she loved the most. When she was finally off her shift waitressing at the posh resort and had a few moments to enjoy the beauty of this country. Stepping onto the path that led to the beach, Chloe clutched the strap of her backpack. The palm trees blocked the light from the rising moon. It was all so romantic, with the sounds of the Spanish guitar being played by the resort’s musician. They did that for the tourists. Funny, but after the first couple of weeks in Spain she’d stopped thinking of herself as a tourist. This country was in her blood like a fever she couldn’t shake. Had no desire to. It would be hard returning to the States after being here for two months. She’d been fortunate to get the job at the resort, allowing her to work in Spain. Though it helped that she had experience waiting tables back in the States. To pay her bills, waitressing had become a second job to her part-time position as a magazine columnist. Writing for the magazine was her true passion, and someday she hoped Modern Coquette picked her up for a full-time columnist position. Maybe this article she was working on would help that. With a sigh, Chloe moved onto the beach, loving the silken sand weaving between her toes. She closed her eyes for just a moment to enjoy the night’s ambience. Then slammed into something. Hard. She gasped, her eyes snapping open as she stumbled backward. An iron grip clasped around her forearms, stopping her fall before she could land in humiliation on her bottom. “Perdón,” she said, blushing. She reached up to grip the man’s arms to further steady herself. Her eyes widened at the thick muscle she discovered beneath the crisp white shirt. How had she not seen him standing there? The man was huge. Granted, she’d had her eyes closed for a second, but still. She lifted her attention up to his face and their gazes collided. Now that she’d stepped out from beneath the palm tree, the bright light from the moon clearly lit up his features. The breath hitched in her throat and she struggled to swallow. Good lord, he had to be the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on. And having worked at the resort for almost two months, she’d seen her share of attractive men. He was tall compared to her petite frame, and her heart thumped madly in her chest. She was keenly aware of the strength in the hands that held her in a gentle, yet unyielding grip. “Señorita, are you all right?” His question was tinged with concern and spoken in a deep, accented voice that lifted the hairs on the back of her neck and made her breath catch. Her mouth parted to form a response, but no words came out. She couldn’t drag her attention away from his chiseled face or resist studying the strong nose and sexy cleft in his chin. Finally, she raised her head again to see his eyes. Eyes that were so dark they seemed almost black, but then perhaps that was just the deception of the night. His eyes bore into hers with a mix of concern and something else. Something impossibly hot and dangerous that sent a coil of heat through her body. “Señorita?” he murmured, stepping closer to her and causing any air left in her lungs to flee. “I’m sorry,” she almost squeaked, completely thrown off-balance. “What was your question?” The man’s mouth curled upward and his eyes crinkled a bit, and for some odd reason it surprised her. As if smiling was not something that this man did all that often. His gaze swept down over her so thoroughly, she felt as if it had been his hands touching her instead of simply his stare. The wake of his inspection left gooseflesh on her skin and her cheeks warmed. “Tell me your name, cariño,” he commanded. Cariño. She spoke enough Spanish to get by waitressing at the resort, but even though she wracked her brain to place what sounded like an endearment, she came up blank. Her mind was beginning to go to mush anyway, with how he was looking at her and the intimate way he held her. Really, why hadn’t he let her go yet—and more so, why wasn’t she asking him to? Andrés was beginning to wonder if she would ever give him her name, when the woman murmured a soft, “Chloe.” “Chloe,” he repeated, and traced his thumbs over the silky naked skin of her forearm. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” And an American. He had realized the moment she spoke. Was she a guest at his resort? Beneath his hands a small tremor moved through her body. She had the most succulent full lips, which were just slightly parted to draw in unsteady breaths. What would that mouth feel like beneath his? She stared up at him, frozen like a doe trapped by a hunter, with round, soft brown eyes. But more than the fear in her stare, there was interest and an awareness of him. A very good sign. Electricity seemed to snap through his body. Dios, but he could not have predicted this. He’d deliberately decided not to have Pablo seek her out and yet now here she was, in his arms. Andrés drew in a controlled breath and moved a hand to her bare waist, pulling her closer and ignoring her startled gasp. “You were not on tonight’s agenda,” he murmured, moving his hand up to slide his fingers into her hair. Soft, like the most expensive silk, and with the scent of jasmine. “But I certainly won’t protest the change in plans.” Her brows drew together in surprise, but before she could reply, he lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. So soft and sweet, Chloe tasted of vanilla and innocence. She let out a distraught cry, the move opening her mouth just enough for him to discover the temptation inside. Her hands, small and quick, came up to his chest, almost to push him away. But he changed his technique quickly and softened his mouth against hers, flicking his tongue in light, teasing movements instead. A moment later she made a soft but revealing moan that signified her pleasure and surrender. She ceased in her efforts to push him away and instead gripped the white cotton of his pressed shirt. Pure male triumph shot through him. He gathered her closer and angled his head to get deeper access to her mouth. Her breasts crushed against his chest, the now firm tips just further proof of her arousal. Heat built between them, and an urgency that made him nearly forget where he was. Fueling him with the temptation to pull her down onto the sand on his beach and take her, no matter how many other guests might be wandering the night. That’s what finally grounded him again. The realization at just how far gone he nearly was. Dios. From a simple kiss. A kiss that left him as dazed as a knock on the head. Andrés pulled his mouth from hers, so discombobulated by his own reaction that he could barely appreciate the murmur of protest she made. But it soon registered, along with the passion-drugged look in her eyes when her lashes fluttered upward. Ah, yes. She wanted him. Would likely accompany him to his room if he requested. But that would be something he never did. Bring a woman back to his room without knowing everything about her. Without having Pablo discuss the confidentiality contract. He smoothed a thumb down the softness of her cheek, then shocked himself by making the request anyway. “Join me for a drink later tonight in my room.” “In your room?” she repeated. The haze of arousal slowly faded from her stare, like a wave retreating back to the sea. Instead her expression turned wary, and she gave a slow shake of her head. “I-I can’t. I’m sorry.” Her cheeks filled with color and she glanced beyond his shoulder to look at some point down the beach. A moment ago she’d been melting in his arms, and now she appeared eager to be far away from him. “Why is that, Chloe?” Her breathing hitched; she lifted her chin and swung a defiant look back to him. “I don’t owe you an explanation of why I’m choosing not to go to your room. Now if you would please release me.” She’d dismissed him. Quite curtly. Andrés’s gave a tight smile, and he found himself torn between amusement and dismay. “After that kiss, cariño, I think you at least owe me a reason.” The color in her cheeks heightened. “Excuse me? I don’t recall actually asking you to kiss me.” He offered a small smile. “Though you may not have used words, you most certainly asked.” He let his fingers trace the skin of her lower back, just above her sarong. So delicate. So alluring. “I know when a woman desires me.” Her mouth fell open and her eyes flashed with anger now. “Well, guess what? I know when a man is far too arrogant for his own good.” Her body trembled with indignation beneath his fingers. He was surprised to find himself enjoying her frustration as she struggled to deny the attraction between them. “Come to my room tonight,” he cajoled. “I promise you will not regret it.” She made a noise of exasperation. “Do you ever get told no?” He gave a slight shrug and replied matter-of-factly, “I do, but generally in the context of no, don’t stop.” Her lips twitched, and he thought for a moment perhaps she might be fighting amusement. “Chloe,” a male voice called out from down the beach. “Are you coming with us or not?” Andrés stilled when she winced. Had she declined because she was with someone else? His nostrils flared when he realized the kick in his gut was something akin to jealousy. No. That couldn’t be right. He set the thoughts of jealousy—of her being already spoken for—quickly aside. Chloe would not have succumbed so easily to his kiss if she had belonged to another man. “I…I really must go,” she stammered and lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry.” Chloe pulled away from his embrace with more force this time, determined to be free from whatever sensual spell he had cast over her. She turned and fled down the path to join her friends, her heart still pounding frantically in her chest. Pressing a hand to her warm cheek, she shook her head, completely overwhelmed and befuddled with what had just transpired. How had she completely lost herself in that man’s embrace? That man? Good heavens, she didn’t even know his name. Of course she’d been kissed by men in the past, but never had she experienced such a hot urgency from a kiss. Or the staggering vortex of pleasure that threatened to drag all thoughts of reason from her mind. Come to my room. Those four little words still rang in her ears, keeping her pulse racing and spreading heat low in her belly. Casual s*x. That’s all he’d been offering. And despite her irritation at his shameless suggestion, she’d been tempted to do something completely out of character and take him up on it. How many nights prior to flying out from Seattle had she envisioned the perfect summer with her dream lover? Finding something similar to what she’d read about in the diary? Of course she’d known it was silly, and so very unlikely that she’d ever find the equivalent to what they’d had. But it hadn’t stopped her from secretly dreaming. And in her fantasies she would bury her head on her lover’s shoulder while riding through the streets of Spain on his motorcycle. Sip sangrias while watching the sunset together. Be serenaded by him while he played the Spanish guitar. She’d never expected him. This arrogant stranger on a moonlit beach, wooing her with a kiss and then expecting her to hop into his bed. It wasn’t as if other Spanish men hadn’t tried to seduce her. If there was one thing she’d learned about the men here, it was that they loved to flirt. At first it’d been rather charming, but over the weeks, the novelty had faded. And none of the men had ever made her pulse race or her knees weaken with a look. Until tonight. At the return of the butterflies in her stomach, she pushed aside any silly romantic ideals. Yes, tonight, you fool. Under a palm tree with a guest who’d likely drunk too much and decided to kiss the first woman who came across his path. She stumbled in the sand. Really, what kind of overly confident, self-entitled man just hauled off and kissed a woman? Then assumed she’d jump at the opportunity to go up to his room? One who rarely gets told no. And he’d admitted it so matter-of-factly. Dangerous. Oh, yes, the man on the path was wickedly dangerous. And wickedly handsome. A hot shiver raced through her blood. She remembered the feel of his hands on her arms. His breath mingling with hers just before he’d kissed her— She needed to stop thinking about it. There was no time for a romance anyway. Most of her time this summer had been spent working like a dog. She spotted her group of friends up ahead and waved in greeting, shoving aside the thought of random moonlit kisses by sexy Spanish men. From the twentieth floor of his hotel, Andrés stared out the window of his lush office down at the sprawling beach below. He told himself he wasn’t searching for her, but still he watched the shadows for the silhouette of the curvy blonde who’d amazingly turned him down. He leaned back in the leather office chair, twirling a pen between his fingers while he stared outside. What was it about Chloe that made him want her so swiftly? So intensely? Could it be so simple as her rejection? But no, he’d wanted her prior to that unfortunate occurrence. Chloe had fled as if he were the big bad wolf, about to devour her. Though perhaps the girl was smart, because his intentions were indeed something along those lines. His mouth twitched. He turned his chair and focused his attention on the file in front of him once more. The figures showed the net profits for Diablo’s Paraíso had increased by nearly twenty-five percent in the last six months, and his Valencia resort was quickly becoming one of the most popular of his European locations. Apparently his decision to hire Estella Martinez had been a wise one. The divorcee was as astute as she was beautiful. Though it was for her qualifications, not her looks, that he’d hired her…even if he sensed the woman might want more than just a business relationship between them. Fortunately, there was no attraction on his part, and even if there were, he would not be so unintelligent as to act on it. Andrés closed the file and stared out the window once more, restlessness prickling under his skin. It was getting late in the evening, and the beach was less crowded than it had been a couple of hours ago. Once again his mind slipped to Chloe. The softness of her mouth beneath his and the seductively feminine response she’d had while in his arms. “Basta.” He shook his head and stood up from his chair. No woman deserved to occupy this many of his thoughts. A cold shower would rid her from his mind. Or no, perhaps a vigorous swim in the Mediterranean. It was always a failsafe to eradicate unwanted stress. With a growing determination, he set off to the penthouse to change. Chloe squeezed a bit more ocean water from her hair as she walked back to the resort on the moonlit beach. She inhaled the salty air and shivered, the gentle breeze caressing her damp skin. Her friends had protested her leaving so soon, but she’d explained having to wake up early to be at work in the morning. To which they’d bemoaned what a tyrant Estella Martinez was. They were always quick to point out how the resort used to be a wonderful place to work until she took over managing it. And from everything Chloe had seen about the woman, she could well believe it. Smothering a yawn, Chloe winced at the thought of another long day tomorrow. The swim had been invigorating after her long shift, but she’d skipped the alcohol the rest of the group had been indulging in. She rarely drank, and Chloe knew if she’d taken a sip of the sangria she’d just grow more tired. And her mind was still fuzzy from that sensual moment earlier with the handsome stranger. Who was he? She bit her lip, trying not to think about the kiss and just how much it had stirred her. She was nearly back to the path to the hotel when she realized someone seemed really close behind her. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to investigate and her pulse jumped. A man. Mostly in shadow. Biting her lip, she tried to increase her pace. The hotel was closer now and was within view of the path up ahead. Chloe gathered the length of her sarong and started to run. Footsteps rushed behind her and she knew she was in trouble. Her heart slammed against her ribcage when a hand grabbed her arm; his painful grip spun her around. “What’s your hurry, baby?” he asked, his voice slurred. Chloe recognized the man immediately. He was one of the guests at the resort, an American. Oh, no. No, no, no. “Let go of me,” she said forcefully, hoping her panic didn’t show through. That policy Estella Martinez had instilled at the Diablo’s Paraíso resort, or the Devil’s Paradise, was catching up with her in a big, nasty way. “I thought we could pick up where we left off this afternoon, when you were serving me drinks.” He pressed himself closer to her and the alcohol fumes from his breath nearly burned her nostrils. “Damn, but you’re a pretty one. You’re an American, too, aren’t you honey?” She tried to jerk away, fear in her gut, but it was impossible. Flirt with the guests. Make them feel important. Do whatever it takes to ensure they are satisfied, Estella had ordered. Flirting didn’t come naturally to Chloe, but she managed to force herself. And until now it had never posed a threat to her safety. Her throat went tight with fear, her heart pounding a mile a minute. “Please, let me go. I’m not interested,” she protested, trying to free herself from his grip, searching around for someone on the beach who could help. “You sure seemed interested this afternoon, baby.” He grinned and then grabbed her bottom. “Stop it.” Panic hit full force and her voice rose. She managed to pull free enough to stumble backward. Her relief was short-lived when her foot caught in her sarong and she went sprawling onto the sand. The man was on top of her in an instant, lips burying against her neck, hands tearing at her bikini top. Chloe screamed full force, terror clogging the air in her throat while she fought to free herself. But she was no match for his drunken dead weight. The weight of the man suddenly lifted, the smell of sweat and alcohol removed from her nostrils, and she sucked in a desperately needed breath. She scurried backward in the sand, fearful he would grab her again, but then she looked up and gave a sob of relief.