The billionaire's baby bargain

Chapter 2

Andrés let out a snarl of rage as he gripped the American’s shirt, lifting the man off the ground. He drew back his fist and smashed it into the man’s face. His snapped back and he gave a groan of pain. “Leave before I kill you,” he muttered savagely, thrusting him to the ground. The man stumbled to his feet, gripping his jaw, but fearfully ran in the opposite direction. Andrés turned to find Chloe, his throat tight with fury and regret. She cowered just yards away, arms wrapped around her legs and her head lowered on top of her knees. “You are safe now, cariño.” He knelt down beside her and lifted her chin. Her eyes brimmed with tears of shock and fear. Muttering a soft curse, he scooped her up into his arms. “Please,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I’m fine. I can walk back myself.” “Basta. Enough,” he said fiercely and lifted her petite frame higher against his chest. He managed to grab her backpack before carrying her toward the resort. Still, her body trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. She’d been lucky he’d been swimming nearby and had heard her screams. To think of what could have happened… When he’d seen Chloe pinned beneath the bastard, heard her cry of terror, he’d snapped. Never before had he experienced such rage, nor had he wanted to snap a man’s neck more than in that moment. A growl sounded low in his throat, and Chloe stiffened in his arms. With a silent curse, he forced himself to relax, to ease the fury from his face. The last thing he needed was to frighten her any more than she already was. Chloe rested lightly in his arms, and when she stared up at him through damp long eyelashes she looked achingly vulnerable. Entirely too beautiful. Some of the anger faded. Desire stirred in his loins and he shook his head in disbelief. How could he be having such thoughts when she was obviously traumatized? He needed to take her somewhere private. Have her sit down for a moment and take a sip of brandy to calm her nerves. His thoughts turned to the cabana on the resort’s property. It was near the beach and had been set aside for his own personal use, but he had yet to take advantage of it. Damn, did he even remember the code to enter it? Once outside the cabana though, he was able to recall the password and soon had them inside the small room. “Where are we?” she asked, scrubbing the tears off her cheeks. “Somewhere safe,” he assured her, and set her still-trembling body down on the bed in the middle of the room. “Just try to relax for a moment.” He moved to the mini bar and found what he was looking for. Pouring a bit of brandy into a glass, he returned to the bed, where she sat unmoved. “Drink,” he commanded softly. She shook her head. “I-I don’t drink that stuff.” “Tonight you do.” He lifted the glass to her mouth, knowing once the drink hit her stomach she’d relax a bit. Calm down. “You have had a shock, Chloe. It will settle your nerves.” Chloe met his gaze, saw the gentle determination there, and then parted her lips, letting him tilt the glass of amber liquid into her mouth. The fiery drink slid down her throat, burning just a little, but sliding warmth in its path. She swallowed all the contents in the glass and then pushed it away. Her heart had yet to slow from that terrifying moment on the beach. What had almost happened…what could have happened if this man hadn’t come along. Who was he? This man who’d kissed her in the moonlight and then rescued her just hours later. “I don’t even know your name,” she whispered, handing him back the glass. He accepted the glass, his eyes darkening. “Andrés.” “Andrés,” she repeated shyly, testing the name on her tongue. The name was just as mesmerizing as the man who stood gazing down at her. There was something in his stare that had the hairs on the back of her neck lifting. A small tremble shook her body, but this time it had nothing to do with fear. Dragging her attention from him, Chloe looked around the room, frowning. Where were they? Everything was a bit of blur from the moment he’d rescued her. After the attack, the fear had continued to be debilitating, even after Andrés had lifted her into his arms. But being held against his chest, hearing the steadying thump of his heart, had eased the terror a little. But how had she not noticed where he’d taken her? Wherever they were, it seemed to be some kind of private cabana. The square wooden building held a bed in the center, a round table for two, and a mini bar in the corner. “Can you tell me what happened on the beach?” he asked softly. Her nerves had settled a bit from the brandy, but the question sent an icy wave through her. She closed her eyes and recalled the attacker’s hands on her. Smelt the stench of alcohol and stale sweat. “I…can’t,” she choked out. “Please, I don’t want to relive it right now.” The mattress dipped, and then his strong arms closed around her again. “Of course. I was insensitive to ask, cariño.” He pressed her head to his chest and stroked her hair, continuing to murmur something soothing in Spanish that she was too tired to try and translate. This is foolish. She didn’t know Andrés any more than she’d known that vile attacker on the beach, and yet she sank into his embrace, welcoming the calm it brought. In his arms there was a sense of safety unrivaled by anything she’d ever known. And right now she welcomed it. Needed it. She blinked, realizing for the first time that he wore nothing more than swim trunks. The discovery sent a slow warmth through her chilled body. His chest was strong, solid and warm, despite having just swum in the ocean. Chloe listened to the calming metronome of Andrés’s heartbeat, the dark hair on his hard chest tickling her cheek. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the smell of man and the saltiness of the sea. The memory of his kiss earlier tonight flickered through her mind and her pulse jumped. It didn’t take long for the thoughts of the attack on the beach to fade away. She was soon cloaked in the unexpected sensuality of the present. Nothing else mattered except the man who now held her. Something stirred inside her. Something hot, potent, and startling. Maybe it was just her body responding to the presence of such a virile, near-naked man. To his confidence and protectiveness. Whatever it was, everything within her reacted. The heat moving through her body spread low, creating a sweet ache between her thighs. Her breasts swelled and she squeezed her eyes closed tighter, embarrassed by her blatant reaction to being in his arms. She shouldn’t be having this response. Not after what had just nearly happened. What on earth is wrong with me? Cristos, he wanted this woman. Andrés hardened his jaw, trying to keep his arousal at bay to avoid startling her with a very physical reaction. In his embrace, Chloe was so small and defenseless. Deliciously feminine. He tightened his arms around her slim body; jolted with another stab of protectiveness. It was an unfamiliar emotion, and he hesitated to question why she brought it out in him. Stroking a hand through her hair, he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. He should have beaten the man within an inch of his life. Hell, it was no less than the bastard deserved. If he’d been thinking more clearly, beyond the rage, he would have detained the man and called the authorities. He would make a call when he returned to the hotel and have the man hunted down. He still had a fairly good memory of the man’s physical description. Chloe turned in his embrace and the softness of her breast brushed against his arm. Andrés could’ve sworn her lips touched his naked skin. Desire fired through his blood and he clenched his teeth, unable to stop his body’s reaction this time. She inhaled swiftly and another tremble rocked her body. “You are chilled,” he said roughly, and began to set her away from him so he could reach for a blanket. “No, please don’t leave,” she pleaded, gripping his arm to stop his movement. She glanced up at him through her lashes and he saw desire in her eyes that matched his own. Then she whispered, “I’m not cold.” Dios. She must know what she was saying. He shouldn’t…and yet he knew he could no more stop himself from what he was about to do than stop the sun from rising in the morning. Andrés caught her chin in a light grip and tilted her head, bringing her mouth up in an offering he would not resist. His lips covered hers, gently, catching the soft sigh she gave. Chloe turned fully in his grasp, facing him now, and slid her arms around his neck. Her mouth parted beneath his. He hauled her against him, crushing the mounds of her breasts against his bare chest. Delving his tongue into her mouth, he teased her, drove them both to a breathless fervor. Just as it had been earlier, the urgency in his blood shocked him. Never had he been so close to losing control with a woman. Never did he feel such a need to claim her. Tearing his mouth free from hers, he tilted her back over his arm to bury his mouth against the hollow of her throat. The sweetness of her skin tempted him to flick his tongue against the rapidly beating pulse in her neck. He moved a hand between them to cup the fullness of one breast, thrilling at the moan she made. Even through the stretchy fabric of her bikini top her hardened n****e pressed into his palm. Sí. She wanted him. Chloe cried out, her body arching up while pleasure skyrocketed through her body. Too fast. Oh God, this is moving too fast. His lips slid to the curve of her shoulder and neck, caressing. Tasting. The hand that held her breast squeezed just enough to drag another moan from her, and the need that settled low in her belly grew stronger. “Andrés,” she pleaded, her hips rising, begging for something she wasn’t even completely sure of. “Sí, Chloe,” he murmured, nipping at her flesh. His hand moved lower, tugged at her sarong. “I know.” Another wave of doubt rushed through her. Stronger this time, refusing to let her be drawn back under the tide of this sensual irrationality. She barely knew him, and would be leaving Spain in less than a month, not to mention he was likely one of the guests at the resort. Was this really such a good idea? “Wait,” she whispered, shaking her head to clear it. “Please.” His lips brushed hers while he caressed her hip. “¿Por qué? I can ease the ache, cariño. I can pleasure you if you’ll let me.” Oh, she didn’t doubt it for a minute. But he was too confident. Entirely too seductive and with a practiced touch. How often did he do this—seduce women? She had to wonder just how long his trail of broken hearts was. The idea sent a pang of hurt through her, a surprising disappointment that had her throat tightening. “No,” she said firmer now. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.” Andrés lifted his head and stared down at her, his dark eyes filled with desire and yet a control that sent a frisson of unease through her. Who looked like that after such a passionate moment? It didn’t seem normal. “Chloe, tell me what is wrong.” She slid out from beneath him, flushing self-consciously. How had she let things get so out of hand? This was completely unlike her. “Nothing is wrong,” she muttered and rushed to grab her backpack. “It’s just…I’m sorry, Andrés. I really am, but I’m just not the type of girl who does this.” Andrés stood slowly from the bed, his erection throbbing, and the need for her stronger than it had ever been with any woman. But now she stood watching him, her expression skittish and her body taut. She seemed ready to bolt. “And what type of girl is that?” he asked gently, taking a step toward her. “The type to act on the passion between consenting adults? To take pleasure for herself?” The muscles in her neck clenched as she swallowed. Andrés came to stand in front of her. He pushed a silky strand of hair over her shoulder and ran the back of his finger down her cheek. “It is natural, Chloe. There is no shame in this.” He rubbed his thumb across her swollen mouth and said softly, “I promise I will not hurt you.” Something flickered in her eyes, an image or a thought that was making her reconsider. And then her phone rang. “I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t.” She jerked away, turned and then fled the cabana. He sighed and closed the door behind him, walking slowly back to the resort. The sharp ache of arousal faded as he thought about all that had occurred in the last hour. His lips tightened into a grim line and he shook his head, dismayed at his behavior. He shouldn’t have touched her so soon, not after the attack on the beach. Perhaps she’d been eager to explore the passion between them, but he shouldn’t have let her. Not yet, anyway. Why hadn’t he taken into account the fact that she was still in shock? How had he not even shown the slightest bit of restraint? What had come over him? Next time, and there would be a next time, he would maintain a bit more control. Because that was twice now she’d nearly made him lose it. After arriving in the penthouse, he dialed security and put out an alert for Chloe’s assailant from earlier. Then he made a call to his assistant and instructed with quiet calm, “The woman on the beach this evening. Her name is Chloe. I want you to find her.” Chloe arrived at work the next morning a few minutes late. Sleep had been elusive, and she’d stayed up late rereading the weathered pages of the diary she nearly knew by heart. Her favorite entry had been engrained in her mind from the first day she read it. When he kisses me, I swear I forget to breathe. Can barely tell the moon from the stars. He makes me wonder about destiny. The woman’s entries about falling in love in Spain had become magically serendipitous to what was happening in her own life. When Chloe had finally fallen asleep, the diary tucked beneath her arm, she’d dreamed of Andrés and their sensual moment in the cabana. Only in her slumber, she hadn’t called things to a halt. So she’d awoken this morning cranky, her body craving the touch of the man she’d refused last night. And in the light of day, she questioned her sanity. Maybe she should’ve stayed with him. Even if it would’ve been something completely unusual for her. Sometimes, well, didn’t you just need to take chances in life? Though taking chances was equivalent to taking risks. And risking the heart was always a little bit terrifying. But she would always be a romantic. It’s what had inspired her to write Passport to Love. Her editor at Modern Coquette had been thrilled with the idea of an article that not only retold the story from the old diary-of the lovers who had met while backpacking Spain-but also followed Chloe’s personal accounts of being a young American woman living and working in a foreign country. And now she’d found a man who made her heart race and her body buzz with excitement, and she’d fled from him like a terrified virgin. Though that wasn’t far off the mark, with her experience limited to a man she’d dated briefly back in college. But he’d certainly never made her feel like this. No man had made her feel the way Andrés had last night. Slipping into the hotel, Chloe prayed no one would notice her tardiness when she clocked in. But luck was definitely not on her side. The hotel manager was passing through the employee hall and noticed Chloe’s rush. Estella Martinez stepped in front of her path and swept her gaze over her. The woman’s expression clearly indicated she found Chloe’s appearance lacking. “Did you have a late night, Señorita Wilkinson?” Her voice dripped ice. “I’m sorry,” Chloe said with a nervous smile, and smoothed a hand over her white blouse. “There was an incident on the beach last night—” “I don’t want, nor need your excuses, Señorita Wilkinson. Consider this a warning.” The older woman gave her another glance, and then continued down the hall. Chloe closed her eyes and groaned. For some reason the woman had taken a dislike to her from the first day she’d started working at Diablo’s Paraíso. And now she’d received her first warning. Just great. True, she would only be here for a little while longer, but it rankled nonetheless. For the most part, she’d always been a rule-follower. As she continued down the hall, her thoughts slipped back to Andrés. Since he seemed to be a guest at the hotel, would she see him today? The idea sent a rush of both apprehension and heat through her. She paused to look in the mirror in the employee lounge and winced at her tired appearance. The first break she got on her shift, she’d have to work some magic with the makeup. Turning, she left the lounge to head to the restaurant. After spending most of the day in meetings and on phone calls, Andrés looked forward to an evening of relaxation. He took the lift up to the penthouse and then moved outside, onto the balcony to look over the view. He breathed in the warm breeze rolling off the Mediterranean and let his gaze wander over the crowded resort below. Spain was his home, but soon his business here would be concluded and he’d be on his private plane heading to Paris, for as long as business would keep him. Travel was a necessity he didn’t mind. There was no family that called his heart to return home. But then, he preferred his life this way. String-free, with no emotional attachments. His mobile rang and Andrés plucked it from the inside pocket of his suit. Very few people had this number, and his suspicion that it was Pablo was confirmed when he glanced at the caller ID. “Have you found her?” he asked calmly. “Sí, Señor. Just moments ago.” He had expected nothing less, and yet Andrés straightened from the railing, his grip tightening around the phone. His mind flickered over the image of Chloe last night. In his arms, her body trembling while he’d tasted her flesh and pleasured her. Desire slid through him, hot and potent. Quickening his blood. “And?” “Her name is Chloe Wilkinson. She is a twenty-four-year-old from Seattle,” Pablo said and then hesitated. “She is in Spain on a visa and has spent the summer working as a waitress at your resort.” Andrés closed his eyes and unleashed another swift curse beneath his breath. She was an employee of the resort. This was certainly unexpected. It complicated things, even. But Cristos, how he wanted her. Did she know who he was? He thought back on her actions, her hesitancy to get involved. It was a possibility. Perhaps she feared getting involved with someone who was responsible for her paycheck. A wise woman. “How would you like me to proceed, Señor?” Pablo asked. Carefully… After a moment he murmured, “I will have food sent up shortly.” “¿Señor?” Confusion entered Pablo’s tone. “If you could please see to it that Miss Wilkinson is the one to deliver it.” “Ah, sí, of course. I will handle the details at once.” “Wait,” Andrés’s voice sharpened. He stroked his thumb down his jaw, his mind whirling. “No contract this time.” There was a moment’s silence. “But—” “I said no contract. I will handle the details.” “Sí. As you wish,” Pablo agreed, once again acquiescent. “I will ensure Miss Wilkinson delivers your order.” “Gracias, Pablo.” Andrés disconnected the call and walked back inside the penthouse to locate the menu. Though the food choice mattered little. It was simply the catalyst to bring Chloe to him. Just the thought of having her in his presence sent a rush of adrenaline through him. He placed the order quickly and then went to shower. Chloe glanced at the clock. Wonderful, only a half hour left. Could this have been a more awful day? Flirting with the guests had been even more difficult today after the awful assault last night, and she’d known bringing it up to Señora Martinez would get her nowhere. Twice today she’d had to attempt to be flirtatious while pushing away a guest’s wandering hand. Some days she was tempted to tell the manager of the resort to shove it. She thought about the relaxing night ahead and smiled. Maybe she could convince her roommate to go out for tapas. After running payments for the last of her tables, Chloe left the restaurant and headed downstairs to clock out. “Señorita Wilkinson.” Chloe winced, her shoulders hunching at the sound of her boss’s voice. But she turned around with a bright smile pasted on her face. “Yes, Señora Martinez?” “I need you to deliver an order to the penthouse at once,” the resort manager instructed in a clipped voice. Her arms were folded across her chest, her lips tight in a disapproving smile. “All right.” Chloe hid a frown, because delivering orders to the penthouse was something she’d never done. But perhaps they were short staffed? The penthouse was one of the places in the resort she hadn’t yet had the pleasure of viewing. And she had to admit the idea of sneaking a peek was intriguing. “The order is in the kitchen. And please do remember just who Señor Montero is.” Irritation flickered in Señora Martinez’s eyes, but then she was turning away, striding down the hall once more. Who Señor Montero was? As if she had any clue? Though anyone staying in the penthouse was obviously an important guest. Chloe scowled and went to the kitchen to pick up the order; a few minutes later she was in the lift, rising to the thirtieth floor of the resort. Curiosity burned in her gut as she strode down the hall to the thick wooden door of the suite. After a brisk knock, she heard a distant, “Entre.” She used her pass card to open the door and then moved inside the room. There was nobody about and her breath locked; she looked around the interior. “Oh, wow,” she whispered and set the tray of food on the dining table near the windows. “Talk about luxurious.” The floors were hardwood, with plush couches sprawled throughout the room and a massive flat-screen television set up nearby. There was also an expensive-looking kitchen unit and a fully stocked wet bar. Off to the east she spotted another set of heavy double doors that lay open, which likely led to one of the bedrooms. From there she could hear the water running in what must have been the bathroom. Chloe turned away and glanced at the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the room. The room was well-lit from the natural lighting, and beyond the glass she could see the blue sprawl of the Mediterranean Ocean. A door to the patio lay open, letting in a gentle breeze of warm coastal air. She cast another glance at the bedroom and then again at the windows, dying to take in the view out on the balcony. The water was still running, and the guest didn’t seem to be in any hurry to come out. Oh, she just had to sneak a peek. Chloe bit her lip and then tiptoed quickly across the floor and stepped out onto the balcony. She gasped at the sight below her, sucking in the warm Mediterranean air. Wow, what a view. Nothing but the endless blue sea and white sand. Absolutely gorgeous, it was a paradise not many could experience. Especially from the penthouse of a luxury hotel. “Hello, Chloe.” She spun at the words, spoken huskily from the man who stood behind her on the balcony. Her heart lurched and she gripped the railing, her body buzzing with shock and excitement. “Andrés,” she whispered, stunned. He couldn’t possibly be the suite’s occupant, could he? She’d figured he had to have some money to be staying at the resort, but not this kind of money. Her gaze slid over him and the air locked in her throat. As before, he was sinfully striking. His black hair still held drops of water that reflected in the sunlight, while the dark shirt he wore clung to his broad shoulders and the muscles of his chest. But it was his expression that drew her. His dark eyes smoldered with desire and determination, and there was arrogance in his smile when he crossed the balcony to her and slid an arm around her waist. Her pulse jumped with a mix of unease and excitement. “A pleasure to see you again, cariño,” he murmured.