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In the Argentine's Bed / Secret Baby, Public Affair: In the Argentine's Bed
Yvonne Lindsay
Jennifer Lewis
In the Argentine’s Bed Jennifer Lewis Susannah Clarke had to find out whether winemaker Amado Alvarez was a New York millionaire’s long-lost son. He’d give her the DNA she wanted – if she spent the night with him! And in a moment of madness, she’d given in to his demand and to her own desire. Now she had to face the consequences of that one unforgotten, unforgettable night in a stranger’s bed…Secret Baby, Public Affair Yvonne Lindsay She’d run from a disastrous betrayal straight into the arms of a sexy Italian aristocrat. From the moment they met, Blair Carson had been under Draco Sandrelli’s spell. She’d fallen into their affair with total abandon, without thought and now she was pregnant by a man she barely knew. Draco had never once uttered the word “love”.



In the Argentine’s Bed
by Jennifer Lewis
What on earth was I thinking? Susannah asked herself. How could I have given myself to this man?
She swallowed hard. The sun glinted off Amado’s proud profile. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal tanned and muscled forearms. He was gorgeous.
But that was no excuse. She’d have to do her best to stay far away from him while he was in New York. Then he’d go back to Argentina and no one would be any the wiser.
“Why are you backing away from me?”
She froze, unaware that her body had been trying to put a safe distance between them. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” He took a step towards her. Desire throbbed in her veins as her body responded to the raw power of his gesture. “But don’t think you can walk away from me now…”

Secret Baby, Public Affair
by Yvonne Lindsay
“How long were you going to wait before telling me?” he demanded, his voice like velvet over steel.
She decided to try to bluff him out, then abruptly changed tack, choosing to attack him on his own terms. “I could ask you the same thing. How long were you going to wait before telling me you’d bought this building? I never stood a chance to buy out, did I?”
“You would have known in good time, Blair. Now, it is not like you to be unwell and I assume it can be due to only one thing. So, I will ask you again. How long were you going to wait before telling me you were pregnant?”
“Until never!”
“Wrong answer.”
He covered the short distance between them in the blink of an eye. One arm curved around her back, holding her captive against his body. And, darn it, her body responded instantly to his touch.

In The
Argentine’s Bed
By

Jennifer Lewis
Secret Baby,
Public Affair
By

Yvonne Lindsay


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)

Table of Contents
Cover Page (#udd394ba6-5311-5eb6-9272-359c44b60951)
Excerpt (#u64f8f93e-e41c-56a8-9576-daed4a27a1f8)
Title Page (#u0504620a-f43d-554b-ba91-2a7de3387643)
In The Argentine's Bed (#u385fad54-d5f1-5c44-b7ee-808a79785a09)
Dear Reader (#u7fffbc3c-683c-50fc-9138-d8671b8b9544)
About the Author (#u3c4e480c-72c8-5971-bb2f-1f91797c1426)
Dedication (#u520bc8e0-1487-5f21-9fd7-60cc588e7906)
Acknowledgment (#udd16dda6-5ca0-5002-b577-16f91d333782)
Chapter One (#ue039af59-8670-587b-9a32-fe41a2b1ca20)
Chapter Two (#u6ccfcb54-4d0b-5b54-8ca2-cb2755b159e2)
Chapter Three (#ufe5e86ae-17a7-5f69-8a9b-d5f775d259bb)
Chapter Four (#u79a9b427-a5d3-5d7c-8dc8-4cdd41dc7bd9)
Chapter Five (#ud6bd022e-5884-5b1f-a8bd-aa063e0ad1a7)
Chapter Six (#u6a898e50-d8b9-5f4a-9c4e-258f6c94d7f0)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Secret Baby, Public Affair (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Preview (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

In The
Argentine’s Bed
By

Jennifer Lewis
Dear Reader,
The seed for this book was planted while I was out walking with my friend and neighbour, Ana, and she mentioned that her family came from Argentina’s wine country. Once I learned that the Mendoza wine-growing region is nestled at the foot of the majestic Andes mountains and irrigated by melt water from the snowy peaks, I became fascinated.
In recent years the area has experienced a boom in productivity and popularity, since local altitudes and sun exposure combine to create a terroir that produces unique and intense flavours. I learned a lot about the passionate wine makers of the area and their beautiful estates from www.vinesofmendoza.com and naturally I also enjoyed some delicious liquid research.
This land of colourful history, breathtaking scenery and rich flavours seemed the perfect setting for a tale of intrigue and passion. I hope you enjoy Susannah and Amado’s story.
Jennifer Lewis
Jennifer Lewis has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember and is thrilled to be able to share them with readers. She has lived on both sides of the Atlantic and worked in media and the arts before she grew bold enough to put pen to paper. Happily settled in New York with her family, she would love to hear from readers at jen@jen-lewis.com. Visit her website at www.jenlewis.com.
To Ana, my ally in many adventures.

Acknowledgement:
Thanks once again to the generous people who read
this book while I was writing it, including Amanda,
Anne, Betty, Carol, Cynthia and Leeanne, and my agent
Andrea. Special thanks to Liliana and Marina, creators
of www.universeofromance.com.ar/harlequineras
for their enthusiasm and assistance.

Chapter One
How do you make a complete stranger hand over his DNA?
Susannah Clarke’s rental car was almost totally out of gas. She’d known the Tierra de Oro estancia was well outside Mendoza, Argentina, and had planned accordingly. But the car and its fuel tank were tiny, and everything else here was on a much grander scale than she’d imagined.
Including her own trepidation.
To her right, the sun glittered amongst the high, snow-dusted peaks of the Andes. Around her lay the fertile plain that supported some of the finest vineyards in the world.
As she turned off the highway, the needle on the fuel meter hovered below zero. Come on, just a little farther. She didn’t want to run out of gas and have to walk the rest of the way to the house with her news. “Hey, I think you’re my boss’s illegitimate son—got a gallon of gas to spare?”
She swallowed hard as a building came into view.
Deep breath.
She eased off the accelerator, anxious to stretch the last few drops of gas as far as they’d go. Rows of cypress trees now lined the drive, shading it from the bright sun. An elegant painted sign pointed to the right, where she could see a large brick structure against the backdrop of mountains. The Tierra de Oro Bodega, or winery.
She pressed on toward the house. For once she wasn’t coming to talk to the chief viticulturist about which kinds of grapes thrived in the local soils or how many cases Hardcastle Enterprises wanted for its flagship restaurant.
The avenue of cypress widened into a lush garden, surrounding a lovely old house with a red-tiled roof and wide, arched windows.
This is it.
She pulled the stick-shift car to a jerky stop in front of the paneled wood doorway. She opened the car door and stepped out, her heart thudding.
Then she heard the barking. Loud, guttural and getting closer with every second. Two huge white dogs bounded around the side of the house and careened toward her across the gravel.
Holy—
Susannah staggered back and struggled with the car door handle, her brain crowded with visions of being eaten alive on Amado Alvarez’s doorstep.
It wouldn’t open.
The worn door handle had apparently done enough work today.
“Help!” she finally cried, in Spanish, as the first giant animal leaped toward her, jaws wide.
It jumped on her, knocking her against the car as the other dog barked and growled from a few feet away. Pain shot through her elbow when it collided with the half-open window. “Help!”
The front door flew open and she heard a gruff male command. The dogs immediately backed away and sat, panting innocently. Susannah struggled to catch her breath, still flattened against the side of her tiny rental car.
A tall man came down the steps in a loping stride. “I apologize for my dogs’ overenthusiastic greeting.”
He spoke in Spanish. And why wouldn’t he? He had no idea who she was.
His dark brown hair dipped seductively to almond-shaped eyes. The soft drape of his khakis and creamcolored shirt revealed broad shoulders, slim hips and long, powerful legs.
He was handsome.
And about thirty. The age of Tarrant Hardcastle’s missing son.
Her heart, already pumping hard from the near-death encounter, beat faster.
She shoved out her hand. “At least you don’t have to worry about burglars.”
He smiled. A slightly lopsided grin. White teeth against suntanned skin. Susannah found her heart fluttering for reasons that had nothing to do with fear as he grasped her palm in a warm handshake.
Did she imagine it, or did he give her hand a suggestive squeeze? Mischief shimmered in those wicked brown eyes.
Susannah was good at reading people and she could tell this man was used to getting his way.
His features were aristocratic, elegant. His long, slightly aquiline nose tapering to tear-shaped nostrils. Everything about him telegraphed ease and comfort in his surroundings.
He snapped his fingers and the two giant hounds scampered to his feet and crouched there, tongues hanging, as they gazed adoringly up at him. “Apologize to the lady.” He raised his hand in a gesture, and the dogs immediately turned. Then he snapped his fingers and they sprawled at her feet.
“I’m impressed.”
“Cástor and Pólux are usually well-behaved. I don’t know why they got so worked up.” He paused, and let his arrogant gaze drift over the front of her blue jacket to the loose flowered cotton of her skirt. “Then again, maybe I do.” His eyes glittered with suggestion. “How may I help you?”
“Are you Amado Alvarez?”
“At your service.” He lowered his head in a mock bow. “Your name?”
“Susannah Clarke.” Susannah took a deep breath. “I…I have a private matter to discuss with you.”
His elegant brow crinkled slightly. “How intriguing. Do come in.” He indicated the wide stone steps in front of the open door.
He stood to one side as she climbed past him, her elbow still smarting from where his dog had smashed her against the car.
Of course, the news she brought might leave Amado Alvarez with far more than a bruised elbow.
He ushered her into a large living room with comfortable sofas arranged around a grand fireplace. The patter of massive dog feet followed them over the tiled floors.
“A private matter, you say?” He indicated for her to sit on one of the leather sofas. He sat next to her, but with enough distance to be polite. The dogs sprawled on a patterned rug in front of the unlit fireplace.
“Yes.” She knitted her fingers together. “Have you ever heard of Tarrant Hardcastle?”
Blood pounded in Susannah’s brain as he contemplated the question.
He shrugged. “No, should I have?”
“Well—” She twisted her fingers. If she blew this she could lose her job. “I’m not really sure how to say this, but he believes he’s your father and he’d like very much to meet with you.”
Amado’s eyes narrowed and his mouth widened into that crooked smile. “Is this some kind of joke? Who put you up to this? Tomás?”
She inhaled. “I’m afraid it’s not a joke. Tarrant believes he had an affair with your mother in Manhattan, back in the late 1970s, and that you are the result of that union.”
Amado’s face creased with amusement. “Manhattan? In New York?”
“Yes. She was there studying art. At least, that’s how Tarrant remembers it.”
Amado looked at her as if she’d just sprouted a third eye. “My mother…was studying art in New York City?” He let out a guffaw.
He turned his head. “Mamá!” His voice rang across the room. Susannah cringed as he called for his mother. A woman probably now in her fifties and living a respectable life, about to be confronted with a single indiscretion from many years ago that could upturn all of their lives.
She shrank into the sofa.
“What is it, sweetheart?” called a soft voice. Susannah rose to her feet as his mother entered the room. A short, rotund woman with fluffy gray hair, thick-framed glasses and navy orthopedic shoes.
Susannah blinked. Mrs. Alvarez was a stark contrast to Tarrant’s ex-beauty-queen, third wife.
Amado rose and kissed her. “Mamá, you’re going to love this. First, let me introduce you. Susannah Clarke, this is my mother, Clara Alvarez.”
“Delighted to meet you.” Clara shook Susannah’s hand gently. Her skin was soft, like her voice. Her pale blue eyes sparkled with warmth. “Have you traveled far?”
Susannah swallowed hard. “From New York.”
“Mamá, have you ever been to New York?”
Susannah could swear the older woman—and she looked to be close to seventy—suddenly changed. Her bearing stiffened, and her expression hardened. “Never.”
“Susannah seems to think you were studying art there in the 1970s.”
Clara Alvarez laughed. Not a natural laugh, though. A sharp, forced one. “What nonsense. I’ve never been farther than Buenos Aires. Why would she think such a crazy thing?”
Her eyes gleamed with suspicion—and reproof—as she glared at Susannah over the rims of her glasses.
Susannah hesitated. It was impossible to imagine Tarrant having an affair with this…little old lady. Even thirty years ago, she’d have been middle-aged. Tarrant’s current wife was half his age, if that.
“Excuse me, I have a pot on the stove.” Clara excused herself and bustled away.
“See what I mean?” Amado raised an eyebrow. “It pains me to say this, but I think you have the wrong Amado Alvarez.”
Susannah frowned. Alvarez was a common name…Could the researcher have made a mistake?
Tierra de Oro was the right place, though. And she’d been ordered not to return to Hardcastle Enterprises without a sample of this Amado Alvarez’s DNA.
Time was of the essence. Tarrant Hardcastle had already outlived his doctor’s projections, and if he was to meet his missing son before it was too late…
“The matter could be cleared up with a simple test. If you’d be so kind as to give me a DNA sample, I could get it processed immediately and we’d know the truth one way or the other.”
Amado’s eyes widened. “DNA? You want my blood?”
“It doesn’t have to be blood. In fact, a scraping from inside your mouth would be ideal.”
He clapped a large hand against one side of his face as if someone might attempt to gouge into it. “No.”
Clara reappeared, tugging a silver-haired man who stared at Susannah. Clara whispered so rapidly that Susannah couldn’t make out the words.
The dogs rose to their feet, sniffing tension in the air.
The older man strode up to Susannah and nodded a brusque greeting. “Young lady, I am Ignacio Alvarez and Amado is my son. Your business here is concluded. Allow me to escort you to your car.”
This man had brown eyes, like Amado, whereas Tarrant had blue. If Tarrant and Clara had an affair, surely Amado would have blue eyes?
“I…I,” Susannah groped for the right thing to say. If she went home without the DNA, Tarrant would be furious.
He’d probably fire her.
Or send her right back here.
Or both.
“Papá, I’m shocked at you.” Amado frowned and stepped between his father and Susannah. “This young woman may be mistaken in her quest, but she’s traveled all the way from New York and we’ve not even offered her refreshments.”
Susannah glanced from one man to the other. Amado was tall, over six foot—like Tarrant—whereas Ignacio was probably only five-eight or so. Still…
“Son, I really think that—”
Amado held up his hand. “Allow me to offer you a snack and some coffee. Or would you prefer wine?”
Susannah drew in a breath. “I’m a wine buyer for Hardcastle Enterprises.” Perhaps she could try to turn this into a business trip and come back to the more personal part later. “I’d love to sample your wines with a view to purchasing them for our restaurants.”
“Excellent. Mamá, please ask Rosa to prepare a bite for our guest. And a glass of the 2004 Malbec, to start.”
Susannah turned to find Ignacio staring at her, brows lowered. She jerked her gaze away. No surprise he was upset that she’d suggested his son wasn’t his.
Clara had vanished, possibly to slip poison into a glass of 2004 Malbec.
“Which varietals do you grow here at Tierra de Oro?” She put on a brave professional smile.
“Mostly Cabernet Sauvignon and Malbec, but we’re fortunate to have a variety of elevations and microclimates, so we experiment constantly with new vines.” Amado’s expression had smoothed. He looked comfortable again. “Why don’t we go outside and I’ll show you?”
He led her across the living room, past the glaring Ignacio, and out onto a stone patio with a view over the southern portion of the estate. Row upon row of leafy vines traced the gentle contours of the land, rising into the foothills of the majestic Andes. The lush growth gave no hint of the effort needed to tease productive plants from the relatively arid soil of the area.
“It’s a special place.”
The words drifted out of Susannah’s mouth without her really meaning to say them. The light had a strange quality that rather dazzled her. Bright but somehow soft.
Harsh, yet…loving.
Maybe all those hours of travel had addled her brain.
Amado stared across the rolling terrain. “Yes. It is a special place.” A frown gathered on his proud brow. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Susannah froze. It occurred to her that if Amado was not Ignacio’s son, he might lose his right to run the estate.
Suddenly the afternoon sunlight seemed blinding.
“How long has your family been here?”
“Forever.” He smiled. “Well, that’s how it feels. The first Alvarez came here in 1868 from Cádiz and married a local girl. We’ve been here ever since.”
“I can see why. It’s beautiful.”
The sun glinted off the snowcapped mountains. Vast and solid, they stretched almost to the end of the earth.
Susannah had never lived in one place for more than three years. She couldn’t even blame her missionary parents anymore. She’d moved about on her own as an adult.
“It’s changed a lot since then, of course, but we do our best to protect and care for the land.”
“Have you always grown grapes here?” She was careful to imply he was part of the Alvarez family.
“There’ve always been a few hundred vines, mostly for family consumption. Most of these—” he swept his arm across the acres and acres of rows “—have been planted in the last ten to fifteen years since I convinced my father to switch from beef to viniculture.”
The door behind them opened and a tiny, ancient woman, who made Clara look positively youthful by comparison, emerged carrying a tray with two glasses of wine and a plate with some pastries.
“Thank you, Rosa.” Amado took the tray and placed it on the stone wall that ringed the patio. Susannah smiled at Rosa—who returned her gesture with a flinty stare.
Gulp.
“The 2004 Malbec is one of our bestsellers. It’s won several awards and brought us international attention. See what you think.” He held out the glass. His dark eyes shone with anticipation that revealed his pride in his wine.
Susannah took it and admired the dark ruby color of the liquid against the white peaks and pale blue of the sky. She sniffed the bouquet—young, fruity—perhaps too much so for her taste. Then she sipped. A tiny taste, just enough to test the mouth-feel and waken her taste buds to the experience.
Amado hovered over her in silent expectation.
“Delicious.” No lie. It was bold and wonderful.
His lopsided grin revealed those even, white teeth as he raised his glass and sipped. “I agree. It’s okay to be proud of one’s own child, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.” She couldn’t help smiling. And sipping again. Enjoying the rich warm flavor of the sunbaked soil and the well-irrigated grapes grown in this stunning landscape. “How many cases do you have available for purchase?”
He threw back his head and laughed, giving her a lingering vision of his bronzed neck, muscles flexed, under the creamy-white collar of his shirt. “Getting down to business so soon? I’ve heard that you Americans don’t like to waste time. They weren’t kidding.”
Susannah blinked. Was her professional interest in the wine somehow inappropriate under the circumstances?
She was sure Tarrant would want this for Moon, the five-star restaurant atop his Manhattan retail palace. It would be excellent with the chef’s famous osso buco, and with the boeuf en croute. “Are you not interested in selling?”
“Of course I’m interested. Selling wine is my business.” His expression suggested he found the whole subject vastly amusing.
“Then, why are you laughing at me?” She hated how defensive she sounded.
“You’re so serious.” He lifted the plate. “Try some of Rosa’s alfajores.”
She picked up one of the pastries. It was somewhere between a cookie and a sandwich. Two layers of pastry glued together with…
She bit in. Caramel. Or, more accurately, dulce de leche.
Yum.
She flicked her tongue out to catch stray crumbs of pastry.
Amado’s dark gaze rested on her mouth. “Rosa is the finest cook in all of Mendoza.”
“I won’t argue with you. How many cases of these can I buy?”
He laughed, and she was relieved that at least now she had him laughing with her and not at her. But it was time to get back to her real business here. “Your parents seemed upset.”
He frowned. “Yes.”
Susannah took a deep breath. “As if they know something.” She hesitated, waiting for him to draw his own conclusions.
He looked out at the bright mountain peaks silhouetted against the clear blue sky. And didn’t say a word.
“They wanted to get rid of me because they don’t want you to hear what I have to say.” She stared right at him. “You know that, don’t you?”
He blinked. “I agree that their behavior was odd.”
Susannah sensed that confusion was a rare and difficult emotion for Amado Alvarez. He didn’t know quite how to deal with it. He wanted to say No, you’re wrong.
But he couldn’t.
Amado watched the summer breeze play in her long, dark hair and pull at the loose skirt of her dress. Slender and nervous, the lovely Susannah seemed embarrassed by her invasion of his privacy.
As well she might be.
What kind of mad story was this? Of course, he should dismiss it out of hand. He had in his office a birth certificate naming Clara and Ignacio as his parents. Ignacio had made a point of presenting it to him and telling him to keep it safe.
But why had his mother and father reacted so strangely to her arrival? They’d had some obnoxious visitors in the past, folks who’d enjoyed the wine too much, but he’d never seen his parents be less than civil.
What was going on?
He stepped closer, until he could smell her scent. Subtle, floral, in keeping with her demure, businesslike persona. “Why did you come here on this strange errand?”
“Tarrant Hardcastle is my boss. I travel for the company sourcing wines. I’m pretty sure I was chosen because I’m fluent in seven languages, including Spanish. Tarrant’s daughter Fiona offered to come, but they weren’t sure you’d speak English.”
“I do, you know,” he replied, in English.
“So I see.” She smiled, which revealed a row of delicate teeth. “Then they needn’t have sent me at all, but here I am.” She shrugged. “I do love my job and I’d like to keep it.”
“And for that you require a few ounces of my life’s blood.” He had no intention of complying with her request, but she was so serious that he couldn’t resist the urge to tease her.
“As I said before, a swab from the inside of your mouth…”
Amado winced, then an entertaining idea occurred to him. “Could you perhaps obtain it with a kiss?”
Her eyes widened, and he saw a flush of color deepen the smooth skin of her cheeks. Lovely.
She regained control of herself and lifted an eyebrow. “You mean take a cheek cell culture with my tongue?”
The thought of that quick pink tongue in his mouth made a predatory smile creep across his lips. “That, I might be able to subject myself to. If you were willing, of course.”
“I don’t think that would be very scientific. My DNA would be mixed in with yours.”
“All the better.” He stared at her mouth until her lips parted.
“Ha ha ha.” Her laugh sounded tinny and false. Good. He was making her nervous.
He cocked his head. “I’m ready and willing. You can take your sample right now, if you like.”
She narrowed her lovely dark eyes. “My best friend warned me about Argentine men.”
“Oh?” He let his gaze drift over her face and neck. Enjoyed the sensual curve of her mouth and the proud tilt of her chin.
She put her hands on her hips. “She said they’re very arrogant. Full of themselves.”
He fought the urge to say Yeah, and?
But he didn’t resist letting his eyes wander lower, to where her stance pulled her jacket taut over her firm, high breasts, then down to where her propped hands defined her waist all too sharply.
Her hips twitched slightly under his gaze. Desire crept through him. He couldn’t help staring as a sudden breeze pressed her gauzy skirt to her long, slim legs.
Susannah took her hands off her hips and crossed her arms defensively over her chest.
“I’ve never had a beautiful woman ask for my DNA before. I’m just considering all my options.” Amado raised his eyes again and confronted her with his open admiration.
Her prim and proper demeanor triggered an urge to see her unbuttoned and breathless. He’d like to take her to his bed and pleasure her. Make her forget all about DNA and someone’s child and the whole crazy idea.
“Why does your boss think that I, out of all the people in the world, am his son?”
“He hired a researcher a few months ago. I think he told her all he knew about the mothers, and when they’d had the children.”
Revulsion rose in his gut. “This man thinks he has several children he’s never met?”
She nodded. “It’s awkward. I haven’t met the researcher, but I was told they’d located you here. Maybe they’re just fishing in the hope that you’re the right person.”
“I can’t be, you know.” It simply wasn’t possible.
She shrugged and a half smile tilted her mouth. Tickled his urge to kiss it. “It does seem unlikely. I’m only here because I was asked to come.”
“Do you always do what you’re told?” He raised a brow.
“It depends on who’s asking, and how much I trust them.”
Her honest answer only intrigued him more.
“Then how about I’ll give you a sample of my DNA—just to prove you’re wrong, of course—if you’ll spend the night in my bed.”

Chapter Two
Susannah’s mouth hung open for a second before she managed a laugh. “That’s one way to collect DNA. I’m not sure your parents would approve.”
Ignacio Alvarez burst through the doors onto the patio as if he’d been listening. Susannah recoiled in horror at the realization that he probably had. Clara followed close behind him, plucking anxiously at his jacket.
Cool and calm, Amado raised the bottle. “Will you join us for some wine?”
Ignacio’s bushy silver brows lowered. “Amado, we have urgent business to discuss.”
“I can imagine no business more urgent than entertaining Miss Clarke. As you heard, she’s a buyer for an important New York wine retailer. We’ve spoken about bringing our wines to the States. This could be the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”
He shot her a sly wink.
Susannah managed to keep her features composed.
“She’s arrived unannounced. There is no record of her appointment.” Ignacio glared at her.
Tarrant’s office had made multiple calls trying to set up an appointment, and had been pointedly ignored. Most likely by Ignacio. That was the reason she’d been forced to arrive unannounced.
Her curiosity deepened. She glanced at Clara, who stood in the doorway, eyes wide and anxious.
“Dad, why does Susannah’s presence here make you so uncomfortable? Surely you don’t believe her crazy story about me being her boss’s illegitimate son?” He smiled as if it was a great joke.
Ignacio’s weathered brow creased into a frown. “Of course not,” he growled. “It’s ridiculous and downright offensive. I don’t wish base accusations to tarnish our reputation. Who knows what ugly rumors such scandalous talk might generate?”
“You can’t have a rumor without something to talk about. And there’s nothing to discuss, right?” Amado leveled a dark and challenging stare at his father. Clearly, his parents’ odd behavior was making him suspicious.
And curious.
“She must leave, dear,” Clara piped up in her soft voice. “It’s for the best. We don’t want people to talk.” She wrung her plump hands.
“Have you both taken leave of your senses? Of course we want people to talk. We want the words ‘Tierra de Oro’ on everyone’s lips.” He tilted his chin to them, defying them to disagree. “I want Susannah to return to New York, unable to stop talking about our wines.” He shot her a winning smile. “In fact, we were about to head to the winery, so I can make her comfortable in the tasting room.”
Susannah’s eyes widened. Still, she wasn’t going to argue. As long as he wasn’t throwing her out.
Ignacio spluttered and Clara issued a breathy plea for him to talk to his father, but Amado slipped his arm into Susannah’s and led her past the troubled pair, through the living room, and out into the drive.
For a split second it occurred to her that he was going to pack her into her car. Get rid of her as his parents had demanded.
But instead he pulled open the passenger door of a large Mercedes sedan parked in the shade.
She climbed in, wondering if she’d live to regret it.
And if he’d live to regret not throwing her off the property. “You must be very close to your parents, to still live with them.”
“They don’t live here. They built a modern house near the winery. They’re always hovering around, though. I think they worry about me. They keep badgering me to find a nice girl and settle down.”
His wicked smile confirmed that he had no intention of obeying their wishes.
“They’re right to be worried.” Susannah raised an eyebrow. “You seem to be looking for trouble.”
“You’re wrong. Trouble has come looking for me.”
His heavy lidded stare made her legs wobble.
She was in trouble. At least she would be if she didn’t find a nice way to turn down his bold invitation to spend the night in his bed, yet still get her sample.
She couldn’t go home without the sample. If it proved Amado wasn’t Tarrant’s son, then there might still be time to find the right person before Tarrant died. She couldn’t forgive herself if incompetence on her part denied him the chance to meet his child. She had to get Amado to agree.
Still, she didn’t want to press her point too hard and scare him off. He did seem intrigued by the prospect of doing business with Hardcastle Enterprises. Maybe she could somehow use that to persuade him to go along with her request.
She leaned back in the leather passenger seat and cleared her throat. “How many cases of wine do you produce each year?”
Amado chuckled, staring ahead out the windshield. “Changing the subject? I guess you don’t need my DNA so badly after all.” His lips hitched into a sensual smile. “I’m disappointed.”
His gaze lingered. Would he dignify her question with an answer? And what would she do if he didn’t?
She wished she could be a witty flirt like her best friend Suki. Being the daughter of devout missionaries didn’t really prepare you for situations like this.
His big hands rested on the steering wheel. “Last year we produced nearly four thousand cases. This year, there’ll be more, as several hundred new rows are coming into full production.”
“You’re growing fast.”
“We have to if we’re going to make a name for ourselves.”
She nodded. “Are you trying to expand your markets overseas?”
“Absolutely. I’d especially like to expand into North America.” His expression was entirely genuine, nothing sexual about it.
Somehow that touched her. “If your other wines are as good as this, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble securing distribution.”
“We’re still small, so it must be the right distribution. Outlets where our wines will reach the right people.”
“Where they’ll be appreciated.”
“Exactly.”
Amado drove the familiar road apparently by instinct. His eyes seemed mostly to rest on her face, which heated under his intense gaze.
She struggled to keep her composure. “I think Hardcastle Enterprises could do a lot for you. In addition to our restaurants, we offer a boutique wine-selecting service for our customers. We keep their cellars stocked with the very best wines available that year.”
Amado’s keen interest was written all over his handsome features as they pulled into a parking area behind the large, stone winery building. “I look forward to showing you our winery. I’m confident you’ll enjoy our wines.”
Susannah resisted a triumphant smile. Finally, she had some real leverage. If she played her cards right, she could get the DNA she needed.
Was it the flattering glow of sunset, or was Amado getting more ridiculously handsome than ever?
Susannah sat at a wide, polished table, rows of fine-stemmed glasses in front of her, their shimmering contents ranging in color from darkest garnet to palest silver.
Across the table, standing, Amado inhaled the bouquet of a youngish red, sipped it, then tossed his head back to swallow with a lavish gesture.
He’d rolled up his creamy-white sleeve to reveal a tan forearm, and she couldn’t help imagining the rest of his body would be equally hard and well-formed.
The tasting room was warm, and she’d removed her jacket. Her nipples stood to attention inside the loose-fitting top of her dress. The curved chair with its velvet padding was deliciously comfortable after the long drive crunched into her tiny rental car, and she longed to stretch like a cat.
She felt downright…tipsy. She’d blame the wine, but as an experienced taster she knew how to sip tiny amounts that couldn’t possibly get her inebriated.
At least she thought she did.
Amado poured Chardonnay into a glass. The pale liquid sparkled in the afternoon sun streaming in through the tall windows.
She inhaled then tasted. Flavor tingled across her tongue and caressed her throat with its smooth, golden warmth.
Like Amado, the wines seemed to be getting more delicious by the minute.
“Tierra de Oro—is there real gold in the earth around here?” She set the glass back on the table.
“I don’t think so. If there ever was, it’s long gone. The only gold around at Tierra de Oro is the kind stored in bottles.” He caressed a stemmed glass of pale liquid between finger and thumb.
Susannah’s belly shivered in response.
“I enjoy this kind of gold much more than the metal.”
“It costs less per ounce but gives more pleasure.” Amado’s smile revealed his white teeth.
Why did he have to be so great-looking?
And she was entranced by the way he treated the wine like a sacred liquid. He handled the bottles as if they were sentient—firm yet gentle.
The way he might handle her if he removed her dress and layered kisses over her breasts and belly.
Susannah sat upright as a rush of heat swept through her. “It’s getting late. I’d better go to my hotel.”
Amado frowned. “What hotel?”
“Any hotel.” She hadn’t booked a room, as she wasn’t sure if she’d have to stay locally, or if she could just head back to the city.
Apparently, she’d have to stick around for one more night to talk him into giving the DNA sample. What if he balked tomorrow, as well?
“There are no hotels here.”
She groaned. The vineyard was over two hours from Mendoza. If she returned there for the night, she’d have to drive back here in the morning to resume her campaign.
“Where do people usually stay?”
He blinked. Innocent. “Here.”
“At the winery?”
“In my house.” He picked up a three-year-old Cabernet. The tapered glass bottle looked slender and delicate in his big hands.
She could picture those broad palms and long fingers spanning the dip of her waist. “I’d prefer a hotel.”
He shrugged. “As I said. There isn’t one. This is the country, not a tourist destination.”
His polite smile warred with the mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. “And Rosa will cook you a very fine dinner.”
“But what about your parents? They can’t wait for me to leave.”
“Don’t worry about them. They have their own house and I’ve made my feelings clear. They won’t interfere again.” His expression softened. “You’ll find my home quite comfortable. You’re the only one here, so you can have your pick of the rooms. In the morning, we can conclude our business.”
Perhaps he’d give her what she wanted if she stayed overnight. And it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go.
“It looks like I’m at your mercy. I mean, thanks for your hospitality.”
He laughed. She couldn’t help smiling. Truth be told, she didn’t mind staying. Not because she had any intention of personally extracting Amado’s DNA, but because everything about Tierra de Oro was so enchanting. The breathtaking views, the lush vines, the comfortable well-kept buildings.
And the wine had mellowed her out something wicked. She wasn’t even sure she should drive. Not to mention that she still had no gas.
And she couldn’t leave without his DNA.
“My offer still stands.”
“Which offer was that?”
He leveled a challenging gaze at her. “Whichever one you prefer.”
Susannah stowed her bag in a guest bedroom, committing herself to stay the night, one way or another.
As promised, dinner was sensational. A classic Argentine meal with locally raised steaks, fresh-picked vegetables and glass after glass of Amado’s magnificent wines.
Silent and catlike, Rosa served their food in the grand dining room. Instead of family portraits, the walls were lined with oil paintings of massive, rectangular-shaped bulls, each frame adorned with a gold nameplate.
“I guess someone loved cows.”
“My great grandfather. My grandfather. And my father.” Amado sipped his wine. “Tierra de Oro was known throughout Argentina for its breeding stock.”
“Do you still breed them?”
“My father does, but it’s a hobby at this point. Not profitable. That’s why I started the vineyard.”
“You?”
“Yes.” He looked at her quizzically. “Why are you surprised?”
“Well, you’re only thirty.” She blanched when she realized she’d assumed that the research was correct and he was in fact Tarrant’s son. “Aren’t you?”
“As it happens, I am thirty. But I was fooling around in the fields and growing things by the time I was eight. By age eleven, I’d hybridized a Syrah that got people talking. My neighbor Santos taught me a lot. He’s ninety now and one of the true geniuses of winemaking. He helped me persuade my father to let me plant grapes in our pastures. By the time I was eighteen, we’d planted seventy hectares of vines.” He nodded at her glass. “You’re drinking their fruit now.”
“So, you skipped right over watching Power Rangers and Real World TV shows.”
Amado smiled. “When the TV broke, no one cared—except Rosa. She missed her telenovelas.”
“Thank God your father finally came to his senses and bought a satellite dish.” The silvery voice made Susannah whip her head around. Rosa stood right behind her. A stern expression still tightened her inscrutable and impossibly ancient face.
Amado laughed. “Now she’s addicted to CNN broadcasts.”
She clucked her tongue.
“Someone’s got to keep the Alvarez family in touch with the modern world. Otherwise, all you’d do is fondle grapes and stick your hands up a cow’s backside.”
Susannah almost spewed her wine and Amado bent his head in laughter.
Rosa bustled away with an empty serving dish. Susannah leaned forward and whispered. “She’s a character. How old is she?”
Amado blew out a breath. “Probably older than the mountains. She’s certainly been here longer than anyone else. Every other person around here is her grandchild or great grandchild. For years I’ve been trying to convince her to retire and take it easy in her old age. She flaps her dishcloth at me and says she’d just as soon be dead.”
“What do you do around here for fun?”
“What could be more fun than testing the soil for nitrates?” Amado tilted his head and regarded her with mock seriousness. “What can I say? I love my work.”
“I know how you feel. I love mine, too.” She indicated the delicious meal spread before them. “I’m working right now. It’s a tough job, but, well, you know.”
“You traveled a long way. The least I can do is give you a good meal.”
“Much appreciated. I’m used to traveling though. I’m on the road about eighty percent of the time.”
Amado’s lips parted in dismay. “You’re away from home most of the year?”
Susannah shrugged. “My home is a featureless, one-room apartment in a busy part of Manhattan. It’s just a place to keep my stuff. I’m happiest when I’m out and about.”
He stared at her. “Where are you from originally? I mean, where did you grow up?”
She forced a bright smile. Here we go. “Everywhere. I was born in a tiny village in the Philippines where my parents set up a primary school. When I was eighteen months old, my parents moved to Burkina Faso to take over a mission there. When I was three, we moved to Papua, New Guinea. I turned six in a small village in Southern India, but that placement didn’t work out, so I had my seventh birthday in Columbus, Ohio while my parents attended a retreat there. Then we were back on the road to Honduras, El Salvador, Paraguay and Bolivia, which is why I speak fluent Spanish.”
The canned account of her strange childhood rattled out like a recorded recap.
“Your parents were missionaries?”
“You got it.” She raised her glass in a mock cheer. She was used to the sideways glances and snide remarks. Her parents were good people and they did what they thought was right.
Surprise trickled through her as she noticed Amado wasn’t mocking. He looked interested. “It must have been hard when you were a kid. To keep leaving your friends and your familiar environment.”
She shrugged. “I never lived any other way, so I guess I’m used to it. Their specialty is setting up programs and finding the right local people to run them. Then they move onto the next place. I guess the lifestyle shaped me, because I’m happiest when I’m moving from place to place.”
She realized Amado was staring at her with a look of…was it pity?
“What?”
He shook his head, as if shaking loose a painful thought. “Nothing. I guess it’s great that you love to travel. Everyone’s different.”
“You’re horrified, aren’t you?”
“No.” He laughed. “Okay, maybe a little. I don’t even like to go away on business for a few days. I feel like my roots have been pulled from the soil and I can’t wait to get back home and plant them among the grape vines again.” His wry expression suggested that he was a little embarrassed by his deep attachment to his home.
That touched her. What would it feel like to be so deeply rooted in a place—in one special place—that you felt like you truly belonged there?
Amado’s brows gathered. “Are you okay? More wine?”
Her face must be giving too much away. “I guess I’m just tired from all the traveling.”
He nodded, sympathetic. “Of course. Well, tonight, you are home in Tierra de Oro where I will take good care of you.” He rose and held out his hand to lift her from her chair.
His genial gaze rested on her face. “Come into the living room and we’ll light a fire. The nights are still cool and a fire warms the soul as well as the body.”
Susannah blinked as his words and the touch of his hand stoked a very different kind of fire.
He held her hand—casually—as he led her into the spacious living room and settled her into the butter-soft leather sofa in front of the grand carved-stone fireplace.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He offered her a knitted throw from a drawer. She shook her head.
He stroked it. “It’s pure alpaca, from the mountains. Soft as the clouds that gather in the foothills.” His sparkling gaze challenged her to resist.
“Well, if you put it that way.” She let him drape it over her shoulders. Soft as a breath. And somehow the caress of his strong hands transmitted through the lush fabric.
She slipped her shoes off, and put them on the floor. When she looked up, the fire was already lit and blazing.
“How did you do that? It takes me half an hour to get a fire going.” Sometimes even the fake logs sputtered out in her tiny apartment fireplace.
Amado shrugged. “Good kindling. Old wine barrels are the best.” He smiled. “And we have a steady supply.”
Without a word of warning, he seized her left foot and began to massage the sole with his broad thumb.
Susannah’s mouth fell open.
Sometimes she was ticklish, but right now she had no urge to laugh. The penetrating motions of his thumb and fingers sent sensations ricocheting through her foot, up her leg and all over her body.
She should protest. This was far too intimate. But no words came to her mouth, and Amado just went about the task as if it was a service he provided to all guests.
He knelt at her feet. His dark hair hung in his eyes and she couldn’t make out his expression. All she could see was the subtle movement of muscles in his bronzed forearms and powerful hands as he worked the day’s tension—heck, the entire year’s tension—out of her muscles with a deft, firm touch.
A long exhale escaped her.
“Ahh.” Amado smiled as he looked up. His hands didn’t even pause in their expert massage. “Now you’re starting to relax.”
His fingers worked his way up her instep and over her heel. Thank goodness she’d worn smart, silk panty hose.
“You take good care of your feet.” Her sole buzzed deliciously as he went to work on the second foot. “They’re strong and healthy.”
Susannah laughed. “They’d better be with all I put them through.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll walk in the vineyards. You can stay tomorrow, can’t you?” The sudden concern in his eyes tugged at something inside her. Why did he care if she stayed or went?
“I’ll be here. I can’t go home without your DNA. I could get fired.”
Amado frowned and his fingers stopped their vigorous and soothing movements. “You’ll get fired by the guy who’s supposed to be my father? What kind of man is this?”
“A demanding one.” She tried not to pay attention to the way he cradled her foot in his hands. “He expects the best from all his employees.”
“Surely he can’t fire you for something I’ve done, or rather, refused to do?”
“Sure he can. He’d see it as firing me for my failure to execute.”
Amado looked thoughtful. Then he bent his head and resumed his precise massage. Susannah tried not to wriggle on the sofa as he nailed one pressure point after another, creating sensations of deep relaxation and startling pleasure.
She allowed herself to sink back into the cushions. To let go.
A night in Amado’s bed in exchange for the DNA sample.
Her skin tingled at the prospect of those magic hands roaming…all over it. She suppressed a shiver of anticipation.
She was sure he’d keep the bargain. There was something old-world about him. He positively reeked of honor and integrity.
And sensuality. Their eyes met. Desire darkened his eyes and a spark of…something leaped between them.
Amado settled her feet gently on the ground. He rose and crossed the room.
She exhaled with relief as his intense and dangerously handsome presence receded into the shadows.
Spend the night in my bed.
His words from earlier—spoken half in jest, no doubt—seemed to hover in the air, thickening it. The crackling fire echoed the heat building and snapping inside her.
She hadn’t made love in a long time.
Actually—not to put too fine a point on it—she hadn’t made love ever. She’d had sex, but not for, oh…well, it was just plain embarrassing to think about how long it had been.
She was busy.
Always on the move.
Was there something wrong with having a sensual fling with an interested male? People did it all the time.
Her coworkers regaled their lurid exploits around the cappuccino machine in the office every Monday. Some of their stories made her jaw drop. They weren’t saving themselves for Mr. Right any more than they had been in college. They lived for the moment.
They had fun.
Why couldn’t she have some fun too, for a change?
Her ears pricked up at an exchange between Amado and Rosa. A minute later she heard Rosa leave, closing the door behind her.
She tensed in anticipation at the sound of Amado’s decisive footsteps on the polished floor. He reappeared with two steaming white mugs.
And she’d get the DNA. Tarrant would be happy. She’d keep her job.
If Amado wasn’t his son, which she suspected, there’d be no harm done.
If he was, Amado would no doubt inherit some of Tarrant’s billions.
The retail tycoon was terminally ill and might have only weeks to live. He was trying desperately to find and embrace his long-neglected, illegitimate offspring before he died.
Either way, she’d be doing a good deed.
Right?
Amado handed her a mug. His dark eyes narrowed. “You have a strange expression on your face.”
“Me?” She let out a high, false laugh. “I’m just getting mesmerized by the fire, or something.”
Emphasis on the or something.
She sniffed the contents of the cup. “Coffee at this time of night? Won’t it keep us awake?”
Amado’s mouth hitched slightly on one side. Something resembling a smile—or rather a wicked grin—crept across his face so slowly she wondered if she was imagining it. “Sometimes it’s good to be awake at night.”
He settled into the sofa beside her. Close. His muscled thigh brushed against her skirt.
Her pulse quickened.
The heat of his body mingled with the warmth of the fire and her own elevated body temperature.
What if Tarrant found out she’d slept with the man he thought was his son?
She swallowed hard. He wouldn’t.
Amado would never tell. The old-world-honor thing. She sensed that he kept his emotions close to his chest. They’d spent hours together and while he’d talked about each of his wines like a beloved mistress, there’d been no mention whatsoever of his personal life.
She also suspected that—like his charming vineyard tour and his expert foot massage—he did this quite often.
Which, rather than alarming her, actually took the pressure off.
She sensed his steady dark gaze on her as she sipped her drink. Mmm. Sticky, rich, dulce de leche sweetened the coffee.
“Where does your family live now?”
His question jarred her out of the sensual fog she’d drifted into. “You mean my parents?”
He frowned. “Yes, and your brothers and sisters.”
“I don’t have any brothers and sisters. There’s just me. My parents are back in the Philippines. They’re running a program there for at-risk teens.”
“They sound like good people.”
“They are. I wish I was more like them. Or at least I feel I should wish that. But someone’s got to devote their life to finding the best wines in the world, don’t you think?”
Her words rang in the still air. Heat crept up her neck, embarrassment that she’d laid bare her insecurities.
Amado didn’t blink. “Each of us has his or her own path. By trying to follow the wrong one, you do a disservice to yourself and to others.” He laid a big, reassuring hand on her arm. “And I can’t think of a more worthy pursuit than the quest for excellent wine.” He tilted his head and his eyes glittered. “But then, I’m biased.”
Her arm heated under his palm. He was close enough that she could smell his scent. She distracted herself by trying to analyze it.
Complex aroma, rich and appealing. A risky but invigorating blend of coffee, fermented grapes, burnt wood and hardworking male.
Full and robust bouquet. The finish might well be bittersweet…but worth it.
His palm moved over her forearm. Not really going anywhere, just moving back and forth. Stroking her.
She glanced at his face, but he didn’t look up. He seemed intent on the simple motion. Was this some kind of weird Argentine seduction trick?
If it was, it appeared to be working. Strange sensations bubbled inside her. When his hand slid to her thigh, resting lightly on it through the thin fabric of her skirt, it felt as natural and unthreatening as a handshake.
Or a kiss on the cheek.
Amado’s lips brushed her cheekbone so lightly she wondered for a moment if she’d imagined it or simply wished it.
The second time his mouth rested for a moment right beside hers, until her lips stung with anticipation. His breath heated her skin.
His hand slid up her thigh, bringing her dress with it, until the hem climbed over her knee.
She realized she was leaning toward him. Since it felt so natural, she leaned closer, her nipples tight and tingling under her blousy top.
She slid one arm around him, aware of his muscled back through the soft fabric of his shirt.
Amado’s bare palm on her thigh made her gasp. He’d hiked her skirt up almost to her underwear and warmth from the fire baked her skin.
She glanced at his face. His eyes were closed, his expression simple and familiar: the intense appreciation of a connoisseur.
Susannah’s eyes slid shut as his mouth claimed hers, hot and ready. She could feel his body heat through their clothes. Almost without thinking, she pulled gently at his shirt until it came loose from his pants in the back, then she slid her fingers over the firm ridges of muscle on either side of his spine.
Excitement built inside her as their kiss deepened. Heat gathered between her legs and desire thickened inside her.
It had been a long time since she’d kissed anyone. Usually she avoided personal entanglements. She was busy, she traveled a lot, and she didn’t need the drama.
But this was perfect. They both knew what they wanted, and there was a neat and tidy ending already in sight.
Unless he was Tarrant’s son, of course. A frisson of unease rippled through her.
But that was unlikely. With his dark coloring and smooth, sculpted features, Amado didn’t look like the angular, blue-eyed Tarrant. And Clara certainly didn’t fit the mold of Tarrant’s glamorous ex-lovers.
She shoved the potential complication from her mind.
Tonight would be a delicious interlude. A sweet taste of pleasure, like the sip of a wine she knew she wouldn’t buy for the company, but that she drank purely for her own enjoyment.
Amado cupped her breast in his broad hand, strumming her nipple until it peaked against his palm.
“Come with me,” he breathed the words in her ear.
He picked up her hand and squeezed it in his. Anticipation shone in his coffee-brown eyes.
She rose from the sofa, legs shivering. Her whole body tingled with arousal, from her scalp to the soles of her well-massaged feet.
He led her by the hand, the perfect gentleman, except that he was doing something a perfect gentleman would never do—seduce a virtual stranger.
Somehow that gave her an illicit thrill.
She’d always been the good girl, the minister’s daughter no one even dared to look at, let alone entice into bed. She’d been taught from toddlerhood to set a good example for those around her. To think about others and put her own needs aside.
For a long time, she never even knew she had needs.
Right now, as her belly throbbed with desire, she was aware of little else.

Chapter Three
Amado led Susannah past antique furniture and rugs glowing with the rich colors of natural pigments. The house had obviously been lovingly cared for by generations of grateful owners.
The stairway’s curved wood banister gleamed in the distant firelight. They exchanged a cautious smile.
Well, hers was cautious, his was encouraging.
Come into my chamber, said the spider to the fly.
But she was a willing fly, so why not?
Amado’s personal bedchamber was large, with velvet floor-length draperies covering the windows. A four-poster bed carved from dark wood dominated the space. The fluffy white duvet covered the high mattress like a low-hanging cloud, inviting Susannah to sink into its softness.
Amado rested his hand on her hip. He kissed her with exquisite gentleness, taking his time, savoring her.
She let her fingers roam over his shirt, enjoying the shape of him beneath the fabric. His body was hard and athletic, capable of speed and force. But his movements were tender, almost unbearably so, as he licked her lips, brushed them with his mouth, and nuzzled his cheek gently against hers.
His suntanned skin wasn’t exactly soft, but it wasn’t rough either. Everything about Amado seemed smooth and mellow, like a fine wine.
He pulled back slightly. “Let me make you at home in my bed.”
Her insides shimmered at the prospect. Amado’s dark eyes shone with simple desire that echoed her own. His forearms brushed the sides of her breasts, stirring delicious tremors of sensation, as he unhooked and unzipped the back of her dress.
He lowered the fabric over her shoulders to reveal her bra. She’d worn a pretty one today. Had she somehow known?
His big hands cupped the silver-gray satin and lace, and rubbed her nipples gently through the fabric. Susannah couldn’t help wriggling as arousal tingled over her skin. She reached for his shirt and pulled the buttons out through the soft fabric.
Amado’s chest was thickly muscled, with a narrow trail of hair descending from his belly button into the low-slung waist of his pants. A sturdy leather belt held the latter firmly closed, and she struggled with the stiff hide while Amado layered hot, breathy kisses over her neck.
His erection jutted beneath the buckle. She enjoyed a naughty sense of satisfaction at this proof that he was every bit as turned on and wound up as she was.
At last, she pulled the leather loose and tackled the fly of his pants. As she pushed the khaki fabric down over his hard thighs, her fingers trembled with excitement.
Amado eased her dress down, and squeezed her backside. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. He had a wide mouth with a bold, sensual cut. High cheekbones and a strong nose. The kind of looks that made women sigh and nudge each other.
Susannah was usually intimidated by extravagant good looks in a man. She didn’t want to deal with the oversize ego that came with them.
But with Amado, his proud features seemed a natural extension of everything she admired and liked about him: his passion and dedication, the confidence born of hardwon success.
Why shouldn’t you be arrogant, if you’d earned the right?
He unhooked the clasp on the front of her bra, and lifted the cups from her breasts. Tight with arousal, her nipples stung in the night air drifting through the open windows.
He eased the straps down over her arms, and placed her bra carefully on a chair, on top of her neatly folded dress.
With the same careful deliberation he lowered his head and licked her left nipple. The rough texture of his tongue on the supersensitive flesh made her gasp. At the same moment, he slid his fingers into her panties. She could feel herself slick against them.
Should she be embarrassed that her arousal was so obvious? She didn’t know what to think. Couldn’t think, as pleasure stole over her body.
Amado’s delight in her was palpable. She could sense his heart beating beneath his ribs, hear his deepening breaths as he sucked her nipples to peaks of pleasurable tension.
He eased her panties down over her thighs and placed them on the chair, then removed his underwear and stood facing her. They watched each other. Both naked, aroused, expectant.
His sturdy male body and the raw strength it implied appealed to her in a way she couldn’t begin to articulate or even understand.
But why should she? She didn’t need to analyze everything and understand it. She didn’t need to figure out how it all fit together.
“You see the world differently than other people.”
Amado’s low voice crept into her ear.
She blinked. “How?” Could he read her thoughts?
She felt naked. She was naked.
He stroked her chin. “You don’t see only the surface of things. You see inside them, too.”
“I’m not so sure. I don’t see inside you.”
His dark eyes fixed on hers.
“Yes, you do.”
She frowned. What did he think she was thinking? Should she ask? Her heart beat faster.
But she didn’t get a chance to ask because Amado’s bold mouth covered hers in a swift and forceful kiss.
At the same time, he swept her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and laid her on the duvet.
She sank into the thick, soft surface and Amado climbed over her. For a second, she wondered if he’d part her legs and enter her, and her belly tightened with a mix of fear and anticipation.
But he didn’t. He stretched himself out alongside her, skin to skin, his flat stomach against her hip, his long, hard thighs against hers, his muscled arm holding her close.
“Welcome home.” He nuzzled her ear and kissed her neck.
Susannah’s eyes widened as a powerful and deeply strange sensation flooded her.
Welcome home? What a weird thing to say. Still, no reason to get all worked up. It was probably his shtick for the tourists. It wasn’t like he actually meant it.
“Your brain is so busy,” he whispered. “Sometimes you just have to be.”
“To be what?” Her brain raced faster.
“You.”
“And who’s that?”
He kissed her ear, his warm breath sending shivers of heat dancing through her. “Just you.”
His gaze shone black in the scant silver moonlight creeping in around the draperies. “Your mouth.” He licked her lips, left them cool and humming.
“Your neck.” He bit it gently, a careful vampire.
“Your chest.” He brushed her breast with his cheek, then sucked each nipple in turn.
“Your stomach.” He blew hot air on her skin, making it shiver. Then he licked around her belly button and grazed her skin with his teeth. For a second, her womb seemed to yearn toward him and Susannah almost cried out from the odd and powerful sensation.
Maybe Suki was right to warn her about Argentine men. She’d never experienced anything like this before. Her previous sexual experience was a series of quick and embarrassed fumbles by comparison.
And they hadn’t even done anything yet.
“Stop thinking.”
Her insides contracted again, and ripples of pleasure washed through her.
What is this man doing to me?
He parted her legs and lowered his mouth between her thighs. He licked and sucked until her hips rose off the mattress and a high-pitched moan escaped her mouth.
Her eyes flew open and she glanced down to see his gaze gleaming in the moonlight.
“Just let go and be. With me.” His voice rasped, husky. His hair fell to his eyes, which fixed on her, dark slits of passion.
Already half insane with arousal, Susannah wriggled against him, enjoying the sensation of his hot, hungry mouth on her flesh. Fierce contractions rocked her, starting from his tongue—like the plug in an electric socket—and surging through her entire body in waves. They flung her against the bed where she cried out, again and again, as Amado moved his mouth over her, rocking her deeper into the crazy otherworld where there was no thought, only fierce and overwhelming pleasure.
Howling outside the windows penetrated her consciousness as her shuddering body collapsed back against the hot duvet.
“What’s that?” she gasped.
“The dogs.” Amado grinned. “They want to know what all the fuss is about.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. She could hear them yowling outside the window. “Did I make that much noise?”
“Yes.” He nuzzled her neck, his pleasure at her abandon written all over his face. “But don’t start thinking now.”
“I don’t know what…I’ve never…” Susannah frowned. Stray energy still whipped through her in uneven bursts.
“You never had an orgasm?”
“Is that what this is?”
Amado grinned. “Sure is. Feels good, huh?”
Susannah nodded.
Amado bent down and kissed her belly, which contracted tightly as his lips touched her. “You’re sensitive.” He looked up, eyes shining. “Very responsive.”
He leaned away from her and she heard him rip something. He turned and rolled a condom over his impressive erection. Susannah blinked.
He was so…matter-of-fact about it. Unembarrassed. Like this was a normal, everyday thing to do.
Maybe it was, for him.
He climbed over her and her skin tingled as he hovered above her. He nuzzled her neck again—how she loved that—and breathed in her ear. “You feel more than other people. That’s why you think too much. But it’s okay to simply feel.”
Susannah swallowed. Her brain wanted to make sense of his words but her body was utterly focused on Amado. He entered her in a single swift motion that pushed her into the soft mattress.
So aroused already, she couldn’t stop herself from climaxing again immediately. Tremors rippled through her. She could hear the sounds she was making, but she couldn’t do anything about them. Couldn’t prevent her arms from winding around his powerful torso and clutching him close.
“Oh, Amado.” She heard herself cry out his name as he moved inside her. He thrust into her, gentle, then harder, slow, then fast. Taking his time, then rushing until she climaxed again—and again—totally unable to control the spasm of her muscles and the shivering sneezes of sensation that racked her body.
She took him deeper, pleading with him in Spanish and in English and several other languages to take her and love her and hold her and make her his. To go faster and rougher and harder and…
Amado shouted as he climaxed. She opened her eyes in time to see his face in tortured ecstasy. He held her so tight she could barely breathe and they crashed into the mattress together with force. He panted, hugging her to him, moaning, as he throbbed inside her.
“Por amor.” His breath rasped against her ear.
Susannah blinked, blinded by even the tiny slivers of moonlight that played across the walls. Love?
It was probably just an expression. She didn’t know Argentine idioms.
Besides, her mind didn’t seem to work too well anymore. She was all body. All sensation, all touch and lick and soft, pliant wetness.
Amado’s head lay on her chest—he appeared to have collapsed from exhaustion, but she could see his eyes on her, wide and dark and filled with…amazement.
Susannah blew out a breath. The first hint of rational thought came sneaking back.
What the heck happened to you?
Had she really been yelping and panting so loud that she set the dogs off?
A flush spread over her already hot and sticky face.
As if they’d been listening, the dogs let out a chorus of enthusiastic barks.
Stray shards of the things she’d said—that she’d moaned and shouted—popped into her mind. Local idioms she’d learned over the years while being instructed never to use them under any circumstances. Words that had apparently lodged in her subconscious waiting for just this moment to make their appearance.
Amado still stared at her. Barely blinking.
“Are you okay?” Her words sounded oddly clinical in the thick lush silence of the night.
“No,” he breathed. “I’m much, much, much, better than okay.” He swallowed. “You?”
The words appeared to cost him great effort. How long had they been…Susannah bit her lip. It could have been hours. The poor man was exhausted.
Or was he? She thought she detected a sudden wicked gleam in his eye.
“You are a woman of many dimensions, Susannah Clarke.”
Far more than I’d previously suspected.
Susannah wasn’t sure it was a good thing to be capable of such total sexual abandon. Seemed the kind of trait that could get you into trouble.
At least her secret would be safe with Amado. Tierra de Oro was very far from New York. And surely no one would ever get her going like that again.
Thank goodness.
Amado’s breathing slowed and steadied. His muscles relaxed and grew heavier, as he pulled her closer to him. He shifted slightly, and let out a sigh.
He’d fallen asleep—on her.
Susannah couldn’t help a burst of silent laughter, and even the vibration of her chest didn’t stir him. He looked so sweet lying there, his handsome face nestled between her breasts and his arms wrapped securely around her torso.
Apparently he was quite at home with her in his bed. And why wouldn’t he be? She had no illusions that this was a rare occasion for him. He was gorgeous and an incorrigible flirt. She really didn’t even mind.
Did she?
She swallowed.
Didn’t want to think about that.
In a day or so she’d be back in New York, updating her database and checking on the deliveries she was expecting from vineyards all around the world.
Including Amado’s. Some of his wines were daring and successful to the point where she was sure Tarrant would want them for his own cellars.
Which meant she’d still have to deal with Amado.
Or not? Amado concerned himself with the aspects of the business that interested him, the hands-on growing and fermenting. He left the marketing and shipping to his capable staff.
Most likely she’d chat on the phone with a friendly assistant who’d give her the advertising spiel on the various wines and send her samples and…
Samples.
She couldn’t leave here without the DNA sample.
Susannah swallowed hard.
I’ll give you a sample of my DNA—just to prove that you’re wrong, of course—if you’ll spend the night in my bed.
She’d held up her end of the bargain.
But somehow, asking for his DNA now would be harder than ever.

Chapter Four
Susannah snuck out of Amado’s bed and back into her own room sometime before dawn. She needed to compose herself and regain her professional demeanor—or what was left of it—before she confronted him again.
His enormous white dogs greeted the sunrise with a chorus of enthusiastic baying. Heat crept up her neck when she heard the sound.
She dressed carefully in a plain black dress and arranged her hair into a chignon. It was too tangled to wear down. Her lips were red from kissing and she tried to tone down her flushed cheeks with loose powder.
There wasn’t anything she could do about the dazzled look in her eyes.
When she heard Rosa arrive in a car and start clattering around in the kitchen, Susannah took a deep breath and went downstairs, determined to act as if nothing had happened. Her offer to help was politely rebuffed so she sat in front of the unlit fireplace.
When breakfast was ready, Rosa yelled up to Amado. Susannah rose from the sofa and held her breath as his door creaked open.
Amado appeared, sleepy and disheveled, at the top of the stairs. He stopped when he saw her. Susannah swallowed as he rested his eyes on her and a smile spread over his face. He eased down the stairs on bare feet.
“Morning,” he whispered. His eyes had the same dazed look she’d seen in her own mirror that morning.
His pale blue shirt hung unbuttoned, revealing an enticing slice of tanned chest.
“Hi,” she stuttered. Then she refocused her eyes on the door to the dining room, blinked, and attempted to guide her feet in that direction.
Rosa tutted at the sight of Amado. He simply smiled at her.
He pulled out a chair for Susannah. “Sit down. Eat.”
Susannah snuck a glance at Rosa, whose stolid face was characteristically expressionless.
Did Amado always eat breakfast half dressed?
Or only when he’d slept with his guest the previous night. No need to stand on ceremony when you’d spent the night writhing and moaning in each other’s arms.
She fanned her napkin out over her lap. She had nothing to be ashamed of. They were both adults and she…
Rosa’s withering look made her shrink into her chair.
Amado didn’t even bother to make polite conversation. Relaxed and at ease, he enjoyed the breakfast Rosa had prepared for them.
Susannah wanted to concentrate on her creamy cafécon leche and the delicious fresh baked rolls and pastries with homemade jam, but it was hard with Amado sitting across the table, staring right at her.
He caught her gaze time after time, his dark eyes shining with pleasure, until her heart was ready to flutter right out of her chest.
I’ve got to get out of here, was the thought foremost in her mind. Amado had an unhealthy and dangerous effect on her libido.
She was here to do a job. She was actually being paid for this, and she’d better start to earn her salary—if she wanted to keep it, that is.
She checked that Rosa was out of earshot.
Her heart thudded as she leaned forward. “You will give me the DNA, won’t you?”
Amado’s expression hardened. The smile slipped from his mouth and faded from his eyes. “Yes.”
A chill descended over the breakfast table. He pulled his napkin from his lap and rose to his feet. Padded silently away, leaving her sitting, staring after him.
She kept her breathing steady and forced a smile as the grim Rosa came back into the room with more coffee. “No, thanks.”
Right now, she felt guilty eating their food and enjoying their hospitality. What if Tarrant Hardcastle was right, and she was about to show them all that Amado was the illegitimate product of a casual affair?
Amado buttoned his shirt and slicked his hair back with a comb. He had a bizarre sensation of going into battle.
Susannah Clarke was here to impugn his mother’s name. Of course, the idea that his mother had an affair was preposterous, so he wasn’t afraid of the test results. Still, his cheerful mood had evaporated.
So, she’d slept with him for purely practical purposes. Why did that bother him? He’d slept with her for his own reasons, which admittedly were far less complicated.
Had no idea what he was getting into, either. He’d never met a woman like this. So cool and composed on the outside, so fiery and abandoned in his bed. Fascinating.
Then this morning she confronted him with that prim smile. Reminded him that last night’s enjoyment was simply part of a cold-blooded business deal for her.
Irritation spiked in his gut as he buckled his belt. Still, he was a man of honor, and he’d made a promise.
He heard her moving about in the guest bedroom, and he entered without knocking. “My body is yours to do with as you like.”
She dropped whatever she was packing in her bag and looked up. She looked nervous, so slender and delicate in her long black dress.
He cocked his head. “Did I startle you?”
She blinked and swallowed. Nervous. “I’m just getting my things together.”
“I can see that. So what’s the plan? You extract my bodily fluids and head back to New York with them?” His eyes narrowed as a nasty thought crept over his brain. “Or did you already take what you were looking for?”
Susannah swallowed. “No! I didn’t take anything.” She colored. “There’s a lab in Mendoza that can process the test. It would be best if you come there with me so they can take the sample themselves. That way there’s less risk of contamination, and you’ll be sure that no one, you know, tampered with…”
She trailed off and tucked an imaginary lock behind her ear. A strange gesture since her long dark hair was secured in a tight chignon. Her dress buttoned to her neck and flared from the waist almost to her ankles.
She looked every inch the prudish missionary’s daughter.
Touch me not.
But he knew better.
“So you want me to accompany you into Mendoza?”
“Well, I’d imagine you’d need to bring your own car…”
“So you don’t have to drive me home again.” He tilted his head. “You think of all the details.”
“And actually,” her hands trembled as she struggled with the zipper of her bag, “I ran out of gas on my way here so, I’m afraid I’ll need some before I can go anywhere.”
Amado crossed his arms. “It appears that once again you are at my mercy. Lucky thing I’m a gentleman.” A wicked smile crept over his lips. “At least some of the time.”
Her lips parted and she looked like she wanted to protest. He shouldn’t toy with her this way. She was obviously rather innocent and unschooled when it came to men, and she didn’t deserve to be teased.
Still, she had slept with him. She was a grown-up. She knew what she was doing.
And now they both knew she had a wild side.
That intrigued him more than he could say. What other secrets hid beneath that that cool and demure exterior?
Since Amado didn’t fancy cramming himself into her tiny rental car, they took his Mercedes sedan and arranged for one of his employees to drive her car back to town and meet him later.
During the drive, they talked easily about the area and its history and Amado’s family. He got a strong sense that she didn’t believe he was this Hardcastle man’s son, either.
“Will your boss be upset when you don’t bring back the results he’s expecting?”
“I can’t see how he could be. Honestly, I don’t know anything about how they’re finding people or what they want. I do know he’s dying, though.”
“From what?”
“Prostate cancer. He wouldn’t mind me telling you. He and his wife have been active in trying to encourage people to get tested and seek treatment early. He says he ignored his symptoms for too long because he thought he was invincible.”
Amado frowned. The illness made this foreign stranger seem more real to him. “Is he suffering?”
“I’d imagine so. No one wants to die.” She looked out the window, to where the Andes rose in the distance. “This quest to find his lost children is keeping him going, from what I hear. It’s become a passion for him.”
“But why does he want to find them?”
“I think he wants to confront his past mistakes, or failings, or something. Face up to them before he dies.”
“So he thinks I’m one of his past mistakes?” Amado couldn’t help laughing.
“It does sound rude, put like that. He’s very rich, though. I suspect he wants to leave some of his vast fortune to them.”
She looked at him with those dark, perceptive eyes. Studying him for signs of greed?
Fifteen years ago, even five years ago, money might have been welcome as he tried to bring the estancia up to modern methods of production. The construction of the state-of-the-art winery had involved large and complicated loans.
But now the vineyard was humming and prosperous. The last of the debts had been paid three years ago and they were seeing comfortable profit margins.
“I don’t want his money or anyone else’s. Unless they’re buying my wine, of course.”
For most of the drive, though, they didn’t talk about Tarrant Hardcastle at all. Susannah seemed to be enchanted by the beauty of the region. Once in the city, she marveled at the open ditches bringing water down from the mountains to irrigate the many trees and fountains. Amado explained the technique had been in use by the Huarpe people when the Spanish settlers first arrived, and it was the same system of aquecias that made lush vineyards possible today despite the low annual rainfall.
The lab was on a quiet side street. Amado could tell Susannah was jittery as they pulled into a parking space. She laughed and exclaimed as he led her over one of the neat ditches that lined the city sidewalks. What did she stand to gain or lose from all of this?
For her, it was a purely professional matter. However the results came out, she’d done her duty and could wash her hands of the situation.
Of him.
His muscles tightened with an uncomfortable mixture of irritation and longing. It infuriated him that she could spend the night with him—and such a night—then just walk away.
She spoke quietly to the person behind the counter, prim and proper in her black dress with its row of buttons down the back.
He couldn’t help wanting to unbutton them, one by one, and expose her smooth, olive skin. To lick the delicate bumps of her spine and layer soft kisses over her waist…
He shoved a hand through his hair. No sense getting all worked up. He wasn’t required to donate sperm.
“Come this way.” A uniformed nurse—or someone dressed like a nurse—ushered them through a door behind the reception desk. This whole situation gave him the creeps.
Who knew what they were going to do with his private biological information? Maybe he’d end up accused of some crime or discover he carried the gene for a terminal illness.
“Sit here, sir.”
He lowered himself into the plastic chair and held his head high as the nurse stuck a long cotton swab into this mouth and rubbed it against his cheek. “All done.”
“That’s it?” he asked, adrenaline pumping.
That’s all it took to change a life? To ruin it, even? It didn’t seem right.
Still, he knew what the results would say. No reason to worry.
He looked at Susannah, slim and lovely and nervous as a hungry cat, twisting her fingers and toying with the skirt of her dress.
The nurse left the room with the sample.
Amado didn’t take his eyes off Susannah. “Let’s go eat lunch.”
“I should head for the airport. I need to get back to New York.”
So easy for her to just leave. Clearly, leaving was part of her modus operandi in life. Dust off her hands, and move on.
He wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. “You can’t go until we have the results.”
“Why not?”
“Because I might pay off the lab to get the results I want.” He narrowed his eyes.
“You couldn’t. They have a stellar reputation.”
He cocked his head. “Any man, or woman…has their price.” He glanced meaningfully at the door. Which opened to admit the brisk blond nurse.
“All under way. We should have results in five days.”
“Five days?” Amado rose to his feet, almost knocking over the chair.
“That’s our minimum period of time for accurate analysis.” The nurse shuffled a stack of papers. “We’ll call and let you know when the results are in.”
Amado glared at Susannah. She was heading back to her ordinary life and leaving him to deal with the fallout from the tests. Resentment tangled with unspent desire in his chest.
“What time is your plane?”
“I’ll take the first plane I can board to Santiago, Chile. My flight for New York leaves from there tonight.” Susannah followed the nurse out the door into the waiting area.
“You had your ticket booked the whole time? You must have been very sure of getting your sample.”
The nurse glanced back at him. Most likely she thought Susannah was collecting his DNA to prove paternity of their child. It rankled him that anyone could think of him as the kind of cad who’d dispute such a thing.
“I was hopeful.” Susannah avoided his glance as she thanked the receptionist and paid by credit card.
Of course, she couldn’t have suspected he’d persuade her to sleep with him.
Could she?
A growing sense of panic gripped Susannah as Amado pulled into a parking space at the airport.
He lifted her suitcase from the trunk. “You’ll come back when the new Malbec is ready?” He looked toward the terminal as if he didn’t care one way or the other.
Likely it would be an inconvenience for him if she came back. Awkward and embarrassing. He’d have enjoyed several more encounters with visiting females by then. Possibly he’d have forgotten her.
She didn’t want to look like she cared, either.
“I’d love to, but I’m afraid it depends upon my schedule. I have a series of trips to Europe and South Africa over the upcoming months.”
She did her best to sound businesslike, talking about Tierra de Oro’s projected production and Hardcastle’s possible orders. Of course, she had no idea if any of it would come to fruition. Likely the DNA test and its resultant emotional fall out would determine Tarrant’s order one way or the other.
Did she regret what she’d done?
A little. She had a strange sense of having unleashed a genie. Exciting but scary.
Amado’s dark eyes still shone with desire. No doubt her own did, too.
Desire wasn’t something you could control. You could choose not to act on it, but you couldn’t make it go away.
If you did act on it, you could end up like Tarrant Hardcastle with a host of unplanned children and a lifetime of complications.
Misgivings tightened her muscles. She had a strange feeling she’d never forget her night with Amado. How would she feel now, alone in her bed, tormented by memories of intimacy and passion she could never have imagined?
At the security check-in, he held her face between his hands and kissed her full on the mouth. Arousal kicked through her as his tongue danced with hers right there in line at the ticket counter, surrounded by the swirling, impatient crowds.
Don’t think you’ll get off so easy, his kiss seemed to say.
Her mouth throbbed as he pulled back. Her stomach clenched and she wobbled on her heels.
Triumph glittered in Amado’s eyes. Then he frowned. “You’ll call me with the results?”
A cool shiver crept down her spine. “I suspect someone from Tarrant’s office will call you. I don’t usually have anything to do with his private business. I’m just here as an envoy.”
“An envoy of distressing news. You’re brave.”
“Or desperate to keep my job.” She attempted levity. “You can’t say no to Tarrant Hardcastle. But I doubt they’ll even tell me the results.”
Amado’s frown deepened. “I’ll tell you.”
That reassurance of future contact made her heart swell. The thought of just…leaving and never seeing him again was too grim to contemplate.
She was sure he’d call her to laugh and joke if the result was what he hoped for.
But if it wasn’t?
Susannah pretended to fumble with her ticket as Amado turned and strode away. She couldn’t help turning to catch a last glimpse of him as he disappeared through the door.
So tall and proud and strong, his passion evident in everything he did. His connection to the estate and his family so deep as to be unquestionable.
She chewed a manicured fingernail and hoped like hell that Tarrant was wrong.
Susannah’s heart thundered as she climbed the wide, polished stairs to the El Cubano cigar bar on Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue. One week had passed since her return from Argentina, and Tarrant Hardcastle had summoned her to his exclusive watering hole to thank her for retrieving—his word—Amado’s DNA.
She had no idea what the results were. But would he ask her here if the trip had been a waste of time?
She gave her coat to the stunning coat-check girl and followed the maître d’ into the hushed space. The lack of cigar smoke surprised her, since men sat all around, sunk deep into leather chairs, with expensive bundles of rolled leaves burning in their hands.
On the far side of the room they reached the imposing backs of a pair of chairs arranged in front of a window. The leather thrones enjoyed a spectacular view over Fifth Avenue.
“Mr. Hardcastle, your guest has arrived.”
Susannah sucked in a smoke-free breath as her boss rose and greeted her. Even rows of white teeth shone in his tanned face.
He was disturbingly youthful-looking for sixty-seven, in a way that could not be entirely natural.
Everything about the man was frightening.
She tried not to wince or fall over as he kissed her on both cheeks. An extravagant gesture of greeting for a boss she barely saw.
“Thank you, my dear.” His blue-green eyes glittered with emotion.
Uh-oh.
“Thank you for finding my son.”
Susannah’s mouth fell open and her stomach plummeted.
“He is your son?” she rasped.
“Ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain. It doesn’t get more definite than that.” He gestured at the plush leather armchair opposite his. “Sit.”
Susannah practically fell into it.
Tarrant summoned a waiter with a wave of his hand.
“Tell me about him, my dear. My son, what is he like?” A beaming smile lit his tanned face as he settled back into his chair.
Amado isn’t the son of Ignacio Alvarez. His mother had an affair.
The reality of the situation chilled her blood. How had Amado reacted? How had his parents reacted? He hadn’t called her with the news, as he’d promised.
“He’s nice,” she stammered. “Very smart.”
Tarrant waved his hand impatiently. “Does he look like me?”
Susannah frowned. “You both have strong features. I can see a resemblance around the nose and cheekbones. He’s darker, though, with dark eyes and hair.”
Tarrant smiled. “Like my son Dominic. I never could resist the allure of a dark young beauty, back then.”
Susannah tried not to recoil. Tarrant’s steady gaze made her uncomfortably conscious of her own dark coloring. She so did not want to think about Tarrant’s sexual exploits of thirty-odd years ago.
It was downright hard to imagine Clara Alvarez being a beauty, dark or otherwise. Didn’t she have blue eyes like Tarrant?
“His mother was such a stunner. Sharp as a cracked whip and with a fire that…” He blew out a breath and shook his head.
“Clara is well and healthy, too.”
“Clara?” Tarrant sipped a clear drink. Martini probably. “Who’s that?”
“Amado’s mother.”
Tarrant put his drink down. “Amado’s mother is dead.”
A chill crept up her spine. “But I met her.”
“Hardly. I was called to identify the body.”
Susannah swallowed hard. Her blood seemed to stop flowing. “But he called her ‘mother.’”
“I don’t know who the heck Clara is, but his real mother was Marisa Alvarez and she died giving birth to her son.” He tapped his cigar. “Tragic. The whole situation was a nightmare.”
Susannah blinked, unable to make sense of it.
Amado very definitely believed himself to be the son of Clara and Ignacio Alvarez. Now he wasn’t related to either of them?
Tarrant studied the end of his cigar. “My son, Amado, will unfortunately not return my calls.”
“How did he learn the news?”
“My daughter Fiona managed to get him on the phone long enough to share the happy news, but he hung up on her. She’s not terribly subtle, but I had hoped that the blood ties would…”
He let out a long sigh. “I’m truly impressed that you managed to coax him into providing a sample.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re a quiet one, and I can tell there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
Susannah shrank into her chair, feeling guilty.
“So I need you to go back to Argentina and bring my son home.”
Icy shock rushed over her. Back to Tierra de Oro? “You want me to bring him to New York?”
“I need to meet him. To show him the business. To welcome him to his place in it.”
A sharp flash of adrenaline stung her muscles at the prospect of seeing Amado again. Then reality set in. Tarrant wanted his son to join the business like his other newfound son Dominic.
Her stomach clenched and she recoiled at the prospect of trying to convince Amado to leave the home he loved so much. No matter how much money was involved, that would be wrong.
“He’ll never leave the estancia.” The words flew from her tongue. “It’s everything to him, his life’s work. He loves it like…” Like a father loves his son.
She held her tongue. Regretted the passion with which she’d spoken.
Tarrant frowned and studied her. “Bring him here just long enough to meet his old man before I die.”
Susannah blinked. No doubt he was confident that once he got Amado in his reaches he could talk him into anything.
Tarrant was such a force of nature it was easy to forget he was dying of cancer. The disease was so advanced that his doctors had advised him to avoid debilitating treatments and to enjoy his last months—or weeks—as best he could. Already he’d outlived their predictions.
Pity trickled through her, despite her misgivings. “I don’t know if he’ll come. It was hard to persuade him to part with the sample.”
“I know you can do it. My assistant has booked you a flight to Santiago this evening. You’ll be back in Mendoza by morning.”
“But I’m supposed to fly to Johannesburg tomorrow.” She had eleven vineyard tours lined up.
His face closed over. “Johannesburg can wait. I can’t. You must bring him here this week. At once.”
Susannah opened her mouth to protest—then closed it again.
This was her boss. Everyone knew the company was his personal fiefdom and if he wanted her to cancel a week’s worth of carefully planned tours to go on a personal errand, she’d better do it.
“Reassure him that the visit will be worth his while.” Tarrant leaned forward, resting a gray-suited elbow on his chair. “Despite my reputation, I’m not such an egotist that I believe everyone on earth knows who I am. Tell him who I am. What I can give him.”
The emotion on his face surprised her. She was seeing another side to Tarrant Hardcastle. Under the brash tycoon exterior was a human being, fragile and insecure like everyone else. A man who wanted to meet the son he fathered before it was too late. Who maybe even craved affection and love that he’d forsaken for so long.
Her heart squeezed. She had to help him.
He grabbed her hand. “I’m a dying man. Don’t be afraid to tug at his heartstrings.” He squeezed, his bony fingertips pressing into her palm. “All men have them, despite what we’d prefer you women to believe.”

Chapter Five
Susannah, exhausted almost to the point of collapse, pulled into the driveway of Tierra de Oro the following afternoon.
She’d rented a larger car with a bigger fuel tank as a measure of self-preservation. But the way she felt right now, if Amado’s huge white dogs wanted to eat her alive, they were quite welcome.
She hadn’t called. Tarrant had been sure the element of surprise was in her favor and she suspected he was right.
She’d jumped a foot into the air every time her phone rang in the last twenty-four hours. But Amado hadn’t called her either, despite his promise.
She parked in front of the house. Inhaled deeply. Then she summoned her last ounce of strength to tug on the door handle, and stepped out into the blinding sun.
The first thing she heard was the high-pitched keening of a woman weeping.
Uh-oh.
She approached the door, wincing at the loud crunch of her shoes on the gravel drive.
Heart pounding, she knocked. Held herself steady as footsteps approached. The tall wood-paneled door flung open.
Amado.
For a second his face was blank with shock. Then his fierce black gaze hit her like a blast from a shotgun. “You.”
She swallowed hard. “Me.”
He was taller and more imposing than she remembered. More handsome, too. His hair hung in his eyes and made him look slightly wild. Uncivilized.
“Look what you’ve done.” His fierce whisper grated on her ears. He gestured inside the house. Racking sobs filled the serene, antique-filled space. “My mother is distraught.”
A strange expression came over his face.
She’s not your mother.
She kept silent as the thought passed between them, thickening the tension in the air.
The two big white dogs appeared, sentries at Amado’s sides. Their dark eyes peered up at her as if to ask “Why?”
Susannah took a step backward, and almost fell off the steps. Amado leaped forward and pulled her roughly back up.
Then he tugged his hand away as if the bare skin of her arm had stung him like a jellyfish.
“Thank you,” she stammered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you or your family…”
His eyes narrowed. “But you had a job to do.” She could hear the controlled rage in his deep voice.
She swallowed.
Another loud wail rang through the air.
Amado forced a grim smile. Gestured into the pain-filled interior. “Why don’t you come in?”
He disappeared into the cool gloom of the house. One of the dogs shot her an accusatory look over his powerful shoulders before following obediently at his master’s heels.
Every muscle in her body itched with the urge to turn and flee. But her parents had taught her to cope with tough situations, not run from them.
Susannah inhaled a shaky breath and stepped inside.
Clara Alvarez sat on the sofa, head in her hands. Sobs racked her solid body.
“Mamá.” Amado spoke softly.
“I’m not your mother.” Her meaty hands muffled the tear-thickened words. “I shouldn’t have played a part in this charade. I lied. God will curse me. I deserve to suffer.” Her fresh howl of pain ripped a hole in Susannah’s gut.
What on earth had happened here thirty-one years ago?
Amado shook his head.
“She’s so upset. My father has ridden off into the mountains. He won’t speak to anyone.”
He strode across the room, and Susannah followed, hoping to get out of earshot of the distraught Clara. Tension hummed in the air, and in her own anxious body. The estancia’s tranquil, nurturing atmosphere had been shattered. Possibly forever.
“Can we go out on the terrace?” she whispered.
Amado frowned at her, but opened the door and ushered her out.
The sun glared at them over jagged mountain peaks that suddenly looked like the teeth of a giant saw.
Susannah steadied herself. The situation really couldn’t get any worse. Now seemed as good a time as any to blurt out her request. “Your real father wants you to come to New York.”
“My real father.” The words tore from Amado’s lips like a foul curse. “How can you say that? A strange man who cared nothing for me. Who abandoned me to fate. Now he seeks to claim me for reasons of his own and doesn’t care whose life he ruins in the process.”
“He’s very sorry for how he treated his lost children.” Susannah twisted her hands together.
“Lost? I wasn’t lost. I was at home here in Tierra de Oro.” Pain shone in his eyes. “The estate has passed from father to son, for six generations. Now the chain is broken because my father has no son.”
He broke off and stared out at the mountains.
The acres of lush vineyards sprawled in a rich, striped carpet below them. The grapes no doubt growing and ripening, regardless of the human drama inside the house.
Susannah could hardly bring herself to look at Amado’s strained profile. “I don’t understand. Who was Marisa Alvarez?”
He didn’t turn to face her. “Marisa Alvarez was my sister.”
Susannah’s hand flew to her mouth. “A sister? I didn’t know you had one.”
“Why would you? She’s been dead for thirty years.” Now he turned. His dark gaze burned her. “And she wasn’t my sister at all.”
Susannah blinked, sure anything she could say would be worse than nothing. She couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.
She wanted to offer him something, maybe even a reassuring hand. But his rigid posture and proud expression prevented her.
She could still remember the powerful sensation of being held in his strong arms. Lying in his bed, suffused with pleasure and spent tension, more relaxed than she’d ever been in her life.
That felt like a lifetime ago.
“Marisa, my sister, lived a quiet life here at Tierra de Oro. Her mother—Ignacio’s first wife—died in childbirth, so she was raised by her widowed father.”
He glanced at her. “I knew all this. What I didn’t know is that, when Marisa was seventeen, she grew tired of being sheltered and protected by her father. After spending a summer studying art in Mendoza, and secretly earning money from selling her paintings, she ran away to New York.”
Susannah blew out a breath. It was starting to make sense.
“My father,” he raised an eyebrow, “or should I say Ignacio, knows little about this part of her life. But she stayed there for over a year and during that time she met Tarrant Hardcastle.”
His words dripped with venom at the name.
“And they had an affair,” Susannah whispered.
“Yes. And she got pregnant. At which point he told her to get rid of it or he was done with her.”
Susannah winced.
Amado blew out a hard breath and shook his head. “Of course she couldn’t do that. She was raised Catholic.” Pain tightened the lines of his face. “And she didn’t dare tell her father. So she stayed in New York. She went through the pregnancy alone, and had the baby by herself.”
He turned and paced along the length of the terrace. His broad shoulders pulled the cloth of his shirt taut. “She died giving birth, just as her own mother had done eighteen years earlier.”
“Oh, no.” Susannah felt tears spring to her eyes.
“She died alone, afraid to seek help in a strange country where she had no true friends.” The horror of the situation was written all over his face. “And because her lover had abandoned her.”
He laid a fist on the terrace wall. Tension hardened every muscle in his body. “Someone, a neighbor, heard her…she must have been in terrible pain. They called an ambulance that was able to save the baby, but it was already too late for Marisa.”
His chest rose and fell beneath his shirt. Fresh tears glittered in his eyes. “They found her address in Argentina somewhere in her possessions and called Ignacio to the hospital to claim the baby.” He stared at her. “They’d already called Tarrant Hardcastle and he disavowed all responsibility.”
“That’s terrible.” Susannah could barely manage to get out the words. They were so inadequate to the horror of the situation. It was hard to imagine even Tarrant Hardcastle being cold and cruel enough to abandon a tiny, helpless, motherless baby.
It dawned on her like a clap of thunder that Amado was that baby.
Hot tears rolled over her cheeks.
Amado frowned. “Why are you crying? Surely you knew all this.”
“I didn’t know anything.” The words came out on a whine. “I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe that Tarrant…” A sob cracked her voice.
“My real father.” He blew out a snort of disgust. “I curse the ground he walks on.”
“I don’t blame you.” Susannah bit her lip. How on earth could she convince Amado to come back to New York with her now? She didn’t even want to.
He inhaled deeply. “So Ignacio brought me back to Tierra de Oro. He didn’t want me to suffer the shame of illegitimacy so he quickly married his longtime housekeeper, Clara. They told people Marisa had died in a car accident.”
“I see.” That explained how Clara came into the picture. “I’d think people would put two and two together, what with Marisa suddenly disappearing and a new baby arriving.”
“My father said they pretended to have married earlier, but kept it secret because of the scandal of him marrying a servant.” He snorted. “Substituting a petty piece of gossip for a real one.”
He shook his head, looking out at the mountains. “Who knows, maybe everyone around here has known for years. But I didn’t.” He tapped his fist to his chest. “Thirty years on this earth and it never crossed my mind that I was anyone but the son of Clara and Ignacio Alvarez.”
“Your father, I mean, Ignacio, told you all this?” If it was awkward for her to figure out what to call him, she could barely imagine how Amado must feel.
“Yes. And I got angry. Very angry.” He fixed his gaze on the horizon. “How could he lie to me for so long?” The question rang with his pain and confusion.
Susannah wished she could think of something to say but her brain still buzzed with amazement at the strange situation.
He blew out a long breath. “And now he’s ridden off into the hills and Clara is inconsolable.”
Susannah was sweating inside her thin dress. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
Amado turned to her with a fierce expression. “Why should you be sorry? You’re just doing your job.” Anger curled in his voice, but once he looked at her, his gaze softened.
Her own distress must have been written all over her face. “You had no choice. With a jerk like that for a boss, you’d be fired if you didn’t jump when he snapped his fingers.”
Susannah exhaled. “You’re right. I did it to keep my job. Now I’m wishing I hadn’t.”
He turned his profile to her and stared out at the mountains. Sun glittered off the icy peaks. “It’s better the truth is out.”
“Better? How is it better? Your family is in chaos.” She glanced behind her, to where muffled sobs could still be heard through the door into the living room.
“Secrets are like poison in the system. They can hide for some time, but sooner or later, they’ll weaken and destroy it.” He turned to her, eyes narrowed. “Better to flush them out and face the consequences.”
Despite his brave words, she could see the strain in every line of his body from the hard jut of his chin to the aggressive stance of his feet. He stood like someone trying to keep his balance in a world that had been upended.
“It’s a different era now. There’s no shame in being illegitimate.”
“Doesn’t bother me. I’m still the same person.” His voice remained steady but a muscle tightened in his neck.
Was he? How could you be the same person after learning that the people you were closest to had lied to you throughout your whole life?
“You should come to New York. I know you’ve spoken to your sister Fiona on the phone…” She cringed, wondering exactly how Fiona had botched the phone call. Tarrant’s spoiled daughter was so used to having everything her way, she didn’t function all that well in the real world. Susannah couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. How could you grow up to be a normal person with Tarrant Hardcastle as your role model? “You have a brother too. Dominic was abandoned, like you, but they found him and he’s part of the family now.”
Amado stared at her, as if the thought was sinking in. “A brother.” He looked past her, out to the mountains.
Susannah swallowed. “There might be many of you. So far, Dominic’s the only other one they’ve tracked down. He was raised by his mother. He’s a year or so older than you.”
His eyes locked onto hers. “I’d like to meet him.”
“You’d like him. I work closely with him choosing wine for the restaurants.”
“He works for Hardcastle Enterprises?” He looked appalled.
“Yes. He owns his own chain of food stores, too, but Tarrant convinced him to take over leadership of the company. It took some persuading to hear Dominic tell it. His attitude was similar to yours, but I guess Tarrant won him over in the end.”
Amado’s face hardened. “I have no interest in meeting the man who left my mother to die.” Then, he inhaled, thoughtful. “But I do want to meet my brother and sister.”
“They’d like to meet you, too.” She hadn’t seen Dominic and Fiona since the results. How could she look them in the eye when she’d slept with their brother?
What on earth had she been thinking?
She swallowed hard.
The sun glinted off Amado’s proud profile. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal his tanned and muscled forearms. He was gorgeous.
Still, that was no excuse. Her behavior was beyond unprofessional. She’d have to do her best to stay far away from him while he was in New York. Then he’d go back to Argentina and no one would be the wiser.
“Why are you backing away from me?” He glanced down at her feet.
She froze, unaware that her body had been putting a safe distance between them. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” He tilted his head. Humor glinted in the coffee-brown depths of his eyes. “Little did I know what I was getting into when I invited you in for wine and alfajores. I thought my parents were so rude to try to get rid of you. Now, I see, they wanted to protect me. To protect us all.”
He took a step toward her. Desire throbbed in her veins as her body responded to the raw aggression of his gesture.
“Don’t think you can walk away now.”
Susannah stood rigid on the veranda of his house, her slim body shivering with tension.
In spite of everything, Amado wanted to take her in his arms.
Her prim carriage and her clipped, businesslike speech were only one side of Susannah Clarke. He’d enjoyed the delicious privilege of seeing the other side.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since she left. About her serious and thoughtful expressions. About the arch of her body under his. The way she had clung to him, her limbs taut with arousal. How she’d writhed beneath him as their passion built to exquisite agony, followed by an explosive exhale of sweet relief.
It was a night he’d never forget, with a woman he couldn’t get out of his mind.
Especially now that she’d turned his life upside down.
Her elegant chin tilted as she defied his challenge. He took another step forward. Uninvited, he slid his hand under her jacket and ran his palm over her breast.
She gasped. Her nipple tightened under his palm. And she didn’t step back.
Desire spiked through him as he cupped her breast. Peered into her mysterious dark eyes. Her mouth closed, then opened again. A silent protest? Her lips were naturally dark, the color of smashed berries, and he longed to crush his mouth over them and drink deep.
One more step brought his chest within inches of hers. His hand still on her breast, testing, teasing, he inhaled the scent of her in the hot afternoon air.
He could already taste her desire on his tongue, smell it on the wind. Also her fear.
He slid his hands around her back, pulling her close. She stood like a statue, the air between them thick with tension.
He laid his palms over the dip of her waist, enjoyed the curve of her backside. He could hear her breathing, feel her arousal swelling like a bud thickening and preparing to open.
Against her will.
If he lifted her dress he’d bet her panties were already damp with longing. His erection strained against his zipper.
Maybe he’d take her here, on the hard stone of the patio, under the unforgiving sun. With the mountains watching in stern silence.
Her lips parted and a shaky breath escaped. Her eyes slid closed for a second as her insides quivered under his fingers. He felt her muscles contract under her neat dress.
Waiting for him.
Hoping.
Their tongues clashed as he kissed her, hot and hard. The taste of her was intoxicating, a drug he’d craved.
Her body crushed against his, lithe with passion as she kissed him back, clutching his face to hers with eager hands.
A low, guttural moan escaped her as he lifted her dress and tested her slick heat with his fingers.
He slid a finger into her silky depths and she rocked against him. He held her steady with one hand behind her back as he brought her swiftly to climax with his finger and thumb.
His power over her was absolute at this moment. Eyes closed, she gave herself over to the fierce magic of the moment.
The tremor raged through her and he caught her as she almost lost her footing. Panting, she rested against him for a second.
Then she realized he’d stopped and was just standing there.
Staring at her.
Prim and proper Susannah Clarke’s eyes were black with passion. A dark flush heightened her proud cheekbones and her long dark hair hung about her shoulders, wild from his caresses.
He let her dress fall back to her calves.
Didn’t say a word.
Her glaze of passion lessened and confusion flickered in her eyes.
Good.
She smoothed the front of her dress, suddenly self-conscious. He could see her nipples, still peaked under the soft fabric.
“You don’t find it easy to say no to me, do you?”
His cruel question made her blink.
Why should he be the one lying awake, tormented by memories of that night? Let her suffer. So cool and calm and collected, as she delivered her life-shattering news.
She checked the buttons on the front of her dress.
“Don’t worry, you still look virginal.”
His mocking tone made her blink again.
“Though, of course, we both know better.” He tilted his head. Contemplated the possibility of touching her firm breasts again. “What would your big boss say, if he knew?”
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t?”
“How do you know? I’m a virtual stranger. We spent one day together.” He licked his lips. “And one night.”
She backed away. This time he let her.
“You know me as Amado Alvarez, of Tierra de Oro.” He snorted. “Or at least that’s who I used to be until you showed up.” He hesitated. Watching her squirm. “He would have kept your sexy secrets. Amado Alvarez was a man of honor.”
He inhaled, then let out a long, slow exhale. “But apparently, I’m not the man I thought I was. I’m the son of this…Tarrant Hardcastle.” He spat the name like a bad taste. “Who knows what I’m truly capable of?”
The patio doors flung open and Ignacio crashed out onto the terrace. “What the hell is she doing back here?” he raged, eyes bulging.
Amado froze. He’d never seen his father like this. Ignacio could express strong feelings in an argument, or when his favorite football team was losing, but Amado’d never seen him yell at a woman.
Since Susannah showed up, bringing the ugly truth about his parentage, everything had changed. He didn’t know who he or anyone else was anymore.
Susannah shrank away, tugging her jacket over her dress as if covering her nakedness.
Ignacio moved toward her. “Get out, now! I’ve never laid a hand on a woman, but by God, I’ll throw you out myself if you don’t—”
“Calm yourself.” Amado stepped forward and grabbed his father’s arm. “Susannah is here on business.” He shot her a dark look.
She made a vain attempt to tuck her gorgeous wild hair behind her shoulders.
“She has no business here but to disrupt our lives.”
Susannah stepped back. Amado couldn’t resist a powerful urge to defend her. “She brought the truth, didn’t she?”
His father frowned.
“The truth that you planned to keep from me. Don’t I have a right to know the circumstances of my own birth? To know who brought me into this world?”
The force in his own voice surprised him. But suddenly he did feel strongly about it.
“It was for the best.” His father rubbed his temples. “I thought it was for the best.”
Anger heated Amado’s blood as long-buried resentments rose to the surface. Nagging doubts he’d silenced for years now crept out of the darkness. He was beginning to suspect he had every reason to despise Ignacio for his lies. “Is that why you drove away Valentina?”
He still remembered the heated shouting matches he’d had with his father when he was nineteen and desperately in love. Ignacio had point-blank forbidden the marriage, saying she was unsuitable as an Alvarez bride.
He’d wondered at the time if Ignacio was secretly behind her sudden change of heart. Now Amado saw the ugly truth unfold in front of his eyes. “You wouldn’t accept her as my wife, not because she was illegitimate, but because you didn’t want anyone to find out that I am, too?”
Ignacio hesitated. Rubbed a hand over his face. “If you’d married as a minor, they would have seen your birth certificate.”
The confession chilled his blood. He’d suspected the truth all along, but never been sure. Her change of heart had been too sudden, too final.
Now, he knew. The man who called himself his own father had driven away the woman he loved. “You chose your lie over my life.”
Amado shoved a hand through his hair. The injustice burned him. Years of lies that had warped his existence. His comfortable life here at Tierra de Oro came at a harsh cost, especially to the two woman who should have been closest to him.
“All this time, Marisa has been a silent shadow. She was the sister I never knew and who I knew nothing about. It’s not right. She was a real person.”
He realized his fist was clenched, but he couldn’t seem to unlock it. “She was my mother and you shouldn’t have swept her story out the door with yesterday’s dust.” His voice trembled with rage.
“She died so young.” His father shook his head. Amado resisted the urge to step forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “She never had a chance to become a woman.”
“She was a woman. You may not have wanted to accept it, but your little girl grew up. She bore a child.”
“I don’t…I don’t…” his father spluttered.
“You don’t want to think about that.” Amado’s words shattered the stunned quiet. “You never did. You just wanted her to be your little girl forever, which is probably why she ran away to New York in the first place. You can’t keep everything the same as it was in the nineteenth century. Like the estate, we must change and grow in order to keep living.”
“If only she’d never met that Tarrant Hardcastle.” The words dripped from his father’s tongue like acid.
“But she did. And now I must meet him, too.” The resolve formed in Amado’s mind as he said the words. This family was done with ignoring unpleasant realities. He wanted to face them head on.
For years, he’d tried to forget the pain of losing his fiancée. He’d always suspected that Ignacio had had a hand in Valentina’s leaving, but to hear him admit it—
Adrenaline flashed through his muscles and he struggled to keep himself under control.
He was done being played. Perhaps meeting his birth father would bring some reality back into this charade.
“I’ll meet Tarrant Hardcastle and make up my own mind about him.”
“He’s not your father. He didn’t raise you.”
“He bears half the responsibility for bringing me into this world, whether he wanted to or not.” He drew in a breath as anger heated his blood. “Now he thinks he can fold me to his bosom like a long-lost sheep?” He blew out a hard breath. “We’ll see. For now, I want to look into the face of the man who left my mother to die.”
He glanced at Susannah, who’d watched their exchange, her kiss-reddened lips parted in stunned silence.
He cursed the strong feelings Susannah herself had awakened in him. He couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind. Her solemn gaze haunted him, and her hungry passion.
And he had to admit that, along with the chaos she’d unleashed, came the fresh air of truth.
He drew in a deep breath and stared at her. “I’ll come to New York with you.”

Chapter Six
Susannah and Amado stood side by side in the elevator, ascending to Tarrant’s private office on an upper floor of his Fifth Avenue retail palace. Amado’s tailored suit gave him a formal, distant air. Usually unruly and windblown, his dark hair was slicked back to reveal his strong features.
He didn’t speak. He seemed lost in thought—and who wouldn’t be?
Tarrant, his wife Samantha, daughter Fiona and newfound son Dominic were waiting for them.
Susannah was only there because Amado wouldn’t let her go.
He’d insisted that she spend the night with him in his room at The Pierre. There he drew her into the tight circle the two of them made, away from prying eyes. He worked his dark, sensual magic on her, turning her inside and out in a realm of intense pleasure.
She didn’t even try to resist.
He needed her. Longing and tension snapped in the air. She could taste his anger in the heat of his skin. Smell his hunger in his musky male scent.
His lovemaking was aggressive, demanding, unbearably erotic.
Afterward, they’d lain tangled in the expensive sheets, exhausted and more wound-up than ever.
Ding.
The elevator stopped. Amado hooked his arm around her elbow as if to foil any attempted escape.

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