At the Spaniard's Pleasure by Jacqueline Baird

Liza?’ Nick demanded seriously. ‘You’re young—you have plenty of time to start another career.’ He was satisfied he had discovered all he needed to know. Henry Brown was returning to Lanzarote. As for Liza, he was almost sure she was innocent of any crime, and, even if she was guilty, once away from financial temptation and into something more academic it was possible she could change, and he never questioned his reasoning, simply pursued the thought.
    â€˜You could get out of finance and back into what you really want to do,’ he suggested. ‘It is never too late, Liza, believe me. I might even be able to help you.’
    â€˜I suppose you’re right.’ Liza smiled. ‘But don’t take it so seriously, Nick; I’ll survive whatever.’ And she sat back with a sigh of contentment. ‘That meal was magnificent, Greta is a great cook.’
    â€˜You can tell her that in a minute,’ Nick said curtly. He didn’t know why but her casual attitude infuriated him, hadshe no idea of the danger she was in? Did she even care? Pushing back his chair, he stood up. ‘Greta will serve coffee in the sitting room.’
    But what was really bugging him was his superior intellect had apparently deserted him. He had already missed half of the family celebration in Spain and if he didn’t get back to his mother’s for the final party he and his mother were hosting tomorrow evening, his mother would never forgive him. But what to do with Liza? He dared not leave her alone on the island without telling Carl or he would never forgive him either.
    He had been racking his brains to think of some way of persuading Liza to come to Spain with him, and incidentally keep her out of harm’s way, but was damned if he knew how to do it. Short of asking her ‘Will you come to Spain with me for the rest of the weekend?’ But he knew that would go down like a lead balloon, given that she had made a point of avoiding visiting the Menendez home for years.
    No, he had to think of something else, and, confident as he was in his masculine powers of seduction, he doubted all the seductive technique in the world would convince Liza to fly off to Spain with him only a day after their meeting up again.
    Rising to her feet, Liza followed him through into the elegant living room, wondering what had caused the sudden coolness in the atmosphere. She sat down on one of the soft hide sofas, the occasional table already held the accompaniments for coffee, and a moment later Greta appeared with a pot to add to the already prepared tray.
    Liza smiled at the other woman and thanked her for a lovely meal, and then stiffened when Nick chose to sit down beside her on the sofa instead of taking the one opposite. During the meal there had been space between them and the atmosphere had been good most of the time, but now she sensed a tension in the air, and she felt distinctly crowded.
    â€˜Will you be mother?’ Nick asked smoothly.
    The words hung in the air as Liza had a vivid mental image of being mother to Nick’s child, a small dark-haired angel. Her face turned scarlet at the provocative thought and hastily she bent forward and filled two small cups with the aromatic coffee. ‘Sugar, milk?’ she asked, without looking at him.
    â€˜As it comes.’
    Lifting one cup, she turned slightly, her hand stilling. Nick was lounging back against the cushions, one long arm flung along the back, his jacket hanging open and his shirt pulled tight across his muscular chest, she could see the slight shading of body hair and swallowed hard.
    He gave her a long, sardonic look. ‘Are you going to give me the coffee, or simply hold it?’
    Blushing at her stupidity—she was eyeing the man like the dumb teenager she had once been—she thrust the cup at him, a little of the liquid spilling, and his long fingers curved around hers.
    â€˜Steady, Liza. I want to drink it, not