A Convenient Marriage Read online

  ‘Go ahead. One cannot properly conduct business on an empty stomach.’ His lips parted in a brief smile. His teeth were very white against his tan, and movie-star perfect. For the first time she noticed he had a dimple in his chin…a very sexy little dimple. Somehow her morsel of food had trouble getting past her throat.

  ‘So…any ideas where you’d like to go?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘On holiday? I presume you’re thinking of taking a break somewhere?’

  Javier shrugged his broad shoulders and wondered what the perfectly English Miss—he squinted at the name on the small gold badge on her lapel—Sabrina Kendricks would think if she knew he had travelled the globe more times than she’d find it easy to believe. As a man who’d built up a successful one-stop travel business on the internet, he spent a large majority of his life travelling. No, he didn’t need a holiday. What he needed right now was a little more complicated than that…

  ‘Are you usually this quiet?’ Ignoring her question, Javier posed another one. As he did so he glanced curiously around him, noting the colourful posters of varying exotic locations on the walls behind her, the two tall potted plants that resembled miniature palm trees by the door, the once rich maroon carpet beneath his feet that was more than just a little faded. The whole business had an air of regal deterioration about it. Rubbing his hand round the back of his neck, Javier sighed. Her computer system looked badly out of date, too. How on earth were they making a living?

  Sabrina took a hasty sip of coffee, nearly scalding her mouth in the process. ‘It’s raining,’ she explained as if he should understand the unspoken meaning without her elucidating further.

  ‘That puts people off?’ His lips quirked wryly. The woman was blushing and it intrigued him as to why.

  ‘It’s a slow time of the year.’ Shrugging, she glanced quickly away from his too knowing black eyes.

  ‘I should have thought many people would be booking vacations leading up to Christmas. The prospect of getting away after such a hectic time would appeal to most, no?’

  He said it as if he knew what he was talking about and Sabrina felt herself grow prickly and defensive. She could hardly tell him that the bigger travel chains that dominated most high streets nowadays naturally took most of the business. But then they couldn’t offer the very personal, specialist, highly skilled service that Sabrina and her colleagues had perfected over fifteen years, could they? The chains didn’t have time to devote to planning sometimes elaborate itineraries for their wealthier, more established clients—not when they wanted to shift as many cheap package holidays as possible. If Sabrina wanted to compete, it looked as if she would have to go that way too.

  ‘It’s not always as quiet as this.’

  ‘I have offended you.’ Javier heard the slight quiver in her voice with genuine remorse, saw the wave of pink that shaded her cheeks.

  ‘No.’ Putting down her half-eaten sandwich, Sabrina patted her lips with her paper napkin. For some reason a picture of the loathsome Richard Weedy floated into her mind and she heard him say again that she wasn’t a good risk so he wouldn’t be recommending the loan. She’d walked out of the bank feeling as if she’d gone to him with a begging bowl. Ugh!

  ‘I’m just not having a very good day. Nothing to do with anyone else but my own sorry inability to rise above my disappointment.’

  Inexplicably, Javier’s gaze went to her fingers. Her hands were pretty and small but minus a ring of any description. ‘Someone hurt your feelings…a man, perhaps?’

  It took only a couple of seconds for his comment to click. ‘Not in any romantic sense, no.’ She was smiling now, her blue eyes shining with humour, and Javier realised that, with her high cheekbones and generous mouth, she was really quite exquisite. She’d be even more exquisite if she let that hair of hers down… Now, where had that thought come from?

  ‘Anyway. Back to business. If you don’t want a holiday, Mr—er—?’

  ‘D’Alessandro—Javier D’Alessandro.’

  He said it so beautifully that Sabrina was instantly transported to another time and place; somewhere very different from chilly, dreary London, somewhere with a landscape of burnt sienna and hot sun, a place where conquistadores ruled the land, conjuring up pictures of glamour and adventure. A place where her current concerns and worries disappeared like magic beneath the hypnotic gaze of a dark-skinned, dark-eyed lover…

  ‘If you don’t want a holiday, Mr D’Alessandro, then what can I do for you?’ Unconsciously her tongue wetted the seam of her lips. Javier’s eyes seemed to grow darker still as he registered the fact.

  ‘I’d like to take you to dinner.’ How long had that little thought been going round in his head? Javier wiped his palms down the thighs of his expensive Savile Row suit. He concentrated for a few seconds on her name badge. ‘Can I call you in a few days, Sabrina? Right now I have some important business to take care of.’

  ‘Dinner?’ For a crazy moment she wondered if she’d heard him right. Good-looking strangers didn’t usually just walk in off the street and ask her for a date. Her shoulders stiffened slightly with suspicion.

  ‘Yes, dinner. What do you think?’

  ‘Not a good idea.’ Picking up her pen, she scanned the loose papers on her desk for something that needed her attention—anything that would distract her from the quiet scrutiny of those disturbing dark eyes. ‘I don’t date people I don’t know, Mr D’Alessandro.’

  ‘Ahh.’ His smile was fleeting yet uncomfortably knowing. ‘You’re not a risk-taker, then, Sabrina?’

  She thought about the business; about the fact that her bank manager thought she wasn’t a good risk. Now this handsome stranger in front of her seemed to be implying she was lacking in courage too. It was suddenly all too much. ‘All right, Mr D’Alessandro, I will accept your invitation to dinner…whenever that may be. Thank you.’ She scribbled something indecipherable on a piece of paper and hoped he didn’t notice that her hand was trembling slightly. ‘Get yourself a date!’ Ellie had called out to her only a short while ago. Well, it looked as if she’d got herself one…whether she’d planned for it or not.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE DIDN’T call and she shouldn’t have been either surprised or disappointed but perversely Sabrina was both. Ever since she’d set eyes on the handsome and intriguing Javier D’Alessandro, she’d been oddly unsettled and discontented. Which wasn’t like her at all. Sighing heavily, she gave her make-up one final check in the bathroom mirror, flicked off the light and returned to the living-room to collect her suit jacket and raincoat. The force of the rain outside was rattling the window-panes and a helpless wave of despondency washed over her. Yesterday, she, Robbie and Jill had been practically fighting over customers, they were so few. The day had dragged endlessly on, and when six o’clock came Sabrina had actually been glad to put on her coat and head for home. In fifteen years of running East-West Travel she had rarely been so eager to leave the office. Maybe Ellie was right? Maybe she should call it a day as far as the business was concerned. Concentrate on other things instead. Like finding a potential ‘Mr Right’ and perhaps having a child of her own before it really was too late. She really loved her sister’s kids and she probably wouldn’t make the worst job of raising her own. Would she?

  ‘Sabrina Kendricks, where is your head?’ Amazed at the winding and not entirely welcome path her thoughts had taken her down, she donned her jacket and coat, retrieved her prized umbrella that she’d bought from an exclusive Knightsbridge store in the sales, then slammed the flat door behind her with enough force to rattle every window in the whole house.

  ‘Call for you, Sabrina! And I’ve left your coffee on the side; don’t let it go cold, will you?’

  Waving the receiver at her, Jill waited patiently as Sabrina made her way into the cramped little room that served as general ‘all-purpose’ filing cabinet and was also a repository for foreign exchange, petty cash and stationery. They also kept a small fridge for milk and juice,
and the most essential item of all—the kettle.

  ‘Thanks, Jill.’ Not many people called her on what she thought of as her private line. Just a handful of people had the number, namely her parents and Ellie and an old schoolfriend who she kept in touch with from time to time.

  Spying her coffee, she lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip before speaking. ‘Sabrina Kendricks.’

  ‘Miss Kendricks, this is Javier D’Alessandro.’

  She couldn’t prevent the breathy little gasp that came out of her mouth. She’d forgotten that she’d given him this number as well as her home one. Carefully, she placed the mug back on the cluttered pine shelf that was crammed with box files, fearful she would spill it because her hand was shaking.

  ‘Mr D’Alessandro…what can I do for you?’

  ‘A short break in Tenerife perhaps? Los Christianos maybe. In one of your charming little hotels that guarantee rest and relaxation and salve to the spirit…’

  Oh, my. He could read the Oxford English Dictionary out loud and it would sound sexy.

  ‘Really? So you changed your mind about a holiday, then?’ Perversely, Sabrina didn’t want to talk to him about holidays. She chewed at her fingernail, grimacing at the flaked pearl nail-polish that she’d been too tired to replace last night; another uncharacteristic decision.

  ‘I make a jest with you, Miss Kendricks…Sabrina. I don’t want a holiday. I asked you out to dinner, remember?’

  ‘Three weeks ago,’ she blurted unthinkingly, then cursed herself for perhaps revealing too much. Now he would think she’d been counting the days.

  ‘I am sorry it has been so long. There were things—family concerns—that I needed to take care of.’

  ‘I understand.’ Was he married? Going through a divorce? Did he have kids? A thousand questions backed up in her brain—after all, she knew nothing about this man except that he was too gorgeous for words with black eyes that made her think of things she hadn’t considered in a very long time. And young. Don’t forget that, Sabrina. He probably wasn’t even thirty, and here she was, fast approaching thirty-eight. The whole thing was ridiculous. Best keep her mind on work and not let herself be so foolishly disappointed.

  ‘Would this evening be too short notice?’ Javier was suggesting. ‘If you give me your address I could pick you up at, say, eight o’clock if that is convenient?’

  Sabrina swallowed hard. ‘Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a good idea for us to meet, Mr D’Alessandro; I—’

  ‘Javier. Please call me Javier.’

  ‘All right…Javier, I don’t want you to feel obliged to ask me to dinner just because it seemed like a good idea three weeks ago. I understand how things can change.’

  ‘Then you are a very tolerant woman, Sabrina, but I seriously would like to take you out to dinner and I do not understand this “feeling obliged” you talk about. My only motivation is to see you again. I sense that we may have more in common than you think.’

  She heard the faint thread of humour in his voice and let out a long, slow breath. ‘All right, then. You’ve talked me into it.’ As if I needed to be persuaded. Sabrina allowed herself a grin and told him she would prefer to meet him outside the designated restaurant. Once she got the details, he bid her a slightly formal goodbye and told her he was looking forward to their meeting. As Sabrina replaced the receiver on its rest, she went mentally through the contents of her wardrobe and—apart from that disastrous burgundy suit—tried to remember the last time she had bought herself something really nice to wear. The sort of ‘something’ that would be suitable to wear to a very elegant restaurant in Knightsbridge with a man who would make Hollywood stars look plain.

  ‘I wish you weren’t going out tonight, Uncle Javier. I wish you were staying in with me and Rosie.’ Angelina glanced up from the television screen as her uncle came into the room, her dark eyes noting how handsome he looked in his suit and tie, his black hair gleaming beneath the soft lamps that lit the room. The slender blonde in her faded jeans and pink sweatshirt, sitting on the luxuriously thick rug beside the child, also marked his entrance with appreciative china-blue eyes.

  ‘Your uncle deserves a night out, Angelina,’ she said softly. ‘He’s stayed in with us every night since your father went into hospital. If you’re good you can stay up half an hour longer and watch the end of the film with me.’

  ‘Thanks, Rosie.’ Javier flashed her one of his most dazzling smiles and Rosie couldn’t help wishing that she was the lady he was taking out tonight. She’d gleaned that his dinner date was a woman named Sabrina because she’d heard him explaining to Angelina. Lucky Sabrina.

  ‘I won’t be late. I’ll look in on the little one here before I go to bed. If you hear anything from the hospital…anything at all, you’ve got my cellphone number, haven’t you? I’ll keep it with me.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Now, you be a good girl for Rosie, mi angel. Tomorrow after school I will take you to the movies to see that film you have been longing to see. We will eat popcorn and ice cream and forget about everything else but having a good time. Sí?’

  ‘Yes, Uncle.’ Angelina angled her cheek affectionately for his kiss and at the last minute flung her strong little arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. Javier’s heart went ‘bump’, as it was apt to do every time his beloved niece demonstrated her love for him.

  ‘Sleep well.’

  ‘Tell Sabrina I said hello,’ Angelina quipped as he reached the door. Javier smiled.

  ‘I will be sure to tell her,’ he promised and left the two females to their television programme, feeling just a little more at ease than he had for the past few nights.

  ‘So you started up the business fifteen years ago?’ Javier concentrated his full attention on his dinner companion. How could he not when she was looking animated and beautiful in her scoop-necked scarlet blouse and slim-fitting black trousers, her gorgeous golden-brown hair rippling unhindered to her waist, every bit as lovely as he’d imagined it would be?

  ‘I know, fifteen years…makes me sound as old as Methuselah.’

  ‘But you don’t look as old as Methuselah,’ Javier charmingly assured her. Was she sensitive about her age—this woman with her smile as bright as sunlight and eyes the same stunning blue as a summer sky? She could be no more than thirty-four or thirty-five, surely, and even if she was, what did he care? A woman with a past was always far more interesting, he found, than some inexperienced twenty-year-old who didn’t know her own mind.

  ‘I feel it sometimes.’ A cloud seemed to slide across the dazzling blue irises. Pouring some more wine into her glass, Javier frowned. ‘Something is troubling you. Want to talk about it?’

  Sabrina hesitated. Should she burden this charming, good-looking man with her problems at work? The trouble was, he was so easy to talk to. Already she felt as if she’d known him much longer than the two occasions they’d met. After a generous sip of wine to fortify her blood, she decided to go with her instincts. ‘I promise not to let my troubles dominate the evening.’ She smiled and Javier leant forward, intrigued, his own profound concerns about his family momentarily suspended.

  ‘My problem is that the business needs to expand, come fully into the twenty-first century, and I can’t raise the capital to do it. We’re even losing some of our oldest customers because they’ve been lured by the tempting promises of all kinds of incentives by the chains, incentives we can’t possibly match. Our equipment is outdated and old-fashioned and the day we met I’d just been turned down by the bank for a loan. At this point I’ve got two very loyal staff members who’ve been with me practically since I started and I feel so bad that, unless I can raise some money to modernise soon, they’ll both be out of a job.’

  ‘I see.’ His eyes were impossibly dark, Sabrina reflected, her heartbeat racing suddenly. It was the wine, she told herself. She’d better take it easy. More than a couple of glasses and she might—just might—make a complete fool of herself…

  ‘If I owne
d a house I’d put that up as collateral but, as I only rent my flat, that isn’t a possibility.’ Shrugging, she tried to dismiss her worries and focus on the man in front of her instead. She’d come out to enjoy herself, not bring everything down by talking about work. Ellie was probably right. She was too fixated on her job. She’d almost forgotten how to have fun.

  ‘This wine is delicious. Thank you so much for asking me out for the evening. I’m really enjoying myself.’

  ‘You are very passionate about your business…and loyal to your staff. I admire that, Sabrina.’

  ‘And what about you, Javier? What are your passions in life?’

  ‘Don’t you know you can’t ask someone from my country such a question without the same answers?’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Argentina. I’m from the capital city—Buenos Aires—and my passions are football, politics and—until very recently—living life in the fast lane.’ One corner of his beautiful mouth hitched slightly upwards as if the confession pained him. Even with the wine heating her blood, Sabrina couldn’t fail to pick up on the sudden sadness in his voice. Immediately she felt guilty. They’d spent most of the evening so far talking about her. She wasn’t usually such selfish company—at least she prayed not.

  ‘So.’ She fixed him with such a direct gaze that Javier suddenly experienced a very disorienting feeling of light-headedness. ‘Something must have happened to change that? Life in the fast lane, I mean.’

  Brought back to earth with a bump, Javier felt his stomach muscles knot painfully as he remembered Michael in hospital, Angelina crying herself to sleep and his own life thrown into the worst kind of personal turmoil yet again in the space of eight short years.

  ‘You are right, something happened,’ he said heavily, loosening his tie. ‘But it is not something I care to talk about right now.’

  ‘I understand.’ Her voice was softly concerned. ‘I just want you to know that if you felt the need to share what was troubling you, I would be a good listener.’