Surrender to Her Spanish Husband Read Free

didn’t mind admitting that Lily’s pet cat had become a very welcome companion during her sojourn in the wilds of Cornwall.
    ‘How many times have I told you not to do that? Never mind, are you scared of the storm? Is that what’s bothering you? Poor little kitty…don’t worry. I’ll take you into the kitchen and find you a nice tasty bite to eat to help take your mind off this terrible racket!’
    Upstairs in his room, in the act of retrieving his laptop from its leather holdall and wondering if this Cornish wilderness had even heard of the internet, Rodrigo paused. The voice that drifted up to him from downstairs riveted him. It always had. Now he stood perfectly still, listening. The lady had a voice as alluringly velvet as a warm midsummer’s night, and it wrapped itself round his senses like a soft Andalucian breeze, full of the scents of jasmine, orange and honeysuckle and other exotic flowers that could render one hypnotised by their scent alone.
    Hearing Jenny’s voice again after being denied the sound for over two years…The effect it had always had on him ricocheted hotly through Rodrigo’s brain. Not to mention other sensitive parts of his body. As he listened to her croon now, to what he quickly deduced must be Lily’s pet cat, the napped velvet tones and cultured British accent were enough to raise goosebumps up and down his forearms and unquestioningly to arouse him. He blew out a breath. Steady, Rodrigo… he ruefully warned himself. She was still pretty mad at him, and had every right to be.
    They’d been married for just over a year when he’d declared that they must part. Even now he could hardly believe he’d said the words—never mind seen them through. He should definitely rein in the almost instantaneous lust that had all but exploded through him at the sight of her tonight. Those luminous cornflower-blue eyes in a stunning oval face framed by a gilded curtain of shoulder-length blonde hair had always hit him where it hurt. He had never set out to wound her so badly. But—that aside—he had travelled to this spectacularly haunting part of the country for the purposes of business, not pleasure. And of all the startling scenarios he might have envisaged on this trip, having his beautiful ex-wife open the door to him on arrival at her friend’s guesthouse was not one of them—though he had to admit his spur-of-the-moment plan had been influenced by the hope of hearing news of her.
    His heavy sigh was laden with equal parts of frustration and tension. He kicked off his Italian-made shoes and tore off his socks, allowing his long tanned feet to sink gratefully into the luxurious carpet, before stripping off his clothes and heading for the shower…
    ‘Do you have access to the internet here?’
    ‘What? Oh, yes…but the signal’s a bit dodgy. I mean, it comes and goes…especially in a storm like this.’
    ‘I feared as much.’
    ‘We’ll probably get connected again tomorrow, when things have calmed down a bit. You may as well resign yourself to a night of not working. Think you can cope?’
    ‘Very funny. Is this my coffee?’
    ‘Yes. Sit down and help yourself. I presume you still take sugar? At any rate I’ve added two.’
    ‘It’s still the one pleasure I cannot give up,’ Rodrigo joked. Seeing the glimpse of hurt that flitted across Jenny’s face, he could have bitten out his tongue. The truth was that she had been the hardest pleasure of all to give up. Going by the ache in his ribs and low down in his belly, she still was.
    As he arranged himself at the table, a generous mug of coffee steaming invitingly before him along-side a neat round plate piled high with sandwiches fashioned out of thick-cut wholemeal bread, Rodrigo tried to smother the swift stab of longing that filled him as he stared at Jenny.
    Pulling his gaze reluctantly away, he made a leisurely inventory of the homely, country-style kitchen that surrounded him. With its mismatched stand-alone oak and