Page 6 of Seducing the Spaniard

“T-trouble?”

“Yes, T-t-trouble,” he responded with totally unnecessary cruelty. “Do you realise that you were just kissing me as though you wanted me to make love to you? To lay you down right here in the rose garden and fuck you senseless?”

“Don’t,” she groaned, spinning away from him, her face torn by the cruelty in his words.

“Don’t what? Tell you how reckless that was? What if I hadn’t stopped? Would you really want me – twenty nine, a man you hardly know, a man who has no interest in a relationship or in you – to be your first lover?”

Her stomach dipped like she was on a roller coaster, both at his imagery and cruelty.

“Would you want me to sleep with you here, knowing that I’d get up and walk away tomorrow, and never think of you again? Dios Mio, Carrie, what the hell were you thinking?”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t,” she whispered, the agony of pain and rejection unlike anything she’d ever experienced. “I just … you were looking at me … and I thought …”

“You were singing,” he snapped moodily. “I was interested to hear your voice. It was certainly not an invitation to share my bed. Believe me, Carrie, that’s the last thing I want.”

“No,” she nodded jerkily, and in that moment, she hated everything about her stupid self. Her body, her hair, her trusting nature. How could he want her? How could she have misread the situation so spectacularly? “I’m ugly, and fat, and inexperienced, and young. I totally get it. I don’t know what came over me.” Tears of hot mortification were streaming down her cheeks, and her words were stammering from her in a high-pitched wail.

She spun away from him and began to run towards the house. Even as she ran, she thought he might follow, but he didn’t. He left her alone, nursing her awful embarrassment.

Carrie couldn’t sleep that night. Tortured fragments of physical memories haunted her; her body seemed to be lurching through a field of desire – the memory of his frame pressed to hers was indelibly scored in her brain.

Very early the next morning, when those same Robins were back in the garden, chirruping in their way to herald the start of a new day, Carrie moved forlornly to the window and stared out at the gardens.

Her eyes landed on the very spot it had happened, amongst her favourite roses. She made a groan of embarrassment and then shifted her glance, to a movement on the driveway.

Gael, dressed in black running gear, looking strong and virile. But he was not alone. Alexandra was with him, her long blonde hair loose down her back, her white cotton night gown almost transparent in the morning light. Her nakedness underneath was obvious.

Carrie watched just long enough to have her worst suspicions confirmed – to see her mother’s body cling to Gael’s, her lips seeking his … and for Gael not to push her away.

Her stomach rolled, and she walked away from the window.

In that moment, the innocent girl Carrie was died. She would never be the same again.

CHAPTER THREE

Six years later.

Carrie ran her fingers through her platinum blonde hair, admiring the sexy bell shape in the bathroom mirror. It was quite a change from the week before, when it had fallen in long, silken waves down her back. Now, it was short and daring, a crop that exposed the swan like curve of her neck and flattered her bone structure. She always took great care with her make up, and it was flawless. All the time. From the minute she got out of bed, she began applying the basics, and she ensured it lasted all day. She lifted her lipstick now to top up her cherry red mouth. Her eyes, enormous and blue, were framed by curling lashes and fashionable brows.

As for the dress … she grinned as she took in the dipped front – so low it showed a generous hint of cleavage, and low enough at the back to reveal her entire spine, right down to the swell just above her buttocks. The hem fell to the floor, but it was firm across her thighs, and it showed off her sleek shape in the most flattering way.

“You look gorgeous,” Juanita laughed, putting an arm around Carrie’s svelte waist. “Belle of the ball, as always. But come on, the boys will wonder what’s taking so long.”

Carrie handed the cherry red lipstick to her best friend, and watched as Juanita glided it across her own full pout. No one had been more thrilled by Carrie’s transformation than Juanita. Carrie’s lack of interest in men, partying and what Juanita deemed to be ‘fun’ had been the only point of difference between them. Now, it was non-existent. They enjoyed the same fun. The same games.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Juanita tossed the lipstick back to her friend, then linked arms with her. “Tell me again what we’re celebrating tonight?”

Carrie’s laugh tinkled, like bells in the breeze. “We’re not celebrating, darling. We’re raising funds for a new wing of the paediatric hospital.”

“Right,” Juanita nodded. “I knew it was something good. Can you see Tom and Max?”

Maximillian Sanderson was Carrie’s latest interest. Though ‘interest’ was over-stating it a bit. He was her pursuer. A man who had made it obvious he wanted her, and had been persistent enough to be rewarded, finally, with a date. She hadn’t made up her mind yet if she’d sleep with him. He was handsome, to be sure, but he did very little to get her heart racing.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, finally landing on their familiar heads. Both blonde, that was where the similarities ended. Maximilian was average height, with broad shoulders and a stocky frame. Tom was lean and long, with glasses he wore on the tip of his nose. “Staking out the bar,” Carrie said with a smile. “Excellent. I hope they’ve got some vodka lined up.”

“You and your vodka,” Juanita said with a laugh. “Why don’t you have a champagne with me tonight?”

Carrie pulled a face. “No, thanks.”

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