Page 30 of Claiming His Baby At The Altar

The seats Ramos had got for them were in a private box. It was clearly one of the theatre’s most exclusive boxes as they had their own bar and a private usher to cater to all their whims and needs throughout the performance. The usher hung Ramos’s jacket up for him and poured them a drink each before bowing his head and slipping out of the box. If they needed him, they had only to press a button and he would come running.

‘Is this yours?’ Flora asked, delighted with such an excellent, unrestricted view of the stage, but with a stomach full of knots at the intimate space they would share for the next few hours.

They would be sharing a much more intimate space when they returned home, a thought that only tightened the knots.

‘No. A friend’s.’ He sat next to her and stretched his long legs out. ‘But, as I know how much you enjoy all theatre productions, I have set the ball rolling for a box of our own.’

Her eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Are you serious?’

He gave a wolfish grin. ‘Always. Did I not tell you I could be generous?’

Overwhelmed that a man she knew cared nothing for the theatre was preparing himself for a future of plentiful theatre visits, she gazed at the handsome face, at the straight patrician nose and the closely shaved jaw and felt something in her heart sigh...

An alarm went off in her brain and she quickly pulled herself together to drily say, ‘Generosity is your middle name, Ramos.’

And it was, she realised. Ramos had an intrinsically generous nature, not just with his money but with his time too.

‘It is,’ he agreed smugly, ‘and I have told you many times to call me Alejandro.’

She adopted her most innocent face. ‘Sorry. I occasionally suffer from amnesia.’

The roar of laughter that burst from his mouth had the audience below craning their necks.

The auditorium lights dimmed. The brief flare of shared amusement dimmed with it.

Settling back in her seat, Flora crossed her legs away from him and folded her arms across her chest so there was no danger of any part of their bodies touching. Mercifully, the seats in the box were much larger than ordinary seats.

The lights on the stage went up. The orchestra played its first beat.

Flora took a deep breath, fixed her stare on the stage and waited for the magic to transport her.

But the magic never came.

Here, in the privacy of their darkened box, she was far too aware of Ramos for anything else to properly penetrate. The distance she’d put between them was too slight to be effective.

As the first act went on, the awareness prickling over her skin deepened. Slowly but surely, he leaned closer to her. If not for the armrest separating them, their arms and thighs would be touching and it was taking everything she had to hold her position, keep her eyes glued to the stage and not move so much as a fraction of her body. Pretend she couldn’t feel the burn of his stare on her.

And yet, although the dancing itself passed in a blur, the sweeping music seeped into her, and as the end of the first act approached she could feel the madness of a betrayed, heartbroken Giselle in the pounding beats of her heart...

They were the same pounding beats that had bruised her chest when she’d realised Ramos had severed himself from her, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she succumbed to the desire that burned so deep inside her for him, her heart would once again open like a flower and leave her vulnerable to being hurt again.

When the lights came up for the interval she held her position a moment longer before facing him.

He hadn’t moved. His melting eyes gleamed and a knowing smile played on his lips. ‘Enjoying it?’ he asked lazily.

She pulled a wide smile on her face. ‘It’s great. What about you?’

He raised the shoulder furthest from her. ‘I will have to watch it again.’

‘Why?’

He dipped his face a little closer. ‘Because I have been watching you.’

The sticky heat of arousal rushed through her again, and she reflexively tightened the cross of her legs.

Thank God the usher chose that moment to enter their box.

Flora snatched at the opportunity and fled to the sanctuary of the ladies’ bathroom.

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