Free The Abducted Heart (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) by Jennifer Blake

indicated that it might be so, but Anne had somehow doubted it.
    “Yes, of course. Why not?”
    Anne shook her head helplessly. “Señor Castillo, don’t you think this is carrying things too far?”
    “Ramón. You must learn to call me Ramón if you are to be convincing as my fiancée,” he reproved her as he got to his feet and moved around the end of the desk to lean against it, standing over her. “And, no, I don’t think it is. Half-measures never serve.”
    “But, señor—”
    “Ramón,” he insisted.
    “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to think of you in that way,” she said, her head coming up sharply in an instant reaction to the trace of command in his tone.
    “Perhaps this will help you,” he said, and bending over her, captured her upturned lips with his own.
    An odd warmth stole along her veins, sapping her strength. The sudden play of something like flame along her mouth made her draw in her breath sharply. Smooth, sensuous, his lips held her poised on the brink of an unknown pleasure; then abruptly, he raised his head. His eyes, dark and unreadable, burned into hers for an instant before his lashes came down to shield his expression.
    A lower timbre than usual in his voice, he said, “Between a man and woman who are to be married there should be an impression of intimacy. I don’t believe it will be hard to counterfeit, given a little practice.”
    Anne swallowed, her gaze dropping to the sheen of his silk shirt collar. “I expect not,” she murmured, and wandered at the sense of anticipation she felt drawing as tightly as a wire within herself. Whether it was composed of dread or excitement, she could not say.
     

Four
     
    The day passed slowly. Anne spent the remainder of the morning trying to get in touch with Judy and talking to Iva Metcalf on the phone. There was no difficulty in getting a two-week absence from the catering firm. Iva demanded to know what Anne thought she was up to, but there was no anger in her voice, only an intrigued curiosity.
    “It’s the most romantic thing I ever heard of,” she said, her voice coming clear and sane over the wire. “You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather when we heard from Señor Castillo that you were with him on his plane. But you will be careful, won’t you, Anne? I don’t know what you think you’re doing — and I’m not asking — you’re a big girl now, and I don’t have any right to play mother hen. Still, you head for home quick if things get too rough down there. You’ve got a week’s salary coming and I’m sending it along, just in case, You never know when a little extra might come in handy.”
    Anne thanked her, and after promising to see to it that Judy got her message, or herself go over and pack the things Anne needed, Iva hung up. Talking with her disturbed Anne, however. Iva represented the normal, everyday routine. Before speaking to her, the position she was undertaking had seemed unusual, but not unreasonable. Afterward, it appeared fantastic, if not downright foolhardy.
    During the afternoon she walked for a time in the garden, enjoying the warmth and the scent of the flowers. Beneath the shade of a strange tree that reminded her of a cypress she discovered a chaise of wrought iron fitted with cushions. She sat down and leaned back, lulled by the soft caress of a breeze on her face. For a long time she lay in drowsy content, not really asleep, yet not awake. It was there that Carmelita found her.
    An excited light shone in the maid’s round black eyes. In her arms she carried a dress box while she held an envelope between the fingers of one hand. “There you are, señorita,” she exclaimed. “I have been looking for you everywhere. This box, she come for you by messenger, and there is a note also, from Don Ramón, I think.”
    There was indeed. The heavy cream-colored note-paper crackled under Anne’s fingers. The slashing, upright letters in black ink were instantly recognizable as the kind