Their Convenient Marriage Read online

  “Are you all right?” Antonio queried, gazing at her in some concern. “You’re looking a bit pale. I hope nothing you ate at lunch has upset you.”

  Gina shook her head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just…well, I’ve had two rather upsetting conversations this afternoon. And to tell you the truth, I don’t quite understand what’s going on.”

  “Which is—what?” he asked. But when she didn’t immediately reply, he added, “If you have a problem, Gina, then I think you’d better tell me about it.”

  “It seems our marriage is the problem,” she declared, looking him straight in the eye.

  MARY LYONS was born in Toronto, Canada, moving to live permanently in England when she was six, although she still proudly maintains her Canadian citizenship. Having married and raised four children, her life nowadays is relatively peaceful—unlike her earlier years when she worked as a radio announcer, reviewed books and, for a time, lived in a turbulent area of the Middle East. She still enjoys a bit of excitement, combining romance with action, humor and suspense in her books whenever possible.

  Books by Mary Lyons

  HARLEQUIN PRESENTS®

  2120—THE ITALIAN SEDUCTION

  2083—REFORM OF THE PLAYBOY

  Mary Lyons

  THEIR CONVENIENT MARRIAGE

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  PROLOGUE

  IT WAS always the same dream…

  The plaza in Seville is ringing with the loud shouts and whistles of the bystanders. She is almost deafened by the noisy, blaring trumpets and drums of the brass bands as the cavalcade of many horses and their riders, all in traditional Spanish costume, make their way slowly through the crowded throng of spectators.

  She is struggling to control a high-spirited, nervous horse, perspiration running down her frightened cheeks as she clings tightly to the thin leather reins, helplessly unable to prevent her mount from either rearing up or lashing out with its hind hooves. The scowling faces and muttered oaths of the other riders are causing her face to burn with shame and humiliation. She knows it will only be minutes…seconds…before disaster strikes.

  And then…he is there! His tall and handsome figure, clothed in a black matador’s costume, is racing through the milling crowd towards her. Firmly grasping hold of her horse’s reins, he turns to smile up at her as she slips out of the saddle and down into his arms, weeping with relief while clinging tightly to the strength of his hard, firm body.

  Suddenly, the scene changes and they are dancing…spinning…whirling to the throbbing music of guitars. She is aware of nothing but the hypnotic beat of clapping hands and the rapid ‘click-clack’ of their heels on the floor as he swirls her about his tall, dominant figure.

  Totally mesmerised by the glinting warmth in his eyes, she finds herself being dragged from the dance floor, her hand firmly clasped in his as they run laughing through the empty, deserted streets, before he hails a horse-drawn carriage. And then, within the confined darkness of the vehicle, with shafts of moonlight illuminating his high cheekbones and dark gleaming eyes, he slowly takes her into his arms and she ardently raises her lips to meet his.

  She is shivering and trembling with delight at his deepening kiss, quivering at the sensual touch of his hands sweeping over the soft curves of her body. Her emotions are spiralling completely out of control as she whispers, ‘I love you, Antonio. I love you with all my heart!’

  But then…with shocking suddenness…she finds herself on the other side of the carriage.

  ‘At your age? What can you know of love?’ he grinds out savagely, his voice sounding harsh and strained as the vehicle comes to a halt. Swearing under his breath, he pushes her out of the carriage in front of him.

  ‘Go home to England! Go home. Grow up. And let us both forget that this incident ever happened!’ he adds grimly, before stalking ahead of her into the house and quickly disappearing from sight.

  Totally shattered, and weeping as if her heart will break in two, she stands gazing after him, her eyes blind with tears as she realises that she will never, ever see him again.

  It was always the same dream…the same nightmare…

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘I REALLY can’t understand why you are being so stubborn, Antonio. Surely you can see that it’s the perfect solution to all your problems?’

  ‘Absolutamente, no!’

  Gazing across the room at the elderly, frail man sitting in the wheelchair, Antonio Ramirez did his best to control his feelings of annoyance and irritation.

  Not only was he very fond of his uncle Emilio, but he realised that he really must have patience with the old man who, since his last heart attack, had been forced to hand over the reins of the family business.

  ‘Yes, I would agree that I face a difficult situation,’ Antonio admitted, roughly brushing a hand through his thick, black curly hair. ‘Particularly the urgent need to completely update our wine-making process. And, yes,’ he added with a shrug of his broad shoulders, ‘I would also agree that finding the millions to do so will not be easy. Although I believe I have solved that particular problem. But, nevertheless, your suggestion as to how I can best arrange my affairs is something which I find totally unacceptable!’

  His uncle gave a heavy sigh. He really didn’t understand young men nowadays, he told himself fretfully. None of them seemed in any hurry to get married, and Antonio—a handsome and extremely wealthy man, who’d left a whole host of glamorous girlfriends behind him in Madrid—was clearly no exception. But his nephew was now thirty-four, and it was clearly time he found himself a nice, sensible, financially well-endowed young girl and settled down.

  ‘The engagement between myself and your late aunt was arranged by my parents. Although it may have been a marriage of convenience—bringing together two old families in the wine trade—it proved to be a very happy one. Even though, most unfortunately, we didn’t have any children,’ he pointed out querulously.

  ‘Yes, I know, Uncle. And I do understand that you have my best interests at heart.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’ve got enough sense not to get involved with Carlotta,’ the older man muttered. ‘That cousin of yours might be a good-looking girl but she’s likely to cause you nothing but trouble!’ he added, before realising from the blank, shuttered expression on his nephew’s face that he’d gone too far.

  ‘Thank you for your kind advice,’ Antonio drawled icily. ‘However, I must tell you that, strange as it may seem, I’m perfectly capable of running my private life without your assistance.’

  ‘Yes, well…’ His uncle shrugged. ‘I may have been a bit out of order…’

  Antonio gave a snort of grim laughter. ‘You most certainly were! Especially since the idea of finding myself a rich wife is definitely not on my list of priorities just at the moment.’

  ‘But, all the same, I do wish that…’

  ‘Quite frankly, I’m far more interested in obtaining new contracts,’ Antonio said, firmly changing the subject. ‘Particularly in supplying our own brand of sherry to supermarkets in France, Germany and Italy. I also have high hopes of attracting some new business in North America,’ he added, before quickly glancing down at his watch. ‘Which is why I really must get back to work. I’m leaving tomorrow for a quick business trip around Europe,’ he said, rising to his feet and walking towards the door.

  ‘Unfortunately I can only afford to be away from the office for a week. But if I can manage to clinch those deals it will at l
east give us a breathing space. And also enable me to do some serious financial planning for the future.’

  ‘You’ve mentioned America. What about the supermarkets in Britain?’

  With his hand on the doorknob, Antonio paused, before turning slowly around, his dark eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

  ‘I hadn’t intended visiting London on this trip. But it now looks as if I may have to. I’m becoming increasingly worried about a large shipment of some of our very best wines which was dispatched to Brandon’s of Pall Mall, in England, well over a month ago.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘I’m still not sure,’ the younger man admitted with a slight shrug. ‘For some reason, it appears to have gone missing. Needless to say I’ve been on the phone for the last two days, trying to track it down. But with absolutely no success so far.’

  ‘Surely a consignment that large shouldn’t be too hard to find?’

  ‘Which is precisely what I have been telling those English wine merchants!’ Antonio gave a short bark of sardonic laughter. ‘I know Sir Robert Brandon is an old friend of yours, Uncle, but I have to say that it looks as though his methods of doing business are still firmly rooted in the nineteenth century!’

  ‘You may regard Sir Robert and myself as ancient dinosaurs,’ his uncle retorted, ‘but if you do go to England it might be worth talking over your problems with him. He is, after all, one of the cleverest businessmen in the wine trade.’

  ‘Hmm…I’ll think about it,’ Antonio said as he turned to open the door, not overly impressed with the idea of picking the brains of his uncle’s old friend.

  ‘In the meantime—take care of yourself, Uncle. I should be back in my office by next Monday,’ he added with a smile, before leaving the room.

  Striding swiftly down the corridor towards the front door of his uncle’s house, Antonio could only feel sorry for the elderly and infirm man, now confined to a wheelchair.

  However, the brutal facts of life were that if only his uncle had resigned his position as head of the company immediately after becoming aware of his bad heart condition the family business would not now be in such a mess. Unfortunately the old man had refused to listen to his doctor’s advice, continuing to run the business his own way and only finally relinquishing control when forced to do so, after his last heart attack.

  Which had meant that, instead of being able to make long-term plans for taking over the family business, Antonio had been forced to immediately abandon his highly lucrative career as an international tax lawyer in Madrid. And on his return home to Jerez he’d been faced with some fairly major problems.

  The most important of which was the urgent need to bring modern organisation and technique into every corner of the business, Antonio told himself grimly as he left the house, running down the steps and across to where his sports car was parked, beneath the shade of some olive trees.

  The extensive Ramirez family vineyards might produce some of the finest and most sought-after wines in the Spanish sherry trade, but his uncle had clearly never even heard of computers or the Internet. And there was virtually nothing in the way of records since his uncle had believed in handling as little paperwork as possible.

  In fact, Antonio mused, drumming his fingers on the driving wheel of his car for a moment before switching on the engine, the meeting with his bankers this afternoon should, with any luck, help to solve most of his problems. Because the sooner he could start completely overhauling the family business the better!

  Turning around his wheelchair, and gazing out through the open window as his nephew’s black Porsche disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust, Emilio sat buried in thought for some time.

  He was well aware of just how difficult it must have been for Antonio to give up his highly successful career. Not that the younger man had ever complained, of course. But it must have been a wrench to be forced to suddenly abandon his friends, colleagues and that glamorous apartment in Madrid simply because he was the only one in the family capable of running the business.

  He clearly had no way of lightening Antonio’s heavy burden, of course. But maybe…maybe there was something he could do about the financial problems facing his nephew…

  While he might be stuck in this damned wheelchair there was still life in the old dog yet, Emilio told himself with a chuckle, before spinning around to pick up the phone on his desk.

  ‘Sí…’ he said as his call was answered at the other end of the line. ‘Señor Don Roberto…por favor…’

  At approximately the same time, although many hundreds of miles away, Georgina Brandon was muttering furiously under her breath as she slammed down the phone.

  She’d never got on with the manager of the company’s headquarters at Pall Mall in London. And it was just like the slimy two-faced man to try and blame Gina and her staff for his own shortcomings.

  Besides, exactly why he seemed to think such a very large, valuable consignment of top-class sherry would have been sent to the Ipswich branch office, here in Suffolk, she had absolutely no idea. Surely it was far more likely to be found at their other warehouse, in Bristol? Or most probably tucked away in the vast dusty cellars in Pall Mall.

  But the loss of such a valuable shipment seemed the very least of her worries at the moment. Because—while she might enjoy hearing that the head of the world-famous Bodega Ramirez had well and truly chewed the ear off that creep in London—she’d been utterly devastated to learn exactly who was now the new Chairman and Managing Director of the Ramirez company.

  ‘Antonio? Antonio Ramirez?’ she’d gasped down the phone, just a few moments ago.

  ‘Yeah. Surely you must have heard that he’d taken over the business from his old uncle Emilio?’

  ‘No…no, I didn’t know…’ she’d muttered, her trembling hands almost dropping the phone as she’d tried to get her head around this startling and highly alarming piece of information.

  ‘Well, well! Fancy clever Miss Georgina Brandon not being up with the latest news in the wine trade! I expect that’s what comes of being stuck out in the boondocks of Suffolk,’ the London manager had added with a slight laugh.

  Feeling far too shattered to even try and cut the awful man down to size, she’d remained silent as he’d admitted that her grandfather was not at all happy about the situation.

  ‘With Antonio Ramirez well and truly on the war-path, Sir Robert says that we’ve got to find that shipment, as fast as possible. Apparently the guy is a lawyer. And you know what they’re like—never happier than when suing the socks off rich companies like your grandpa’s! So, you’d better go through all the bills of lading with a fine-tooth comb. Or it could be you for the high jump,’ he’d added with relish, before putting down the phone.

  Still feeling stunned by the news of Antonio’s direct involvement in his family’s huge wine-making business, Gina took a deep breath.

  It was no good sitting here at her desk in a complete daze, feeling as if she’d been suddenly hit very hard by a blow to the solar plexus, she told herself, brushing a shaky hand through her long, pale blond hair. She was really going to have to pull herself together—and try to get a firm grip on the situation.

  After all…it was eight years since she’d seen hide or hair of the man with whom she’d fallen so desperately in love. But she’d been only eighteen at the time, for heaven’s sake. And young girls were always falling in and out of love, with the most unsuitable men. It happened all the time. Besides, she’d had lots of boyfriends since then. And if none of them had ever caused the slightest dent in her heart? Well, she had plenty of time in hand before she needed to start worrying about finding Mr Right!

  As branch manager of a large wine merchant’s business she was used to dealing with the various fine sherries bearing the Bodega Ramirez label. So why get in such a panic just because this was the first time she’d heard any mention of Antonio’s name?

  What was more…if she’d ever stopped to think about it she ought to have
known that sooner or later he was bound to succeed his uncle in the business. Just as she was due, eventually, to take over her grandfather’s large, prestigious business.

  Founded in 1791 by her ancestor, Captain James Brandon—who, after retiring from the navy and marrying a rich Spanish widow, had begun importing and blending high-quality sherry and wine from her family’s vineyards near Cadiz—Brandon’s of Pall Mall was now one of the oldest and most successful wine merchants in the country. Moreover, the ever-increasing value of the property owned by the family, particularly the large buildings situated in such an expensive area of London, was now enormous.

  Handed down over the generations from father to son, the chain had been cruelly broken with the tragically early death of her parents in a car accident, when Gina had been only a little girl. Since her father had been an only child, she’d been raised by her grandparents, always knowing that she was the sole heiress to the family business.

  Unfortunately, her increasingly desperate prayers each night—that her dear grandfather would remain at the helm for many years to come—were looking increasingly unlikely to be answered. He’d never really recovered from the death of her beloved grandmother, five years ago, and appeared to be growing more frail in body, if not in spirit, with each passing day. And she dreaded the prospect of having to take over the running of the business in the near future.

  On the other hand, her grandfather had certainly done all he could to give her a good grounding in the wine trade. He’d been pleased when she had developed a good ‘nose’ and palate, and delighted when she’d passed the necessary exams to become a Master of Wine. And now, with her recent appointment as manager of the firm’s Ipswich shop and warehouse, she was in the process of gaining valuable business experience.