by Tessa Shapcott, Executive Editor, Harlequin Presents
We’ve met the winner and the runners-up in our Instant Seduction first chapter and synopsis competition.  Now it’s time to unveil the first chapters and synopses that grabbed our judging team’s eye.

As you will already know from previous posts, Sally Williamson is now working with our outright winner, Lynn Rae Harris, and our two runners-up, Dani Collins and Eve Powers, have also received editors’ critiques plus requests to either see the rest of their manuscript or a fresh partial.

Here’s your chance to judge for yourself those first chapters and also see what our editors had to offer in the way of feedback…
First up: Lynn’s chapter one
Tomorrow: Lynn’s synopsis
Thursday: the critique

 

THE SPANISH MAGNATE’S REVENGE
by
Lynn Raye Harris

 

CHAPTER ONE

“This can’t be happening.”  Rebecca Layton stared at the computer screen, the glass of Chateau Margaux she’d just poured forgotten in her hand.  The numbers scrolling across the ticker weren’t possible.  Her heart slowed to a crawl, then shot through the roof as the numbers kept falling.

Someone was making a grab for her company.  As soon as the stock bottomed out, someone was going to buy every last share they could get their hands on.  She snatched up her cell phone, not the least bit surprised when it rang in her hand. 

“We’ve got trouble, Becca,” her chief financial officer said. 

“I know.”  Rebecca sucked in a shaky, angry breath.  “We have to stop this sell off.”

“Someone knows about the merger with Bankes.” 

“That’s impossible.”  She scraped a hand through her short curls.  “I met with Bankes ten minutes ago.  He just now agreed to let us acquire his resorts.”

John tumbled on.  “I put in an order to buy, but we’re cash poor until this merger goes through.  We’re bleeding to death here.”
As if she didn’t know it.  The numbers scrolling across the NASDAQ ticker were a death knell, sliding lower and lower, until she could feel the company she’d built into an international conglomerate melting away beneath her.

“Let me make some calls.”  She clicked off the line without waiting for a reply. 
Of all the times to leave New York.  She lifted her gaze to the floor-to-ceiling picture window that fronted her Waikiki suite.  Palms swayed in the tropical trade winds, danced rhythmically against white-capped turquoise waves.

So much for Hawaiian relaxation time.  She paged her executive assistant.  Jane called immediately, though Rebecca had given her the afternoon off after the meeting with Bankes.  Rebecca relayed instructions to book them on the next flight to New York.  When she hung up, she reached for her day planner and prepared to call in some favors before they headed for the airport.
Her cell phone rang again and she automatically picked it up.  Very few people had her private number, and even fewer would dare disturb her when she was on a business trip.  Unless it was important.  And right now, Layton International’s dropping stock price was nothing short of cataclysmic. 

“Yes,” she said, her attention on flipping through her list of contacts.

“Hello, Rebecca.”

Rebecca’s breath sliced into her lungs as her head whipped up.  The planner slid from her lap.  “Alejandro?”

“You did not expect to hear from me again, no?”

Rebecca closed her eyes, her gut clenching with a mixture of need and sorrow.  Five long years since she’d heard that voice.  “This is a bad time, Alejandro.  I really can’t talk.”

His laugh, so cool and controlled, brought an image back to her.  Alejandro Arroyo Rivera de Ramirez, the sexiest man she’d ever seen, naked to the waist, water streaming from his muscular chest in rivulets as he lifted himself from the pool.  His sexy laugh as he scooped her up and hauled her into his bedroom.  He hadn’t even dried off.  The second she’d said yes, he’d come for her.  And then he’d spent the night showing her how amazing he truly was.

“You need only listen, querida.”

Something in his tone silenced her automatic protest.  It hadn’t ended well between them.  Her heart kicked into double time.  She reached for the wine glass, took a steadying sip.

“I expect you in Madrid in twenty-four hours.  Spend the flight thinking how you will convince me to keep you on the board of directors.”

White-hot anger shot through her, rocketing her to her feet.  “You did this?  You engineered the takeover of my company?”  Rebecca paced, one hand spearing through her hair as cold sweat moistened her skin.  “It’s not over yet, Alejandro.  The markets haven’t closed.  You’re counting chickens.”

“Counting chickens?”  His laugh this time was warmer.  “Ah, one of your Americanisms.  Never count the chickens before they hatch, right?”  She heard him speaking to someone in Spanish.  “It is a done deal, Rebecca.  Layton International belongs to Ramirez Enterprises.  Delay if you wish, but you risk more than your own skin.  You owe it to your employees to come advise the board on how to handle my new acquisition.”

Rebecca sank onto a rattan chair.  “I think I hate you right now.”

“Then we are even.”  The line went dead.

###

She’d hoped to be housed in luxury at the Villa de Musica, the Ramirez crown jewel in the heart of Madrid.  The hotel was old world elegance to the extreme.  She loved its velvet couches, Moorish tiles, and impressive antiques.  She loved the ancient Turkish baths Alejandro had had tastefully renovated and the complimentary fluffy robes made of the finest hand-combed Egyptian cotton.  When she’d conceived her first hotel as head of Layton International, she’d aimed to meld the European elegance of the Villa de Musica with a modern resort feel.  In each successive hotel, she’d tried to blend the best of the old and new.  If her success over the last few years was any indication, she’d done her job well.

At least until yesterday.

She was still reeling from shock.  How quickly she’d lost everything she’d worked for.  How quickly she found herself back at square one.  No, not square one, because when she’d started she’d at least had her father’s small hotel chain to work with.  Now, she had nothing.

After what seemed like hours in traffic, the limo pulled into a private drive somewhere in the hills of Madrid.  She wasn’t sure where they were, but she remembered passing the Palacio Real, the official residence of the King and Queen of Spain.  A uniformed man helped her from the vehicle while another retrieved her bags.  Within moments, she was whisked through a marble atrium and into a masculine office overlooking a terrace with a pool.

Rebecca drifted over to the window and clasped her hands together.  She’d been traveling for almost twenty-four hours straight.  Her wrinkled suit clung to her body like an old rag, her curls had lost their bounce hours ago, and she desperately needed a hot shower. 
Clearly, Alejandro would give her no quarter before he gloated over his triumph. 

Well, fine.  She’d endure it, and she’d refuse to react to his insults.  When the door behind her opened again, she put on her battle face and turned to meet him head on.

And, oh heavens, he was still the most amazingly handsome man she’d ever met.  Had she really spent hours exploring his tanned skin?  She remembered with every last nerve ending in her body how extraordinary it felt when he slid his hard length inside her. 
Over and over and over until she shuddered from the exquisite pleasure.

“I have a schedule for you,” he said, walking to the desk and pulling out a folder.  “You will read through these papers and be prepared to meet with the board first thing in the morning.  We will discuss your duties then.”

Rebecca clutched the folder automatically.  Something hot and thick lurched to life in her sluggish veins.  “That’s it?  No hi, how have you been?  No explanation?”

Ice-grey eyes regarded her dispassionately.  “I owe you no explanation, Rebecca.  I owe you nothing, in fact.  Be grateful you’re getting this much.”

“I’ve been doing okay, thanks for asking Alejandro,” she said, ignoring him.  “Or I was until yesterday.  And you?  How are you?  Did you marry the woman you conveniently forgot to tell me about that night?”

“I did,” he said coolly.

She blinked back tears.  Ridiculous to still be hurt over such a thing.  He was Alejandro Arroyo Rivera de Ramirez, ex-bullfighter, international playboy, billionaire financier.  Women had always fallen over him.  Always would.

And she’d been no different.

“You will be pleased to know we are divorced,” he continued.  “Alas, arranged marriages never work as planned.”

“Good for her for wising up.”

“Like you did?”

A bitter laugh burst from her throat.  “There was never a choice for me, Alejandro.  You were already engaged.”

“Promised, not engaged.”

Rebecca waved a hand.  “What is that, Spanish hair-splitting?  The truth is you were to marry another woman when you so conveniently seduced me.”

“You did not mind being seduced, as I recall.”

Heat blossomed in her belly.  Flooded her senses.  Gathered between her thighs.  “I was stupid—and blind to your true nature.”

His square jaw flexed.  He hitched a leg onto the corner of the desk, his custom trousers stretching tight against one hard thigh.  “And just what is my true nature, querida?”

Danger saturated his voice, but she was too angry to heed the warning.  No, what she itched to do was slap his sculpted profile.
“You’re a liar and a cheat.”

She stood her ground as he stalked her.  One arm snaked around her waist, yanked her against every last inch of his muscled body. 
The other hand gripped her jaw, forcing her to accept his kiss.  Fire exploded in her veins when his lips pressed to hers.

Her resistance vaporized.  Her mouth parted and his tongue slipped inside.  She shuddered as she met him stroke for stroke.  One of her hands threaded into his hair, luxuriated in its obsidian crispness.  His fingers slid beneath her blouse, teased her nipple through the lace of her bra.  It budded under his touch, sensitive and painful and neglected.  God, it’d been so long since she’d been with a man.
She held on to his shoulders, all sense of time and place forgotten as she lost herself in the hot need he called up.  If he pressed her to the floor right now, ripped off her clothes and impaled her with his hard maleness, she’d wrap her legs around him and hold on for the ride.

“You’re still sizzling, Rebecca,” he said as he broke the kiss.  “And you are still a slut.”

Her hand connected with his cheek before he could stop the blow.  He moved away from her, laughing.  She thanked God for the fury coursing through her right now because without it, shame would have eaten her alive.  How had she managed to lose every last shred of dignity she still possessed the instant he kissed her?

“Then I guess we know where we stand,” she said, her breath razoring in and out.  “And now I’d like to go to the hotel and get some rest, if you’re finished trying to humiliate me.”

“Your room is upstairs.”

She gaped at him.  “I’m staying here?  In your villa?  Is that wise?” she added on what she hoped was a cool note.

“I cannot possibly refuse the paying guests simply to house an employee.  You will stay here.”

An employee.  The word grated like nothing else ever had.  “Fine.  But don’t you ever touch me again.”

His mouth twitched.  “Are you sure about that?  You were not so chilly a moment ago.  Were you not remembering what it was like between us?”

She lifted her chin.  No sense lying because he’d see right through it.  “You’re a fine lover, Alejandro, but you aren’t the only man who knows his way around a woman’s body.  Men like you are easy to find if a woman knows where to look.”

“And where would that be?”  His look was half amused, half curious.

“I believe they like to hang out at resorts and fleece rich women out of their money.”

His brows drew together.  “You are calling me a gigolo?”

“Keep it in mind if the hotel thing doesn’t work out.”

He threw back his head and laughed.  Rebecca bit her lip to keep from grinning.  Last thing she needed was to share a light moment with this man.  He’d just stolen her company and ruined her career.  The thought was enough to harden her resolve.

He reached for the phone on his desk, touched a button.  “Senora Flores will show you to your room.”  She was almost to the door when his voice stopped her.  “And do not worry, querida, I have no intention of ever again accepting what you offer each time you look at me.”

Rebecca’s spine snapped ramrod straight.  “What’s that?  Sudden death?  Because if you see anything else, you are a deluded man.”

“Do not make me prove you wrong again.”

She gave him her best glare.  “Try me when I’m no longer jet-lagged, Alejandro.  I promise you the response will be much different.”

“Dios!”  He let out a rough breath.  Clearly, he was not as unaffected as he pretended.  “Go, before I do something we both regret.”

###

Alejandro returned to the villa late, having spent several hours at his sleek downtown office.  He tossed his Armani jacket across a chair in the master suite, loosened his tie and tugged it from his collar.  He started to pour a drink from the bar in his room, but changed his mind and pulled on a pair of swim trunks instead.  Right now, he needed the release heavy exercise could bring.

He hadn’t expected Rebecca Layton to get under his skin.  He’d spent one night with her five years ago.  One incredibly hot night that he couldn’t seem to forget no matter how he tried.  He pushed open the French doors and padded out to the pool.  Lights flooded the water from below, illuminating the terracotta and turquoise tiles.  He dove into the coolness, hoping it would drive the heat from his memory.

Why had he succumbed to the urge to kiss her?  That one kiss brought it all flooding back, especially when she clung to him, her soft moans coiling at the base of his spine, poisoning him with the urge to strip her naked and take her right there on the floor of his office.

“What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?”

Alejandro reached the wall, did a flip turn, and propelled himself back toward the voice.

“Swimming.”  The water came up to his abdomen as he stood and looked at her. 

“Not that,” she said.  “This.”  Rebecca thrust a handful of papers at him.  He ignored it and let his gaze wander over her sleek form.  A red headband held her curls back from her face and matched the muted Hawaiian-print dress she wore.  Slim legs tapered down to bare feet, but it was the circle of tiny white shells around one ankle that caught his attention.  They caressed her ankle with every tap of her foot, kissed her bare skin like a lover.

Like he’d once done.

His gaze snapped to her face.  “Those would be the plans to sell off a few of Layton’s less lucrative holdings.”

She took a step toward the pool.  “The New York location?  New York?  Are you crazy?”

“I assure you I am not.  That hotel is small, outdated.  It costs more in upkeep each year.”

The papers crinkled in her fist.  “Do you hate me so much?” she said in a smaller voice than he would have liked. 

Where was her fire, her inner spark that drew him against his will?  He shook his head.  Didn’t matter.  It was a ploy.  She would use anything to distract him, including sex.  How well he knew that about her.

“You used me to get information, Rebecca.  You slept with me, then stole what you learned about the London deal to grab it for yourself.  That move nearly destroyed Ramirez Enterprises.”

She tilted her head to one side.  “I didn’t…” 

“Didn’t what?” he said when she stopped speaking and stood there gazing off into space.

“You’re lying.”  She crossed her arms and glared down at him.  “You couldn’t possibly be wiped out by one deal gone bad.”

He pressed his hands on the pool deck and levered himself out of the water.  She took a step backward as he suddenly towered over her.  “Not today, no.  But things were shakier then.”

“So you drove my stock into the ground, bought a controlling interest, and now you plan to sell off my hotels one by one.”

He grabbed a towel from the lounge chair and wiped his face.  Then he gave her a nasty smile.  “Only the unprofitable ones, querida.”

“La Belle Amelie was the first hotel my father opened,” she said.  “He named it after my mother.”

Alejandro finished drying off and tossed the towel aside.  She looked at him like he’d kicked her puppy.  He hated it, hated the way she made him feel.  But she was oh so good at manipulating him, wasn’t she? 

Never again.

“It goes.”

Her laugh was bitter.  “To think I once believed—”  She shook her head, inched her chin higher.  Met his gaze firmly.  “I’ll buy it from you.  Give me a couple of weeks to put together the financing and I’ll—”

“You once believed what?”

“—make you a good offer.” 

“Believed what, querida?”

“Did you hear what I said?  I want to buy La Belle Amelie.  What I believed is of no consequence.”

“Did you think I would marry you after one night together?  Is that why you left?”

“God no!” 

She took another step back and he realized he’d been stalking her.  He moved casually toward the edge of the pool, gave her space.  The restless energy in him still demanded release, pounded through his body in waves.  The hum was almost sexual, primal.  Not much different from the way he’d felt whenever he faced a bull in the ring.  He wanted to conquer, subdue, triumph. 

“I left because you were engaged, Alejandro.”  Her chin fell as she studied the tiles at her feet.  “I thought you were an honorable man.  That’s what I once believed.”

If he’d been gored by a bull, he’d have felt less pain.  Less anger. 

The unbelievable nerve of this woman. 

“You dare to question my honor, when it was you who left, you who went to London and talked the Cahill Group into backing you instead of me?  I spent months putting that deal together and you yanked the rug from under me.  No, I will never sell La Belle Amelie to you!”  Alejandro dragged in a breath, willed calm to replace the seething fury roiling inside him.  “I’ll have it demolished first, Rebecca.  You can pick through the rubble and see what you can salvage then.”

She remained unnaturally silent, her slender form shaking.  He expected fury.  Tears maybe.  Pleading if she thought it would work. 
Sex as a last resort.

But the last thing he ever expected was for her to tackle him.

###

Everything went wrong the instant Rebecca lunged.  Fury ate at her gut like battery acid.  She’d planned to shove his arrogant carcass into the pool and go back to her room.  And then she was going to call her mother and Roger Cahill. Except the momentum required to throw Alejandro off balance tipped her too far forward.  Her arms wind-milled like crazy before she lost the fight and splashed down, landing on fifteen stone worth of angry Spanish male.

Something collided hard with the top of her head, and then she was sinking beneath the surface.  She sucked in a breath, gulped chlorine.  She needed to fight her way back up, needed to kick hard and breach the liquid barrier above her, but she couldn’t seem to do it.  Her limbs wouldn’t cooperate.

How ironic to die in Alejandro’s pool.  The last thought rattling through her brain was that if there were any justice in the world, he’d get blamed for her death.

A second later, air burst into her lungs.  She coughed sharply, spitting up water.  Her head lolled against something hard and warm.
Alejandro.

“Querida, speak to me,” he urged in a harsh voice. 

Her back pressed down on a hard surface and she realized he’d laid her on the tile beside the pool.  A moment later, he hovered over her, his hands bracketing her head, water dripping from his skin onto hers. 

She coughed again, her throat raw and burning.  A sob welled up from somewhere inside, but she refused to give in to it.  She gulped it back and stuffed it down deep.  The last thing she should ever do was show weakness in front of this man.

“Rebecca, amor, say something.  Call me a name, if it pleases you.”

“Arrogant idiot,” she sputtered, though it came out as little more than a whisper.  “Foolish Spaniard.”

He grinned down at her.  “I said one name, did I not?”

Her heart lurched.  Not a good thing.  “It makes me happy, calling you names.”

It also made her happy to see him smile at her, but that was a piece of information she had no intention of sharing.  One tear slipped from the corner of her eye and blazed a hot trail down her temple. 

“What happened?” she asked, dashing the tear away with her fingers.

“I was trying to move out of the way when you fell on top of me.  Your head connected with my elbow.”

“Oh.”

His fingers spanned her skull, probing softly.  He was so close his breath whispered over her skin, sent a shiver skimming.  “No bumps.  I think you will live.”

“Sell me the hotel, Alejandro,” she urged, her eyes searching his.  “It means nothing to you.”
“
And everything to you.”

“Yes.”  She pulled a deep breath into her lungs, savoring the sweet night air, forcing herself to go on though her throat was raw. 
“They built it together.  He knew she missed Paris, and he gave it a French theme.  There are family antiques in the hotel even now.”

“You may have them.  I won’t prevent you from taking what is sentimental to you.”

“The hotel is sentimental to me.  I beg you to reconsider.”

His gaze slid down her body, over the wet dress clinging to every curve.  One dark hand settled on her thigh, traced the outline of her leg, moving slowly up to her hip.  His touch burned her, even through the layer of wet material between them.  Mercy, what those fingers had done to her the last time they’d been together.
Rebecca bit her lip. 

“To what lengths are you willing to go, bella, to secure your hotel?”  His look was intense, as if a word or a nod from her would set into motion a seismic event that could not be stopped until they sprawled together in bed sated, replete—utterly ruined.

“I will do anything,” she said as his hand skimmed beneath her breast.  “Anything you ask of me.”
His head descended to her throat, blazed a trail up her neck, across her jaw.  She failed to swallow a moan.  He answered her with a growl, captured her lips.  She let him plunder her mouth, tangled her tongue with his because she had no prayer of stopping herself from doing that much.  His mouth was exquisite, capable of heat and tenderness and animal intensity all at once.

She wanted him as much as she ever had.  Craved him like an addiction.  Oh yes, she’d forgotten how intense this need for him could be. 

His hand returned to her thigh, inched her wet dress up her leg.  He shifted closer, the hot length of his erection pressing into her hip. 
He was full and thick, ready to prove to her a second time why he was still the best lover she’d ever known.

She wanted to let him.  Wanted it like she wanted her next breath.

But she couldn’t.

Rebecca broke the kiss, pushed at a mountain of muscled chest until he stopped, gazed down at her, his eyes searching hers.

“Anything you ask,” she said, never looking away, never taking the easy way out, “except this.”

He rocked back, stared at her in disbelief.  His expression hardened.  “Ah, I see.” 

She lifted herself onto her elbows, and then to a sitting position when her head no longer spun.  “I will buy it from you, Alejandro.  I won’t sleep with you for it.”

“My, how you’ve changed.”  Sarcasm thickened his voice.  “You weren’t so principled five years ago.”

He unfolded from the tile deck, rose to his full height.  And though she thought surely he’d like to strangle her at that moment, he reached out and offered his hand.  She took it, grateful for his strength as he helped her to her feet.  When she swayed, he steadied her. 

“I’m fine, it’s okay.”

He let her go, and she tried not to think how the loss of his touch left her feeling empty.

“And what if that’s my price, querida?  What if I want you to be my mistress?  Your body in exchange for a hotel.”

She closed her eyes.  “I would say the price is too high.”

“You would refuse?  Would have me sell your hotel to another bidder?”

She couldn’t speak.

“It could be yours, mi querida.  Think how easily you could have it.”  His voice was silky, full of sensual promise.  Heat blossomed. 

“You want to sleep with me.  Your body already knows what your mind will not admit.”

How easy it would be to say yes.  She almost gave in, almost told him to carry her to his room and make love to her.  But one look at his face told her he expected capitulation.  He was sure of himself, sure of his appeal—and she wasn’t positive he wasn’t trying to humiliate her. She wasn’t about to agree to this devil’s bargain only to have him be the one to ultimately refuse.

Besides, more than anything, she wanted to rattle his masculine pride.

She retrieved the papers from where she’d tossed them on a lounge chair.  “The answer is still no.”

 

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