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where it led. But his jacket was wet and, slipping it off, he dropped it onto the floor. Then after a moment’s hesitation he crossed the room and stepped into the short corridor beyond.
    Evidently, the hall gave access to her bedroom and bathroom. There were two doors and, although he knew he was being unforgiveably inquisitive, he went forward towards the first door.
    It was open, and was obviously her bedroom. He saw a rose-patterned bedspread and clothes laid out upon it. Was she preparing to go out? he wondered, unconsciously unfastening his collar as an unfamiliar twinge of something gripped his insides. He couldn’t be jealous, he told himself, pulling his tie halfway down his shirt. It wasn’t as if there was any way he could become involved with an English woman.
    Yet…
    Another door opened across the room and Isobel appeared, clad only in a skimpy half-bra and lacy briefs. She’d made an effort to dry her hair with the towel, but it was still curling wildly about her shoulders. She looked distracted, but amazingly sexy, and Alejandro felt his body respond.
    She hadn’t noticed him yet. She was too intent on picking up the filmy stockings from the bed and sitting down to roll them up her slender legs. But something, a sudden intake of breath on his part perhaps, caused her to glance in his direction.
    With one leg raised so that he could plainly see the honey-gold curls escaping from the crotch of her panties, she was irresistibly appealing and, despite her gasp of outrage, Alejandro moved slowly into the room.
    ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Isobel could barely get the words past her lips, and, tugging off her stockings, she rolled them into a ball and flung them angrily in his direction. ‘Get out of here!’ she exclaimed, her voice rising half in panic, half in indignation. ‘I—I asked you to wait in the other room.’
    ‘As I recall, you did not make any— como se diz? —any stipulation, nao , as to where you wanted me to stay,’ Alejandro contradicted her, huskily catching the ball of black silk in one hand and raising it to his face. ‘Mmm, they smell of you,’ he went on as she rose from the bed to face him. ‘Do not be angry, cara . You are a beautiful woman. Do not be ashamed of your body.’
    ‘I’m not ashamed!’ Isobel caught her breath. ‘But, if that’s supposed to be some sort of apology, I don’t accept it. You have no right to come here, uninvited, and behave as if I should be flattered.’
    ‘It was not an apology,’ inserted Alejandro mildly, dropping the stockings onto the floor and looking down at her with light, disturbing eyes. ‘I was merely speaking the truth, querida . Do not blame me for that.’
    ‘Oh, right.’ Isobel glanced about her wildly, looking for something—her dressing gown, perhaps—to cover hersemi-nakedness. But she’d taken her robe into the bathroom, and the trousers and sleeveless wrap-tank she’d been planning to wear offered little in the way of protection. ‘And I suppose if I were a Brazilian girl you’d behave in exactly the same way?’
    Alejandro’s lips thinned. Despite recent events, he couldn’t deny that there was no way Miranda’s mother would have allowed him to enter her daughter’s bedroom, even if he’d wanted to. Despite the new freedoms the twenty-first century had brought, women of good family clung to the old ways. Oh, that wasn’t to say that young people didn’t rebel. He was sure Miranda had done things her mother knew nothing about. But on the surface anyway the old customs applied, and he was honest enough to admit he’d want it no other way.
    The silence between them stretched, and when he didn’t answer her her lips twisted in contempt. ‘I didn’t think so,’ she said, turning her back on him. ‘Now, will you please get out of here?’
    Alejandro’s hands balled into fists, the urge to grip her shoulders and pull her back against him almost overwhelming. From this angle, he was offered only