The Spaniard's Kiss Read online

  One moment will change their friendship forever…

  Widow Isobel Sinclair knows it’s time to move on, and she believes the next chapter in her life involves a baby. All she needs is a man to help her with the finer details. Unfortunately, right now the only man in her life is her husband’s best friend, Rafael Sanchez. And an incredibly wealthy, super-hot player is not exactly family material.

  That’s okay since she wants a baby sans the husband part.

  Billionaire playboy Rafael has carefully hidden his longing for Isobel over the years. He’s wanted her from the moment they met. When desire sparks between them, Rafael faces a choice beyond imagining: give Isobel what she wants…or lose her forever. He has a good reason why a child can’t be in his future, but telling Isobel the truth could destroy everything.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Nina Croft… Blackmailed by the Italian Billionaire

  Losing Control

  Out of Control

  Taking Control

  Bittersweet Blood

  Bittersweet Magic

  Bittersweet Darkness

  Break Out

  Deadly Pursuit

  Death Defying

  Temporal Shift

  Operation Saving Daniel

  Betting on Julia

  The Descartes Legacy

  Remember Me

  Discover more category romance titles from Entangled Indulgence… His Billion Dollar Baby

  The Baby Bargain

  Heart and Sole

  The Billionaire’s Christmas Baby

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Nina Croft. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Indulgence is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Candace Havens

  Cover design by Kelley York

  Cover art from Shutterstock

  ISBN 978-1-62266-701-7

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition July 2015

  For Rob—who made living in this fabulous part of Spain a possibility.

  Prologue

  Spain

  “Bella?”

  A squeak escaped her and she sank beneath the surface of the water. A second later, she came up spluttering. Blinking to clear her eyes, she pushed herself to her feet, wrapped her arms around her middle, and peered into the darkness. The moon had risen above the mountains, illuminating the tall figure standing in the shadows, and the tension eased out of her.

  “God, Rafe, you made me jump.”

  He took a step forward, halting at the edge of the water, hands shoved in his pockets, a frown between his eyes. “What the hell are you doing out here alone?”

  “Thinking.” She shrugged. “I always come up here to think.”

  “Here” was a natural pool in the mountain up behind her house, formed where a thermal spring bubbled out of the hillside. The water remained warm even in January, and steam drifted up from the surface like tendrils of mist.

  “Thinking about what?” he asked.

  “Lots of things.”

  Moving on, mostly. Living in Spain had been her husband’s dream, not hers, but Gary had been dead for two years now. It was time to stand on her own two feet and go after a few dreams of her own.

  Her hand slid down to rest over the flatness of her stomach—one day.

  “Come on out.” Rafe’s demand dragged her from her thoughts.

  “Can’t.” She grinned up at him. “I’ve got no clothes on.”

  His gaze dropped, and his eyes narrowed. Her bare breasts were exposed, the water lapping at the tips.

  She should retreat, or duck down, or tell him to go away. But honestly, did it matter that she was naked? Rafe probably wouldn’t even notice. He’d be too busy lecturing her about the dangers of pneumonia. He’d never seen her that way. She would always be the wife of his dead friend.

  He didn’t speak again, just leaned toward her and held out his hand. Bella peered up into the hard, handsome planes of his face, his blue eyes almost black in the moonlight. No longer expressionless, they gleamed with an emotion she’d never seen in them before, and a prickle of unease ran over her skin.

  Ignoring the sensation—this was Rafe, after all—she reached up, slid her palm into his, and allowed him to pull her from the water. Once on dry land, she tugged to free her hand, but his grip tightened. His focus remained fixed on her breasts, and they grew heavy, her nipples tightening.

  Whoa.

  What was going on?

  Rafe had been Gary’s best friend, now hers by default, and her goddamned nipples had no right to do anything in his presence.

  Maybe it was just the cold air, and Rafe’s staring was purely coincidental. Still, she wanted to tell him to let go, stop staring, make a joke that would get things back to normal, but her throat was dry and the words stuck.

  When she didn’t move, he reached out with his other hand, his fingers sliding beneath her hair, sure and firm, tilting her head toward him. He stroked the line of her jaw, the pad of his thumb grazing her lower lip, and all the muscles in her belly clenched tight.

  Oh my God, he’s going to kiss me.

  It was inconceivable, but she couldn’t move away.

  Curiosity?

  How far would he take this? Why was he taking it anywhere? And maybe more to the point—why was she standing here like a total moron and letting him?

  The first touch of his mouth was gentle, but her lips tingled and shivers ran over her skin.

  “Are you real or just my imagination?” he whispered against her lips.

  She decided the question was rhetorical, and anyway, he didn’t wait for an answer, just kissed her again. This time, his mouth slanted hard over hers, his tongue stroking across her lower lip. “Kiss me, Bella,” he murmured.

  His voice was low, like crushed velvet caressing her ears, drugging her mind, and for a moment she relaxed. Her mouth fell open, and his tongue pushed slowly inside, hot and wet, sliding against her own. Her body melted, growing heavy and unbelievably hot.

  She almost protested when his lips left hers, but his warm breath feathered against her ear, distracting her. Then he was kissing her neck, lingering over the spot where her blood thundered close to the surface.

  Any moment now he was going to pull away, turn back into the old Rafe. And he was going to be so shocked, because she was naked, and he’d kissed her, and…

  His hands slid down over her, leaving a trail of fire and turning her brain to mush. They settled for a moment on her waist, and then slipped around to caress the bare skin of her back and lower. He urged her toward him until the heat of his bo
dy warmed her through his thin silk shirt. The clean, masculine scent of him mingled with sharp, spicy aftershave filled her nostrils. She was drowning. Nothing had ever felt this good. Ever.

  And that thought shocked her to hell and back. This was so not right. She tugged on his hair. “Rafe! Stop!”

  For a second, his fingers tightened on her hips. Then he wrenched himself free and stepped back. “Shit.”

  Yeah.

  He stood motionless for a second, hands fisted at his sides, damp shirt clinging to his broad chest. Then he exhaled loudly, leaned down, picked up her clothes, and tossed them toward her. “Dios, put something on.”

  She caught the clothes and dressed quickly. “Hey, don’t sound so pissed off,” she muttered. “You kissed me, remember. Not the other way around.”

  “Perhaps it’s best we forget that ever happened.”

  Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.

  Her lips still tingled from his kiss, her body flushed with heat. She opened her mouth to reply, but he’d already whirled around and was gone.

  Bella stared after him.

  Holy crap. Rafe had kissed her.

  Like he wanted her. Really wanted her.

  She hadn’t seen that coming.

  Chapter One

  Six months later

  A pair of legs and an ass.

  That was all Rafe could see, but it was enough to grab his attention, because the legs were long and slender and the ass full and curvaceous and barely covered by a pair of skimpy denim cutoffs. It was also pointed straight up at him where he stood at the first-floor window of his grandfather’s villa. Rafe recognized her immediately, despite never having seen her from quite this angle before.

  Bella.

  The rest of her vanished into a dense green bush swathed in crimson flowers.

  What the hell was she doing?

  Her legs were golden brown, and her feet covered in thick woolen socks and heavy work boots. He didn’t think work boots had ever entered into his sexual fantasies before. Scarlet stilettos were more his thing. An image flashed in his mind—a pair of four-inch heels on the end of those endless legs—and a wave of unwelcome heat washed over him, settling low in his gut. It had been a long time since a woman had affected him in this way. Six months, to be precise. Back then, it had been the very same woman, and the sensation had been just as unwelcome.

  He still couldn’t believe he’d kissed her. Something he’d sworn never to do. Bella was a friend; that’s all she was, that’s all she could ever be. He’d made the decision a long time ago, and Gary’s death didn’t change that.

  The kiss had been a mistake of gargantuan proportions. But God help him, she’d been naked! Totally, gloriously naked. He’d spent most of the last six months trying to purge the memory from his mind. And failing.

  A light tap at the door brought him back to the present. He shook his head and glanced around. Peter North, his assistant, stood in the doorway.

  “How is he?” Rafe asked. His grandfather had been asleep when he’d arrived, and Rafe hadn’t wanted to disturb him. He was awake now, but the doctor was with him.

  “He’s fine. As I told you on the phone—it was a minor attack.”

  Rafe had been in Hong Kong at the time and had headed straight back despite Peter’s assurance that his grandfather was in no immediate danger. Probably his mad rush was due to guilt. He shouldn’t have stayed away so long.

  He worried about the old man; he was getting frail, and this place was too remote. Situated in the mountains between the Sierra Nevada range and the Mediterranean, the villa was a long way from the nearest hospital. Rafe had tried to get him to move to London where he’d be close to the best medical facilities, but his attempts were futile. His grandfather had lived here all his life and loved these mountains. God knows why—Rafe had never understood the attraction.

  “Is the doctor finished?” he asked.

  “He’ll be done in five minutes.”

  “Good.”

  He turned back to the window and stood, hands in his pockets, observing the scene below. Peter came up beside him and whistled softly. “Nice.”

  Rafe stiffened. It was nice, but for some reason, he didn’t like Peter sharing the view. Bella was hardly his property, but he still felt protective of her.

  Protective. Yes. That was how he felt—he just had to keep reminding himself of that.

  “What’s she doing?” he asked.

  “Pruning, I would think. She must be the new gardener your grandfather employed.”

  Rafe frowned. Why the hell would she be working as a gardener? He’d asked his grandfather to keep an eye on her, not to employ her. The old man would have looked out for her anyway. He’d been fond of Gary since he started coming here on holidays with Rafe when they were boys.

  They watched in silence as she wriggled backward. It was a slow process, hindered by bits of bush that caught in her clothes and long, dark red ponytail. By the time she’d completely extracted herself, Rafe felt like some sort of voyeur, and Peter shifted uncomfortably beside him.

  Scrambling to her feet, she brushed herself off, plucking broken twigs and crimson petals out of her hair. She still faced away from the window, and Rafe silently willed her to turn around. Finally, she turned so she stood in profile, and he ran his eyes hungrily over her. The skimpy shorts were topped by an equally skimpy khaki tank top that clung to the full curves of her breasts, leaving zero to the imagination and making it obvious that she wore nothing underneath.

  Not that he needed imagination. He’d seen the real thing. Dios, why couldn’t he delete that image from his head?

  Protective.

  His eyes shifted to her face. Her hair had grown since their last meeting, long enough to touch her ass, and she’d lost weight, but otherwise she looked the same—gorgeous.

  “Her name’s Isabel Sinclair,” Peter offered from beside him.

  “I know who she is—what’s she doing working here?” Pete did security checks on all the new employees. He’d know the details.

  “She’s English—a widow with a small farm across the valley.” Peter sounded nervous now, as though he wasn’t sure what was going on. But then he’d only been with the company a year and would be unaware of Rafe’s history with Bella. “I gather she’s struggling to make ends meet. Your grandfather probably felt sorry for her.”

  Why was she struggling? He’d presumed Gary must have left her well off, but obviously not. And if she needed money, why the hell hadn’t she come to him? That was something he could legitimately do for her, within the bounds of his protective role. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted to ask him for help after that kiss. Maybe she thought he would demand something in return.

  Not for the first time, guilt prodded him in the gut. Lately the emotion seemed to be a regular companion. Oh, she’d kissed him back—for all of about ten seconds—but probably because he’d taken her by surprise. She’d never shown any sign she saw him as anything other than her husband’s friend, her friend. As far as he was aware, she’d never looked at any man other than Gary.

  God, he was a bastard for kissing her.

  The first time he’d seen her, eight years ago, was like being hit over the head with a blunt object. Hard. He’d wanted her from that moment. She was seventeen. Half tomboy, half siren. Rafe had been twenty-two, and he’d felt like a total pervert. She’d also been about to lose her virginity to the best friend Rafe had ever had. He remembered wishing that Gary hadn’t confided in him quite so much.

  Spending time with Bella had felt the same ever since—an almost painful blend of desire and guilt. He’d hidden his reactions and made sure he treated her like his kid sister. Lusting after his best friend’s girlfriend, then wife, was not on his list of acceptable behavior.

  But even if she hadn’t been Gary’s girl, no way would he get involved with her. Gary had told him all Bella wanted from life was a home and a family, and Rafe could give her neither. He’d grown up knowing those things would ne
ver be an option for him, and despite the money he poured into medical research, nothing had changed since then. He’d thought he was reconciled. He’d been wrong. Rolling his shoulders, he tried to ease the tension as an echo of remembered pain ran through him.

  It had been easier when Bella was totally off-limits. He’d found the one woman he could imagine making a life with, and he couldn’t have her. She belonged to Gary.

  Except now, Gary was gone.

  He’d done a good job of being Bella’s “friend.” Until that night at the thermal spring, when like a total moron—or more probably like a horny teenager who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants—he’d kissed her. The memory still had the power to make him hot and hard.

  The following morning, he’d discovered some urgent business demanding his immediate attention back in London. Okay—he was deluding himself. The truth was, he’d run away. And stayed away. Waiting for the memory of that kiss to fade. It hadn’t happened. Then his grandfather fell ill and he’d hurried back.

  He could get through this. As long as he didn’t mention the kiss, they could return to the relationship they’d always had.

  No problem.

  …

  He’d been gone six months. Six months and no word.

  Snip. Snip.

  She cut the head off a perfectly innocent geranium.

  How dare he kiss her and then disappear for six months? Not that the kiss hadn’t been nice—okay maybe “nice” was an understatement—but that was beside the point. He was supposed to be her friend. That’s not how friends behaved. And he was only back because of his grandfather’s heart attack. Who knew when he would have honored them with his presence otherwise? She’d missed him—hadn’t realized how much she had come to rely on his sporadic visits.

  Bella kept busy through the long morning, but by two o’clock, she’d pruned everything that could possibly be pruned. He wouldn’t dare leave without seeing her, would he? She contemplated marching up to the house and demanding a confrontation, or tying herself to his helicopter so he couldn’t leave without seeing her.

  She wanted her friend back. That meant they had to face up to that kiss, show that it meant nothing, and get back to normal.