The Spaniard's Kiss Read online

  But he couldn’t do it. Common sense had deserted him along with his sanity.

  Where the hell was Pete?

  He got up, strode back to the window, and went instantly still. The shepherd was gone, but now she was chatting with Pete. Rafe jammed his hands into his pockets to stop himself from banging on the glass. Pete was single.

  Pete turned to leave, and Bella reached out and put a hand on his arm. Every muscle in Rafe’s body tightened.

  I want your baby, she’d said to Rafe that night. But it was obvious that she wasn’t bothered by whose baby she had. It occurred to him that he had a moral duty to warn his fellow men what she was up to. After all, nobody liked to be exploited. Though looking at her, he was sure most men would put up with being used to have that delectable body at their disposal.

  She was obviously not yet over Gary’s death or the miscarriage—the miscarriage had hit her hard. She’d wanted that baby desperately, and Rafe had been powerless to help her.

  But it was also obvious she wasn’t seeing clearly if she was willing to grab any guy just to get pregnant. She was young. One day, she’d find someone to love and have the chance for other babies.

  Just not with him.

  He ignored the pain that thought awoke inside him. There was no point wishing for what couldn’t be.

  He’d been eight when his father left his mother. They’d married when she was eighteen and pregnant with Rafe. His father had been a year older—a Spanish waiter working on the coast—and they should never have met in the normal course of things. She was sophisticated, loved the city. He was the son of a shepherd who longed for a simple life and the mountains.

  His mother had wanted more children. His father hadn’t. Rafe now understood there had been far more fueling their bitter quarrels, but that didn’t change the fact that they loved each other, and it wasn’t enough.

  They said love conquered all, but Rafe knew firsthand what a load of crap that was.

  His father had died a year after leaving, and his mother had remarried. She’d been happy with her second husband—he’d given her the lifestyle she’d wanted as well as four more children—but it wasn’t a love match.

  Rafe wasn’t ready to settle for that sort of arrangement, either. So he stuck to relationships where the women wanted the same things he did. Mature, successful career women. Women absolutely nothing like Bella.

  But it appeared Bella was going to do this baby thing, with or without him. She’d made that perfectly clear.

  “Don’t worry,” she’d told him, shortly after the immoral womanizer comment. “Forget I mentioned it. There are loads of other men out there.”

  He ground his teeth at the memory of her words. He’d presumed she hadn’t meant it. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Could he stand by and do nothing while she went ahead with her plan with some seedy Spanish shepherd who already had six hungry mouths to feed? Or with Pete, who obviously didn’t realize how close he was to instant dismissal?

  It would be a grand dereliction of his promise to Gary to allow her jump into a relationship for the sole reason of procreation. So she had to be stopped.

  She needed to get away from this place and from the memories, realize there were other things in life.

  What if he gave her a tentative yes, but convinced her they should spend some time together before making such a momentous decision? Three months, and then they would see if she still felt the same.

  If she did, he was fucked, because there were reasons he couldn’t help her. Irrevocable reasons.

  But hopefully, she’d come to her senses.

  For the first time in two days, some of the tension eased inside him. He’d been fighting the inevitable, and it felt good to give in at last. He leaned against the wall and stared down at her, contemplated the pleasure of telling her that he was ready and willing to pay her price. But not just yet.

  He was going to lie through his teeth, and all for a good cause.

  …

  Bella waited until Pete disappeared into the house before glancing up at the first-floor window. While she couldn’t see inside, she could detect a small movement, and little prickles ran over her skin. Rafe was spying on her.

  Again.

  He was always watching her, which was having a disastrous effect on her behavior. She’d never before flirted in her life. If anyone had asked, she’d have said she didn’t know how to flirt. Yet a few minutes ago, she’d actually found herself fluttering her eyelashes at Pete.

  It was all Rafe’s fault. She was pretty certain what he was thinking as he studied her. He thought she was chatting them up, making them an offer. The same one she’d made him.

  How many times over the past two days had she considered marching up to him and telling him that her plea for help had been a joke? That she didn’t want his baby?

  But something stopped her. No doubt the same something that made her flutter her eyelashes at Pete and smile at poor Antonio, the shepherd, who had no clue why she was so friendly.

  Because while Rafe might have ranted and raved, he hadn’t actually said no.

  She’d seen him yesterday, observing her as she talked to the doctor, suspicion clear in his eyes. What did he expect her to do? Leap on the old man and beg him to impregnate her? Bella almost laughed at the thought—the doctor was pleasant but was also nearing sixty. She’d actually been asking how Rafe’s grandfather was. She was fond of the old man. The doctor had told her he was on the mend. Did that mean Rafe would leave soon? Go back to London? Who knew how long it would be before she saw him again? She sighed and returned to weeding the flower beds surrounding the vast turquoise swimming pool. Slipping on her earphones, she tried to convince herself to go tell him to forget she’d ever said anything. Reveal to him her plan to leave this place in the autumn, find a job, and build a career. She’d taken the position with his grandfather to save a little nest egg to keep her going until the farm sold.

  Then she’d think about the other things she wanted from life. But she’d told Rafe the truth. She had no intention of marrying again. She’d loved Gary, maybe too much. She’d buried her dreams for him, because subconsciously she was terrified he would one day walk away like everyone else she loved. In the end, he hadn’t walked away, but she’d lost him anyway.

  A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped. Pete again. “Rafe wants to see you,” he said.

  A shiver ran through her. Was that good or bad? “He does?”

  Pete nodded, and Bella scrambled to her feet. As she followed him into the house and up the stairs, thoughts raced through her mind. What did Rafe want? Maybe just to tell her he was leaving. Or order her to stop flirting. Or… Deep in thought, she almost ran into Peter, who had stopped in front of the set of double doors leading to Rafe’s office. He smiled at her encouragingly, tapped on the door, pushed it open, and gestured for her to enter.

  The room was huge, with a bank of electronic equipment down one wall. She hovered for a moment and then stepped inside, and the doors clicked shut behind her.

  Rafe sat behind a large desk. He appeared relaxed, face expressionless, his dark blue eyes observing her steadily.

  She forced herself to move closer, her boots clattering against the terra-cotta-tiled floor. Coming to a halt, she regarded him across the wide expanse of desk, and a flush of warmth heated her skin; a pulse throbbed in her throat. She tried not to squirm. This was like being back in school, hauled in front of the headmaster’s desk.

  Well maybe not quite like school, she couldn’t help thinking as his gaze dropped from her face, over her breasts, down her legs. A slight smile flickered across his face as he took in her clumsy work boots. Then his eyes met hers.

  “What?” she asked, her tone belligerent. “I do have important weeding to do.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Okay.”

  Bella frowned. “Okay? Okay what?”

  “You can have my baby.”

  Suddenly light-headed, Bella groped behind her to
steady herself on the chair, then sank onto it because her legs refused to hold her any longer. She scrutinized him to see if he was joking, but he appeared serious.

  “There’s one condition,” he continued.

  “There is?”

  “Only after we’ve spent some time together. I’m not convinced you’ve thought this through.”

  “I—”

  “You were always impetuous. And stubborn. We need to take things slowly. I know you say you don’t want marriage, but a child will bind us together more than any wedding ring. And there are legal and financial implications to sort out. I’ll make adequate provision—”

  “I don’t want your money.” She latched onto that.

  “You have no choice. My child will not be brought up in poverty.”

  Bella’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She had what she wanted. Or did she? He was right—of course she hadn’t thought it through. An image of a beautiful baby had flashed in her mind, and she’d jumped in with both feet. Rafe’s baby. He was the closest thing to Gary she could get—they’d been like brothers. And he was her friend. If she wanted a baby, wasn’t he the perfect choice? She clamped her mouth closed and stared at him.

  A small smile curved his lips. “So, everything is agreed. I’m heading back to London this afternoon. You can close down the farm and join me there within the week.”

  “Join you? You mean live together.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t live with anyone. I’ll find you somewhere to stay to start with. If you want your own place later, then that’s up to you. But I’ll make sure we see each other.”

  She rubbed her finger between her eyes. Why did she feel like she’d lost control of the situation? Hah—when had she deluded herself she was in control? She took a deep breath. “So, let me get this straight…” Swallowing, she forced herself to go on. “I come over there and we ‘see’ each other. Just what does that involve? Will we…” She trailed off, not quite getting up the nerve to put the question into words.

  “Have sex? Not until you’re sure of what you want. We’ll take things slowly.”

  “That sounds good.” Actually, she’d prefer fast—get it over with—but that sounded a little…eager.

  “Girlfriends are easy to come by,” he continued almost gently, as if he was warning her of something. “Real friends are much harder. I’ve always believed we were friends. You need to be sure you’re willing to lose our friendship if you go ahead with this—a baby will change our relationship.”

  The words shocked her almost more than his earlier agreement. She didn’t want to lose his friendship, but she didn’t see why that had to be the case—as long as they were both honest about their motivations.

  “Rafe, do you want me?” she asked.

  A tic jumped in his cheek, and she presumed he was going to deny it. “Yes.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Oh.” She thought for a moment how to word this. “And you’ve said your…relationships never last. So you get me, and presumably, by the time I get my baby, you’ll no longer want me. We can go back to being friends with no nasty, bothersome sex to get in the way.”

  “Nasty, bothersome sex?” His tone held disbelief, and she had to clamp her lips closed to stop the giggle from falling out. Then he rose to his feet, and her urge to laugh did a runner straight out the door. He was so huge and intimidating. How had she never noticed before?

  “Well”—she licked her lips—“I’m sure it won’t be nasty. I’m sure it will be very…nice. After all, you’ve had a lot of practice.”

  His eyes narrowed, and that tic was on the go again. She sat glued to the chair, unable to move as he came around the desk, strolling with a languid grace that set her pulse throbbing in her veins. And something very inconvenient occurred to her.

  She wanted him.

  The need had been simmering under the surface since the kiss. She’d been doing her best to ignore it, but now every muscle in her body tightened as he came to stand in front of her. She kept her focus straight ahead, so she stared at his middle, somewhere around where his white shirt tucked into his black pants. He was so big, so masculine, and a fire flickered to life in her belly. For the first time, she considered exactly what they would have to do together to make a baby. Her eyes flickered lower, straying to the bulge in his pants, then she screwed them up tight. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a deep breath and thought about saying something.

  “Don’t you ever wear a bra?” he asked.

  Her gaze flew up. His was focused on her breasts, and she fought the urge to cover them with her hands. They were already decently covered. “What?”

  “A bra?” he repeated. “While I have to admit the view is very nice, it might be better if not everyone got to appreciate it.”

  Bella squirmed. “It’s too hot.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured, “you do look a little warm.” His voice was low, husky, and a tremor ran through her. He leaned closer, reached out, and stroked a finger along her collarbone. “And you definitely feel a little on the hot side.”

  At his touch, the fire inside her roared to life, scorching along her nerves, and she was suddenly intensely aware of every part of her body.

  Get a grip.

  Wasn’t he supposed to be the one doing the wanting?

  From the flare of his nostrils, he must have sensed her reaction to him, and she needed to do something, anything, so he didn’t have complete control of this meeting.

  She opened her mouth to tell him she hadn’t meant it in the first place. That she didn’t want his baby after all. That he didn’t have to worry about her. That she had her life under control. Before she could say a word, he leaned down and kissed her open mouth. Tingles spread from her lips throughout her body.

  What was I saying?

  He wanted to be friends and he’d kissed her. Maybe that was a “friendly” kiss. Though certain parts of her body were convinced his gesture meant more. Confused didn’t begin to describe what she was feeling right now.

  He straightened. “I’ll have my lawyer set up an account,” he said, his gaze dropping to her breasts again. “Buy some lingerie.”

  The conversation passed somewhere way over her head. How could she think about clothes when she could still taste him?

  His eyes were focused on her mouth, and she was sure he was going to kiss her again. She might have even leaned in a little bit closer. Instead, he took a step back.

  “You do look hot. Perhaps you should take a dip in the pool. In the meantime, I have to say good-bye to my grandfather. I’ll see you in London.”

  He gave her one last comprehensive glance and strode out of the room.

  Bella stayed in her chair for a long time, staring out of the window at the cloudless blue sky. At some point a door banged down the corridor, rousing her from her stupor. She blinked and looked around the study.

  What have I done?

  Could she somehow pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened? She ran a hand across her forehead. Her skin was hot and damp, and she wiped away the sweat with trembling fingers. The room was cool, the air conditioner working, so why was she burning up? She must be coming down with something. In which case, maybe the last few days hadn’t happened, and everything from the time Rafe returned had all been a figment of a fevered imagination.

  Yes, that’s it. I’m hallucinating. Kisses didn’t feel that good.

  Peeling her bare legs from the leather chair, she stood and wandered from the room, down the stairs, and out of the building. She hesitated, then turned and headed toward the pool.

  She kicked off her boots and tugged off her socks. For a moment she stood poised on the edge, then she closed her eyes and fell face-first into the water.

  Even the water felt warm. She wanted to sink, but rose to the surface. The clasp holding her hair in its plait came free, and long strands plastered her face and body. She swept it out of the way and blinked.

  A pair of black shoes. Right in front of her ey
es. She glared at them. It was hard trying to persuade herself they were part of the hallucination. They looked real. She prodded them with a finger—they felt real. Forcing her attention upward, she found Rafe staring down at her, a lazy smile lifting the corners of his sensual lips. She stared back, and warmth stole across her body, making the water cool by comparison.

  “Hi,” she muttered.

  “You know,” Rafe said, “most people take off their clothes when they go for a swim.”

  She scowled. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “I thought you’d left.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Obviously not.”

  “Oh.” She must be coming across as real intelligent about now.

  “I was with my grandfather.” He gestured up to one of the first-floor windows overlooking the pool. “We saw you.”

  Bugger. “You did? Both of you?”

  He nodded. “My grandfather was worried. I told him you were just cooling off, but he insisted I check to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m okay. And since you were watching, it’s probably a good idea I didn’t strip.” She pursed her lips. “Considering what happened last time.”

  He sucked in a breath.

  Gotcha.

  “By the way,” Rafe said, “I’ve told him you’ll no longer be working here.”

  Wow. This was really happening. “Please tell me you didn’t mention the baby thing.”

  “I told him you’d decided to rejoin the real world and had asked for a job in London.”

  “And he believed you?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Why not? He told me to tell you your job is here if you ever want to come back.”

  He reached out a hand to her. She looked at his long, tanned fingers, and then glanced down at herself. Even through the swirling water she could see the thin white tank top clinging to her body. Was his grandfather still watching? She ignored the hand.