The Spaniard's Kiss Read online

  The empty wine bottle probably had something to do with that.

  She hadn’t been able to eat all day. The tight knot of excitement in her belly made the idea of food impossible. Then Rafe’s assistant had phoned, told her Rafe wouldn’t be back, and she’d deflated.

  The hotel suite was luxurious. This might have been the one and only time she stayed in a place like this, so she decided to take advantage.

  She’d wallowed in a long bubble bath in the extravagant bathroom, dressed herself in one of the complimentary robes, and called room service. A bottle of wine, a tub of popcorn, and one of her favorite weepy movies.

  She should go to bed—it was after three in the morning—but that would mean clearing all the stuff away. The amount of clothing he’d bought was unbelievable, and absolutely none of it any use for the future. Slinky nightwear, flimsy underwear, even a pair of scarlet stilettos she hadn’t taken from the box, though her fingers itched to touch them.

  Did he make a habit of buying stuff like this for his friends?

  Something caught her eye. Turning her head, she stared at the black jacket stark against the crimson of the sofa. It hadn’t been there before, and her heart rate picked up. She forced herself to relax. Where was he?

  She looked around the room and couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen him immediately. He was seated on an armchair opposite her, long legs stretched out, head back against the seat, eyes closed. His glossy black hair fell over his forehead. There were hollows beneath his cheekbones, and his sensuous mouth was relaxed in sleep. Awake, there was a hardness to him, a sense of invulnerability. Now his features were softened, and she had an urge to go hug him. But Rafe wasn’t the hugging type.

  He wore a white shirt with a maroon tie, loosened at the neck, and dark pants. Her eyes lingered on the long, lean length of his body, then moved back up to his face. He was awake, his eyes gleaming behind half-closed lids.

  Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair, tousling the perfect cut. “You were dreaming about Gary. You said his name.”

  Bella shook her head, trying to clear her mind. For more than a year after Gary’s death, she’d dreamed of him most nights. Horrible dreams that she woke from to abject misery. But she didn’t feel miserable now. Her heart was racing, her mouth dry. “Really?” she said. “I don’t remember.”

  He studied her as if she wasn’t what he expected. “And you were crying,” he said after a minute’s silence. The words sounded like an accusation.

  She wiped her cheek as though she could remove the evidence. “I was watching a movie. It was sad—you know I always cry at sad movies. Anyway, I didn’t expect you tonight.”

  “My plane was delayed.”

  “I know. Your assistant phoned.”

  What was he doing here? What did he want?

  She was alone in a hotel room, in the middle of the night, with a man she had positively begged to make love to her. Well, maybe “making love” wasn’t the right term. Donate sperm? Not nice.

  A man whose hot, hungry eyes were eating her up.

  She hadn’t been deluded.

  He wants me.

  Her mind froze while her body heat rocketed, sweat prickling her skin.

  She was still hugging a cushion to her chest, and she tossed it to the sofa and rose to her feet, pulling the robe tighter around herself.

  His gaze followed the movements. “Did you miss me today?” His voice was like warm, sticky honey, and the heat concentrated low in her body.

  Whoa. What was that?

  Not part of the deal at all. She swallowed and moistened her dry lips.

  What was the right answer? Yes? No?

  He rose gracefully to his feet. Holding her breath, she waited for him to move, but he stood looking down at her. “There’s something I need to discuss with you,” he said.

  “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” An overwhelming urge swept over her. To reach out and touch him, stroke her finger along his cheek.

  Bad idea. Crazy idea.

  Crazy or not, of its own volition her hand brushed the rough skin of his jaw. He leaned into her caress, and heat licked along her nerves, coalescing at her nipples, between her thighs.

  Danger. Danger. Danger.

  Her mind screamed, but her hormones were not in agreement.

  Traitorous hormones.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced her hand to her side and shoved it into her pocket.

  No more touching.

  But she could look. For the first time, she noticed the shadows under his eyes. “You look tired.”

  “It’s been long day.”

  “Why don’t you go have a shower and get some sleep? You can stay here tonight—there’s plenty of room.”

  His eyes narrowed. “There’s only one bed.”

  “It’s a big bed.” The words sort of fell out of her mouth, and she had no clue why. Or maybe she did. She felt alive, more alive than she had since…well, since he’d kissed her that night at the pool.

  He glanced toward the bedroom door and took a step back as if to distance himself. Almost as if he were scared. The idea was so far-fetched it broke the tension, and she grinned. “Come on, Rafe, I promise your virtue is safe with me.”

  He rolled his shoulders. “A shower would be good—I feel like I’ve been traveling for days. But I’ll take the couch.” He nodded to the sofa she’d been sleeping on.

  Bella shrugged. “Your choice, but I think I can manage to restrain my lust.”

  “Maybe we should avoid the temptation,” Rafe said. “You go to bed. I just wanted to check that you were all right, and we can talk in the morning.” Then he was gone.

  Her body thrummed with tension, her skin flushed and sensitive. Lowering herself back onto the sofa, she contemplated the door where he’d disappeared and finally admitted it to herself.

  Crazy or not. She wanted him

  Would it be such a bad thing? They were both single. Who would it hurt?

  The water started running, and she chewed on her lip as she imagined Rafe in there, naked, wet, all slippery with the soap…

  …

  He dried himself after the shower and then realized he’d left his overnight bag in the other room. Wrapping a towel around his middle, he opened the door and peered out. There was no sign of movement from the bed. He silently crossed the room and into the living area. And stopped.

  Bella was perched on the edge of the sofa, still in the robe. She glanced up as he came out of the bedroom, and her eyes widened.

  “Holy crap,” she muttered, her eyes glued to his naked chest. “Okay, I lied. Maybe I can’t restrain my lust after all.”

  She rose slowly to her feet and fiddled with the end of her belt. Then she clamped her teeth on her lower lip, pulled the robe open, and pushed it off her shoulders. It slipped to the floor and left her standing before him naked.

  She was perfect, everything he remembered from that moonlit night. “Bella,” he groaned.

  Why was she doing this to him? There was a look in her eyes, half hopeful, half scared, and he realized how much courage that action had taken. Obviously she wasn’t sure of him. Which was crazy. She only had to glance down to where his dick pushed at the towel to know the effect she had on him.

  Then she did glance down, and he heard her sharp indrawn breath. She raised her head to stare into his face. “I think we should do this.”

  The simplicity of the statement was so like Bella. Always direct and honest. No subterfuge. He didn’t have the willpower to walk away.

  He’d probably been beaten the moment he’d decided to stay. Or maybe the moment he’d told his driver to bring him here. Maybe even when he’d agreed to her ludicrous proposal. It didn’t matter. A wave of inevitability washed over him.

  It was too late.

  He closed the distance between them and scooped her into his arms.

  Chapter Four

  “Ow,” Bella squeaked as he dropped her on the mattress.

  “What is it?”r />
  Instead of waiting for a reply, Rafe flipped the switch on the lamp. Warm golden light filled the room. Bella lay on the bed, naked, amid a pile of clothes, boxes, and bags. Rafe swept the whole lot onto the floor, littering the place with lace and satin, then stood back to take her in. She was beautiful, with the perfect long lines of a thoroughbred and full breasts tipped with tight pink nipples. The curls between her slender thighs were dark red to match her hair.

  A shaft of heat shot straight to his groin. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice rough with need.

  The towel was still wrapped around his waist, and he tugged at the knot and tossed it to the floor amid the rest of the clutter. Her gaze dropped to his erection, and her eyes widened.

  He came down on the mattress beside her and ran a hand along the length of her body, the swell of her breast, the smooth indentation of her waist, the jut of one hip bone.

  “I want you,” he whispered, burrowing his face against her throat, breathing in the scent of jasmine that clung to her skin. He kissed her quickly. Then a quick kiss wasn’t enough, and he parted her lips with his, pushed his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her sweetness.

  Her tongue moved tentatively against his, velvet soft, and blood pulsed in his groin.

  She was perfect, her breasts small but full, the tips dark against her golden skin. He grazed the pad of his thumb over one swollen nipple, and she moaned low in her throat.

  Unable to resist, he leaned closer and swiped his tongue over the peak, then watched it pucker and tighten. He took it between his lips and sucked, feeling her hips jerk against him.

  Needing to be over her, inside her, he dragged her into his arms and beneath him, so his shaft nudged at the entrance to her body.

  The wait was nearly over.

  With one hand, he reached for a condom from the cabinet beside the bed.

  Then remembered.

  Shit.

  No condoms.

  It was like being doused in cold water.

  Of course he had no condoms, because he never intended for this to happen. He rolled onto his back. How the hell had it happened?

  Bella pulled the edges of the sheet around herself and sat up, her expression dazed, but coming around. “What is it?”

  “We can’t do this—no condoms.”

  She placed a hand on his chest over his heart, and he fought the urge to run. “We don’t need condoms—”

  Yes, they did. Rafe just wasn’t sure how to tell her. “That thing I wanted to talk to you about? I was going to tell you I made a mistake. I should never have agreed. The whole baby thing was a terrible idea.”

  “So why am I here?” She blinked, an expression of bewilderment crossing her face, her brows drawing together. “I can’t believe this. Why didn’t you tell me earlier, like before I got on that plane yesterday?” She tugged the sheet up higher, fingers clutching the material. “But you’re right. It is a terrible idea. I’ll go back to Spain in the morning.”

  The hell she would.

  He ran a hand through his hair. Opened his mouth, closed it again. He had nothing to say that made any sense right now. Instead, he pushed himself off the bed. He had to get out of there. “I have to go. But I promise to explain tomorrow. Please don’t leave until we talk.”

  He kissed her quickly, ran a finger along her jaw, and hoped she would listen to him. At least this once.

  He turned around and strode from the room. It would have been a grand exit, except he tripped over a scarlet stiletto and nearly landed on his ass.

  “Shit! Crap, that hurt.” Still cursing loudly, he picked himself up and headed for the door.

  …

  Bella waited to hear the slam of the door as he left the hotel suite, but all was silent. Then she realized he couldn’t leave without coming back through there—his clothes were in the bathroom. But he didn’t return, and she sat hugging her knees to her chest for what seemed like an age.

  Well, that had gone well. Not.

  He’d definitely been about to give in. She might not be experienced, but he’d wanted her. It was pretty hard to hide an erection that big. Then he’d ruined it. No doubt they were back to the “friends” thing.

  She stretched out and plonked her head on the pillow, tried to wipe the memory of his touch from her mind. But it had felt so good. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed physical contact with another human being. How lonely she had been. But maybe it was for the best.

  All through her childhood, she’d never belonged anywhere. Most of her childhood had been spent at boarding schools arranged by the army. Marrying Gary and moving to the farm had been all she’d ever wanted. A place where she wouldn’t have to move on every few months or years. It hadn’t worked out like that. She’d ended up alone anyway, and now she was moving on once more. She hadn’t given up on the dream of belonging. She just wasn’t prepared to risk putting her happiness in anyone else’s hands again.

  She tossed and turned, her ears tuned for any noise from the next room. Finally, she slid off the bed and tiptoed to the doorway. The sitting room was in darkness except for the glow from the bedroom lamp filtering through the door, but she saw him easily. He was lying on the sofa in her white robe, fast asleep. His face had that slightly vulnerable look again. Dark lashes shadowed his hard cheekbones, and his stern mouth was softened, revealing the sensual lower lip.

  Warmth stole over her that had nothing to do with sex. She had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around him, tell him everything would be all right. It occurred to her that despite his family, he was just as alone as she was. But then he’d always said he was closer to Gary than he was to any of his real family.

  Why was he so adamant that he’d never marry? Presumably something to do with his family, who sounded as messed up as her own. Funny how their similar pasts had sent them in totally different directions. She was determined to get the home she’d never had, while he swore he’d never settle down.

  Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze from his still form and returned to the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. There was no lock, but she didn’t think Rafe would be back.

  Crawling under the covers, she curled into a ball and eventually fell into a restless sleep.

  …

  Rafe awoke to the disturbing feeling there was something not quite right with his world. Daylight was just beginning to filter through the curtains. He glanced at his watch; it was before six, and he groaned and sat up slowly.

  He had a crick in his neck and was cuddling a scarlet cushion to his chest and wearing a fluffy white robe.

  The fabric smelled of Bella.

  And the whole fiasco came back to him. He glanced over at the bedroom door, but it was firmly closed.

  Shit.

  He’d made a total fuckup of last night. He put it down to exhaustion and incipient madness caused by her naked body. Control and good intentions flew out the window when confronted by a naked Bella. He was only human.

  The bewilderment in her eyes killed him.

  Massaging his scalp, he tried to imagine her on a plane returning to Spain that very morning. His gut tightened. No. He wouldn’t allow it. If she went back now, what would she get up to? And whom would she get up to it with?

  Anyone other than him just wasn’t an option.

  No, he had a duty to keep her out of trouble, and that meant keeping an eye on her for the foreseeable future.

  But he didn’t want to take advantage of her, and he didn’t trust himself. From now on, he’d steer clear of any situations where a full set of clothes wasn’t an absolute necessity.

  How do I get things back on track?

  He had to offer some gesture to reassure her that he wasn’t just out for a quick shag.

  The contract.

  Get the whole thing down in writing. Convince her he meant business. Then she’d have to believe his sincerity. Maybe.

  His jacket was still over the back of the sofa, and he reached into the pocket and pulled out
his cell phone. He punched in a number and waited for the sleepy reply.

  “John, I want you to draw up the papers.”

  “What papers?”

  “The baby papers we talked about. I want them in my office by ten this morning to go over.”

  He switched off before he had to listen to John’s arguments again. They were valid only if he had any intention of going through with the baby deal.

  And that couldn’t happen.

  Some of his tension drained away. He stood and stretched, then headed to the bedroom.

  Bella lay in the center of the bed completely covered, only her dark red hair showing against the white pillow. He tiptoed to the bathroom, found his pants and shirt, and pulled them on, then returned to the bedroom. He wanted to get this conversation over with and get his plan back on course.

  He sank onto the bed and touched her lightly on the shoulder, or where he presumed her shoulder would be under the covers. She snuggled down, murmuring something. If she called out another man’s name now, he might explode. He took a deep breath and shook her this time.

  Her head rose from the pillow, and she smothered a yawn with her hand. “Is it time to go to the airport?”

  “You’re not going to the airport.”

  Her arched brows drew together. “I’m not?”

  “We have a meeting with my lawyer at eleven.”

  “We do?”

  “At my office. I’ll send a car. Don’t be late.”

  He wasn’t certain she was fully awake, but he would send her PA to make sure she showed up. It was better this way—he wouldn’t give her a chance to talk about returning to Spain.

  For now, he’d go along with her crazy baby plan and hope he could convince her there were other things in life than a home and a family. He’d clear his schedule and take some time off. Maybe they could travel. He’d show her Paris and Rome, anywhere she wanted to go.

  He’d keep his hands and his mouth to himself from now on. Be her friend. He could do this. All he had to do was stay out of hotel rooms.

  She blinked at him sleepily, her long hair rumpled, her mouth sweet. He swayed toward her, longing to kiss those soft pink lips, and had to pull himself up short.