The Spaniard's Kiss Read online

  This way was better. They could be friends—all he had to do was make sure he wasn’t alone with her. Shouldn’t be too hard. By the time the three months was done, she’d be over this baby business. All he had to do was show her how exciting her life could be.

  As he approached, she turned to face him. “Does it bother you that your friend thinks I’m a money-grubbing man-eater?”

  “No.” He crossed the room and sank onto the sofa, pulled off his tie, and opened the top button of his shirt. He stifled a yawn. He’d been tense, on edge, in no way sure how this would go. Now he could relax.

  He’d thought he’d known Bella well, but he was seeing a new side to her. She’d given John as good as she got. And John had liked her for it despite his obvious better judgment. “John’s just wary. He doesn’t know you. And he has my best interests at heart.”

  “Well, that’s what friends are for. So what now? Am I in the way? I can take myself off if you need to get back to work.”

  “No, I’ve had Pete cancel my appointments for the rest of the day.”

  “You have?” She cocked her head to one side and studied him. “We could go back to the hotel and have some lunch. I’m starving.”

  His mind immediately conjured up an image of the big four-poster bed. Lobster and champagne. Bella naked…

  “No, I’ll take you out for lunch,” he said.

  Shit. He was crap at this friend thing.

  Chapter Six

  Rafe had that slightly panicked look again.

  What did he think she was suggesting? Room service in bed? And even if she was, which she wasn’t, why should the idea send him into a tizzy? All he had to do was say no.

  “I’m really not dressed for eating out.” She kept her tone casual and waved a hand over her jeans and T-shirt. “The hotel would be better.” She considered him for a moment. That little telltale tic was jumping in his cheek again. And something occurred to her. He really was serious about the friendship thing, but he was finding it hard to stick to. Some perverse little devil made her tease him just to see his reaction. “We could get room service.”

  He pressed a finger to his forehead, and she held her breath. Yes or no? “I don’t think so,” he said, and she exhaled loudly.

  This whole setup was doing her head in. Now she was flirting with Rafe. That hadn’t been part of the deal. But it was his fault. All this hot-cold-hot was messing with her. She’d never considered she would actually get pleasure from the deal, that she would actually want Rafe that way, but last night had proved how delusional that was. Part of her wished she could remain detached, because it felt like she was crossing a line, but she couldn’t deny the underlying excitement.

  “No,” he continued, “a restaurant to celebrate our agreement. So what would you like?”

  Well, if she wasn’t going to get Rafe served up on a plate, she knew exactly what she wanted. “Pizza.”

  “Pizza?” He sounded as though he’d never heard of it. Then he nodded. “Pizza—why not?”

  Rafe rose slowly to his feet, stretched like a lazy jungle animal, then ran his gaze down the length of her and smiled. “But perhaps you should put some shoes on first, querida. And don’t forget your contract.”

  That was another thing—if he was determined that they remain friends for the foreseeable future, perhaps she should tell him to stop calling her querida in that hot, sexy voice. It did weird things to her insides.

  The outer office was empty, but as they crossed the room, the elevator doors opened and a woman stepped out. Rafe tensed and came to a halt. He swore in Spanish under his breath. So not totally happy to see whoever it was. Bella regarded the woman curiously.

  Glamorous and sophisticated—no doubt this was a prime example of Rafe’s “usual” women. An old flame? Or a current one, and Rafe was upset because he didn’t want their paths to cross? She hadn’t thought to check whether he was in a relationship—but surely he would have told her.

  The woman was tall, with striking bone structure, blond hair swept up in an elegant chignon, dark blue eyes, and perfect makeup. She was dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that made her look both businesslike and sexy at the same time. It also gave her the appearance of maturity, but when Bella studied her more closely she realized the woman couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty.

  Cradle-snatcher! Bella gave a sideways peek at Rafe. Whoever this girl was, he didn’t look pleased to see her.

  “Gina,” he muttered. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The woman cast Bella a curious glance, ignored Rafe’s question, strolled over, and kissed him on the cheek. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

  “No.”

  “But Rafael, you told me you would take me more seriously if I acted more seriously.” She gestured down at her business suit. “Don’t you think I look the part?”

  “The part of what, exactly? What do you want, Gina?”

  “A job, of course.” She glanced from Rafe to Bella as if suddenly realizing he wasn’t alone and raised an eyebrow, her expression cooling visibly. “Who’s this?”

  She might as well have said what’s this, from the disdain in her tone. When Rafe didn’t answer immediately, Bella glanced at him. For the first time ever, he appeared discomforted.

  She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Not quite. Okay, she admitted to herself—not at all.

  The look the girl was giving her was far from complimentary, as though Bella were something the cat had dragged in, chewed up, and then spat out again. If she’d been more sensitive it might have hurt. Even so, a small part wished she had just a little of this young woman’s poise. Next to these two glamorous people she felt less than adequate, and she hated that.

  She shouldn’t give a damn what Rafe’s other, hopefully-ex-girlfriend thought of her.

  But she did care, and the realization stirred her temper. Bella inched a step closer to him, rested her fingers on his arm, and smiled sweetly.

  “Hi there, I’m Bella, I’m Rafe’s…” She shrugged as the correct term eluded her, then glanced at the contract she still held in her hand. “We’re going to have a baby together.”

  As soon as the words were out, she couldn’t believe she’d said them.

  Two sets of dark blue eyes gazed at her in disbelief, and then a torrent of Italian burst from the girl. Rafe replied in equally irate Italian, and for a minute the two were engrossed in each other. Bella peeked at the door and wondered whether she could sneak out without them noticing. Rafe turned briefly her way and cast her a narrow-eyed glance that said, don’t you dare. Just to make sure, he grabbed her hand and held on to it as the argument continued. Bella wished she understood, but while she spoke a few words of Italian, this was way too fast.

  “Shut up, Gina.” Rafe raised his other hand and made a cutting movement. He turned to Bella, and his fingers tightened on hers almost painfully. “Bella, allow me to introduce you to my sister, Giovanna Santini.”

  His sister?

  Oh Lord, what had she done? She’d forgotten he even had a sister.

  She licked her dry lips and gave a casual shrug. “Um, er…hello. That last thing I said…I didn’t mean…I don’t suppose you would consider…forgetting it?”

  “Don’t say any more, querida.” Rafe’s tone was gentle, but she could hear the frustration beneath the softly spoken words. He turned back to his sister. “Gina, this is Isabel Sinclair, a friend of mine. And no, she is not carrying my baby.”

  Some devil of mischief had the word “yet” hovering on the tip of Bella’s tongue. Thankfully, she managed to swallow it.

  “But—” Gina began. Rafe gave her a look that would have cut Bella off in midflow, and Gina clamped her lips closed.

  “Madre de dios. Go, I’ll talk to you later,” Rafe ordered.

  Suddenly, Gina looked very young. She turned and stomped toward the elevator. But as she waited for the doors to open, her shoulders stiffened and she whirled around, her eyes narrowing. “Just wait until I te
ll Mother about this.”

  As a parting line, it was brilliant. Rafe didn’t seem quite so impressed. He pressed his fingers to his eyes as the doors slid shut behind her.

  “Your sister seems nice.”

  Rafe gave her a long look, and she squirmed.

  “Okay, I’m sorry.” Bella kept her voice meek though it was a struggle; she’d never been good at apologizing for her misbehavior, even when she knew she was in the wrong. “I thought she was your girlfriend.”

  “Why the hell would you think that?”

  “Because she’s gorgeous and glamorous and apparently that’s what all your girlfriends are like. Except me.” She stared at the polished floor for a second, then back at Rafe. “Will she tell anyone?”

  “Everyone, I would think. She’ll probably put an announcement in the Times as well.”

  “Have I caused you a lot of trouble?”

  “Endless.” He ran a hand through his hair, and suddenly the hard lines of his handsome face relaxed, and he chuckled. “It was almost worth it for the look on Gina’s face. Dios.”

  Bella sighed. “I don’t normally blurt things out like that. I guess you must be a bad influence.”

  “I hope so. One thing…?”

  She looked up at his silkily spoken words and glanced at him warily. “Yes?”

  “Why would you tell my girlfriend that we were having a baby?” He studied her closely. “Were you jealous, querida?”

  “In your dreams.”

  Jealous? Surely not. But a cold, hard lump congealed in her middle.

  He still had hold of her hand. Now he tugged her toward the elevator where his sister had disappeared only minutes earlier. After pressing the button, he leaned one shoulder against the wall as he surveyed her. She tried to keep her attention on the vee of golden skin at his throat, but couldn’t resist a peek at his face. His earlier irritation seemed to have vanished completely, to be replaced by a look of sleepy satisfaction that sent a ripple of anticipation running through her. She had the distinct idea that he didn’t believe she wasn’t jealous. Followed by the notion that her jealousy wasn’t entirely repugnant to him. Talk about mixed signals.

  He smiled. “And now—I’m getting hungry.”

  Bella was starving. But she wasn’t sure pizza was going to fix that.

  He took her to a small Italian bistro. She suspected it was more expensive than it appeared; the other diners all looked well-bred and well-dressed with that air only serious money conveys. But it was quaint, with low wooden beams and checked tablecloths, the air redolent with the scent of herbs and fresh bread.

  The hostess didn’t blink an eye at Bella’s jeans, just led them to a small corner table with a single red rose in a crystal vase.

  “What can I get you to drink?” she asked.

  Rafe answered. “Champagne—Bollinger 2002.”

  Bella waited until the woman had disappeared. “I take it that’s a good year. But I’ve got to warn you, it will be wasted on me—I’m used to my own stuff.” The farm had a small vineyard, and they’d always made their own wine.

  “You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

  They both ordered pizza, and Bella relaxed as the waiter expertly opened the wine. She sipped the pale liquid, feeling the bubbles all the way down in her stomach. “I really am sorry about what I said to your sister. Even if she had been your girlfriend, I shouldn’t have told her that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” he agreed. “But it’s done. Let’s forget it until we get the fallout.”

  She was happy to, but couldn’t totally dismiss her guilt. “Usually, I’m quite happy with how I am, but she made me feel…”

  He quirked a brow and she forced herself to continue.

  “…inadequate, scruffy…a mess.”

  He ran his gaze over her, making her squirm in the seat. She picked up her glass and took a healthy slug, and nearly choked.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, taking a sip of his wine and continuing to study her over the rim of his glass. “But I’m sure a lot of people must have told you that.”

  Aw, he thought she was beautiful. Her stomach fluttered, and warmth stole over her. “Only Gary. And he was biased.”

  “He had good taste.”

  “Maybe. As I said, normally it doesn’t bother me but you’re always so—” She broke off again and considered him for a minute. He was so smooth, so groomed, not a hair out of place. She could never stay that tidy for more than five minutes at a time. “Do you mind if I do something?”

  A wary expression crept into his eyes. “What?”

  …

  Rafe held his breath as she put down her glass. He never knew what Bella would do. She reached across the table and raked her hand through his hair. The stroke of her fingers against his scalp sent prickles of awareness shooting down his spine to settle in his dick. He swallowed but didn’t move. At least his reaction was hidden beneath the table.

  It felt good to relax his guard. After all, what could happen in here? He could hardly lose control and take her on the table amid the other diners.

  Now she was sitting back, a satisfied smirk on her face.

  He cleared his throat. “What was that for?”

  “I just wanted to make you a little less perfect.”

  Shock hit him at her words. Was that how she saw him? “I’m far from perfect.”

  “Come on, Rafe, you always look impeccable.”

  He considered her words and the irony that she should see him as perfect, when in fact he was fundamentally flawed. People only ever saw what was on the surface.

  These days, he rarely thought about how he looked or what he wore. “My mother was something of a perfectionist. I suppose I wanted to please her, and it saved being nagged if I got it right first time. Now it’s just become a habit.”

  “Really? My dad was the same.” She grinned. “It didn’t stick with me. Though I suspect I maybe went the other way just to annoy him.”

  “He was in the army, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, a sergeant. Gary’s father was his commanding officer. That’s how I met Gary. My mum and dad divorced when I wasn’t much more than a baby. But Mum died when I was eight, and I went back to live with my dad.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She’d lost everyone. Mother, father, husband, and baby. Was it so strange that she wanted this baby? Someone of her own. Guilt prodded him in the gut. Maybe he was wrong to lie to her, however much he’d convinced himself it was for her own good. He also suspected there was a whole load of self-deception going on inside his head. But he didn’t want to think about that, and he wasn’t ready to let her go. Would he ever be?

  The food arrived then, and they were silent for a few minutes. Bella ate her pizza with gusto, as she did everything. He watched with fascination as she licked tomato sauce from her fingers.

  “Have you spoken with your grandfather recently?” she asked.

  He let out a sigh of relief—a safe subject. “Yes. He’s good—much better. He’s a tough old man. I wish I could persuade him to move to London, but he loves his home.”

  “And you hate it. Why? I’ve always wondered.”

  He sipped his wine while he thought about his answer. “I always blamed the place for taking my father away from us. One of the things I remember most about him was wanting us all to return to Spain. My mother wouldn’t consider it. She loved city life. In the end, I guess he loved the place more than he loved us.”

  “I don’t believe that. There must have been something else going on.”

  She was so perceptive, but she was also venturing onto dangerous ground. “It turned out there were other reasons, but I didn’t know that at the time.”

  She opened her mouth, no doubt to ask what the other reasons were, and he cut her off.

  “Back then, the place was very different. This was before I had the villa built. Grandfather lived in a cottage, no water, no electricity”—he gave a visible shudder—“no telephone.”

 
She laughed. “It can’t have been that bad.”

  “After living in London and New York, it was like being plunged into the Middle Ages. It was hell. If I was ever bad as a child, my mother would threaten to send me to live out there. Gary was the only one who made those visits bearable. He loved the mountains—turned the whole thing into an adventure.”

  “Yeah, he was full of the place whenever he got back. I was always so jealous.”

  “London is better. I’ll show you London. And Paris and Rome.”

  “You will? I thought you were ‘a busy man.’”

  “Well, I think I can take a couple of days off. In the last few years the only days I’ve had free were when I visited Spain.”

  “Why? You’re the boss—surely you could delegate?”

  “Not so much. I took over the company when my stepfather became ill. It was a tough time. My mother doesn’t take illness very well—so I wanted things to go smoothly. Also a lot of people felt I was too young—so I had something to prove.”

  “Sally said you did a fantastic job.”

  Rafe waved away the comment, but a smile tugged at his lips. “We’ve come through it okay.”

  “Always so modest. So we have the weekend. I’d love to go on the Eye. And ride on a double-decker bus, and go to the zoo. The rest is up to you.” She started on a second piece of pizza.

  “How are you for money?” he asked. “If you need any, you’ll let me know?”

  “Money?”

  She sounded as though she didn’t know what the stuff was. “I should have mentioned it earlier. It never occurred to me—I presumed Gary would have left you better off.”

  “Gary didn’t have any money. He was due to come into a trust fund when he was thirty, but he died before that.” She tilted her head and considered him for a few seconds. “Anyway, I don’t want your money.”

  “Why?”

  “Taking money from you would be weird.” Her brows drew together as she thought about her answer. “I’m still trying to reconcile myself to accepting your money if I have your baby. But if I took it now, I’d be like your mistress but without the sex part.”

  She took another bite of pizza. This time her tongue swiped tomato sauce from her lower lip. He wished she hadn’t mentioned sex. But now that she had, he couldn’t leave it alone. “You want sex?” He was pleased his voice sounded normal.