Hot Nights with a Spaniard: Bedded for the Spaniard's Pleasure / Spanish Aristocrat, Forced Bride / Spanish Magnate, Red-Hot Revenge

CHAPTER TEN

‘HE’s absolutely gorgeous, Margo!’ Cairo told her sister warmly as she stood up to hand baby Simon back into his mother’s arms.

They had left the villa and the South of France without further incident, arriving back in England in the early evening, with a car waiting there for them. Rafe had driven them all to the clinic to visit Margo. The proud father was there, too, of course, Jeff looking and sounding much more relaxed now that the danger was over for both Margo and the baby.

It certainly wasn’t the time for Cairo to remonstrate with either of them for failing to tell her of Rafe’s ownership of the villa and his subsequent surprise arrival!

Rafe had brought in Daisy’s small suitcase so that the little girl could return home with her father, leaving Cairo with the uncomfortable feeling he was going to insist on driving her to her flat. A feeling that was confirmed a short time later as he took his leave of Margo and Jeff at the same time as Cairo did, his hand firmly on her elbow as they walked down the carpeted corridor together.

‘I’m sure you have somewhere else to go, Rafe, so—’

‘Don’t even think about trying to get rid of me just yet,’ Rafe warned softly as he pushed the door open for her to go outside into the early evening sunshine. ‘In fact, why don’t the two of us go out to dinner? You weren’t expecting to be back in England for several more days, so you won’t have anything in your apartment for us to eat,’ he reasoned.

Cairo frowned up at him as he unlocked the doors of the sporty black car. ‘Despite what you seem to have assumed to the contrary, it was never my intention to have dinner with you this evening, either at my flat or anywhere else!’

He gave a mocking smile as he opened her door for her. ‘That isn’t very friendly of you, Cairo, after I’ve gone to the trouble of transporting you back to England so quickly and efficiently.’

‘It wasn’t just me, Rafe, you also transported yourself and Daisy back….’

‘Ah, but as you pointed out earlier today, I really needed to stay in Cannes. I don’t even have a hotel reservation for tonight yet …’ He quirked dark brows at her.

Cairo glared at him. ‘That’s your problem, Rafe, not mine.’

‘I’m sure you could make it yours, too, if you really wanted to….’

She stared at him in disbelief. Was Rafe actually flirting with her? It certainly seemed as if he was!

‘But I really don’t want to,’ Cairo told him dryly. ‘So could you either give me my suitcase from the boot of the car so that I can get a taxi home, or drive me there yourself?’

‘I’m driving you there myself, of course,’ Rafe stated.

Cairo continued to eye him suspiciously as she slid into the passenger seat, not trusting him in this mood at all.

But what could he do, really? She didn’t even have to invite him into her flat if—

There was no ‘if’ about it—she wasn’t going to invite Rafe into her flat at all!

‘Very nice,’ Rafe murmured approvingly as he stood in the hallway looking at the simplicity of the sitting-room in Cairo’s apartment, liking the cream carpet and terracotta-coloured suite, the paintings on the walls all bright and cheerful, too.

Cairo stood firmly in the doorway blocking his entrance to the room. ‘Okay, Rafe, you’ve delivered my suitcase, as you insisted on doing,’ she bit out, still irritated that she had lost that particular argument. ‘Now it’s time for you to leave.’

He put the case down. ‘You could show your gratitude by offering me a glass of wine….’

Her foot tapped impatiently. ‘I was quite capable of carrying my own suitcase!’

‘I’m sure you’re quite capable of doing most things yourself, Cairo, but my father brought me up to be a Spanish gentleman. And carrying a lady’s bags for her is one of the things a Spanish gentleman does.’

Cairo wasn’t fooled for a moment by this explanation; Rafe had been determined to wangle an invitation into her flat from the start. She just wasn’t sure why….

‘Very well.’ She sighed heavily. ‘Would you care for a glass of wine, Rafe?’

‘How kind of you to offer, Cairo,’ he accepted sarcastically, before stepping past her into the sitting-room.

Leaving Cairo no choice but to follow him! ‘Red or white?’ she offered, more than a touch disgruntled.

‘Red would be fine, thanks. Have you lived here for very long?’ he asked as he made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs.

‘Six months or so,’ Cairo answered distractedly as she took a bottle of red wine from the rack and uncorked it before pouring some of the wine into two glasses. ‘Here.’ She thrust one under Rafe’s nose.

Blue eyes glinted with mockery as he looked up at her before taking the glass, his fingers lightly brushing against hers as he did so….

Cairo made no effort to sit down herself but instead walked over to look out of the window high above the London skyline as she slowly sipped her own wine, all the time aware of that intense blue gaze on the rigidity of her back.

‘For goodness’ sake, relax, Cairo.’ Rafe finally sighed into the tense silence.

How was she supposed to do that when Rafe was in her flat?

This was her space, the first place she could completely call her own for over eight years. And Rafe’s presence was a definite intrusion on that solitude.

‘Nice view.’

Cairo almost dropped her glass of wine at the close proximity of Rafe’s voice, turning to glare at him as he stood beside her, his tread having been so soft on the carpet she hadn’t realized he had joined her in front of the window. ‘I like it,’ she snapped irritably.

‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be drinking on a relatively empty stomach,’ Rafe commented; Cairo hadn’t eaten any breakfast at all, and only a sandwich for lunch.

‘The wine was your idea—’

‘For you to offer me a glass,’ he corrected. ‘You know what happens if you drink wine and you haven’t had enough to eat,’ he reminded her huskily.

‘I know what happened once, Rafe. Just once,’ she reiterated firmly, the blush on her cheeks telling him she remembered the incident only too well.

‘Hmm.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ she challenged.

Rafe had forgotten what fun it was to tease Cairo. How she got that light of battle in her eyes. The angry blush to her cheeks. Her mouth set in that stubborn line.

He took the remaining half-glass of wine from her fingers and placed it on a bookshelf with his own. ‘Come out to dinner with me tonight, Cairo,’ he invited gruffly.

She blinked up at him uncertainly. ‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’ she breathed huskily, but with much less conviction in her voice.

Rafe held her gaze with his as he gave her a quizzical smile. ‘Because I’m a stranger in town—’

‘You’re Rafe Montero—you could ask any woman to have dinner with you and she would drop anything else she had planned just to be there!’

‘The one I’m asking right now doesn’t have anything else planned—and yet she’s refusing.’

‘Rafe—’

‘Cairo?’

‘You really are—’ She broke off frustratedly. ‘Why do you want me to have dinner with you?’

He shrugged. ‘Because we both have to eat this evening and we may as well do it together.’

She shook her head. ‘If you think, because of what happened last night, that I’m going to sleep with you later, then—’

‘Cairo, the invitation was for dinner, not bed,’ he cut in firmly.

‘Yes …’ She eyed him suspiciously.

‘Although I doubt I would be averse to the idea later on if you were to—’

‘I won’t!’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Then I guess I’ll settle for dinner.’

She sighed. ‘Okay, Rafe, I’ll come out to dinner with you. But only,’ she continued as he would have smiled, ‘if you promise me never to mention that embarrassing incident with the wine ever again.’

‘You mean, the incident where you threw off all your clothes and—’

‘Yes—that incident!’ she glared.

‘Fine.’ It was difficult for Rafe to hold the smile back this time. ‘I promise I’ll never—ever—mention that night we had dinner in my hotel room eight years ago and you stripped off and tipped cream all over your—well, all over you—and then offered yourself as dessert—’ He broke off, laughing now when Cairo began to pummel his chest with her fists, and was still grinning even as he held both her hands in his. ‘It was the best dessert I ever had,’ he told her throatily.

It was very hard to remain annoyed with him when he gave her that heart-melting smile, Cairo thought in despair. Especially when she also remembered the night in question—how could she ever forget it? It was the most wildly erotic night….

Which meant it also wasn’t a good idea to let Rafe continue to hold her hands in his. Or to look into those sky-blue eyes that seduced her with only a glance. Or to allow him to draw her, slowly, purposefully, towards him—

‘No, Rafe!’ She broke that seductive spell as she straightened away from him, pulling her hands out of his grasp as she did so. ‘I said dinner and I meant just dinner!’

‘Pity,’ he murmured lazily.

She gave him a reproving look. ‘If you would like to sit here and finish your wine, I just need to go to my room to freshen up before we go out.’

Although she’d agreed to the lesser of two evils—going out to a restaurant with Rafe rather than having him stay on here—it still wasn’t a good idea, Cairo told herself as she shut her bedroom door firmly behind her and leant back against it.

What game was Rafe playing now?

Whatever it was, she couldn’t allow it to continue!

‘How on earth did you manage to get a table here at such short notice— No, don’t tell me.’ Cairo gave a wry smile. ‘You’re Rafe Montero.’

Rafe studied her across the table in what was a very exclusive London restaurant. ‘I really wish you wouldn’t say my name as if it’s some sort of expletive,’ he drawled ruefully. ‘Besides,’ he continued lightly, ‘there has to be some compensation to losing every vestige of your privacy just because you chose acting as a career.’

Cairo gave him a considering look, coolly beautiful in the green figure-hugging, knee-length dress she had changed into after freshening-up, her red hair long and silky. ‘I never realized it bothered you.’

He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t a problem when we were on the Isle of Man. Since the film studio opened up there in the late nineties the islanders have become used to celebrities walking down Strand Street, and they pretty well take it in their stride. Most other places it can be a problem, though. That’s the reason exclusive restaurants like this one are so popular with people like you and me. Everyone’s a celebrity, so no one stares.’

No, Cairo acknowledged, no one was staring. Now. But the two of them had caused quite a stir when they’d arrived together half an hour ago, probably because of all the publicity about them in the English newspapers this morning….

Rafe gave her a quizzical glance. ‘Do you ever regret becoming so well known?’

Did she? She could quite well have done without all the publicity that had surrounded her separation and divorce the last ten months. But otherwise …? No, probably not.

‘It goes with the job, I suppose,’ she said, before taking a sip of the pink champagne Rafe had ordered. A drink he had first introduced her to on the Isle of Man …

‘And do you enjoy the job as much as you thought you would?’

‘Sorry?’ It was impossible for Cairo to miss the slight edge that had entered his tone.

Rafe shrugged. ‘When you were twenty, you were pretty determined to make a name for yourself. At any price, apparently,’ he added bitterly.

She put her champagne glass carefully back down on the table. ‘Rafe, if you’re going to start being insulting again, then I shall have to leave.’

‘I’ve always assumed your ambition was the reason you married Bond so quickly and moved to the States with him.’ He sat back in his chair, his gaze hooded as he looked across the table at her. ‘Although I still have no idea why you agreed to talk to him when he came to the villa …’ he added speculatively.

Cairo’s mouth tightened. ‘Rafe, you either desist in pursuing this subject or I will leave!’

‘I’m just interested, Cairo,’ he said. ‘After all, we have to talk about something while we eat,’ he added lightly as their first course was brought to the table.

Cairo waited until the waiter had left before answering Rafe. ‘I do not want to talk about Lionel. Not his visit to the villa yesterday or anything to do with my marriage and divorce.’ Unless Rafe wanted her to end up with indigestion! ‘Why don’t we discuss why it is you’ve never married, instead?’ she added challengingly as she picked up her fork and began to eat her prawns.

Rafe smiled. ‘I already told you, that’s much less interesting.’

‘Because you’ve never met the right woman,’ Cairo taunted. ‘And do you really believe that there’s a right woman or right man for everyone?’

‘Don’t you?’ Rafe had believed at one time that he had found the right woman for him. But, as it had turned out, he obviously hadn’t been the right man for her….

Cairo shook her head. ‘I think it’s probably wiser—safer—to opt to be with someone of a similar background, career and interests.’

‘Like you and Bond, you mean?’

Colour warmed her cheeks. ‘Rafe—’

‘Or you and me,’ he added softly.

No, not like her and Rafe! As Cairo had learnt to her cost, she and Rafe had ultimately had absolutely nothing in common. Except a physical awareness that Cairo could feel even now….

Because no matter how she might try to deny it—to ignore it!—last night had only increased her awareness of everything about Rafe, from the silky glossiness of his hair down to the slender elegance of his feet.

She put her fork back down on her plate, her appetite having completely deserted her. ‘No, not like you and me,’ she denied huskily. ‘I think it’s time that I left, Rafe—’

‘Run away, you mean?’ he bit out caustically.

Her eyes flashed darkly. ‘I’m not running away.’

‘Sure you are. It’s what you do—it’s what you’ve always done,’ he said grimly.

Her throat tightened painfully. ‘I should have known your earlier pleasantness wouldn’t last.’

‘Because you obviously prefer a man with no ba—’

‘How dare you?’ Cairo gasped.

‘How dare I?’ Rafe repeated harshly. ‘Oh, I think you’ll find that where you’re concerned I dare to do a lot of things— No, Cairo!’ He sat forward to place his hand firmly over hers as she went to pick up her evening bag from the table before leaving. ‘If you leave now, the headlines in tomorrow’s newspapers are going to read, “Cairo and Rafe split up after only two days together”.’

‘We’ve never been together—’

‘I remember a time when we were very together,’ he growled.

‘I—’

‘Don’t even think about denying what we once had, Cairo,’ he warned.

‘What I thought we had,’ she corrected tightly.

‘I thought we had it, too,’ he rasped. ‘You must have realized this last two days that I still want you—’

‘Rafe, please don’t—’

‘And you still want me,’ he added softly.

‘I most certainly do not!’ Her face blushed revealingly even as she spoke the lie. For how could Rafe ever doubt that she still wanted him after their lovemaking last night?

His mouth twisted humourlessly. ‘Don’t make me prove it, Cairo.’

The passionate heat in the blue of his eyes held her captive, the tension between them unbearable. She was barely breathing. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Was held in the glitter of that blue gaze like a fawn mesmerized by the headlights of an approaching car.

Because, amazingly, Rafe was approaching her! Completely unconcerned with their surroundings, and the other diners, he stood up, reached across the table and curved a hand beneath her chin to tilt her face up to his and place his mouth forcefully down on hers.