Forbidden Seductions
Thankfully, he was dressed now. Albeit in khaki cargo shorts and a tight-fitting black T-shirt that exposed taut muscles and a wedge of brown flesh at his waist.
Which seemed far too casual to her way of thinking. It was easier to keep him at arm’s length in a formal suit and tie.
He had evidently heard their voices and come to investigate. The acoustics in the foyer must have allowed the sound to circulate around the ground-floor rooms. Cleo realised belatedly that she should have thought of that.
However, the maid turned towards him with evident enthusiasm. ‘Ms Novak was just lookin’ for Mr Jacob, sir,’ she said, sashaying towards him, hips swinging, arms akimbo. ‘You want more coffee, Mr Dominic? You do, just say the word and Susie’ll get it for you.’
Dominic’s lips tightened as he saw Cleo’s reaction to the implied intimacy of the girl’s words, and there was an edge to his voice when he said, ‘You can get Ms Novak some breakfast instead. Fruit, cereal, rolls, coffee.’ He arched his brows at Cleo. ‘Does that about cover it?’
‘I…’ Cleo had hardly heard what he’d said and now she struggled to answer him. ‘I—I guess so,’ she muttered. ‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’ Dominic turned once more to the maid. ‘On the terrace, Susie. As quick as you can, right?’
Susie pursed sulky lips, but she knew better than to argue that it wasn’t her job to serve meals when she’d already offered to get him fresh coffee.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said tersely, her hands dropping to her sides as she marched away, and Cleo hoped she hadn’t made another enemy.
Meanwhile, Dominic was trying to master his own frustration. Dammit, Cleo probably thought he exercised some medieval droit de seigneur over the female members of the household staff and it irritated the hell out of him.
Not that it mattered what Cleo thought, he reminded himself.
Only it did.
‘Did you sleep well?’
Dominic gestured for her to come and join him and, although she would have preferred to make her own way, Cleo had little choice but to obey him.
‘Very well,’ she responded, making sure she didn’t brush against him as she preceded him into the room behind him. ‘I’m sorry if your grandfather expected me to join him yesterday evening, but I’m afraid I just flaked out.’
‘I know.’
Dominic was far too sure of himself, and Cleo gave him a wary look.
‘You know?’
‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘Serena had one of the maids check up on you.’ He grimaced. ‘You could have fallen asleep in the bath. We wouldn’t want you to drown yourself before you had a chance to get to know us.’
Cleo pressed her lips together. ‘I wasn’t likely to do that,’ she said, but Dominic only gave her a wry smile.
‘All the same…’ he murmured lightly. ‘The old man would never have forgiven himself if anything had happened to you.’
‘Just the old man?’ Cleo found herself saying provocatively, and saw the way Dominic’s expression darkened.
‘Don’t play games with me, Cleo,’ he said warningly. ‘You’re not equipped to deal with the fallout.’
Cleo’s lips parted, but she didn’t say anything more. Her face flaming, she turned away, grateful to transfer her attention to less disquieting subjects.
But he was right, she thought. She wasn’t used to provoking anyone, least of all a man who always seemed to bring out the worst—or was it the bitch?—in her.
It was quite a relief to study her surroundings.
Darkly upholstered sofas and chairs stood out in elegant contrast to the backdrop of pale walls and even paler wooden floors.
Long windows, some of them open to admit the delicious breeze off the ocean, boasted filmy drapes that moved seductively in the morning air.
‘We’ll go outside,’ said Dominic after a moment, and Cleo realised he had crossed the room and was now standing by French doors that opened onto a stone terrace.
She followed, as slowly as she dared, taking in the exquisite appointments of the room. Low tables; cut-glass vases filled with flowers; thick candles in chunky silver holders.
There was even a grand piano, its lid lifted, hidden away in one corner of the enormous apartment. And dramatic oil paintings in vivid colours that added their own particular beauty to the walls.
‘You have a beautiful home,’ she said a little stiffly, wanting to restore some semblance of normality, but Dominic’s lips only twisted rather mockingly at her words.
‘It’s not my home,’ he reminded her carelessly, stepping aside to let her pass him. ‘But I’m sure your grandfather is hoping you’ll make it yours.’
Cleo’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re not serious!’
‘What about?’ Dominic ignored her startled expression. ‘I assure you, I do have my own house a couple of miles from here on Pelican Bay.’
‘No—’ Cleo was almost sure he was deliberately misunderstanding her ‘—that’s not what I meant.’
They’d emerged onto the terrace now and Cleo could see where a tumble of pink and white bougainvillea hid the low wall that separated the paved patio from the pool.
She was briefly silenced by the view. By the pool, shimmering invitingly; by the rampant vegetation and flowering trees that surrounded it; by the ever-constant movement of the ocean beyond the rolling dunes.
Aware of Dominic’s silence, she turned to him and said, ‘About my grandfather—he doesn’t really expect me to stay here, does he?’
Dominic shrugged, his compassion reluctantly stirred by her obvious confusion. ‘It’s what he wants,’ he said simply. ‘I think he’s hoping to make up for all those years when he didn’t know you.’
Cleo chewed on her lower lip. ‘But why now?’
Dominic sauntered towards a circular table set in the shade of a brown and cream striped canopy. Then, picking up his coffee, he glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘Why do you think?’
Cleo groped for a convincing answer. ‘Because he’s ill?’
‘Because he’s dying,’ Dominic amended flatly. ‘Because he’s been forced to face the fact of his own mortality.’ He paused. ‘According to his lawyer, he’s been looking for you for some time.’
Cleo frowned. ‘And did—did my mother and father know this?’
‘The Novaks?’ Dominic shrugged. ‘I shouldn’t think so.’
He raised his cup to his lips and swallowed the remainder of his coffee, his dark head tilted back, the brown column of his throat moving rhythmically.
Cleo was unwillingly fascinated, but she managed to drag her eyes away and say, ‘So—he waited until they were dead?’
Dominic lowered his cup to its saucer and regarded her resignedly. ‘What are you saying? You think the old man had something to do with their deaths?’
‘Heavens, no.’ Cleo was horrified. ‘They died in a train crash, you know that.’ She hesitated, and then went on a little emotionally, ‘They’d been to visit some friends who’d relocated to North Wales and were on their way back. Apparently the train became derailed at a crossing. It was an accident. A terrible accident.’ Her voice broke then. ‘I miss them so much.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
The sympathy in Dominic’s voice was almost her undoing, but she managed to hold herself together.
Dominic, meanwhile, was having a hard time controlling the urge he had to comfort her. But he hadn’t forgotten what happened when he touched her. How uncontrollable his own reaction could be.
‘Anyway,’ she went on, unaware of his agitation, ‘your aunt said that was when—when he decided to contact me.’
‘Yeah.’ Dominic sucked in a breath. ‘He’d known the Novaks wouldn’t take kindly to any intervention from him. But after—well, after the funeral, he had a firm of in vestigators find out all about you.’
‘But how did he know about the train crash?’
‘Again, according to his lawyer, he’d already traced the Novaks to Islington. It wasn’t until after the funeral he discovered that you weren’t living with them.’
Cleo frowned. ‘I moved out a couple of years ago, when Mom and Dad went to live with Mrs Chapman. I was just finishing college and I’d got the job at St Augustine’s, so I didn’t want to move away.’
‘So you decided to share an apartment with a friend?’
‘More or less.’
Dominic realised she was unaware of it, but this was the first time she’d been totally relaxed with him.
And he was enjoying her company far too much.
Nevertheless, it was impossible to ignore the fact that he was possibly her only ally here. His grandfather had his own agenda, no doubt, but both Serena and his mother resented her. That went without saying.
And her vulnerability stirred him in a way he’d never felt before. In her simple T-shirt and shorts, her dark hair caught up in a ponytail, she looked so young and—dammit, innocent.
He scowled. He had to stop feeling responsible for her, he told himself. The old man wouldn’t like it; wouldn’t like the idea that she depended on Dominic and not himself.
But it was that sense of responsibility that had made Dominic accept his grandfather’s invitation to stay the night at Magnolia Hill. Despite the fact that Sarah Cordy, his current girlfriend, had made him promise to go and see her as soon as he got back…
‘Norah—that’s the girl I live with,’ Cleo was saying now, completely unaware of his frustration, ‘she was finding the rent of the apartment too much for just one person, so she offered me the chance to share.’ She smiled disarmingly. ‘I jumped at it.’
‘And Eric? Where does he fit in?’
Dominic heard the words leave his lips with a feeling of incredulity. Dammit, whoever Eric was, it was nothing to do with him. But it was too late to take them back now.
‘Eric?’ Cleo’s lips rounded. ‘Oh, yes, you met Eric, didn’t you?’ A teasing smile tilted her mouth. ‘Did he scare you?’
‘Are you kidding me?’
Dominic had answered without thinking, but now he realised she’d just been baiting him.
‘Oh, yeah, very clever,’ he grunted. ‘The guy really had me quaking at the knees.’
‘And they’re such nice knees, aren’t they?’ Cleo giggled, stepping back to get a better look. ‘Mmm, you definitely wouldn’t win any knobbly-knees contest.’
‘Any what?’ he was demanding, advancing on her half threateningly, when they both became aware that they were no longer alone.
His mother was standing at the far side of the terrace, amazingly holding the tray that contained Cleo’s breakfast in her hands.
Her blue eyes were glacial as they rested on Cleo’s flushed face. Then warmed slightly when they moved to her son.
‘Am I interrupting?’ she asked, indicating the tray. ‘I intercepted Susie in the foyer and she said you’d asked for this, Dominic.’ Her smile was thin. ‘I thought you’d already had breakfast.’
‘I have.’
Dominic was fairly sure the tray wasn’t all his mother had got from Susie, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
‘It’s Cleo’s breakfast,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Here.’ He went towards her. ‘Let me take it from you.’
‘I can manage,’ she said.
But somehow—Dominic didn’t want to think it was deliberate—the tray slipped from her hands.
Cleo jumped back as cups and saucers shattered on the stone paving, Fruit juice and hot coffee splashed in all directions, the latter burning as it touched her bare feet.
She bent automatically to pick up a rolling peach, its skin as soft as her own, thought Dominic savagely. But bruised now, as she was, by his mother’s careless hands.
Then her eyes moved anxiously to his and he turned to give his mother an enigmatic look.
‘Oh, dear me!’ Lily Montoya pressed her clasped hands to her breast. ‘I’m so clumsy.’
And if Cleo hadn’t seen the look the woman had cast her earlier, she might have believed she meant it.
CHAPTER SIX
‘IT DOESN’T matter.’ Dominic was dismissive, almost as if destroying an expensive porcelain coffee service was of no matter. ‘I’ll get Susie to bring another tray.’
‘Oh, please, don’t!’
Cleo’s cry arrested him. She didn’t think she could bear to be alone with Lily Montoya at this moment.
She hadn’t asked to come here, she told herself as the other woman’s expression hardened. And, although she had sympathy for Lily’s feelings, Dominic’s mother shouldn’t blame her because her husband hadn’t been able to keep his trousers zipped.
‘Cleo—’ Dominic began, when the clatter of a stick against stone made them all turn.
‘Dom! Dom!’ Jacob Montoya stumped heavily across the terrace, sharp eyes taking in the scene and finding it wanting. ‘What’s going on here, boy? Has your mother been throwing china around again?’
‘I dropped the tray, Jacob.’ Lily was defensive. ‘I’m not in the habit of breaking things.’
‘If you say so.’ Jacob spoke indifferently. ‘I just hope you’re not trying to intimidate our guest.’
Lily’s lips tightened. ‘Your guest, Jacob. Not mine. Or Dominic’s.’
‘Ma!’ Dominic intervened now, aware that Cleo’s face was rapidly losing all colour. ‘Can’t you see, Cleo had no part in Dad’s defection? You can’t blame her for something she knew nothing about.’
‘And that’s the truth,’ broke in his grandfather staunchly, but Lily wasn’t listening to him.
Taking a handkerchief out of her handbag, she held it to her nose, her eyes seeking Dominic’s in mute appeal. ‘I’m not to blame either,’ she whispered tearfully. ‘I thought you would understand how I felt.’
‘I do.’ Dominic could feel himself weakening, but he knew deep inside that his mother was far more capable of manipulating the situation to her own ends than Cleo. ‘Just cool it, hmm, Ma? We all need to learn to get along together, right?’
Lily sniffed. ‘I think you’re asking too much, Dominic. This is my home—’
‘But it’s my house,’ Jacob Montoya interrupted, his voice surprisingly forceful. ‘And so long as I own Magnolia Hill, I’ll say who can or can’t stay here.’
Cleo stifled a groan. She pressed cold hands to her face, wishing the paving stones of the terrace would just open up and swallow her.
This was so much worse than she’d anticipated. She’d been anxious about Dominic’s mother, of course, but she’d never expected the woman to take such an instantaneous dislike to her.
And the fact that Lily lived here, at Magnolia Hill, just emphasised the problem. Someone should have warned her about this before she agreed to come here.
‘Look, we’re upsetting Cleo,’ said Dominic impatiently, and his mother let out a wounded cry.
‘You’re upsetting me, Dominic,’ she protested, her eyes wide and indignant. ‘But that doesn’t matter, apparently.’
‘Oh, please…’ Cleo couldn’t take any more of this. She looked from her grandfather to Dominic and then back again. ‘I—I never wanted to stay here. And I certainly don’t want to upset anyone. I’d be much happier if I could just find a room at a bed-and-breakfast—’
‘Forget it!’
Before Dominic could voice his own protest, his grandfather had intervened.
‘You’re staying here, girl,’ Jacob said flatly. ‘That’s a given. And if my daughter-in-law isn’t happy with that, then I suggest she finds somewhere else to stay, not you.’
‘Oh, but—’ began Cleo, only to have Dominic intercede this time.
‘Would you rather Cleo stay at Turtle Cove with me, Ma?’ he suggested, and, as he’d expected, his mother couldn’t hide her dismay at this proposal.
‘That—that would be totally inappropriate!’ she exclaimed, aghast, and Jacob actually laughed.
‘Good move, Dom,’ he said, before shuffling across the terrace to where Cleo was standing and throwing a reassuring arm about her shoulders. ‘It’ll all work out, you’ll see,’ he added, giving her a protective squeeze. ‘So we’ll hear no more about bed-and-breakfasts, OK?’
Cleo wanted to move out of his embrace. Whatever he said, she’d never feel at home here. But she had the feeling she was supporting Jacob as much as he was supporting her, so she merely shook her head.
‘Now,’ he went on cheerfully, ‘I’m guessing that was your breakfast that ended up on the ground, am I right?’ Her expression gave him her answer, and he nodded. ‘Good. Then we’ll have breakfast together.’
‘You’ve had breakfast, Father.’
Lily wasn’t going to give in without a fight, it seemed, but Jacob only gave her a warning look. ‘I can have two breakfasts, can’t I?’ he demanded. Then he looked at Cleo again. ‘But I think we’ll have it in the morning room. This place needs cleaning up and the atmosphere doesn’t suit me at the moment.’
Dominic watched Cleo and Jacob make their way across the terrace and into the house. Then he turned to look at his mother.
‘You OK?’
‘Like you care.’ Lily was near to tears.
‘Of course I care,’ said Dominic heavily. ‘But antagonising the old man isn’t going to do you any good.’ He paused. ‘She’s his granddaughter. She has every right to be here, and you know that.’
Lily pursed her lips. ‘You like her, don’t you?’
‘Uh—yeah.’ Dominic was wary. ‘She’s my adoptive sister. What’s not to like?’
‘Correction, she’s your father’s by-blow,’ retorted Lily angrily. ‘She’s not related to us by any means whatsoever.’
‘OK.’ Dominic closed his eyes for a moment. ‘But she’s still a Montoya, in everything but name. Whatever names you choose to call her, she’s still the legitimate heir to Magnolia Hill.’
Lily’s lips parted. ‘Did your grandfather tell you that?’ she asked, appalled.
‘No.’ Dominic didn’t know what the old man might decide about the house. ‘But she does have a place here, Ma. Goodness knows, it was hard enough to persuade her to come.’
Lily frowned. ‘You’re joking!’
‘No, I’m not.’ Dominic was weary of this. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. I promised Josh I’d call into the office as soon as I got back.’
‘Oh, yes, it’s all right for you, isn’t it?’ muttered Lily resentfully. ‘My father left you God knows how many millions, and Jacob’s already given you virtual control of the Montoya Corporation. Whereas I—I—’
‘Can do exactly what you like,’ Dominic interrupted her flatly. ‘You chose to come and live here when Dad died. But there’s nothing stopping you from buying another house.’
Lily gasped. ‘This is my home!’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say otherwise.’
‘I’m not saying otherwise,’ protested Dominic, wishing he’d never started this. ‘I just want you to be happy.’
‘Then you should never have brought that girl here,’ declared his mother forcefully. ‘I don’t know what Sarah’s going to think.’
‘Sarah’s not my keeper, Ma!’
‘No, but she is your girlfriend, Dominic. She deserves some loyalty, don’t you think? Or are you blinded by this other young woman’s doubtful charms?’
Dominic stifled an oath. ‘You’re exaggerating the situation,’ he said harshly. ‘Sarah’s a friend, that’s all. I’ll go and see her in my own good time.’
‘I think she thinks she’s rather more than that,’ said his mother tightly. ‘But in any event, I’d make my peace with her before she hears about your apparent attachment for your grandfather’s—um—folly—from someone else.’
Dominic scowled. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘You can’t deny you and the Novak girl were acting very cosy when I walked onto the terrace,’ Lily asserted, pushing the tissue she’d been using back into her bag.
Dominic raked long fingers through his hair. ‘Don’t call her the Novak girl!’ he exclaimed frustratedly. ‘Anyway, what do you mean, we were acting cosy? What did you think we were doing?’
‘I don’t know, do I?’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ Dominic was rapidly losing his temper and it was an effort to rein it in. ‘I was trying to get her to relax, that’s all. If you’d get your head out of your—’ He broke off, before he said something unforgivable, and continued, ‘Get to know her, Ma. You might like her, too.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Lily was inflexible and Dominic gave up. ‘I’m going to change,’ he said. ‘I need to get into town.’
Hunched shoulders was his only answer and, blowing out an impatient breath, Dominic started for the door.
There was no point in saying any more, he realised. He’d probably said more than he should already. But, dammit, Cleo needed someone other than his grandfather to fight her corner.
Breakfast with her grandfather was surprisingly enjoyable.
And, although Cleo knew it was due in no small part to Jacob’s determination to put her at her ease, she found him amazingly easy to talk to.
Much like Dominic, she admitted unwillingly. Except that when she was talking to her grandfather, there was no sexual tension between them.
As there was with Dominic.
A shiver of remembrance prickled her spine. She didn’t know what might have happened if his mother hadn’t interrupted them as she had. Or was that simmering awareness between them only in her mind, not his? There was no doubt it played an integral part in the way she reacted to him.
But it was pleasant, sitting in the sunlit luxury of the morning room, overlooking the gardens of the house and the blue-green waters of the Atlantic beyond.
Crisp lemon-yellow linen, gleaming silver flatware, cut glass and bone china, all set on a circular table in the shaded curve of the windows.
Jacob began by saying how sorry he was that she’d lost her parents—even if he was thinking that she’d had no blood tie to them at all. Nevertheless, he was kind enough to express his condolences; to help her to relax and feel there was someone else, besides herself, who cared.
Her apology for not appearing again the night before was quickly dealt with.
‘Dominic was right,’ he assured her, gnarled fingers surprisingly dark against her creamy skin. ‘I should have realised you were tired. Instead of expecting you to be as excited to see me as I was to see you.’
Cleo had no answer to that. Easy-going as he was, she hadn’t to forget how she came to be here. But it wasn’t as easy to hold a grudge in such beautiful surroundings. And hadn’t he been as much a victim of circumstance as she was?
No!
Fortunately, her grandfather was happy to lead the conversation. He seemed quite content to describe the island and its history, entertaining her with stories of the illegal rum-running that had gone on during Prohibition in the United States.
Surprisingly, he’d also mentioned the slavery that had taken place during the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries, too. He’d shocked her by admitting that there were few families on San Clemente who could claim there was no mixed blood in their ancestry.
Indeed, she’d been so engrossed in what he was saying that it wasn’t until the meal was over that Cleo realised how much about her own life he’d gleaned. Just the odd question here and there, but she’d found herself telling him about her job and about Norah, forgetting for a few moments exactly who he was.
He was a clever man, she mused, accepting his invitation to sit on the terrace for a while after breakfast. He’d probably already known half of what she’d told him. But by getting her to confide in him, he’d created a bond between them that would be that much harder to break.
‘Perhaps you’d like a swim,’ he remarked, apparently aware that Cleo had been eyeing the cool waters below the terrace with some envy. ‘Later this afternoon, you might enjoy a walk along the shoreline. I’d like to take you myself, but for now I can recommend the pool.’
‘Oh, no.’ Cleo shook her head. Then, in an outright lie, ‘I don’t have a swimsuit, Mr Montoya.’
‘If you can’t call me Grandpa, call me Jacob,’ he said a little tersely then, continuing his earlier suggestion. ‘A swimsuit is no problem.’ He gestured with his stick towards the cabanas. ‘You’ll find everything you need in one of the cabins. Serena always keeps a selection of swimwear for unexpected guests.’
‘But I’m not really an unexpected guest, am I?’ Cleo regarded him with cautious eyes. ‘I think I’d rather hear why you’ve brought me here now. When—well, for over twenty years you’ve ignored my existence.’