A Touch of Notoriety

chapter FIVE



‘WHAT HAPPENS NOW?’ Raphael prompted huskily, his breath a soft caress against Beth’s heated cheeks as he looked up at her between narrowed lids, making no attempt to move out from beneath her much softer curves.

Her throat moved convulsively as she swallowed, her cheeks flushed, that gleam of triumph slowly fading from her eyes to be replaced by wariness as she obviously became fully aware of the precariousness of her position.

The pink tip of her tongue appeared between her lips as she moistened them before answering him softly. ‘I’m not really sure...’

Neither was Raphael. Instinct—and the demands of his aroused body—told him to wrap his arms about this woman before rolling over and putting her beneath him, to nudge her legs apart before settling between them as he kissed her into pleasurable submission. Logic and good sense told him that would not only be an incredibly stupid move on his part, but also a dangerous one.

As he had feared, his instinct won...

‘What—?’ Beth barely had time to voice a protest as she felt steel bands move about her waist—Raphael’s arms?—as he rolled to the side and then above her, pinning her hands with his either side of her head, before his lips—those sculptured and incredibly sensual lips!—came down and claimed hers in a kiss that sent any thought of further protest completely out of her head. A kiss that owed nothing to gentle exploration and everything to fierce, possessive need as Raphael’s lips devoured and claimed.

Beth returned that hunger, her lips parting as Raphael’s tongue moved across them in a rasping caress before plunging deeply, hotly, into the heat of her mouth. She arched beneath him as he moved his thighs against and into her in a slow and seductive rhythm, freeing her hands to move them caressingly over the muscled contours of his chest to the warmth of his naked shoulders and then down over the flexing muscles of his back to the firmness of his bottom.

Steel encased in velvet. Every hard, delicious inch of Raphael was solid muscle encased in velvet-soft flesh. His chest. Shoulders. Back. Bottom. The hard and throbbing length of his aroused shaft as it moved so enticingly between her thighs...!

This man, a man Beth had once accused of possessing the emotions of a robot, was as physically aroused as she was!

She groaned low in her throat as she felt one of Raphael’s hands now cupping her breast, the thin material of her T-shirt no barrier to the pleasure of the sweeping caress of his thumb across the achingly aroused nipple, and sending shards of that pleasure coursing through her body even as it increased the throbbing, damp heat between her swollen and moist thighs.

Beth gazed up at Raphael in mute appeal as he wrenched his mouth from hers to move his weight off her as he looked down at her searchingly with eyes that were as dark as midnight, a flush to the hardness of his cheeks.

‘Your breasts fit perfectly into the palm of my hand,’ he murmured gruffly.

‘Do they?’ The sexual tension between them was so heavy and thick with expectation that Beth could barely breathe.

‘I wonder if...’ Those sculptured lips slightly parted as he continued to hold her gaze as he slowly lowered his head and placed his mouth on her breasts through her T-shirt before he gently drew the tight bud of her nipple into the heat of his mouth and suckled deeply.

Beth’s lids fluttered closed, her breath now coming in ragged gasps as she instinctively arched her back, pushing her nipple deeper into the burning heat of Raphael’s mouth, wanting more, wanting— Oh, God, wanting—

She gasped, her fingers digging painfully into Raphael’s shoulders, as she felt the heat of his hand cup between her parted thighs before pressing against the swollen nub nestled there in the same rhythm as he suckled deeply on her aching nipple, Beth immediately becoming lost to this duel assault on her senses, the pleasure rising, and then rising higher still, until she felt on the point of—

A deep gurgling sound preceded a low rumble, breaking through that haze of pleasure as Raphael stilled above her before releasing her nipple and raising his head to look down at her enquiringly, his eyes glittering a dark and amused blue.

Beth licked her lips. ‘Was that my stomach rumbling or yours?’

His mouth quirked into a mocking smile. ‘I believe it was yours...’

How embarrassing was that? She was alone with, and being kissed by, the most gorgeously handsome man she had ever met in her life, the two of them were making love together—to the degree she was poised on the edge of climax!—and her uncooperative stomach chose that moment to let her know it was time she put some food inside it!

Something that Raphael, at least, found amusing, if the laughter gleaming in those dark blue eyes as he looked down at her was any indication.

‘It is past time you were fed, it would seem,’ he bit out harshly. He rose agilely to his feet before holding out his hand to help Beth stand up beside him, the expression in his eyes hidden by hooded lids.

A Beth who was totally aware of the dampness of her T-shirt against her bared breast, as indication of the intimacies they had just shared...

* * *

Intimacies Raphael gave no indication of so much as remembering, let alone being affected by, fifteen minutes later as he moved efficiently about the kitchen preparing the steaks and potatoes for their dinner, while Beth washed and prepared the salad.

Beth didn’t know whether to be relieved or irritated by his behaviour. A lot of both, perhaps. Relieved that she wasn’t being put through feeling awkward in his company. But irritated, just the same, by the way Raphael seemed to have succeeded in putting the incident—apocalyptic as far as Beth was concerned!—completely from his mind. She had dated often in the past, even shared a passionate kiss or two with several of the men she had dated, but she had never been aroused by those kisses in the way she was even now just being in the same room with Raphael, let alone allowed them to touch her intimately. More than touch her intimately...!

Her gaze had avoided meeting Raphael’s earlier as she had mumbled her excuses before stumbling from the gym and hurrying down to her bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief once she was able to lean back against the closed bedroom door. Which was when she had caught sight of her reflection in the dressing-table mirror directly across from her...

Her hair was a tangled mess as it escaped the confines of her plait, her eyes looked feverishly bright, her cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen, but worst of all had been the sight of the damp patch on the left side of her T-shirt, that moisture making the white material almost transparent, and so blatantly revealing the turgid ripeness of her nipple...!

A nipple still red and achingly engorged from the intimate ministrations of Raphael’s lips, tongue and teeth, Beth had discovered when she drew the T-shirt over her head before throwing it across the room in disgust.

Which was why, once she had showered, she had chosen to dress in a black bra beneath a black blouse over the top of faded denims, before brushing her hair dry so that it lay in a soft and silky sheen against the black blouse.

A pale foundation had taken care of her flushed cheeks, but there was very little Beth could do to hide the fact that her lips remained slightly puffy and swollen from the fierceness of the kisses she and Raphael had shared...

Not that she need have worried too much about her appearance when Raphael—again looking dangerously handsome in a black T-shirt and black denims—had only given her a cursory glance as she entered the kitchen, before then proceeding to continue preparing dinner as if she weren’t there.

Which only succeeded in increasing her feelings of irritation. ‘Would you prefer to eat in here or in the dining room?’ she prompted sharply.

‘In here is fine.’ Raphael didn’t so much as glance her way as he grilled the steaks.

‘Scared I might misunderstand if we were to eat in the formal dining room together, with maybe a candle or two alight in the middle of the table?’ Beth taunted as she placed knives and forks on the kitchen table for the two of them, along with the condiments.

Raphael did glance back at her then. ‘Very little scares me, Beth,’ he assured her coolly.

A coolness that only made Beth’s temper burn even hotter. ‘So we’re just going to pretend earlier didn’t happen?’

He raised dark brows. ‘I had hoped so, but obviously I was wrong.’

Her hands clenched at her sides. ‘Don’t take that superior tone with me.’

‘What tone do you want me to take, Beth?’ Raphael sighed as he turned fully to face her. ‘Or perhaps you require an apology?’ He grimaced. ‘Very well. I should not have kissed you earlier, let alone touched you in the way that I did—’

‘You’re just making the situation worse!’

Raphael didn’t see how it could get any worse. He had overstepped a line earlier, had breeched that barrier so necessary between protector and the person being protected. A lapse in judgement that seriously jeopardised his ability to protect Beth in the way that she should be protected. A breach, if Beth’s challenging behaviour now was an indication, she was unwilling to overlook, and so making it impossible for Raphael to do so, either.

He frowned grimly. ‘I believe it would be better, for both of us, if we were to forgot what happened earlier—’

‘Can you forget it?’

His jaw clenched. ‘Yes.’

‘Well, isn’t that just convenient?’ Her eyes flashed darkly. ‘Unfortunately I don’t have your selective memory.’

Raphael ground his back teeth together before speaking. ‘There is absolutely nothing wrong with my memory, Beth.’

‘Then—’

‘Do you not understand I have a job to do?’ Raphael rasped harshly as he gave up all pretence of politeness in the face of Beth’s dogged determination to have this conversation—whether he wished it or not. ‘And I cannot do that job properly, cannot protect you in the way that you need to be protected, if my thoughts are distracted by images of making love with you! There—does that answer your question?’ He glared his displeasure as a nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw.

‘As a matter of fact, it does.’ She relaxed back against the table edge as she looked across the kitchen at him challengingly. ‘It distracts you to think of the two of us making love together?’

Raphael drew in a harsh breath. ‘Yes!’

‘It distracts me, too,’ she admitted huskily.

His eyes narrowed. ‘You—’

‘Raphael—’

‘You will do me the courtesy of allowing me to finish,’ he rasped impatiently.

‘But—’

‘Beth!’ He bit out his frustration.

‘Fine.’ Beth held up her hands in defeat. ‘I was only going to tell you that the steaks are on fire, but if you aren’t inter—’ She broke off with a grin as Raphael turned and began swearing as he saw the flames and smoke coming out of the grill pan. ‘Don’t worry,’ she added lightly as he pulled the pan out onto the trivet before beating the flames out with the tea towel. ‘I’ve always preferred my steaks well done, anyway!’

Raphael shot her a venomous glance. ‘I have not.’

‘Poor you,’ she murmured dryly.

‘Can we just get this meal over and done with?’ Raphael all but threw the two steaks onto the waiting plates. ‘I have work to do this evening.’

Beth pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Anything I can help you with?’ If she were at home then she could have spent the evening with friends, or catching up on housework, maybe even watching one of her favourite DVDs, but she had no idea what she was supposed to do with the rest of her evening stuck out here in the wilds of Hampshire.

‘I think you have “helped” me quite enough for one evening!’ Raphael pulled out the chair opposite before folding his long length down onto it.

‘If you’re sure...’ Beth helped herself to salad before pushing the bowl across the table to him.

‘I am very sure.’

She nodded as she cut off a piece of steak before popping it into her mouth and chewing with obvious enjoyment for several seconds. ‘Mmm, this steak is delicious.’

Raphael wasn’t fooled for a moment by the innocence of Beth’s expression as she looked across the table at him, knew, by the laughter gleaming in the darkness of her eyes and the half-smile on those thoroughly kissed lips, that her earlier bad humour had now evaporated and she was enjoying herself. At his expense.

‘My father would weep if he could see how I have massacred his precious beef,’ he muttered disgustedly as he pushed the burnt offering to the side of his plate.

‘Your father’s beef?’

Raphael nodded. ‘Cesar has it flown here from Argentina.’

‘Your father farms cattle?’ she prompted lightly.

Raphael gave her a derisive glance. ‘Cattle are not farmed in Argentina, they are ranched. By gauchos.’

Beth had seen photos in magazines of gauchos; men as hard and rugged as the terrain they worked on. ‘And your father works on a ranch in Argentina?’

His jaw tightened as he seemed to realise he had once again been drawn into talking about his family. ‘On the pampas, yes.’

‘That’s very rough countryside, isn’t it?’

‘Very,’ Raphael acknowledged tersely, that stern set to his jaw telling Beth that he would not be drawn on the subject any further than that.

‘Does—? Oh, damn, I forgot the wine!’ She gave him an apologetic grimace as she stood up, having opened a bottle of red wine when she first came down to the kitchen in order to let it breathe, as Grace had shown her. ‘Here, maybe it will help your steak go down!’ She sat down to pour wine into one of the two empty glasses on the table before filling her own and then placing the bottle in the middle of the table.

‘I doubt anything would succeed in making this shoe leather palatable!’ Raphael muttered disgustedly as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip of the wine.

There was absolutely no way of missing the way that he stilled the moment he tasted the wine before slowly swallowing. ‘Is there something wrong with it?’ Beth prompted warily as she paused after sipping her own wine; Grace might have shown her how to remove the cork from a bottle of wine, and how to chill a white wine, and allow a bottle of red to breathe before drinking it, but differentiating between a good and a cheap and nasty wine was still beyond Beth’s palate.

Raphael carefully replaced his glass down on the table. ‘Where did you get this from?’

‘The rack near the kitchen door. Which was why I assumed it was okay to use. Please tell me I haven’t opened some priceless and irreplaceable bottle of wine that Cesar has been nurturing as an investment, or saving for a special occasion!’ She wasn’t feeling in the least reassured by the bleakness of Raphael’s expression.

Raphael affected a neutral expression as he reached out to pick up the bottle and look at the label. As he had thought, it bore the Cordoba name. His name. From his family vineyard.

‘Raphael?’

He forced the tension from his shoulders as he glanced across the table at the anxiously watching Beth. ‘No, you have not opened a priceless bottle of wine,’ he drawled reassuringly as he replaced the bottle carefully back onto the table. ‘I had forgotten that Cesar is partial to this particular red wine with his steak, that is all.’ He gave a shake of his head.

Beth reached out and picked up the bottle, a frown appearing between her eyes as she read the name on the label. ‘A relative of yours?’

Raphael gave a humourless smile. ‘My father.’

She sat back against the chair. ‘But I thought you said your father was a gaucho?’

‘I said he ranched cattle,’ Raphael corrected dryly.

‘But I thought— He owns the ranch,’ Beth realised with a frown, ‘and no doubt has gauchos who work for him? Just as he owns the vineyard where this wine came from?’

He gave a grimace. ‘Yes.’

‘Your family is wealthy?’

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Nowhere near the Navarros’ fortune, but, yes, the Cordoba family is wealthy.’

‘I had assumed—’ She blinked. ‘Assumption obviously being the mother of all—’

‘Beth!’ he cut in warningly.

She gave him an impatient glare. ‘Well, you have to admit, Raphael, it’s a little unusual, to find the heir to a ranch and an obviously successful vineyard working as Head of Security for someone else, even if that someone else is as close to you as a brother.’

A nerve pulsed in Raphael’s tightly clenched jaw. ‘Not if that is what that person chooses to do.’

‘But you’re the son and heir, so why aren’t you working on the ranch or vineyard with your father?’

‘I do not believe I have to answer that.’

‘Why not, when it’s a perfectly valid question in the circumstances?’

Beth could have no idea of the circumstances surrounding Raphael’s reasons for leaving his home and his family fifteen years ago, and moving to Buenos Aires to stay with the Navarros. Nor did he have any intention of confiding in her as to the unacceptable—and persistent—sexual advances of his father’s second wife which, when discovered, had resulted in his father believing her claims that she hadn’t wanted to tell him but Raphael had been pestering her to have sex with him for months behind his back. It was perhaps that last detail that hurt Raphael the most. That, at the time, his father had chosen to believe his wife’s version of events rather than that of his own son...

Raphael looked at Beth coolly. ‘Perhaps because I do not make a habit of confiding my...personal family business with people I have only just met.’

Beth drew her breath in sharply. Was that how Raphael thought of her, as merely a person he had just met? And why should he think of her in any other way? Because they had shared a few kisses and intimacies earlier this evening? Albeit intimacies that Beth had never allowed with another man...

What had happened between the two of them earlier might have been unique in Beth’s limited physical experience, but it certainly wasn’t in Raphael’s. In fact, the opposite, if his expertise in that area was any indication. It was also an incident he had told her he would rather they both forgot...

‘You’re right, Raphael, this steak really is inedible.’ She gave him a tight smile as she stood up. ‘I think I’ll go to bed now. I’m feeling rather tired after all the travelling today. Leave all this.’ She waved a hand towards the mess on the table. ‘I’ll clear it away in the morning.’

Raphael recognised the lie for what it was. ‘You have not eaten anything.’

‘I’m no longer hungry.’ Her eyes flashed darkly as she looked challengingly across the kitchen at him.

He scowled darkly. ‘Why are you making such a fuss over something that is basically none of your business?’

Her chin rose as she gave a humourless smile. ‘Glad to see you haven’t lost your brutal honesty—in regard to some subjects, at least!’

Raphael winced. ‘It was not my intention to be brutal—’

‘Then I’ll know to stay well out of your way when it is,’ Beth came back with hard derision. ‘What time are we leaving for London in the morning?’

He frowned his displeasure with the change of subject. ‘I thought seven-thirty.’

‘I should make it seven o’clock.’ She frowned. ‘The London traffic can be awful at that time of the morning.’

‘I will inform Edward,’ he confirmed tersely.

The golden swathe of her hair fell forward over her shoulders as Beth nodded. ‘Goodnight, Raphael, and don’t work too hard,’ she added dryly before leaving.

‘Goodnight, Beth...’ Raphael murmured softly as he stared at the doorway Beth had disappeared through.

As he continued to wonder, long after Beth must have reached her bedroom, exactly how they were going to proceed during the long days or weeks ahead.

Having decided, after that unforgivable incident in the gym earlier this evening, that he had to maintain his distance from Beth in future, Raphael now deeply regretted having told her the little about his family that he had.

Regretted having ever met the disturbing Beth Blake at all...