chapter 5
Eduardo García put down the papers, a report on Finery & Frocks. His investigators had been busy. He smiled to himself, and leaned back, hands behind head. So Rafael had been telling the truth after all. The company was a good buy, in difficulty, but not because of the lines, their problems were self-inflicted.
James Julian Bligh a prat in urgent need of money because he gambled beyond his means, and drank himself to excess. The girl was the impetus behind the company, her designs apparently quite something.
Rafael had connections with the girl, so the project might be worth putting money into. He would call the bankers to see how much swilled around. A change of direction might not be such a bad thing after all.
He could see the headlines now, ‘Eminent Hotelier Slips Into Frocks’. No doubt it would cause a stir in the cutthroat world of fashion.
The most interesting part, though, was not her designs, but the new fabric she worked on. His people assured him it was still hush-hush, not yet perfect, but getting close. Apparently she worked in secret, but had not learned that throwing stuff into waste-bins was not the way to maintain secrecy.
His investigators had secured a rejected sample, and even he appreciated the uniqueness. He held the fabric up; brilliant, utterly distinctive, flawed at the moment, but once refined…
How many people knew? Did Rafael? Somehow he doubted it. Rafael wouldn’t be able to stop crowing if he did, and he hadn’t said a word.
He would leave instructions to have the bins cleaned each day, in case others found out too.
***
“You know nothing,” Kat yelled.
Rafael didn’t bother to reply because he was in the wrong. He walked away, so as not to make matters worse. She slammed the door behind. Jeez! He pulled his collar up and ran through heavy rain to his car.
He’d gone and spoiled things yet again. He’d stupidly tried to seduce her a week ago. Since then, they’d done nothing but fall out, mostly over nothing. She’d called him a malignant influence. He wasn’t, but he’d misread her body language, which meant he’d fouled up big time. Now she picked fault with everything.
Rafael gunned the engine and the Lamborghini leaped forward, shooting out of the gravel drive so stones flirted everywhere, his anger directed straight at himself for behaving like a silly teenager.
This time, she’d been affronted because he’d been crass enough to make comments on one of her new creations, when not finished. He realised he shouldn’t interfere, but he had an insane need to be with her. The new outfit had been an excuse.
Everything between them was spoiled.
He swung the powerful car onto the road and accelerated. The spring storm was bad. Rain hammered at the windshield and he flicked the wipers to maximum.
Had things been different it might have put an amusing twist on things, him watching her, watching him. It wasn’t amusing though. Something had long-since caused a shift in her behaviour and he didn’t know what. Everything about her had been odd, even the interview. Yet, nothing had been as odd as the way she’d left all those years ago. What the hell was going on?
The accountants still probed the books, but so far they looked legit, even their quirky way of doing things. Yet she appeared cagey, as if afraid of giving something away, or of them finding something? Did she really hate him so much she couldn’t stand being near him, and if so, why?
What did she cover?
Once they’d been mind-blowing together, yet now he couldn’t connect with her. Why was she so standoffish? He’d like to get inside her mind. Was she devious? Rafael frowned, hoped they weren’t setting up a fraud. Surely they weren’t.
Damn!
The stuff she turned out appeared good, some designs very sophisticated. The test runs had been first-class, turned out better than either of them hoped. It had taken a while for her to fathom out how to adapt her ideas to computer-aided-design and modern manufacturing techniques, and he’d started to get edgy, but she’d damn-well sorted it.
Rafael drummed his fingers on the steering wheel with agitation. He had to admit, her antagonism fuelled his urge to have her. He wanted to taste the fruit for old time’s sake. What had caused her to dump him all those years ago? What had he done?
With creations, she had the Midas touch, and Papá had already told him he’d made his mind up to go ahead with the takeover. Rafael considered Kat’s design range too unique to be handled in the usual way. He would set up a new production team, recruit the best seamstresses, and ensure quality control of the highest standard, before doubling the selling price of Italian Concept. They would only allow limited runs, because nothing ensured success like exclusivity.
That’s what Kat was, exclusive. He stared at the wet twisting road, not seeing, driving automatically.
How many nights had he lain awake after she’d left him all those years ago? He’d fantasised of her return; dreamed of endless hours in bed together. He’d pictured her naked body; slim, pale as alabaster, full of fire. In his imaginings he’d touched her, and stroked her cool skin. He’d waited and waited but there had been no return.
Now he didn’t have to wait. She was here, but he would never again know pleasure.
Rain gushed against the car windshield. Rafael swung through swathes of water into the parking lot outside the Castellvi Restaurant. He locked the car, pulled up his collar, dodged huge puddles in the parking lot, and ran into the village.
When they went ahead with the annexation, would he be able to arrange for her to be on his staff? They could be together day after day that way and eventually she might decide he was worth another try.
Hell, what was he thinking?
Kat was getting inside his skin. Nothing quenched his insane desire for her. He gritted his teeth. She drove him silly. He was too biased for this job, but Papá wouldn’t listen. The takeover was Rafael’s initiation rite, so he had to clear the air between him and Katrina. He’d do it the moment he got back.
He drew money from the cash dispenser, bought a newspaper and dashed to the nearest ironmongers for a couple of items he needed.
When he returned, Kat was still angry. Why did women make things complicated? Her obsessions were bottled and ready to burst. His heart dropped, but he made an effort to be cheerful, and said, “How’re things going? Okay?”
“Considering you’re an expert on my designs and what I do, I’d have thought you’d already know,” she said rigidly.
Rafael took off his wet jacket. “You know it isn’t like that,” he said over his shoulder. “I only said what I thought.”
“Well don’t. Women think differently than men.”
“Katrina…” Rafael hesitated. “You have a king-sized chip on your shoulder. For no reason at all, you’re full of rage.”
She ignored him.
He said, “Don’t let rage destroy you.”
“Will you leave me alone and let me get on?”
“If you’re not careful, it will you know. Be intense, sure, but harness it, channel it into your work. We made it plain from the beginning that we expected you to work within the spirit of the agreement. If you can’t, we shall have to rethink our position.”
“Just because I don’t agree with you, you have to put the pressure on.”
He sighed. “If it’s me you have a problem with, we’ll have to find a way around.”
Kat was head down over her sketches. “I suppose you’re going to tell me I’m lost again?”
Rafael didn’t want to argue. He wanted to reason things through. “Don’t do a brush off, Kat,” he said patiently. “Learn to be positive. Stop being self-destructive.”
She put her pencil down and shoved her sketches to one side. “Why the hell should it matter to you?”
“It matters. Look, plenty of designers are good. You’re more than good, but to be the best needs a lot extra. Most people can’t be bothered.”
Her lips tightened. “Is that what you think; that I can’t be bothered. Well screw you! You don’t know a thing about me.”
Rafael sighed. He couldn’t do right for doing wrong. He tried again. “What I’m trying to say, is those who get knocked down but plough on regardless, rise to the top.”
“Still playing at psychologist, I see.”
“If you don’t accept limits on yourself, if you acknowledge your potential is inexhaustible, it’s incredible what you can do.”
“And here’s me thinking I’d already done it.”
“Look, I know you’re doing well, but you are potentially the best this century. I’ve seen none better.”
“So why do you feel the need to comment on my work?”
He held up his hands as her expression tightened. “Okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interfered. Is that what you want to hear?”
Kat glared then abruptly stood and thrust past him.
Rafael stayed his ground. What had he said wrong now? Why did she behave like this? “Kat,” he called.
She reached the door before she turned. Her voice, tired. “Yes?”
“You have the potential,” he said tolerantly. “Don’t throw it away.”
***
It was dark. Rafael heard her moving around in her bedroom, and tapped on the door. “I’ve made some drinking chocolate,” he said. “Would you like one?”
“I suppose so,” she said dully.
“May I come in?” He took in a tray, carefully balancing the drinks as he closed the door with his heel. He said warily, “I’m making a mess of things.”
She shrugged.
“You’re finding it hard to break through that shell, aren’t you? You’ve made a prison for yourself. Baby birds, all they do is tap at the same old spot until whoosh, they’re out.”
“What shell? What you see is what you get.”
He handed her a mug, “Inside you, I see a woman struggling to find her way out. A sensuous woman, a woman brimming with artistic merit, maybe well cared for but very suppressed. I smell anger, and that’s bad.”
Kat took a sip of her drink. “You’ve been reading too many agony aunts. I’m simply a hardworking designer who hates interference.”
“Do you know what I think? I think the essential you, is incarcerated. Key gone, lock rusted.”
He gazed as her fingers fluttered on the mug. She was tormented by something, but what? He said, “On one hand it’s hidden, yet on the other it’s all over your sleeve. What a paradox you are.”
“Is this your version of the Spanish Inquisition?”
He saw desolation in her eyes, as if hope had been driven from them. He suddenly felt full of affection. “I’m just trying to help rid yourself of those bogeys.”
“Bogeys, what bogeys? I don’t have bogeys.” She toyed with her mug. “Rafael…” She twisted the mug around on the table at the side of the bed. “…Be my friend.”
“I thought we were?”
“I think I’d like to go for a walk. Will you come with me?”
Rafael smiled easily. “Of course; I’d like that. It’s late though. Will you be all right?”
“I need to get out.” She glanced to the window. “But I don’t want to go alone, not at the moment.”
“Of course not, especially in the dark. Mind you, you’ll need to wear something rainproof.”
“When you’ve been brought up in England, you get used to wet weather. You never go anywhere without a rainproof.”
***
The storm had worn itself out. It drizzled, but wasn’t cold. He watched as Kat turned her face skyward to let drizzle wash over her cheeks, beads of moisture collecting on her lashes. He said, “Feel better?”
She nodded. They walked all the way to the outskirts of Alcalali. Damp and lamplight formed an aura around her, made something special of her. Rafael’s insides tightened. Sometimes he found her haunting. Every so often the strength of his feelings frightened him. He really would need to be careful, considering how easily he said things that upset her.
They came to a junction on a bend in the road, and he pointed across the road. “That’s the back door to ‘El Sol’. You can often find ex-pats in; all nationalities gather there. They have quiz nights, karaoke, pool nights; you name it, they do it. Singing, dancing, you’ll find everything. A giant Dutchman runs it, brusque, a bit crude at times, but he’s okay.”
Rain sputtered on a broad-leafed laurel that grew on the roadside. The weather was heavy again, gathering. Rafael looked at storm clouds warily. Had this walk been a mistake? A small black-and-white terrier darted from beneath the bushes and ran across the road, yelping furiously. The movement showered them with spray and they laughed. He flicked a sprig toward her and showered her even more.
“Rat-bag!” she shouted and made a grab for him. He dodged and she chased him, shouting.
Rafael ran away easily then stopped to wait for her. Kat must have enjoyed it, because she began to laugh. She stopped, breathless, hands on hips, still laughing. Rafael warmed inside, glad he’d been the cause. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but it didn’t matter anymore.
Kat ran toward him again. He was about to turn away as she lost her footing, and slipped headlong beneath a huge oleander shrub. The laughter died in his throat. “Kat!”
He dashed toward her. She gave a moan. He crawled under the oleander and brushed wet hair from her forehead. Blood ran down her face. He said anxiously, “Are you okay?”
Kat moaned again and flexed her arms carefully. “My head hurts, but I think I’m okay. I feel horribly bruised, my ego is dented beyond repair, but I’ll live.”
“We need to get you indoors. You’re wet through.” He took out his cell phone and called for a taxi.
Kat started to stand but Rafael stopped her and made her wait until the taxi arrived. When it did, he swept her up in his arms. She protested, but he insisted on carrying her.
They were driven back to the villa and he directed the driver to park around the back. He carried her, still protesting, through the kitchen. The wood-burning oven gave off remnant smells of the last meal, and it followed them, as he carried her through into his study.
He laid her with care onto a green leather chesterfield. “I’m afraid the room is untidy,” he said. “I have to keep Aliaga out of here; otherwise I’d never find a thing. She’d have a field day if she got her hands on it; there’d be papers and dust flying everywhere.”
Kat started to remove her wet jacket, and Rafael helped her. “I’ll ‘phone for the doctor.”
“I’m perfectly okay.” She stood and started to turn around to show him how much better she felt.
“Don’t do that,” Rafael said brusquely.
“Why?”
“It could be dangerous. You’re seeing a doctor whether you like it or not. Sit-down.”
***
Kat stared at the closed door. He’d gone before she could think up reasons why not. She hated fuss, but she found the self-assurance in Rafael, slightly overwhelming.
For years she’d been her own woman, made decisions, and looked after her father as well. She didn’t need Rafael telling her what to do. Yet she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had fussed over her, and if she had to be honest, it didn’t feel too bad.
She hadn’t been in his study before, and took the opportunity to look around. Against the far wall stood an ornate, antique, writing desk, inlaid with green leather, matching the chesterfield. By the side of the desk was an embossed leather attaché case, quite fine-looking. Kat stared at the ornate desk. Confidential documents would be kept there; maybe even stuff about Finery & Frocks.
She tried looking away, tried hard to ignore it, but couldn’t. After a few moments, Kat stood, and wandered to it. She ran her fingers defiantly across the top, hardly registering the antique wood, smoothed to perfection, or the rich patina the years of polishing had produced. Very slowly, afraid of making a noise, she opened the desk drawer and peered inside. Blood pounded in her ears. She rifled several documents, but there was nothing, and she closed it again.
She leaned on the desk, breathing hard, guilty, disappointed, but happy that she had dared.
Beneath, was a small cupboard, and after regaining her composure, she searched through it, but again there was nothing. He shouldn’t have left her alone.
Where else to look? Something could be inside the attaché case. Kat flipped it open. Her heart almost stopped. Now she wished she’d never thought of looking in the damn thing. Inside was a file with her father’s name in bold letters across the front.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Hysterically, she snapped the attaché case shut, threw things into place, lay down on the chesterfield again and plastered a smile on her face.
Rafael opened the door and came over. He said, “The doctor will call soon. Would you like a shower first?”
She nodded, but her conscience twanged like mad. Deep down she supposed she hoped to find nothing. The file had spoiled things.
“I’ll come to the room with you.”
“I’m quite capable.” She swallowed hard, her voice full of nerves.
“I don’t want you keeling over whilst my back is turned.”
She tried to smile. “Is this an excuse to come with me into the shower as well, in case I keel over?”
“Of course not.” He looked at her with concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course, why?”
“You seem… strange.”
“Do I? Maybe it’s shaken me up more than I thought.”
He followed her through to the bedroom, opened the door for her then turned on his heel. “I’ll be in the lounge when you’ve finished, if you’d care to join me.”
“Is there a robe I could borrow, for when the doctor comes? I didn’t expect to need one.”
“I’ll fetch one.”
Kat watched as he walked away. After he’d disappeared, she closed the door and leaned her head on it. That damn file made her all of a shake.
Shortly after she’d showered, the doctor arrived, and Rafael brought him to her room. He gave her an examination, but didn’t think there was anything to worry about. When he left, she went to the lounge. Rafael ran his eye over the robe as she approached.
“Don’t dare say anything,” she warned. “I didn’t think it worth getting dressed again. It will have to do.”
“Would you like a drink?”
“Mm. A brandy please.”
He offered up a bottle of Martell in one hand and a bottle of Soberano in the other. She nodded to the Martell. He said. “The robe doesn’t seem the best of fits does it?”
“You’re not wrong.”
“It’s one of mine. Momia must have taken both of hers. Either that, or Aliaga has one in the wash.”
Kat already knew it was his, because when she squeezed it to her she could smell him on it.
Rafael poured a Martell. “Mixer?”
She shook her head.
He poured himself a stiff measure of the same and added several ice cubes and a slice of lemon.
“That’s an unusual combination,” she said. “I thought you were supposed to warm a brandy glass in your hands to release the bouquet.”
“Maybe I’m an unusual person.”
“Tell me more.”
“Ah! That comes with time. It doesn’t do to let one’s secrets out all at once.”
He carried the drink for her and they arranged themselves on an enormous sheepskin rug, which lay in front of the fire. Kat fingered the luxurious fleece. “This is delicious, like being swathed in a huge teddy-bear.”
Rafael grinned as he raised his drink to her. “Salud!” The glow from the fire made his face ruddy. He said, “So what did the doctor say?”
“The usual stuff. He gave me a once-over, asked a few questions, but he thinks I’ll be all right. If I feel ill I have to ring, otherwise he said to call at the surgery sometime to see how I’m going on. But I don’t feel bad.”
He tipped the glass to his lips, took a drink then placed it down. “I would say the problem is how you define, bad.”
She glanced quickly. Rafael was using his damn eyes. They were on her. Kat became guarded. “And what definition would you use?”
“Well, I suppose some people would say that being bad is good.”
“But the doctor thinks that being bad is bad?”
“And you, do you think that, Kat?”
She put the glass safe out of the way and gave a laugh. “I don’t really want to think anything. Thinking can be prejudicial.”
“Well I certainly don’t want to say the wrong thing, especially to a beautiful lady. Which is what I’m in the habit of doing just lately.”
“Beautiful? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Very beautiful.” He planted a chaste kiss on her forehead.
She jumped as a log settled and the fire spat. Absurd as it was, her stupid heart wouldn’t stop skipping.
“I must say I think quite a lot about this sort of thing though.” Rafael’s voice became gruff. “I think it’s quite agreeable, barring interruptions from the fire.”
Kat tried to smile, but no smile would come, as if her sentiments were too battered to function. This whole Rafael thing made a mess her senses. She wanted him, didn’t want him. Desired him, hated him. What the hell was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she be like a normal woman? Quite deliberately she pushed him down, straddled him, and holding his face between her hands, plunged her tongue into his mouth.
When she at last allowed him air, Rafael lifted his head. “Well…” His grin became mischievous. “There seems something in my favour, though heaven knows what.”
His body felt warm and comforting against hers. All she wanted was Señor Rafael Saval. She needed him quite badly.
His hands were touching hers.
The log finally collapsed and a shower of sparks shot up the chimney. For a moment they were both startled then laughing at each other’s expression.
He said, “I must remember to use a portable gas heater next time, there are less unexpected happenings with them.”
He was inside her robe, touching bare flesh. A ripple of pleasure undulated through her as he traced small circles on her belly. The sensation tugged at the internal strings that ran to her groin. He moved his hand until he cupped her breast then gently touched a nipple.
The strings to her groin convulsed, and Kat began shaking deep inside.
He eased the robe from her shoulders and slipped it to one side. Her breasts were exposed. He delicately caressed them; fondled her, cupped each breast in turn. It became difficult for her to breathe, as if her lungs had forgotten to function. She felt crazy, desperate to have him inside her. Thinking about it made her dizzy.
She wanted to shout his name repeatedly, an incantation learned long ago, half forgotten.
Say it, say it; say his name.
She dragged her fingers through his hair, pulled his head close so his face was on her bare stomach, his coarse hair erotic against her breasts. It would be so easy to take him inside her, to bring them into oneness.
Say it, say it; say his name.
She remembered how he used to plunge deep inside her; it had been the epitome of paradise. Could she share paradise with him again?
Rafael’s hot mouth closed on the underside of her breast. His lips moved over her, kissing, kissing. He lifted his head and his tongue touched one of her nipples.
She drew a breath, involuntarily. The string to her groin jerked, and she felt a shuddering wave, as if something had been physically torn from her body. It shouldn’t happen so quickly. She lay for a moment, absolutely overwhelmed as intense waves of pleasure washed through her.
She put her hand inside his silk shirt and felt his muscles tighten. Primeval parts within her ached to possess him.
Rafael’s mouth covered hers again, mobile, searching. His hand caught the bottom of her robe and tugged. The material crept up her leg. She became aware each time it moved, her skin peculiarly sensitized, so she felt each hair disturbed as the gown lifted.
She started to panic. Why was she in panic? What was the matter with her? If she wanted him so much, why did she feel like this?
Rafael recognized her need for calm and they parted and lay in silence for a while looking into the fire, but even the pictures she conjured in the flames were erotic. He brought something out of her that without him simply didn’t exist. It was frightening how he managed it.
She thought she was in control, when had it changed?
He kissed the top of her head. “This is the stuff dreams are made of.”
Kat gulped. This was getting heavy.
He said, “What do you dream of? Tell me what goes on in your head whilst you sleep.”
He didn’t know what he asked, her dreams made her ashamed. Her dreams could never be shared. She turned and buried her head against his chest. She said softly, “Hold me.”
“You’re so beautiful,” he said gruffly.
“Don’t.” She put her finger to his lips to shush him. “I don’t want you to say anything else. Don’t say things you might regret.”
He kissed the tips of her fingers. “But you are.”
She felt close to tears. “Why are you talking like this? You’re spoiling things.”
“I wouldn’t spoil anything.”
His fingers found the apex of her legs and touched the thin lace of her panties. Kat opened her eyes and realised with some surprise that he was as sensitively charged as she was.
His fingers were inside her panties, moving gently, finding a way through folds of skin, pushing deep into her. Kat shook uncontrollably. She was exceptionally wet. He would realise how much she wanted him.
This shouldn’t be happening. She pulled away. “I never meant for things to go this far,” she said stupidly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
God! What had she done now? This was twice. He must think terrible things of her. Was she a deliberate tease? She’d never thought of herself as a tease. She desperately hoped he didn’t think so. She didn’t mean to be, yet she couldn’t go through with it.
Rafael straightened.
She groped for the top of the bathrobe and pulled it to, and tried to keep her voice even. “It’s not your fault,” she said awkwardly. “I’m to blame. I should’ve stopped us earlier.”
He wasn’t angry, as she expected, just the opposite. He said, “You’re not well. I was stupid to let it go this far. I’m sorry.”
Kat opened her mouth then clamped her jaw shut again. She could have dealt with anger, but not compassion. She couldn’t cope with kindness, didn’t want understanding, she wanted fury. She could fight fury.
“It won’t be long, Kat,” he said gently. “It’s buried, it’s there. I can wait as long as you wish.”
“Even I don’t know what I want,” she said shakily.
Rafael released her. “I don’t think you know the kind of woman you are do you?”
“Oh I know that all right.” Kat knew exactly what she was, and it made her sick. She clutched the robe to her breasts. Rafael reached out a hand to support her. “Don’t,” she stammered, and snatched her hand away. “Just don’t touch me.”
“I only wanted to help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Look!” he said awkwardly. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened. I accept the blame. It won’t happen again unless you want. I promise.”
There was something vulnerable about him now. She’d done this to him. All the men around her got hurt in the end. She was her mother’s daughter, all right.
How could she explain? His closeness made her crazy, or did she make herself crazy? She had to drive the demons away somehow, and do it soon.
“And I’m sorry too, Rafael,” she said miserably. “It isn’t you, it’s me. It’s always been me. I put a curse on everyone I get involved with. I’ve already done it to you once. I’ve always been like this, I always will be and that’s all there is to it.”
“That’s utter rubbish.”
“It’s something I’ve known about forever.”
He said softly, “What is it that you think so terrible?”
“It’s from when I was little… Let it go,” she said. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I can’t let it go, Kat,” he said carefully. “Not now. Try me.”
Kat gulped. “Mum, dad, me. Let’s just say that once I didn’t understand then I did… Leave it at that. Just accept I have a problem. It’s something only I can deal with.”
“And are you dealing with it?”
She shook her head and buried herself in his arms. Why she’d told him as much she had, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as if it made her feel better, just foolish.
“I don’t know what it is, but it sounds as though you’re putting yourself through hell.”
His arms were safe and enveloping, no threat. He held her for an age, rocking comfortingly.
She began to feel calm, yet seemed to want him even more. She understood then, that it was too late to turn back. She pushed herself to her knees, slipped her panties off then opened her robe wide because she knew he liked to look at her. She threw the robe to one side. She knelt over him with her knees straddling his belly, her legs wide.
“Katrina…” he whispered.
She said, “Don’t speak.” She was close to tears again; she mustn’t cry, not now.
“Kat, are you sure about this?”
“And please don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I won’t.”
“Just understand that I can’t give anything more. No promises. No future. No strings… And don’t tell me you love me,” she said in a small voice, “Please don’t say that.”
“My sweet Katrina, I adore you.” Rafael touched her, as if a wild bird that might fly at a sudden movement. “I’ll never do anything to hurt you, don’t you know. I won’t make demands. I’ll just be here when you want me. I’ll be your rock. No strings, I swear.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Rafael,” she said hoarsely. “Take me, just this once. Don’t ask me again though. There can be no repeat performances.”