chapter 6
Rafael came through the door. Kat made an issue of checking her nails, striving to be casual. They were adults and should behave like ones. Last night should make no difference to their working relationship.
She glanced his way, making no difference might be a challenge, considering his appearance. He looked particularly sexy, made her insides smoky. She concentrated on her nails again.
They’d spent the whole night together. After all, to have gone back to her room after the intense session on the beautiful white rug, would have been churlish. The night turned into the most incredible of her life, although she could never allow a repeat.
Rafael closed the door. He said, “Hi! You’re looking good. You okay?”
Kat nodded, throat taut. She’d only returned to her room in the early hours, to get dressed.
He came across and brushed his lips over her head.
She swallowed. He’d agreed last night should be a one-off; she couldn’t cope with more. “Rafael,” she said, awkward. “About last night. I realise I was to blame, but I got carried away.”
“You’re having regrets?”
“Not regrets, but I want us to leave it at that. I did explain to you.”
“I respect what you said, I promise.” He pulled out a chair. “I’d like to talk over a couple of ideas if that’s all right.”
Kat nodded. She had to make sure she didn’t make a pig’s ear of everything. She couldn’t get this wrong because of personal problems; Dad would be back to square one. She put coffee into the espresso machine, added water and switched on.
Rafael followed her every movement. His eyes had an enigmatic quality, something about the morning light, or perhaps because he recalled what happened last night.
He said, “I’ve been thinking. With your permission, I’d like to use my resources to try to trace where your mother is.”
Kat’s head jerked up. She didn’t want anyone discovering what she’d discovered. “I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“Wouldn’t you like to hear her side of things?”
“No purpose will be served. Nothing will change.”
“Knowledge always changes things,” he said. “However insignificant, information has an effect, no matter what we think.”
Kat squeezed her eyes. For some stupid reason, last night as they’d lain in bed she’d said things she never should, things she’d kept secret. Why had she talked about them, why to him of all people?
Sex, and the relaxation afterward, had caused her to blab; unjustifiable, and stupid. She said, “It won’t change me. Mum disappeared when I was a kid. She didn’t want me. End of story.”
“I realise you had a painful experience, but perhaps we can work around it.”
“The legacy she left is quite enough, thank you very much. I want nothing more from her.”
“Legacy?” A frown flitted across his face.
“Never mind.” Kat clamped up, glad some sense of self-preservation had made her keep some things from him last night.
“But it might change the way you look at yourself and life.”
“I don’t think so. I fully recognize what’s wrong with my life.”
“Do you?”
What do you want me to do? Admit my failures? I suppose you consider confession good for the soul… or do you enjoy prying?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I suppose you think by owning to making a mess of things, I’ll rid myself of monsters? Well I confess; I foul up. Okay? Satisfied? Look, my mother deserted me when I was young, and I’m screwed up. That’s enough.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” he said in a quiet voice.
“But you want me to admit my love life is a mess.”
“Now you’re being deliberately obtuse.”
“I thought last night would have made you realise what an emotional dwarf you’re dealing with.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Forget last night; I told you more than I should.”
“Jesus Christ! Your self-esteem really has hit the bottom? What the hell’s going on?”
Kat glared defiantly. She hated pity, despised solicitousness. She said, rigid, “I can face reality. I don’t need sympathy.”
“Is that what you call it? I would hardly put my feelings into that category.”
Katrina had the impression she was falling into a trap. She didn’t care. “So, you would call it what? Charity? Señor, I don’t need that either. I give charity, I don’t accept it.” She spun away.
He caught her by the shoulders. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to my room. Any objections?”
“My God! You’ve really no idea what you’re about, have you? You put yourself on a pedestal that most men wouldn’t have the heart to climb.”
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough climbing for most men? You climbed right inside me last night, or don’t you remember?” Kat swung away, her eyes closed to shut his image away; determined not to let him see the effect he had, determined not to let tears spill.
“Wait! There’s something else.”
“Sexual favours? I told you, last night was a one-night-stand. Passion didn’t come into it; no emotion, a simple fulfilment of a bodily function that will never happen again.”
“I seriously doubt any of that.” His lips became thin and tight. “But I was thinking more of your creative genius. I want to salvage the designs our people made a botch, perhaps bring different fabric into the equation. You told me for the designs to work they needed a good quality silk.”
“I thought I’d already explained. I’m not for sale. I come with the territory, that’s all. I’ve enough on.”
“But if territories change. What then? Would you still be so adamant about not working on the designs?”
“Territories?” She eyed him, suddenly nervous. The image of the file in the attaché case loomed large. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“We need get around a couple of tricky points, but things are on the move.”
“The decision has been made? Is the contract going through if the points can be cleared?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“When will you know?”
“A couple of small things need sorting. But if everything’s okay, we’ll want your input over here and in the UK. Call your post a roving design consultant, creating overall ideas, others doing the leg-work.”
Kat felt an overwhelming rush of satisfaction. She could almost have hugged him. “Shall I have to call you, sir?”
He grinned. “If you really want to. So I presume you’re prepared to work on our stuff if things turn out okay?”
***
His cell-phone beeped. Dawn had not yet broken and Rafael yawned sleepily as he flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Rafael, how are you keeping? We haven’t spoken for ages.”
Rafael frowned. Eduardo Garcia never phoned him, not unless he wanted to use him, or haul him over the coals. He said with caution, “I’m fine, I guess. You?”
“Great, great.”
“So what are you after?”
“You make me sound avaricious …” Eduardo gave a laugh. “Why should I be after something?”
“Because you never call otherwise.
Another laugh. “Well I must admit I have been thinking…”
“I thought so. What are you after this time?”
“Well I wondered about that project of yours… I might be able to do you a favour after all.”
“Is that so?”
“Well my accountant tells me I have a little spare cash, and I got to thinking… My old friend Rafael wanted some help. Perhaps I can be the one to help him out…”
“You are way too late, Eduardo. The offer is no longer open.”
A pause… “What do you mean?”
“The offer is withdrawn. Las Modas Ibéricas is going ahead with the negotiations after all.”
“I thought your Papá was not interested.”
“He finally recognized a good thing when he saw it. The same as you by the sound of it…” Rafael closed the phone, suppressing a grin. He’d wanted to do something like that forever. Stick that where it hurts, Eduardo.
***
Kat awoke to the noise of banging of pots and pans. Daybreak filtered through the window. She slipped on a top, a pair of culottes, ran a brush through her hair and made her way to the kitchen.
Most dress designs had been fairly easy to change; an added sketch here, a note there. One had needed a rethink because of handling the fabric, but even that hadn’t been too much effort. A little work had seen them mostly finished. The proof would be in the made-up outfits, but instinct told her they would give the effect she hoped for.
Rafael put saucepans away as she opened the kitchen door. Some were still on the floor. She said. “Having problems?”
“They were in a damn stupid place, piled on top of each other. It would happen, whoever opened the cupboard door.”
“But you copped it.”
“It isn’t funny. It bloody well hurt… I woke you I suppose.”
She yawned. “Yes! You’re the guilty one. What are you doing up so early?”
Rafael inspected one of the pans. The enamel had chipped. “I shall have to leave Aliaga a note about this. I hate damaged kitchenware, damn unhygienic.” He lifted the kitchen bin and dropped the pan in. “I wanted an early start. I’ve a few things to do.” He rubbed his head. “Have I been cut?”
“Don’t be such a wimp.” She examined him but there was nothing and she waved him away. “I’ll make breakfast, whilst you put them away. How come you didn’t get Aliaga to do it for you?”
“It’s early. I didn’t want to put her out.” He tossed a key to her. “If you really want to help, you can fetch the decanter from the study and pack it for me. It’s on the writing desk. I need Aliaga to take it into Calpe for repair. The silver base is damaged.”
Kat unlocked the room and found the decanter on the desk. She had not been in since her fall. She paused, glanced over her shoulder to check for Rafael then closed the door quietly. She nervously opened the embossed leather attaché case, and pulled out the file. Would she identify the sticking points? Could she pass it on to Dad? Kat heard a sound and swivelled around.
Rafael stood by the door watching. He said quietly, “Kat?”
“I spotted the file with Dad’s name on,” she stammered.
“And concluded you had certain rights?” He walked over and took the file from her, and leaned with both hands on the desk. “Shall I open it? Shall I read to you? There’s nothing to cause excitement. What did you think might be there?”
Kat shook her head miserably. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interfered. I was just curious.”
“We know what happened when the cat got curious,” Rafael laid the file down. “I came to ask if you’d like to tag along.”
“Tag along?”
“You have a good stomach?”
Kat’s head was in a jumble. “Why would I need a good stomach?”
“I’ve arranged a trial-run on a yacht for the day. I’m thinking of buying a similar one. I thought I’d better have a test first.”
“Why on earth do you want me to go? I won’t be any help. I’ll be in the way.”
“For the experience. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
“I will?”
“Come. Grab some things and we’ll go.”
“What sort of things? What will I need?”
He pulled a face. “Just something you feel easy in. Don’t wear your Sunday-best though.”
***
The powerful Lamborghini pulled to a halt at the top of the ridge, kicking dry soil into clouds. Rafael could see for miles. He jumped out of the car and shielded his eyes. From the scrub of the middle distance through to the horizon it shimmered with heat.
He glanced toward Kat. She peered through the car window, still awkward about being caught in his study. He supposed he would have done the same, had he been in the same position. She ought to have guessed he didn’t keep important stuff at home, though.
God, what a dilemma the woman was! Half the time, he felt his brain was exploding into his trousers. He had to get over this juvenile obsession somehow. He couldn’t help wanting her, but he’d made a promise.
Now he understood a little about her, it made him protective, and that was scarce. For years, he’d been a shit to women. He wasn’t proud of it.
Something about her life unsettled him. Her outburst made him realise there was more than she’d first let on. Whether or not she agreed, he was going to use whatever resources he could. He was going to track down her mother and learn what had gone on.
Kat stepped out of the car and stretched.
She didn’t realise, but the contract would go through on her ability alone. They desperately needed her skills. The cutting edge, which once kept them at the front, was no longer quite so cutting. They were one step behind the competitors and didn’t know why. Maybe Papá had lost his touch. For the business to maintain its position, they needed special input.
Kat’s genius might just provide that input. Had things been different, she might have headed her own empire. Rafael arched his fingers. He doubted if she understood her potential. This needed a Machiavellian strategy to make it work.
Way below them, a stretch of narrow valley sandwiched a dry riverbed, which in the distance, widened to meet the sea. Close by, safe above the flood-plain, a cluster of old villas stood bone-white in the sun. On the flat roof of one, a line of washing flapped, laconic.
Rafael tested the air currents with a wet finger and nodded. “It’ll make a good day,” he said. “We don’t want too much breeze.”
Kat leaned on the roof of the Lamborghini without enthusiasm. She said, “I’d prefer there to be none.”
It took another twenty minutes to reach the tiny harbour. A handful of fishing smacks and rowing boats waltzed to the idle movements of the estuary. The yacht dwarfed everything, gleaming in the sun. His would be the twin. Under construction in the yards, it had the most thrilling line he’d ever seen in a yacht. He’d called in several times, but still it gave him a buzz to see this one in the finished state. He’d been obsessed with boats for as long as he could remember, since he’d been for a spin on his uncle’s yacht, as a boy.
“It’s bigger than I imagined,” Kat said.
He shrugged. “They often are; especially when you see what’s below deck.”
The yacht was white with a blue flash, loads of chrome, high mast, and a sleek glass enclosure surrounding the wheelhouse. The lines were beautiful, a rich man’s toy, but Papá was a rich man, and indulged him.
He waved to a group of men who lounged nearby. “Let’s get this thing going.” He turned to Kat. “They’ll take us out. When I know the ropes they’ll turn us free.”
“By ourselves?” Kat turned to him and frowned. “We’re going to be alone in that thing? Suppose we get stuck, what then?”
“It has all the latest gizmos; radio with backup; distress beacon; satellite navigation system. Why should we be stuck? This is a sophisticated piece of technology. I’ve been handling yachts forever, and this is the best yet.”
“However much does a thing like this cost?”
Rafael laughed. “That’s hardly the thing you ask a gentleman. And does it matter anyway?”
“Well it looks like a street full of houses to me.”
“And what would I do with a street full of houses? I can’t sail a house.”
“And you can’t raise a family on a yacht.”
A teenager brought a speedboat to the jetty in a flurry of spray and bravado. Rafael said, “Come on. This will take us to the yacht. Your coach awaits milady.”
It swayed as they got in, and Kat clutched for support. Rafael realised she really did not like it. When they were under way, she looked around as if searching for an escape. The boat chopped crazily when the teenager gunned the engine. He was quite mad with it. Rafael frowned heavily in his direction but failed to get his attention. He decided against making an issue in case she became upset, so he just held her hand for comfort. Luckily they fast closed on the yacht. It looked even more striking up close.
He helped Kat and she grabbed the short ladder on the yacht, hanging on the rungs as if for dear life. Rafael helped her until she was over. The problem was with everything in motion; he didn’t know what to do to help her. She looked as if she hated every minute, and he began to realise it had been a mistake on his part.
While the men showed Rafael around, Kat leaned against the rail. He kept a wary eye on her. It seemed to take an age, but finally the crew left, and Rafael went to her. He leaned with his elbows on the edge of the rail by her side and tried to jolly her along. “Well me-hearty,” he growled. “It be over to us now. Be you up for it?”
Kat glanced at the swell heaving the yacht. Rafael suspected it was the last thing she wanted, but she thrust out her chin with determination. “I see no reason to delay.”
Rafael was pleased with her response. “Good! We be weighing anchor soon. If there be hankie-pankie, I shall rig out the plank, and you shall walk it.”
“Rafael,” she hesitated. “About the file this morning, I’m sorry… I meant no harm. I couldn’t help but be inquisitive.”
“Forget it.”
“Listen, I’ve been thinking. I’m in the way of your everyday business. I’m taking up an awful lot of your time, and things are probably screwed back home. Perhaps I should return, to help them out. I’ve finished the draft designs. Your team will be able to take over quite easily.”
That was the last thing he wanted. “I hardly think so,” he said, searching for reasons for her to stay. “I looked them over. You’ll want to see the job through, surely.”
“I’ve finished what you asked.”
“I think we should go ahead with detailed designs. I’d rather you did them… in case of mistakes. We should get the team behind you, to speed things up. They can follow your instructions.”
“Why have I the impression I’m being manipulated?”
“We could even create a separate label,” he said impulsively. “Have it registered; perhaps call it Katrina Bligh at Saval. How does that sound? Italian Concept could be marketed under the label.”
“My name on a label?” Kat felt a surge of excitement. “And why would you do that?”
“Listen, your name associated with ours will give the industry a shot in the arm.” He took a fancy to the idea as he spoke. “Just imagine the speculation, and the free publicity it will bring when they hit the catwalks.”
“You think so?”
“Kat, ambitions are damn precious and mustn’t be lost.”
“And your Papá? What will he think?”
He waved his hand indifferently. “For once he’s given me a fairly free rein. I think he’s grooming me to take over. He’s probably feeling his age, although he’d never admit it… Look,” he said, warming to the idea now. “I know I was a blockhead trying to seduce you. Don’t let my selfish conduct stand in your way. I shouldn’t have allowed my emotions to run out of control. I behaved unprofessionally.”
“Maybe it wasn’t selfish.” She touched his hand. “Maybe it’s me. I don’t seem to know what I want.” Her voice softened with affection. “Things between us can’t ever be the way you want it though. You do understand don’t you?”
“I think so.” He looked at her levelly. “I suppose I had this crazy notion of taking up where we left off. I let my emotions run away, and I’m sorry.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“Don’t let it prevent what you’re doing, Kat. You have something special going for you. Who knows where it could end if these lines take off. The world could be your oyster.”
Kat laughed. “This sounds dangerously like teenage dreams to me.”
“And why not?”
“Why not, indeed.”
He looked over the rails. Around Kat, his chemistry went into tangles. What kind of person was he to allow himself to be caught up like this? He couldn’t help it though; anyway, it sounded a damned good idea, and sounded better by the minute. He said carefully, “Look Kat, I’m not going to make you do anything that you don’t want. That’s not my scene.”
“You mean things like sailing in this thing?”
“Hardly.” Rafael smiled at her humour. “I realise there’s too much to lose by pushing you, so all that’s done with. I’ve pushed my last bit.”
He leaned with his back against the supports, watching her, waiting for a reaction; head high with dignity, wondering what was going through her mind.
She didn’t say anything more though, and eventually he clambered over the deck and disappeared into the wheelhouse. A deep-throated roar came from the engine, settled then growled. He put the drive into forward, opened the gas, and the screw bit into water. The boat surged under his feet, the bow lifted, and they were rushing out into the open sea.
Great swathes of white foam spewed behind them. This is what he’d come for, the excitement of commanding the open water. The yacht contained so much power, so much class that he felt like yelling into the wind. He would lose himself in the thrill of this and forget Kat.
He looked through the curved glass enclosure to Kat holding tight onto the rail. For about ten minutes he kept the yacht on a straight line out to sea, until the shoreline dropped away then he killed the motors, the bow dipped, they slowed, and became swathed in silence.
He leaned out and shouted enthusiastically, “Isn’t this great!” Her scathing look meant she probably didn’t agree. He came out after a few moments, released the ropes, and operated the electric sail system. A great sheet of canvas unfurled above them. The contraption stirred for a few moments, then like an immense wakening giant, the sail billowed, filled then tugged them forward.
Rafael lashed the rope around a stainless brace. They were borne along the breeze, cutting gracefully through waves. He went to her side and raised an eyebrow in question. She tilted her head to one side in concurrence, the only sound, the hiss of water against the hull.
He gave a grin of pure joy. “Are you okay now?” She nodded and he took her hand and led her into the wheelhouse, and placed a hand over the wheel. “Here. Hold on to this, and if you think we’re going the wrong way give it a spin.”
“What do you mean? I don’t know what to do. How do I know if we’re going the wrong way?”
“Keep the wind in the sail. You’ll see.”
He removed some croissants from a picnic basket, put a couple in a napkin and handed them her, uncorked a bottle of wine and poured both of them a glass. “We’ll call this a late breakfast. I think we deserve one.”
“Breakfast?” She gave a laugh. “Then where’s my toast?”
“Hold the croissant in the sun long enough and it’ll toast.”
“What shall we drink to?”
“Whatever you like... Life?” He lifted the glass. “Here’s to life.”
“I can’t say that I’ve ever had wine for breakfast before. Croissants yes, wine, no.”
“Let’s drink to that. Wine for breakfast, and may there be many more of them.” Rafael went to adjust the boom, wiped his hands, and took the wheel from her. Now they were under way. He wanted to see how responsive the yacht was. He spun the enormous wheel; tacked back and forth along the wind, the sail constantly trimmed by remote electric drives.
The manoeuvres brought them closer to the shoreline. Goats grazed on the outskirts of a pine thicket, unaware of their presence as they glided past.
He filled the glasses again and said, “I suppose we ought to have more respect for good wine than this. Papá would call this a sacrilege. He says that good wine is like a good woman. It mellows with age, but needs handling with care, otherwise it becomes sour. He always classifies woman with wine.”
Kat gave a laugh. “You think I need handling with care, I suppose?”
“Papa’s words not mine.”
“So what’s your opinion of me? Into which category of wine do I fall?”
He considered her. “Well you’re not champagne. You aren’t the bubbly type. You’re smooth, fine-bodied, the kind that needs to be savoured carefully to appreciate the quality, the best Chablis perhaps? The merit of the finest wine is found in its subtlety.”
She laughed. “You think I’m subtle? I’ve never been called subtle.”
“It’s only when you’ve savoured outstanding wines, that true value becomes apparent.”
“You’ve tasted lots I suppose?”
He ignored the dig. “Every tasting elicits greater eminence. When that happens, I generally find I want to go on until the bottle is finished.”
Kat smiled with amusement. “And you’re comparing me to Chablis?”
“Only the best vintage. That’s what you’re like.”
Kat smiled again, and turned to watch the shore. A small boy stood at the water’s edge gazing at them and she waved. He waved back then ran out of sight. She said, “Thank you for bringing me. I didn’t think it’d be like this. I didn’t like it at first, but I’m happy now.” She slipped her arm through his and leaned her head comfortably on his shoulder.
“I’m glad. I must admit I didn’t fancy doing it alone, this is an experience you need to share.”
He looked fondly down at her. She gazed at him peculiarly, which stirred his groin. He linked his fingers through hers, holding her at a cautious distance. “Kat, you know I want you like hell. Please don’t play games. Don’t look at me like that.”
The yacht lurched and Rafael broke away and went to the controls.
She watched what he was doing. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem. It’s the currents and wind fighting.”
It swayed again. She clutched him for support.
That was a problem. He glanced her way. He couldn’t risk making an idiot of himself again. She’d made it plain there was nowhere his infatuation could go.
Rafael swung the yacht into the current to meet it head-on to reduce its effect, operated the auto mechanism, and took up the canvas. He stooped to the basket, poured more wine into the glasses, and held one out to her. She took a glass from him and swirled it before taking a sip.
He said, “You’re trying to commit me to memory I take it?”
“Pardon?” She looked slightly misty.
He laughed. “You were staring.”
“I’m sorry! I was thinking.”
“Something nice, I hope.”
“Maybe!”
She came closer. His body involuntarily reacted, but he was helpless; tried to think of other things, hoped she didn’t notice his erection.
The yacht swayed yet again pushing them together. Rafael broke away almost immediately as their bodies touched. “I’ll stow the sail,” he said gruffly. “It’s becoming windy. We’ll run back on engines. I think I’ll drop anchor for a while, and we can take in lunch.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I’m sure there’ll be a restaurant close by. There’s a mooring over there, so there’s bound to be something.”
Kat said, “Or I can knock a meal up in the galley?”
“Mm… I think I’d like that. I’ll stow things away, then I’ll be with you.” He moved to the stern to attend to the canvas. She leaned over the rails and watched water slapping the hull. After he’d finished they stood together. He said, “Okay, that’s all seen to.”
Kat stared at her fingers. “Rafael, I don’t regret for one moment what happened between us. I don’t know how to cope, that’s all. You do understand, don’t you?”
“Does it need coping with?”
She nodded silently.
He looked out. In the distance, a group of people gathered around a barbecue on the beach. They were too far to see clearly, but their voices carried on the wind. A knot of villas overlooked the sea from a hilltop, and Rafael idly wondered if they were local or on vacation. He said carefully, “So you’re not pushing me out of your life?”
“I’m not rejecting you, Rafael. I just don’t know what to do. Things seem constantly out of control. I can’t handle not being in control.”
Rafael understood about control. As far as Kat was concerned, he’d long since lost it. Wanting to be with her wasn’t logical. He knew he was stupid, but he was obsessed.
She lifted her chin, her wrap slightly open revealing soft skin beneath. “I just don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
“I’m not going to tell you I don’t want you in my life, Kat,” he said awkwardly. “I do. More than I ought. I know you don’t want me to say so but I can’t help it. I’m sorry. I won’t do anything you don’t want though. Don’t worry.”
She nodded.
Rafael couldn’t deny his lust. It spilled urgently inside him, but the power she had over him was extraordinary. He wouldn’t break his word.
A light wind tousled her hair and he pulled strands from her face, choked with desire, needing to hold her, to protect her. He said, “You really are beautiful.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say those things, Rafael.” Kat laid her cheek against his chest. “I don’t want you saying things you don’t mean.”
“When you were a youngster,” he said carefully. “Your mother… There was a problem?”
Katrina didn’t look up.
He said, “These things you leave unspoken. If you share them you might come to terms.”
She fell silent for a while then said, “I overheard Dad telling some of his friends about her, one night.”
“And?”
She scrubbed tears from her eyes with the back of a hand. “I can’t talk about it.”
Damn! What was he doing, what was he putting her through? He said, “I’m sorry.”
She took out a handkerchief, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “It’s okay.”
Seeing her so vulnerable made him want to make love. Logic and reason didn’t come into it. Jeez! He was insensitive, but he wanted Kat, more than any woman he’d ever wanted. If solving the problem with her mother would help him get there, that’s what he’d do.
The boat rocked. Kat snuggled to him. Her hair smelled like summer. He said thickly, “I’m sorry if I upset you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It’s just that I want to learn every little thing about you.”
To the left, within his field of vision, a gull circled, its wingtips trimming occasionally to match air-currents. It swooped quite near, looking for scraps.
Kat put both of her arms around his waist.
Rafael felt crazy. All he could think about was peeling her clothes off. He wanted to see her breasts, to touch them, to caress them. He wanted to taste her.
“I want to hold you,” she whispered. “Talking will have to wait.” She pressed her face against him, her voice muffled. “Rafael, do you promise not to expect too much of me.”
“I’ve already said so.”
“Do you really mean it? Can you tolerate a relationship with no strings?”
“I’ve said so.”
“There can be no future,” she said quickly. “You know, don’t you? I’ll walk away one day without saying why; if I do you mustn’t try to find me.”
Rafael insides turned topsy-turvy. “I can’t pretend to understand why, but if those are the rules…”
“They are.”
She squeezed him tightly, but his heart sank. He could have taken her right then on the open sea, but there would be no lovemaking yet. “Kat!” he sighed wearily. “I guess we have visitors.”
She turned to follow his gaze. Bearing close across their bow was another yacht and it showed every sign of anchoring.