One More Sleepless Night

TWELVE



Apparently it did because a week later Nicky was back at the cortijo with Rafael, and she was loving every minute of it.

And why wouldn’t she be when she was being so well attended to? she thought, feeling a sleepy satisfied smile spread across her face as she yawned and stretched gingerly so as not to wake Rafael, who was still asleep beside her.

Since they’d been back he’d been pretty much the perfect host. Not only had he made sure she was well fed and well rested, but he’d kept her entertained too. He’d taken her to the beach and taught her the basics of kite surfing. He’d driven her up into the coolness of the hills to a fabulous little restaurant overlooking a sparkling lake and fed her lobster. He’d spent an afternoon showing her round the vineyards and explaining how the fino she’d acquired quite a taste for was made. And then yesterday he’d asked her if she’d like to help with the harvest and they’d spent the day cutting away fat heavy bunches of grapes, until she couldn’t bear her aching back any longer and had begged him for a massage.

As for the nights—and the siestas—well, those were something else. Nicky had always thought she’d had an active and relatively adventurous sex life but sleeping with Rafael took it to a whole new level. Over and over again she hit heights she’d never reached before, experiencing pleasure she hadn’t known existed. The lavish attention he paid her body and the wild intensity with which he devoured her blew her mind every time.

She didn’t regret telling him all about her recent history one little bit. Back then, sitting on his bed in Madrid in the wake of that extraordinary afternoon, it had felt like the ideal opportunity to test her emotional strength, and it had been everything she’d hoped for.

Opening up to him had been wonderfully liberating and that feeling of relief and freedom still lingered so she’d had no problem with answering the dozens of other questions he had about what had happened. She’d happily spilled out the details he’d asked for and at some point during the last week she’d felt something shift inside her. Something heavy dissipate. And she rather thought that at last—finally—she seemed to be getting over what had happened to her.

How she’d ever imagined that she and Rafael had nothing in common other than Gaby and a dislike of complicated relationships Nicky would never know. Apart from being astonishingly compatible in bed, they shared a love of the outdoors and travel. Of good food and hard work. Of books and art. Intrigued, she’d interrogated him about his fascination with plants and he’d been equally curious about her unconventional upbringing.

They seemed to be able to talk, laugh and argue about virtually everything under the sun. In fact pretty much the only thing that they hadn’t talked about was his marriage, and it sat between them like the proverbial elephant in the room. Or at least her corner of the room because, while Rafael was no doubt perfectly happy to leave it alone, she was becoming quite obsessed with wanting to know all about it.

As she’d got to know him better, she’d found herself wondering what kind of husband he’d been, what his wife had been like, what kind of marriage they’d had and why it had failed. None of which she needed to know, of course, because she certainly wasn’t interested in him—or anyone else for that matter—in a matrimonial kind of way, but that didn’t stop her whiling away endless hours wondering.

And because she could never ask such intrusive questions her imagination had been working overtime. He’d be protective, she’d decided. Passionate. Loyal. And caring. Oh, he might like to make out that he was only interested in himself but that wasn’t true at all, was it? Over the last few days she’d gathered plenty of evidence that contradicted that claim. She’d seen it in the way he’d provided food and water and shade for the temporary workers who’d been brought in to help with the harvest. In the way he’d frogmarched the housekeeper, Ana, to her room when she’d been stoically trying to carry on her duties through a streaming summer cold.

And in the way he’d kept a distant yet watchful eye on her.

Not that he’d needed to keep an eye on her because she was doing fine on her own, but that didn’t stop warmth stealing through her whenever she glanced at him and caught him looking at her with what she thought might be concern and heat and something else that she was struggling to identify.

The warmth would have been worrying if she hadn’t known perfectly well that she and Rafael wouldn’t—couldn’t—last. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told him she wasn’t interested in anything long-term; now she was back to her usual self, she fully intended to resume her old life and globetrot her way across the planet in the way she knew and loved.

Besides, they’d soon be going their separate ways. Once the summer was over Rafael would head back to Madrid and work, and she’d be back in Paris and lining up work of her own. And if that didn’t sound quite as appealing as it should, well, that was just nervousness about having been out of the game for a while, nothing more.

Rafael stirred and Nicky frowned. Hmm. Maybe the fact that this thing between them would inevitably come to an end—and sooner rather than later—was something she ought to keep in the forefront of her mind. She couldn’t stay here for ever, and right now she might be having a great time but it wouldn’t do to get lulled into a false sense of security, which would be all too easy to do seeing as this last week had been so idyllic.

She should probably stop spending quite so much time in his bed, she thought, carefully disentangling herself from the sheet and shifting away from him. In it she tended to lose all sense of perspective and reality and, while it was utterly lovely, getting used to it wouldn’t do her any favours at all. Even if she wanted to, with the way she scooted around the world, living in hotel rooms and out of a suitcase, she simply couldn’t afford to get used to anything.

Barely managing to resist the temptation to flop back and wake Rafael up in the most delicious way she could think of, Nicky was in the process of swinging her legs round when a hand snapped round her wrist and stopped her in her tracks.

‘Where are you off to?’ he said sleepily.

She twisted round and glanced down at him, drinking in the rumpled hair and sexy smile, and for a moment couldn’t remember. ‘I thought I might get up.’

He rubbed his eyes, gave his head a quick shake and shifted up onto his elbow. ‘Why?’

‘Because it’s five in the afternoon.’

‘So?’ He stroked her wrist and her stomach all but disappeared.

Nicky swallowed and racked her brains for a reason to get up when there wasn’t one. ‘My feet are getting itchy,’ she said even though they’d never felt less itchy.

‘OK,’ he said, sliding his hand up her arm and making goosebumps pop up all over her skin, ‘so how about a trip into town?’

‘That sounds great.’

‘Then into town we’ll go,’ he murmured, and then pulled her down and back into his arms and gave her a kiss that frazzled her brain and made a mockery of her pathetic effort to resist him. ‘Later.’

* * *

Quite a long time later, Rafael was sitting with Nicky at a table in a square in the centre of town, toying with the stem of his wine glass and wondering if he ought to be worried about what was going on here.

There were certainly things he should be worried about. Work or, rather, his lack of interest in it was one, for example. Nicky’s friendship with his sister and its odd insignificance was another. Above all, he really ought to be concerned about the way that virtually anything that related to life beyond the physical and metaphorical boundaries of the vineyard simply didn’t seem to matter.

Anything related to real life, in fact.

What was going on with Nicky wasn’t real, he reminded himself, glancing over at her from behind his sunglasses and seeing a dreamy, wistful kind of smile curve her mouth. It couldn’t last for ever, and nor did he want it to. Never mind that she was remarkably easy to be with. Never mind that she was fascinating. And never mind that night after night she blew his mind. She’d soon be going home, as would he, and he was absolutely fine with that.

So why did the thought of this being over and of her disappearing from his life for good leave such a bitter taste in his mouth? Why did it make his stomach twist and his chest squeeze? And when had the idea of going home started to sound quite so unappealing?

Rafael’s fingers tightened around his glass and he shifted in his chair as it struck him that perhaps he wasn’t quite as happy about the temporary nature of this thing with Nicky as he’d tried to convince himself.

Come to think of it, why did it have to be temporary anyway? Why couldn’t they continue seeing each other even after they’d returned to their respective homes?

Nicky might have said she wasn’t looking for a relationship but presumably she’d meant one that tied her to one place, that compromised her freedom. But over the last week he’d come to understand and respect her sense of wanderlust and he’d never ask that of her. Besides, why would he even want to when her independence, her self-sufficiency and her commitment to her work were among the things he most liked about her?

In that respect they were perfect for each other, so what would be wrong with a hot, steamy, long-distance affair? Nothing, as far as he could work out, so perhaps he ought to suggest it and see what she had to say...

‘So what did your wife think of all this?’

Nicky’s question yanked him out of his thoughts and he froze with shock at the unexpectedness of it. His wife? She wanted to talk about his wife? Now?

Forcing himself not to tense up, Rafael swivelled round to look at her. She was frowning and she’d gone a little pink and he got the impression that it was a question she hadn’t intended to ask.

He wished she hadn’t because the subject of his marriage wasn’t one he cared to dwell on, but now she’d brought it up he could hardly pretend she hadn’t, however much he might want to. He supposed he was lucky to have got away without having to discuss it for this long.

But never mind. It was fine. Just because she’d asked didn’t mean he had to tell her anything other than the basic facts, did it?

‘My wife?’ he echoed.

‘Well, your ex-wife,’ she amended with a slight smile.

‘She didn’t think anything about this.’

Nicky frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘She never came down here.’

Her eyebrows shot up. ‘What, never?’

‘No,’ he said coolly. ‘I’ve only had the vineyard for five years and she was always more interested in city life anyway.’

‘What was her name?’

‘Marina.’

‘And what was she like?’

‘Blonde. Beautiful.’

‘Naturally,’ she said dryly.

‘She was also temperamental and difficult.’

Looking slightly mollified by that, Nicky sat back. ‘So what went wrong?’

Suddenly feeling as if he were sitting on knives, Rafael shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Hasn’t Gaby told you?’

‘No. She’s loyal and I didn’t like to ask.’

‘Let’s just say it didn’t work out.’

‘Yes, the divorce part of it kind of gives that away.’

He shrugged. ‘There you go, then.’

Nicky fell silent and for a moment Rafael thought with blessed relief that was that. That she’d understood that he didn’t want to talk about it, and that as far as he was concerned the topic was now closed.

But apparently it wasn’t, at least not for her, because she was lifting her sunglasses off her nose and up into her hair and giving him a look that suggested that she didn’t think him brushing over it quite so dismissively was on.

‘Is that it?’ she said, clearly not impressed. ‘Is that all I’m getting?’

‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘Not nearly.’

‘Tough.’ That was all he was prepared to divulge.

Nicky harrumphed and folded her arms over her chest. ‘Well, that doesn’t seem entirely fair, does it?’ she said eventually.

Rafael lifted an eyebrow at her indignation. ‘What doesn’t?’

‘I tell you all about the stuff that happened to me yet you get to avoid talking about what happened to you? I don’t think so.’

The urge to tense up was back but he stamped it down and pasted a bland smile to his face. ‘But the difference is that you chose to tell me. Willingly. And I don’t particularly like talking about my marriage.’

‘I’m sure you don’t,’ she said archly, ‘but you might find it surprisingly therapeutic. I did, after all.’

‘I don’t need therapy. I got over it years ago.’

She fixed him with another far too perceptive look. ‘Really?’ she asked with a scepticism that made him want to grind his teeth.

‘Absolutely.’

‘In that case, why the reluctance to talk about it? And why do you still have such a thing about getting involved with your sisters’ friends?’

This time Rafael couldn’t stop his jaw from clenching because as he contemplated her irritatingly shrewd questions he realised she had a point. And he, therefore, didn’t have much of a choice if he didn’t want her thinking she was right. ‘Fine,’ he said as if it didn’t bother him in the slightest. ‘What do you want to know?’

* * *

Rafael’s marriage might have been occupying her mind a lot lately, but Nicky had never had any intention of actually bringing it up.

However she’d been gazing in the direction of the wedding-goers gathering in front of the church on the other side of the square and idly wondering whether he and the beautiful but temperamental Marina had been married here or in Madrid and what the dress had looked like, when the warmth and the wine and a sheer sense of contentment had obliterated her inhibitions and the question had simply spilled out of her mouth.

Once it had there’d been little point in hoping he hadn’t heard her and even less in trying to back-pedal. And if she was being completely honest, she wouldn’t have retracted it even if she could because the curiosity had been practically killing her.

She wanted to know everything, and now, thank God, it seemed she’d have to wonder and speculate and imagine no longer. ‘Why don’t you start at the beginning?’ she said.

Rafael set his jaw and looked as if he were bracing himself. ‘I met Marina through my younger sister.’

‘Gaby?’

‘The next one up. Elena. She and Marina were best friends. Elena had a party to celebrate her birthday and we were introduced. We dated and three months later we got married.’

Nicky nearly fell off her chair because that didn’t sound like the action of the keen-on-control Rafael she’d come to know. ‘Wow, that was quick.’

‘Too quick with hindsight,’ he said dryly.

‘How long were you married for?’

‘A couple of years.’

‘What happened?’

He grimaced. ‘Once the honeymoon was over—literally—it became pretty clear that we had nothing in common.’

Nothing? She couldn’t believe that. Not when, as she’d discovered, he was intelligent and interesting and had well-formed opinions on an impressively wide range of subjects. ‘You must have had something in common,’ she said, ‘otherwise why get married in the first place?’

He rubbed a hand along his jaw and nodded briefly. ‘OK, there was one thing,’ he conceded and as a pang of jealousy darted through her Nicky wished she hadn’t pressed the point. ‘But naturally it wasn’t enough. We were too different. And too young.’

‘How old were you?’ she asked, dismissing the jealously as entirely normal and ignoring it.

‘I was twenty-three and Marina was twenty.’

‘Didn’t anyone try and stop you?’

‘Of course, but you know how I feel about advice. I’m as bad at taking it as I am at giving it.’ He gave her a tight humourless smile. ‘Besides, I’d just got back from Harvard and, having had the best education on offer, I thought I knew everything.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘Apparently not. I certainly knew nothing about how to handle the mess we’d got ourselves into. We argued. A lot. In fact,’ he added with a frown, ‘we argued about pretty much everything.’

‘That sounds stressful.’

‘It was.’ He stopped and for a moment he seemed to be completely lost in the memory of it all before giving his head a quick shake and snapping out of it. ‘Anyway, things went rapidly downhill until I ended up virtually living at the office and Marina ended up having an affair.’

Nicky winced. ‘Ouch.’

Rafael sighed. ‘I can’t say I really blame her. We should never have got married in the first place. The whole thing was a disaster from start to finish and it’s not something I’m in a hurry to do again.’

At the thought of him, normally so focused and so in control, so way out of his depth and floundering in the face of such unfathomably emotional upheaval, Nicky felt her heart squeeze. ‘So how did your sister take it all?’

He went very still and a muscle ticced in his jaw. ‘It wasn’t the easiest of times,’ he muttered eventually. ‘We didn’t see all that much of each other for a while. It was...awkward.’

‘Just awkward?’ she asked, thinking that for someone who clearly adored his sisters—even if they did occasionally drive him up the wall—‘awkward’ was more likely to mean ‘gut-wrenching’.

‘OK, yes, it was more than awkward,’ he admitted, ‘but you know all about the healing powers of time.’

She nodded. ‘I do indeed.’

‘We got through it eventually but that isn’t something I’d care to repeat either.’

No, she could see why he wouldn’t want to repeat any of it. And she could equally see why he went to such great lengths to avoid emotional mess now because she’d do the same in the circumstances. Who needed it?

Feeling faintly guilty at having made him relive what had clearly been a difficult time, Nicky decided the situation needed lightening.

‘It’s just as well I’m not blonde, beautiful, temperamental or difficult, then, isn’t it?’ she said, flashing him a teasing smile.

Rafael stared at her, bewilderment flickering across his face. ‘What?’

‘Well, when this is over we should be able to part as friends, don’t you think? I certainly don’t intend to lose Gaby’s friendship over it.’

For a moment there was utter silence and Nicky wondered what she’d said. Then Rafael seemed to pull himself together and shot her a quick stomach-melting smile. ‘This is quite different,’ he said, and signalled for the bill.

* * *

It was different, thought Rafael, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and leaning back against a low wall as he watched Nicky hunker down at the bottom of some steps and lift her camera to her eye.

And thank God for it because his relationship with Marina had been a disaster. A complete disaster, and not just because they’d been young and had had precious little in common. Yes, those had obviously been contributing factors to the breakdown of their marriage, but what had really been at the heart of it all was Marina’s clinginess and neediness and his inability to handle any of it.

With hindsight he should have foreseen problems right from the start, or at least the minute he’d learned about her overprotective parents, the sheltered life she’d led and her desperate longing to escape.

If he’d been thinking straight he’d have paid attention to the great neon warnings his brain kept flashing at him and steered well clear, but in all honesty they’d met and he’d been so dazzled by her looks he’d stopped thinking at all.

It hadn’t helped that meeting her had coincided with his return to Spain after years of hard academic work and little play. He’d been demob happy and hell-bent on making up for lost time and she’d been only too willing to help. So he hadn’t stopped to think about what effect their whirlwind romance might have had on her and it had never occurred to him that she’d start to view him as some sort of saviour.

But she had, and before long the signs of her dependency on him had become apparent. She’d turned possessive, jealous and obsessive, calling him a dozen times a day just to check where he was and what he was doing. She’d stopped seeing the few friends she had and tried to stop him seeing the friends he had.

He’d unwittingly found himself responsible for her happiness and he hadn’t known what to do. And then it had got even worse because by the time he realised how needy and stifling she’d become—and how unhappy he made her—he’d also realised that he’d confused lust with love and that by marrying her he’d made a massive mistake.

And the awful guilt-inducing truth of the matter was that he hadn’t even thought about trying to sort things out, trying to make it work, because ultimately he hadn’t cared. Not during their fiercest arguments, not when Marina had had the affair and not even when she’d filed for divorce.

In fact the bureaucratic nightmare of the divorce had given him a greater headache than his marriage had, and the distress it had caused his sister, who’d been torn between her brother and her best friend, had given him greater heartache.

Which was so wholly wrong he’d vowed never to let himself get into that kind of a situation again. Never again was he going to mistake lust for love, thought Rafael, narrowing his eyes and setting his jaw as he watched Nicky, who was totally absorbed in what she was doing. Nor did he intend to ever get himself into a relationship where he might find himself depended on. For anything. The responsibility of it all was simply too great and he’d only screw up. Again.

And that was why being with Nicky was so refreshing. He admired the way she kept her cards close to her chest, had the ability to sort things through in her own head and didn’t ask anything of him. Above all he appreciated the way he could be himself, the way he didn’t feel he had to be constantly on his guard in case she wanted more than he was able to give, because she never would.

The thought of pursuing a more long-term relationship with her popped up in his head once again and his muscles tensed and his heart beat a fraction faster as the need to get started on it right now surged up inside him.

What was the point in waiting? In deliberating? There wasn’t any, was there? Because it seemed to him that she was just as into this as he was, and he didn’t think she’d say no. At least he fervently hoped she wouldn’t.

Rafael was just about to push himself off the wall and head towards her when he saw her shoot to her feet, take a quick step back and crash straight into a group of tourists who’d gathered behind her and were listening to the guide gesticulating at the memorial she’d been photographing.

If he’d had time to think about it—and if it had been anyone else other than Nicky—he’d have expected her to brush herself off, give them a quick smile and a heartfelt apology and then stroll back to him.

But he didn’t have time to think because it all happened so fast. So fast in fact that his brain slowed it right down.

He watched as Nicky froze and went white and then stumbled, and within what felt like aeons but could only have been a split second the little group was closing round her, hands reaching out to steady her.

As alarm began to flash through him he heard her cry of distress. Saw her lash out, and as he realised what was going on he didn’t stop to think or consider his actions. He just reacted.

With his heart pounding as fiercely as he bet hers was and with adrenalin suddenly roaring through him, he raced over. Muttering a rough apology, he pushed his way through the crowd to where Nicky was standing, pale, sweating and shaking. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders and drew her into a firm embrace.

‘It’s all right. You’re OK,’ he murmured against her hair, every cell of his body turning inside out with the need to absorb her panic and give her some of his strength. ‘Lean on me. I’ve got you.’