One More Sleepless Night

FIVE



Allowing Nicky to stay was the worst decision he’d made in years, thought Rafael grimly, staring out into the inky darkness of the night. What on earth had he been thinking? Had he completely lost his mind?

So much for all that peace and tranquillity he’d been after. And so much for all that rest and relaxation he’d hoped for. He’d never felt less peaceful, less tranquil, less rested or less relaxed. In fact, he was even more tense now than when he’d arrived and it was all entirely down to his unwanted house guest and the startlingly dramatic, insanely irritating effect she seemed to have on him.

How he’d ever managed to convince himself that he wasn’t aware of Nicky he’d never know. Not aware of her? Hah. That was a joke. He must have been mad to even think it because over supper it had become pretty bloody obvious that he’d never been more aware of anyone, so since when did he do such complete and utter self-denial?

Rafael grimaced and knocked back another inch of his brandy. And to think that he’d blithely assumed he was doing so well. That his legendary self-control was fine. God, he was a stupidly arrogant idiot because he hadn’t been doing well at all. He’d been doing dismally, and he hadn’t even realised it.

He should never have suggested supper. If he’d known what torturous agony that was going to be he’d have gone straight from the vineyards to his bedroom and stayed there until he was sure the coast was clear, but that was what hubris and the cook’s weekend off could do to a man.

As a result, he’d had the most uncomfortable couple of hours he’d had in years, starting with the odd prickling he’d felt all over his skin when he’d been seeing to the steaks and had become conscious of the fact that Nicky was watching him.

He’d slowly turned, thinking that she might be mortified into jerking her gaze away, but was she? No. Those enigmatic blue-grey eyes of hers had continued to travel over him, languidly and totally unashamedly, and he’d been pinned to the spot, his body going into sensory overdrive and his head swimming.

But even then he’d just about held it together. Until he’d hit upon the idea of offering her a prawn in the foolhardy hope that moving on to food and small talk was the best way forward, and it had all gone downhill from there.

The prawns had been such a bad idea. There she’d sat calmly sucking them down and letting out those little soft moans while talking about her work, his siblings and her upbringing, and with every passing minute his head had got fuzzier and his body had wound tighter.

With his head filling with images of what Nicky might look like in nothing but a bikini as she lay by his pool, his stomach had twisted and his pulse had picked up until the desire he’d persuaded himself he’d conquered had slammed back with a force that had nearly floored him, and as hard as he’d tried he hadn’t been able to stamp it out.

God only knew what they’d talked about after that because as night had descended he’d fallen more and more under her strangely hypnotic spell, until all he’d really been able to focus on was the way her mouth moved when she talked, the auburn streaks in her hair that the soft flickering candlelight picked out, and her funny little wistful smile.

Thank heavens she’d got up and announced she was off to bed when she had because he hadn’t been sure how much longer he’d have been able to resist the growing pressure of desire.

It was completely baffling, he thought now, scowling down into his unexpectedly empty glass. He’d known her for less than twenty-four hours so how had things got so bad so quickly? When exactly had Nicky got into his head? And more importantly when exactly was she going to do the decent thing and get out? Because he really didn’t want her in there.

For one thing, he absolutely did not need the hassle of a new affair so hot on the heels of the last disastrous one and, for another, what on earth was the point of wanting her when the attraction was so clearly one-sided?

Rafael set his glass on the table and let out a low growl of frustration. He’d had more than enough experience to recognise the signs of mutual physical attraction, and Nicky hadn’t displayed any of them at any point. Which he should have been fine with, seeing as he was no longer a hormone-ridden teenager but a mature rational man of thirty-two, so the fact that he wasn’t apparently fine with it annoyed him even more.

What was going on? And what the devil was he going to do about it?

He leaned forward to pour himself another brandy with which to contemplate the dilemma, but he’d barely reached for the bottle when a yell tore through the warm still night.

The shock of it made his heart lurch and his arm freeze in mid-stretch, and the anguish in it made goosebumps break out all over his skin. All thoughts of unrequited lust fled from his head and instinct took over.

Shoving his chair back, Rafael leapt to his feet, his heart thundering and adrenalin pounding through his veins. He wanted to race indoors and charge up the stairs. He wanted to fling back the door to Nicky’s bedroom and see if she was all right. He wanted to find out why she’d yelled, what was wrong with her, and why she was really here. He wanted all that with such sudden clamouring urgency that every inch of him was tense and tight, poised and ready to—

He froze in his tracks as reason suddenly swooped down and barged aside instinct, and his blood ran cold.

God, what the hell was he thinking?

No. Absolutely not.

He didn’t do concern. He didn’t do rushing to the aid of damsels whether in distress or not. And he definitely did not want to know what was wrong with Nicky or what had caused her to cry out.

He shoved his hands through his hair and swore beneath his breath. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he didn’t sort out other people’s personal problems. He might have grown up constantly being told by his mother that as their only brother he had a duty to protect and look out for his sisters, but he’d never met a group of girls who needed looking out for less. And the women he’d met subsequently—bar one—only confirmed the conclusion he’d reached that the so-called fairer sex was emotionally far tougher than the men he’d come across, and more often than not didn’t appreciate help with any issues they might have.

Steeling himself against the lingering urge to act on his instincts and go and check on her regardless, Rafael set his jaw and made himself sit down. Whatever was plaguing Nicky was none of his business, and whatever had made her yell like that was probably nothing but a bad dream. Besides, it wasn’t his job to fix her, and judging by her defensiveness when they’d been talking earlier he doubted she’d appreciate the interference.

So he was doing the right thing by leaving her alone, he assured himself as he splashed some more brandy into his glass. Nicky would be fine, and come the morning he’d have forgotten all about it so there was absolutely no need to give it any further thought.

Sitting back and downing half his drink, Rafael resolutely put it out of his head and turned his attention to his vines.

* * *

Nicky woke up a second before she cracked her head on the tarmac. As usual.

Once again she’d been trapped in the midst of a swirling mass of humanity, the bright colours blurring her vision, the thunderous noise deafening her and the increasing air of menace intensifying the panic and fear rocketing through her.

Once again she’d lost her balance and had desperately tried to counteract the momentum of the crowd by grabbing at air, at anything really, but with the crush of people pressing in and around her it was to no avail. And once again she’d felt herself go down and had filled with the sickening heartbreaking awareness that once she hit the ground she’d never get back up...

At least she hadn’t cried out, she thought, staring blankly up into the jet black darkness of the night, her heart pounding, sweat pouring off her and her head swimming with the horrible images that still haunted her sleep.

As mercies went it was a small one, but it was a mercy nevertheless because she knew from past experience that she was perfectly capable of letting out a yell that could wake the dead. Or, at least, Gaby, who’d pounded on her door often enough, demanding to know if she was all right.

If she’d yelled out this time Rafael would undoubtedly have heard and very possibly would have rushed in to see what was wrong. So it was a relief she hadn’t because she really wasn’t up to explaining.

Willing her heart to steady and her breathing to slow, Nicky sighed and flung an arm over her eyes and reminded herself for what felt like the billionth time that the shakiness and the fear pounding through her would pass. As they always did.

But, God, she was sick of the whole sodding lot of it. She was sick of the lack of control she had over her subconscious, sick of the hold that something that happened months ago still had on her—and her inability to get over it—and sick of being so prickly and defensive all the time.

It had to stop. Today. Now.

But how?

As the turbulent images faded and her trembling stopped something Rafael had said earlier flickered through her head. Something about not letting things bother him. Or rather, about choosing to not let things bother him...

Well, that was what she’d do too, she thought with grim resolution, because she had a choice, didn’t she? Maybe not about what went on while she was asleep, but while she was awake? That was a different matter entirely.

So today was going to be different. Today she was going to think positively and not dwell on the past. Today she’d choose not to care.