One More Sleepless Night

SIX



Guilt wasn’t a feeling Rafael was all that familiar with, but the guilt—and shame—he felt about not going to see if Nicky was all right last night was seriously beginning to grate.

So much for assuming he’d have forgotten all about it by this morning. He’d barely thought about anything else, because he might have gone to bed convinced he’d done the best thing by leaving her alone, and he might have congratulated himself on stoically resisting the urge to give in to his instincts, but over the course of the morning the doubts that had crept in overnight had intensified and nothing was making them go away. Not the knowledge that he had at least put his ear to her door on his way to bed, not the reassuring sounds of movement coming from her room at the crack of dawn, and not the jaunty whistling he’d heard coming from the landing moments before he’d shut the back door behind him.

Not even the hard physical work he’d engaged in in the vineyards had been enough to put it from his mind because, regardless of the consequences, he should have paid attention to his gut and checked up on her. Quite apart from it being the gentlemanly thing to do, Nicky was a guest in his home and therefore her welfare was technically his responsibility, however much he might not want it to be.

Which really left him with only one course of action, he thought, narrowing his eyes and glowering at the blindingly white cortijo he was striding towards. Never mind that it directly contravened his policy of not getting involved. Never mind that it could potentially open up a whole messy can of worms. He had no option but to ask Nicky outright what was going on, and the sooner the better because the doubts and the guilt and the shame were driving him nuts and he didn’t think he could stand any of it much longer.

Pushing open the back door he strode into the hall and briefly wondered where to start hunting for her. She shouldn’t be too far away. If she wasn’t in the house she’d probably be—

‘Rafael?’

At the sound of her voice he automatically stopped and turned. And went still as all the blood rushed to his feet and his plan to clear his conscience shot clean out of his head.

Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, Nicky wasn’t too far away at all. On the contrary she was uncomfortably close, and, in a bright red bikini top, a very short turquoise skirt that sat low on her waist and nothing else, her nose a little pink from the sun and her hair still semi-wet from the pool and hanging in thick waves to her shoulders, very very appealing.

Unable to stop himself, Rafael ran his gaze over her, over the swell of her breasts, pushed up and in by the bikini top, the dip of her waist, the flat abdomen and the flaring of her hips and then down to below the hem of the itsy-bitsy skirt and those long slim legs, which he’d envisaged wrapped around his waist so often in his dreams.

She looked like some kind of siren and as lust shot through him, so hot and fast it nearly brought him to his knees, he had the feeling that if he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t focus on what was important here, he could well find himself being lured to his doom.

Which wasn’t nearly as ominous a notion as it ought to have been. In fact as he stood there staring at her, desire pounding through him and his head whirling, doom was looking increasingly tempting, and he had to ball his hands into fists to stop himself lunging for her because he was pretty sure that that kind of behaviour would get his face slapped.

With superhuman effort Rafael swallowed hard, ruthlessly deleted all images of sultry temptresses and entwined legs from his brain, and pulled himself together because wanting her was not why he’d decided to seek her out. ‘What?’ he muttered.

‘I—’ She stopped and looked at him with sudden concern. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Absolutely fine,’ he said, frustration with himself making him sound brusquer than he’d have liked. ‘What about you?’

‘Me?’ she asked, blinking up at him in surprise. ‘Oh, I couldn’t be better.’

Rafael frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course,’ she said, and flashed him an overly bright smile. ‘Why on earth wouldn’t I be?’

He thought he saw her smile falter for a second, but it was back in the blink of an eye and he couldn’t be certain. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Fabulously.’

‘Really?’

She nodded. ‘Absolutely. It must be all this fresh air and sun.’

Hmm. He tilted his head and noticed the dark shadows beneath her eyes that belied her words. ‘Right.’

‘You sound sceptical.’

If it hadn’t been for the guilt swilling around inside him, Rafael would have let it go, but if anything the guilt was growing so instead he braced himself and made himself say, ‘I am.’

‘Why?’

‘Because in the middle of the night I heard a yell.’

Nicky’s eyebrows shot up and she froze and for a moment there was such utter silence that he could hear the hum of a tractor he knew to be miles away. ‘A yell?’ she said at last, way too casually to be convincing.

‘That’s right.’

‘And you thought it was me?’

‘Who else would it have been?’

She shrugged and shifted her weight from one foot to the other while her gaze slid from his and focused on a point somewhere over his left shoulder. ‘I’ve no idea. An owl perhaps?’

An owl? ‘It was you. What happened?’

She bit her lip, dithered for a second and then clearly decided there was no point in denying it any longer. ‘I had a bad dream,’ she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘It was nothing.’

‘It didn’t sound like nothing.’

The smile she gave him this time was tight. ‘Look, Rafael, I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Don’t you think it might help?’

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘It really was nothing, and I’d be grateful if you’d drop it.’

Rafael stared at her for a second, mulling over whether he should push her further for an explanation, but then mentally shrugged and did as she asked. He’d tried, but he could hardly force her to tell him, and anyway if it really was nothing then he didn’t need to.

In fact he ought to be relieved she didn’t want to discuss it. He’d done what he’d set out to do. By bringing the matter up he’d assuaged the guilt, and Nicky’s request that he leave things alone reaffirmed his judgement that she wouldn’t have appreciated the interference even if he had rushed to her aid, so he was completely off the hook. And he hadn’t even had to mop up any messy emotional stuff.

So where was the relief? Where was the satisfaction? And why was he feeling faintly piqued by her reluctance to talk about what was troubling her instead of being pleased at such a successful outcome to his quandary?

‘OK, fine,’ he said, nodding and deciding to attribute the baffling—and faintly disconcerting—paradox to a long morning in the sun.

‘Thanks,’ she said, brightening considerably and shooting him a beaming smile that had desire once again rushing through him. ‘You know, you’re just in time.’

To do what? Succumb to her allure and his total mental collapse? Or pick her up, toss her over his shoulder and carry her up to bed? ‘For what?’ he said hoarsely, and cleared his throat.

‘Lunch. Or what passes for lunch in my world.’ Her mouth curved up into a funny little half-smile and his stomach felt as if someone had grabbed it and twisted. Hard. ‘I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid—not enough time spent in the kitchen probably—but I’ve cobbled a salad together from last night’s leftovers and was wondering, would you like to join me?’

No was the answer he should have been looking for if he wanted to retain any kind of sanity, but clearly he didn’t because all he could think right now was that he was hungry, her smile was as inviting as the idea of food and his brain was so addled with lust, confusion and frustration on top of the lingering pangs of guilt and shame he could barely remember his own name, let alone come up with some kind of suitable excuse.

‘Sure,’ he said and wondered what she’d think if he walked up to the wall and started banging his head against it. ‘Why not?’

‘It’ll be five minutes.’ She tilted her head and regarded him thoughtfully. ‘In the meantime, why don’t you take a dip? You look a bit hot and bothered.’

Watching her saunter back into the kitchen, Rafael resisted the urge to get up close and personal with that wall, and instead shoved his hands through his hair while calling himself all kinds of idiot for being so weak.

Maybe a long morning beneath the hot sun had resulted in more than just the paradox of being piqued instead of pleased that she didn’t want to talk through her issues. Maybe it was also responsible for an evident meltdown of his brain cells, because one way or another Nicky was driving him demented, as was his total inability to know what to do about any of it.

Perhaps a swim wasn’t such a bad idea, he thought darkly, heading upstairs to don his swimming shorts. The icy water of the pool would no doubt have the same effect as a cold shower, and it might even clear his head long enough for him to work out how to fix the exceedingly uncomfortable problem he was still facing.

Something had to be done, because he might have sorted out one dilemma but there still remained the issue of the unrequited lust he was suffering from, which if it continued any longer could well end up doing permanent damage to his body.

The question was, what to do?

Frowning as he began to assess the options, Rafael threw a towel over his shoulder and headed back downstairs. Taking care to avoid the kitchen and the dangers that lurked within, he stepped out onto the patio and strode along the path that led to the pool, frustratingly none the wiser.

He dropped the towel on a sun lounger, walked up to the edge of the pool and dived straight in.

Perhaps he should ask Nicky to leave after all, he thought, relishing the way the icy shock that hit his body obliterated the heat inside him, and beginning to scythe through the shimmering water as he made for the other end. Maybe he should leave, although frankly he didn’t see why he had to when it was his house.

Or maybe, just maybe, he was going about this all wrong.

Rafael reached the end and surfaced. He rubbed the water out of his eyes and drew in a deep breath as a bubble of clarity burst in his head.

God, he was, wasn’t he? He was going about this in completely the wrong way, and frankly if he conducted his business in such a manner he’d be bankrupt within weeks. Because how could he fix this—or any problem for that matter—when he wasn’t in full possession of the facts?

As was very definitely the case here. He didn’t have all the facts, did he? All he knew was the way he was feeling, the desire and need and longing he was burning up with. He had no idea how Nicky felt about anything. For all he knew she could be burning up in the same way he was.

OK, so she hadn’t shown any sign of it so far, but then he was pretty sure he hadn’t either, so she could well be just as crazed with lust as he was and equally adept at concealing it. After all she’d been eyeing him up yesterday evening at supper, hadn’t she?

And if that was the case then maybe she was waiting for him to make the first move. Or maybe she was as baffled by all this as he was and was also struggling to work out what to do about it.

Hmm. Whatever Nicky was or wasn’t doing, and frankly his head hurt just trying to work it out, he clearly needed a new, more obvious strategy.

* * *

So much for a new and more obvious strategy, Rafael thought darkly an hour later as he fought back the urge to grind his teeth.

Honestly, short of yanking Nicky into his arms and kissing the life out of her he didn’t think he could have been more obvious.

Over lunch he’d hit her with his full arsenal of moves, which admittedly wasn’t huge as he’d never had to work so hard to entice a woman into his arms, but nevertheless he thought he’d done his best.

He’d complimented her on the salad that hadn’t been nearly as bad as she’d made out, and had then set out to be as attentive as he could. Although she’d been remarkably unforthcoming, he’d asked her dozens of questions about herself and her work, and had happily complied when she’d turned his questions back on him. He’d been genuinely interested and he thought she’d been the same.

Encouraged by that he’d shot her endless warm smiles, flashed her wide grins he’d been told were devastating, and been as charming as he knew how. He’d even left his T-shirt and shorts off after his swim to give her ample opportunity to ogle his near-naked body should she wish to do so.

But had any of it made even the faintest scrap of difference? No, it had not. There he’d been practically combusting with lust—not least because now he didn’t have to imagine what she looked like in a bikini—and Nicky couldn’t have been less bothered.

To his growing frustration she’d hadn’t shown the slightest interest in his body and had been spectacularly undevastated by his smiles. In fact, at one point, after a wide, and, he’d thought, particularly blinding smile, she’d frowned and had had the cheek to ask him if he was feeling all right.

Now she’d settled herself on a sun lounger, was rubbing suncream into the legs that had been haunting his dreams, and he was slowly going insane. Unable to drag his gaze away, he had a sudden vision of those hands roaming all over him, caressing every inch of him, and his body hardened.

With desire thrumming through him Rafael picked savagely at the label of the bottle of water they’d shared over lunch.

Dammit, why didn’t Nicky find him as attractive as he found her? He’d been told he was reasonably good-looking and that his body wasn’t too bad. He had all his hair, which was apparently something of a rarity in men over thirty, and, apart from the edginess he’d been feeling over the last couple of days, he was generally fairly even-tempered.

So what was wrong with her?

He glowered at the label for a second and then ruthlessly cut off that train of thought because it smacked of arrogance and petulance and those were two traits he hoped he didn’t possess.

He didn’t expect every woman to fall at his feet; it was just that quite a few had done in the years since his divorce, so it was frustrating—not to mention hugely unflattering—when he came across one he wanted who didn’t.

With a growl of frustration Rafael abandoned the bottle and lifted his glass to his mouth instead. He let a cube of ice slide between his lips, crunched down on it and winced at the sudden hit of cold.

‘Would you mind doing my back?’

Rafael jerked and choked on a chunk of ice. He coughed. Pounded his chest. Swallowed hard. And then as the implication of her words hit his brain his blood roared in his ears and his heart lurched so violently he nearly passed out.

God, she really was going to kill him. Because if the mere thought of his hands on her sent him into spasms of lust what would happen when he actually touched her for real? Which he was going to have to, of course, because what else could he do?

Slathering her in warm slippery cream might well unravel what was left of his self-control but he could hardly refuse. Not when lunch had been cleared away a while ago and he was doing nothing but trying not to watch her, picking at that damned label, crunching ice and slowly going out of his mind.

Rafael dragged in a deep steadying breath and told himself to calm down. All he had to do was think of Nicky as one of his sisters, whose backs he’d rubbed cream into loads of times in the past, and it would be fine.

‘Not at all,’ he muttered, getting to his feet and pulling his shorts on over his trunks in the hope it might disguise his body’s reaction to her. As the cotton scraped over his sensitive skin he gritted his teeth and determinedly drummed up images of icicles and igloos.

With not a little discomfort he walked over, knelt down beside her and took the bottle from her outstretched hand, and tried not to jump when their fingers brushed.

‘Thanks.’ Nicky beamed up at him, then settled on her front and to his horror reached behind her and unclipped her bikini top.

It was fine, he told himself again, his jaw so tight he thought it might snap. It was just a back. A long smooth one, yes, but just a back. In the same way that that was just a bottom and those were just legs.

Except that they weren’t because none of her was just anything. It was all slim. Toned. Perfect.

He drew in a breath and let it out agonisingly slowly in an effort to brace himself. He could forget trying to consider Nicky a sister because it wasn’t working. And he could forget the icicles and igloos because they weren’t working either. He was now thinking glaciers. Ice hotels. The Arctic.

All of which melted the instant he put his hands on the silky warm skin of her shoulders. At the feel of her beneath his palms as he slid them down her back, his senses shut out everything but her. The soft texture of her skin... The dizzying scent of the lotion as he smoothed it over her. The dazzling sight of all that bare hot flesh... The muffled sounds of her sighs...

He wondered what she’d taste like and his mouth watered with such longing that his knees nearly buckled beneath the onslaught of it all. His head swam and his body burned and he couldn’t help letting out a deep ragged groan.

The sound of it, so rough, so desperate, snapped him out of the sensuous whirl and brought him crashing back to reality. He jerked his hands off her, snapped back and shoved them through his hair, not caring one bit that they were still covered in cream.

God. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Had he truly lost his mind? And could he even begin to hope she hadn’t heard it?

Apparently not because she tensed a little and her breath hitched. ‘Rafael, are you all right?’ she murmured sleepily.

‘Yes,’ he muttered, totally thrown by the dizzying realisation that he’d been so wholly caught up in her. ‘Why?’

‘You sighed. Deeply.’

‘I’m fine.’

She twisted her head round, squinted up at him and frowned. ‘You don’t look fine. You’re glowering.’

‘Just thinking,’ he said, and told himself he really had to get a grip before all the need, confusion, tension and frustration that were swilling around inside him snapped and he did something truly insane like flip her over, get them both naked and then sink himself inside her.

Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Heavens, about what?’

‘Nothing,’ he said sharply and lurched to his feet. ‘You’re done.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, wriggling slightly to refasten her top. Then she sat up and stared at him. ‘It doesn’t look like nothing. You look like you want to rip something apart with your teeth.’

Such as that bikini? The vision of Nicky writhing beneath him as he tore the red cotton from her body slammed into his head and practically robbed him of breath. Desire clamoured even harder at the flimsy barriers he’d erected and he had the terrifying feeling that he was losing the battle to contain it any longer.

‘It’s work, that’s all,’ he said, and took a quick unsteady step back because he had to get out of here now.

‘Can I do anything to help?’

Yes. Quite a few things. ‘No,’ he said hoarsely.

‘Oh, OK.’ She frowned and bit that luscious lower lip and that was the last straw really. The lust he’d been struggling to keep at bay finally crashed through the barriers and his resistance evaporated beneath the force of it.

What the hell? He thought he’d been obvious, but clearly he hadn’t been nearly obvious enough. And what did he have to lose? His self-control was already in tatters. His brain was already in shreds. What would a slap to the face do that she hadn’t already done to him?

‘Do you really want to know what the problem is?’ he growled, way beyond the point of no return to question the wisdom of his actions.

Nicky nodded. ‘I do.’

He reached down, wrapped his hands around her arms and hauled her to her feet. ‘This is what my problem is,’ he muttered, barely registering her splutter of shock as he pulled her against him.

He buried one hand in her hair, clamped the other to the small of her back, and as she gasped crushed his mouth down on hers. He plunged his tongue between her parted lips, the desire racing along his veins, burning through his blood and setting fire to his guts. She tasted just as good as he’d imagined. Like honey. Like heaven. And she felt soft and lithe, fitting into his body as if made for him.

His head spinning with dizzying need, Rafael groaned into her mouth and pulled her even tighter against him. He angled her head and deepened the kiss, his relief at finally having her where he wanted her making him so giddy that it was some time before he realised that she wasn’t responding.

But she wasn’t, he realised dazedly, easing the pressure of his mouth and softening the kiss. She was just sort of...there. Hanging limply in his arms. Completely inert.

Her heart wasn’t hammering like his, dammit, her body wasn’t plastering itself uncontrollably against his and her breathing wasn’t all ragged and shaky. She clearly wasn’t being rendered boneless by the experience as he was, which meant that for the first time since confusing lust for something more and proposing to Marina he’d just made a grave error of judgement.

Rafael jerked back, let her go and as he stared down at her stunned expression it all became abundantly clear.

Nicky didn’t feel the same way about him. She hadn’t been waiting for him to make the first move, and she hadn’t been baffled or struggling or any of the other things he’d thought she might have been doing. It had all been in his wildly overactive, desperately hopeful and seriously deluded imagination.

In other words he’d been a complete and utter fool.