Desert Jewels & Rising Stars

by Sharon Kendrick

  Rico asked sharply, ‘How do you know that?’

  Gypsy looked at him, not really understanding the vehemence behind his question but suspecting something had hit close to his own experience. ‘I guess I don’t, for certain. But I know my mother kept him informed of our whereabouts and he never showed up or helped us financially. It became more obvious when she got ill and wanted him to take me in. He refused at first.’ Gypsy couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice. ‘He took me once he’d had a paternity test done, of course.’

  She focused back on Rico and asked, ‘Did something similar happen to you?’

  Rico held a delicate wine glass in one hand, twirling it in long fingers. She could sense his tension.

  He didn’t look at her, but said, ‘Something like that. My mother had an affair with a rich Greek tycoon, and when she fell pregnant he ran home. She was forced into a marriage of convenience to save her family’s reputation before it became common knowledge that she was pregnant.’

  He looked at her. ‘Except that’s not exactly how it happened.’ He went on, ‘I left to find my father when I was sixteen, determined to confront him for leaving us. When I eventually found him, here on Zakynthos, he had lost nearly everything and had less than a year to live. He’d always believed that my mother had had a miscarriage. He told me that he’d begged her to marry him, but that after the supposed miscarriage she’d told him to leave and never come back.’

  His mouth was a grim line. ‘So all those years were wasted; he thought I’d never been born, and I believed he’d not wanted to know me. And my stepfather had made my life hell because I reminded him every day of another man in my mother’s bed.’

  Gypsy felt emotion rising up. ‘Rico…I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how bittersweet it must have been to meet your father only to lose him again.’

  Rico laughed harshly. ‘Don’t get too romantic about it. He was a bitter old man by the time I got to him, and the best thing he did for me was leave me his ailing taverna—which I did up and sold on at a profit a few years later.’ He inclined his head. ‘And I changed my name, so at least I gave him that in death.’

  Gypsy couldn’t meet his eye; in many respects they’d trod a very similar path. She felt as if a huge lump was constricting her throat, but managed to get out, ‘I can see why you were so angry to find out about Lola…I truly wouldn’t have kept her from you if I’d thought I could trust you.’

  ‘And why couldn’t you trust me, Gypsy?’ he asked silkily.

  She looked at him. ‘I still don’t know that I can. From the moment you came back into my life…our lives…you’ve dominated and controlled. I grew up with someone who lived his life like that, and I know a little of what it’s like to be resented for being there. I didn’t want to risk putting Lola through that.’

  His eyes glittered dark grey in the gathering dusk. ‘It would seem as if we’re at something of an impasse. You admit you can’t trust me, and I’m not sure that I can forgive you for keeping me from Lola.’

  Gypsy tried a wry smile, but it came out skewed. ‘We only have to endure this for fifteen months and then you can get on with your life.’ That damned lump was back in her throat. ‘You can find someone who can match your exacting standards of moral behaviour.’

  Rico reacted viscerally to the fact he’d just revealed so much about his past and to that provocative statement—even though he hated himself for reacting. He reached out to take her chin, drawing her face around to his. She wouldn’t avoid him. He felt her clench her jaw against his hand, and even that had a hot spiral of desire rushing through him. ‘You won’t be going anywhere until we’ve dealt with this desire between us, Gypsy. Unfinished business, you could call it.’

  Gypsy tried to pull her chin away, but couldn’t. She gritted out, ‘Well, let’s go to bed now and get it over with, shall we?’

  His eyes flared in response, and Gypsy could see something hot in their depths. Even though it caused an answering quiver in her belly, she immediately regretted her rash words. He finally let her go and sat back, draining his wine glass before saying nonchalantly, ‘This will happen the way I want it, Gypsy, and it won’t be to prove a point. Provoke me all you want, but you’d better be ready for the fall-out.’

  Gypsy threw down her napkin and left the room.

  Rico curbed the urge to drag her back and plunder her mutinous mouth. Desire was a heavy ache within him, and far too many ambiguous emotions were roiling in his chest. As for what he’d said about forgiving her—he was very much aware that forgiveness was something that had stolen over him while he wasn’t even looking. He still felt regret for having missed out on Lola’s early months, but no more anger towards Gypsy—and that realisation was cataclysmic.

  That night Gypsy slept fitfully. She’d checked on Lola after dinner, but had been too restless to go to sleep straight away. It had seemed crazy to stay confined to her bedroom just to avoid Rico. Remembering the pool and how enticing it had looked, and the fact that it was heated, had encouraged her to think she might exercise herself to exhaustion.

  It was only when she had been on the brink of walking into the pool area that she’d heard a sound and seen powerful arms scissoring in and out of the water. Mesmerised, half hidden behind a big plant, Gypsy had watched with bated breath as Rico had stopped and floated lazily on his back.

  He had been completely naked. His long sleek body illuminated only by the moonlight and a few dim spotlights. Nearly tripping in her haste to get away before he saw her, Gypsy had fled back up to her room, knowing that nothing would be able to eradicate that potent image from her brain.

  Now she’d woken again, and flipped onto her back, sighing heavily. She thought she’d heard a mewl come from Lola, but wasn’t sure if it had been a dream or not. She got up to investigate, just in case.

  At the doorway to Lola’s room Gypsy felt her breath stop when her eyes registered the sight before her. Rico was asleep on a chair in the corner, his long jean-clad legs spread out before him, wearing a worn T-shirt which he must have pulled on after his swim. Powerful arms cradled the sleeping form of Lola to his chest.

  Lola’s legs were curled up and her thumb was in her mouth, her other hand curled trustingly on Rico’s chest. For a second Gypsy feared she might cry out, so intense was the emotion ripping through her.

  Controlling herself with an effort, she could see that though Rico might be asleep he must be uncomfortable. On bare feet she padded over and, bending down, barely breathing, carefully started to put her hands underneath Lola to lift her up.

  Immediately Rico’s hands tensed in an instinctively protective gesture, and his eyes snapped open. Silently Gypsy communicated with him, and willed down the response of her body to his proximity, suddenly very aware of her short nightdress.

  Relaxing his hold, Rico let Gypsy lift Lola away. Her legs went weak as her hands felt the hard contours of Rico’s chest. Carefully she stepped back and placed Lola down into the cot, pulling a blanket over her, and prayed that Rico would be gone when she turned around.

  But he wasn’t. He was sitting forward, elbows on his knees, looking at her with slumberous eyes. One lock of midnight-black hair had fallen over his forehead. Hot all over, Gypsy backed away to her bedroom and watched with widening eyes as Rico stood up and prowled towards her.

  Taking her by the hand, he put a finger to her mouth before she could say anything and looked at Lola. Gypsy nodded and let him lead her out. Her heart palpitated at the thought that he’d come through her bedroom to get to Lola, having obviously heard the same cry she’d heard earlier.

  Expecting him to let her go now they were out of Lola’s room, with the door pulled behind them, Gypsy tried to pull her hand away—but Rico wouldn’t let go. She looked up, and all she could see were two burning pools of stormy grey.

  She knew that look. She ached for that look. She’d seen that look in dreams for two years. But even so she shook her head. The need to protect herself against this final capitulati
on was strong. She opened her mouth to speak, but Rico put his finger there again and came close, backing her against the wall and pressing close, so close that Gypsy couldn’t think. All she could see was that image of him naked in the pool. Heat exploded low in her belly.

  His voice was low and sultry. ‘This is inevitable—as inevitable as it was that night two years ago. We’ve both been waiting for this…wanting this…’

  Gypsy shook her head again, futilely, and Rico speared his hands through her hair either side of her face, his thumbs on her jaw.

  ‘You’re mine, Gypsy, and there will be no more waiting. Your body tells me what you refuse to.’

  And he bent his head and kissed her passionately, tipping her head back so that he could stab deep with his tongue. Desire was instant and overwhelming. Gypsy didn’t have a hope. She was a bundle of vulnerabilities, and at every turn this man was only making her feel more vulnerable, giving her little to cling onto in the way of protection.

  Feeling impotent, and angry at her weakness, Gypsy fought fire with fire. Stroking Rico’s tongue with hers, she exulted in his hitched breath as he recognised her capitulation.

  Gypsy’s hands came to his T-shirt and snaked underneath. She needed to feel his chest. Moving her hands over him, she felt how his belly contracted when she scraped her nails over the smooth skin and moved higher, through the covering of hair, finding the blunt nipples.

  Impatient to see him, she pulled at the T-shirt. He ripped it off completely. He bent down for a second, and Gypsy felt herself being lifted into his arms and carried to the bed before Rico put her down again, sliding her down his body so that her nightdress rode up over her thighs.

  She tried to move back, but with his hands on her waist he wouldn’t let her budge. His eyes were burning down into hers. She couldn’t look away, and felt heat flood her cheeks when he rocked his hips against her and she could feel the thrust of his erection against his jeans and her belly.

  Liquid heat seeped between her legs and Gypsy squirmed. Breathless, she reached up and wound her arms around his neck, searching for and finding his mouth, savouring the firm fullness of his lower lip. His big hands moved to her bottom, underneath her pants, which he pushed down as he caressed her, coming back up over the indent of her waist and pulling her nightdress upwards.

  For a split second Gypsy hesitated, her pants around her thighs and her nightdress bunched up just under her breasts. And then, with a deep shaky breath, she lifted her arms and let Rico pull it up and off all the way. Dimly, she knew he would not deviate from his mission. And the clamour in her own pulse told her that, no matter what she might protest, she was as hungry for this as he was.

  She felt her hair fall down over her shoulders, and watched as Rico reached out to twine the strands around his hand. She brought up her hands to cover her breasts and he smiled down at her wolfishly. ‘It’s a bit late for modesty, don’t you think?’

  Gypsy bit her lip. Rico bent down and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Shuddering, she let her head fall back, and she felt his hands come to her pants, pushing them down her legs completely.

  She was barely aware of him taking something out of his jeans pocket before she heard the button snap and the zip come down. They were gone, and he stood before her naked and proud.

  Unable to stop herself, she let her gaze drop almost greedily. A part of her balked at his size, despite having been with him before, but another part thrilled.

  Hoarsely Rico said, ‘Touch me, Gypsy…please…’

  She reached out and closed one hand around his length, feeling a shudder go through his big frame. She’d touched him like this on that first night too. He moved closer, put his hand to the back of her head, and while she kept her hand on him, moving up and down, he tipped her face up to his and kissed her.

  He trailed his other hand down her body, caressing the side of one breast, its full outline, causing her own hand to stop momentarily. Then he continued down over her waist and her belly.

  Mouths fused, Gypsy groaned deeply when she felt his hand seek between her legs, pushing them apart, stroking through her curls to where she burned wetly for him. Her hand stopped moving on him again for a moment when she felt the slide of his fingers along her wetness, slipping inside.

  Her body clenched in an automatic reaction.

  He tore his mouth away and said harshly, ‘Dio. How could I have forgotten how responsive you are…?’

  Gypsy made a soft mewl. She ached all over. Her breasts throbbed, their peaks so tight and hard they almost hurt.

  As if sensing her building agitation, Rico took her hand from him and pushed her back onto the bed. ‘Gypsy, I don’t know if I can go slowly…’

  She lifted her head, feeling all at once slumberous and wide awake. Half incoherent with lust, she replied, ‘I don’t want slow.’

  She vaguely heard the ripping of a packet before he was back between her legs, hair-roughened chest crushing her breasts. Blindly she drew up her legs and reached for his buttocks, her hands feathering along his hips.

  He put one arm under her back, arching her up to him, and as he thrust into her he bent and sucked one nipple deep. Gypsy had to bite her hand to stop crying out loud.

  With his steady thrusts, past and present mingled into one moment for Gypsy. She’d always thought she’d imbued their night together with something more than it was. That it couldn’t possibly have been as earth-shattering as she remembered.

  But what was happening now was even more than she remembered. Little fires danced all over her skin. Sweat dewed her body. She burned and ached at the same time for the elusive pinnacle. Her hips moved in tandem with Rico’s. He was a master of torture, bringing them close, only to pull back again. Constantly hovering near the edge.

  Close to emotional tears that she didn’t have the strength to hide, Gypsy husked, ‘Rico, please…’

  And finally, unleashing his full awe-inspiring power, Rico gave in to the devil inside him and drove Gypsy over the shattering edge before letting himself fall behind her.

  After a brief respite, it was Gypsy who turned to Rico and started to press tiny kisses all down his chest and hard belly. He tensed as she found that rapidly recovering part of him and took him into her mouth.

  Sucking in a breath of pure arousal, struggling to retain control, he reached down to pull her away before she made him explode completely. Drawing her up so that she straddled him, he shifted her with big hands on her hips so that her hot, wet core slid down on him, encircling him in that tight heat.

  With his legs bent, Rico clenched his jaw not to come just at the sight of Gypsy finding her rhythm, sliding up and down his shaft, which felt fuller and harder than he could ever remember. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs flicking her nipples, before he came up to take one and then the other into his mouth.

  In some dim recess of his mind, as her movements became more frantic, as she pushed him back and bent down over his chest to press a kiss to his mouth, her hard nipples scraping against his chest, Rico knew that any hope he’d had that their night together hadn’t been as stupendous as in his memory was blown to smithereens. Because it had just been eclipsed.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘I KNOW when you’re awake, Gypsy. You go very still and your breathing changes. I was aware of it every moment you lay pretending to sleep in Buenos Aires.’

  Gypsy opened her eyes and met Rico’s grey ones. Her heart thudded painfully and her cheeks flooded with colour. She couldn’t bear to think of how wanton she’d been last night. Or how easily she’d capitulated.

  He was propped up on one elbow. The curtains were open and she saw that he was cleanshaven and wearing a white shirt and jeans. Panic gripped her, and she would have thrown back the cover but remembered that she was naked.

  ‘What time is it? Where’s Lola?’

  ‘She’s dressed and downstairs, with Agneta and her grandson. He’s the same age.’

  Gypsy looked at him suspiciously. ‘You changed her nappy?�
�

  Rico grimaced. ‘Yes, after a few attempts.’

  Something in Gypsy’s insides melted but she fought it. ‘I should get up.’

  Rico leaned back and put his hands behind his head. ‘Go ahead. I’m not stopping you.’

  Gypsy bit out, ‘I’m naked.’

  He said with a mock-lascivious leer, ‘I know.’ And then more seriously, when she didn’t move, ‘Are you telling me that after last night you feel modest?’

  Gypsy all but groaned, and went even redder. Her hands clenched on the sheet and she looked around desperately for something to cover up. Taking pity on her, Rico got off the bed and went to the bathroom, coming back with a robe. He wouldn’t turn around, though, and watched mockingly as Gypsy contorted herself to get into the robe without revealing anything of her body.

  Her body upon which she could already see the marks of having been made love to. Eventually she stood up, but gasped when Rico grabbed the lapels of the robe and pulled her into him.

  She looked up, her belly spasming treacherously. ‘Rico, we can’t—not here, now…’

  ‘As much as I’m looking forward to making love to you again, Gypsy, I won’t right now. What I am going to say is this: I don’t want to hear one word of regret or recrimination. You’ll be moved into my rooms as of today, and Lola will be set up in the suite adjoining mine.’

  Gypsy went to speak, but Rico cut off whatever she was about to say when his mouth slanted over hers and he took advantage of her open mouth. Within seconds the flames of passion rose around them, and before Gypsy knew it Rico had stopped kissing her and she was clinging helplessly to his T-shirt. She saw the burning intent in his eyes and it made her tremble in response. How could she deny that she wanted this too, after last night? She’d be the worst kind of liar.

  Amidst the desire heating her blood trickled something cold, though—Rico was just controlling her, dominating her exactly as he’d been doing all along. It made her say now, as she stepped back and willed her legs to hold her up, ‘I won’t say anything about regret or recrimination, but I want to keep my own room. We have a baby monitor. If I go to you we can still hear if Lola wakes up.’