by Helen Brooks
Marianne took a big gulp of her coffee. She didn’t know where this was going but she needed the caffeine to cope without a doubt. She noticed her hand was shaking and hoped he hadn’t. She also wished she wasn’t in her oldest jeans and paint-stained top with not a scrap of make-up and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. A confidence booster, it wasn’t.
‘When we parted last night I spent some hours on the beach.’ He took a pull of his own coffee, his eyes narrowing over the steam rising from the mug. ‘By the time I went back to the house I’d decided to stay in England for a few weeks, but I still wasn’t sure what I wanted. No, that’s wrong. I wasn’t sure what I could offer.’
‘Offer?’ She stared at him, her eyes huge in the paleness of her face. She wished she hadn’t taken the breakfast stools out of the way the day before when she had cleared the room. She would have given anything to sit down and control the trembling in her legs.
He nodded. ‘But then, as I sat up all night, things became clear.’
Marianne studied his handsome face, taking in the blue, blue eyes, the chiselled facial structure, the firm mouth. He was so composed, she thought weakly. So in control. Nothing really touched him.
And then he disabused her of this idea when he uncoiled himself from the breakfast bar and stood up, setting his mug down. His expression remained impassive but she saw something in his eyes that caused her heart to race. ‘Can I ask you something before I continue?’ he said softly.
She nodded, trying to still the rapid beating of her heart.
‘You’ve said often enough we’re very different people and I accept that. You’ve also said you acknowledge that physically we would be good together. But—’
‘What?’
‘Could you see yourself wanting to get to know me? As a person, not—’ He paused. ‘Not as someone who gives you the privilege of their company in bed.’
The words she had thrown at him were without heat but she knew they had cut deep. Emotion surged through her so rawly she lowered her eyes. She couldn’t let him see how he affected her. ‘I’m not sure what it is you’re saying,’ she prevaricated.
He waited until she raised her gaze to his before he said, ‘It’s simple.’
‘No, nothing’s simple with you,’ she responded before she considered her words. ‘You’ve told me you are completely satisfied with your life the way it is. That you like to be free, without commitment of any kind. That you would never dream of getting emotionally involved with a woman again. That’s what you’ve told me.’
‘I lied. Not consciously, but the man I’ve become is not the man I want to continue to be. Does that make sense?’
‘Last night you were so sure, Rafe.’
‘I know. And I’m not expecting you to believe me in one fell swoop.’
‘But how could you change so radically?’
It was the same question he had asked himself in the early hours when he had sat by his bedroom window looking out over his father’s dark garden. And when the answer had come it had been that which had suddenly made everything so clear. ‘You didn’t answer me when I asked you if you would spend some time with me,’ he urged her gently.
Marianne hesitated. Everything in her wanted to say yes but she was terrified, too. He had been so sure of what he wanted and what he didn’t want. This man, if he did but know it, held her heart in the palm of his hand and she wasn’t sure if he would throw it away when—if—he tired of her. She stared at him. Yesterday she would have been sure it would be a case of when he tired of her but something had changed. Now there was an if there, too. It was a faint hope but could she ignore it? Aware that she could be opening herself up for heartache on a scale she’d never known before, she said, ‘Yes.’
She hadn’t realised how tensely he had been holding himself until he relaxed, and then he smiled. ‘Good.’
His hand was gentle under her chin as he lifted her mouth to his and immediately her lips opened at his probing. The fire which was just waiting to ignite every time they touched blazed into being and he moved his body slightly, pressing her against the worktop so he could feel every soft curve, every contour.
Her hands slid up around his neck as she returned the need to be close, their bodies a mutual aphrodisiac that was more potent than any man-made brew.
‘You’re beautiful, inside and out,’ he murmured throatily. ‘Warm, soft, intoxicating. For weeks I haven’t been able to sleep properly for thoughts of you in my arms.’ He moved his hands over her body and she felt her nipples tighten under his light touch, their tips straining against the thin material of her top. ‘I want to eat you alive, do you know that? Devour you. Fill your body and your mind until there is only me in your world.’
She trembled; she couldn’t help it. Last night she had thought things were over for good and now…A soft warmth was spreading deep within her body as his hands and mouth worked their magic. His hard muscular frame, the sexy smell of his aftershave, the words he was muttering against her skin were taking her somewhere she had never been before. She felt as though she were one aching cell and if he didn’t relieve the pressure inside her she would die.
And then his mouth became slower, gentler, his hands settling round her waist and his body no longer pressed against hers. Drugged, she lifted heavy eyes to him to see what was wrong and saw him looking at her with an odd expression on his face. ‘We’re not going to rush this. It’s too important,’ he murmured hoarsely. ‘I want you to trust me—really trust me—and I have to earn that. I don’t want physical desire to cloud the issue and make you do something you’ll regret. Or at least be unsure about. You’re not the kind of woman who can give herself without it meaning more than—’ He shook his head as though he didn’t know how to continue.
Marianne pulled away slightly. Rafe had told her he’d indulged in an active sex life since his divorce and this was clearly a first for him. With her body burning and her head swimming with the impassioned words he had muttered, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In the event she did neither. Controlling the urge to fling herself on him and ask him to take her right there, on the kitchen floor, she said, ‘You’re a very surprising man. Do you know that?’ aiming to keep her voice from trembling. Miraculously it didn’t.
She was rewarded by his smile. It was rueful and yet carried something that made her toes curl. ‘Is that good?’
Before his apparent change of heart, he had been dangerous. Now her senses were telling her he was lethal. Heeding the inner voice, Marianne took her cue from Rafe. ‘Possibly,’ she said with a lightness she was proud of in the circumstances. ‘Now, shall I show you over the house before the builders arrive and you can see how far we’ve got? The bedrooms which needed an en suite bathroom have been completed but everything, including the others, needs decorating before we recarpet and change the furnishings and fixings, of course. It makes sense to leave all the house and have it done together. The new kitchen’s coming along OK but we’ve decided to leave the walkway and the new build for the flat for now and concentrate on this side of the house, getting this room converted and then building the extension for the two disabled suites.’
‘Fine.’ He drained his coffee, his eyes never leaving her face.
‘Rafe.’ She hesitated but she had to ask. ‘Exactly how long do you plan to be around?’
His jaw flexed. ‘Exactly? I’m not sure. I’ve got a good guy in the States who’ll take care of things up to a point but it’s asking for trouble to take my eye off the ball for too long. Ours may have to be a transatlantic relationship some of the time.’
Marianne nodded. That wasn’t a problem. The problem was that the enormity of the step she was taking was beginning to dawn. He hadn’t made any promises, any guarantees. When she had asked him what had changed his mind so fundamentally he’d evaded the issue. She believed him absolutely when he said he was rethinking his life but that still didn’t mean he would fall in love with her and, even if he did, if he would want her for ever.
But she wanted to take the chance. The blue gaze was on her and she took a deep breath. ‘I can do transatlantic,’ she said steadily, ‘as long as the time is weighted on this side of the ocean.’
‘It will be.’ His voice was quiet and intense. ‘Believe me, it will be.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE next month was the most deliriously happy of Marianne’s life, in spite of all the hard work during the day at Seacrest. Even that was enjoyable because Rafe arrived most mornings and stayed with her throughout the day before he went home to change to take her out in the evening.
They didn’t always go too far afield. Sometimes he arrived with a picnic Crystal had prepared and they took the basket down to the beach below the house where the waves rolled gently on the clean warm sand. They would walk and swim and explore the rock pools before eating, then stretch out under the dying sun and relax. At twilight they often had the beach all to themselves and that was when they began to talk, or at least when Rafe did. Marianne found he could express himself better when the shadows of night mellowed the bright light of daylight hours, and the sunsets were glorious. She heard about his childhood, which had been very happy on the whole although he hadn’t seen much of his father, who had been building the business up and working long hours and weekends. For that reason he had been close to his mother and very protective, that much Marianne came to understand and it explained a lot. He told her the bitter truth concerning his marriage and divorce and the life he had led since, some of which she found hard to hear. Occasionally she asked questions but mostly she let him talk and slowly she built up a picture of the complicated enigma that was Rafe.
They went to antique markets most Sundays before Rafe took her out to lunch, wandering among the stalls and lingering over the odd item that caught their eye. On one excursion Rafe bought her an exquisite little pearl and silver brooch set in the shape of a small hoop, each tiny seed pearl a flower with intricately worked silver leaves around it.
It was a relaxing, idyllic time and the weather continued to hold, one hot summer’s day following another. The sun tanned Marianne’s skin and highlighted her hair until it was more silver-blond than golden, emphasising her dark eyes and giving her elfin loveliness a fragility that made her look far younger than her twenty-seven years. Her days and nights were so filled with Rafe it seemed impossible he hadn’t always been there, his heated kisses and lovemaking introducing her to a sensual world she realised she’d had little experience of before.
But he always stopped before things went too far. Whether they were alone at Seacrest or on the beach, he never allowed himself to lose control. And she didn’t know how she felt about that.
Marianne was standing in her bedroom looking out of the window into a balmy summer’s night after a wonderful evening at the restaurant they had first gone to with Crystal and Andrew. The meal had been delicious but it had been the hours on the dance floor she had liked best, held close in Rafe’s arms for most of the time, breathing in the smell and feel of him and noticing the envious glances from some of the other female diners.
She frowned. Some of those women had been very beautiful and she fancied more than one would have been happy to ditch the man they were with if Rafe had lifted a little finger. Which brought her back yet again to the question which had been nagging at her for the last few days. What on earth was Rafe doing with her when he only had to raise an eyebrow to get anyone? And why, if he wanted to be with her, hadn’t he taken their lovemaking to its natural conclusion?
In her relationships before him, it had always been her who had put on the brake when things got too steamy. She had been close to going all the way several times but it had never seemed quite right; she had never imagined herself with the man in question forever. And somehow, with the example of her parents’ blissful marriage in front of her, she had wanted forever when she gave herself. Most of her friends had laughed their heads off when they’d discussed their love lives and she had admitted how she felt, but it hadn’t persuaded her to go against what she felt. Just the opposite, in fact. And now she had met the man who was her forever and there was certainly no question of having to fight him off, which was pretty ironic when you thought about it.
He had said they needed time to get to know each other. She bit on her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth. But in the last month they had been together nearly every day and certainly every night. They had packed months and months into a few weeks and discussed everything under the sun. How much getting to know each other did he want? And what was lacking in her that she couldn’t inflame him to a point where he lost control? Where the decision to go further would be up to her at least?
And if that happened? If he did want more? What then? Was she absolutely sure he would never leave her or was there still the possibility that one day he could walk away and leave her worse than dead, because without Rafe there would be nothing in the world to interest her, nothing to bring her happiness and joy. And he had never said he loved her. In the last weeks he had never once said that, and how could she give herself without knowing her love was returned?
She was going round in circles. She made a sound of deep irritation in her throat. Why couldn’t she just take each day as it came and forget the self-analysis once she was alone?
Because she loved him too much.
She shook her head at herself. And soon she would face a goodbye of sorts because he would be returning to America for a while. Crystal had confided that Andrew was becoming increasingly concerned at how long Rafe had been away from their business, although Andrew had not mentioned this to her and neither had Rafe. Not that she saw so much of Andrew these days since Rafe had been in England. Crystal had taken over the therapy sessions after she’d told the older woman what to do and it had proved a great success. Crystal and Andrew seemed to be getting on like a house on fire whenever she visited the cottage, and Andrew was looking the best he had in years, according to Rafe. Andrew and Crystal were going to miss each other when Crystal resumed her place at Seacrest.
Oh, why was life so complicated these days? And why, why had she badgered Crystal to find out from Andrew what Rafe’s wife had looked like? It had been from that point her insecurities had grown. Generously curved and voluptuous she definitely was not, and apparently that was the type of woman Rafe always favoured. She would have done well to heed the old adage that curiosity killed the cat or, in this case, her peace of mind.
Sleep. Marianne nodded to the thought. She needed to turn off her mind and get some sleep or else she would be fit for nothing in the morning. All the agonising in the world wouldn’t change the way Rafe saw them as a couple. In the final analysis, it was up to him.
When the insistent ring of her mobile phone brought her groaning from sleep, Marianne felt as though she had only been in bed for two or three hours. Then she realised there was a good reason for that; it was only four o’clock in the morning.
Dozily she reached for the phone, which she always placed on her bedside cabinet each night since she had been sleeping alone in the house, clicking on the overhead spotlight from the switch at the side of the headboard as she mumbled, ‘Yes?’
‘Marianne, it’s Rafe. I’m sorry to ring you at such an hour but I need to get back to the States immediately. There’s been a fire in one of the hotels and people are hurt. I’m in the car outside your house on my way to the airport but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye in person. Could you come down and let me in for a minute?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She was already out of bed and pulling on her robe, not bothering with slippers as she opened the bedroom door and flew downstairs.
When she flung open the front door he was standing in front of her, and her exhilaration that he hadn’t wanted to go without saying goodbye was dampened by the expression on his face. Before she could say a word, he said, ‘It’s bad, apparently. The hotel’s gutted and a family in one of the top-floor rooms got trapped. The firefighters got them out even
tually but the father is in a bad way and the two kids. I don’t know if it was the fire or the smoke.’
‘Oh, Rafe.’ Horrified, she held out her arms and he stepped forward into them. They clung together for a moment before he kissed her, a hungry kiss that sought comfort.
‘I feel I should have been there,’ he said wretchedly. ‘The annual review of that property was one due in the last month that Andy undertook. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good guy and he won’t have missed anything but I always do them. Dad and I always made health and safety our top priority.’
‘You can’t be everywhere doing everything.’
‘I know, I know. I’m not thinking straight.’ He pulled her into him again, kissing her hard so the warm scent of his body surrounded her. They swayed together for a moment, neither of them able to deny their mutual need, and then his arms tightened until she was lifted onto her toes, clinging to his broad shoulders, her head thrown back as he kissed her mouth, her neck, her throat.
‘I have to go.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘I don’t want to but I have to go. I’ll miss my flight.’
‘Yes, yes.’
But still they didn’t let go of each other, kissing with a starving intensity as though they were parting for good. As always it was Rafe who gained control first, gently putting her from him but still supporting her trembling body as he said, ‘I’ll ring you and let you know how things are, OK? But it might be hectic…’
‘No, that’s OK, I understand. Just ring when you can. I hope the children are all right, the father, too.’
There was a blue flame in the piercing eyes as he gazed down at her. ‘We have to talk. You know that, don’t you? We can’t go on as we are.’
She nodded. ‘But for now you have to go or you’ll miss your flight. Promise me you’ll drive carefully. This is the wrong side of the road for you, don’t forget.’