He took a step back, removing himself from the warmth of her skin and smell of her perfume. He gave a shake of his head. ‘This isn’t right, Lara. Not for you. Not for me. I’m not your kind of guy. I can’t give you any kind of promise.’
His body was screaming at him, Fool! Fool!
The irony of how he normally acted was killing him. But he just couldn’t do this.
He couldn’t do this to her.
Something flashed in her eyes and she leaned forward. Her soft skin came into contact with his cheek, her voice low. ‘Don’t give me that. You and I both know we move in different circles. I’m not your barracuda girl. And I don’t need any guy treating me as if I’m not good enough. I’m past that.’
She spun on her impossibly high heels. The gold jewels and fringes on her dress spun out as she turned, catching the lamplight from the casino, refracting and lighting up the street around them like disco balls as she ran down the steps and jumped into the nearest cab.
Reuben’s breath had caught somewhere in his throat. He could hear the theme tune of a movie play in his ears.
Every part of him was cringing. He’d handled this so badly. She didn’t realise he was walking away because he actually felt something for her.
If anything, he wasn’t good enough for her, not the other way around.
He turned his head towards the ship moored beneath them as he kicked his heels.
Maybe the walk back would cool him off?
One thing was for sure. He certainly needed it.
CHAPTER NINE
LARA WAS MORE than mad. Reuben Tyler had ruined her night’s sleep in the world’s most comfortable bed, with a stunning view of Monte Carlo. Selfish git.
He hadn’t kissed her since that day in the café, so when she’d kissed him last night in the casino she hadn’t expected to have to draw him a diagram of what came next.
The guy was supposed to be a bad boy.
So bad, that he’d pulled away from their kiss and practically frog-marched her out of the casino. What on earth had she done that had been so wrong?
Was it against the law in Monte Carlo to kiss in the casino?
She wasn’t even sure where he’d gone last night and that made her even madder. She’d been too tense to sleep. Had Reuben gone back to the casino to find a more ‘suitable’ woman? She had visions right now of finding a huge pair of scissors and shredding all his clothes and tossing them over the balcony.
Now she was lying in bed wondering what on earth to say when he finally showed up.
She hated feeling like this, hated feeling as if she wasn’t good enough. She’d already had one dose of that from Josh and she certainly didn’t need it from Reuben.
What made her cringe was the fact that she must have read much more into their kiss than he had. He couldn’t possibly know the way it had sent electric pulses racing through her senses. The way it had scrambled every sensible thought in her brain. And the way it had sent her imagination into overdrive.
She hadn’t wanted him to stop. She’d had very vivid ideas of what she’d wanted to happen next—but he obviously hadn’t.
It was embarrassing. It was humiliating. Maybe this was normal behaviour for Reuben because, let’s face it, she didn’t really know him that well. Two weeks trapped under the same roof as someone didn’t mean that you got to know them. It was clear she’d barely scratched the surface.
He’d mentioned no relationships. He hadn’t even talked about his family. Just a few hints about bad blood between him and his parents. There were enough pictures of him online with pretty girls to fill a hundred albums. So this was it for him. Find a girl. Kiss her.
Something twisted inside her gut. There was no way bad-boy Reuben didn’t follow through to the next event. So what exactly was wrong with her?
She flung the covers back, grabbed some clothes and stomped into the shower. Today’s stop was Château d’If. She didn’t care one bit what Reuben’s plans were. She’d dreamt about this place since she’d first read The Count of Monte Cristo. There was no way she was missing this place for any man.
* * *
Reuben’s face creased into a rueful smile as he opened the door of the suite and heard the bang of the bathroom door.
She was up. The fireworks would start any time.
He’d spent the night in one of Monte Carlo’s sumptuous five-star hotels. Surprisingly, the bed had felt strangely empty and cold. It might have been just what he’d needed last night, but this morning he could do with a little heat again. And that little flash of satin nightdress and glimpse of leg might be all it would take.
What was wrong with him? He was a fully functioning man. It was inevitable that women would have instinctual reactions to parts of his anatomy. Normally, when he knew the attraction was mutual he wouldn’t hesitate to pursue it.
But with Lara? Things felt entirely different.
He was getting to know her in ways he didn’t normally get to know other women.
He’d seen the primal fight for survival when he’d first met her, closely followed by the hurt in her eyes and a glimpse of vulnerability. That’s what had done it for him.
That’s what had made him want to pound Josh into the nearest wall. That’s what had made him want to make sure that he didn’t hurt her in a similar way.
He loved her one-liners and quick comebacks. He knew that part of it was self-preservation—that wall that she kept around herself. He just wasn’t entirely sure what was stopping him from bursting through it to get exactly what he wanted.
Lara had wanted him last night.
Just like he’d wanted her.
The mood, the atmosphere, the surroundings, the way she’d looked, everything had been perfect. If you could plan the perfect evening, that would have been it.
So why had it ended with him sleeping in an empty hotel room?
Because after he’d kissed her, after his hormones had threatened to sweep him away, she’d called him on it. She’d asked him what this was. And he’d been unable to answer. All he’d been able to do was step back. Step away.
Because Reuben Tyler didn’t have a clue.
Everything about this was alien to him. A crazy little thought was starting to spin around in his head. Was this what things were like when you started to fall for a person?
How could people live like this? How could they function?
One hand didn’t know what the other was doing. Should he kiss her? Shouldn’t he? How could he walk away from Lara the next morning and carry on as normal? Because that’s what he’d normally do. But every instinct in his body, every cell was crying out and telling him that this time he couldn’t do that.
Caleb. That’s the only person he would talk to about any of this kind of stuff. And Caleb would probably laugh him out of the room, because Reuben would never bring up this kind of thing. He just wasn’t built this way. Or so he’d thought.
He could remember a few years ago Caleb bursting into his flat to tell him he’d met her. He’d met the one. Addison. The woman who’d seemed to hate every single thing about him. The woman that Lara seemed to hold in high regard.
He hadn’t got it. He just hadn’t. It wasn’t that Addison wasn’t beautiful and charming, because she was—or at least she could be if she wanted to. And what had been crystal-clear was the love and devotion in her eyes for Caleb. He had never doubted for a second how Addison felt about his friend.
There was a quiet confidence about Addison that made her different. She’d never scream. She’d never shout. Reuben had experienced a few of Caleb’s previous girlfriends. At one point he’d asked him if he shopped in Tantrums-R-Us.
And it didn’t matter that Addison didn’t really like him. What mattered was what he saw when Caleb and Addison were in a room together. The way their e
yes could find each other across a crowded room. The way Caleb would stop in mid-sentence just to catch his wife’s eye and send her a smile.
A special kind of smile that made you wonder what it meant.
All of this had been in some silly cosmic cloud above Reuben’s head. He’d never got it. But more importantly he’d never wondered. And now he did.
He’d certainly never witnessed it at home. His parents could barely stand to be in the same room together. They had been hateful to each other—more obsessed with money and prestige. It hadn’t been an environment to bring a child up in. He could testify to that.
* * *
But Reuben always knew how to play a deal. Years of being a sports agent had made him able to read people and know how to deal with them.
Now, for the first time, he’d no idea what to do next.
And it unnerved him. Lara Callaway unnerved him.
He’d thought that nigh on impossible.
* * *
She was ready. She was ready to face the world and come out fighting. Bree had a good eye. The white Capri pants and pink printed shirt covered in flying birds was knotted at her waist. She pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail and finished with a slick of pink lipstick. All she needed now was her wedges.
She flung open the bathroom door and stepped straight into Reuben’s broad chest. This suite wasn’t really as big as it needed to be.
‘Owf!’
He held up his hand. Her wedges were dangling from his finger. ‘Thought you might need these.’
She stared up at his face. He was smiling. There was no trace of last night. He’d changed into a short-sleeved shirt and trousers. It was clear he was ready to go to Château d’If. Where on earth had he been?
She sniffed unconsciously—trying to find the smell of another woman on him. But there was nothing. All she got was a huge whiff of Reuben Tyler’s pheromones. The thing that drove her nigh on crazy.
‘Have a good night?’ she snapped.
It was stupid. Even though she was still mad with him, he was here. Here, with her.
He gave a nonchalant nod. Or he tried to. She could see the glimmer of worry behind his eyes. ‘I checked into a hotel in Monte Carlo. Didn’t want to upset you any more.’
Her stomach flipped over and unwanted tears brimmed behind her eyes. That made him sound considerate. As if he’d actually thought about what had happened between them last night. As if she wasn’t quite as unworthy as last night had made her feel.
It still didn’t help the fact that he looked relaxed and refreshed after sleeping in a comfortable hotel last night while she’d tossed and turned all night.
‘The tour doesn’t leave for another hour. We’ve plenty time for breakfast. Let’s go to the restaurant this morning. The buffet is always a bit frantic.’
He was talking as if nothing had happened. But, then, to Reuben, obviously nothing had happened. She didn’t know whether to react or not.
He leaned against the wardrobe and folded his arms across his chest. ‘You know, some people might ask questions about why you want a visit a prison on an island so much?’
How should she play this? She could hit with all her emotions from last night. But in the cool light of day they seemed a bit out of place. A bit over-dramatic. Maybe she should do what he was doing? Act as if nothing had happened.
She picked up her bag. ‘Some people might find that’s none of their business,’ she answered smartly, as she grabbed her wedges and pushed her feet into them.
She headed for the door, pretending not to notice that Reuben was following her. It was obvious he fully intended to accompany her as usual this morning. Confusion was fluttering through her mind. Didn’t he even want to talk about last night? Want to talk about that kiss?
They rode up in the central glass elevator and stepped out at the restaurant. Reuben had been right. It was much calmer here. Sometimes the breakfast buffet felt like survival of the fittest. Why hadn’t she thought to come to the restaurant before?
A waiter showed them to their table and took their order. ‘Toast and poached eggs and lemon tea, please.’
‘Toast, bacon, a fried egg and some coffee, please.’ Reuben nodded.
The waiter disappeared quickly.
Lara licked her lips. She was determined not to speak first, determined that he not know how much his rejection last night had hurt.
The ship was due to dock at Marseille later this morning. There was a variety of excursions available but Lara had already pre-booked the one to Château d’If. It had been one of the reasons she’d picked this particular cruise.
‘What’s the attraction with Château d’If?’ he asked again.
She picked at the white linen tablecloth. ‘I read a lot as a kid. I know that Alexander Dumas used it for inspiration for The Count of Monte Cristo. I’ve always wanted to visit it.’
‘You wouldn’t rather browse the shops in Marseille?’
She shook her head. ‘And look at more things I can’t afford? No, thanks. I’d much rather see the island that inspired my favourite book.’
The waiter appeared again with the coffee and lemon tea. Lara poured her tea and took a sip just as Reuben’s phone buzzed.
She frowned as he pulled it from his pocket. ‘Who needs hand-holding today?’
He glanced at the screen and pushed the phone back into his pocket. ‘Nobody.’
She kept her gaze steady. ‘Is that the footballer again? Are you still ignoring his calls?’
He sighed. ‘And his voice mails and his texts and his emails.’
She smiled. ‘He’s persistent, then?’
Reuben nodded.
The waiter appeared and placed their breakfasts down before them. Lara started buttering her toast. ‘Is that a good or a bad thing?’
This time it was Reuben who frowned. ‘I’m not sure. If you’d asked me last week I would have told you that an agent should always be available for his clients.’
She paused her knife. ‘And now?’
He met her gaze. ‘I don’t know. I’ve answered any queries from all my other clients. But none of them are as demanding as he is. They can all have their moments—but none of those are quite like his.’
‘Does he even know he’s being unreasonable?’
Reuben shrugged. ‘That’s the biggest issue. I don’t think so. By the time he finally gets me he’ll be furious and probably give me an earful.’
She picked up the salt and pepper. ‘So why haven’t you dumped him?’
He took a sip of his coffee. ‘That’s exactly what Caleb asked me. He doesn’t like him either.’
Lara shook her head. ‘Then I don’t get it. The guy gives you constant headaches. He’s disrespectful to those around him. He treats the people at the club poorly. In fact, he treats most people in life poorly. Why continue to represent someone like that? Surely his behaviour reflects badly on you too?’ She paused for a second as she cut her eggs. ‘Or is the pay cheque just too much?’
His fork stopped midway to his mouth. ‘Why would it be about the money?’ he snapped.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Because there doesn’t seem to be another single good reason to keep him on your books.’
Reuben shifted in his chair. It was one of the few times she’d actually seen him looking uncomfortable.
He sighed again. ‘It’s not quite as easy as that.’
She sat down her knife and fork. ‘Well, explain it to me.’
Reuben ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Not everyone has a fairy-tale life, Lara. I brought him here from Brazil. He might not have come from the slums but he wasn’t far off it. He started with one of the lower-league clubs, but as soon as his talent was noticed, the offers came in thick and fast. He wasn’t used to having money. He’s not u
sed to fame or the way celebrity is here. I feel as if I’ve left him exposed to something he wasn’t ready for.’
She could see the worry etched on his face. ‘How long has he been here now?’
‘Four years.’
She tried to be reasonable. ‘In that case, he’s had four years to learn how to deal with things. He’s had four years with English clubs. He’s had plenty of time to learn some manners and how to conduct himself. If he hasn’t learned by now, it’s unlikely he will.’
She took a deep breath. He’d made that little comment about fairy-tale lives. It seemed to have opened a door for her.
‘Tell me about Ireland,’ she said.
‘What do you want me to tell you?’ His reply was kind of sharp.
‘You haven’t mentioned much about your family. Do you have brothers, sisters? Do you see a lot of your mum and dad?’
He twitched. Or was it a visible shudder? ‘I’m an only child.’
‘And do you go back home much?’ she pressed.
He almost rolled his eyes. ‘Not if I can help it.’
She put down her knife and fork. ‘What does that mean? Surely you never got into that much trouble at home?’
He shook his head. ‘Even if I had, no one would have noticed. Not everyone has the idyllic parents that you do, Lara.’
She felt offended. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He shrugged as he kept eating. ‘You’ve said that your mum and dad are great. They’d be happy to have you back home and you’d be happy to go back if you could.’ He shook his head. ‘Let’s just say I’m at the other end of the spectrum.’
She frowned. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means my parents couldn’t wait to send me to boarding school and I couldn’t wait to go.’
Her stomach twisted. This was all so wrong. No kid should feel like that. ‘You don’t see your parents?’
‘Not if I can help it. I went to see Dad four years ago in hospital and that was it. In all my life I can’t remember my mother and father being in the same room and not fighting. Most of the time they didn’t even realise I was there.’
Holiday with the Millionaire Page 12