The rain was bashing hard against the window and some of the showier plants in the flower beds had been flattened to the ground. The dark blue petals of the delphiniums lay scattered on the sodden earth, as if some exotic bird had recently had its feathers plucked. Carly found herself remembering that expression her mother used to say: Fine feathers make a fine bird.
But now wasn’t a good time to remind herself why her doll-like sister had always been given the cream of the crop, while she had been dressed in more practical outfits. After all, why would ungainly Carly be given the delicate clothes favoured by a thespian mother, desperate to create a mini-me image of herself?
When she’d been old enough to buy her own clothes, she had become more adventurous, until that disastrous night which had ended up with her at first wanting to die and then to just fade into the background. And she had become very good at doing that.
She thought about the questions Luis had asked her. Intrusive questions about her sex life or, rather, the lack of it. For a moment she forgot the indignation that her employer should be arrogant enough to question her about something like that. Suddenly she got a glimpse of her life as others must see it. As someone who never went out and never had boyfriends. Who lived in the billionaire’s house and polished and cleaned it even when he wasn’t there. As someone who lived in a staid little world which kept her safe, but which now seemed to mock her.
And Luis didn’t know about her ambitions, did he? He didn’t realise that behind her dull image was someone who was going to do good some day. Someone who could hopefully use the brain she’d been given and not have to rely on her looks to better herself.
Pulling on a towelling robe, she hurried down to the pool to find Luis waiting for her and she couldn’t help the instinctive shiver which ran down her spine. Silhouetted against the enormous curved window which overlooked the woods, he was wearing nothing but a moulded pair of swim-shorts and, from where she stood, Carly thought he looked almost completely fit again.
Despite the severity of his injuries, he had certainly regained his physical strength very quickly—probably because he had been at the peak of fitness before the accident. His dark body still looked immensely tough, despite the crutches he was leaning on. Wavy black tendrils of hair kissed the base of his neck and he seemed lost in thought as he stared out at the Indian Leaf trees whose summer blossoms were creamy-white against the greyness of the day.
He turned as she walked in, and something very peculiar happened to her as their eyes met across the turquoise pool. It was like the disorientation she’d felt when she’d massaged him earlier, only it was worse. Much worse. She stared at him across the echoing space and there was no sound other than the quiet lapping of water and the unnaturally loud pounding of her heart. She could feel her breath drying in her throat and suddenly her chest was tight and she was having trouble breathing. It was happening again and she didn’t want it to happen. She didn’t want to look at a man like Luis and desire him. She didn’t want to feel this hot little ache at the pit of her belly or the sudden warmth which had started flushing over her skin. Why him, and why now?
Was it because she had touched him in an intimate way and broken a taboo which had haunted her for such a long time? She had run her fingers over his almost naked body and had been able to do so because everyone knew that the massage was a kind of healing.
But maybe she had been wrong. Maybe it had been more than that. What if that touch had woken something she’d thought was dead, but which had been lying dormant all this time? Something which was now assuming a life of its own and making her look at him with a terrible and tearing kind of hunger.
She blinked, wanting to clear her vision and make everything go back to how it had been before. She wanted to go back to thinking of Luis as a generous but extremely arrogant boss. She wanted to be troubled by nothing more onerous than trying to get her head round the book on quantum physics she was currently reading. Because she didn’t do desire and all the dark stuff which came with it. Wasn’t she a total failure in that department? Hadn’t she been told that in no uncertain terms?
She saw him glance across as she slipped off her robe and that glance, more than anything, killed off some of the feelings which had been multiplying like bacteria inside her. Was that disbelief she could read in his eyes? Of course it was. He’d probably never seen a woman who wasn’t a size zero. Looking at her curvy body, he might think that she usually finished up all the alfajores once he’d flown back to wherever was next on his exotic list of destinations. And he would be right.
Forcing a quick, professional smile, she walked towards him. ‘Ready?’ she questioned.
‘I’ve been ready for quite some time,’ he said acidly. ‘But, as usual, you were late.’
‘It took me a while to find my costume.’
‘Sorry for the inconvenience,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Perhaps I should have given you more warning. Written it down in triplicate and signed it first.’
She decided not to react. To just pretend that nothing was the matter, but it wasn’t easy when she was being confronted by a bare and powerful torso which was making her want to squirm with embarrassment. ‘Anyway, we’re here now,’ she said brightly. ‘Just make sure you go backwards down the ladder.’
‘I think I know how to get into the damned swimming pool by now.’
Carefully, she took the crutches from him and propped them up against the wall. ‘I was only trying to—’
‘Well, stop trying,’ he snapped. ‘I’m fed up with people trying. I’ve been doing this damned regime for weeks and I think I’ve just about managed to get my head round it. Next thing you’ll be teaching me how to cut up my meat using a knife and fork. Or maybe even start spoon-feeding me.’
For Carly, it was the final straw. Coming on top of the insecurity she was feeling at having to stand in front of him, shivering half to death in an unflattering swimsuit, and the fact that she had been shoehorned into a role she didn’t want, something inside her flipped. She turned and glared at him. ‘Do you have to be quite so bad-tempered, when I’m only trying to help you?’
There was a pause as their eyes clashed in a fierce and silent battle. She felt herself tense to find herself caught in that intense black spotlight and she wondered what snapped insult he was about to come out with next. And then, unexpectedly, he sighed.
‘I know you are,’ he said. ‘It’s only frustration which is making me so unbearable. The aftermath of this damned accident has gone on for weeks and sometimes it feels as if it’s never going to end.’
‘Yes.’ She chewed on her bottom lip. ‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.’
He raised his brows. ‘Unless you’re about to tell me that I am pretty unbearable generally?’
Quickly, she glanced down at his bare feet, thinking how pale and perfect his toenails looked against the dark olive of his skin. ‘That isn’t for me to say.’
‘No instant denial, then, Carly?’ he mocked. ‘Leading me to conclude that I am unbearable?’
She lifted her head then and met the mocking challenge in his eyes. ‘You aren’t exactly known for your sweet and even temper,’ she said, and to her surprise he actually laughed as he lowered his powerful body into the pool.
‘No, I suppose I’m not. Come on, Carly—aren’t you coming in?’ he questioned, hitting the surface of the water with the flat of his hand so that an iridescent little plume of spray went showering upwards and fell in tiny droplets which gleamed against his dark skin. ‘Mary always did.’
I’ll bet she did, thought Carly as she slipped into the water beside him. Yet wasn’t she doing exactly what Mary had been guilty of doing? She was having some very inappropriate thoughts about her boss, only she was also being a bit of a hypocrite, because hadn’t she disapproved of the physiotherapist’s behaviour?
She waded further into the water and shivered as the cool water reached her tummy. Goosebumps iced over her skin and she felt the tips of her breast
s hardening again, just as they’d done earlier.
In an attempt to conceal it, she leaned back against the tiled wall and splashed water over her arms. ‘You’re supposed to do ten lengths.’
‘I know I am, but I’m planning to do twenty.’
‘Do you think that’s wise?’
He gave her a hard smile. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’
She watched as he struck out, making no concessions towards his injuries as he cleaved through the water like a golden-dark arrow. He swam with the same energy and determination which he applied to everything in life, but after twelve lengths she could see that he had grown pale and his mouth was tight with tension.
‘Stop now,’ she said, as he came up for air, his black hair plastered to his head like a seal. ‘For heaven’s sake—slow down, Luis. You’re not in some kind of race.’
But he was stubborn, of course he was, and for him life was a race. She wasn’t surprised when he shook his head and continued but when he’d finished, he was exhausted. Hauling his body out of the water, he propped his elbows onto the edge of the pool and rested his head on them, saying nothing until he had regained his breath.
At last he looked up at her, his eyes gleaming blackly from between wet, matted lashes. ‘How was that?’
‘You know exactly how it was. You did twenty lengths—double that recommended by the physiotherapist. You want praise for disobeying her instructions?’
‘Sí. I demand praise. Heaps of it piled high onto my head. So why don’t you wipe that disapproving look off your face for once, and tell me how good I am?’ His mouth curved into a provocative smile. ‘You know you want to.’
Carly stiffened as something unfamiliar prickled over her skin. Was he flirting with her? She stared at him, her eyes blinking. Surely not. Unless flirting was almost like a reflex action for him, a bit like a goldfish gasping for air if somebody tipped its bowl onto the floor. It’s just sweet-talk and it doesn’t mean anything, she told herself fiercely. So don’t act as if it does. ‘You probably overextended yourself, but, yes, you were good,’ she agreed grudgingly. ‘Actually, you were very good.’
He raised his wet eyebrows. ‘Why, Carly,’ he murmured. ‘Praise from you is praise indeed.’
Flustered now, she tried not to let it show, dipping down below the surface of the water, mainly to try to distract herself again. But when she stood up again she could see that Luis’s eyes had narrowed and it took a moment for her to realise that he was staring at her with fascination. Or, more specifically, he was staring at her breasts.
The stretchy fabric of her modest one-piece had suddenly become tight and shiny and was clinging to her like a second skin. Embarrassingly, she could feel her nipples pushing against the wet fabric like two little bullets.
Had he noticed that?
Oh, God. What if he had?
‘I think you ought to get out now,’ she said quickly. ‘Before you get too cold.’
‘Or too hot,’ he amended, but his words were so indistinct that she told herself she must have misheard them. She must have done. Unless she was seriously imagining that Luis Martinez—one of the world’s greatest lovers—was making a suggestive remark to her.
‘Let’s go,’ she said, and dived beneath the water to escape his watchful black eyes.
She swam further than she had intended but she needn’t have bothered, because the cold water failed to have the effect it should have done. And when she rose to the surface, gasping for breath, she still had that same terrible aching in her breasts when she looked at him.
CHAPTER THREE
IN A STREAM of impatient Spanish, Luis cursed loudly and eloquently. Outside, the wind howled and rain battered remorselessly against the tall windows. Never-ending rivulets slid down the glass as the sound of the summer storm served as background noise in the scarlet and gold drawing room.
When was this damned rain ever going to stop?
Redirecting his gaze to the table at the far side of the room, he watched as Carly bent over a tray and poured him a tiny cup of espresso.
He felt another unwelcome jerk of desire, jackknifed through his groin with an exquisite precision which made him want to squirm. He scowled instead.
He was bored.
Bored and frustrated.
And one must be as a direct result of the other, he reasoned. Because why else would he be feeling such powerful pangs of lust for someone like little Miss Mouse?
Unobserved, he let his eyes drift over her, trying to work it out. For once, the shapeless cut of her jeans managed to enhance her figure, though not through any deliberate intention on her part. When she bent over like that, the denim stretched tightly over her bottom and emphasised the generous curves of her derriere. She ought to wear close-fitting clothes more often, he thought hungrily. Just as he ought to be in his study analysing the stock market, or reading through the stack of emails which Diego had sent through to him earlier. His mouth tightened and the need to distract himself from her luscious body became paramount.
‘Play cards with me, Carly,’ he said suddenly.
She turned round to look at him, her expression at first startled, then decidedly wary.
‘I don’t play cards,’ she said.
‘Then I’ll teach you.’
Still she hesitated.
‘What’s the matter?’ he drawled. ‘Afraid I’ll corrupt you? One game of poker and you’ll be gambling away all your hard-earned wages?’
Wishing that he would stop looking at her like that, Carly straightened up and carried his coffee across the room, putting it down on the table beside him.
Corrupt her? She wondered if he had any idea what a good job he’d already done in that department. Wouldn’t he be appalled if he knew how much he was on her mind these days? If he realised that she lay in bed thinking about him at night, when the silence and the darkness of her room seemed to magnify her thoughts. Thoughts which felt like longing, but which were closely followed by terrifying memories. Yet even those memories weren’t enough to prevent the tingling in her breasts, or the molten ache low in her belly as she lay beneath the feather-soft duvet.
She had felt...frustrated...but had found herself recoiling from needs which she had repressed for so long. She kept telling herself that all she needed was to maintain some kind of balance, until things got back to normal again.
But when would that be?
When her boss was well enough to go back to Buenos Aires, or New York, or France or wherever he was planning to take up residence next? When he put some natural distance between them, so that all these stupid feelings would fade away? When she could go back to the quiet, studious life she had forged for herself here and put him out of her mind.
And sitting playing card games wasn’t going to help, was it? Not on top of all the increasingly intimate massage sessions and those long and distracting sessions in the pool. She needed to spend less time with him, not more.
‘I don’t think we have any cards,’ she said.
‘Yes, we do. In my bedroom,’ he said. ‘In the desk. Second drawer, on the left. Go and get them, will you, Carly?’
She raised her eyebrows.
He sighed. ‘Please.’
‘What if I told you that I don’t particularly want to play cards.’
‘Then I might be forced to pull rank.’
‘So it’s an order?’
He slanted her an arrogant smile. ‘Most definitely it is.’
Carly turned and left the room without another word but her footsteps felt heavy as she mounted the stairs. She felt trapped—like a fly caught in the sticky temptation of a spider’s web. The weather had effectively kept them prisoners in this big house so that sometimes it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. And meanwhile, her dilemma was compounded by her growing feelings for him. Because even she recognised that something had changed.
In the past she had thought of him as a distant and demanding figure, but hadn’t that been preferable to thi
s? To finding that she was actually enjoying his company in a perverse sort of way. Just her and him and the worst summer rains the country had known for a decade. Cooped up and going stir-crazy, with the lanes around the estate thick with mud and puddles. Luis couldn’t drive and he didn’t want to take the train to London. And he told her that he didn’t want people coming over, drinking his wine and eating his food, and taunting him with all the things he found himself unable to do.
The most disturbing thing of all was that Carly was discovering how much she liked having him all to herself.
Pushing open the door to his bedroom, she entered the oak-panelled suite which took up almost all the first floor of the stately home. She’d been up here earlier, making his bed as she always did, changing his expensive Egyptian sheets, which were inevitably tangled—even when he slept alone.
Walking over to his desk, she found her gaze drawn to the two photos standing at either end of the gleaming surface. One was of his mother with her sad eyes and raven hair and the other an iconic shot of Luis, taken the first time he’d become world champion. His hair was wet with the spray of champagne and he was holding a massive silver trophy aloft.
It was funny, she’d seen these photos countless times and most days she dusted around their heavy silver frames without really noticing them. But today she felt like an intruder snooping around. As if her role in this house had subtly changed and she wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
‘Carly!’
Luis’s impatient voice rang through the house, and quickly she found the pack of cards and ran back downstairs to find him sitting where she’d left him.
He glared at her. ‘What kept you?’
‘I didn’t realise I was being timed. I was just daydreaming.’
‘And what were you daydreaming about?’ he questioned silkily.
She could feel the hot lick of colour to her cheeks, terrified he might guess. ‘Nothing,’ she said quickly and walked over to the card table.
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