Rafael's Suitable Bride

by Cathy Williams

  ‘She is a project,’ he said slowly.

  ‘A worthwhile one, I hope.’

  ‘That…’ Rafael looked at his secretary thoughtfully, ‘…is something we shall just have to wait and see.’

  It was cold and breezy outside and already getting dark. He debated whether to hail a cab, but decided against it. He rarely walked anywhere, mostly because he couldn’t spare the time, and the exercise would do him good. He remembered when he used to play sport. Every sport, excelling in most. Those days seemed to be a lifetime away, before work had become the all-consuming beast it now was.

  Before he started indulging in the pointless exercise of reminiscing, Rafael simply refocused on the matter in hand—getting to the school grounds, the name of which Patricia had found out without difficulty, finding Cristina, vetting the Martin character for himself.

  Unsurprisingly, the grounds were not located at the school but a bracing fifteen minute walk away. He was pointed in the right direction by a very helpful lady at the school reception desk, and arrived twenty minutes after the football coaching had commenced.

  Under the glaring floodlights of the football pitch, he could make her out, surrounded by a meagre assortment of girls who seemed to shuffle about lethargically, while on the sidelines, a large number of boys were making known their thoughts of girls intruding on their territory. The heckling, from a distance, was good-natured, but rowdy, and a couple of the girls drifted away from the pitch to take up ranks with the boys.

  Rafael felt a sudden alien surge of protectiveness, but he didn’t hurry. Instead, he scoured the pitch for Earring Man, who was noticeably absent.

  Then he walked slowly towards the rapidly diminishing group. At this rate, he thought, she would be left with no one to coach, and where the hell was the man who should have been helping her on her first day?

  A warm glow of satisfaction spread through him as he felt vindicated in his opinion of the man. Maybe not a thug but definitely a loser.

  He was smiling by the time he was within earshot of her. What should have been a coaching session had apparently turned into a coaxing session, but even as she was in the middle of speaking a further two girls, who had been standing at the back kicking the ground in a desultory manner, drifted off to the safety of the group of boys.

  She didn’t see him at all. In fact, she was only aware of his presence because the jeers on the sidelines had fallen quiet and all eyes were directed to a point just left of her shoulder.

  Rafael, skilled in reading an audience, and even more skilled in a sort of a silent but brutally effective intimidation, now called upon both talents.

  He flashed a smile at Cristina, who was gaping at him in astonishment, then he looked at the now-mute crowd and simply took control.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CRISTINA hadn’t known precisely what to expect, but she had been disappointed and taken aback to realise that nothing concrete had been arranged. Martin had made it known during his sports lessons with the kids that they would be initiating a course of football coaching towards getting a girls’ team, and had recruited several possibilities, but beyond that he had done very little.

  So she had arrived at the school grounds to find her prospective team, but a Martin virtually on the run because his netball team was playing an away game and he had to race halfway across London to get there. He had been full of apologies and had given a pep talk to the girls, while shouting down the boys, and then had disappeared, leaving her in full and complete control of a group of girls inappropriately dressed who seemed to have attended the coaching session out of curiosity and not much else.

  Cristina had eyed the glittery trainers and the pink and white track-suits with a sinking heart.

  Having never been confronted with a group of young people hell-bent on not listening to a word she had to say, never mind getting themselves dirty on a cold February evening, she had been floundering when Rafael had appeared. Literally like a knight in shining armour. Again. She had almost sagged to her knees in relief.

  And he had just…taken over. Cristina had never seen anything like it in her life before. He fought battles in the boardroom, but it appeared that he could also fight on the playing fields, and never mind his sharp suit. He had appeared, sussed the situation, and had immediately been prepared to get his hands dirty so that he could help her!

  In an instant, Cristina had forgotten her previous insistence that she didn’t require looking after, that she could take care of herself. She had just watched, fascinated, as he’d corralled the girls, who’d been seemingly over-keen to prove themselves on a football pitch never mind the sparkly shoes. Cristina had joined in when the team was in full flow and had taken over. She, unlike the remainder of her team, had dressed very appropriately in clothes that were designed for cold, damp, rain and mud.

  An hour later and she had more than her fair share of recruits signing up for the term, and as they left the field Cristina turned to Rafael with a grateful smile.

  ‘You’re always rescuing me from tricky situations,’ she told him, generous as always in her honesty. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t turned up.’ She cast a critical eye at him. ‘You’re muddy.’

  ‘Next time I’ll come better prepared.’ Rafael, never having seen himself as the sort of man who went around rescuing damsels in distress, felt quite pleased with himself.

  ‘I’ll be fine next time. Really.’ They fell into step, leaving the grounds behind him.

  ‘Where was the Martin character?’

  ‘Oh, he introduced me to the girls, but then he had to rush off for a netball match. Not his fault.’

  ‘You’re too generous,’ Rafael said shortly. ‘The very least the man could have done was to stick around and show you the ropes on your first day.’

  ‘I know,’ Cristina said vaguely. ‘But his match had been arranged a long time before he knew that I would be coming here. I’m just happy that he gave me the chance to do this.’

  Rafael frowned, not caring for the way she immediately rushed into the man’s defence.

  ‘You’ll be royally taken advantage of with an attitude like that,’ he told her darkly, and he felt her briefly touch his arm.

  ‘You’re far too cynical, Rafael. Why would Martin take advantage of me? I’m volunteering to do this! It’s hardly as though he’s going to rope me in to do all manner of school activities. He knows I’ve got a full-time job with the flower shop.’

  ‘You can never tell. You’re far too trusting.’

  ‘Well, that’s not such a bad thing, is it?’

  Rafael laughed dryly. ‘I wouldn’t know. It’s not a trait I’m familiar with. In the cut-throat world of business, having a trusting nature is like loading a gun and pointing the barrel at your head.’

  Cristina shuddered. ‘Which is why I will never get involved in that world.’

  ‘No. I can’t say I can see you there.’ Rafael, imagining her sitting in a board room discussing mergers and acquisitions, couldn’t resist a smile. It felt surprisingly good to be walking along the busy London streets with his shoes muddy, his suit fit for the bin and his trench coat whipping around him. ‘There’s no point my going back to the office,’ he told her suddenly. ‘I’ll take you out to dinner.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘I realise that.’ He stuck out his hand and magically a taxi appeared. He pulled open the door, gave the cab driver her address and turned to her. ‘Well?’

  ‘Yes!’ Cristina said breathlessly.

  This wasn’t any kind of date. She knew that. Rafael was not the sort of man to be attracted to her. But still…it felt like a date and she showered quickly and dressed accordingly, making it casual, but as sexy as she could given the restrictions of her figure. Instead of her usual oversized jumper, she wore a tightly fitted knitted long-sleeved top in a pale apricot colour. The jeans remained the same but with boots, and she finger-brushed her hair and left it loose.

  It took he
r less than forty-five minutes from start to finish and her eyes were bright when she rejoined him in the kitchen, where he had helped himself to some water while he waited.

  She looked good.

  Rafael gazed at her in astonishment because the figure only briefly glimpsed before now revealed itself as curvaceous and ultra-feminine. A tantalising strip of cleavage pouted provocatively at him from between the folds of her coat.

  Sweet natured, naive and from the right background. She would never demand anything, and would never see him as a bank balance in need of depleting. If there was one thing he had established beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was that she was uninterested in money. She had plenty at her disposal, thanks to her parents, and yet no one would ever have guessed it. He continued to look at her speculatively until she began to squirm under his scrutiny.

  ‘What?’ she laughed nervously. ‘Have I got something on my face?’

  ‘You look good.’ This was the first time Rafael had ever contemplated approaching a relationship with longevity in mind. At least, the first time since his disastrous marriage all those years ago. Then, he had made a terrible mistake. It had been a vital learning curve, and Rafael had no intention of repeating his error. He had never allowed his mother to dictate his love life, but this time he was prepared to allow that time was marching on. The vision of a lonely old man had spread before him in all its dubious glory and he hadn’t cared for it.

  This woman fitted the bill of a suitable wife. The icing on the cake was that the union would be given full approval by his mother, who had uniformly disliked every single woman he had ever brought to see her, and that, he had always known, included his ex-wife.

  ‘Thank you.’ Cristina went bright red and reminded herself that this was not a date. Like he had said, neither of them could have really returned to work, and he’d probably had nothing better planned for the evening.

  ‘Now to my place so that I can shower, and then we could head off. What kind of food do you like?’

  ‘All kinds!’ She chattered happily as they jumped into another taxi for the twenty-minute trip to his apartment. She confessed to having a sweet tooth, filled him in on the numerous diets she had sampled over the years, talked about what she wanted to do to her football side, and then anxiously asked him whether he thought it was a good idea or not.

  She was simple and uncomplicated and he knew, instinctively, that she would not put him in the pressurised situation of having to dismiss her because she had overstepped her brief.

  ‘Did you mean what you said about coming back for another go at the football?’ she asked suddenly. ‘You told me that the next time you would be better prepared.’

  Rafael had enjoyed the game. He had not really played, just stood on the sidelines giving her a hand, but now he thought that maybe he would make the time. He had played both rugby and football all the way through school and university and had excelled at both. However, along with most other leisure activities, he had promptly dropped both the minute his working life had taken over. Now, perhaps, he would redress the balance.

  He nodded slowly and looked across at her expectant face. ‘Why not? I can arrange to come along at least now and again, especially if your so-called buddy is going to do another runner.’

  It felt good to be accommodating, and he knew that his efforts would be worth it. He would court her the good old-fashioned way. Marriage as a business proposition would not be her style, and he wouldn’t blame her. But it certainly would work for him. Love was a complication, and after years of unforeseen complications in his dealings with women he was ready to concede that what he needed was a marriage of convenience.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You sound shocked.’ He gave her a half smile that made her pulses race.

  ‘I am,’ Cristina told him truthfully. ‘I got the impression that you didn’t make time in your life for very many leisure activities, least of all football with a bunch of high-school kids.’

  ‘I’ll have you know that I was a pretty impressive player in my time.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Work happened.’

  ‘Well, it’s never too late to loosen those chains,’ Cristina said gently.

  ‘Chains?’

  ‘The ones that are keeping you tied to your desk.’

  They had reached their destination. Was it her imagination or were they beginning, against all odds, to bond? She could scarcely believe it. He was utterly out of her league, at least in terms of physical attraction and social savoir faire. She, like him, came from a privileged background, but there the similarity ended. And yet she could feel something tentative between them. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time, and it made her head spin, as if she was twelve again and on one of those terrifying rollercoaster rides she had gone on with her friends.

  Having no experience on which to fall back, Cristina contented herself with some pleasurable fantasies in which Rafael played the starring role.

  When he emerged, dressed, they had already had two children and a couple of dogs.

  She flushed guiltily, relieved that he couldn’t read her mind.

  They went to a Thai restaurant, and it was only when they were nearly through a bottle of wine that Rafael asked her casually how it was that she had never had a boyfriend.

  ‘Of course I’ve had boyfriends!’ Cristina told him hotly. ‘I just never met anyone I wanted to settle down with.’

  ‘And that would be because…?’

  ‘I must be fussy,’ she responded airily, pleasantly heady after the wine.

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Rafael leaned forward. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright. She wasn’t flirting with him, but there was something undeniably sexy about her—they way her lips were parted, the way her heavy breasts bounced when she gesticulated, which she did a lot. He reached out, forked one of the prawns on her plate and placed it to her mouth.

  Cristina went a brighter shade of pink and nibbled the proffered delicacy. Such a small gesture, but it sent her pulses racing and made the hairs on the back of her neck tingle.

  ‘You’re blushing,’ he said, flirting outrageously but keeping his expression perfectly serious. ‘Why? Do I make you nervous?’

  ‘A little, I suppose,’ she confessed. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Anything you like.’ Rafael sat back, sipped his wine and watched her carefully over the rim of his glass.

  ‘Are you flirting with me?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Are you flirting with me?’

  Rafael, taken aback by the directness of the question, was stumped for words. ‘What if I were?’ He finally answered her question with one of his own.

  ‘I would ask you why.’

  This was not a conversation Rafael had ever conducted with a woman before, but then he had to concede that this woman was not exactly like any woman he had ever dated before. Next she would be asking him if this, in fact, was a date, and if so could he please give her his definition of a date!

  ‘Well?’ It took some courage, but Cristina was determined to find out where exactly she stood. There would be nothing more mortifying than to conduct herself in a manner that suggested she wanted more from him than he was prepared to give. He was a man of the world. The last thing he needed was to lend a helping hand only to find the subject of his noble attentions was becoming a nuisance.

  ‘If it’s flirting when I tell you that you look sexy, then I’m flirting.’ The roundabout approach was, he was finding, strangely enjoyable. Something of a turn-on, in fact.

  ‘Sexy? Me?’

  Rafael leant towards her, his face still serious. ‘I’m a connoisseur of women and you have a very delectable body, Cristina.’

  ‘I’m…I’m not sure that I approve of…of having my body looked at…in that way…’ she stuttered, swallowing a deep breath. ‘I’ve never appreciated men who—who treat women like objects.’

  ‘And I apologise if that was the impression I gave you.’ The
ir food was placed in front of them, lots of little taster dishes, with the delicious aroma of coconut and peanut.

  Cristina stared down at the fragrant selection, dismayed to find that, although she had been sticking up for her principles, she wished that she hadn’t wrecked the atmosphere in the process. And why kid herself? She had liked his remark. It had been out of order, but she liked that he had been looking at her body. Her mind had gone into overdrive and she had pictured him touching her. Just thinking about it now made her feel hot and bothered.

  ‘Okay.’ She smiled shyly at him. That was her way of flirting. She thought it might have been more coy if she hadn’t gone bright red, but she was new to this game.

  Rafael, smiling lazily back at her, knew that he was winning, and a very pleasant game it was turning out to be too. Not for a moment did he think that he was being unfair, that he was using his tremendous and powerful appeal to sneak under her skin and break down her defences. Indeed, he thought that he was doing her a favour in not sitting her down and discussing with her, rationally and thoughtfully, the pros and cons of marriage as a business transaction. If that wasn’t respect for her values, then what was?

  He raised his glass to her in an indolent toast and kept his fabulous eyes pinned to her face as they sipped their wine.

  ‘Do you know?’ Cristina confided as she finally closed her knife and fork on what had been a superb meal. ‘I feel as though I’ve known you for ages. Isn’t it weird?’

  ‘Weird,’ Rafael agreed. She was as transparent, he mused, as a pane of glass. There was no teasing ‘getting to know you, getting to know me’ game, no suggestive remarks designed to get his appetite whetted, no come-hither looks to pique his curiosity.

  ‘Except,’ she frowned, ‘Idon’t really, do I?’ She linked her fingers together and stared at him, thrilling at the sheer beauty of his face, his sensational sexual allure. He was flirting with her, teasing her, and although she didn’t know why, because he could have snapped his fingers and had any woman he wanted on the face of the planet, she was happy to just accept the situation as it presented itself to her. She wasn’t someone who spent a lot of time analysing things. What good did that ever do? Growing up, she had had friends who’d analysed relationships into an early grave, and she had learnt that trying to read too much into things was usually a cause of unnecessary stress. Aside from that, her sunny personality was not given to brooding on possibilities.