Knight in Tattooed Armor: International Billionaires XII: The Latinos

by Caro LaFever

  Without conscious thought, her body bowed toward him.

  “There.” With the snap of the waistband on her skin, he stepped back. “All taken care of.”

  She jerked her head up to meet a stoic, uncommunicative stare. Her heart sank, and it stunned her that it would.

  But it did.

  “Now you can cook breakfast.” He waved at the box of MREs before heading toward the door. “I’ll eat mine outside.”

  “Wait.” She didn’t know why she said the word, only that she had to. There had been something in the moment when he’d curled his body around hers. Something in the touch of his fingers on her skin.

  Something.

  “What?” He pivoted and arched a thick brow at her. Yet, at least he’d stopped.

  Her mind scrambled to find a topic that wouldn’t show her sudden vulnerability. “Your employees.”

  “Yeah.” Leaning on the doorway, his expression grew sardonic. “I have employees.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “How do you know? I hadn’t thought about it until now, but not many people know about my island.” He straightened, his gaze growing keen. “How did you find out?”

  “Just asking around.” She didn’t want to get his housekeeper in trouble, so she rushed on, grabbing straws as they came. “Your employees live in that village on the beach.”

  “ Sì.” Again, the one word slithered through her with a soft menace.

  “They’ll be back, won’t they?” The thought made her hope rise, even as her heart contracted at the look of contempt crossing his face. “Now that the hurricane is over, won’t they—?”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Well, wouldn’t we both—?”

  “You’d like to have my staff cook your meals and clean the terrace.”

  He’d taken her verbal gambit the wrong way. Sure, she’d like to be more comfortable than she was, but she hadn’t meant this topic to cast her into the spoiled-girl mold again. Not in his eyes. Not now. “I only meant—”

  “They’re not going to rescue you, Princesa.” He shook his head, his curly hair shifting around his face. The dim light caught the strands, laying silver beams into the blackness. “I gave them all two weeks’ vacation. They won’t be back to do the dirty work for you.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that.” By the expression on his face, he didn’t believe her and she knew whatever she said about the current subject, it would only make it worse. To distract him, she pulled the box closer on the counter and plucked two MREs from the selection. “Never mind. Scrambled eggs, or cheese omelet?”

  Jiggs barked right at her feet, making her jump.

  “I got you, boy.” With one last look at her, an opaque glance she couldn’t define, he walked to the counter and kneeled, pulling the cooler toward him.

  His dog’s tail thumped on the floor.

  “Yeah, Jiggers, it’s chow time.” He yanked out two more plastic bags filled with raw beef and vegetables. “Go get your bowl.”

  The skitter of toenails and the crash of the dish made her chuckle.

  “Which breakfast do you want?” she asked again.

  He poured the beef and veggies into the bowl and then, with a careful swish, mixed them together, just as he had last night. His dog peered into the dish, too, panting with anticipation. There was something about the sight of the two heads almost touching, the black curls of the man, the gray-blue tufts of the animal, that made her heart squeeze. The gentle way he mixed the food with his big hands, the way Jiggs leaned on his arm, the care and concern written across his face—it all moved her.

  He might be a jerk, yet she realized once more, there was a tenderness to the man.

  Before she fell another step down the road to actually liking the guy, she straightened. “Okay, ignore me and I get to choose. Omelet for you, scrambled for me.”

  A roll of his broad shoulders told her he couldn’t care less. His dog started gulping down the food and his hand ran across the head between the ears, a gentle brush of love.

  That something inside her twisted. Twisted into a greedy, wanting tangle.

  He raised his head and looked at her.

  Standing there. Staring at him. Wanting something.

  “Should I expect my breakfast sometime in this century?” His sarcasm made her move.

  The scrambled eggs were edible and not much else, but the view from the terrace overlooking the village and beach made up for it. If a person hadn’t experienced the hurricane, they’d never believe it had happened. The half-circle of sand glistened in white and gold glory. The ocean waves slid across the land with a gliding touch. The expansive, cloudless blue sky matched the color of the sea, creating a picture perfect Carribean day.

  Risa had followed him and his dog out of the steamy shelter and into the soft breeze of a Caribbean morning. Following, she’d ended up on the rough wall of the terrace next to him, her legs swinging, her mood lifting as she swallowed the last of her breakfast.

  “Done?” He tossed a piece of a cracker, one of the items included in the MRE, at Jiggs.

  Glancing at him, she realized how close they were. She hadn’t intentionally sat near him, except the terrace wall only extended a short distance from a limb of the banyan tree, and somehow, she’d eased closer as they ate.

  Or maybe he had.

  With the breeze, she no longer caught his distinctive scent, and she didn’t want to openly stare at his mouth and hair and eyes. With him this close and with no distractions, he’d notice. So instead, she let herself examine the strength of his thighs, the sculpted perfection of his calves, and the way the leather flip-flops highlighted the arch of his feet.

  Her gaze landed on the scars on his knee, and this near, she saw the enormity of the damage. A dark-ridged line ran down the knee and a criss-cross of scars cut below it as well. Her compassion rose and she chanced a look at his face. “What happened when you hurt your knee? Does it always bother you?”

  He shifted on the wall and his mouth tightened, as if he didn’t like talking about his injury. “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not. You’re limping.” An impulse to reach over and run her hand along the ridged scar ran through her, but by the way he held himself, she didn’t think the gesture would be appreciated. “I’m sorry I stopped in the middle of the storm last night. You really didn’t have to pick me up.”

  His lips curled. To her relief, though, it was with amusement, not anger. “I was supposed to just leave you out on the terrace in the middle of a hurricane?”

  “I would have found my way to the shelter eventually.” Placing the empty MRE bag on the wall, she folded her legs in front of her.

  “Sure you would have.” His voice carried a rough edge to it. “Before or after you got hit on the head by a tree limb?”

  A chuckle escaped her because again, she noted his dig wasn’t meant to be rude and mean. “I wanted to get the shampoo out of my hair, if you have to know. I only stopped for a moment.”

  “A moment in a hurricane can change everything.”

  She glanced at him, curious. “You’ve been in other hurricanes?”

  “Sure, as a SEAL.” Flipping the last of the crackers at his dog, he eyed her. “Several.”

  A person couldn’t say this guy was ever chatty, but she did find it odd he clammed up every time she mentioned anything to do with his service. It annoyed her and intrigued her at the same time. Wouldn’t a man want to boast about being a real-life SEAL? Didn’t men share war stories all the time? “Tell me about one.”

  His eyes narrowed at the clear challenge. “Why?”

  “Because I’m interested in your experiences? Because I want to know more about you?”

  The misty blue in his eyes turned to sleet. “And why would that be? Maybe because I’m the only human around to examine?”

  “Examine?” Her temper bubbled to life. “I’m being friendly, and you’re getting nasty again.”

  “Yeah. That’s me.” H
e swung his legs over the wall to land on the terrace. “Nasty. I almost forgot.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Ignoring her jab, he surveyed the terrace and then, pulled out his fancy pocket watch. “Time for your next job.”

  “I cooked so I could eat.” Risa unfolded her legs from under her to stand beside him. “But I don’t have to do anything else you tell me.”

  A gusty sigh escaped him. If she had to guess, though, it was filled with humor, not exasperation. “All right.”

  “What?” She glanced at him, realizing anew how tall he was, how broad.

  “I’ll help you clean.”

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  A rough bark of laughter erupted from him. Jiggs danced to his side, woofing in obvious excitement that his owner was happy. The dog, the man, the beautiful sunlit day—everything combined inside her with a powerful punch. A punch she’d never experienced before.

  “Come on.” He gave her an amused look and then strode toward the tottering shed. “Let’s get you working for your keep.”

  His words were meant to be tough and mean, she could tell by the way he clipped them. Still, he could no longer conceal the inherent warmth underneath. The mischievous, tender heart of him.

  He liked her.

  A little.

  The realization sank into her, making her glow.

  Chapter 18

  The princesa continued to surprise him.

  Which he didn’t appreciate.

  Riq liked to think he knew people. As a SEAL, a man needed to evaluate a situation in a split second in order to survive. Situations usually involved people. So he’d become good at taking the measure of a person with one swift glance, and his record for making the correct decisions was superior.

  She stood in the middle of his terrace, her hair—damp from sweat—curling around her ears. Using a string she’d found in the shelter, she’d tied back the strands into a lopsided ponytail. Her bare feet hadn’t deterred her from helping him drag the assorted tree limbs and palm leaves into the jungle, nor stopped her from putting her shoulder to the large rock until they’d both pushed it into place by the side of his house.

  “It looks better, doesn’t it?” She flashed him a grin as though she’d just returned from a shopping trip to Dadeland Mall, with a dozen packages filled with female gewgaws.

  Her attitude, her pretty smile, her lack of affectation—made him frown.

  “What?” Her brows arched in surprise. “You don’t think the terrace looks better?”

  An unfamiliar feeling, one he’d left behind when he’d become a Marine, flashed inside.

  Guilt.

  As a teenager, he held that exact emotion in him for most of the time. Guilt at not being smart. Guilt at not being a good son. Guilt at having a temper which exploded more often than not.

  But since becoming a SEAL and serving his country, he’d left this damn emotion behind, far behind. He never let his family irritate him any longer. Nothing they said ruffled his calm. He never cared what the women he’d dated thought of him. Not really, not much. Not enough to stir him to change. And he certainly didn’t spend a second worrying over his investments or his clients. They came and mostly never left because he was superb at what he did. Though if a stake failed, a tip didn’t deliver—

  Never, ever did he feel guilty.

  Right now, however, he did.

  Because he was lying to her about the house and after all the work she’d done so far today, he should be offering her a shower and a good meal instead of acting like a petty fool.

  The thought, the guilt, billowed inside.

  She swept a hand across her sweating brow and tugged on her borrowed shorts, her gaze still on him. The memory of touching her rushed into his conscience: the soft feel of the skin on her belly, the jut of her hip bone, the whisper of her breath on his cheek as he twisted the nylon into a knot.

  His frown turned into a scowl.

  He shouldn’t let her off the hook. He shouldn’t let her sexual appeal sway him. He should continue to deliver the lesson this princesa deserved. No one else in her charmed life was going to—not her dear daddy or her uptight mommy.

  “Jeez,” she scoffed. “Are you never satisfied?”

  No, he never had been. For a few years, he’d been content as a SEAL. He’d loved the adventure, the camaraderie, the challenge. But even as he’d gone on mission after mission, in the depths of him, he’d known this wasn’t enough. This wasn’t going to satisfy a deep yearning he’d had since he’d been a boy.

  For what, he had no idea.

  And still didn’t.

  “Oh, no.” She stiffened and her eyes went wide. “I forgot.”

  “Forgot what?” Trying to suppress the errant thoughts swarming inside his head, he yanked on the last tree limb, pulling it toward the edge of the terrace.

  “My parents. I forgot. I need to call my parents.”

  “I took care of it earlier.” While she discarded their breakfast and cleaned the shelter—at his orders—he’d slunk into the main house and radioed the coast guard. Informing them they were both safe and giving them the Migneaults’ phone number so they’d be contacted, he’d confirmed what he already knew.

  No rescue was coming for them. Not for weeks.

  Sighing at the unwelcome news, he’d let himself enjoy a quick shower and change of clothes. At the time, he hadn’t cared that the princesa wasn’t going to enjoy the same comfort. She didn’t deserve it.

  Now? Now that she’d worked at his side for hours to fix the storm’s damage, he felt…

  Guilty.

  Again.

  “You did?” Her voice rose, filling with curiosity. “When? Where?”

  He threw the log into a sea of vegetation before waving toward his home. “I have a radio inside.”

  Her gaze sharpened. “I thought the place was unstable.”

  “It is.” Coño, he needed to keep his wits about him with this one. She might be spoiled and pampered, but she didn’t lack for brain power. “I had to make sure your parents knew where you were though, didn’t I?”

  Those Marine-blue eyes filled with tears, stunning him.

  “What’s wrong?” His hands fisted at his side, pinching off the impulse to reach out and tug her into his comforting embrace. “What’s your problem? The Coast Guard will let your parents know—”

  “You’re so nice to do that for me. To take the chance of having the house collapse on you while you called.”

  The guilt rose inside.

  Before he could head off anymore gushing, she kept piling on.

  “My parents will be relieved to know I’m okay.” Her dirty hands curled together into a prayer-like gesture as she beamed at him from behind the tears.

  He needed a distraction. Something that would get her to focus on anything other than his supposed good deed. “Let’s go to the village.”

  The tears evaporated and her hands fell to her sides. A pout appeared. “Are we going to have to clean up there, too?”

  There. There was the kind of behavior he’d expected of her. A trickle of relief blended into his guilt. “Do you want cheese with your whine?”

  “Ha ha. That’s so old.” She glanced down at herself. “Well, if I’m going to have to work some more, then I’m going to take a dip in the ocean after.”

  Hell, no, his brain yelled in immediate distress.

  Sì, his body roared its approval.

  “No bathing suit,” he muttered, although the thought of taking a dip and escaping the ninety-degree heat did appeal. If he were alone here, as he’d planned, he’d be in the ocean in a flash. But the last thing he wanted to deal with was a prancing, naked princesa on his beach.

  She gave him a quizzical look. “I can wear my underwear and ask you not to look.”

  “No.” Marching toward the Jeep, he palmed the keys and pocket watch in his gym shorts. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “You don’t strike me as a prude,” she said from right behind him. �
�So what’s going on?”

  What was going on was his libido. Even the thought of her diving into the water with only a pair of silk panties and a bra on excited him to the point he was glad she wasn’t in front of him, taking a look at his shorts.

  “We’ll assess the damage to the village, that’s what’s going on.”

  “I’m hungry. Can we take some of the food from your fridge to the beach?”

  His stomach growled at the thought.

  A feminine giggle laced around him like a curtain of velvety sound. His cock went from semi-hard to a full-on erection, making him horny and sullen at the same time. Throwing the car door open, he kept his back to her. “Get in, Jiggs.”

  His buddy scrambled into the car, and plopped into the car’s seat.

  She rounded the front and opened the passenger door to peer in at him. To his relief, she didn’t glance at his lap. “Can I sit up here with Jiggs?”

  There was another thing that surprised him about her. For all her flounce and flourishes, she was polite. She didn’t assume. She didn’t pretend to know all the answers, either. “Get in.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Nudging the panting dog aside, she eased into the seat with an elegance belied by her stringy hair and dirty T-shirt. “I’m going to wash these clothes, too, while I’m at it.”

  Riq gunned the engine. “You know there’s salt in the water. Your clothes will be as stiff as your hair.”

  “But they’ll be clean.” Her hand cupped his dog’s chin and the traitor acted overjoyed at the attention. A big lap of a tongue slid across her nose and one cheek.

  She laughed.

  The sound went through him this time, instead of curling around—a swift shot of pure adrenaline. The tent in his gym shorts was hard to conceal, though he tried by shifting his weight and placing his hand on the opposite hip.

  She appeared oblivious. Her brows furrowed, and for the first time, he noticed the strands of golden highlights in them. “I suppose you don’t have another set of clothes for each of us hidden away somewhere.”

  “Nope.”

  “And, of course, you shouldn’t take the chance of going into your home again. Not for food or clothes.” She peered out of the window at his tree house with a wistful gaze that twisted the guilt inside him.