by Caro LaFever
A roll of his shoulder was his only response, since he’d stuffed his mouth with the paella.
Figuring she should do the same, she spooned up a mix of bright-pink shrimp and golden rice. “Mmm.”
“Told you.” He smirked at her, his misty blue eyes gleaming. “Told you my mimi’s is the best.”
She chewed, letting the rich flavors float above the lingering wine. Swallowing with a groan of delight, she flicked him a smile. “I didn’t think of you as a guy who could cook.”
Another shrug. “I’m a guy living alone. I can’t eat out all the time, and going to my parents’ house for Sunday dinner doesn’t quite fill the belly for the rest of the week.”
Her spoon stilled. “You go to your parents for Sunday dinner?”
“Yeah.” He eyed her, the mist growing wary. “Once in awhile.”
“How often is once in awhile?”
“Ah,” he coughed. “At least once a month. If I didn’t, my yaya would complain. Loudly.”
This man, this guy who had billions, who was a SEAL hero, who’d given her little other than gruff anger and nasty cynicism—this guy went to Sunday dinner.
She laughed.
The picture was amazingly clear. Riq sitting between his beloved mimi and yaya. Listening to their scolding as he stuffed down their homemade food. Taking abuse from his older brothers. She couldn’t have imagined it only days ago, but now? Now, she saw the images as if they were a movie in her head.
“Why are you laughing?” He stopped eating as well, his scowl growing fierce. “What’s so funny?”
Stifling the last of the amusement, she shot him a look. “You’ve talked about your mother and grandmother. Tell me about your dad.”
“Why should I?” His surly was back. He stuffed another spoonful in his mouth.
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” she said.
His jaw tightened, and it had nothing to do with his chewing. She could tell by his attitude, he thought she was lying. Something she rarely did, and wasn’t planning on doing with this man. Not ever.
“I was laughing at myself, if I have to be honest.”
Glancing up, his expression turned puzzled. “What do you mean?”
She took another bite of the delicious food he’d cooked for her, gathering her thoughts. For some reason, she felt as if this moment with him was important.
Why?
Her emotions had run the gamut these last two days. A feeling of close connection with him when they were at the lagoon. A fury so big and wide she’d barely contained it when she realized his lie about the tree house. A growing respect for him as they discussed her company this afternoon. And now, something she’d rejected after they’d had sex, came blooming to life anew.
More than affection, though she felt that, too. More than lust.
However, the way he lounged on the cushions—his black curls waving in the soft Caribbean breeze, the shadow of his tattooed shoulders veiled by the cotton shirt he wore, the way his whiskered jaw cut such a fine line of pure male—made her hot, very hot with lust. And he had been adorable a few times as well, gaining her affection.
Yet, she knew. The emotion she felt for Riq were much, much more.
Love.
It trembled to life, destroyed by this man and brought to life by him again.
His fierce expression returned at her continued silence. “You were laughing at me and I want to know why.”
He was such a confusing combination of pride and confidence, mixed with this sudden flash of anger and self-doubt. Her heart warmed to him.
“No, I wasn’t.” Dropping the half-eaten bowl on the table, she crossed her legs in front of her, her hands drifting to her sides. “I misjudged you so badly, I had to laugh at how stupid I’ve been.”
“Misjudged.” His frown didn’t fall. “In what way?”
“I saw you as this big, bad man who was being mean to my daddy and stealing kisses with me just to make a point.”
As her words fell between them, he stilled.
“Except you’re not that,” she kept going. “Or not only that.”
“Maybe I am.” With a nonchalance which didn’t fool her, he slid his bowl on the table and eased back. “Maybe I’m as mean as they come, and I steal kisses from pretty princesas because that’s all I want.”
Riq might be older than her, he might be richer and more powerful, but Risa understood something with an age-old womanly instinct.
He needed her.
Her vitality and eagerness. Her basic love of the world and what it had to offer. Her young, fresh vision of what she could become and what he could become, too. Something lurking beneath his façade told her—at the center of him, he wasn’t happy or fulfilled.
She could change that.
“What are you thinking?” His gaze narrowed as though she’d turned into a torturous temptation he wasn’t sure he wanted to handle.
This needed to be said up close and personal. Getting to her hands and knees, she crawled toward him.
His expression froze as well as his body. Something wild and wondering flickered in his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Tell me something.” She came right into his space, leaning in to catch his scent.
“What?” A glower of male fright came her way.
He smelled different than before. Different than salty or sweaty, sexy or seductive. More than just clean, too.
She sniffed.
“What?” he snarled.
Rearing back, she stared at him with astonishment.“You’re wearing Grand-père’s favorite cologne for men.”
“So?” He leaned away, his customary attitude of surliness returning.
“It’s really good on you.” Not willing to let him get away, she pursued him, moving closer. “Let me smell.”
A huff of male exasperation didn’t deter her. Quite the opposite. Amusement pushed her into pressing her nose right into his neck. An explosion of tangy citrus flooded her nostrils, followed by the strong, woodsy tones her grandfather had chosen with care as the quintessential masculine smell.
Earthy, dark, daring. Exactly right for this man.
The man she wanted as her own.
Lifting her head, she gazed at him. He returned the look with a watchful stare.
“We are not going to get rid of all the Migneault scents,” she announced, confidence running through her.
“We?” His thick, dark brows arched.
She decided not to tackle that particular subject right now. Sitting back on her heels, she tapped her hands on her knees in excitement. “We can blend the old with the new, natural with nostalgia.”
A tiny glitter flitted in the blue of his eyes, cutting through the mist. But he still wouldn’t budge. “We?”
“In fact, that can be our new branding.” She wouldn’t let his fake nastiness dissuade her. “Natural with nostalgia.”
“You do have a way with words.” HIs tone turned wry with a touch of respect.
Which gave her hope. About a lot of things. Taking a chance, she came back into his sphere. “I have a way with other stuff as well.”
“Do you?” His voice didn’t change, but she sensed the heat of his body rising.
“Yes, I do.” With a quick move, designed to take him by surprise, she scrambled onto him, swinging one leg over his hip to sit on top of him. Smug satisfaction filled her when she landed on his hard, hot erection. “Well, well, well.”
He grunted before laying down on the cushions, his hands tucked behind his neck. “What do you think you’re doing?”
A light feeling of happiness glided through her like a stroke of magic. He was an impossible man, had been this way since the moment she’d met him. Yet she knew, right now, he was hers.
His impossible pride.
His impossible attitude.
His impossible way of challenging her at every turn.
She wished, with all her heart, he wasn’t rich. That surprised her, but it was a truthful sentiment. Because h
er gut told her his money would stand in the way of making him believe in them. No matter what she did, she wouldn’t take his money for her company. There had to be another way to raise the funds to make her dreams come true and she’d find them.
And keep him for her own.
“Huh?” His hips surged under hers, pulling her back to him and the beach and the lust swimming between them. “What are you doing, sunshine?”
Leaning down, she splayed herself across his hard chest. Her breasts pressed against him and she could tell it affected him by the sultry slant of his lips. “Bringing you happiness.”
She took his mouth. Took his lips and tenderly licked them with her burgeoning love. Slid her tongue along the crease until he opened for her. He lay lax beneath her, letting her take the lead.
His trust filled her, like a new perfume coming into its own.
“Tell me,” she whispered.
He gave her a hum of male acceptance that made her heart sing.
“Tell me what your dreams are.”
The body under hers went taut. Tight with rejection, and an echo of rage she couldn’t grab onto and define.
“Get off.” His words were as chilly as an icy gale.
Whipping her head up, she stared at his sullen face. “What happened?”
“Get off.”
Risa’s gaze narrowed. “Not until you tell me what just happened.”
A snort escaped him. “You realize I’m bigger than you, and I can make you get off.”
“But you aren’t going to, are you?” Nestling her hips across his, she grinned when he jerked in response. “Tell me, Riq—”
“I’m not telling you anything.” His expression turned stubborn. “Get off.”
“Tell me why the mention of the word dreams sends you into a tailspin.”
“I’m not in a tailspin.” His rose lips tightened. “Not at all.”
It amazed her how quickly she’d come to know this man. How she could so easily read what was lurking in the mist of his eyes, and tell by the way he held his head how upset he was.
He was growing increasingly upset.
With a sigh, she let the subject go to pounce on another. There was no reason to ruin this night, and what she wanted to do with this gorgeous male body. Time enough to dig into the man and find out his secret dreams—or lack of them.
Or lack of them.
A frown crossed her face.
“Either get off or do something,” he muttered.
She focused back on him, switching to another subject. “Tell me why you bought this island.”
Relief flashed across his face, telling her she’d done the right thing to let him go for now. “I don’t know. It was here and I liked it.”
“Come on.” Folding her hands on his broad chest, she placed her chin on them and stared. “There’s more to it than that.”
Wariness filled his eyes, but then something must have clicked in his brain, telling him he was safe to confess this one item about himself to her. His clenched jaw softened. “I like to fish.”
“Do you?” Another nugget of useful information. “My daddy does, too.”
“Yeah, I know.” He grimaced. “He’s asked me more than once to join him on his boat.”
“An invitation you haven’t accepted.” There’d have been no way she wouldn’t have noticed this male climbing aboard her father’s prized Sea-esta.
“No, I haven’t. I didn’t want to build up his hopes.”
“That you’d invest.”
Her simple acceptance of the situation appeared to shock him. “Risa, you have to know—”
“I do know.” She kept her gaze on his. “You don’t want to invest in Migneault Perfumery, and I’m okay with that.”
“You’re sure?” Oddly, his expression communicated he wasn’t sure.
But it didn’t matter, she had enough surety for both of them.
“Yes, I am.” Wiggling her hips on his, she gave him a grave stare. “This has nothing to do with that.”
“No?” The look of a leery rich man, who wasn’t sure he could trust, crossed his expression.
“No.” Lifting her head, she grasped his taut shoulders with firm hands. “In fact, even if you offered me money to save my company, I wouldn’t take it.”
“Oh.” A startled pause followed his short gusty word.
“So tell me.”
“Hmm?” The mist of his eyes fogged with whatever he was thinking.
“About this island.”
Another wave of relief filtered across his countenance. “I like to fish, and I like privacy.”
“You’re a loner at heart.”
The confidence in her words seemed to shock him again. “How do you know?”
She knew. She knew him like she knew her way around an unfamiliar store, or a party filled with guests she’d never met. There’d never been a moment in her life where the unfamiliar fazed her, not even this island, this man, or the hurricane. Sure, she felt anxious regarding the new sometimes, as everyone else did, but she was certain about her innate ability to make the new familiar. She also knew now why she and this guy fit. At least, one of the reasons. Because she wasn’t a loner, and opposites were compatible when things were understood.
“I know.” Shrugging, she slid her head into the crease of his neck and shoulder. “And it’s fine with me.”
Silence was her answer.
Risa, in her growing wisdom, let him be.
They lay together, the breeze bringing with it the taste of night, the quiet of dusk. A bird called its music into the soft air, and the rustle of the palm trees mingled in the sound, ushering in a peace to their place.
“Jiggs is probably getting worried,” he murmured into her hair. “We should get back to the house.”
“We should have brought him with us.”
“He would have wolfed down the paella before we got a bite.” His voice went from cautious to amused. “My boy doesn’t have a keen sense of what’s good for him.”
“I don’t know. He knows you’re good for him.”
Her words silenced him again.
“Have you had a lot of guests here at the island?” She ran her palm along the roll of his bicep. “Invited, that is.”
He huffed a short laugh. “No.”
“Your family?”
“No.” He paused. “They don’t even know about this place.”
“What?” Jerking up, she stared at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
A truculent look, so boyish and sweet it made her want to cry, filled his expression. “They don’t know I own an island.”
“Why not?”
His lips firmed, and the lushness of his black eyelashes hid him from her.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “Tell me.”
“Time to return to the house.” Using his strength this time, he eased her off of him and stood. He busied himself, gathering the bowls and silverware.
“You know me, Riq.”
He ignored her.
“You know me well enough to know I’m not going to stop asking.” Rolling over to lay on her back, she stared at the stars. “You’re eventually going to tell me.”
A rough sigh came from him. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No?” She kept her gaze on the night sky, giving him space. “If I had an island like this, I’d be sharing it with my parents and grandma.”
“It’s not about sharing.” His tone hardened. “It’s about not caring.”
“You don’t care about your family?” With a wrench, she sat up. “I don’t believe you.”
“You know me so well, huh?” Turning, he braced his hands on his hips, again reminding her of some long-ago Spanish ancestor. An incensed man intent on finding his own paradise alone. “You know my family too, I take it.”
She didn’t back down. It wasn’t in her nature, she’d come to realize during these last few days. “I know there’s another reason you haven’t told your family about this island…”
“They don’t know anything, do they?” Her mouth gaped open. “They don’t even know you’re rich.”
Chapter 30
He should have known.
Riq should have known not to let this smart princesa close. Close to his island and his home and himself. He should have realized she’d poke and question until he was forced to confront what he didn’t want to confront.
“They don’t, do they?” Her pretty face scrunched into a disbelieving stare.
When he’d planned this beach dinner, his mind had been on seduction. The cushions, soft and sumptuous, the candles, warm and beguiling, the food, spicy and enticing—all of it was intended to set a mood. But her questions had started, her keen gaze and bright brain not satisfied with accepting only his surface.
His muscled body, his obvious interest.
She wanted more.
“I’m taking this first load up.” Glancing at the sky filled with sparkling stars, he grimaced in pretend concern. “There’s likely to be a storm overnight.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “There’s not going to be a storm. I’m from this area, remember?”
Sì, he remembered. He remembered her wistfulness about eating on the beach, and the way she jumped into the ocean without a care. He remembered her delight in the lagoon, and her acceptance of the heat and humidity without complaint. She was as much a part of this place as he was. As attuned to the land, aware of its wonders, alive in its pleasures.
With a start, he also understood, in the deep center of himself, how much she’d grown into a person he respected and cherished.
Cherished. Cristo.
And loved, his heart told him.
Loved. Jesús.
“I’m going up,” he announced, not wanting to linger where his thoughts had led him.
Surprisingly, she didn’t say anything else. She also didn’t follow him up the stairs to the terrace. Instead, she merely sat on the soft cushions he’d provided, thinking he’d get lucky. Except getting lucky with a princesa always had unintended consequences.
Things like knowing he didn’t want only her body.
Things like looking at parts of himself he was ashamed of and didn’t want to talk about.