Never Say No to a Caffarelli

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Rafe stretched his mouth into a tight smile. ‘I’m sure she will.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘PARIS...’ CHLOE GAVE a wistful sigh. ‘You do realise you’re living every girl’s dream? Being taken to the city of love with a handsome billionaire to be wined and dined and passionately wooed.’

  Poppy chewed her lip as she put some pieces of sultana-and-cherry slice on a flowered plate ready for the display cabinet. ‘It’s mostly a business trip for Rafe. I’m just tagging along as entertainment.’

  ‘I don’t believe that,’ Chloe said. ‘He’s falling for you, big time. Next thing you know, he’ll be down on bended knee. You see if I’m not right. And what better place to propose to you than Paris?’

  ‘He’s not going to propose to me,’ Poppy said with a heavy heart. ‘He’s going to send me on my way once this week in Paris is over with a bit of jewellery as a consolation prize. I bet he won’t even choose it himself. He’ll get one of his secretaries to do it.’

  Chloe sucked in one side of her cheek as she studied Poppy’s downcast features. ‘You really are in love with him, aren’t you?’

  Poppy let out a serrated sigh. ‘When he came into the shop that first day I thought he was the biggest jerk I’d ever met. It just goes to show you can’t trust first impressions. Underneath that cold, hard business front he puts up, I suspect he’s a really caring person.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  Poppy’s shoulders dropped. ‘He doesn’t care about me...or at least, not the way I want him to care.’

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ Chloe said. ‘You’ve only known him, what, a week or two? Give him time.’

  ‘But what if it’s not me he’s really after?’ Poppy finally voiced the fear that had been lurking in her mind ever since Rafe had made love to her. ‘What if he’s only involved with me to charm me into selling him the dower house?’

  Chloe’s forehead wrinkled. ‘Do you really think he’d do something as low as that?’

  ‘I don’t know... Look at what Oliver did. I didn’t see that coming. Maybe I just attract the type of guys who think they can pull the wool over my eyes.’

  ‘You are a bit of a babe in the woods,’ Chloe said, but not unkindly. ‘Be careful, hon. Just take it one day at a time. Enjoy what’s on offer while it’s on offer. That’s all you can do.’

  * * *

  ‘Do you fly everywhere in a private jet?’ Poppy asked Rafe the following Monday as they were about to leave London.

  ‘I hate waiting around gate lounges,’ he said. ‘It’s such a waste of time.’

  She rolled her eyes at him. ‘I hope you realise that, now the dogs have been placed in those plush boarding kennels you organised for them, they’ll never be happy staying anywhere else. They’ll probably turn their little noses up at their stainless steel dishes when they get back. I’ll have to get them gold or silver ones, or maybe diamond-encrusted ones.’

  He gave her a bone-melting smile. ‘I don’t see why they can’t have a good time as well as us.’

  Poppy had no doubt she was going to have a good time while she was away—a very good time. The last few nights with him had left her body tingling with delight. This morning he had joined her in the shower, leaving her quivering with ecstasy. Just looking at him now made her insides slip like a drawer pulled out too quickly. His dark eyes contained a sensual promise that made her toes curl up and her heart race.

  There was one attendant on the flight who served them champagne and canapés and then pulled and locked the sliding door across the cabin to give them privacy.

  Poppy took a sip of her champagne. ‘Do your brothers have private jets too or do you share this one?’

  ‘We each have our own. My grandfather has two.’

  She studied him for a moment. ‘Do you ever think of how different your life would be if you’d been born into another family? One without loads and loads of money to burn?’

  A frown settled between his brows. ‘I don’t burn money for the sake of it, Poppy.’

  She toyed with the stem of her glass. ‘Maybe not, but I bet you’ve never had to worry about where your next meal is coming from.’

  ‘I know that anyone looking from the outside would think people with enormous wealth have it easy, but having money brings its own issues,’ he said. ‘The one you mentioned the first day we met, for instance.’

  Poppy screwed up her face as she tried to remember. ‘What did I say?’

  ‘You said I probably lie awake at night wondering if people liked me for me or just for my money.’

  She pulled at her lower lip with her teeth. ‘I probably shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t even know you then. I was just making horrible assumptions about you.’

  He stroked a finger down the back of her hand resting on the armrest between them. ‘I made a few about you that weren’t all that accurate too.’

  Poppy met his gaze. ‘I want you to know I like you for you, not for your money. We could’ve come to Paris by car or even by train or bus and I wouldn’t have minded one little bit.’

  His smile was lopsided as he brushed the curve of her cheek with an idle fingertip. ‘You’re very sweet, Poppy Silverton.’

  ‘I expect what you really mean is I’m terribly naïve.’

  His smile was exchanged for a frown. ‘Why would you think that?’

  Poppy gave him a direct look. ‘How do I know this trip to Paris isn’t part of your plan to get me to relinquish the dower house?’

  His frown deepened. ‘Is that what you really think?’

  ‘You can’t deny you still want it.’

  ‘Of course I still want it,’ he said. ‘But that’s got nothing to do with our affair.’

  Poppy wanted to believe him. She ached to believe him. But how could she be sure what his motives were? He had been upfront about his intentions over the dower house from the very first day. He wasn’t one to be dissuaded from a goal.

  He played to win, not to lose.

  A compromise would be anathema to someone as task-oriented as him. He would see that as failure, as a weakness.

  ‘I’m not going to sell it to you, Rafe. I don’t care how many private jets you take me on, or how much champagne you give me to drink. I’m not selling my house to you, or to anyone.’

  He unclipped his belt and stood up, raking a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration and impatience. ‘Do you really think I would stoop that low?’ he asked. ‘What sort of man do you think I am?’

  ‘A very determined one.’ She eyeballed him. ‘Stealthy, single-minded and steely, or so the press would have us believe.’

  He gave a cynical bark of laughter. ‘And you take that as gospel, do you?’

  ‘I want to believe your motives are honourable,’ Poppy said. ‘But how can I be sure you want me for me?’

  He came over to her and lifted her chin so her gaze meshed with his. ‘I’m not going to deny I want the dower house. I can’t go ahead with my development plans for the manor without it. But this thing between us is entirely separate.’

  Was it? Was it really?

  He unclipped her belt and drew her to her feet. ‘I want you, ma chérie. I’ve wanted you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you.’

  But for how long? The words were a mocking taunt inside her head. His track record of quickly turned-over relationships didn’t bode well for her hopes of marriage and babies and a happy-ever-after. It was the hopeless romantic in her that hoped she would be the one to change him.

  How many women just like her had been burnt by the same deluded dream?

  Poppy pushed her doubts aside and gave him a little teasing smile as she started working on the knot of his tie. ‘So...just how private is this jet of yours?’

  His eyes glittered a
s he tugged her against him. ‘Very,’ he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

  * * *

  Rafe’s apartment was more like a villa than an apartment. It was a six bedroom luxuriously appointed property not far from the Ritz Hotel overlooking Jardin des Tuileries. It was definitely the top end of town. For Poppy, who had only ever travelled on a shoe-string budget, it was certainly an eye opener. She tried not to act too star struck or over-awed but it was impossible not to feel a little envious of the wealth Rafe had at his fingertips.

  Rafe had organised dinner at Moulin Rouge in Montmartre and Poppy sat transfixed as the can can show Paris was famous for played out so vibrantly and colourfully before her. After the show he took her to another venue where there was live music and dancing.

  ‘But I’m rubbish at dancing,’ Poppy protested when he took her by the hand to lead her to the dance floor.

  ‘Just follow my lead,’ he said, drawing her close against him.

  It was hard at first not to think everyone was looking at her tripping over her own feet, but after a while she started to relax as Rafe led her in a slow waltz to the tune of a romantic ballad.

  ‘See?’ he said against her hair. ‘You’re a natural.’

  ‘You’re a very good teacher,’ Poppy said, looking up at him.

  His pitch-black eyes glinted. ‘You’re a very fast learner, ma petite.’

  She moved against him and shivered in delight when she felt his arousal. ‘I guess I should make the most of my limited time under your tutelage,’ she said flippantly.

  His lips pressed together and his eyes lost their light spark. ‘We should get going,’ he said, dropping his arms from around her. ‘It’s getting late and I have an early meeting in the morning.’

  Poppy mentally kicked herself for spoiling a perfectly good evening. What was the point of reminding him their relationship was temporary? She trudged after him with her spirits sagging like sodden sheets on a clothes line. Why couldn’t she just be satisfied with what she had rather than what she didn’t have? Most girls would give anything to have a week or two with someone like Rafe. She had seen the envious looks from other women all evening. Rafe’s good looks and aura of power and authority were incredibly head-turning. What right did she have to insist on more from him when they had only known each other such a short time?

  The problem was she knew he was ‘the one’. She had known that the first time he had kissed her. His love-making had only reinforced her conviction. She couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. She didn’t want to be with anyone else.

  Once they were out on the street, Poppy touched him on the forearm. ‘Rafe, I’m sorry. I’m being a cow. It must be the jet lag.’

  His fingers enveloped her hand and gave it a tiny squeeze. ‘I understand you want to feel more secure, mon coeur. Let’s just take it a day at a time, hmm? I have a lot on my mind right now with my work.’

  ‘I’m sorry...I didn’t realise,’ she said. ‘Is your meeting tomorrow worrying you?’

  He tucked her arm through his as they walked back to the car. ‘There are always worries when you are responsible for people’s jobs and careers. Tomorrow’s meeting is with one of my accountants based here. For a while now I’ve had some concerns that he’s been fudging the books now and again. I’ve had an independent audit done. The results will be put on the table tomorrow. It’s not looking good.’

  ‘Oh no, that’s awful,’ Poppy said.

  ‘Yes.’ He gave her a brief glance before turning his gaze ahead, resigned. ‘I’m not looking forward to it. He’s got a wife and young family. He’s worked for me since he graduated from university. It’s hard not to feel betrayed.’

  ‘There’s no worse feeling, is there?’ Poppy said. ‘That someone you trusted has exploited you.’

  He stopped walking and turned to look at her. ‘Is that what happened with your boyfriend?’

  Poppy grimaced. ‘I hate even thinking of him as my boyfriend now. Thank God I didn’t sleep with him. I’d have been feeling even more foolish now if I had.’

  He tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear, a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘I was talking to Howard Compton about you the other day.’

  Poppy lifted her brows. ‘I didn’t know you two were friends.’

  He gave her a sheepish smile. ‘I drop in every day or so for a wee dram, as he calls it. I can’t stand whisky but I haven’t got the heart to tell him. I enjoy his company. He’s a nice old chap. Nothing like my grandfather, which is probably why I like him so much.’

  ‘What did you say to him about me?’

  ‘I told him I had drawn up a business plan for you, the one I showed you the other night.’

  Poppy bit her lip. She hadn’t actually got around to looking at it too closely and she was pretty sure Rafe knew it.

  ‘You have to learn to say no, ma petite,’ he said. ‘You’ll go under if you don’t learn to stand up for yourself. People will respect you for it.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  He looped an arm around her shoulders and, drawing her towards him, kissed the top of her head. ‘Good girl.’

  * * *

  Back at his apartment, Rafe came out of the bathroom and found Poppy busily taking pictures of the art deco furnishings with her mobile phone. ‘If you like them so much I’ll buy you some,’ he said.

  She swung around guiltily, blushing like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. ‘It’s a lovely apartment. You have wonderful taste.’

  Rafe came over, took the phone out of her hand and tossed it on the bed. ‘I want your hands free for the next little while.’

  ‘Oh really?’ She gave him a sparkling smile. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  He unclipped her hair and watched as it tumbled around her shoulders. The honeysuckle fragrance of it wafted towards him. He threaded his fingers through its thick, silky tresses, loving the feel of it against his fingers. He brought his mouth to hers, tasting her sweetness, losing himself in the lush softness of her lips and the shy response of her tongue as he summoned it into play with his.

  Her body moved against him in that delightfully instinctive feminine way, fitting against the hard planes of his frame as if she had been tailor-made for him. He put a hand at the base of her spine and pushed her against his erection. His need for her was a throbbing pulse that drove every other thought out of his head. The desire to ravish her was almost overwhelming, but the gentleman in him would not rush her or push her beyond her comfort zone.

  She gave a little whimper as he skated a hand over the globe of her breast. He loved the shape of her, the way her breast fit so neatly into his hand, how soft her skin was, how sensitive to his touch.

  ‘You’re wearing too many clothes,’ he murmured against her mouth.

  ‘So are you.’ She tugged his shirt out of his trousers and moved her soft little palm over his chest.

  A surge of lust almost knocked him off his feet. He found the zip at the back of her dress and lowered it. Her dress slipped to the floor and she stepped out of the circle of fabric, still with her mouth clamped on his and her slim arms looped around his neck.

  Rafe smoothed his hands over her back, deftly unhooking her bra in the process. He slipped off her lacy knickers, running his hands over her neat bottom, teasing her with a feather-light touch on her feminine folds. He felt for her slickness, his insides coiling with desire when he found her ready for him.

  She undid his belt and unzipped him with ruthless purpose. He sucked in a breath when she finally uncovered him. Her touch was mind-blowing. The blood roared through his veins, his desire at fever pitch. When she started caressing him in bolder and bolder strokes he thought he was going to disgrace himself.

  He pulled her hand away and took a steadying breath. ‘Not so fast, ma belle.’

  ‘I want y
ou.’ Her toffee-brown eyes held his in a sultry little lock that made his heart race. She walked into him until he had nowhere to go but lie on the bed, taking her down with him.

  Her body was draped temptingly over him as she took both of his hands and put them above his head. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m tying you up.’

  Rafe laughed as she wrapped his tie around his wrists and anchored it to the bedpost. Did she really think that flimsy piece of silk was going to restrain him? He’d let her play her little game, but he would be free before she could say ‘cupcake’. He was the one in control here, not her. But it would be fun to let her think she was on top, so to speak.

  She slithered back down his body, her thighs trapping his between hers, the look in her eyes making his blood heat to boiling. She picked up the fullness of her hair and flung it over her shoulder so she could get down to business.

  Rafe’s insides quivered as she put her lips around him. No condom. He tested the hold on the tie but it was surprisingly—terrifyingly—firm.

  Her first tongue stroke was long, hot, wet and nearly sent him over the edge.

  He struggled against the bonds. ‘What the hell?’

  She looked up from beneath her lashes from where she was poised over his painfully thick erection. ‘That’s what you get for insisting on a designer brand. You should have settled for a cheap chain-store one.’

  Rafe sucked in another breath as she teased him some more with her tongue. He tried to count backwards; he thought of all the distracting things he could, like the mounds of paperwork that needed to be dealt with, but none of it worked. She began to draw on him as if she was going to turn him inside out with the hot, wet suction of her mouth. He felt himself lift off and soar. He lost all sense of himself as he pumped himself into a mindless oblivion that surpassed anything he had felt before.

  She gave him a naughty smile as she untied his wrists. ‘So, Mr Must Have Control At All Times. How did that feel?’