The Spaniard's Kiss

by Nina Croft

  He really wished she hadn’t said that. “Pity.”

  Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but at that moment the waiter approached and refilled her glass. She took a sip. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  God, could he put this off? She wanted him. Would it be so wrong to give her what she desired? Tell her later. Much later. But he knew he couldn’t go forward without being honest. “I lied to you.”

  “You did?”

  “I never intended to go through with the baby deal. I just wanted to stop you from rushing into something with someone else. I’ll never have children.”

  “Why?”

  For a second, he seriously considered telling her the truth, but in the end, he couldn’t make himself. The need for silence had been instilled in him at too young an age. One day, he might. But it wouldn’t be tonight.

  “It’s not relevant. But believe me. I will never have children.”

  She searched his face. “So where do we go from here?”

  “Where do you want to go?” He knew where he wanted to go. Straight to bed. But he could see the confusion in her eyes. “I do want you, Bella. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

  “And if we have an affair, how long will it last?”

  “I don’t know. As long as we want it to.” He reached across and took her hand, glanced at it and back to her face. “You’ve taken off your wedding ring.”

  “It was time.”

  He didn’t know how that made him feel. Sad in a way, but happy she was finally moving on. “You know, Gary used to talk about you long before you married—he said all you ever wanted was a husband, a home, a family.”

  “That makes me sound very boring.”

  “Never. But I believe one day you’ll want that again. And maybe some time with me will help you heal. Help us both heal from Gary’s death.” He pushed back his chair. “But I don’t want this to be about Gary. I want it to be about you and me. Right now I’d love to take you to bed and lose myself in you. Show you how good it can be between us. But I’m going to leave you to think about things. Call me when you know what you want.”

  He rose to his feet and was about to turn away when she spoke.

  “Tell me one thing. You want me, really want me?”

  He nodded.

  “Since when? When did you first know?”

  “From the moment I met you.”

  Chapter Ten

  From the moment I met you.

  Bella hugged the pillow to her. Even hours later, the warm, fuzzy feeling was still there. It seemed Rafe had been suffering a case of unrequited…lust all these years. Evidently, he was an extremely good actor.

  Then the warmth faded as she remembered what else he’d told her. He’d lied. He’d never had any intention of letting her have his baby. All the same, he’d gone to an enormous amount of trouble for that lie. Bringing her over here, keeping her company, that whole contract thing. Obviously he’d been trying to protect her in his alpha-man crazy way. And she’d pushed him into it by flirting on the farm when he’d been there. He was trying to save her from herself.

  He wants me.

  And there was that heat again, spreading through her body until she positively glowed.

  Damn, she wanted him, too. So much it scared her.

  During the long, sleepless night, she had reached a decision.

  He claimed he would never have children. Part of her didn’t want to believe him, but mostly she sensed his conviction. But why was he so sure? And could she convince him to change his mind? Because somewhere along the way, she’d gone from wanting a baby to wanting Rafe’s baby.

  She’d tried to convince herself that it was because he was the closest thing to Gary, but she knew that was no longer the case. And Rafe was right. She hadn’t really gotten over Gary’s death.

  Living at the farm, with so many memories and so few distractions, it was unsurprising. Only by putting some distance between her and the place had she really begun the healing process.

  Rafe claimed his relationships lasted three months. Would that be enough? It had to be. She was going to make a leap of faith and just hope it would all work out.

  She finally fell asleep somewhere before dawn and woke not many hours later to a delicious feeling of contentment.

  Rafe wanted her. He’d been fighting it, but now he’d given in. And if she had her way, today he was going to get her.

  First, she had things to do.

  A knock sounded at the door, and she glanced at the clock. Too early for Sally. It was probably one of the hotel staff. Hotel living was not for her. The sooner she got out of this place, the better.

  She dragged herself out of bed, pulled on the robe, and went through into the living area. She opened the door to Rafe.

  “I wanted to check that you were okay.”

  She glanced down at herself. She was a mess. Not okay at all. It was her day off, and she’d planned to spend the afternoon making herself gorgeous and sexy and alluring and then call him. Instead, she was in her pajamas, with bed hair and sleep in her eyes.

  “I thought you were Sally,” she mumbled.

  “Sally?”

  “My PA, remember? Actually your PA, really.” She stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. Then took her first good look at him and realized he didn’t appear much better. Mr. Perfect was rumpled, and she bit back a smile. He wore the suit he’d had on last night. His tie was gone, the shirt open at the neck; his hair was mussed, his eyes slightly bloodshot, and stubble shadowed the hollows of his cheeks.

  “Wow,” she said. “You look a little…”

  He ran a hand over his chin. “Rough?”

  “Just a little.”

  “I called John—lawyer John—last night after I left here. We went for a drink, actually a few drinks, and I ended up sleeping on his couch.” He glanced around. “I don’t suppose there’s coffee?”

  “I’ll order some.” She studied him as she called up room service. She liked him like this. He looked incredibly sexy and bad-boy with the dark shadow and heavy-lidded eyes.

  “Why’s your PA coming here on a Saturday?” Rafe sat on the arm of the sofa.

  “So far I’ve been a huge disappointment for her, poor thing, but yesterday, I actually came up with something for her to do.”

  “And that was?”

  “She’s been apartment hunting for me. She’s come up with a whole list—she’s frighteningly efficient—and we’re going to go through them this morning and maybe visit some possibilities this afternoon. Though she wasn’t very hopeful—apparently I can expect something the size of a small garage for what I’m willing to pay, and I’ll probably have to share that.”

  She’d considered looking for a place outside the city, because London was exorbitantly expensive, but she didn’t want to move too far away from Rafe. The apartment was likely only short-term anyway. She’d been for a first interview and had the possibility of a really good job. But the company was international, and if she was accepted, she had no clue where she’d be based. She couldn’t turn the job down if she was offered the position, but she was trying not to think about what that would mean.

  “Why do you need an apartment? Aren’t you happy here?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s a hotel room. Granted a very nice hotel room, but it’s hardly a home.”

  He still looked confused.

  “Okay. The truth—the place is driving me nuts. It was great for a novelty for a few days, but now I feel like I’m in a goldfish bowl. And I want to make a mess.”

  “And you can’t here?”

  “No, it all gets picked up before I even get started. And if I want a coffee, I have to call down. And…” She plucked at her pajama top, unsure how to explain it to man who hardly stayed in one place long enough to unpack. “I just want some space of my own.”

  He jumped to his feet. For a moment, she thought he was leaving, and she took a step forward, her hand reaching out as though she could s
top him.

  “Come on, get dressed,” he said. “Well?” he asked when she didn’t move.

  She frowned. “Well, what?”

  “You don’t like the hotel, and I’m not happy about you getting some dingy apartment in the wrong part of town. So the solution is—you’d better come home with me.”

  Had she heard that right? “Home? With you?”

  “Don’t worry—it’s a big house. You can have your own room, make as much mess as you like.”

  “I can?”

  She realized she was doing her parrot imitation and clamped her lips together as she tried to get her head around his offer. Did she want to go home with him? She wanted to get out of the hotel. But to live with Rafe? She wasn’t the easiest person to live with—chances were it would cut her three months down dramatically.

  “I thought you never lived with anyone?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t. I should have offered earlier, but I thought you liked it here.”

  “I’m quite messy, and I’m betting your house is as perfect as you are.”

  “Not a problem, I have a”—he hesitated for a moment—“a housekeeper. He can look after you when I’m not there.”

  “I’m not totally useless, Rafe.”

  “He can still look after you—make him feel useful. And he cooks, though you’re quite welcome to cook if you want to.”

  Her insides were tingling, and not just with the idea of getting out of the hotel. To catch a glimpse of the real Rafe, see how he lived. She might discover some interesting insights into what made him tick. See him in his natural environment. Get him into bed. Sounded like a plan. She nodded once, then disappeared into the bedroom.

  …

  Rafe stared at the closed door. What had gotten into him? He’d never taken a woman to his home, let alone invited one to stay. But it seemed like the right thing to do. Before he could change his mind, he picked up the phone and called his driver.

  At least this way he could keep an eye on Bella. Hopefully, more than an eye.

  Telling her the truth had lifted a weight from him. He couldn’t have made love to her with the lies lingering between them. Though he was concerned that she still believed there was a chance he might agree to father her baby, but that could never happen. He’d accepted that fact long ago, but maybe he’d accepted too easily, given up too soon.

  He still held his phone in his hand; now he flicked through the numbers for one he’d never called before. He stared at the name for a minute, then took a deep breath and pressed the call button.

  “Professor Erskine?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you during the weekend. We’ve never spoken, but my name is Rafael Sanchez, I’m—”

  “The man who funds my research,” the professor finished for him. “It’s no bother. Just don’t tell me you’re pulling funds.”

  “Not at all. In fact, I’d like to meet with you and discuss increasing your funding. And a more…personal matter. Perhaps you could come to my office on Monday.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll see you at ten, then.”

  He ended the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. His heart was beating fast, which was stupid. The meeting would probably come to nothing, anyway. But at least he was covering all bases. At least he was trying to give Bella what she needed.

  And if he failed, then maybe he could show her there were better ways to live than in the confines of marriage. He could show her his world, what life could be like unfettered by the chains that tied other people. She could travel with him. And they’d split the rest of the time between London and New York. Visit his grandfather, too. He could stand the place with Bella at his side.

  The water ran in the bathroom while she showered, and he thought about joining her. But she’d said her PA was expected soon, and when he got Bella naked this time, he didn’t want any interruptions.

  The coffee arrived, and he was on his second cup by the time she came out. She’d dressed in her usual jeans, but with a pretty camisole top that showed off her bare shoulders and offered flashes of her flat, tanned stomach. Her hands were shoved in her pockets.

  “So where is this house? Is it far?”

  “Not far. It’s in Belgravia. I’ve called for the car—it will be here in five minutes.”

  “But I have to pack.”

  “No need. You can phone your PA from the car and she can do it and bring your things over.” Suddenly it was important to get her out of there before she decided she preferred a dingy apartment to a room in his house.

  …

  The car pulled up into a large underground parking area, empty but for some sort of low-slung black sports car.

  The driver got out and opened her door. Bella tried to shrug off the feelings of intimidation she always experienced when faced with overt demonstrations of Rafe’s wealth. He lived right in the center of London. This place had to be worth millions. Perhaps she didn’t want to stay here, after all. It was becoming clearer why Rafe’s lawyer friend had worried about her getting her claws into him.

  “What’s the matter?” Rafe asked from beside her.

  What was she supposed to say—that he was too rich? They came from such different worlds. She was way out of her depth, and the thought sent a shiver of unease through her. So she shrugged off his question and scrambled out of the car.

  Rafe led her across the garage to an elevator that took them up a single floor. The doors opened into a large reception area, and a man stood in the center of the huge room as though waiting for them. He appeared to be somewhere in his late fifties, his dark hair turning gray, and he wore a black suit and stood ramrod straight.

  Rafe tilted his head toward him. “This is Charles. He runs the house. If you need anything, just let him know.”

  The man nodded. “Mrs. Sinclair. I’ve prepared the blue room for you as instructed.”

  “You have?” So she wasn’t going to be sharing with Rafe. Which was good. She’d have her own space.

  “I’ll show her around, Charles.”

  Bella glanced back over her shoulder as Rafe ushered her away. “He’s not a housekeeper,” she whispered. “He’s a butler. You have a butler?”

  Rafe winced at the question. “I inherited this place from my grandfather—my maternal grandfather. Charles came with the house. What was I supposed to do—throw him out?”

  She grinned. “You’re embarrassed. Admit it. That’s why you called him a housekeeper. Should I tell him?”

  “God, no. Actually, he’s brilliant and cooks like a dream.”

  The place was all marble floors and antique furniture—it looked more like a show house than a home. Or a show mansion. A number of double doors led off the hallway, but Rafe ignored these and led her instead up a wide stairway. He came to a halt outside a door.

  “This is your room.”

  He pushed open the door for her and stood to the side while she passed him. The room was perfect, beautiful, decorated in creams and blues, a large vase of irises on a small table by the door. Charles had been busy. And it was large—even larger than the hotel room.

  “You can make as much mess as you like,” Rafe said.

  “I’m not sure I’d dare.”

  He ignored her muttered comment. “You have your own bathroom, through there—” Rafe nodded toward a single door in the far wall. “And I’m close by.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes.” He strolled toward a set of doors in the far wall. “This house was built in the days when husbands and wives had separate bedrooms, but in this case they’re connected. Mine is through here.” He threw open the doors to reveal an even bigger room beyond. Unlike the rest of the house, this room screamed modern, which she guessed was more Rafe’s tastes. Decorated in black and white, it was the ultimate in sophistication. An enormous bed stood on a platform in the center. An image flashed in her mind of Rafe sprawled there golden and naked, and her heart rate picked up.
/>   “It suits you,” she said.

  He closed the door, and Bella gazed around her at what she presumed was to be her home for the foreseeable future. “It’s beautiful.”

  He turned to look at her, a small frown on his face. “You don’t sound impressed.”

  “I am. Very. It’s just not very…homey.”

  She kicked off her sandals and dug her bare toes into the soft carpet, then crossed the floor to stare out the window. They were at the front of the crescent-shaped row of houses. A green area of park directly in front of them, and beyond that the city. Miles and miles of buildings, and she had a sudden longing for the wide-open mountains of Spain.

  “Are you all right?”

  Rafe’s softly spoken words interrupted her thoughts. He leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowed, arms folded across his chest.

  “I’m fine. I just…” She gestured to the room around her. “It’s different than I’m used to. I guess I’m feeling a little homesick. I don’t fit in here.” She would never fit in his world. It was like a shower of cold water on her heart.

  “You can fit in anywhere.”

  “You’re sweet.” She lifted one shoulder, trying for a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ll just enjoy the luxury while it lasts.”

  She realized that neither of them had brought up their conversation of last night. Then again, just by bringing her here, he demonstrated that he still wanted her.

  Rafe watched her, a slightly wary expression on his face. She had the urge to smooth the lines between his eyes. She took the few steps to close the distance between them.

  “Thank you for offering to share your home with me.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “I hope it will be.”

  She needed the reassurance of his arms around her. She could do this. Rising on tiptoes, she burrowed her head into the curve of his neck, breathing in the sharp, clean blend of warm man and expensive cologne. Her body recognized the scent of him and reacted to the memory of other times they had been close, growing hot and heavy. Her breasts ached, and a slow pulse started between her thighs.

  She lifted her head and rubbed her lips against the roughness of his cheeks. “Hmm, prickly.”