by Sarah Morgan
There was self-mockery in her tone, which he didn’t understand. So she’d been found out? What was the problem? Weary of the act and wishing she’d just admit guilt so that they could get down to the important things in life, Rafael gritted his teeth.
‘Who were you hoping to talk to?’
‘Just about anyone, really.’ She slid her feet into her shoes. ‘My father. The dealer who sold us the coffee. But everyone has conveniently vanished. I suppose you could say that the rats are leaving the sinking ship.’ She stared into the jungle and he thought he caught the sparkle of tears in her eyes. But then she turned to look at him and her smile was bright. ‘My fault for being so trusting.’
She just wouldn’t let it drop.
He stared at her with exasperation, wondering whether she really thought he believed any of her elaborate excuses. Not for one moment did he think she’d even tried to phone anyone. Why would she, when she was already in possession of all the answers? ‘They could just be out.’
She nodded, apparently not picking up on the irony in his voice. ‘I expect that’s it.’ Her eyes were tired and her tone formal, designed to keep him at a distance. For some reason that he couldn’t identify, that distance annoyed him.
Suddenly he didn’t care whether she was innocent or guilty. He just wanted her in his bed. As far as he was concerned, the rest of it was irrelevant.
So she was greedy and self-seeking—what woman wasn’t?
‘Shall we just change the subject?’ he suggested helpfully, giving her permission to drop the act. He felt nothing but relief when she nodded.
‘Yes. We’re not going to discuss this again.’ Her voice was firm and her chin was held at an angle that he was beginning to recognise signalled determination. ‘The problem is no longer yours. I think that’s one fact that we have managed to confirm.’
Finally, they were getting somewhere. ‘Forget your business,’ he purred, deciding that some reinforcement wouldn’t go amiss. ‘Move on in life. Do something else.’
‘Oh, no—I couldn’t possibly do that. It wouldn’t be right. There are too many people depending on me and if I just give up, they’re affected too.’ She tilted her head to one side and shook it slightly, allowing her hair to fall in a damp mass over her shoulder. Then she twisted it into a thick rope, squeezing out the water with her hands. ‘So I’m not going to give up. I’m going to find out who is guilty and try and recover the money. After that I’m going to apply for another loan, pay back Carlos and Filomena and carry on with my business.’
Frustrated that she was still trying to shift the blame onto someone else and totally bored by all talk of cafés and coffee when what he really wanted to do was drag her against him and taste her mouth again, Rafael decided that there was only one way to move the conversation forward to his satisfaction. ‘I’ll extend the loan,’ he said smoothly. ‘That way you can carry on playing cafés as long as you like.’
She paused but then shook her head. ‘No, but thank you. It’s a very generous offer.’
Not generous, Rafael thought, gritting his teeth. Selfish. He wanted her mind off her wretched business and onto something more worthy. Him. His eyes lingered on her mouth and he struggled to concentrate. ‘It’s my money. Giving it away is my choice.’
‘And refusing is mine.’ Her voice was soft. ‘I don’t want your money. In the circumstances it wouldn’t feel right.’
As far as he was concerned there was only one thing that would feel right at that particular moment and it involved both of them naked on silk sheets. The reason for her presence here, the fraud, the deception, all of it had ceased to matter to him.
‘In that case, let’s agree to just drop the whole subject,’ he agreed, glancing upwards with a frown. ‘It will be dark in about ten minutes. We need to get back. You’ll need time to change for dinner.’
‘Oh, no—’ With a cry of anxiety she bent down and picked up the dress that she’d laid on the rock. ‘It’s muddy. I must have splashed it when I was swimming.’
Rafael stared at her with a distinct lack of comprehension.
‘And?’
‘And it’s all I have to wear!’ She gave the dress a little shake and sighed. ‘My combat trousers are wet and muddy, this is wet and muddy—’
‘So it’s naked, then,’ Rafael suggested in a slow drawl, watching as the colour bloomed in her cheeks. ‘I’ll have to wear my suit …’
Struggling against the temptation to point out that clothes were largely irrelevant because he didn’t intend her to stay dressed for long, Rafael took her arm and urged her down the path. ‘Maria will find you a dress. Now move, or you might find that you’re someone else’s dinner.’
Grace sat on the edge of her bed, trying to stop worrying long enough to dress for dinner.
Had she been wrong to turn down his offer of financial help?
It was all very well having high standards, but what if no one else would loan her the money she needed? Those standards of hers would cost people their jobs.
Trying to rouse herself from her state of anxiety, Grace stared at the dress that Maria had delivered moments earlier.
It shimmered and shone, changing colour with the light, one moment pale turquoise and the next silver. It was, quite simply, the most exotic, beautiful dress she’d ever seen.
Not even wanting to think about the person it had originally belonged to, she slid it over her head, grimacing slightly as it clung to her hips.
Whoever had chosen this dress had been skinnier than she was, she thought ruefully, sliding the fabric over her hips and wondering whether it was actually going to be too tight. Assuring herself that it was a style that was supposed to cling, she turned sideways to look at herself in the mirror.
It was a dress designed to turn an ordinary woman into a film star, a dress designed for sin and seduction, and just wearing it put a smile on her lips.
Just for tonight she’d forget, she told herself, slipping her feet into her high-heel shoes and picking up her bag.
This one night in the jungle she was going to be the sort of woman who wore this sort of dress. She was going to forget about all her problems because despite empty assurances from Rafael Cordeiro she knew that there was no way she could solve them tonight. Tomorrow, along with reality, would come soon enough.
Tomorrow she’d be back in London. She’d track down the people who were so carefully avoiding her and she’d find out exactly what had gone wrong with her business. And her life.
Which meant that she had one more night in paradise.
CHAPTER SIX
RAFAEL WAS ALREADY seated at the table when she arrived on the terrace. He had a drink in his hand and his blue shirt was open at the neck and revealed just enough bronzed male flesh to draw her eyes for longer than she would have liked. Even dressed casually he looked cool, sophisticated and way out of her league.
She scanned his handsome features and her heart bumped crazily against her chest. What was it about him that had such a powerful impact on her?
She didn’t know and she didn’t understand it. But she knew that whatever had scarred him in the past, however bad his experiences had been, she didn’t want him to think her guilty of fraud.
She hadn’t intended to bring the subject up again but how could she not? No matter how hard she tried to push the whole thing away until tomorrow, the guilt kept intruding. ‘You must think I’m awful,’ she said impulsively as she slid into her chair, ‘taking money from those people. I know that I’m sort of guilty because it’s my company but I want you to know that I didn’t know anything about it. I need you to believe that.’
He was still, his eyes on her face. He reminded her of a jungle animal, watching. Waiting for exactly the right moment to pounce. ‘I believe you.’ His low, smooth male voice flowed over her tattered nerves like healing honey.
‘You do?’ It wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting and she couldn’t hide her surprise or relief. ‘You really mean that? I still don’
t know exactly who is responsible but I’ll find out and change things. And I’ll keep a firmer control on the figures. I should have noticed, I know, but—’ She badly wanted to tell him the truth but she didn’t want to sound as though she was making excuses.
‘But when you’re involved in the day-to-day running of the business, it’s very easy to lose grip on the numbers.’ He finished her sentence, his dark eyes velvety warm and surprisingly sympathetic.
‘Yes.’ That wasn’t exactly what had happened, but it was close enough. And he seemed to understand. Which was a massive relief to her because for one horrible moment in the fazenda she’d thought that she was never going to be able to convince him that she hadn’t deliberately taken money from anyone.
She still didn’t know what it was that had made him so cynical and sceptical about people’s motives but she was thoroughly relieved that at least he seemed to have absolved her of blame.
He’d obviously had time to think about everything she’d told him.
He was watching her now with a lazy, slumberous gaze and she felt herself relax.
‘I should have been more careful,’ she admitted, ‘but I’m relieved you no longer think I was guilty of fraud.’
‘I think we should now put the entire episode behind us.’ His voice was molten sexuality, the gentle curve of his perfectly shaped mouth drawing her gaze. And it was impossible to look at his lips and not remember the kiss. The hot, fevered burn of his mouth on hers, the erotic stroke of his tongue and the firm, deliberate touch of his hands on her body.
As her body flared to life, she blinked with embarrassment and tried to shake off the memory.
Why was she suddenly thinking of nothing but that kiss? She should be worrying about her business and thinking about the future and instead her head was filled with memories of uncontrolled passion in the hot, humid rainforest.
Her life was now a mess of tangled problems and her brain should have been filled with numbers and solutions to those problems. Instead it was full of the wonder of that kiss and the sounds of love echoed in her head; gasps, soft moans of encouragement, his voice, thrillingly deep and unfamiliar, urging her on …
She shook her head to clear the vision. There was no point in remembering the kiss. No point at all. And no point in indulging in silly, girlish fantasies, she told herself firmly. He wasn’t the right man for her and a little hot passion in the steamy jungle didn’t change that fact.
Her world and his world didn’t coincide.
‘I haven’t even thanked you for the dress. It’s beautiful and it even fits—just.’ She kept her tone light and smiled her thanks as Maria placed a drink in front of her. ‘The owner was obviously a size smaller than me.’
‘It looks better on you.’ He lifted his glass in her direction and delivered a slow, appreciative smile that was unmistakably masculine. ‘Much better.’
His careless dismissal of the owner of the dress was completely in character and yet questions throbbed in her head and she bit her lip to hold them back.
Whose was it?
Did you love her?
Did you hurt her?
Did you look at her the way you’re looking at me now?
Conscious of his gaze, Grace slid a hand over the shimmering fabric. ‘I can’t imagine why anyone would leave it behind.’ It was the sort of dress that made a girl feel beautiful.
‘The owner was in rather a hurry to leave. I seem to recall that jungle life didn’t suit her.’ His voice was a soft accented drawl and revealed nothing about his feelings or emotions but she knew—sensed without a shadow of doubt—that it wasn’t jungle life that hadn’t suited the owner of the dress but life with Rafael Cordeiro.
So he had hurt her. Clearly the girl had walked away without even pausing to pick up her belongings.
And knowing that, why was she still sitting here, allowing the atmosphere to pull her in? Why was she allowing him to draw her into the intimacy of his gaze? Knowing what she knew, just how much was she prepared to risk?
Her self-esteem?
A lifetime of pain for a moment’s pleasure? Her heart?
She pushed the question away. ‘You’re a very complicated man, Rafael.’ Her voice was husky and she gave him a shy smile as she lifted her glass to her lips and sipped the wine. ‘Cold and hot at the same time. You claim to not like people and yet there’s kindness in you, I know there is.’
‘Don’t turn me into something soft and cuddly, Grace.’ There was a warning in his voice and she smiled at the image that his words created because they were so far removed from reality.
‘No, never that.’ His steady gaze unsettled her. ‘But you treated Carlos and Filomena with kindness and respect. And you clearly care about them or you wouldn’t have been so angry with me.’
His eyes mocked. ‘I’m a saint. I’m sure you’ve heard that about me.’
‘I don’t listen to gossip. I prefer to make my own judgements.’ ‘A woman who doesn’t gossip?’ He raised his glass in a silent toast. ‘Are you a betrayer of your sex, Grace?’
‘No. But I know that appearances can be deceptive. People make judgements based on their own experiences. Isn’t that what you did with me? When I arrived you made that comment about lying and cheating being part of a woman’s genes. But you weren’t born thinking that. Who made you think that, Rafael?’
He studied her for a long moment, his eyes lingering on hers as he considered her question. ‘Perhaps you have escaped the lying and cheating gene but you seem to have more than your fair share of the psychology one. Why do you want to know about me, Grace?’
‘Because I want to help.’
He gave a sardonic smile. ‘Do I look as though I need help?’ He leaned back in his chair and glanced around his surroundings and she understood the message in his gaze. Yes, they were in the jungle but that didn’t for one moment detract from the luxury of his home or the abundant evidence of his extreme wealth. The clues were everywhere.
‘I wasn’t talking about money. Obviously you don’t need money.’
‘Then what do I need, Grace?’ His soft tone bordered on the dangerous and his eyes warned her to drop the subject.
‘Love.’ She stumbled over the word. ‘You need love. I don’t believe your reputation or the image you portray. I’ve seen kindness and when it’s anything to do with Brazil, your own country, you’re passionate.’
He leaned forward, his eyes on her mouth. ‘I’m not arguing that I’m passionate. I’m even prepared to demonstrate how passionate. And I’m more than happy to allow women to love me in any way they choose.’
She looked at the arrogantly arched brows, the roughness darkening his aggressive jaw and knew that he wasn’t ever going to be an easy man to love.
Physically, yes, that would be no problem. Even if she hadn’t heard the rumours she would have known that he was a hot-blooded, physical man. But nothing more than that. Nothing deeper. The barriers were up and he wasn’t allowing her even a peep into his soul.
No one was allowed too close.
Flustered by how much she wanted to get close, she chose to change the subject. ‘Do you often bring people here?’
‘That depends on who they are and their purpose for visiting. The activities on offer here—’ he smiled slightly as his eyes dropped to her mouth ‘—are limited.’
Her whole body heated under his lazy scrutiny and she shifted in her chair and reached for her wine. ‘Did you build it?’ Keeping the conversation moving and neutral was hard because she had the distinct feeling that he didn’t want to talk at all. And he was looking at her in that way and all she really wanted to do was lean across the table and beg him to kiss her, touch her, the way he had in the forest.
And that impulse shocked her because she’d never felt that way about anyone before. Especially not anyone as hugely unsuitable as Rafael Cordeiro.
If there was ever a man designed to break a woman’s heart, it was he.
‘The lodge?’ He was still looking
at her mouth. ‘Yes. I wanted somewhere that was inaccessible and private.’
‘Because people bother you. Do you have family?’
‘I don’t give interviews, Grace. Not to colleagues, journalists—or lovers.’ He lingered over the word as if testing the sound of it and her heart gave a little jump.
‘But you can’t live your whole life having nothing to do with people.’
‘I have plenty to do with people,’ his eyes lifted to hers, ‘if they happen to interest me.’
Which basically meant anyone who made him money or warmed his bed.
That was what he was saying, wasn’t it? Was he trying to shock her? Or was he making a proposition?
The heat pulsed through her and a dull ache spread across her pelvis. ‘It must be nice to be able to escape. But you don’t stop working, even here away from the city, bright lights and offices.’
The smooth lift of his eyebrows drew attention to the fact that she’d just revealed that she’d been watching him work.
‘I couldn’t sleep that well last night,’ she confessed hastily, ‘and I was looking out of my window. I saw you. Working on the computer. Talking on the phone.’ Sleepless. Driven. What were you thinking of down there in the dark with only a flickering screen for company? What demons robbed you of sleep?
‘I had work to do.’ But the cold brevity of his statement didn’t convince her and she sensed his withdrawal. Not physically. Physically he hadn’t moved. But emotionally, something had shifted. The simmering connection between them was damped down by something cold and remote and she knew for sure that he lived with darkness. Something dark and painful that haunted him and she knew that his wakeful night had nothing to do with work and everything to do with his own personal demons.
Who had twisted his view of life?
Was it his wife or was it more?