by Sarah Morgan
She yanked her suit from the hanger and stuffed it into her bag. ‘I just bet you do. In fact you hate everything that has a breath of emotion connected to it because emotions make you uncomfortable, don’t they, Rafael?’ She grabbed the linen dress and stuffed it into the bag after the suit, uncaring about the future state of either of them. ‘You can walk through a jungle full of predators and it won’t raise a sweat or a kick in your pulse rate, but stick an emotion in your path and all of a sudden you’re on full alert in case it jumps up and bites you.’ She yanked the zip of the bag so violently that it was a wonder it didn’t object by breaking. Then she snapped the bag shut and slung it over her shoulder, glaring at him. She was so upset that she felt as though her whole body was on the verge of explosion. She didn’t know whether to sob or scream but she wasn’t going to do either with him watching. ‘You’re a snake, Rafael. Worse than anything the rainforest has to offer. And do you know something else? You may be an incredible lover but you’re emotionally sterile. You’re not capable of feeling anything, are you? Well, you’d better call that helicopter back, because our passion is well and truly over.’
She left the room without glancing back at him, wondering where to go while she waited for the helicopter to arrive. And it would arrive, she knew that. Now that their fragile relationship had been torn to shreds, it wouldn’t be long before she heard the sound of an engine overhead.
He’d want her out of here, away from his private hideaway, so that he could get back to licking his wounds in private.
But she couldn’t even focus on his wounds at the moment because her own were so deep.
One thing she knew, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him while she waited.
Rafael lay on top of the rumpled bed, his eyes fixed on the trees that provided the view from his bedroom as he tried to identify the unfamiliar feelings inside him.
Completely unaccustomed to reflection or self-analysis, he gave up almost instantly.
She was right, he told himself. He was emotionally sterile. Completely unable to feel anything. But why did she think that was a bad thing? As far as he was concerned, it was fine. That was the way he wanted it. In fact, he’d worked really hard to achieve that state of equilibrium.
And last night had been amazing.
The sex had been incredible. Mind-blowing. And surprising. One moment she was shy, the next gloriously uninhibited.
He gave a brief frown. There’d been a moment when he’d actually wondered whether she was a virgin but her response had been so hot and passionate that he’d dismissed the thought almost instantly. No virgin would have responded to him the way she had and he’d simply made a mental note to take things a little slower the next time.
The sexual explosion that had consumed them had been every bit as powerful as he’d anticipated and he’d found himself looking forward to a feast of endless hot sex that would continue until he grew bored with her.
Looking at the door, which she’d closed firmly behind her—so firmly that the entire building had rattled—he wondered with weary resignation what had possessed him to think that life could be that simple.
When, with a woman, was life ever simple?
And despite the fact that Grace Thacker was surprising in many ways, deep down she was the same as the others.
Not just because her goal in life was clearly financial gain without any degree of effort, but because she played the usual games that women always did when going to bed with a man. Why weren’t they ever just straightforward? Why couldn’t chemistry just be chemistry and not have to be twisted into a Happy-Ever-After?
Driven by frustration, he sprang out of bed and prowled around the bedroom, trying to sort out his thoughts.
She’d accused him of emotional sterility but couldn’t he also accuse her of emotional dishonesty?
What they shared was sex and nothing more.
So why couldn’t she admit that instead of making everything so complicated?
What possible relevance did his emotions have in the context of their relationship? Her only interest in him should be in his physical stamina and the size of his wallet and, as far as he was concerned, he excelled at both. So why did she persist in her tiresome crusade to persuade him of her innocence?
Surely taking her to bed had more than proved that he didn’t care about her intrinsic greed? That he was more than willing to accept her as she was.
What was her obsession with innocence?
Unless she was, quite genuinely, sorry for what she’d done.
Either way, as far as he was concerned, it was finished.
Today he was going to make it his personal mission to ensure that the dealer’s career in greed and deception was abruptly ended.
Like a man on a mission, he strode off to his office to make some phone calls.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DESPERATELY upset by their confrontation, Grace walked quickly into the forest, following the path to the waterfall and pool that had proved so tranquil the evening before.
What right did she have to be upset?
What right?
Had he made her promises? No, he hadn’t.
So why did she feel so let down, so completely disappointed?
Because she’d thought she’d seen something in him.
She’d never felt so confused in her life. Her newly awakened body was humming and part of her wanted to rush back to the lodge, crawl into bed beside Rafael and forget the complications of her life. He was able to see their relationship in simple, straightforward terms—so why couldn’t she?
The answer to that lay in the fact that there was one fundamental difference between them.
Despite everything that had happened in her life, she’d never lost hope, whereas Rafael.
She felt something sad inside her as she finally acknowledged the truth about him. Rafael appeared entirely disillusioned with women and life in general. Somewhere in his past, he’d lost all hope.
She walked on, her vision blurred, and it took about twenty minutes for her to realise that there was no sign of the forest pool. Nor could she hear the waterfall. Which meant that somehow, somewhere, she’d taken the wrong path.
Ignoring the flicker of unease that sprang to life inside her, she stopped and looked around her, searching for something, anything, that she recognised, but it was all horribly unfamiliar.
Had they come this way the day before?
Had she passed the forest pool without even realising?
Deciding that her best option was to turn round and retrace her steps, she plodded back along the path, suddenly aware of all the shrieks, calls and sounds that filled the air around her. The leaves and branches beside her feet seemed to rustle and above her she saw a large spider, clinging to its web.
Yesterday, with Rafael’s powerful body striding ahead of her, she’d felt strangely secure. Now, totally alone in the dense, almost oppressive rainforest, she felt a flicker of fear that she struggled hard to contain.
Panicking would get her nowhere, she reminded herself firmly, but then stopped in despair as the path forked. Left or right? She didn’t remember even seeing a fork in the path on the way. And now it was almost impossible not to panic.
She couldn’t be that far from the lodge, she reasoned, giving the spider a wide berth. She’d been walking for less than half an hour. Which meant that sooner or later someone would come and find her.
Or would they?
Was Rafael tucked up in front of his computer screen, working, oblivious to the fact that she was even missing?
It didn’t make sense.
With mounting frustration, Rafael dropped the phone back onto his desk and stared out of the window, his mouth set in a grim line.
Now what?
He’d spent an hour on the phone and it had proved to be the most exasperating and perplexing hour of his life. And, far from being answered, the questions had multiplied. The manipulation of the figures went deeper than he’d first imagined.
Which meant that she’d been telling him the truth all along.
He ran a hand over his face and cursed softly as he forced himself to face facts.
She hadn’t stolen anything, nor was she guilty of fraud and deception.
Which made her not dishonest, but quite astonishingly naïve.
He found it impossible to comprehend that she hadn’t noticed the discrepancies in the company accounts. She was young, yes, but she was running a business. How could she not have suspected? Hadn’t she looked?
Trying to curb his mounting frustration, he leaned forward, jabbed a button on his phone with an impatient finger and simmered at his desk until Maria appeared.
‘Ask Miss Thacker to join me.’ He spoke in Portuguese, his voice silky smooth, and his fingers drummed a steady rhythm on the table. She had the answers he needed, he was sure of it. It was simply a case of asking the right questions and, up until now, he clearly hadn’t been doing that.
‘Miss Thacker has gone into the forest.’
Little Red Riding Hood, escaping from the wolf.
Rafael’s hand stilled and a frown touched his brows. ‘She’s gone for a swim again?’
Maria shook her head. ‘I don’t think she had a costume with her.’ The housekeeper hesitated. ‘And she looked a little upset.’
Not pausing to question why the opinion of his housekeeper should suddenly matter to him, Rafael shot to his feet, cursing softly. ‘How long ago?’ ‘Maybe half an hour?’
Long enough for her to have got into serious trouble. What had possessed her? Why had she just wandered off like that?
But he knew the answer to that, of course. She’d repeatedly pleaded her innocence and he hadn’t believed her. She’d wandered off because she was upset and he was the one who’d upset her.
By not trusting her.
But why would he have trusted her, he asked himself savagely, when he’d never had reason to trust a single woman in the past?
Without wasting time indulging in the type of analysis and reflection that he considered to be a complete waste of time, Rafael strode out of the lodge and followed the ancient path that led deep into the rainforest. In parts it was barely passable and the tension in his shoulders increased as he contemplated what might have happened to a woman with no experience of the jungle. A woman who was upset and not concentrating.
He called her name but there was no response and he felt something uncomfortable shift inside him as he thought of the dangers of the rainforest.
Venomous spiders, snakes—
And then he gave a silent, self-deprecating laugh as the truth stared him in the face. She’d chosen to face all those rather than risk bumping into him again. So what did that say about him?
That he was a man any decent, honest woman would do well to avoid, and he knew, now, that Grace Thacker was a decent, honest woman. Naïve? Hopeless with figures? Too young and inexperienced to be running a business? Stupid?
Maybe one, if not all, of those things, but dishonest—no.
And this time, when she talked, he was going to listen. Properly. He was going to treat her carefully because clearly she was completely ill-equipped for surviving in the corporate jungle.
Guilt, uncomfortable and unfamiliar, scraped over his nerve-endings and he quickened his pace in the hope that exercise might relieve his growing tension.
He’d warned her, hadn’t he? He’d revealed the man he was right from the start. There was no way she could accuse him of deception or even insincerity.
She’d come to him of her own free will and he wasn’t to blame if she’d imagined something deep inside him that he knew just wasn’t there. Was he responsible for the fact that she’d credited him with a depth of feeling when he knew that there was only emptiness inside him?
Whose fault was that?
His for allowing cynicism to blind him, or hers for allowing naivety to let her imagine qualities that he didn’t possess?
He was so lost in the darkness of his own thoughts that he almost didn’t notice her, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, her face pale.
He gave a low growl. ‘What the hell were you thinking of, walking into the rainforest?’ Anger erupted inside him with explosive force, all his promises to treat her carefully vanishing in his relief at finding her apparently unharmed.
‘Rafael …’ Visibly startled, she began to stand up but then his gaze flickered to something moving above her and he froze, his hand sliding to the stick that he carried in his belt.
‘Stay still!’
He saw her narrow shoulders tense but she did as he ordered and he stepped forward and used the stick to carefully move the black and yellow snake away from her shoulder.
She turned her head slowly, her eyes widening as she focused on the thick, exotically coloured snake that slowly climbed the tree next to her. ‘Is it poisonous?’
‘No. But I didn’t think you’d appreciate a three-metre-long snake snuggling into your lap.’ The glassy pallor of her skin fuelled his temper. ‘It could have been poisonous, Grace.’ More unsettled by that thought than he would have believed possible, he reached down and yanked her to her feet, his eyes blazing into hers.
‘What did you think you were doing? This is the rainforest, not Bond Street. You don’t just go for a gentle stroll!’
‘I know that.’
‘Then what the hell were you doing walking along this path?’ He’d just removed a snake from within inches of her neck. Why wasn’t she clinging to him or screaming hysterically? It occurred to him that she was the most unpredictable woman he’d ever met. ‘It’s impossible to understand you! You just don’t behave the way every other woman would behave!’
‘Given your views on women, I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Her eyes flickered around her and she licked her lips and moved closer to him, clearly unsettled by the sudden presence of the snake. ‘I took a wrong turning.’
‘A wrong turning?’ His fingers bit into her upper arms and he gave her a little shake, incredulity mixing with exasperation. ‘How could you possibly have taken a wrong turning? It isn’t a complex route.’
Colour tinged her cheeks. ‘I—I wasn’t concentrating and I mixed up my left and my right.’
‘You did what?’ He shook his head, not even bothering to conceal his frustration with her. ‘Out here, that sort of mistake can mean the difference between life and death. Don’t you realise that? Are you stupid?’ He felt her tense in his arms and then she pulled away from him and lifted her head to look at him.
Something shone in her eyes. Tears? Anger? He wasn’t sure.
‘Don’t ever call me stupid.’ Her voice was hoarse. Raw with hurt and pain. ‘I accept that I took the wrong path and I realise that getting lost in the rainforest could have had disastrous consequences, but I’m not stupid. Don’t call me that, ever again.’
He spread his hands, baffled as to why a single word should trigger a greater emotional response than an enormous snake. ‘Then why did you allow yourself to get lost?’
She hesitated for a moment before answering, her chest rising and falling as she sucked the air into her lungs. ‘Because I always confuse left and right.’
‘Why would you confuse left and right?’ He looked at her, uncomprehending, and she swallowed hard.
‘Because I’m dyslexic.’
He stared at her. ‘You’re dyslexic?’
‘That’s right.’
Dyslexic? Rafael spent a moment or two sifting through the archives of his brain. ‘You mean that you have problems reading?’
‘Actually no, I’m not too bad at reading, but I’m hopeless at directions, I always mix up my left and right and I’m terrible at numbers.’ She looked away from him, the heat burning in her cheeks. ‘Absolutely appalling at numbers. But I suppose you already know that.’
He did?
Stunned by her confession and still trying to grasp the implications of her reluctant confession, he frowned. ‘You didn’t get lost yesterday on your way to the forest pool.’
‘I asked Maria for directions and wrote left and right on my hands. It washed off in the pool, otherwise I wouldn’t have got lost today.’
He let out a long breath. ‘You’re telling me that you can’t read figures and yet you’re running your own business?’
‘It shouldn’t matter. Plenty of dyslexics are extremely successful in business. My father is responsible for everything to do with the numbers. I can do everything else as long as I don’t have to look at the figures. Figures confuse me.’ Her tone was stiff and suddenly it all fell into place.
Not naïvety, not stupidity—dyslexia.
His expression suddenly grim, he reached down and closed a hand round her slender wrist. ‘Come on.’ ‘Where are we going?’
‘Back to the lodge, where I can ask you the questions that need to be asked. And this time I want the truth, Grace. No holding back.’
‘My dyslexia isn’t important and I don’t want you to treat me differently because—’
‘Grace—’ he hauled her against him and glared down at her as anger, as intense as it was inexplicable, bubbled up inside him, ‘do me a favour and let me decide what’s important. This time I want to know everything. And I mean everything. If there’s something in that head of yours that you don’t think I need or want to know, then I especially want to know about that.’
Grace stood in his office again, listening to the interminable buzz of the phone. It was like an annoying insect, she thought numbly. He might be hiding out in the rainforest but people still didn’t leave him alone.
Only he clearly had no intention of talking to anyone. He lifted the receiver, instructed someone to filter his calls until further notice, his tone short and clipped. Then he dropped the phone back into its cradle and turned his attention to her.
‘All right.’ He lounged in his chair, his eyes watchful. ‘I’m listening.’