Protecting His Defiant Innocent

by Michelle Smart

  He should leave her on the dance floor and go to bed. He wasn’t her babysitter. His protection of her did not involve making sure she was safely tucked up at night. Judging by the animation on her face and in her body she’d found her second wind and wouldn’t be going to bed any time soon.

  Felipe sighed and signalled to a passing waiter for another beer.

  He couldn’t leave her.

  And neither could he take his eyes from her.

  He accepted his beer with a nod of thanks.

  He sipped it slowly, watching her dance.

  How could someone be so uninhibited? Did it come naturally to her or was it something she’d forced herself to be? He suspected it was the former, that this woman on the dance floor was the closest to the real Francesca he’d seen in their short time together.

  It felt as if he’d been in her company for weeks.

  She kept glancing at him, sometimes overtly, beckoning him with a finger to join her, to which he always shook his head.

  Hell would freeze over before he’d dance with anyone, let alone Francesca Pellegrini. Watching her move and imagining her body flush against his own was enough torture to inflict on himself.

  And sometimes her glances were fleeting, as if she couldn’t help but look. Just as he couldn’t help but look at her.

  He shifted in his seat then smiled sardonically when a waiter brought the three dancing ladies a cocktail each. So much for his keen attention to detail—he’d no idea how or when she’d ordered them but seeing as they were Tequila Sunrises, he knew damn well they’d come from Francesca.

  She met his eye again and winked, then drank her cocktail and returned to dancing with gusto.

  The bubble of laughter swelling inside him died on his lips when one of her straps fell down her slender arm. She giggled and pulled it up, only for it to fall straight back down again.

  The attraction Felipe had been trying to contain all night seemed to burst through him, the pulsing music dimming to a background noise as blood roared through his ears.

  Shoving his chair back, he got to his feet.

  It was time to call it a night before he did something he regretted, like joining Francesca on the dance floor and holding her so close she’d be able to feel his desire for herself.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FELIPE MADE IT out of the restaurant and was halfway across the atrium when he heard light footsteps behind him.

  ‘You left without me!’ she accused.

  He closed his eyes tightly and prayed for strength.

  When he opened them he found Francesca’s beautiful face gazing up at him, her skin glowing from her exertion on the dance floor. She didn’t look upset at him leaving. If anything, she looked far too knowing.

  ‘We weren’t on a date and it’s late,’ he felt compelled to remind her. And remind himself. When she looked at him like that...

  ‘Have I annoyed you again?’

  He could laugh at her lack of guile. How many times had he heard his colleagues complain that women never made it easy for them, always expecting them to read their minds and know when something was wrong rather than just coming out and saying it? There was none of that with Francesca. Her emotions were always on the surface.

  ‘No, you haven’t annoyed me.’

  ‘Good.’ She tucked her arm through his. ‘Then you can walk me back to my room.’

  If she didn’t look so unsteady on her feet he would shake her off.

  He was annoyed enough with himself for allowing their meal drag on so long and for hanging around to watch her dance when he should have taken the earliest opportunity to escape.

  His heart sinking in rhythm with his warming skin, Felipe took a deep breath and led the way.

  ‘I’ve had a wonderful evening,’ she said. ‘Thank you for keeping me company.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘And you?’ When he didn’t answer, she prompted, ‘Have you had a nice evening?’

  That was a question he was not prepared to answer with anything more than a noncommittal grunt.

  Thankfully they’d reached her door, allowing him to remove his arm from her hold and step back.

  She rummaged in her bag and found her key card and immediately dropped it.

  ‘Oops.’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ he muttered.

  He scooped it up and swiped the lock for her, then opened the door.

  ‘Do you want to come in?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘The bar’s got beer in it,’ she said temptingly.

  ‘I’ve had enough to drink.’ He’d drunk only half of what she had but, as he’d reminded himself a dozen times throughout their meal, he was working. All that dancing had probably worked a lot of the alcohol out of her system but she was by no means sober. And she’d had the extra cocktail on the dance floor...

  Yes, there was no way she was sober. Felipe was used to drinking with hardened men, not slender—but curvy, Dios, he could not get those curves out of his mind—women.

  She bit her lip then tilted her head. ‘Don’t you find me attractive?’

  God give him strength.

  ‘I need to get some sleep.’

  ‘You haven’t answered my question. You didn’t answer my last question either.’

  The strap of her dress fell down again. He spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I’m not going to answer it.’

  Heavy footsteps trod towards them. He turned to see a man around his own age heading their way.

  ‘Get into your room.’ Felipe took hold of her wrist and walked her in. He didn’t want to advertise the fact she would be alone in her suite.

  The door closed quietly behind them.

  Resolutely, he kept his back pressed against it. He would count to ten and then leave.

  One. Two. Three.

  ‘You do find me attractive,’ she whispered, eyes shining as she stood before him.

  Four. Five. Six.

  She raised herself onto her toes and palmed his cheeks with hands as soft as anything he’d ever felt. ‘I find you attractive too,’ she breathed.

  Seven. Eight...

  He lost the count when her breath danced over his lips and her mouth found his.

  Holding his breath, he clenched his hands into fists and willed himself not to respond.

  He couldn’t. He mustn’t.

  Francesca’s lips didn’t move. Not for a long time. He felt her breathe him in and fought not to inhale. Then she did move. Just a little. A turn of her head to cover his mouth better, a gentle, tentative exploration of his lips while her fingers made a gentle, tentative exploration of his cheeks and jaw, rubbing against his beard and up to trace the contours of his ears.

  He fought to hold on, fought to deny the sensation burning through him.

  He might have won had he not opened his mouth to let in air and her tongue darted through his parted lips. In an instant he was filled with the sweet heat of her kiss and the fingers he’d raised to yank her hands away from him were cradling her skull as he kissed her back as deeply as a parched man drinking from a cup.

  She tasted sweeter than he could have dreamed.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck while his arm hooked around her waist to crush her to him. She melted into him with a breathy sigh, charging his desire like a rocket.

  He roamed her curves, finding her waist, her hips, her bottom, which was round and pert and felt delectable beneath his fingers. She was delectable. Soft and womanly beyond imagination.

  Rising onto her toes had the effect of lifting her dress. When he skimmed down her thigh he came to bare skin that had him sucking in a breath at its satin sheen and holding her tightly so he could devour her mouth again.

  It was her response that so ble
w his mind. Her hunger was as acute as his own and it fed his.

  He could take her now if he wanted and she would welcome him with the breathy sighs that were growing in intensity. God knew, he wanted to take her, this craving like nothing he had ever known.

  His exploring hands ran up her bare thighs to find her panties and he slipped a finger under the skimpy material and almost groaned aloud to feel the hot dampness there.

  She squirmed against him, one foot running up and down the length of his leg, kissing him, licking him, her teeth grazing his neck then kissing up to brush her cheeks against his beard like a purring cat. He could taste her desire in her kisses, smell it in the heat radiating off her.

  Tugging the panties down her hips, he pressed the palm of his hand over the soft, downy hair and felt the gasp that flew from her throat. She pressed her pubis into him but before he could explore any further, her nails suddenly dug through his shirt and into his flesh and she collapsed into him, crying out and shuddering.

  And then she stilled.

  For a long, drawn out moment Felipe couldn’t find his breath. Francesca didn’t seem to be breathing either.

  The only sound he heard with any clarity was the roar of blood in his ears.

  It was like the room was clearing of fog. Slowly they released their hold on each other and took wary steps back.

  What the hell did he think he was playing at? Had he lost his mind?

  Francesca put trembling hands to her mouth, covering it as if in prayer, her eyes wide and dazed.

  He felt pretty dazed himself.

  He breathed out deeply.

  He’d been minutes away from making love to her. There were no excuses he could make.

  For the first time in his life he’d let his desire guide him and his loathing for himself tasted like salt on his tongue.

  He was a thirty-six-year-old man. He knew better than this. He demanded better than to behave like this.

  He should never have followed her into the suite, not when his awareness of her and the desire in his loins had been simmering since the first moment he’d set eyes on her.

  ‘I need to go.’

  She jerked her head and took another step back. He took it as agreement.

  His heart hammering, he backed away to the door and left.

  * * *

  Francesca put the pillow over her head to drown out the sound of the knocking on the door. She knew who it was and she did not want to see him. She didn’t want to see him ever again. She couldn’t. It was just too mortifying.

  She’d rather dance naked through the streets of Caballeros with the lecherous Governor ogling her than see Felipe again.

  Her cheeks scalded to remember how she’d come undone with one touch.

  One touch.

  Why didn’t she know that could happen? How could she have known when she hadn’t even kissed a man before?

  His face. He’d been horrified.

  No wonder he’d run from her suite.

  And to think she’d gone into the restaurant hating him.

  She’d just wanted to kiss him.

  It was his smile that had done it, one unguarded curve of those gorgeous lips that had made her own lips tingle and her pulses quicken.

  She’d spent almost their entire meal fantasising about the feel of his lips on hers.

  Curiosity had certainly killed the cat.

  She couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, although she wished she could. It had loosened her inhibitions considerably but she’d been the one to drive the kiss, not the Tequila Sunrises.

  She’d played with fire and been burnt for her trouble. She certainly wouldn’t open the door to the man who’d lit it.

  The phone beside her bed rang.

  She wanted to scream. Just leave me alone!

  She snatched the receiver up. ‘What?’

  ‘You have one minute to open your door or I break it down.’

  The dial tone played out before she could summon the words to answer back.

  Throwing on her robe, she hurried to open the door a crack before Felipe could follow up on his threat.

  He was already there.

  He didn’t wait for an invite, simply pushed the door open and strode in, glass of fizzing water in hand.

  ‘Drink that,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘It’ll help your hangover.’

  ‘I don’t have a hangover.’ She was quite sure the sickness in her belly was nothing to do with alcohol. Her banging head might be, though.

  ‘Just drink it.’

  How could he look so fresh? He’d showered, his charcoal suit crisply pressed, his hair still damp.

  Sulkily, she did as she was told and gulped the liquid down. It tasted much less disgusting than she expected.

  He took a deep breath. ‘May I sit down?’

  No. Go away and let me sleep away my mortification. ‘If you want.’

  He sat on the armchair in the corner and indicated for her to sit on the sofa.

  Perching herself gingerly, aware of the humiliation ravaging her, she tried to put on a brave face. Tried to show she didn’t care what he thought of her.

  But she did care. She really did.

  ‘I must apologise for my behaviour last night,’ he said heavily. ‘I should never have taken advantage of you as I did.’

  The last thing she’d expected was an apology.

  His choice of words made her study him properly.

  Her heart loosened to see he wasn’t angry with her. Felipe’s anger was directed at himself.

  His self-recrimination also loosened her tongue. ‘You didn’t take advantage of me. If anything I took advantage of you. I started it.’

  ‘You were drunk,’ he refuted flatly.

  ‘Not drunk enough that I didn’t know what I was doing.’

  Heat pulsed between her thighs as she remembered how wonderful it had been in that moment and how she’d ached to do so much more. She’d had no idea such feelings existed in her. Desire and curiosity had erupted into something she’d had no control over.

  And he’d been a full participant. She’d been so busy castigating herself and so busy focussing on his abrupt departure from her suite that she’d pushed aside his response. She might not have had any prior experience but she’d felt his arousal pressed hard against her belly and known what it meant. He’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him.

  He dug his fingers into the back of his skull, a set look in his jaw. ‘I run my company with strict rules. No relations with the client.’

  ‘Is that what you call it? Relations?’

  ‘We both know what it means.’ Now he pressed his hand to his forehead. ‘It’s not just the rules I abide by. It’s you. You’re too young to be messing around with men old enough to be your...’

  ‘Big brother?’ she supplied.

  His jaw clenched. ‘Francesca, you are in my care for a very good reason. You’re too young and too vulnerable to be party to a tawdry affair.’

  ‘My mother got married at nineteen. She was pregnant with Pieta when she was my age. If my family had had their way, I would be married with kids by now. If I want to be party to a tawdry affair, then I’m more than old enough to make that choice.’

  ‘But you are vulnerable and grieving. You can’t argue with that.’ He got to his feet. ‘You’re my client. There can be nothing between us. Do you understand that?’

  She stared at him for a long time, taking in the tension radiating from him. He hadn’t looked her in the eye since entering her suite.

  ‘Answer me one thing,’ she said. ‘One of the questions I asked last night, and this time I want an answer. Are you attracted to me?’

  ‘Whatever attraction I feel is irrelevant,’ he answered roughly
.

  ‘It wasn’t irrelevant last night.’

  ‘Last night was a mistake that will not be repeated.’

  ‘Says you?’

  Jaw clenched, he strode to the door. ‘This conversation is over. If you still want to visit the hospital site and meet up with the charity, then I suggest you get dressed. We leave in thirty minutes.’

  He left her suite without further comment.

  Alone, Francesca drew her knees to her chin and hugged her legs. She felt she could start dancing again.

  For all her fears that she’d made another monumental mistake, Felipe did desire her and that knowledge took away the sting of his rejection. If he’d flat-out denied it she thought it possible she might be tempted to curl into hedgehog-like ball and hibernate until she could be sure of looking at him without toe-curling shame and embarrassment. That the attraction was mutual made it a whole lot easier to bear even if he was adamant that last night was a one off.

  Eventually she straightened and took some long breaths, forcing herself to concentrate on what was important. She was in the Caribbean for a reason and that reason wasn’t for a holiday or for a man.

  The woman she was meeting from the Blue Train Agency had promised to discuss the hospital, the needs of the people and how Francesca should navigate her way around the additional bureaucracy she would find.

  She needed to be alert and have her professional head on, not be fantasising about what it would take to wear down Felipe’s defences.

  * * *

  The day passed quickly and much more productively than Francesca could have hoped. Eva Bergen from the Blue Train Agency had been there to meet her at Caballeros’ airport, as she’d promised, escorted by a couple of Felipe’s men, and they’d spent the day visiting the site where they hoped to build the hospital and met some of the officials she’d have to deal with when the site was signed over to Pieta’s foundation on Saturday. After arranging meetings with the other officials for the next day, they headed back to Aguadilla.

  When they dropped Seb and James off at their lodging, she stayed in the back of the car to make more calls without the distraction of Felipe’s strong thighs in her eyeline.