by Maya Blake
His hand stroked down her cheek. ‘You hate yourself for the way you feel.’
Feeling exposed, she tried to pull away. He held her firmer. ‘Ruby mio, I think you’ll agree we went way past business when we spent the night together in my bed. Talk to me,’ he coaxed.
She drew in a shaky breath and reassured herself that they were talking. Just talking. ‘I hate that my family is broken and I can’t see a way to fix it without being forced to live my life in a media circus.’
‘And yet you chose that avenue to fund your business.’
‘Believe me, it wasn’t my first choice.’
‘Then why did you do it?’
‘We’d tried getting loans from the banks with no success. Simon heard about the show and convinced me to enter. Taking three weeks out of my life to be on the show felt like a worthy sacrifice.’
‘So you returned to the thing you hate the most in order to achieve your goal.’
‘Does that make me a fool?’
‘No, it makes you brave.’
The unexpected compliment made her heart stutter. Silver eyes rested on her, assessing her so thoroughly, she squirmed. Of course the movement made her body rub dangerously against his.
He emitted a leonine growl and the arm around her waist tightened. One hand caught her bent leg and hitched it higher between his legs. The bold imprint of his erection seared her thigh. Heat flared between them, raw and fervent.
‘So you don’t think it’s wrong to do whatever it takes to achieve one’s dreams?’
His eyes darkened. ‘No. In fact, it’s a trait I wholeheartedly admire.’
Her throat clogged at the sincerity in his voice. The barriers she’d tried so hard to shore up threatened to crumble again. A pithy, mocking Narciso was bad enough. A gentle, caring Narciso in whose eyes she saw nothing but admiration and praise was even more dangerous to her already fragile emotions.
Scrambling to regroup, she laughed. ‘Dear God, am I dreaming? That’s two compliments within—’
‘Enough,’ he snapped. Then he kissed her.
Ruby’s heart soared at the ferocity of his kiss. Desire swept over her, burying the volatile memories under even more turbulent currents of passion as he mercilessly explored her mouth with a skill that left her reeling.
Narciso could kiss. She already had proof of that. But this time the sharper edge of hunger added another dimension that made her heart pump frantically, as she saw no let-up in the erotic torrents buffeting her.
When he sank back against the pillows and pulled her on top of him, she went willingly. Strong, demanding hands slid up her bare thighs to cup her bottom, press her against that solid evidence of his need.
Unfamiliar hunger shot through her belly to arrow between her legs. Desperate to ease it, she rocked her hips deeper into him.
His thick groan echoed between their fused lips. He surged up to meet her, thrusting against her in an undeniable move that made her blood pound harder.
With her damp centre plastered so firmly and fully against him, she moaned as the beginnings of a tingle seized her spine. Hunger tore through her as rough fingers bit into her hips, keeping her firmly in place as they found a superb synchronicity that needed no words.
The first wave of sensation hit her from nowhere. She cried out, her fingers spiking into his hair as she grasped stability in a world gone haywire.
‘Dio! Let go, baby. Let go.’
The hot words, crooned in her ear from a voice she’d found mesmerising from the very first, were the final catalyst. With a jagged moan, Ruby gave into the bliss smashing through her. She melted on top of him, giving in to the hands petting down her back as her shudders eased.
‘I don’t know whether to celebrate for making you come while we’re both fully dressed or spank you for your appalling timing.’
Slowly, the realisation of what she’d just done pierced her euphoria.
Beneath her cheek, his heart raced. She could feel his erection still raging, strong and vital.
She’d orgasmed on top of Narciso Valentino and he hadn’t even needed to undress her.
‘Oh, God.’
Narciso held himself very still. He had to, or risk tearing her clothes off and taking her with the force of a rutting bull.
‘God isn’t going to help you now, naughty Ruby. You have to deal with me.’
‘I... That shouldn’t have happened.’
He nodded grimly. ‘I agree.’
Wide blue eyes locked on his. ‘You do?’
He swallowed hard. ‘It should’ve happened when I was inside you. Now I feel woefully deprived.’ Unable to stop himself, he moved his hands up and down her back. He tensed as her breathing changed. Desire thickened the air once more. Sensing her about to bolt, he flipped her over and trapped her underneath him. ‘But I have you now.’
She tried to wriggle away but all she did was exacerbate the flashflood of desire drowning them both.
‘No, I can’t... We can’t do this.’
He stiffened. ‘Why not?’
‘It won’t end well. Simon—’
His eyes narrowed into warning slits. ‘Was a cheating lowlife who didn’t deserve you. You and I together...we’re different. We deserve each other.’
Narciso speared his fingers into her soft hair. But instead of kissing her, he grazed his lips along her jaw and down her throat to the pulse racing crazily there. He drew down her sleeves, exposing her breasts to his mouth. His mind screamed at him to stop before it was too late, but he was already sliding his tongue over one nipple.
Dio! He’d never known a woman to smash so effortlessly through his defences.
Her nails raked his nape and he groaned in approval. By the time he turned his attention to her other nipple, her whimpers were adding fire to his raging arousal.
She tugged on his shirt and he gave in to her demand. With a ragged laugh, he helped her reef it over his head and divested her of her dress.
Stark hunger consumed him as he took a moment to feast his eyes on her exposed body. ‘You’re so beautiful.’ He drifted a hand down her chest and over her stomach to the top of her panties.
That disconcerting throb of possessiveness rocked through him again. He didn’t want to know who else she’d been with but, in that moment, Narciso was glad her ex-business partner had failed to make her his. He settled himself over her, taking her mouth in a scorching kiss that obliterated words and feelings he didn’t want to examine too closely.
His hand slid over her panties, hungrily seeking the heart of her. Her breath caught as his fingers breached her dampness and flicked over her sensitive flesh.
She jerked and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
‘Open your eyes, amante,’ he commanded. He wanted...no, needed to see her, to assure himself that she was sliding into insanity just as quickly as he was. When she refused to comply, he applied more pressure. ‘Do it or I’ll stop.’
Eyes full of arousal slowly opened. His breath fractured at the electrifying connection. His whole body tightened to breaking point and he mentally shook his head.
What the hell was happening here?
Her delicate shudder slowed his flailing thoughts. Absorbing her reaction, he inserted one finger inside her, drinking in her hitched cry as she shuddered again.
‘Dio, you’re so tight.’ He waited until she’d adjusted, then pressed in another finger.
Narciso was unprepared for her wince.
Instantly alert, he asked, ‘What’s wrong?’
She shook her head but he could see the trepidation in her eyes.
Those now familiar alarm bells shrieked. ‘Answer me, Ruby.’
Nervously, she licked her lips. ‘I’m...a virgin.’
Shock doused him in ice. For several seconds
he couldn’t move. Then the realisation of how close he’d come to taking her, to staking a claim on what he had no right to, hit him like a ton of bricks.
He surged back from her, reefing a hand through his hair as he inhaled sharply.
‘You’re a virgin,’ he repeated numbly.
Raising her chin, she stared back at him. ‘Yes.’
Several puzzle pieces finally slotted into place—the touches of innocence he’d spotted, her bolshiness even as she seemed out of her depth.
Her trepidation.
What had he said a moment ago—they deserved each other? Not any more.
Regret bit deep as he forced himself off the bed. ‘Then, cara mia, this is over.’
* * *
Ruby came out of the bathroom of her cabin and slowed to a stop. Glancing around her room, she tried again to grapple with the sheer opulence around her. The three-decked yacht, complete with helicopter landing pad, had made her jaw drop the first time she’d seen it two days ago.
But the inside of Narciso’s yacht was even more luxurious.
Black with a silver trim on the outside, it was an exact reverse on the inside. Silver and platinum vied with Carrara marble mined from the exclusive quarries north of Tuscany.
Her suite, complete with queen-size bed, sunken Jacuzzi bath and expensive toiletries, was the last word in luxury.
But all the opulence couldn’t stem the curious emptiness inside her.
Since her arrival in Belize, she’d barely seen Narciso. The only times she saw him was when she served the list of meals he’d approved the day they’d boarded The Warlock.
At first the studied consideration with which he’d treated her after she’d blurted her confession had surprised her. Who knew he was the sort of playboy who treated virgins as if they were sacred treasures?
But then she’d seen the look in his eyes. The regret. The banked pain. Her surprise had morphed into confusion.
She was still confused now as she tugged off her towel and headed for the drawer that held her meagre clothes. Only to stop dead at the sight of the monogrammed leather suitcase standing at the bottom of the bed.
She opened it. Silk sarongs, bikinis, sundresses, designer shoes and slippers fell out of the case as she dug through it, her stomach hollowing out with incredulity.
Dressing in the jeans and top she’d travelled to Macau in and taken to wearing since her arrival simply because the three evening gowns were totally out of the question, she went in search of the elusive Sicilian who seemed hell-bent on keeping her permanently off balance.
She found him on the middle deck, after getting lost twice. He wore white linen shorts and a dark blue polo shirt. The early evening sun slanted over jet-black hair, highlighting its vibrancy and making her recall how it had felt to run her hands through the strands.
The sight of his bare legs made her swallow before she reminded herself she wasn’t going to be affected by his stunning physique any longer. He’d pointedly avoided her for two whole days. She was damned if she’d let him catch her drinking him in as if he were her last hope for sustenance.
She was here to do a job. Whatever closeness they’d shared on his plane was gone, a temporary aberration never to be repeated. Her focus now needed to be on what she’d come here to do. But before that...
‘You bought me clothes?’ she asked.
He turned around, casually shoving his hands into his pockets. When his eyes met hers, she couldn’t read a single expression in the silver depths. The Narciso who’d alternately laughed, mocked and devoured her with his eyes was gone. In his place was a coolly remote stranger.
‘The size of your suitcase suggested you’d packed for a short stay. This is a solution to a potential problem. Unless you plan on wearing those jeans every day for the next week?’
True, in the strong Belizean sun, they felt hot and sticky on her skin. Not to mention they were totally inappropriate for the job she was here to do. When she cooked, she preferred looser, comfortable clothes.
But still. ‘I could’ve sorted my own wardrobe.’
‘You’re here on my schedule. Making time for you to go shopping doesn’t feature on there.’
‘I wouldn’t have—’
‘It was no big deal, Ruby. Let’s move on. It’s time to step up your game. I want to see how you fare with a three-course meal. Michel will assist you if you need it.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d like to eat at seven, which gives you two hours.’
The arrogant dismissal made her hackles rise. The distance between them made her feel on edge, bereft.
She assured herself it was better this way. But deep down, an ache took root.
Michel, Narciso’s chef, greeted her with an openly friendly smile when she entered the kitchen.
‘What do you have in mind for today for monsieur?’ the Frenchman asked. Deep blue eyes remained contemplative as he stared at her.
‘He wants to eat at seven so I was thinking of making a special bruschetta to start and chicken parmigiana main if we have the ingredients?’
‘Of course. I bought fresh supplies this morning from town.’
The mention of town made her wonder when Narciso had bought her clothes. Had he shopped for them himself or given instructions?
Shaking her head to dispel the useless wondering, she followed Michel into the pantry. ‘Oh...heaven!’ She fell on the plump tomatoes and aubergines and squealed when she saw the large heads of truffles carefully packed in a box.
Freshly sliced prosciutto hung from specially lined containers that kept it from drying out and Parma ham stayed cool in a nearby chiller.
Michel took out the deboned chicken breast in the fridge. ‘Would you like me to cut it up for you?’
‘Normally, I’d say yes, but I think it’s best if I do everything myself.’ She smiled to take the sting out of the refusal.
He shrugged. ‘Shout if you need anything.’ After helping himself to a bottle of water, he left her alone.
Ruby selected the best knife and began chopping garlic, onions and the fresh herbs Michel kept in the special potted containers in the pantry.
The sense of calm and pure joy in bringing the ingredients together finally soothed the unsettled feeling she’d experienced for the last forty-eight hours.
Time and anxiety suspended, and her thoughts floated away as she immersed herself in her one salvation—the joy of cooking.
She started on the caviar-topped bruschetta with ricotta and peppers while the parmigiana was in the last stages of cooking.
Setting it out on a sterling-silver tray, she headed upstairs to where the crew had set the table.
Her feet slowed when she saw the extra place setting, then she stopped completely at the intimacy created by the dim lighting and lit candles. Her stomach fluttered wildly as steel butterflies took flight inside her.
‘Are you going to stand there all evening?’ Narciso quipped from where he sat on a sofa that hugged the U-shape of the room.
‘I...thought I was cooking for just you.’
‘You thought wrong.’ He stood, came over and pulled out her chair. ‘Tonight we eat together.’ His gaze took in her jeans. ‘Right after you change.’
‘I don’t need to change.’
‘One rule of business is to learn to let the little things slide. Standing on principle and antagonising your potential business partner doesn’t make for a very good impression.’
‘I really appreciate you helping me out but—’
‘I would personally prefer not to eat with a dinner companion wearing clothes smeared with food.’
Ruby glanced down and, sure enough, a large oily streak had soiled her vest top.
He’d gone to the trouble of providing new clothes for her comfort. Would it hurt to show some appreciation?
In a few days, she’d be back in New York, hopefully with a contract firmly in her pocket. He’d made it clear she was no longer attractive to him in the sexual sense, so she had nothing to fear there.
‘I’ll go and change,’ she murmured around the disquiet spreading through her.
‘Grazie,’ he replied.
Returning to her suite, she quickly undressed and selected a soft peach, knee-length sundress with capped sleeves. Slipping her feet into three-inch wedged sandals, she tied her hair back and returned to the deck.
His gaze slid over her but his face remained neutral as he pulled out her chair.
‘Sit, and tell me what you’ve made for us.’
The intimate us made her hand tremble. Taking a deep breath, she described the first course. He picked up a piece of bruschetta, slid it into his mouth and chewed.
The process of watching him eat something she’d made with her two hands was so strangely unsettling and erotic her fingers clenched on her napkin.
‘Hmm, good enough.’ He picked up another piece and popped it in his mouth.
When she found herself staring at his strong jaw and throat, she averted her gaze, picked up a piece and nibbled on the edge. ‘Damned with faint praise.’
‘The cracked pepper adds a zing. I like it.’
Heady pleasure flowed through her. ‘Really?’
‘I always mean what I say, Ruby.’ His grave tone told her they weren’t talking about just food.
‘O...okay,’ she answered. ‘I have to check on the parmigiana in ten minutes.’
‘That’s more than enough time for a drink.’
Abandoning her half-eaten bruschetta, Ruby headed for the extensive bar, only to stop dead.
‘We’re no longer moored?’ The bright lights of the marina had disappeared, leaving only the stunning dark orange of the setting sun as their backdrop.
‘No, we’re sailing along the coast. Tomorrow morning, I intend to dive the Blue Hole. Do you dive?’ he asked.
She continued to the bar, her nerves jumpier than they had been a minute ago. ‘I did, a long time ago.’
‘Good. You’ll join me.’