by Anne Mather
‘I’m sorry we disturbed you.’ Lily didn’t sound sympathetic and Rafe swore.
‘Oh, you disturbed me, Lily. But not in the way you seem to think. How do you think I felt, seeing you with that estupido? The man is a fool. You can do better than him.’
Lily gasped. ‘Who I choose to go out with isn’t your concern, Mr Oliveira. And why should you care anyway? As I’m just another...acquaintance.’
Rafe’s mouth compressed. ‘You heard that?’
‘Obviously.’
He scowled. ‘So what would you have had me say? That we were more than friends?’
‘We’re not even friends, Mr Oliveira.’ Lily bent her head and fumbled in her bag for her purse. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to buy a sandwich for my lunch.’
Rafe expelled a weary breath. ‘Lily, please. Do not treat me like a stranger. I realise I must have offended you, so let me make amends by buying you lunch.’
‘Again?’
‘Why not?’
‘No, thanks.’
Lily tried to shake him off, but this time he wouldn’t let her go. And, looking up into his dark impassioned face, she badly wanted to give in. ‘What about your guest?’ she protested, while her insides melted beneath his disturbing gaze. ‘You are neglecting her.’
‘Let Myers deal with her,’ retorted Rafe harshly, detecting her indecision. ‘Come! I know exactly the place for us to eat.’
* * *
Lily felt some trepidation when Rafe led the way to where he had parked his car. She had no idea he intended to drive to their destination.
‘I can’t be away long,’ she protested when he opened the passenger door and indicated that she should get inside. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Not far,’ said Rafe smoothly, coiling his length behind the wheel of the Lexus. ‘There is a café at a place called Coral Key that the locals and the divers use. I believe the food—seafood, of course—is very good.’
Lily was still doubtful, but Rafe had apparently taken her silence for acceptance. The Lexus’s powerful engine surged to life, and he drove smoothly out of the car parking area. He turned in the opposite direction from town, accelerating out onto the cliff road.
It wasn’t until they turned onto a track that bypassed the little fishing village of Coral Key that Lily’s reservations resurfaced.
‘This is the way to Orchid Point,’ she protested, giving him a horrified glance. ‘I’m not going to your house.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because...because it’s not appropriate.’ She paused. ‘Whatever you think of my father, he would definitely not approve.’
‘But did you not tell me you were capable of making your own decisions?’
‘I am.’ Lily realised he had her there. ‘But this isn’t my decision. I’d like you to take me back to town at once.’
Rafe sighed. ‘I just thought you might like to see what I have done with the house. And we can have a sandwich here without fear of interruption.’
They had reached the property now and the gates swung open at the press of a switch. The drive curved upward towards a white-painted villa with a pillared porch and a wraparound veranda, and Lily couldn’t help admiring its sprawling elegance.
There were flowers everywhere, she noticed, growing over the frames of the many garages, tumbling in exotic confusion from the balconies above the porch. Giant urns spilled their bounty onto the steps that led up to the entrance, storm shutters painted a dark green contrasting with the whiteness of the walls.
‘So,’ he said, bringing the SUV to a halt, ‘can I tempt you?’
Lily caught her breath, reluctantly getting out of the car. Did he know he tempted her already, his offer of lunch notwithstanding? Of course he did. Which was probably why he’d used that particular phrase.
‘To have lunch with you?’ she queried, and he gave a cynical nod as he alighted and walked round the car to meet her. ‘So, I hear you own the house,’ she said, needing to keep him at arm’s length and, with a weary sigh, he inclined his head again.
‘And you live here alone?’
‘Hardly alone,’ he replied drily. ‘I need staff to keep this place going. Come and meet my housekeeper, Carla Samuels. Perhaps she will assure you, you are perfectly safe with me?’
CHAPTER TEN
THEY ENTERED THE house through a glass-walled entry that gave onto a sunlit reception area. It was a huge space with an attractively tiled floor, and more flowers decorating a large circular table in the centre.
Lily’s eyes were immediately drawn to the stone staircase that wound to the upper gallery. She couldn’t help wondering which of the many rooms opening onto the landing was Rafe’s.
Across the hall a beautiful sitting room had a panoramic view of the bay. Once again, the room was generously proportioned, with several comfortable sofas and chairs in a warm bronze leather. The terrazzo tiled floor was scattered with Chinese rugs, and there were dark cabinets, filled with books and objets d’art, against the walls.
‘Carla will get us something to eat,’ said Rafe as Lily moved to where glass doors gave onto a shaded patio, and she glanced back in some alarm.
‘Oh, but—’
‘You do not want to be long,’ Rafe finished for her flatly. ‘I know. Just give me a minute, will you?’
He disappeared into the entrance hall again and Lily put her hand on the cool glass. Immediately, her damp palm caused the glass door to move slightly and, taking advantage of her host’s absence, she squeezed out onto the patio.
There was a pool here, adding colour to creamy tiles and a tracery of trellises. She could smell the mingled fragrances of oleander and jasmine, and even the heat seemed tempered by the breeze blowing off the sea.
A teak table set beneath a striped awning was laid with basket-weave place mats and a wine cooler. She noticed the cushions on the matching chairs blended with the colours of the canopy above her head.
Rafe came out of the house at that moment, sliding the door wide and startling her a little. ‘Shall we eat out here?’ he asked. ‘Carla’s just making us a salad.’ He moved further onto the patio, revealing the bottle he was carrying. ‘Will you have a glass of wine?’
Lily was reluctant, but it would have seemed churlish to refuse. ‘Just a little,’ she said and he turned back into the house, only to re-emerge moments later with two glasses.
Rafe set the glasses on the table and expertly extracted the cork from the bottle. ‘I think Chablis is the perfect accompaniment to a salad, don’t you?’
Lily pulled a wry face. ‘I wouldn’t know,’ she confessed honestly. ‘My father doesn’t drink alcohol and we never have wine in the house.’
Rafe nodded and, watching him, Lily wondered when she’d stopped thinking of him as Mr Oliveira. Somewhere between Mac’s Bar and here, she reflected ruefully. She hoped she wouldn’t regret it.
The woman who served their meal was small and plump and jolly. Rafe introduced her and she gave Lily a generous, if slightly curious, smile. ‘Try and persuade him to eat something, will you, Ms Fielding,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t eat at all when he’s on his own.’
‘That is an exaggeration,’ said Rafe tolerantly, and Carla pulled a face. They were obviously good friends as well as employer and employee.
‘Enjoy your lunch,’ she said, twitching a napkin in the basket of rolls she’d laid beside the dish of salad. Then, with another thoughtful look at Lily, she left them to it.
‘I suggest we help ourselves,’ said Rafe, adding a little more wine to his glass. ‘Is this all right for you?’
‘It’s amazing,’ she said, wondering how Carla could have produced such a delicious meal at short notice. A fresh lobster salad and warm crusty rolls with butter. What could be nicer?
Despite being aware that Rafe spent more time watching her than eating his food, Lily enjoyed the meal. She even drank two glasses of wine before putting her napkin aside and lying back in her chair, replete.
R
afe arched his dark brows enquiringly, and Lily gave a satisfied nod. Then, looking at his plate, ‘But you’ve hardly eaten a thing.’
‘I will eat later,’ said Rafe, though Lily had the feeling he probably wouldn’t.
‘You should,’ she said, regarding him with some concern, and Rafe gave a mocking smile.
‘Why should you care?’ he countered, and a hint of colour invaded her throat.
‘Tell me why you chose to come to Orchid Cay,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Why not—Jamaica or Barbados? One of the larger islands?’
Rafe shrugged. ‘I bought a house. This house. And some land.’ He pushed back his chair. ‘Come. There is something I would like you to see.’
Lily made a doubtful gesture. ‘I don’t really have time.’
But she couldn’t deny she was curious and when he said, ‘Five minutes,’ she gave in.
Despite his frown, she insisted on taking her handbag with her, ready for leaving. But, as they crossed the marble hall, a man emerged from the back of the house and came towards them.
He was tall and well-built in appearance, with greying dark hair and blue eyes, and a face that had evidently taken some knocks. But it was a kindly face and Lily thought how lucky Rafe was to have such pleasant people working for him.
If indeed the man was an employee.
It appeared he was.
‘Oh, hey, Mr Oliveira,’ he said, ‘do you have a minute?’
Rafe’s lips tightened. ‘Is it urgent?’
The man nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘Okay.’ Rafe turned to Lily. ‘This is my assistant, Steve Bellamy,’ he said. ‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’
‘Of course.’ Although Lily was unhappily aware that it was already approaching three o’clock. ‘Um...perhaps I could use the bathroom?’
Rafe showed her where the restroom opened off the lobby where they had first entered the house and then re-joined Steve, who was waiting in his study.
‘I thought you’d be interested to know who that guy was who was tailing you the other day,’ he said, a little smugly. ‘His name is Sawyer, and he’s employed by a detective agency in New York.’
‘New York?’ Rafe stared at him. ‘So do you know who employed him?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Steve nodded in satisfaction. ‘He was employed by a Mrs Frances.’
‘Mrs Frances? I don’t know anyone called Mrs Frances.’
‘Yeah, you do.’ Steve nodded again. ‘Didn’t you tell me that your ex was called Sarah Frances Hilton before you got married?’
* * *
The restroom was as elegantly equipped as the rest of the house. Lily used the facilities, pulled a face at her tangled hair and emerged to find Rafe waiting for her outside.
When he started up the stairs, Lily hesitated. Yet what did she expect him to do? she chided herself impatiently. He was hardly likely to be taking her to his bedroom to make mad passionate love to her.
However tantalising a scenario that might be.
‘Are you coming?’
Rafe was standing on the galleried landing looking down at her now, and Lily felt her awareness of him move up another notch. He needed a shave, she thought, her breath hitching. But the truth was, the hint of stubble on his jaw only added to his dark appeal.
‘The house is very Spanish, isn’t it?’ she said as she mounted the stairs, trying to distract herself.
‘I hesitate to remind you that I am half Spanish,’ he remarked drily as she reached the landing. ‘Do you like it? I designed some of the furnishings myself.’
‘It’s—beautiful.’ Lily looked about her, noticing the cream panelled walls and the tiny statues of the saints that occupied any available niche. She wrapped her arms about her midriff in an unknowingly protective gesture. ‘And you live here alone?’
Rafe’s lips twisted. ‘I do not have a mistress hidden in the basement, if that is what you mean,’ he responded. ‘Is that what you are hinting at?’
‘Perhaps.’ Lily was honest. Then, with some audacity, ‘You’re a very attractive—older—man.’
‘Ah. An older man, sí.’
She was right, but that didn’t stop his eyes from lingering on the dusky hint of cleavage visible in the neckline of her shirt.
‘I told you about my wife, did I not?’ He thought the irony of what Steve Bellamy had just relayed to him was pertinent. His lips twisted. ‘I am in no hurry to put another woman in her place.’
‘She was your first wife?’
‘My only wife,’ Rafe agreed, deciding this was getting far too heavy. He indicated the corridor that led off to their left. ‘Vene, niña! We are wasting time.’
Despite some lingering misgivings, Lily followed Rafe along a wide arched corridor where louvred windows were pushed wide to the warm air outside. She could smell the flowers, see the branches of a jacaranda swaying in the languid breeze and hear the sound of the waves as they broke on the rocks below.
‘You evidently don’t mind the heat,’ said Lily, indicating the open windows, and Rafe gave her a lazy grin.
‘When I was a boy, staying with my grandfather in Havana, I ran around naked half the time. There was no air conditioning in my grandfather’s house.’
It was an image Lily chose not to linger on, and she was almost relieved when they reached the double doors that marked the end of the corridor. Rafe pushed both doors open, and then allowed her to precede him into the room beyond.
Lily’s first uneasy thought was that it was a bedroom. Rafe’s bedroom, perhaps, judging by the distinctly masculine coverlet on the huge bed and the sombrely painted wall behind it.
The heavy furniture too spoke of a man’s influence, a polished wood tallboy and the inlaid marquetry of a square desk revealing its dual usage.
But, almost immediately, her eyes were drawn to the windows that curved round three sides of the apartment. And the view from those long windows was stunning, taking in at least half the island’s coastline in an impressive sweep.
‘Oh, my God!’ she whispered and, although her first steps had been tentative, now Lily hurried across the room to stare incredulously at the curve of the bay.
To her left, she could see the roofs of Coral Key while, to her right, the cliffs overlooking the bay where she and her father lived were visible. Further out, the end of a rocky promontory shimmered in the haze.
‘Amazing view, is it not?’ murmured Rafe, giving in to the urge to stand beside her and share her enjoyment. It pleased him that she had known at once why he had brought her here.
‘It’s fantastic,’ she agreed, suddenly aware that he had closed the door and that his bare arm was only inches from hers. Goosebumps prickled over her as his insistent gaze burned her skin. He wanted her to look at him, she knew, and it was almost impossible to resist.
But, to her relief, he turned aside and opened sliding windows onto a balcony. Filmy white curtains billowed as he stepped outside and went to rest his hands on the wrought iron rail.
She badly wanted to join him, to feel again the thrill of awareness she’d felt when he’d been standing beside her. But, glancing at the bed behind her, she was afraid she knew exactly where that might lead.
Instead, she moved away from the windows, taking in the appointments of the room with interested eyes. There was a switch beside the bed marked ‘TV’ and, seeing that Rafe was still on the balcony, Lily couldn’t resist experimenting.
To her amazement, a huge screen rose from the baseboard at the foot of the bed and then disappeared again at the flick of another switch. Amazing!
‘Having fun?’ enquired her host and Lily realised that while she’d been watching the television screen returning to its resting place, Rafe had come in from the balcony and was watching her.
‘I was curious,’ she admitted. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Well, I can think of other uses for that bed,’ Rafe remarked only half humorously, and then despised himself for allowing his libido to govern his words.
; Lily was suddenly out of breath and not thinking very clearly, which was why her, ‘I suppose I can think of other things too,’ wasn’t quite inaudible enough.
‘Can you?’ Rafe was nearer than she’d thought, the raw masculine scent of his body enveloping her in a sensual haze. ‘So tell me,’ he invited, not altogether sensibly, ‘what did you have in mind?’
‘Oh—’ Lily struggled for air. ‘You know: rest, sleep, stuff like that,’ she muttered, not very convincingly.
‘Is that all?’ Rafe’s tone was husky. She flinched instinctively when he put out his hand and wound a strand of her sun-streaked hair around his finger. ‘I do not believe you when you tell me that all you can think of doing in this bed is resting or sleeping. Unless you have no imagination at all.’
Lily was stung by his gentle mockery. ‘Of course I have an imagination,’ she said, though it was hard to stay focused when just being this close to him was causing feathery shivers to attack her spine. ‘I’m not stupid, Mr Oliveira. But...sex isn’t a usual part of my vocabulary.’
‘Whereas it is mine?’ suggested Rafe, his tone hardening.
‘I didn’t say that.’ Lily made a half-hearted attempt to use both hands to smooth her hair against her nape and then abandoned the effort. She shifted uneasily. ‘It’s awfully warm in here, isn’t it?’
Rafe regarded her without sympathy. ‘No warmer now than it was before.’ He scowled. ‘Are you afraid of being here alone with me?’
‘Yes. No!’ Lily shook her head helplessly. ‘This is silly.’ She cast a look up at him, half threatened by his anger. ‘Oh, God, I don’t know what you want me to say.’
‘I suppose what I wanted you to say was that you were thinking of making love with me rather than resting and sleeping,’ he remarked tersely, and then instantly regretted his words.
He’d sworn not to get involved with her, with anyone. Yet here he was, having brought a young—desirable—woman to his home, blaming her for his own uncontrollable attraction.
He moved abruptly away, sweeping back his own hair with an impatient hand. ‘Lo siento. I’m sorry,’ he added with blatant self-mockery. ‘I regret my imagination is far too acute.’