‘I’m sure you’re quite capable of doing most things yourself, Cairo, but my father brought me up to be a Spanish gentleman. And carrying a lady’s bags for her is one of the things a Spanish gentleman does.’
Cairo wasn’t fooled for a moment by this explanation; Rafe had been determined to wangle an invitation into her flat from the start. She just wasn’t sure why….
‘Very well.’ She sighed heavily. ‘Would you care for a glass of wine, Rafe?’
‘How kind of you to offer, Cairo,’ he accepted sarcastically, before stepping past her into the sitting-room.
Leaving Cairo no choice but to follow him! ‘Red or white?’ she offered, more than a touch disgruntled.
‘Red would be fine, thanks. Have you lived here for very long?’ he asked as he made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs.
‘Six months or so,’ Cairo answered distractedly as she took a bottle of red wine from the rack and uncorked it before pouring some of the wine into two glasses. ‘Here.’ She thrust one under Rafe’s nose.
Blue eyes glinted with mockery as he looked up at her before taking the glass, his fingers lightly brushing against hers as he did so….
Cairo made no effort to sit down herself but instead walked over to look out of the window high above the London skyline as she slowly sipped her own wine, all the time aware of that intense blue gaze on the rigidity of her back.
‘For goodness’ sake, relax, Cairo.’ Rafe finally sighed into the tense silence.
How was she supposed to do that when Rafe was in her flat?
This was her space, the first place she could completely call her own for over eight years. And Rafe’s presence was a definite intrusion on that solitude.
‘Nice view.’
Cairo almost dropped her glass of wine at the close proximity of Rafe’s voice, turning to glare at him as he stood beside her, his tread having been so soft on the carpet she hadn’t realized he had joined her in front of the window. ‘I like it,’ she snapped irritably.
‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be drinking on a relatively empty stomach,’ Rafe commented; Cairo hadn’t eaten any breakfast at all, and only a sandwich for lunch.
‘The wine was your idea—’
‘For you to offer me a glass,’ he corrected. ‘You know what happens if you drink wine and you haven’t had enough to eat,’ he reminded her huskily.
‘I know what happened once, Rafe. Just once,’ she reiterated firmly, the blush on her cheeks telling him she remembered the incident only too well.
‘Hmm.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ she challenged.
Rafe had forgotten what fun it was to tease Cairo. How she got that light of battle in her eyes. The angry blush to her cheeks. Her mouth set in that stubborn line.
He took the remaining half-glass of wine from her fingers and placed it on a bookshelf with his own. ‘Come out to dinner with me tonight, Cairo,’ he invited gruffly.
She blinked up at him uncertainly. ‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’ she breathed huskily, but with much less conviction in her voice.
Rafe held her gaze with his as he gave her a quizzical smile. ‘Because I’m a stranger in town—’
‘You’re Rafe Montero—you could ask any woman to have dinner with you and she would drop anything else she had planned just to be there!’
‘The one I’m asking right now doesn’t have anything else planned—and yet she’s refusing.’
‘Rafe—’
‘Cairo?’
‘You really are—’ She broke off frustratedly. ‘Why do you want me to have dinner with you?’
He shrugged. ‘Because we both have to eat this evening and we may as well do it together.’
She shook her head. ‘If you think, because of what happened last night, that I’m going to sleep with you later, then—’
‘Cairo, the invitation was for dinner, not bed,’ he cut in firmly.
‘Yes …’ She eyed him suspiciously.
‘Although I doubt I would be averse to the idea later on if you were to—’
‘I won’t!’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Then I guess I’ll settle for dinner.’
She sighed. ‘Okay, Rafe, I’ll come out to dinner with you. But only,’ she continued as he would have smiled, ‘if you promise me never to mention that embarrassing incident with the wine ever again.’
‘You mean, the incident where you threw off all your clothes and—’
‘Yes—that incident!’ she glared.
‘Fine.’ It was difficult for Rafe to hold the smile back this time. ‘I promise I’ll never—ever—mention that night we had dinner in my hotel room eight years ago and you stripped off and tipped cream all over your—well, all over you—and then offered yourself as dessert—’ He broke off, laughing now when Cairo began to pummel his chest with her fists, and was still grinning even as he held both her hands in his. ‘It was the best dessert I ever had,’ he told her throatily.
It was very hard to remain annoyed with him when he gave her that heart-melting smile, Cairo thought in despair. Especially when she also remembered the night in question—how could she ever forget it? It was the most wildly erotic night….
Which meant it also wasn’t a good idea to let Rafe continue to hold her hands in his. Or to look into those sky-blue eyes that seduced her with only a glance. Or to allow him to draw her, slowly, purposefully, towards him—
‘No, Rafe!’ She broke that seductive spell as she straightened away from him, pulling her hands out of his grasp as she did so. ‘I said dinner and I meant just dinner!’
‘Pity,’ he murmured lazily.
She gave him a reproving look. ‘If you would like to sit here and finish your wine, I just need to go to my room to freshen up before we go out.’
Although she’d agreed to the lesser of two evils—going out to a restaurant with Rafe rather than having him stay on here—it still wasn’t a good idea, Cairo told herself as she shut her bedroom door firmly behind her and leant back against it.
What game was Rafe playing now?
Whatever it was, she couldn’t allow it to continue!
‘How on earth did you manage to get a table here at such short notice— No, don’t tell me.’ Cairo gave a wry smile. ‘You’re Rafe Montero.’
Rafe studied her across the table in what was a very exclusive London restaurant. ‘I really wish you wouldn’t say my name as if it’s some sort of expletive,’ he drawled ruefully. ‘Besides,’ he continued lightly, ‘there has to be some compensation to losing every vestige of your privacy just because you chose acting as a career.’
Cairo gave him a considering look, coolly beautiful in the green figure-hugging, knee-length dress she had changed into after freshening-up, her red hair long and silky. ‘I never realized it bothered you.’
He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t a problem when we were on the Isle of Man. Since the film studio opened up there in the late nineties the islanders have become used to celebrities walking down Strand Street, and they pretty well take it in their stride. Most other places it can be a problem, though. That’s the reason exclusive restaurants like this one are so popular with people like you and me. Everyone’s a celebrity, so no one stares.’
No, Cairo acknowledged, no one was staring. Now. But the two of them had caused quite a stir when they’d arrived together half an hour ago, probably because of all the publicity about them in the English newspapers this morning….
Rafe gave her a quizzical glance. ‘Do you ever regret becoming so well known?’
Did she? She could quite well have done without all the publicity that had surrounded her separation and divorce the last ten months. But otherwise …? No, probably not.
‘It goes with the job, I suppose,’ she said, before taking a sip of the pink champagne Rafe had ordered. A drink he had first introduced her to on the Isle of Man …
‘And do you enjoy the job as much as you thought you would?’
/>
‘Sorry?’ It was impossible for Cairo to miss the slight edge that had entered his tone.
Rafe shrugged. ‘When you were twenty, you were pretty determined to make a name for yourself. At any price, apparently,’ he added bitterly.
She put her champagne glass carefully back down on the table. ‘Rafe, if you’re going to start being insulting again, then I shall have to leave.’
‘I’ve always assumed your ambition was the reason you married Bond so quickly and moved to the States with him.’ He sat back in his chair, his gaze hooded as he looked across the table at her. ‘Although I still have no idea why you agreed to talk to him when he came to the villa …’ he added speculatively.
Cairo’s mouth tightened. ‘Rafe, you either desist in pursuing this subject or I will leave!’
‘I’m just interested, Cairo,’ he said. ‘After all, we have to talk about something while we eat,’ he added lightly as their first course was brought to the table.
Cairo waited until the waiter had left before answering Rafe. ‘I do not want to talk about Lionel. Not his visit to the villa yesterday or anything to do with my marriage and divorce.’ Unless Rafe wanted her to end up with indigestion! ‘Why don’t we discuss why it is you’ve never married, instead?’ she added challengingly as she picked up her fork and began to eat her prawns.
Rafe smiled. ‘I already told you, that’s much less interesting.’
‘Because you’ve never met the right woman,’ Cairo taunted. ‘And do you really believe that there’s a right woman or right man for everyone?’
‘Don’t you?’ Rafe had believed at one time that he had found the right woman for him. But, as it had turned out, he obviously hadn’t been the right man for her….
Cairo shook her head. ‘I think it’s probably wiser—safer—to opt to be with someone of a similar background, career and interests.’
‘Like you and Bond, you mean?’
Colour warmed her cheeks. ‘Rafe—’
‘Or you and me,’ he added softly.
No, not like her and Rafe! As Cairo had learnt to her cost, she and Rafe had ultimately had absolutely nothing in common. Except a physical awareness that Cairo could feel even now….
Because no matter how she might try to deny it—to ignore it!—last night had only increased her awareness of everything about Rafe, from the silky glossiness of his hair down to the slender elegance of his feet.
She put her fork back down on her plate, her appetite having completely deserted her. ‘No, not like you and me,’ she denied huskily. ‘I think it’s time that I left, Rafe—’
‘Run away, you mean?’ he bit out caustically.
Her eyes flashed darkly. ‘I’m not running away.’
‘Sure you are. It’s what you do—it’s what you’ve always done,’ he said grimly.
Her throat tightened painfully. ‘I should have known your earlier pleasantness wouldn’t last.’
‘Because you obviously prefer a man with no ba—’
‘How dare you?’ Cairo gasped.
‘How dare I?’ Rafe repeated harshly. ‘Oh, I think you’ll find that where you’re concerned I dare to do a lot of things— No, Cairo!’ He sat forward to place his hand firmly over hers as she went to pick up her evening bag from the table before leaving. ‘If you leave now, the headlines in tomorrow’s newspapers are going to read, “Cairo and Rafe split up after only two days together”.’
‘We’ve never been together—’
‘I remember a time when we were very together,’ he growled.
‘I—’
‘Don’t even think about denying what we once had, Cairo,’ he warned.
‘What I thought we had,’ she corrected tightly.
‘I thought we had it, too,’ he rasped. ‘You must have realized this last two days that I still want you—’
‘Rafe, please don’t—’
‘And you still want me,’ he added softly.
‘I most certainly do not!’ Her face blushed revealingly even as she spoke the lie. For how could Rafe ever doubt that she still wanted him after their lovemaking last night?
His mouth twisted humourlessly. ‘Don’t make me prove it, Cairo.’
The passionate heat in the blue of his eyes held her captive, the tension between them unbearable. She was barely breathing. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Was held in the glitter of that blue gaze like a fawn mesmerized by the headlights of an approaching car.
Because, amazingly, Rafe was approaching her! Completely unconcerned with their surroundings, and the other diners, he stood up, reached across the table and curved a hand beneath her chin to tilt her face up to his and place his mouth forcefully down on hers.
To claim.
To possess.
To totally steal Cairo’s breath away as she felt herself responding to the hard demand of Rafe’s mouth on hers.
Rafe’s eyes glittered with emotion when he finally raised his head to look down at her. ‘I want to sweep everything off this table before laying you down on it and—’ He broke off suddenly as they were surrounded by a soft round of appreciative applause, closing his eyes briefly before straightening to turn and give a brief, ironic bow to the diners who were smiling at the two of them indulgently. ‘Scrap that previous headline,’ he muttered as he resumed his seat. ‘“Cairo and Rafe can’t keep their hands off each other” would probably be more appropriate!’
Cairo was dumbstruck, totally stunned by the unexpectedness of Rafe’s kiss.
And by her own aching response….
Because for the time that Rafe’s mouth had possessed hers she had totally forgotten their surroundings, would probably have helped him sweep the plates and glasses from the table-top before pulling him down on it and making love with him!
‘How could you?’ she finally gasped shakily, a brief, embarrassed glance around the restaurant telling her that the other diners—having obviously enjoyed the show!—had now gone back to their own meals and conversation. ‘That was absolutely— Rafe, how could you?’ she said again.
It was more a question of how could he not, Rafe realised as he picked up his glass and took a much-needed swallow of the champagne. The challenge thrown down, he simply hadn’t been able to stop himself.
The problem was that Cairo made him forget everything else but her.
Being with her.
Making love with her.
And he still did want to make love with her—desperately; his body was hard and aching with that need right now. But one glance at Cairo’s pale, accusing face told him that was as likely to happen, following that very public display, as snow in August!
Although surely it had to snow somewhere in the world in August….
His mouth twisted into a humourless smile. ‘Perhaps we should just put it down to your own fatalistic allure.’
Cairo glared at him. ‘And perhaps we should just put it down to your need to humiliate me!’
Rafe winced. ‘Cairo—’
‘Don’t bother trying to deny it, Rafe, because you know that’s exactly what you did.’ She picked up her bag, her face flushed with anger now, and her eyes glittering darkly. ‘I think we’ll just stick with the original headline, hmm?’ With one last fiercely scathing glance she stood up and left the table, her head held high as she made her way through the restaurant to where the maître d’ held the door open for her leave.
Well, that certainly went well, Rafe, he congratulated himself dourly as he threw the rest of the champagne in his glass to the back of his throat before refilling it. The chances of Cairo now letting him anywhere near her again, let alone making love with her, were once more as likely as that snow in August!
Not good enough odds, Rafe decided as he threw some money down on the table to pay for their meal before following Cairo, his expression grim.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RAFE caught up with Cairo as she stood on the pavement outside trying to flag down an available cab, something apparently not that easy to
find since the new regulation banning the use of private cars from the inner city roads had increased the demand.
‘Would it help if I apologized?’
Cairo glanced round sharply at the sound of Rafe’s voice behind her, then glared at him in the semi-darkness. ‘Not in the least,’ she informed him coldly, before turning back to look for a taxi with its light on, at the same time completely aware of the fact that Rafe had moved to stand beside her.
‘Cairo, at least let me drive you home—’
‘And give you the chance to humiliate me yet again?’ she snapped. ‘I’d rather walk!’ She began to do exactly that.
Rafe fell into step beside her. ‘Cairo, you still haven’t had hardly anything to eat—’
‘And whose fault is that?’ she accused as she came to an abrupt halt, positively bristling with anger at him. ‘I went out to dinner with you in the first place completely against my better judgement—and look how right my reservations proved to be!’ She gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘Just face it, Rafe, you and I have absolutely nothing left to say to each other.’
Rafe totally disagreed; the amount of things they had never said to each other would fill a football stadium!
He drew in a ragged breath. ‘We used to be able to communicate without words—’
‘Is that what all this is about, Rafe?’ she challenged. ‘If all you want is to go to bed with me again, then why don’t you just say so?’ Her breasts quickly rose and fell in her agitation.
Because it wasn’t all he wanted, dammit! But quite what he did want Rafe wasn’t sure of, either—yet. The only thing he did know, now that he had spent time with Cairo again, was that he wasn’t willing to let another eight years pass before he saw or spoke to her again.
‘And if it is?’ he rasped.
She stared at him for several tense seconds. ‘Fine,’ she finally said. ‘Let’s go back to my flat and have sex, then, shall we?’ She turned back in the direction Rafe had parked the car.
Rafe stood unmoving, a frown creasing his brow.
He did want Cairo. He wanted to make slow, leisurely love to her again. But not like this. Never like this.
Hot Nights with a Spaniard (Mills & Boon M&B) (Mills & Boon Special Releases) Page 11