NINE
Where he’d gone wrong last time, thought Rafael, sitting at the desk in his study in his penthouse and twirling a pen between his fingers, was in believing that he could ignore someone whose presence was so tangible even when she physically wasn’t.
That was why he hadn’t been able to get Nicky out of his head the weekend he’d been at the
cortijo
, he realised now, despite spending such relatively little time in her company. That was why she’d occupied his thoughts while he’d been out there in the fields, why she’d invaded his dreams, and why he’d imagined he could smell her scent even though she’d been nowhere to be seen. It was never easy to ignore a guest, however out of sight, and he’d been nuts to assume that it would be.
Distance was what he’d needed in order to wipe Nicky and the temporary but devastating havoc she’d wreaked on his well-ordered life from his mind. Distance and time. Both of which he’d had plenty of lately.
The two weeks he’d been back in Madrid had been exactly what was required to restore calm to his life, harness his self-control and rebuild the defences she’d so swiftly and comprehensively destroyed. And just what he’d needed to finally relax.
With pretty much the whole of the country shutting down in August and almost every Madrileño beetling off to the coast or the countryside, Rafael had figured the solitude would suit him perfectly, and had stayed put.
He could easily hang out here, he’d told himself. His flat was at the top of one of the most luxurious buildings in Madrid, and had all the trappings one would expect from a penthouse, so it hadn’t exactly been a hardship.
He’d spent hours poring over his beloved first edition of John Gerard’s
The Herball or Generall Historie of Plantes
,
and pottering around his extensive and plant-stuffed roof terrace. He’d ploughed up and down the building’s lavish outdoor pool and had frequented the gym. He’d been out a couple of times with the few friends who had stayed in the city, and in between all that he’d started to research his next job.
From Nicky he thankfully hadn’t heard a word. Nor had he heard from any of the other women who’d been so hell-bent on upsetting his existence. Apart from a text from Elisa informing him that she was on the Costa Brava should he feel like joining her—which he didn’t—she too had been mercifully quiet. Even his family appeared to have better things to do than hassle him, and had left him alone.
Which all bode extremely well for the long sabbatical from women he’d decided to take in the wake of everything that had happened recently.
He glowered at his laptop and his mood darkened as he reminded himself exactly how dangerous Nicky, in particular, was. The others might be thorns in his side, but she was the one who turned him into someone he didn’t recognise and didn’t want to be. Someone who’d unravelled so quickly and comprehensively that he hadn’t given even the most fleeting consideration to the values with which he conducted his relationships.
Because not only wasn’t she too well—as his sister had so brutally informed him—but Nicky was also a friend of Gaby’s, and how that fact had managed to elude him at the time he had no idea.
Rafael’s blood chilled as he thought about the far too close a shave he’d had. OK, so at some point during that weekend he’d evidently lost his mind, but how on earth could he have so
totally
forgotten his vow to not get involved with any friend of his sisters? It truly beggared belief.
Hadn’t he learned the hard way that down that route lay disaster? Hadn’t his brief, disastrous marriage proved it? And hadn’t he sworn that he’d never let it happen again? He’d nearly lost one sister over the whole sorry episode and he had no intention of losing another. Ever.
Rafael had never imagined being
pleased
to have been rejected, but time and time again over the last fortnight he’d thanked God Nicky hadn’t been interested in him, because if she had, and things had gone beyond one brief kiss, who knew what kind of chaos that might have caused?
But it was fine, he thought, letting out a long slow breath of relief. He’d escaped. Narrowly, but who cared? Narrowly was good enough.
Whatever had been going on in his head that weekend, and frankly it made him shudder to think about it, it was over. It had been a blip. A one-off moment of weakness, and ultimately entirely forgettable.
As was Nicky.
* * *
Now she was actually here Nicky wasn’t at all sure that she’d done the right thing by coming. Yesterday afternoon, when, filled with delight and relief that she was more or less back to her old self, she’d made a plan that involved jumping on a train bound for Madrid this morning, it had felt like the most sensible, the most
right
decision she’d ever taken.
But now she was standing at Rafael’s front door, her finger poised at the bell, and all the bubbling self-confidence and heart-pounding adrenalin were draining away leaving nothing but an unfamiliar bundle of nerves twisting her stomach.
Because what if he wasn’t in? What if, despite Gaby’s claim to the contrary, he was away at the coast as everyone else seemed to be? What if her mad dash to Madrid hadn’t been the best decision she’d ever made but stupidly and uncharacteristically reckless and completely in vain?
Oh, this was ridiculous, she thought, frowning at a knot in the wood of the front door and giving herself a mental slap. She’d gone to great lengths to get here, starting with wangling Rafael’s address out of Gaby on the very flimsy pretext of needing to forward some post, then facing the daunting prospect of a crowded station, and she was not going to give up this opportunity to find out whether her disturbingly long period of sexual abstinence could be at an end.
She’d had enough of being a wimp at the mercy of her hangups, and, besides, what was the worst that could happen? That he didn’t answer? Or that he did, and slammed the door in her face?
Telling herself that she’d cross those bridges if and when she came to them Nicky took a deep breath, pressed the bell and waited.
As the seconds ticked by with agonising slowness she ran a hand through her hair and nibbled on her lip. Shifted her weight from one foot to the other and fiddled unnecessarily with the zip of her handbag until the jitteriness bouncing inside her got so bad her knees started trembling.
Honestly, what
was
the matter with her? She never used to get this nervous, so why now? Briefly closing her eyes and telling herself to calm down, she took a series of deep measured breaths until her pulse slowed and the pressure inside her eased.
Just in time, she thought, hearing the sound of footsteps approaching on the other side of the door and feeling a flood of relief wash over her at the realisation that at least
someone
was home and her journey hadn’t been entirely in vain.
Nicky opened her eyes as whoever it was—and she fervently hoped it was Rafael—stopped at the door, and, during the pause in which he presumably checked her out through the spyhole, she fixed her sunniest smile to her face and gave him a little wave.
Neither of which he appeared to appreciate, judging by the brief but heartfelt burst of Spanish that hit the door. She winced and dropped her hand to her side, and then jumped at the thud that sounded like either a fist or a head being thumped against the door.
Oh, dear. That didn’t sound too promising, did it? In fact that sounded as if he wasn’t pleased to see her at all. But that was fine. She had a plan, and she wasn’t about to back out of it just because he might not be cooperative. In fact she couldn’t wait to put it into action.
If only he’d open the damned door and let her in.
As the seconds continued to roll by and she found herself
still
face to face with a great flat lump of solid oak, Nicky was contemplating cupping her hands to the door and demanding he let her in when there came a muffled sigh, the latch clicked, the door swung open and there he was, towering over her, tall and broad, his face and his eyes utterly inscrutable.
But, at that particular moment, whether or not Rafael was pleased to see her didn’t seem to matter, because as she looked up into his face and then straight into his eyes a great thump of desire thwacked her right in the stomach and nearly wiped out her knees.
The memory of him kissing her, his big, hard body wrapped around hers, flew into her head, making her pulse race and her breathing go haywire. As he thrust one hand into the pocket of his shorts she glanced at the other one resting on the door frame and had a sudden vision of his hands running over her sun-warmed skin. Heat wound through her and pooled in the pit of her stomach and she went dizzy.
God, if she’d needed any confirmation that her sex drive was back she had it. It was back with such a vengeance it was kind of mind-blowing to think that at one point she hadn’t been interested in him at all.
Taking a deep breath before she started hyperventilating and melted into a puddle of lust, Nicky blinked to dispel the images and swallowed hard. ‘Hi,’ she said a lot more breathily than she’d have liked.
‘Nicky,’ he said flatly.
‘Rafael,’ she said, choosing to ignore the distinct lack of enthusiasm in his voice and giving him a beaming smile. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine.’
‘Can I come in?’
He frowned. Hesitated for a moment, and she had the sudden disconcerting feeling he was going to slam the door in her face. But then the frown disappeared, that oddly sexy aloofness returned and as he held it back instead her stomach settled. ‘Of course.’
‘Thank you.’
She stepped inside, taking great care to fleetingly and subtly brush against him, and felt a dizzying little dart of satisfaction when he flinched. Excellent. Rafael might be trying to project an air of studied indifference and supreme self-control, but chemistry didn’t seem to be going along with it any more than she was. Which was lucky because her plans for the afternoon relied heavily on chemistry.
‘How did you know where to find me?’ he said, closing the door behind her and sounding as if he wished she hadn’t.
‘Gaby gave me your address.’
‘I didn’t hear the buzzer.’
‘I didn’t ring it.’
‘So who let you in?’
‘A fellow resident.’ She didn’t see any need to mention that, not at all sure he’d want to see her, she’d abandoned the buzzer in favour of hovering outside, waiting for someone to go into the building and slipping in behind them. ‘From downstairs, apparently. He was charming.’
‘I’m sure he was.’
‘He spoke flawless English.’
‘How convenient.’
‘Wasn’t it?’
Rafael folded his arms over his chest, leaned back against the console table and fixed her with that unwavering stare that before had made her squirm with discomfort and now made her squirm with something else entirely. ‘So how have you been?’
‘Fabulous,’ she said as longing spread through her veins as slow and thick and delicious as treacle.
Languidly and thoroughly he ran his gaze over her, from the hair on her head right down to her pink toenails, and as she endured his scrutiny every inch of her in between burned. By the time he’d finished making his way back up she was shaking inside with the effort of not hurling herself at him.
‘You certainly look fab—’ He broke off. Frowned. Swore probably, she thought, beneath his breath. ‘Well,’ he finished.
‘Thank you,’ she said and reminded herself that there’d be no hurling of anyone anywhere yet because she needed to concentrate. ‘I feel well.’
‘Would you like a drink?’ he said, pushing himself off the console table and striding off in the direction of the kitchen.
‘Anything soft and cold would be great,’ she said and followed him despite the lack of invitation. ‘It’s hot, isn’t it?’
He walked over to the fridge and took out a jug of orange juice and she took the opportunity to ogle his bottom. ‘Very,’ he muttered, and she got the delightful feeling he wasn’t just referring to the temperature.
As Rafael plucked a couple of glasses from the cupboard next to the fridge and poured the juice Nicky watched the muscles of his back twist beneath the cotton of his T-shirt and her palms itched with the need to touch him.
He turned abruptly and handed her a glass.
‘Thank you,’ she said, taking it, lifting it to her mouth and taking a long swallow. Skin-pricklingly aware that his eyes were on her, she ran her hand down her throat as she did so. ‘Yum, delicious.’
Rafael didn’t move but she thought she caught the tell-tale hammering of a muscle in his jaw, and smiled.
‘So this is a nice place,’ she said, turning slightly to look around his apartment and deciding that actually nice was way too bland a word for the incredible vision that met her eyes.
It was open plan, the kitchen partly cut off by a wide breakfast bar giving way to a dining area, which then flowed into a vast and comfortable-looking sitting room containing a wide deep sofa, several well-worn armchairs and a coffee table piled high with magazines.
Bookshelves lined the far wall and sagged beneath the weight of the dozens of books that were stacked upon them. Light spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows filling the room with light and shadows. Plants sat on every horizontal surface and art hung on every vertical one.
It was the sort of flat a girl could get very cosy in, thought Nicky, if that was her intention, which in
her
case, of course, it wasn’t.
‘I like it,’ he said abruptly.
‘You like plants,’ she observed.
‘I do.’
‘It’s spacious,’ she murmured and wondered where his bedroom was. ‘Light. Airy.’
‘And remarkably close to my office,’ he said dryly.
‘How handy.’
‘Isn’t it?’
And that seemed to be that for small talk, Nicky realised as she swung her gaze back to him and they lapsed into a tense little silence.
The seconds ticked by and Rafael just stood there looking at her with those penetrating green eyes and that unfathomable expression, barely moving a muscle, and she just stood there helplessly staring back, the tension inside her winding tighter and tighter as the heat flowing though her picked up speed and intensity.