‘Smile to the nice paparazzi,’ Coco
chanted under her breath as she stepped from the limousine.
Dressed in a black sheath of butter soft suede showcasing endless legs she teetered on mile high Miu Miu heels. Slinging the matching bag over her arm Coco kept a firm grip of Jezebel.
Tonight was the last time she’d attend an event like this.
A team of Monroe Industries’ protection officers - dressed in black suits by Armani and built like tanks - linked arms pushing the press behind security cordons.
These days spectators bothered her, a lot.
Her heart beat an unsteady tattoo against her ribs.
And her stomach was beginning to burn.
She could do this.
Openings like this always drew vast crowds with their smart phones stretched out. They were desperate happy snappers, straining against the security team, greedy to get close to a celebrity. Her eyes scanned the motley crew gathered before her. Among them young couples, wide-eyed wannabes and a scattering of the homeless.
She knew better than to take a single step until security cleared a path.
Cameras flashed relentlessly.
Her heart beat faster.
Lifting her chin Coco flicked her hair, readied herself for the onslaught and stepped forward.
Insults and expletives flew from the ranks; she was too thin, too fat, were the rumours true she was pregnant?
The last comment almost made her snort out a laugh.
But Coco was a pro.
Keeping her features unconcerned she slid on a pair of sunglasses and a tiny pair with loose elastic over her little dog’s head.
The press pack howled with laughter, happy they’d got the money shot. The words hurled now were far better natured.
One photographer yelled, ‘Thanks, darlin, good to see you back. Looking gorgeous tonight.’
Turning to look over her shoulder, Coco flipped up her glasses and stared through her bangs straight into his camera lens.
The camera flashes made her blink too rapidly.
Taking a shaky breath, sensory overload pumped blood faster through her system.
A skinny worm of perspiration slid between her shoulder blades.
Oh God.
And she’d forgotten her pills.
The way her heart was hammering in her ears made her breathe slow and steady through her nose just as she’d been taught.
Her palms were damp now and she struggled not to wipe a hand down the side of her dress. Which would be a dead give away to one of the body language experts in celebrity land.
After the day she’d had, a measly panic attack was a small price to pay. Yes, she’d taken a risk. But the worst was over and she found she could not regret her part in helping a woman and child in desperate need.
There was a rule in the universe known as
Sod’s Law
that life never threw you one curve if it could throw you five. Thanks to Coco and Louise, Olivia Kandinsky and her baby boy had escaped from her wealthy and abusive husband. Not once did Coco consider aborting the plan, but she’d heard nothing from Louise since late afternoon and anxiety lay like the rock of Gibraltar in her stomach.
Of course nothing could have gone wrong, they’d covered every eventuality.
But if past experience had taught her anything it was the little things that caught you out every single time.
Her mind raced through the possibilities and probabilities, while her heart drummed in her ears.
Unease slid into her belly to keep anxiety company.
No call, no texts.
Behind dark glasses Coco’s gaze scanned the jostling bodies at the entrance to the club.
Where the hell was she?
A high whistle caught her attention.
Louise leapt out of a taxi.
Wearing a bodycon dress of candy pink with neutral heels, she ducked under the cordon and with quick sure steps skipped to her side.
Her green eyes sparkled into Coco’s.
‘Phew, just made it,’ she said, and leaned over to whisper in her ear. ‘All’s well.’
Blinking away the hot sting of relief from her eyes, Coco told herself to get a grip on her fragile emotions.
‘I’ve been worried sick.’
She handed her friend Jezebel and her purse.
‘It went like clockwork,’ Louise muttered, pressing a kiss on the pug’s nose.
‘Let me take those glasses off the poor thing. She’s been such a good girl,’ Coco crooned, and took a steadying breath as she turned to the entrance of the club and the press. ‘Duty calls.’
Now anxiety wasn’t tying her up in knots, she slid right back into her role as the celebrity pin-up girl as if she’d never had six months out of the limelight.
Louise kept a few paces behind as Coco did her bit with the TV crews.
Mulberry designed the dress and no, the shoes were not Jimmy’s. She was very excited to open The Blue Lagoon Two and knew it would be yet another success for her brother.
Strutting her stuff into the club, she pressed the flesh for an hour, smiled for the official photographer. With a glass of champagne held high, she beamed into the camera and pretended to take a sip.
Rule number one in the Charles Monroe handbook, no alcohol on duty.
At last, they found a quiet corner and Coco spun around.
‘How are they?’
Louise grinned. ‘All tucked up safe and sound. He’s got to be the world’s sweetest baby. Olivia relaxed once she realised Samson was staying with them.’
A heady sense of relief tore through Coco’s system as they clung to each other.
‘I’m shaking like a leaf.’ With her teeth chattering in nervous reaction, she stared at Louise. ‘Why didn’t you text?’
Shaking her head, her friend tugged on an ecstatic Jezebel’s velvety ear.
‘No electronic trail, remember? But if we get caught...’
‘We won’t. No one knows we had anything to do with it,’ Coco told her with absolute certainty.
‘Samson’s organised protection for you, he said...’ Louise paused, and her eyes went wide as she looked over Coco’s shoulder. ‘Hell’s bells, what’s
he
doing here?’
Coco turned to look, spun back.
‘Jeez, if it’s not one thing then it’s another.’ Bending her knees she grabbed her friend’s hand, dragging her behind a pillar. ‘You keep Jezebel. I’m getting out of here.’
She turned to flee and Louise pulled her back.
‘How do you know he’s looking for you?’
Coco peeked over her friend’s shoulder keeping a beady eye on the man at the entrance.
‘When it comes to him I have extra sensory perception.’
For some reason Rafe appeared taller, the colossal shoulders wider, his big body all hard muscle with not an ounce of fat on him.
Dark eyes filled with a sharp intelligence expertly scanned the room.
Tonight he wore one of his trademark bespoke suits, which meant he was here on business.
He looked exactly what he was, dark, dangerous and a man on a mission.
Bugger.
The nerves in Coco’s stomach gathered themselves for a leap into her throat.
Just looking at him caught her breath and seemed to squeeze her lungs.
Then she noticed her friend was giving her a hard stare.
‘What?’ Coco demanded. ‘It was just a little kiss. I’m only human and it meant nothing.’
And her conscience gave her a sharp jab in the ribs at the lie.
Okay, one kiss might have rocked her world but that didn’t mean she was going to act on it. He’d eat her alive and suck the marrow out of her bones.
Now Louise gave her a look that told her she was being pathetic.
‘If it meant nothing then why are you running?’ she wanted to know. ‘I thought we agreed he’s toxic for you?’
‘I know, I know. But I’ve never kissed him with tongues before.’
‘Yeah. You’ve never slapped him before either.’
Knowing full well she hadn’t given Louise even the half of what had gone on in Rafe’s hotel room, Coco gave her big eyes.
‘I just lost it. Years of pent-up angsty stuff.’
‘You should’ve answered his voice messages, the texts.’
‘I’ve too much going on.’
‘You’re a yellow livered coward,’ Louise told her in a severe voice.
‘This is very true,’ Coco agreed sweetly.
‘You’re going to have to deal with him.’
‘I know, but timing is everything.’
‘And you’re too pale. Gotta headache?’
Actually her head was pounding. ‘Just a little one.’
‘Take a tablet,’ Louise advised her in no nonsense tone. When Coco made a face, her eyes went wide. ‘You’ve forgotten your pills?’
‘I hate taking medication. I’ll be fine when I get home, have a hot bath and relax.’
‘You need a damned keeper, Monroe.’
‘I’ll talk to Rafe tomorrow, promise.’
A woman needed to be on top of her game to tangle with Mr Cavendish.
She simply couldn’t cope with how he made her feel. As soon as he’d touched her she’d gone up in flames. And she was damned if it would happen again. No way was she up to dealing with him tonight, or any other night for that matter.
Coco spun around.
Even in heels she moved fast, legging it through the crowd gyrating on the dance floor.
Louise reckoned she was behaving like a coward.
Fair comment Coco decided with absolutely no shame.
When it came to Rafe she was more than happy to be a big fat coward.
Waving to the bartender, she ducked behind the bar and slid through the kitchen.
With a grunt she shoved open a heavy door used for deliveries.
It led to a badly lit side alley.
Coco peered out.
A doorman on his break puffed a cigarette and got such a shock he almost swallowed it.
‘Hi, Joe. I’m looking for my car.’
Joe, six foot six and with the body of a sumo wrestler wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box. However, she knew he wouldn’t let her leave without protection.
‘Now, Miss Coco, what are you up to?’ His deep voice wheezed a laugh.
She beamed up into his moon shaped face.
‘I’m looking for my car.’
Joe spoke into his lapel mike.
He cocked his head, pressing a finger to his earpiece to listen and turned to her with a Cheshire cat smile.
‘It’s on its way.’
Minutes later, a limousine with blacked-out windows slid to a halt at the end of the alley.
He walked her down and opened the rear passenger door.
‘Thanks, Joe.’
She slid in and closed her eyes, resting her aching head against the headrest as the door clicked shut.
Phew.
That was a close call.
The less she thought about what had happened between her and Rafe at Rosie’s wedding the better.
However, her hormones appeared more than happy to remember The Kiss along with her other senses. How was it possible she could smell the light scent of that fabulous cologne he wore, which just went to show she was definitely losing her mind.
‘Evening, doll face.’
Chapter Ten
Coco’s dark head whipped round.
Rafe registered the flash of the awareness in her eyes before it was replaced by desperation and fear. The first emotion he understood, the last couple tweaked his intuition.
The only time Coco looked shifty was when she was up to no good. And if the information he’d received this afternoon was correct, she was up to her beautiful neck in no good.
But God, she was a looker.
Her creamy skin appeared all hot and bothered. The raspberry stained lips, full and luscious, just begged for a man to taste them, again.
His shaft revved.
He crossed his legs.
And cast a practised eye over the long glossy swing of her black hair to the tips of those sky-high ankle breakers. How the hell she could walk in them he’d no idea.
Tonight she wore a black sleeveless body hugging dress that looked as if it was made of tiny suede flowers. For Coco it was remarkably ladylike, her hemlines usually nudged decency. Not that he was complaining since she had fabulous legs and looking at them was a simple pleasure.
Not only did he love her legs, he loved the sexy little body that did more than tempt a man.
She shivered.
And he had thoughts of a carnal nature on exactly how to heat her up.
Thick, spidery lashes caught on her bangs driving him fucking crazy.
His hand automatically lifted to brush her hair and she slapped it away.
‘Get out of my car.’
He couldn’t help it, the sharp tone filled with solid ice, made him grin.
‘Actually, it’s mine.’ He pressed a button on the armrest. The smoked glass partition between them and the driver slid down. ‘Say hello to John.’
His driver met Coco’s eyes in the mirror and nodded to her.
‘Evening, Miss Coco.’
The glass slid up and she turned to him.
Tucking silky hair behind her ear, she almost growled, ‘Where’s my car?’
‘It’s waiting for Louise and Jezebel.’
He didn’t miss the flare of heat in her eyes.
Opening her mouth to speak, she changed her mind and shut it with an audible snap.
‘How did you know I needed a driver?’
He tapped his ear.
‘No point in being Head of Operations if you don’t know what’s happening.’
Slipping the earpiece into his jacket pocket, Rafe reminded himself to keep the tone nice and friendly.
He offered her a smile.
‘Where are you going?’
She scrutinized him with wary eyes.
And he read a defiance that made his mouth water.
‘None of your business.’
‘It is very much my business,’ he said, watching her like a hawk. ‘Until Samson returns, and we’ll talk about that in a minute, I’m all yours.’
She took the last statement in the spirit in which it was given by sending him a look that would melt coal.
‘I don’t want you.’
Rafe gave her a slow sexy smile guaranteed to put her back up.
Sure enough that chin lifted and those vivid eyes narrowed into slits.
She always looked her best when her temper was up.
It was bad of him, but he couldn’t seem to help it, so he sat back to enjoy himself.