A Touch of Notoriety(20)
‘And is that likely to happen?’
‘Not if I can avoid it, no,’ he bit out grimly.
Beth looked at him searchingly for several seconds, once again noting that quiet but lethal strength that proclaimed him a predator; the clenched fists at his sides, the determined set of his jaw and the piercing blue of his narrowed eyes. All indications that this man, beneath the expensive trappings of civility he wore so well—those designer label suits, and the silk shirts and ties—was in fact a fighting machine. Lean, dangerous and, by his own admission, ultimately deadly.
And yet...
‘I trust you not to hurt me, Raphael,’ she assured him huskily.
He blinked. ‘You trust me?’
‘Not to physically hurt me, yes.’ Emotionally was another matter, however...
Beth’s emotions in regard to the Navarro family might have knocked her emotions all over the place at the moment, but not so much that she didn’t know how physically attracted she was to Raphael—or how much of a mistake it would be for her to allow it to become anything more than that. That dark edge of danger, clinging to him like a second skin, was also a warning to any and all who might try to get to the emotions hidden beneath that skin.
The broodingly dangerous Raphael Cordoba was way, way out of her league.
Those piercing blue eyes glowed fiercely for several seconds. ‘Very well.’ He nodded abruptly. ‘I will leave you to change while I go and do the same, and meet you upstairs in the gym on the floor above this one in ten minutes.’ He turned on his heel and strode from the bedroom as suddenly as he had entered it.
Leaving Beth to stare after him as she wondered how many times Raphael had been called upon to use those specialised skills, both during his years in the army and the past ten years he had spent as Cesar’s Head of Security.
* * *
Out of her league or not, Beth would have to be made of steel not to be affected by Raphael’s appearance when she met him upstairs in the gym ten minutes later!
A black sleeveless vest clung to the perfectly muscled contours of his chest, revealing equally muscular and smoothly bronzed arms, the silky dark hair on his chest visible above the low neckline of that sleeveless vest, loose-fitting soft black cotton trousers resting low down on the leanness of his hips, his legs long and powerful, his feet bare. He looked every bit a bronzed sculpture, the swarthiness of his face harshly chiselled, every part of that lean and muscled body perfectly toned.
‘Ready?’
Beth had to drag her gaze up from all that muscled perfection in order to meet his piercing blue gaze. Her throat moved as she swallowed before attempting to answer him off-handedly. ‘Don’t I look ready?’
Oh, yes, she looked ready—but for what, Raphael was unsure. Her blond hair was secured back in a tight plait down the length of her spine, and she was wearing a vest top and loose trousers similar to his own. Perfectly suitable attire in which to fight. An impression that was totally nullified by the full swell of her breasts beneath that white vest-top, the nipples pressing against that light material revealed as being dark and dusky—and just as plump and aroused as the berries they resembled.
And she was expecting Raphael to fight her when she looked like that?
‘Cesar never does anything by halves, does he?’ Beth looked about her appreciatively at all of the state-of-the-art equipment: several sets of weights, a running machine, rowing machine, several other bits of equipment that she had no idea what they were used for, along with a sauna and a shower, and a blue martial arts mat that dominated the centre of the room.
‘Not even falling in love,’ Raphael acknowledged dryly.
Beth turned to smile at him as she slipped off her flip-flops beside the mat. ‘And he does love my big sister, Grace, very much, doesn’t he?’
He nodded. ‘She is more than woman enough to match Cesar’s strength of character, yes.’
Beth’s smile faded as she felt a sharp pang of—of what, at Raphael’s obvious admiration for Grace? Jealousy? Towards her own sister? Surely not? Although there was no doubting Raphael’s admiration for Grace. ‘Do I detect a slight infatuation for my big sister, Raphael?’ she taunted in an effort to cover up her discomfort at the mere idea of Raphael being interested in Grace.
He raised dark brows. ‘Infatuation is for adolescents.’
His slightly contemptuous tone implied he obviously considered her amongst that category—not a cheering thought when Beth only had to look at him to feel that tug of desire in the pit of her stomach.