Betrayed(22)

She scrubbed tears from her eyes with the back of a hand. “I can’t talk about it.”

Damn! What was he doing, what was he putting her through? He said, “I’m sorry.”

She took out a handkerchief, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “It’s okay.”

Seeing her so vulnerable made him want to make love. Logic and reason didn’t come into it. Jeez! He was insensitive, but he wanted Kat, more than any woman he’d ever wanted. If solving the problem with her mother would help him get there, that’s what he’d do.

The boat rocked. Kat snuggled to him. Her hair smelled like summer. He said thickly, “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s just that I want to learn every little thing about you.”

To the left, within his field of vision, a gull circled, its wingtips trimming occasionally to match air-currents. It swooped quite near, looking for scraps.

Kat put both of her arms around his waist.

Rafael felt crazy. All he could think about was peeling her clothes off. He wanted to see her breasts, to touch them, to caress them. He wanted to taste her.

“I want to hold you,” she whispered. “Talking will have to wait.” She pressed her face against him, her voice muffled. “Rafael, do you promise not to expect too much of me.”

“I’ve already said so.”

“Do you really mean it? Can you tolerate a relationship with no strings?”

“I’ve said so.”

“There can be no future,” she said quickly. “You know, don’t you? I’ll walk away one day without saying why; if I do you mustn’t try to find me.”

Rafael insides turned topsy-turvy. “I can’t pretend to understand why, but if those are the rules…”

“They are.”

She squeezed him tightly, but his heart sank. He could have taken her right then on the open sea, but there would be no lovemaking yet. “Kat!” he sighed wearily. “I guess we have visitors.”

She turned to follow his gaze. Bearing close across their bow was another yacht and it showed every sign of anchoring.





Chapter 7



They couldn’t wait to get back to the villa. Kat spent an astonishing night with him, and there would be more. She had been honest with herself and the admission made her heady. They were an item now, at least while she allowed.

Heavy rained fell during the night. He hadn’t closed his wooden shutters, and because of the noise she slept fitfully. She dreamed of people caught making love under open skies.

She went into her room, dressed then disturbed the bedclothes for the sake of Aliaga. Checking herself in the mirror she dropped her makeup into her handbag, tossed it to the dresser, and went out to the curved marble staircase. On the way to the breakfast room she turned a corner and Señora Aliaga almost bumped into her.

Aliaga’s small fox-like face darkened with irritation, her hooded eyes unflinching. No apology.

Kat followed her into the room, where Rafael already sat. He gave a conspiratorial wink and said loud enough for Aliaga to hear, “Morning! Had a good night I trust?”

She suppressed a grin. “I don’t suppose any worse than yours. The rain kept me awake.”

He stood. “Would you like to make a start once you’ve eaten? I shan’t be able to spend long, I’m afraid. I have a meeting later.”

Kat shook her head. “I think I might go into Moraira. I need a few things.”

“Don’t you want to go over some designs?”

Aliaga gathered the empty dishes and left. Kat waited until she shut the door. “I’d prefer to go into town.”

“Because of last night?” he whispered. “Regrets already?”

She held his hand to her cheek. “Señor Saval, regret is the furthest thing I can think of.” She looked over her shoulder to make sure Aliaga wasn’t around, and ran her hand down his thigh. “I could never have regrets.”

“Are you humouring me.”

“Humouring? I’m too tired to humour anyone. I didn’t sleep well. Something kept me awake all night.”

“Oh, and what was that?”

“Something came up. Something pressing…” She touched his lips with her fingertip. “Now don’t say another word, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to go into town.”

“Then I shall run you.”

“No! I’ll take a taxi. You get on with whatever you have to. I’ll be okay. I need to indulge in a spot of good old retail therapy.”

“I’ll take you. I insist. As your host, I’ll provide you with any amenity you wish.”

“And as your guest, I insist I take a taxi.”

Rafael gazed her. She said, “Stop dribbling, Señor. We all know the extent of your libido.” She smoothed her top with mock reserve. “Now if you’ve finished ogling me, I shall telephone for a taxi”

“A compromise?” Rafael fumbled in his pocket and produced a bunch of keys and dangled them. “The Lamborghini.”

“Wow! Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave a quick peck on his cheek. “With this, I should be able to pull loads of gorgeous men.”

“More like, scare them off. Don’t you realise, men are threatened by glamorous women in fast cars?”

“Are you threatened?”

He smirked. “The car is insured for any driver. Go where you wish. There’s a sat-nav if you get lost.”

“You’re a darling.” Kat kissed him on the cheek then went to her room to pick up her handbag, but stopped dead. The bag was closed. She had left it open. The horrid Aliaga must have been messing with her things. The bed wasn’t made, so it wasn’t as if Aliaga closed it whilst tidying around.

Kat collected her things, put on her coat and after locking the bedroom door hurried to the front entrance. She made her way across to the car, dodging puddles.

The Lamborghini roared into life at the first touch of the key, and growled each time she touched the pedal. Kat drove carefully, testing the car’s response, feeling nervous of the power. To reach Moraira, took about thirty-five minutes along the N332, and through the tangle of new roundabouts in Teulada.

The reasons she wanted to go to Moraira, were several international fashion stores, all with designer-labels. She felt like pampering herself. In one, she found a ‘Betty Barclay’, satin blouse she liked, and held it against herself in a mirror.

“Do you often indulge in shopping when you could be making money?”

She turned to the man who spoke. He flashed a press-card. “My name is Billy Mellor… reporter.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

He shrugged. “Finery & Frocks, Las Modas Ibéricas? What are these tales of exciting new ideas being tossed around?”

Kat eyed him. “You tell me?”

“News about the fashion world always interests my readers. A company like Las Modas Ibéricas, fishing among the British textile industry, is even better.”

“So?”

“And what are these new outfits I’ve heard you’re tinkering with? The press so far has shown nothing… Do I smell a scoop?”

“I don’t think the Great British Public would bother about Finery & Frocks. We’re small fry. As for new lines, you’ll have to wait and see.”

“Doesn’t an aggressive shark swallow small fry?”

“Is that what you think?” She turned from him and rummaged through the rack of skirts.

“And your father?” he said drily. “Does his penchant for casino tables, have anything to do with the business deal?”

Kat almost choked. How had the press got hold of that? What had dad been up to whilst she was over here? She felt blood drain from her face, but refused to look up from the skirt rack.

He walked around the rack so he faced her. “Of course riotous parties involving celebrities always fascinate readers, particularly when they get out of hand.”

She looked up at him now. “You’re talking in riddles.”

“A takeover is always a good reason for a party. Have you anything planned yet?”

“I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“Shall we say Señor Saval and his renowned social gatherings make good reading? His notoriety goes way beyond destroying whoever stands in his way. Maybe you’d like to talk about it?”

She said stiffly, “Where is this leading?”

“Ah, I think you already know. Your Spanish gentleman plays games a little frayed at the edges.”

“You are talking nonsense.”

“Let’s say that if I were your brother, I’d advise you to keep your distance from Señor Saval, but you perhaps already know.”