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‘It’s the reason I’m in France at the moment,’ Rafe explained. ‘Work of Art has been put up for several awards.’ He shrugged. ‘As director, I’m expected to make an appearance.’
The Cannes Film Festival, Cairo berated herself in her head. Of course Rafe’s film had been nominated for an award; it had virtually wiped the board at the Oscars earlier in the year.
‘But Cannes is miles away,’ she said stubbornly.
‘So?’
‘So there must be a hotel there where you could stay. It would be much more convenient than being all the way out here, anyway,’ Cairo reasoned firmly.
Rafe’s mouth tightened. ‘I’m sure it’s very kind of you to attempt to rearrange my plans for me in this way, Cairo,’ he bit out sarcastically. ‘But I’ve been travelling for hours now, and certainly have no intention of discussing this any further until I’ve at least taken a swim. What do you say, Daisy-May, shall the two of us go for a swim?’ He smiled affectionately at the little girl as she gave an excited squeal of approval. ‘It would appear you’re outnumbered and outgunned, Cairo,’ Rafe drawled as he put Daisy down on the tarmacked drive and she instantly took hold of his hand to begin pulling him down towards the swimming pool on the lower terrace.
‘But—’
‘Outnumbered and outgunned,’ Rafe repeated softly as he released his hand from Daisy’s to begin pulling his polo shirt over his head, revealing a broad golden expanse of naked chest and shoulders.
Cairo’s mouth went dry and her breath caught in her throat as she found herself unable to look away from the sight of Rafe slowly peeling the shirt from his body.
Eight years ago, she had been intimately familiar with every hard, muscled, beautiful inch of Rafe’s body, from those wide shoulders, across that muscled chest and flat stomach and down to thrusting thighs.
The time since then had only honed that body, with not an ounce of superfluous flesh on his muscled torso. Rafe’s dark hair rested rakishly on his shoulders as he looked across at her with challenging blue eyes. He looked every inch a Spanish conquistador with that mocking smile playing about those chiselled lips. He seemed fully aware that he had rendered Cairo momentarily speechless.
The bastard. He had done that on purpose. Had deliberately—
‘Rafe!’ she gasped as his hand moved with slow deliberation to unfasten the top button of his denims and slowly slide down the zip.
He arched mocking brows. ‘Something wrong, Cairo?’ he taunted.
Something was very wrong!
Eight years ago, the two of them hadn’t exactly parted the best of friends. In fact, the two of them hadn’t seen or spoken to each other again in all that time.
But just to look at him now made Cairo feel breathless, her face hot and flushed. No, all of her felt hot and flushed as she found herself unable to look away from those unfastened denims and the deep V of dark hair that disappeared beneath them.
She moistened dry lips. ‘Daisy, would you pop into the villa and get us some lemonade to drink by the pool?’ She gave her niece what she hoped was a reassuring smile; the muscles in her face didn’t seem to be working properly!
‘You won’t be long, Uncle Rafe?’ Daisy paused to ask wistfully.
‘Two minutes, Daisy-May,’ he promised huskily.
There it was again. That gut feeling that something wasn’t quite right about this situation.
And Cairo knew exactly what it was!
Uncle Rafe.
Daisy-May.
It was obvious from Rafe’s arrival that Margo and Jeff had kept up their friendship with him, but for how long and how well did Daisy know Rafe that the affection between them was so obvious and the little girl addressed him by the honorary title of ‘Uncle’?
And only the family and really close friends ever called Daisy by the affectionate Daisy-May…
Admittedly Cairo had lived mainly in America the last eight years, her visits home infrequent to say the least, but still she would have thought that she would at least have had some idea that her sister and brother-in-law had remained such close friends with Rafe all this time.
Rafe could almost see the disagreeable thoughts racing through Cairo’s head. She was undoubtedly annoyed with Margo and Jeff for putting her in this position in the first place.
He could only guess as to the other couple’s motives for their actions; Margo and Jeff had never made any secret of the fact that they regretted that he and Cairo had parted eight years ago.
That they ‘had parted’! Such simple words to describe such a catastrophic event.
Their last meeting had consisted of a pretty one-sided conversation as Cairo had told him their relationship was over, followed three days later by the announcement of her engagement to Lionel Bond.
A marriage that had now also come to an end.
But Margo and Jeff were whistling in the wind if they thought that little fact was going to make any difference to how Rafe and Cairo felt about each other. Although her obvious determination now to see him leave only made Rafe stubbornly want to do the opposite!
‘Lemonade, Cairo?’ he commented with a grimace. ‘My own preference would have been a glass of wine on the terrace while we gazed out at the view down the valley to the bay of Cannes.’
She glared at him. ‘We aren’t going to be gazing out at anything together, Rafe,’ she snapped. ‘In fact—’
‘I said let’s save the explanations until later, Cairo,’ he reminded her forcefully. ‘For the moment I intend taking a swim with Daisy.’ To prove his point he deliberately slid the zip on his denims the rest of the way before slowly pushing the heavy material down his thighs.
And watched as Cairo’s eyes widened, and then widened even more as she realized his intent, her protest only dying on her lips as she saw that Rafe actually wore black swimming trunks beneath the jeans he had now completely removed.
But that momentary lapse in her protests had shown that she wasn’t as immune to him as she would have him believe, Rafe noted consideringly. Although he had no doubt, as he saw her shoulders straighten with new determination, that if challenged, she would vehemently deny that awareness.
She drew in a deep breath. ‘Rafe, how many times do I have to say it? You are not staying here!’
‘Sure I am,’ he came back easily. ‘We’ll spend the afternoon swimming and sunbathing with Daisy, then later this evening we can all cook dinner together, and then when Daisy is in bed, the two of us can—’
‘We can what, Rafe?’ Cairo cut in sharply, brown eyes glittering in dark warning as she gave an exasperated shake of her head, having thankfully now regrouped after being completely thrown seconds ago when she had believed Rafe was going to strip off to his underpants.
He usually wore the very briefest of underpants, if her memory served her correctly. And she was pretty sure that it did! Not that the swimming trunks were much better, as the thin material clearly outlined every powerful inch of his hips above long, tanned legs.
Her mouth thinned as she looked up and determinedly met his mocking blue gaze. ‘I repeat, Rafe, that the two of us are not going to be doing anything together—not later on this evening when Daisy is in bed, or at any other time!’
‘Do I take it from that remark that you aren’t pleased to see me again, Cairo?’ he murmured throatily.
How had he moved so fast? Cairo wondered slightly dazedly as she suddenly found Rafe was standing only inches away from her, so near she could actually see the pores in the skin of his face. So close that she could actually feel the heat of his body, and smell that clean male smell that was totally Rafe: tangy soap, a lightly elusive aftershave, and a pure animal scent that acted on a woman’s senses like a drug. On her senses like a—
No!
This man had broken her heart eight years ago. He hadn’t just broken it—the womanizing rat had trampled all over it!
Cairo stood her ground as she refused to be intimidated by the close proximity of his near-nakedness, almost eye to eye with him as Rafe was only a couple of inches taller than her own almost six feet. A compatibility in height that had once given them both incredible pleasure as they—
This was not the time to remember that compatibility! What she should be recalling was that in every other way that mattered they had been totally incompatible.
Her mouth tightened. ‘I have no idea what gave you the impression I might be— What are you doing?’ She flinched her head back sharply when he would have reached out and touched her cheek.
Rafe’s gaze narrowed as he saw her purely instinctive response to the move, his hand dropping slowly back to his side. He wondered just what Cairo’s eight-year marriage to Lionel Bond had been like to have caused her to flinch in that way at the merest hint of physical contact.
Unless it was just him that she didn’t want to touch her…?
It was a definite possibility, Rafe acknowledged grimly. The last time he and Cairo had spoken together she had left him in absolutely no doubt that, although she had enjoyed their relationship while it had lasted, she now had other plans for her life that most certainly did not include him.
Cairo had taken Hollywood by storm when she’d moved there with her movie-producer husband eight years ago, but even so, she and Rafe had never met again until now. Cairo was a member of the partying set that Rafe avoided at all costs.
Rafe stood unmoving now, his gaze steadily holding Cairo’s more wary one as he noted other changes in her beside that ethereal slenderness.
Her eyes, those chocolate-brown orbs that could melt a man’s soul, were guarded now rather than glowing as they used to do.
There were dark shadows beneath those eyes, too, as if she hadn’t slept well for some time. And there were small delicate lines on either side of the fullness of her mouth, as if a smile had been grimly set there far too often and for far too long as a shield to the inner unhappiness she had no intention of allowing anyone to see or even guess at.
A veneer that had been totally exploded when Cairo had first separated from, and then divorced, her very powerful husband.
On the surface, their marriage had seemed idyllic. A myth that Rafe, along with everyone else who had ever seen or read anything about the couple, had totally believed in until their separation ten months ago….
‘Let’s all just go for that swim, hmm, Cairo, and talk about this later?’ he encouraged softly now.
Cairo stepped away from him. ‘You’re many things, Rafe, but I never thought stupid as being one of them—’ She broke off with a frown as Rafe gave her a derisive smile. ‘You find something about this situation amusing?’ she bit out irritably.
Yes, Cairo was definitely still in possession of that fiery temperament that had once attracted him so strongly and that made her so electrifying to watch on the big screen.
‘Only the way you keep insisting that I have to leave.’ He shrugged. ‘Even if I could manage to find an available hotel room in the middle of the Cannes Film Festival, I wouldn’t,’ he admitted.
‘Why wouldn’t you?’
‘Firstly, because I much prefer the peace and quiet to be found here—’
‘I agree—it was quiet and very peaceful!’ Cairo gave him a pointed glare, letting him know clearly that he was the reason that was no longer the case. ‘Rafe, you must know I have absolutely no intention of letting you stay on here.’
‘Ah.’
‘What do you mean, “ah”?’ she prompted warily.
‘The thing is, Cairo, that brings me to the second reason I have no intention of leaving, either now or in the immediate future,’ he told her firmly.
‘Which is…?’ she challenged.
Rafe couldn’t help laughing out loud. ‘That I’m not the guest here, Cairo—you are. This is my villa,’ he added dryly when she continued to look at him blankly.
Cairo stared at Rafe unblinkingly.
Rafe was the ‘friend’ who let Margo and Jeff stay at his villa in the South of France every year?
CHAPTER TWO
NO ONE looking at Cairo’s calm expression, as she relaxed in her bikini on a lounger beside the pool, would ever have guessed at the emotions seething inside her.
Except Rafe, of course.
The cause of those seething emotions!
But he was apparently too busy playing with Daisy, in the pool he had dived into immediately after announcing he owned the villa, to even seem aware of Cairo’s presence there, too. Other than physically dragging him out of the pool—which, considering Rafe weighed twice as much as she did, was a non-starter—and demanding he leave, Cairo had little choice but to join the two of them down on the lower terrace.
Dark glasses shielded her eyes from prying eyes, as well as the glare of the sun as she contemplated her options.
Rafe owned this villa in the South of France.
A little fact that Margo had apparently forgotten to mention for the last eight years, seven of which she and Jeff had been coming to stay here for a couple of weeks every spring!
Or perhaps Margo had simply felt it more diplomatic not to mention that the villa belonged to Rafe….
Cairo had absolutely refused to discuss, with anyone, the reason for the end of her relationship with Rafe Montero. In fact, not only had she refused to talk about him, she had also forbidden Margo to talk to her about him, too. Which would, admittedly, have made it extremely difficult for Margo to tell Cairo that she and Jeff had remained friends with him all these years!
However, there was no way she could stay on here now that she knew Rafe owned the villa, so that meant Cairo had two options.
She could either return to England and the publicity, which, although it was nowhere near as unrelenting as it had been in the States, still dogged Cairo’s steps every time she so much as stepped out of the apartment she had bought in London and moved into six months ago.
Or alternatively she could find somewhere else for herself and Daisy to stay in this beautiful area of France.
The latter option was the obvious one, of course. For one thing, Daisy was sure to be very disappointed if they had to cut their holiday short. For another, Cairo really didn’t want to return to England yet, seeing as she had actually been enjoying this first proper holiday she had taken in years.
Dammit, why had Rafe Montero had to turn up and disturb their tranquillity in this way?
Also, having turned up, and discovered Cairo here instead of Margo and Jeff, what was he still doing here? He had to know how awkward this situation was for her. He also had to know that the two of them couldn’t remain here alone—apart from Daisy—together!
He just didn’t give a damn.
But then, he never had….
Cairo looked across at him from behind her sunglasses, watching the droplets of water glistening on his face and shoulders as he stood up in the deep end of the pool playing a ball game with Daisy, his dark hair wet now and slicked back from his face as he grinned mischievously at the little girl. That ruggedly handsome face had once made Cairo’s heartbeat quicken just to look at it…
She turned sharply away, her hands clenching at her sides as she fought back those painful memories.
Here and now was what mattered.
But here and now Cairo felt completely at a loss to know what to do next. Rafe, on the basis that this villa was actually his, was quite rightly refusing to leave, but the logistics of finding another villa for Daisy and herself to move into seemed overwhelming to Cairo.
And this indecisiveness was Rafe’s fault, too!
Because Cairo had allowed herself to relax during the last twenty-four hours, to just let herself be, to exist, to let herself revel in the fact that, after years of making films back to back, she had no pressing work pressures for the next two weeks, when she was due to begin rehearsals for the lead in the London play she had agreed to appear in.
Now Rafe, with his unwanted presence here, was forcing her into once again making decisions, when it was the last thing she felt like doing.
She desperately blinked back the tears of frustration. She wouldn’t cry. She would not!
So if she wasn’t going to be ‘sad,’ then she would just have to get ‘mad’. And Rafe Montero was the obvious person for her to get mad at!
