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‘Are you coming in for a swim or not?’ Rafe leant his arms on the side of the pool as he looked across at her.
He had been totally aware of Cairo the last hour or so as she lay so still and silent on a lounger beside the pool, not reading a book or magazine but just staring off into the distance.
She looked even more slender now that she had removed the overlong T-shirt to reveal that she wore only a brief black bikini beneath; there didn’t seem to be an ounce of superfluous flesh on those long silky limbs.
Long, silky limbs that had more than once been entwined with his…
‘No, I’m not coming in for a swim,’ she answered him tersely now. ‘Rafe, you must see that we have to talk about—about the awkwardness, of this situation…?’
Yes, of course he knew the two of them had to talk. Dammit, he was no more happy about finding himself practically alone here with Cairo—young Daisy apart— than she obviously was at having him here.
But neither did he think it was a good idea to have Daisy witness an argument between her aunty Cairo and her ‘uncle’ Rafe, especially when—as it was sure to!—it resulted in the two of them saying things it would be much better for Daisy not to hear.
His mouth thinned. ‘Cairo, how does Daisy seem to you?’
‘Seem to me?’ she repeated with a frowning glance at the little girl playing at the other end of the pool by throwing a coin into the water before diving in to collect it.
‘Dammit, Cairo.’ Rafe quickly ascended the steps that led out of the pool. ‘How long is it since you’ve seen or cared about anyone but yourself?’ he demanded as he stood beside her to pick up a towel and begin drying his hair.
Cairo gasped at his accusing tone. ‘That is totally unfair, Rafe!’ It was also totally unfair what his semi-nakedness was doing to her heart-rate as he leisurely dried himself off with the towel!
‘Is it?’ he challenged grimly as he moved to sit down on the lounger next to hers. ‘Tell me what you see when you look at Daisy,’ he ordered.
Cairo stared at him rebelliously for several long seconds before turning her attention to her young niece. ‘I see…a little girl having fun playing in the pool,’ she said.
‘Look again, Cairo. Closer,’ he insisted as she would have protested.
Cairo bit back her resentment at his arrogant tone as she turned her attention back to Daisy. Tall for her age, with shoulder-length golden hair and blue eyes, Daisy looked to her like any other healthy, happy six-year-old on holiday.
Or did she…?
Now that Cairo thought about it, before Rafe’s arrival earlier, Daisy hadn’t been as chatty this last twenty-four hours. Oh, her niece had played in the pool yesterday and, this morning, had helped Cairo prepare their meals, but she had been less gregarious than usual, less spontaneous, less inclined to do anything, and had refused absolutely to go to the local shops with Cairo this morning so that they could restock on food. Cairo had put this uncharacteristic lack of cooperation down to tiredness after their journey, but what if that wasn’t the reason?
Cairo turned frowningly back to Rafe. ‘You think she’s worried about Margo?’
His mouth twisted derisively. ‘What do you think?’
Not knowing how much Daisy actually knew about Margo’s condition, Cairo wasn’t really sure how to answer that question.
Maybe Rafe was right. Maybe Cairo had been too wrapped up in her own problems just recently to give anyone else’s a thought. Although she certainly didn’t thank Rafe for being the one to point that out—until now she hadn’t even known he liked children, let alone understood Daisy’s moods.
She sat up on the lounger. ‘Perhaps I should sit down with her and calmly explain that Margo just needs to rest for a few weeks because her blood pressure is a little high—’
‘And you think a little girl of six will be reassured by that explanation?’ Rafe said sarcastically.
Colour warmed Cairo’s cheeks at his intended rebuke. ‘I think it might be worth a try, yes!’
He scowled. ‘If that’s the extent of your knowledge of children, perhaps it’s as well that you and Bond never had any!’
Cairo gasped incredulously at his scorn, the fact that she had thought exactly the same thing following her separation from Lionel not important at that moment; Rafe certainly hadn’t meant it in the same way she did.
‘Look at yourself, Cairo.’ Rafe’s gaze ran over her with scathing dismissal. ‘Perfect hair. Perfect skin. Perfect teeth. Too-perfect body. Perfect damned everything! At least you looked human eight years ago; now you just look like every other perfect Hollywood actress!’
Cairo felt her cheeks pale at his deliberately insulting tone. It was too much on top of everything else she had gone through the last eight years.
She stood up. ‘When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it— Let go of me, Rafe!’ she instructed between gritted teeth as he reached out to curl long fingers about her wrist.
A too-slender wrist, Rafe decided even as he felt the creamy softness of her skin beneath his fingers, his gaze moving down to her hand now, the long, slender fingers completely bare of rings. Although there was a slightly whiter band of skin on the third finger of her left hand where her wedding ring and that huge rock that Bond had bought her as an engagement ring used to be….
‘I don’t think so,’ he challenged softly, even as his fingers tightened about her wrist.
Dark sunglasses hid the emotion in her eyes, but the pallor of her cheeks and the unhappy curve of her mouth were evidence of her rising anger.
She was angry? After years of deliberately blocking any memory of Cairo from his mind, Rafe had been forced to relive every single one of them during the last hour. It hadn’t improved his temper at all.
His mouth compressed into a thin line. ‘How’s your career, Cairo?’
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘The last time I looked it was just fine, thank you.’
‘Really?’ Rafe taunted.
‘Yes—really!’ she grated.
Rafe shrugged. ‘You can’t live on the publicity of the divorce for ever, you know. At some time in the not too distant future you’ll have to get back to work.’
Cairo’s palm itched, her free hand actually aching from the effort it took to stop herself from slapping that arrogant smile from Rafe’s mockingly curved lips.
He grimaced. ‘I’m just trying to be helpful—’
‘When I want your advice, I’ll ask for it!’ Her eyes flashed an unmistakable warning.
He quirked dark brows. ‘Which would be never—right?’
‘Right!’
‘I’m just interested, Cairo. Relocating yourself to London after your separation doesn’t exactly seem like a good career move, does it?’ Rafe’s gaze was fixed on her face.
‘Mind your own damned business!’
‘Fine.’ He released her abruptly to hold his hands up as he stepped away from her.
Cairo glared at him for several more seconds before giving an abrupt nod. ‘If you’ll excuse me…’
‘Running away, Cairo?’ Rafe taunted her as she turned away.
Cairo paused to look back at him, her chin raised stubbornly high. ‘I believe you said earlier that you would enjoy a glass of white wine…?’
His brows rose. ‘And you’re about to go and get me one?’
‘If it means I get to spend a little less time in your unpleasant company, yes!’ she bit out. ‘But, of course, if you’ve changed your mind—’
‘You should know by now that once my mind is made up about something—or someone—then it rarely changes,’ he said pointedly.
‘Luckily, neither does mine,’ she came back just as pointedly.
They continued to look at each other for several long, tense seconds, a battle of wills that was totally matched in intensity, with neither of them willing to back down.
It had always been like this between them, Rafe recalled ruefully. Cairo might only have been a twenty-year-old actress just starting out in her career eight years ago, but even then she’d had a definite mind of her own, had known exactly what she wanted and how to get it. And eight years ago, she had decided she wanted to become the wife of multi-millionaire movie producer Lionel Bond and unashamedly used her relationship with Rafe as a stepping stone to achieving that goal.
He moved to lie back on the lounger as he looked out over the terraces of orange trees that surrounded the pool. ‘White wine sounds good,’ he said curtly.
He felt Cairo continue to look at him frowningly for several more seconds before she turned sharply on her heel and continued up the steps to the villa.
Rafe waited until he was sure she had left before turning to look at her, his hands clenching at his sides as he watched that red hair cascading wildly down a back that seemed endless and almost sensuously feline, a bottom smoothly curving in the black bikini, and legs that were long and shapely.
Dammit, even after all this time, after all that had happened between them, Cairo was still one of the most seductively beautiful women Rafe had ever laid eyes—or hands—on.
Not a comfortable realization for a man who made a point of never becoming involved with a woman. Not any more!
He looked across at Daisy playing in the pool. ‘Sweetheart, do you want to go inside and get changed now? It’ll be time to eat soon.’
‘Okay, Uncle Rafe.’ Daisy obediently got out of the pool and went inside the villa.
Cairo’s movements were agitated as she collected wine from the fridge and glasses from the cupboard, not forgetting to get some more juice for Daisy, too, in case she fancied a drink.
How dared Rafe even presume to offer her advice?
Rafe had callously broken her heart eight years ago, leaving her completely vulnerable to the face-saving offer of Lionel’s marriage proposal—
Cairo came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the kitchen, her eyes closing as she swayed dizzily.
It was the first time she had ever admitted, even to herself, that Rafe’s actions were the real reason she had married Lionel….
She shook her head as she once again fought back the tears.
No matter what her reasons might or might not have been for marrying Lionel, despite the fact that she hadn’t loved him, she had tried to be a good wife to him, had accompanied him to numerous parties and premieres, always the glamorous and smiling asset. Her work schedule had also been horrendous in recent years, more often than not for Lionel’s own production company.
Yes, she really had tried to be the ‘perfect’ wife to Lionel.
The fact that she had ultimately failed still haunted her….
‘Cairo, exactly what are you doing?’
Cairo was so startled by the harsh sound of Rafe’s voice behind her that she dropped the carton of juice she was holding, staring down as it seemed to fall in slow motion before landing with a very liquid splat on the tiled floor to spray the juice high into the air.
She gasped as most of that cold juice landed on her bare legs, stepping back quickly, only to come up against a hard, immovable object.
Rafe’s body…
Cairo froze as her back came into contact with the searing heat of Rafe’s bare chest and thighs, her spine stiffening as she immediately tried to move away from that contact.
It was too much, Rafe decided grimly. Having an almost naked Cairo pressed against him, her bottom nestled neatly against his hardening thighs, was just too much on top of coming face to face with her again so unexpectedly earlier on.
He grasped her arms to turn her round to face him, knowing by her sudden gasp, the widening of those dark brown eyes as she looked up at him, that she had read the intent in his eyes.
That she knew Rafe was going to kiss her.
Not gently.
Not searchingly.
Certainly not with the slow sensuality with which they used to kiss.
Rafe was hungry.
Very hungry.
So damned hungry for the taste and feel of Cairo that he wanted to strip those two scraps of material from her body, push her against the wall, and take her where she stood!
He held her gaze with his as his arms moved about her like steel bands, moulding her willowy curves against the lean length of his own body before moving his eyes down to look at the parted softness of her lips.
Cairo had always had the most erotic mouth he had ever seen, her lips full and pouting, slightly moistened now, as if inviting and ready for his kiss.
And he was more than ready to kiss her!
Cairo was held mesmerized by the fierceness of Rafe’s gaze, but her breath stopped completely as his head swooped and his mouth forcefully claimed hers, deeply, fiercely, demanding a response from her rather than asking for one.
A response Cairo was unable to deny him as her lips seemed to part of their own volition. Her arms moved up and her hands clung to those wide, powerful shoulders, Rafe’s skin feeling like steel encased in satin beneath her fingertips.
Heat exploded between them, a fierce, burning heat.
Everywhere were licking flames of complete awareness, of fierce arousal, as her body curved more intimately against Rafe’s and she returned the hunger of his kiss.
It had been so long—too long!—since Cairo had felt so stingingly, vibrantly alive!
Rafe’s hands, his large, evocative hands, moved caressingly across her back as that devouring kiss continued, Rafe’s tongue now thrusting into the moist heat of her mouth, and all the time those hands seeming to burn as they caressed her from hip to breast in restless demand.
Muscles rippled along Rafe’s spine as Cairo touched him there, his silky skin feeling hot, hard, and so wonderful.
Cairo was so lost to reason, so totally aroused, that she offered no protest as she felt Rafe unfastening the single hook at the back of her top before one of his hands moved round unerringly to cup the nakedness of her breast.
Cairo melted completely as the soft pad of his thumb moved caressingly across the thrusting pout of her nipple, rivers of pleasure engulfing her—
‘Uncle Rafe…?’
Cairo barely had time to register Daisy’s presence in the kitchen before Rafe pulled sharply away from her, eyes darkly—briefly—accusing as he thrust Cairo impatiently behind him before turning to face the little girl.
Rafe breathed raggedly. ‘Aunty Cairo and I were just—’
