While his conscience told him he was taking advantage of the situation, another part told him he now had the perfect opportunity to explore his complex feelings for this woman.
But he couldn’t help the fear crawling up his spine that she’d become entangled in Sergei Kandinsky’s personal life. It was well known in certain circles that the man was abusive.
He’d sent out teams to find his missing wife and son.
And by her reaction tonight Coco was up to her ears in their disappearance. Knowing her, she wouldn’t think twice about helping a friend in need.
But God, if anything happened to her...
Dragging his mouth from hers, he pressed crushing, passionate open-mouthed kisses down her jaw line to that frantically beating delicate spot under her ear.
She smelt fabulous and he inhaled the essence that was pure Coco as she moaned low in her throat.
She clung to him, trembling uncontrollably with reaction in his arms.
He realised she was sobbing in her throat as she sucked frantic breaths into her lungs.
Christ, he didn’t want to let her go.
He spread his legs and pulled her hips closer.
Her sobs only increased along with her trembling.
Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed.
What he needed to do was to strip her and plunge into her, make her his. But this was neither the time or the place.
He sat with her on his knees.
And holding her tight tried to settle them both.
How long they sat like that, just holding each other, Coco had no idea.
Rafe was murmuring against her hair.
She pulled back to look into his amazing face.
He had his eyes tightly closed as if he was in agony.
And since she was sitting on it she knew he was struggling with a titanic erection.
Shuddering with desire she fought to calm her breathing.
Well, if she’d thought her reaction to The Kiss had been over the top it was nothing compared to this.
Her mind might delude itself that she could control her reaction to the attraction between them.
But her body, so painfully aroused, was telling her something quite different.
A cold sweat broke out of every pore.
The roar in her ears, the too fast beat of her heart told her she was in deep trouble.
The spots dancing in front of her eyes only confirmed it.
Rafe opened his eyes and place his forehead on hers.
‘I think that answered the question in the car, don’t you?’ His voice sounded hoarse and he cleared his throat. ‘So, the next question is, what are we going to do about it?’
Her jerky shudders had him pull back and look at her closely for the first time.
Her skin was a sickly grey.
Tiny droplets of sweat beaded on her top lip.
The violet of her eyes had gone, replaced now by fully dilated pupils.
In her neck, her pulse jack-rabbited.
Alarmed, he lifted her, sat her on the bed.
Crouching he took her hands and found them cold and clammy.
‘What’s the matter? Christ, baby, I didn’t mean to scare you.’
She shook her head and the trembling only increased as her teeth chattered.
And she clenched her jaw.
‘P-p-panic attack.’
First he’d heard of it.
Studying her face he read the simple truth.
‘Since when?’
He grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around her.
Coco struggled to catch her breath as he frowned.
All the while his eyes stayed on hers.
With an expletive that made her wince, he strode to bathroom and returned with a glass of water.
‘Take deep breaths through your nose rather than panting in your throat,’ he ordered.
He helped her take a sip, placed the glass on a table and crouched in front of her.
‘Coco, since when?’
Sweat trickled down her back.
Breathing through her nose, doing exactly as he instructed, Coco’s heart rate went from a sprint to a steady jog.
Rafe squeezed her hands in encouragement.
He was waiting for an answer.
Not a chance, sunshine.
Her issues were her own.
No way was she going to talk to Rafe about the unending guilt that gnawed her insides, seeming to eat away more and more of her every single day.
And it was all her own damned fault.
Because she hadn’t listened, because she knew it all, and because she was so smart and so clever and so full of her own bloody self-importance a man was dead.
She shrugged off the blanket.
‘Ever since he... I... was attacked.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Today’s been stressful. Camera flash tends to trigger it.’
‘Your father hasn’t mentioned this.’
She took shaky a breath, sipped the water.
‘He doesn’t know,’ she admitted.
By his expression she could tell he wasn’t impressed with the news.
Her heart rate steadied.
‘A Monroe does not have panic attacks,’ she told him in a perfect imitation of her father’s voice. She swiped her top lip with the back of her hand. ‘I’m better than I was, therapy helps.’
Rafe shook his head.
She read shock, annoyance and something else in those dark eyes.
‘You need to have a real heart to heart with your father.’
The thought of it made her belly clutch.
Her whole body convulsed with a single shiver in reaction.
‘I know. I’ll do it when I feel up to it.’
He sat next to her, gave her a brotherly hug.
‘Christ, and I’ve just tickled your tonsils.’
Coco found herself managing a shaky laugh at the analogy.
‘I tickled more than your tonsils, Mr Cavendish.’
‘Damn right you did. What are we going to do about it?’
She shook her head.
‘I don’t know whether to stick a white hot needle in your eye or jump you.’
He squeezed her shoulder, pulling her closer and she resisted the crazy urge to crawl back onto his lap.
‘Right back at you.’ He tipped up her chin to study her face. ‘I’m not a patient man, Coco. And you’re testing me.’
She blinked at the look in his eye and told him the honest truth.
‘I don’t want to want you. And I don’t want you to want me either.’
He flashed her a wide grin and she realised the sexual tension that had been sparking in the room had levelled off.
‘At least you admit there is something between us. Progress.’
She narrowed her eyes at the satisfaction in that smile.
‘Don’t look so smug. Wanting and doing are two entirely different things. You had your chance and blew it.’
His brows rose as he took her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.
A move that shot another hot spear of arousal into her system.
‘You were a child.’ Those eyes went soft as he looked at her, reminding her now of dark velvet. ‘You’re not a child now.’ The words, a low throaty purr, had her heart kick before it picked up the pace. ‘Where are Olivia Kandinsky and her son?’
She opened her mouth to tell him, and then closed it with a snap.
Oh he was a smooth operator all right and a clever one too.
She had to admire that.
‘I’ll tell you when you take me home.’
The temper was back in his eyes.
But he said nothing as he stood and closed his suitcase.
While Olivia and her son had been whisked to safety, Coco was attending the opening of the Blue Lagoon Two in front of the world’s media. Anyone snooping around her schedule would see she’d had a jam-packed twenty-four hours. There was nothing to connect her with the disappearance of the Russian’s wife and child.
She followed Rafe as he stalked down the stairs.
Kandinsky might leave no stone unturned to get his family back, but she was confident he’d find nothing to link Louise or her to their disappearance.
The question buzzing around her mind was how Rafe had got wind of the fact they were missing and how the hell he’d connected them to her?
Reaction was setting in now, exhaustion replacing the adrenalin rush.
With a flourish Rafe opened the car door, and she tucked herself into the corner of the back seat.
Chewing on her bottom lip Coco decided she’d get answers once she’d settled him into the guest wing. And hid a little smile from the gimlet gaze searching her face. No point in provoking him further. She would drip-feed him information when necessary.
He was in for a surprise or two that was certain.
Of course, how he would react was quite another matter.
That was the trouble with Rafael Cavendish, you could never tell which way he’d jump.
Chapter Twelve
‘You do not drink alcohol?’
Jacob’s deep voice vibrated through her system. And once again Janine was relieved that she felt absolutely nothing for a spectacular looking man.
‘I’m still breast-feeding Boo. I suppose I could have a small one.’
‘White or red?’
‘I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re having.’
Jacob studied the wine list, gave the waiter the order and then sat back.
His eyes twinkled in appreciation as his dark gaze took a leisurely stroll over her blonde hair, her face and over her simple sleeveless top of ivory silk with it’s pearl beads stitched into the neckline.
Wearing her best skinny designer jeans in black and open toed flat sandals, her sun kissed arms were naked of jewellery except for a simple timepiece in stainless steel and her grandmother’s engagement ring. An emerald set in twenty-two carat gold that sat on the fourth finger of her right hand. Her left hand was bare of her wedding band. She saw his eyes take note before they returned to meet hers.
‘I don’t wear my wedding or engagement rings,’ she stated the obvious and wondered what had possessed her to even mention it. No way was she going to open up that can of worms.
Dark eyes studied her carefully.
Again there was no sliver of awareness, no little tremble in her belly.
‘I imagine they bring back too many happy memories.’
She managed to swallow a bitter laugh.
Happy memories?
If he only knew.
But she smiled anyway. ‘Something like that.’
‘I heard he died in a car accident. What happened?’
Oh God, were they going to exchange life stories?
She hoped not.
But decided to go with the truth.
‘A head on collision. He was killed instantly.’
His brow rose fractionally at her clipped tone.
‘If it is too painful... I apologise...’
‘No,’ she interrupted. And paused while the waiter poured a sample of wine into Jacob’s glass. He inhaled the bouquet, sipped, nodded in approval. Once the waiter had poured them each half a glass and left she continued, ‘We were based in a small Gulf state. Very wealthy, but restrictive on where women could go unaccompanied. I wasn’t permitted to drive. And we didn’t live in the company compound with the rest of the executives and their families. We’d been living there for three months. Anyway, it was a difficult time for me without family or friends as support.’
She’d never tell him or another living soul about the five days she spent in hospital while they patched up her bloodied and bruised body. At first the British consul who helped her ship Connor’s remains home assumed she’d been in the car crash too. It wasn’t until much later that he’d realised the marks were from fists and feet, and worse. Marks made by the man who’d sworn before God to honour, to cherish and to love her until death.
And may God forgive her but death had been a viable get out of life clause that she’d seriously considered before the bastard had been killed. Even now the thought of everything she might have lost had she done the deed and committed suicide made her feel so terribly guilty. She’d never have experienced the joy of having a baby grow inside her, of giving birth, alone, to her beautiful daughter.
Her baby had saved her in so many ways that Janine knew she’d been truly blessed.
How could such a gift have been given to her when her child had been created not out of love but out of rape?
Why on earth was she thinking of such things now when Jacob was staring at her with dark eyes filled to the brim with sympathy, with pity?
If he only knew that she got on her knees and gave thanks every single day that the monster was now dead, cremated. And hopefully burning very brightly in eternal hell.
Jacob’s hand found hers across the table and held on tight.
Her eyes filled at the gesture of support.
What a kind and lovely guy.
‘I am sorry,
querida
. I did not mean to upset you. They say time is a great healer.’
And she could only hope that was true, because these days the night terrors were getting worse instead of better. No matter how hard she tried to forget, to bury herself in work, in the care of her child, the sly voice of her dead husband still whispered too loud and clear in her brain.
Every day was a battle for supremacy in the constant war between her sanity and the internal critic who lived deep inside her psyche.
And Janine was very much afraid that if she didn’t get help, and soon, the dark dog of depression would win. The trouble was she didn’t know where to start to get the help she so badly needed.
The stark terror of losing her child held her too tightly in its grip.
If she went to her general practitioner he was legally obliged to report a vulnerable woman and her child to the authorities. If she ever lost her daughter it would finish her. She had thought of unburdening herself to Bronte. But at the moment her friend was struggling with running a super successful business, motherhood, and being married to a very demanding Nico Ferranti.
Poor Bronte, Janine shivered.
She couldn’t imagine anything worse than being tied to a man like Nico.
And as far as she was concerned he fell right into the category of being over-controlling and far too dominant. Oh, she knew her friend was blissfully happy, at the moment. But Janine was under no illusions that if Bronte ever got on the bad side of her husband, he would make life very difficult for her friend.