Illegitimate Tycoon (10 page)

 
          
“Don’t
be too sure of that!” she’d quipped, though inside she’d agreed.

 
          
He
was her other half. The one person she’d trusted with her life—her future. Her
secrets.

 
          
She’d
known immediately that Rafael was everything she’d dreamed of having in a
husband. Determined. Charming. Fun. And oh so sexy.

 
          
He
was everything she could ever want for in a lover. For the first time in her
life she’d felt sexy, a major improvement, for when she looked at herself in a
mirror, she saw a woman who was neither pretty nor plain. A woman lacking any
remarkable feature. A woman who felt as lost as she often looked on film.

 
          
Yet
he’d never ordered her about, never forced his will on her. Instead he’d
allowed her the right to do what she’d been denied as a child—to play. To make
believe.

 
          
Two
months after meeting him, they married. A very private ceremony in Rio that her
mother had hated, for it had robbed that bitter woman of basking in the
limelight of a media wedding.

 
          
Leila
smiled at the memory, clearly remembering

 
          
Rafael
and herself rushing from the small church in Rio to the waiting car.

 
          
Just
like now she’d had no idea where Rafael was taking them. But she hadn’t cared.
She was with the man she adored, and together they were embarking on a lifelong
journey together. Together they would make beautiful love and babies.

 
          
How
naive she’d been not to realize they’d face obstacles along the way. That the
damaging effects of the anorexia she’d battled in her youth would threaten to
steal her glorious dreams from her.

 
          
“You
are awfully quiet,” he said. “I was thinking of our wedding day and honeymoon.”

 
          
He
said nothing for the longest time, but she noted his fingers tightened on the
steering wheel. Noticed that a muscle along his jaw grew taut.

 
          
“I
regret I could only give you a poor man’s tour,” he said, his admission
surprising her.

 
          
Was
he serious? Did he really think that she wanted or needed to live lavishly?

 
          
“I
certainly don’t,” she said, and gained a doubting frown from him before he
turned his attention back to the winding road. “I reached superstardom at a
young age, Rafael, and was under my controlling mother’s rule for some time, as
you know. I’d had my fill of extravagance by the time I’d turned eighteen.”

 
          
“That
is good to hear,
querida
.”

 
          
“It’s
the truth.”

 
          
She
and Rafael had enjoyed a very simple honeymoon. They’d taken an auto tour of
Europe, a leisurely journey where they had shunned tourist traps in favor of
exploring each other in sensual detail in a staggering assortment of villas, châteaus,
apartments and yachts.

 
          
What
sightseeing they’d done had been just as laid-back. It had been the first time
in her life that she’d totally relaxed. That she’d been someone beside the
sought-after model.

 
          
Yet
when their honeymoon was over, the real world had intruded. Her and Rafael’s
careers had become more demanding as time wore on.

 
          
Now
here they were after a horrid year apart, her burdened with guilt and he
expecting her to embrace the one thing that terrified her.

 
          
He
parked in the harbor lot and pulled a small hamper she hadn’t seen from behind
his seat.

 
          
“Ready?”

 
          
“For
a picnic? Of course.”

 
          
“Good.
If we hurry, we can catch the ferry to Île Sainte-Marguerite.”

 
          
She
blinked, her gaze traveling across the sea to the small archipelago. “Isn’t
that one of the places we stayed on our honeymoon?”

 
          
“It
is. You asked for peace and quiet, and this was the first place that I thought
of.”

 
          
What
a wonderfully romantic surprise! She pressed a hand to her pounding heart, so
touched that tears sprang to her eyes.

 
          
“It’s
perfect.”

 
          
“I
am pleased that you like it,” he said, and hurried her down the wharf to the
waiting ferry.

 
          
Fifteen
minutes later they set foot on the jeweled island. “Are you up for a hike?”

 
          
It
was as if history were repeating itself. “Of course.”

 
          
She
slipped her hand in his and let him lead her down to the coastal pathway lined
with botanicals. For over an hour they walked quietly along the pathway, admiring
the gorgeous scenery and laughing at the songs from the migratory birds
clustered in the trees. The aroma of lavender, eucalyptus and an array of
exotic flowers perfumed the air, while the peaceful quiet of the island soothed
her soul.

 
          
Through
the occasional breaks in the forest she could glimpse Fort Royal, but though
the scenery was spectacular, she had difficulty taking her eyes off Rafael for
long. This closeness between them was what she’d so desperately missed. Telling
him now would be the right thing to do, the perfect timing, yet she knew that
the truth would shatter this wonderful moment.

 
          
Right
now she simply wanted to enjoy the day with Rafael. To remember the good times
they had once shared and not be plagued by the guilt that rested heavy on her.
So once again she tucked those errant thoughts away.

 
          
They
prowled the old jail, and she laughed as he threatened to lock her up and have
his way with her.

 
          
They
walked hand in hand in companionable silence and at that moment she’d never
felt closer to him. It was so easy to pretend all was perfect in their lives.

 
          
The
trail opened onto a secluded cove where the glimmering turquoise sea lapped
gently against the shore. “How beautiful.”

 
          
“Indeed
so. This would be the perfect place for our picnic,” he said.

 
          
When
was the last time he’d taken her on a picnic? Years ago, she was sure, for
recently they had never had time for each other.

 
          
He
spread a blanket while she kicked off her slings, the sand warm under her feet.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d be hungry for so I asked the hotel to arrange a
sampling of light fare. They suggested rosé wine, but I remembered you had
liked the sparkling French lemonade when we were here.”

 
          
“It
was wonderful,” she said, touched at his thoughtfulness.

 
          
Not
that her memory was less dim. She could clearly remember him on their honeymoon
picnic here as well, how his ravenous appetite had made her giggle, how the
wind had tossed his thick curly hair until it was an unruly mop.

 
          
How
they’d lain on the beach and kissed passionately, working themselves into a
fever that had sent them rushing back to their hotel.

 
          
“It
appears we have cold roast chicken and Provençal salad,” he proclaimed as he
removed the items from the hamper. “And for dessert, fresh fruit tarts and
grapes.”

 
          
To
her surprise her stomach actually growled. Her appetite had been nil of late,
but today she was ravenous. For food. For Rafael.

 
          
“Me
thinks the lady is in dire need of sustenance,” he joked, and held a piece of
savory roasted chicken to her lips.

 
          
“Mmm,”
she said as she ate from his hand, and then curled her tongue around his finger
and drew it into her mouth, drawing deeply before nipping the flesh.

 
          
His
dark eyes smoldered with sensual energy and an erotic growl rumbled from him. “Leila
…”

 
          
“You
taught me everything I know about seduction, Rafael.”

 
          
One
dark eyebrow winged up in sharp rebuke, but the twitch of his lips proved the
chastisement was all for show. “Everything,
querida?”

 
          
She
laughed, breaking the seductive spell, as she poured lemonade for them into
tall glasses while he sprawled on his back, his devastating smile fixed on her.
“I might have thought up a few things on my own.”

 
          
“Experimenting,
eh?”

 
          
She
tried to mimic one of his careless shrugs. “Want to play guinea pig?”

 
          
He
levered himself up, his lips mere inches from hers. “With you, I am game for
anything.”

 
          
Before
she could guess if he was joking or serious, he pressed his lips to hers. Once.
Twice. Nothing more than teasing kisses that heated her blood and had her
straining toward him for more.

 
          
“I’m
starving,” he said, pulling away from her when she would have preferred kissing
him to eating.

 
          
But
that too soon became an erotic treat for her senses. They sat facing each other
and savored their lunch, each pausing from time to time to feed the other.

 
          
“I
regret that we haven’t done this more often over the years,” he said as he
glided a finger over her brows, along the shell of her ear and down her neck. “Though
I don’t think I could be the observer at another shoot like this last one.”

 
          
Her
skin pebbled even as her blood heated. “Was it that boring for you?”

 
          
He
released a rough laugh. “It was agony watching you stretch and reach for your
imaginary lover on that couch,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky timbre
that stroked over her flesh like an erotic caress.

 
          
How
could he say such a thing when his hand was causing her undue agony? When she’d
focused so intently on only him during that shoot that her own body had nearly
betrayed her desire?

 
          
“I’m
sorry you disliked it.”

 
          
“On
the contrary,
querida
. I ached to go
to you, to cover you.” He pressed a kiss on the side of her neck, then took a
teasing nibble, and she couldn’t contain her moan of pleasure. “To strip you of
that scrap of gold cloth and make love with you.”

 
          
A
mewling sound escaped her lips, eliciting another sultry growl from him. She’d
worked hard to emulate that beckoning look. But she hadn’t been able to master
it until a wise photographer had told her to envision her lover standing in the
wings, watching.

 
          
When you see him in your mind’s eye, make
love to the camera
.

 
          
And
so she had.

 
          
But
that feeling of satisfaction was nothing compared to truly being in Rafael’s
arms right now.

 
          
His
eyes had turned a glittering black, searching, questioning. His beautiful mouth
was just inches from hers. So close she could almost taste him.

 
          
“Meu amor,”
he said, before his mouth
swooped down on hers, hungry, demanding.