Forbidden Seductions: His Forbidden Passion / Craving the Forbidden / Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger

Ever since her grandfather’s guests started arriving, she’d been aware of their interest and speculation. Aware, too, that many of the whispered conversations, taking place behind discreetly raised glasses, concerned her and her likeness not just to her mother, but to her father, as well.

Not that anyone had mentioned it to her. They’d all been very cordial, very polite. Though she couldn’t exactly call them friendly.

Which was probably due to the fact that Dominic’s mother had stood glaring at her all evening, making her attitude towards her father-in-law’s behaviour all too obvious.

‘At last,’ she heard her grandfather mutter now, and guessed Dominic’s late arrival was what he meant. ‘Where the devil has he been?’ he demanded of no one in particular. ‘I told him I wanted him to be here to welcome our guests.’

Cleo thought she had an idea why his grandson’s arrival had been delayed. The way the young woman with him was hanging on his arm was a fair indication, and she was sure they’d shared more than a car ride here.

Whatever, it was nothing to do with her, she assured herself fiercely. She’d be going back to England before too long and then she’d never see any of them again.

Not surprisingly, Dominic made a beeline for his grandfather, only stopping briefly along the way when one or other of Jacob’s guests spoke to him.

With an easy confidence Cleo could only envy, he parried all their greetings with a rueful aside or a laughing retort, leaving an admiring group of men as well as women in his wake.

Sarah, who’d been forced to let go of his arm, followed him across the terrace. In a strapless, sequin-studded mini-dress, that suited her petite figure, she was every bit as glamorous as Cleo had anticipated Dominic’s girlfriend would be.

Certainly, her outfit was far more expensive than the simple jade slip dress Cleo was wearing; her skin with that delicate look of porcelain, that made Cleo’s skin look almost dusky.

‘Hey, Grandpa!’ Dominic exclaimed when he reached them, squatting down beside the old man’s chair, his expression rueful. ‘I guess I’m in the doghouse, yeah?’

Jacob gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘That depends what you’ve got to say for yourself,’ he declared drily. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘Sarah’s car broke down,’ Dominic replied without hesitation, and Cleo felt her own jaw drop at the total incredulity of his excuse.

‘Say what?’ Jacob stared at him. ‘Can’t you do better than that, boy?’

‘It’s true,’ said Dominic, glancing up into Cleo’s doubtful face.

Obviously she didn’t believe him either, he thought, wishing it didn’t matter to him. Then, straightening, he turned to Sarah, ‘Do you want to tell them or shall I?’

‘Oh…’ Sarah pouted prettily, and Cleo wondered it if was possible to hate someone when you’d never even been introduced to them. ‘Well, Nelson—that’s my father’s chauffeur, Mr Montoya—’

‘Yes, I know who Nelson Buffett is,’ Jacob interrupted her shortly, and with a little sigh she went on.

‘Well, Nelson thought Daddy had put gas in the car and Daddy thought Nelson had.’ She spread her hands innocently. ‘It turns out, neither of them had.’

‘So you ran out of gas?’

‘Yes.’

Sarah nodded, her eyes drifting irresistibly to Cleo, and Dominic realised he was being damnably ignorant in not introducing them.

But he was loath to do it. Cleo looked so beautiful this evening, and he was unwilling to give Sarah a chance to hurt her feelings as his mother had done.

Instead, he turned back to his grandfather. ‘Hey, it was lucky we weren’t travelling together,’ he said, and saw the way Cleo’s eyes widened again. ‘I came along about ten minutes later in the SUV and I offered to go and get some gas for them.’

Jacob sniffed. ‘And couldn’t young Buffett have phoned the garage and had them bail him out?’ he asked, and once again Sarah joined in.

‘He did ring the garage in San Clemente, Mr Montoya, but there’s nobody there at this time of the evening. And we couldn’t leave poor Nelson to walk home, could we?’

Jacob grimaced. ‘I suppose not,’ he said grudgingly. He looked up at Cleo. ‘I guess we’re going to have to forgive him, eh, my dear? Oh, and by the way, you haven’t met Dominic’s girlfriend, have you?’ He paused. ‘This is Sarah, Cleo. Why don’t you ask her what she’d like to drink?’

Sarah’s polite words belied the flush of irritation that stained her cheeks. ‘I’ve been here often enough to get my own drink, thank you. Or Dom can get it, can’t you, darling?’ She linked her arm with his again. ‘How do you do—er—Cleo? Are you enjoying your stay at Magnolia Hill?’

‘Very much,’ Cleo was beginning, when her grandfather caught her hand in both of his.

‘We’re hoping she might consider making her home on San Clemente,’ he said, in a voice that carried right across the terrace. ‘Isn’t that right, Dom? You’re all for it, aren’t you?’

The old devil!

Dominic’s teeth ground together for a moment. The old man knew he’d never discussed any such thing, despite his suspicions of what Jacob had in mind.

But before he could make any response, Cleo said awkwardly, ‘I don’t think we’ve ever talked about that—er—Jacob.’ She refused to call him ‘Grandfather’ in front of all these people, even if that was the way she was beginning to think of him. ‘I certainly don’t think this is the time or the place—’

‘Nonsense!’ But Jacob seemed to realise he’d embarrassed her and he patted her hand reassuringly. ‘We’ll leave it for now.’ He glanced round. ‘Now where’s Luella with the canapés? I told her I wanted them serving as soon as all the guests had arrived.’

There was a significant relaxing of the atmosphere as Jacob got determinedly to his feet. Refusing the help of either his grandson or his granddaughter, he stomped off towards the buffet tables that were set up beneath a sheltering canopy.

Catching Cleo’s eye, Dominic realised that she was more upset by what had happened than either himself or Sarah. He was used to his grandfather’s blunt way of speaking, but Cleo wasn’t, and, detaching himself from Sarah’s clinging hands, he said, ‘Come on. I’ll get us all a drink.’ He nodded towards Cleo’s glass. ‘Is that a pina colada?’

‘This?’ Cleo was taken aback. ‘Um—no. It’s just pineapple juice,’ she said, aware of Sarah’s displeasure at this turn of events. ‘And I don’t need another drink, thank you.’

‘Well, I do,’ said Dominic flatly. And before he’d given any thought to his actions, he’d gripped Cleo’s elbow with a decisive hand and turned her towards the bar set up beside the swimming pool.

He regretted it instantly. He hadn’t forgotten how soft her skin was, or erased the memory of her scent, that tonight was a mixture of musk and spice and some tropical fragrance. But he had blanked it from his mind.

Now, however, it was back, more potent than before.

The side of her breast was so warm and sexy against his suddenly moist fingers. And if she was wearing a bra, it was doing little to hide the way her nipples had peaked and were pressing unrestrainedly against the thin fabric of her dress.

Oh, God!

His arousal was as painful as it was inappropriate. With Sarah—the girl he’d brought to the party, dammit—following closely behind, he had no right to be feeling as if the ground was shifting beneath his feet.

Yet it was. And, heaven knew, he wanted to touch Cleo. Not as he was touching her now, but privately, intimately. To bury his hands in her silky hair and bury another part of his body—that was hot and hard and pulsing with life—in some place equally soft, but tight and wet as well.

He wondered if she’d heard his hoarse intake of breath, the surely audible pounding of his heart. She must have felt his fingers tightening almost involuntarily, because she turned to look at him, her eyes almost as wide and elemental as his own.

He abruptly let her go, surging ahead to where a handful of waiters tended the comprehensive array of drinks his grandfather had provided.

‘Scotch,’ he said without hesitation. ‘No. No ice. Just as it is.’ Then he raised the single malt to his lips and swallowed half of it before turning to address the two girls.

Cleo was wishing she’d accompanied her grandfather, after all. She was far too aware of Dominic, far too conscious of the fact that in other circumstances she wouldn’t have wanted him to let her go.

Everything about him disturbed her: from the lean, muscular strength of his body to the intensely masculine perfume of his skin.

When he’d taken her arm, his heat had surrounded her. The hardness of his fingers gripping her arm had felt almost possessive. She’d wanted to rub herself against him, like a cat that was wholly sensitive to his touch.