Hot Nights with a Spaniard: Bedded for the Spaniard's Pleasure / Spanish Aristocrat, Forced Bride / Spanish Magnate, Red-Hot Revenge

It certainly wasn’t the time for Cairo to remonstrate with either of them for failing to tell her of Rafe’s ownership of the villa and his subsequent surprise arrival!

Rafe had brought in Daisy’s small suitcase so that the little girl could return home with her father, leaving Cairo with the uncomfortable feeling he was going to insist on driving her to her flat. A feeling that was confirmed a short time later as he took his leave of Margo and Jeff at the same time as Cairo did, his hand firmly on her elbow as they walked down the carpeted corridor together.

‘I’m sure you have somewhere else to go, Rafe, so—’

‘Don’t even think about trying to get rid of me just yet,’ Rafe warned softly as he pushed the door open for her to go outside into the early evening sunshine. ‘In fact, why don’t the two of us go out to dinner? You weren’t expecting to be back in England for several more days, so you won’t have anything in your apartment for us to eat,’ he reasoned.

Cairo frowned up at him as he unlocked the doors of the sporty black car. ‘Despite what you seem to have assumed to the contrary, it was never my intention to have dinner with you this evening, either at my flat or anywhere else!’

He gave a mocking smile as he opened her door for her. ‘That isn’t very friendly of you, Cairo, after I’ve gone to the trouble of transporting you back to England so quickly and efficiently.’

‘It wasn’t just me, Rafe, you also transported yourself and Daisy back….’

‘Ah, but as you pointed out earlier today, I really needed to stay in Cannes. I don’t even have a hotel reservation for tonight yet …’ He quirked dark brows at her.

Cairo glared at him. ‘That’s your problem, Rafe, not mine.’

‘I’m sure you could make it yours, too, if you really wanted to….’

She stared at him in disbelief. Was Rafe actually flirting with her? It certainly seemed as if he was!

‘But I really don’t want to,’ Cairo told him dryly. ‘So could you either give me my suitcase from the boot of the car so that I can get a taxi home, or drive me there yourself?’

‘I’m driving you there myself, of course,’ Rafe stated.

Cairo continued to eye him suspiciously as she slid into the passenger seat, not trusting him in this mood at all.

But what could he do, really? She didn’t even have to invite him into her flat if—

There was no ‘if’ about it—she wasn’t going to invite Rafe into her flat at all!

‘Very nice,’ Rafe murmured approvingly as he stood in the hallway looking at the simplicity of the sitting-room in Cairo’s apartment, liking the cream carpet and terracotta-coloured suite, the paintings on the walls all bright and cheerful, too.

Cairo stood firmly in the doorway blocking his entrance to the room. ‘Okay, Rafe, you’ve delivered my suitcase, as you insisted on doing,’ she bit out, still irritated that she had lost that particular argument. ‘Now it’s time for you to leave.’

He put the case down. ‘You could show your gratitude by offering me a glass of wine….’

Her foot tapped impatiently. ‘I was quite capable of carrying my own suitcase!’

‘I’m sure you’re quite capable of doing most things yourself, Cairo, but my father brought me up to be a Spanish gentleman. And carrying a lady’s bags for her is one of the things a Spanish gentleman does.’

Cairo wasn’t fooled for a moment by this explanation; Rafe had been determined to wangle an invitation into her flat from the start. She just wasn’t sure why….

‘Very well.’ She sighed heavily. ‘Would you care for a glass of wine, Rafe?’

‘How kind of you to offer, Cairo,’ he accepted sarcastically, before stepping past her into the sitting-room.

Leaving Cairo no choice but to follow him! ‘Red or white?’ she offered, more than a touch disgruntled.

‘Red would be fine, thanks. Have you lived here for very long?’ he asked as he made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs.

‘Six months or so,’ Cairo answered distractedly as she took a bottle of red wine from the rack and uncorked it before pouring some of the wine into two glasses. ‘Here.’ She thrust one under Rafe’s nose.

Blue eyes glinted with mockery as he looked up at her before taking the glass, his fingers lightly brushing against hers as he did so….

Cairo made no effort to sit down herself but instead walked over to look out of the window high above the London skyline as she slowly sipped her own wine, all the time aware of that intense blue gaze on the rigidity of her back.

‘For goodness’ sake, relax, Cairo.’ Rafe finally sighed into the tense silence.

How was she supposed to do that when Rafe was in her flat?

This was her space, the first place she could completely call her own for over eight years. And Rafe’s presence was a definite intrusion on that solitude.

‘Nice view.’

Cairo almost dropped her glass of wine at the close proximity of Rafe’s voice, turning to glare at him as he stood beside her, his tread having been so soft on the carpet she hadn’t realized he had joined her in front of the window. ‘I like it,’ she snapped irritably.

‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be drinking on a relatively empty stomach,’ Rafe commented; Cairo hadn’t eaten any breakfast at all, and only a sandwich for lunch.

‘The wine was your idea—’

‘For you to offer me a glass,’ he corrected. ‘You know what happens if you drink wine and you haven’t had enough to eat,’ he reminded her huskily.

‘I know what happened once, Rafe. Just once,’ she reiterated firmly, the blush on her cheeks telling him she remembered the incident only too well.

‘Hmm.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ she challenged.

Rafe had forgotten what fun it was to tease Cairo. How she got that light of battle in her eyes. The angry blush to her cheeks. Her mouth set in that stubborn line.

He took the remaining half-glass of wine from her fingers and placed it on a bookshelf with his own. ‘Come out to dinner with me tonight, Cairo,’ he invited gruffly.

She blinked up at him uncertainly. ‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’ she breathed huskily, but with much less conviction in her voice.

Rafe held her gaze with his as he gave her a quizzical smile. ‘Because I’m a stranger in town—’

‘You’re Rafe Montero—you could ask any woman to have dinner with you and she would drop anything else she had planned just to be there!’

‘The one I’m asking right now doesn’t have anything else planned—and yet she’s refusing.’

‘Rafe—’

‘Cairo?’

‘You really are—’ She broke off frustratedly. ‘Why do you want me to have dinner with you?’

He shrugged. ‘Because we both have to eat this evening and we may as well do it together.’