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

She shook her head. ‘If you think, because of what happened last night, that I’m going to sleep with you later, then—’

‘Cairo, the invitation was for dinner, not bed,’ he cut in firmly.

‘Yes …’ She eyed him suspiciously.

‘Although I doubt I would be averse to the idea later on if you were to—’

‘I won’t!’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Then I guess I’ll settle for dinner.’

She sighed. ‘Okay, Rafe, I’ll come out to dinner with you. But only,’ she continued as he would have smiled, ‘if you promise me never to mention that embarrassing incident with the wine ever again.’

‘You mean, the incident where you threw off all your clothes and—’

‘Yes—that incident!’ she glared.

‘Fine.’ It was difficult for Rafe to hold the smile back this time. ‘I promise I’ll never—ever—mention that night we had dinner in my hotel room eight years ago and you stripped off and tipped cream all over your—well, all over you—and then offered yourself as dessert—’ He broke off, laughing now when Cairo began to pummel his chest with her fists, and was still grinning even as he held both her hands in his. ‘It was the best dessert I ever had,’ he told her throatily.

It was very hard to remain annoyed with him when he gave her that heart-melting smile, Cairo thought in despair. Especially when she also remembered the night in question—how could she ever forget it? It was the most wildly erotic night….

Which meant it also wasn’t a good idea to let Rafe continue to hold her hands in his. Or to look into those sky-blue eyes that seduced her with only a glance. Or to allow him to draw her, slowly, purposefully, towards him—

‘No, Rafe!’ She broke that seductive spell as she straightened away from him, pulling her hands out of his grasp as she did so. ‘I said dinner and I meant just dinner!’

‘Pity,’ he murmured lazily.

She gave him a reproving look. ‘If you would like to sit here and finish your wine, I just need to go to my room to freshen up before we go out.’

Although she’d agreed to the lesser of two evils—going out to a restaurant with Rafe rather than having him stay on here—it still wasn’t a good idea, Cairo told herself as she shut her bedroom door firmly behind her and leant back against it.

What game was Rafe playing now?

Whatever it was, she couldn’t allow it to continue!

‘How on earth did you manage to get a table here at such short notice— No, don’t tell me.’ Cairo gave a wry smile. ‘You’re Rafe Montero.’

Rafe studied her across the table in what was a very exclusive London restaurant. ‘I really wish you wouldn’t say my name as if it’s some sort of expletive,’ he drawled ruefully. ‘Besides,’ he continued lightly, ‘there has to be some compensation to losing every vestige of your privacy just because you chose acting as a career.’

Cairo gave him a considering look, coolly beautiful in the green figure-hugging, knee-length dress she had changed into after freshening-up, her red hair long and silky. ‘I never realized it bothered you.’

He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t a problem when we were on the Isle of Man. Since the film studio opened up there in the late nineties the islanders have become used to celebrities walking down Strand Street, and they pretty well take it in their stride. Most other places it can be a problem, though. That’s the reason exclusive restaurants like this one are so popular with people like you and me. Everyone’s a celebrity, so no one stares.’

No, Cairo acknowledged, no one was staring. Now. But the two of them had caused quite a stir when they’d arrived together half an hour ago, probably because of all the publicity about them in the English newspapers this morning….

Rafe gave her a quizzical glance. ‘Do you ever regret becoming so well known?’

Did she? She could quite well have done without all the publicity that had surrounded her separation and divorce the last ten months. But otherwise …? No, probably not.

‘It goes with the job, I suppose,’ she said, before taking a sip of the pink champagne Rafe had ordered. A drink he had first introduced her to on the Isle of Man …

‘And do you enjoy the job as much as you thought you would?’

‘Sorry?’ It was impossible for Cairo to miss the slight edge that had entered his tone.

Rafe shrugged. ‘When you were twenty, you were pretty determined to make a name for yourself. At any price, apparently,’ he added bitterly.

She put her champagne glass carefully back down on the table. ‘Rafe, if you’re going to start being insulting again, then I shall have to leave.’

‘I’ve always assumed your ambition was the reason you married Bond so quickly and moved to the States with him.’ He sat back in his chair, his gaze hooded as he looked across the table at her. ‘Although I still have no idea why you agreed to talk to him when he came to the villa …’ he added speculatively.

Cairo’s mouth tightened. ‘Rafe, you either desist in pursuing this subject or I will leave!’

‘I’m just interested, Cairo,’ he said. ‘After all, we have to talk about something while we eat,’ he added lightly as their first course was brought to the table.

Cairo waited until the waiter had left before answering Rafe. ‘I do not want to talk about Lionel. Not his visit to the villa yesterday or anything to do with my marriage and divorce.’ Unless Rafe wanted her to end up with indigestion! ‘Why don’t we discuss why it is you’ve never married, instead?’ she added challengingly as she picked up her fork and began to eat her prawns.

Rafe smiled. ‘I already told you, that’s much less interesting.’

‘Because you’ve never met the right woman,’ Cairo taunted. ‘And do you really believe that there’s a right woman or right man for everyone?’

‘Don’t you?’ Rafe had believed at one time that he had found the right woman for him. But, as it had turned out, he obviously hadn’t been the right man for her….

Cairo shook her head. ‘I think it’s probably wiser—safer—to opt to be with someone of a similar background, career and interests.’

‘Like you and Bond, you mean?’

Colour warmed her cheeks. ‘Rafe—’

‘Or you and me,’ he added softly.

No, not like her and Rafe! As Cairo had learnt to her cost, she and Rafe had ultimately had absolutely nothing in common. Except a physical awareness that Cairo could feel even now….

Because no matter how she might try to deny it—to ignore it!—last night had only increased her awareness of everything about Rafe, from the silky glossiness of his hair down to the slender elegance of his feet.

She put her fork back down on her plate, her appetite having completely deserted her. ‘No, not like you and me,’ she denied huskily. ‘I think it’s time that I left, Rafe—’

‘Run away, you mean?’ he bit out caustically.

Her eyes flashed darkly. ‘I’m not running away.’

‘Sure you are. It’s what you do—it’s what you’ve always done,’ he said grimly.

Her throat tightened painfully. ‘I should have known your earlier pleasantness wouldn’t last.’

‘Because you obviously prefer a man with no ba—’

‘How dare you?’ Cairo gasped.