This wasn’t real, she recognised achingly as she stared down at him in the moonlight. This madness with Rafe, the two of them being intimate like this, it wasn’t real. It never had been.

Not eight years ago. And not now either.

“Cairo…?” Rafe questioned huskily, as he obviously felt her withdrawal.

This wasn’t real, she told herself again as she began to tremble in reaction. She shook her head. “We can’t ever do this again, Rafe.” Her voice broke emotionally.

“Why the hell not?” He rasped his disappointment.

“I— We just can’t!” Cairo cried, not even knowing how she was going to escape from this with dignity.

Minutes ago she had been in ecstasy, totally lost to reason, but now she could see this for exactly what it was. A purely physical attraction—at least on Rafe’s part. Cairo was very much afraid that for her—as it had been eight years ago—it was something totally different.

She stared at Rafe, at his dark beauty, her eyes widening with horror as she realised that despite everything she was still in love with him.

Had she ever really stopped loving him?

Carole Mortimer was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written over one hundred and forty books for Harlequin Mills and Boon. Carole has four sons— Matthew, Joshua, Timothy and Peter—and a bearded collie called Merlyn. She says, ‘I’m happily married to Peter senior; we’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live in a lovely part of England.’

Look out for Carole’s first Historical Romance novel, set in the glamorous world of high society Regency England, out next month. One gorgeous rake, one poor plain Jane, one scandalous affair—don’t miss out!

BEDDED FOR
THE SPANIARD’S
PLEASURE

BY

CAROLE MORTIMER

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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CHAPTER ONE

‘CAN I help— You!’ Cairo’s pleasant query broke off in a gasp, and she came to a startled halt in the driveway as she easily recognized the man stepping out of the car a short distance away.

No!

This couldn’t be!

This man could not be here, of all places!

Cairo had been lazing beside the pool, sunbathing, when she’d seen the silver car slowly moving up the winding, narrow road with access only to this villa in the South of France. She had already been on her feet and pulling on a thigh-length black T-shirt over her bikini when she’d heard the car stop outside. Forcing down her irritation at this intrusion, she had hurried towards the driveway to tell the driver that they had obviously lost their way.

But nothing—nothing!—could have prepared her for the man who now stood beside the car, sunglasses pushed up into the dark silkiness of his hair, as he looked across the car’s bonnet at her through narrowed lids.

If she was surprised to see him, then he looked no more pleased to see her, his mouth tightening grimly even as he lifted a hand to move the sunglasses back into place over those eyes of sky-blue.

‘Cairo,’ he greeted her with a terse nod of his head.

Cairo couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. In fact, this whole situation felt completely unreal!

‘Cat got your tongue, Cairo?’ he taunted in his huskily familiar transatlantic drawl, dark brows quirked above those sunglasses. ‘Or maybe it’s just been so long that you don’t remember me?’ he taunted.

Not remember him…?

Of course Cairo remembered him!

It might be eight years since she had so much as set eyes on this man, but what women ever—truthfully!—forgot her very first lover? No, Cairo had never completely forgotten Raphael Antonio Miguel Montero. How could she have, when Rafe Montero was the half-American, half- Spanish A-list actor who had been known all over the world for the last fifteen years, and more recently as director of the Oscar-winning film Work of Art?

He regarded her coldly now. ‘Do you really have nothing to say to me, Cairo?’

‘I said all that I needed to say to you the last time we met!’ she snapped, even as she desperately tried to make sense of the fact that Rafe was here at all, at this remote villa situated in the hills above the picturesque town of Grasse.

Rafe grimaced as he moved to the back of the car. ‘It’s been so long I’ve forgotten,’ he drawled before lifting up the boot of the car to begin taking bags from inside and placing them beside him on the driveway.

Cairo could only stand and stare at the man who had once filled her twenty-year-old heart, as well as her bed.

Now aged in his late thirties, if anything Rafe was even more devastatingly—sinfully!—handsome than he had been eight years ago. He was well over six feet tall, his dark hair was brushed back from his face, the natural swarthiness of the skin he had inherited from his Spanish father adding density to those mesmerizing sky-blue eyes set in a ruggedly chiselled face. His long aquiline nose and curved lips were set above a square jaw that had what most women called either a cleft or a dimple in its centre—but all agreed was sexy as hell. And the black polo shirt and faded denims he wore emphasized the muscled width of his shoulders, tapered waist and lean powerful thighs above long, long legs.

Cairo shook her head. All of this was very well, but none of it explained what he was doing here, taking luggage from the boot of his car! ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

He straightened. ‘Moving in, of course. Grab a bag, hmm, Cairo?’ He slung the bag containing his laptop over his shoulder and picked up the two small suitcases, leaving only a holdall sitting on the driveway.

‘Grab a—? Rafe, you can’t just— What do you mean, you’re moving in?’ she repeated incredulously.

‘Exactly what I said.’ He shrugged those broad shoulders as he strode towards her.

Cairo instinctively took a step back. ‘I— But— You can’t!’

‘Why can’t I?’ he asked calmly.

‘Because—because—’

‘Stop babbling, Cairo, and bring the bag in.’ He didn’t so much as pause in those long strides that were rapidly taking him towards the villa.

Towards Cairo’s haven of tranquillity after months, years, of never knowing a moment’s peace. A peace that Rafe Montero had destroyed the moment he got out of his car!

She hurried to catch up with him and then struggled to match her strides to his much longer ones. ‘Rafe, what are you doing here?’

‘I could ask you the same question,’ he countered without so much as glancing at her. ‘Where are Margo and Jeff?’

‘They aren’t here,’ she replied.

Although Cairo was beginning to wish they were—her sister and her husband might have some explanation as to what Rafe Montero was doing here at their holiday villa!

‘No?’ He arched those dark brows again. ‘Have they gone out for the day or just shopping locally?’

‘Neither.’ Cairo shook her head exasperatedly. ‘Rafe, will you just stop and tell me what’s going on?’ Her voice rose in agitation as she came to a halt, her hands clenched tightly in frustration on the narrowness of her hips.

Rafe slowly placed his luggage inside the front door of the villa before pushing his sunglasses up into his hair once more to look across at Cairo through narrowed lids as he tried to come to terms with her being here.

It had been eight years since he had last seen this woman.

Eight long years.

It was a hell of a shock to suddenly find himself face to face with her again after all that time—

A shock?

Dammit, he was still reeling!

If anything, Cairo Vaughn was even more beautiful. Perhaps a little too thin, he allowed with a slight frown, those almost six feet of curves very willowy now. But her hair was still that long tumbling red, and her legs were still long and shapely beneath the black thigh-length T-shirt. Her face was thinner, too, emphasizing the delicate curve of high cheekbones beneath chocolate-brown eyes, her nose small and straight, but her lips were as full and pouting above the stubborn set of her small, pointed chin as they’d ever been.

Although her cheeks were healthily flushed with temper at the moment, those chocolate-brown eyes looking ready to shoot flames! It made her look more like the famous actress she was than the pale woman whose photograph had been on the front page of the newspapers for months during her very public divorce.

It was none of his business, Rafe told himself grimly. Just as Cairo herself was none of his business, either.

‘So where are Margo and Jeff?’ he asked again. He had a few things he would like to say to the other couple concerning the fact that neither of them had warned him that Cairo was going to be here!

‘I told you, they aren’t here,’ Cairo repeated exasperatedly.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. ‘At all?’

She shook her head. ‘Margo’s doctor has ordered complete bed-rest for the last four weeks of her pregnancy.’

Margo and Jeff weren’t here.

Only Cairo was.

And neither Margo nor Jeff had bothered to let him know that little fact!

What was he supposed to—?

‘Uncle Rafe! Uncle Rafe!’

Rafe just managed to turn in time to catch the small golden-haired bundle dressed in a pink bathing costume as she came hurtling out of the villa and launched herself in his general direction.

Daisy.

Margo and Jeff’s six-year-old daughter.

If Cairo had brought Daisy with her, that probably meant she didn’t have a lover with her, as well. Probably…

‘Mummy said you’d be arriving today!’ Daisy beamed at him excitedly even as he swung her up to hold her in his arms.

To Cairo only one part of Daisy’s statement was relevant. ‘Margo knew you were coming here?’

‘Of course,’ Rafe confirmed as he moved Daisy into the crook of one arm to look across at Cairo with guarded blue eyes.

Cairo could barely breathe. Could barely think.

After the last stressful weeks, months, she had desperately needed to get completely away for a while, to be somewhere where she wasn’t being constantly photographed wherever she went. Which was why she had been only too happy to accept the suggestion her sister Margo had made, when she’d pointed out that as she and Jeff were unable to go on their usual May holiday to the South of France this year, Cairo might like to make use of the villa in their stead.

It had been Cairo’s own idea, with Margo eight months into what was turning out to be a precarious second pregnancy, that as six-year-old Daisy was on half-term holiday anyway, she could take the little girl with her.

It had all gone so smoothly until now, too. None of the press that had hounded Cairo so doggedly the last ten months had been looking for a woman travelling with a little girl of six. Neither had they recognized the actress Cairo Vaughn behind the dark sunglasses and the baseball cap she had worn to hide the fiery length of her hair as she drove onto the train that would take them through the Eurotunnel into France.

It had been a long drive, of course, but the villa, set high in the hills above Grasse, had been a pleasant surprise, a large, sprawling single-storey building that maintained its rusticity at the same time as providing all the amenities they could possibly want, including a huge pool on the lower terrace, and a number of small shops in the local village that would see to their daily needs.

And Daisy had proved a delightful companion, as only a gregarious six-year-old could, as she kept up a constant stream of chatter on the journey here, and then yesterday threw herself into the pool with enthusiasm once they’d finally reached the villa.

In fact, the simplicity of it all had been a wonderful relief to Cairo after so many years of knowing exactly what she would be doing next week, next month, next year!

But never, during any of Cairo’s plans to come to France, had Margo so much as mentioned Rafe Montero. In fact, Cairo hadn’t even known that her sister and brother-in- law were still friends with him.

She gave a puzzled shake of her head. ‘Margo didn’t say anything to me about your coming here.’

‘If it’s any consolation, she didn’t say anything to me about your being here, either,’ Rafe retorted sharply.

‘It isn’t,’ Cairo assured him impatiently. ‘I appreciate that Margo hasn’t been too well recently, but—’

‘Perhaps it might be better if we continued this conversation later,’ Rafe cut in with a pointed glance at Daisy before he turned his blue gaze warningly on Cairo.

A warning Cairo took absolutely no notice of. ‘I really feel we should sort this situation out now, Rafe—’

‘Your feeling is noted, Cairo,’ he acknowledged brusquely.

Noted, and dismissed, Cairo realized indignantly. Had Rafe always been this infuriating? So arrogantly sure of himself and his surroundings that he totally ignored—or just didn’t see or hear!—what anyone else wanted?

Probably, Cairo thought wryly. She had just been too naïve eight years ago, too enthralled by him, too much in love with him, to see it.

Well, she wasn’t now and she wouldn’t let him get away with it.

‘And obviously ignored,’ she snapped. ‘Rafe, I have absolutely no idea what your arrangement was with Margo and Jeff.’ But she certainly intended finding out when she telephoned her sister shortly! ‘But as they’re obviously still in England, there is no way you can expect to continue with your own plans to stay here.’

He quirked dark brows. ‘And just where would you suggest I go instead?’

The hardness in his eyes told her she’d do better to hold back on the reply that she really wanted to make. So instead, Cairo replied, ‘To a hotel, of course.’

‘You really expect me to be able to do that in the week of the Cannes Film Festival?’ he taunted.

‘I— The Cannes Film Festival?’ she repeated slowly.

‘It’s the reason I’m in France at the moment,’ Rafe explained. ‘Work of Art has been put up for several awards.’ He shrugged. ‘As director, I’m expected to make an appearance.’

The Cannes Film Festival, Cairo berated herself in her head. Of course Rafe’s film had been nominated for an award; it had virtually wiped the board at the Oscars earlier in the year.

‘But Cannes is miles away,’ she said stubbornly.

‘So?’

‘So there must be a hotel there where you could stay. It would be much more convenient than being all the way out here, anyway,’ Cairo reasoned firmly.

Rafe’s mouth tightened. ‘I’m sure it’s very kind of you to attempt to rearrange my plans for me in this way, Cairo,’ he bit out sarcastically. ‘But I’ve been travelling for hours now, and certainly have no intention of discussing this any further until I’ve at least taken a swim. What do you say, Daisy-May, shall the two of us go for a swim?’ He smiled affectionately at the little girl as she gave an excited squeal of approval. ‘It would appear you’re outnumbered and outgunned, Cairo,’ Rafe drawled as he put Daisy down on the tarmacked drive and she instantly took hold of his hand to begin pulling him down towards the swimming pool on the lower terrace.

‘But—’

‘Outnumbered and outgunned,’ Rafe repeated softly as he released his hand from Daisy’s to begin pulling his polo shirt over his head, revealing a broad golden expanse of naked chest and shoulders.

Cairo’s mouth went dry and her breath caught in her throat as she found herself unable to look away from the sight of Rafe slowly peeling the shirt from his body.

Eight years ago, she had been intimately familiar with every hard, muscled, beautiful inch of Rafe’s body, from those wide shoulders, across that muscled chest and flat stomach and down to thrusting thighs.

The time since then had only honed that body, with not an ounce of superfluous flesh on his muscled torso. Rafe’s dark hair rested rakishly on his shoulders as he looked across at her with challenging blue eyes. He looked every inch a Spanish conquistador with that mocking smile playing about those chiselled lips. He seemed fully aware that he had rendered Cairo momentarily speechless.

The bastard. He had done that on purpose. Had deliberately—

‘Rafe!’ she gasped as his hand moved with slow deliberation to unfasten the top button of his denims and slowly slide down the zip.

He arched mocking brows. ‘Something wrong, Cairo?’ he taunted.

Something was very wrong!

Eight years ago, the two of them hadn’t exactly parted the best of friends. In fact, the two of them hadn’t seen or spoken to each other again in all that time.

But just to look at him now made Cairo feel breathless, her face hot and flushed. No, all of her felt hot and flushed as she found herself unable to look away from those unfastened denims and the deep V of dark hair that disappeared beneath them.

She moistened dry lips. ‘Daisy, would you pop into the villa and get us some lemonade to drink by the pool?’ She gave her niece what she hoped was a reassuring smile; the muscles in her face didn’t seem to be working properly!

‘You won’t be long, Uncle Rafe?’ Daisy paused to ask wistfully.

‘Two minutes, Daisy-May,’ he promised huskily.

There it was again. That gut feeling that something wasn’t quite right about this situation.

And Cairo knew exactly what it was!

Uncle Rafe.

Daisy-May.

It was obvious from Rafe’s arrival that Margo and Jeff had kept up their friendship with him, but for how long and how well did Daisy know Rafe that the affection between them was so obvious and the little girl addressed him by the honorary title of ‘Uncle’?

And only the family and really close friends ever called Daisy by the affectionate Daisy-May…

Admittedly Cairo had lived mainly in America the last eight years, her visits home infrequent to say the least, but still she would have thought that she would at least have had some idea that her sister and brother-in-law had remained such close friends with Rafe all this time.

Rafe could almost see the disagreeable thoughts racing through Cairo’s head. She was undoubtedly annoyed with Margo and Jeff for putting her in this position in the first place.

He could only guess as to the other couple’s motives for their actions; Margo and Jeff had never made any secret of the fact that they regretted that he and Cairo had parted eight years ago.

That they ‘had parted’! Such simple words to describe such a catastrophic event.

Their last meeting had consisted of a pretty one-sided conversation as Cairo had told him their relationship was over, followed three days later by the announcement of her engagement to Lionel Bond.

A marriage that had now also come to an end.

But Margo and Jeff were whistling in the wind if they thought that little fact was going to make any difference to how Rafe and Cairo felt about each other. Although her obvious determination now to see him leave only made Rafe stubbornly want to do the opposite!

‘Lemonade, Cairo?’ he commented with a grimace. ‘My own preference would have been a glass of wine on the terrace while we gazed out at the view down the valley to the bay of Cannes.’

She glared at him. ‘We aren’t going to be gazing out at anything together, Rafe,’ she snapped. ‘In fact—’

‘I said let’s save the explanations until later, Cairo,’ he reminded her forcefully. ‘For the moment I intend taking a swim with Daisy.’ To prove his point he deliberately slid the zip on his denims the rest of the way before slowly pushing the heavy material down his thighs.

And watched as Cairo’s eyes widened, and then widened even more as she realized his intent, her protest only dying on her lips as she saw that Rafe actually wore black swimming trunks beneath the jeans he had now completely removed.

But that momentary lapse in her protests had shown that she wasn’t as immune to him as she would have him believe, Rafe noted consideringly. Although he had no doubt, as he saw her shoulders straighten with new determination, that if challenged, she would vehemently deny that awareness.

She drew in a deep breath. ‘Rafe, how many times do I have to say it? You are not staying here!’

‘Sure I am,’ he came back easily. ‘We’ll spend the afternoon swimming and sunbathing with Daisy, then later this evening we can all cook dinner together, and then when Daisy is in bed, the two of us can—’

‘We can what, Rafe?’ Cairo cut in sharply, brown eyes glittering in dark warning as she gave an exasperated shake of her head, having thankfully now regrouped after being completely thrown seconds ago when she had believed Rafe was going to strip off to his underpants.

He usually wore the very briefest of underpants, if her memory served her correctly. And she was pretty sure that it did! Not that the swimming trunks were much better, as the thin material clearly outlined every powerful inch of his hips above long, tanned legs.

Her mouth thinned as she looked up and determinedly met his mocking blue gaze. ‘I repeat, Rafe, that the two of us are not going to be doing anything together—not later on this evening when Daisy is in bed, or at any other time!’

‘Do I take it from that remark that you aren’t pleased to see me again, Cairo?’ he murmured throatily.

How had he moved so fast? Cairo wondered slightly dazedly as she suddenly found Rafe was standing only inches away from her, so near she could actually see the pores in the skin of his face. So close that she could actually feel the heat of his body, and smell that clean male smell that was totally Rafe: tangy soap, a lightly elusive aftershave, and a pure animal scent that acted on a woman’s senses like a drug. On her senses like a—

No!

This man had broken her heart eight years ago. He hadn’t just broken it—the womanizing rat had trampled all over it!

Cairo stood her ground as she refused to be intimidated by the close proximity of his near-nakedness, almost eye to eye with him as Rafe was only a couple of inches taller than her own almost six feet. A compatibility in height that had once given them both incredible pleasure as they—

This was not the time to remember that compatibility! What she should be recalling was that in every other way that mattered they had been totally incompatible.

Her mouth tightened. ‘I have no idea what gave you the impression I might be— What are you doing?’ She flinched her head back sharply when he would have reached out and touched her cheek.

Rafe’s gaze narrowed as he saw her purely instinctive response to the move, his hand dropping slowly back to his side. He wondered just what Cairo’s eight-year marriage to Lionel Bond had been like to have caused her to flinch in that way at the merest hint of physical contact.

Unless it was just him that she didn’t want to touch her…?

It was a definite possibility, Rafe acknowledged grimly. The last time he and Cairo had spoken together she had left him in absolutely no doubt that, although she had enjoyed their relationship while it had lasted, she now had other plans for her life that most certainly did not include him.

Cairo had taken Hollywood by storm when she’d moved there with her movie-producer husband eight years ago, but even so, she and Rafe had never met again until now. Cairo was a member of the partying set that Rafe avoided at all costs.

Rafe stood unmoving now, his gaze steadily holding Cairo’s more wary one as he noted other changes in her beside that ethereal slenderness.

Her eyes, those chocolate-brown orbs that could melt a man’s soul, were guarded now rather than glowing as they used to do.

There were dark shadows beneath those eyes, too, as if she hadn’t slept well for some time. And there were small delicate lines on either side of the fullness of her mouth, as if a smile had been grimly set there far too often and for far too long as a shield to the inner unhappiness she had no intention of allowing anyone to see or even guess at.

A veneer that had been totally exploded when Cairo had first separated from, and then divorced, her very powerful husband.

On the surface, their marriage had seemed idyllic. A myth that Rafe, along with everyone else who had ever seen or read anything about the couple, had totally believed in until their separation ten months ago….

‘Let’s all just go for that swim, hmm, Cairo, and talk about this later?’ he encouraged softly now.

Cairo stepped away from him. ‘You’re many things, Rafe, but I never thought stupid as being one of them—’ She broke off with a frown as Rafe gave her a derisive smile. ‘You find something about this situation amusing?’ she bit out irritably.

Yes, Cairo was definitely still in possession of that fiery temperament that had once attracted him so strongly and that made her so electrifying to watch on the big screen.

‘Only the way you keep insisting that I have to leave.’ He shrugged. ‘Even if I could manage to find an available hotel room in the middle of the Cannes Film Festival, I wouldn’t,’ he admitted.

‘Why wouldn’t you?’

‘Firstly, because I much prefer the peace and quiet to be found here—’

‘I agree—it was quiet and very peaceful!’ Cairo gave him a pointed glare, letting him know clearly that he was the reason that was no longer the case. ‘Rafe, you must know I have absolutely no intention of letting you stay on here.’

‘Ah.’

‘What do you mean, “ah”?’ she prompted warily.

‘The thing is, Cairo, that brings me to the second reason I have no intention of leaving, either now or in the immediate future,’ he told her firmly.

‘Which is…?’ she challenged.

Rafe couldn’t help laughing out loud. ‘That I’m not the guest here, Cairo—you are. This is my villa,’ he added dryly when she continued to look at him blankly.

Cairo stared at Rafe unblinkingly.

Rafe was the ‘friend’ who let Margo and Jeff stay at his villa in the South of France every year?

CHAPTER TWO

NO ONE looking at Cairo’s calm expression, as she relaxed in her bikini on a lounger beside the pool, would ever have guessed at the emotions seething inside her.

Except Rafe, of course.

The cause of those seething emotions!

But he was apparently too busy playing with Daisy, in the pool he had dived into immediately after announcing he owned the villa, to even seem aware of Cairo’s presence there, too. Other than physically dragging him out of the pool—which, considering Rafe weighed twice as much as she did, was a non-starter—and demanding he leave, Cairo had little choice but to join the two of them down on the lower terrace.

Dark glasses shielded her eyes from prying eyes, as well as the glare of the sun as she contemplated her options.

Rafe owned this villa in the South of France.

A little fact that Margo had apparently forgotten to mention for the last eight years, seven of which she and Jeff had been coming to stay here for a couple of weeks every spring!

Or perhaps Margo had simply felt it more diplomatic not to mention that the villa belonged to Rafe….

Cairo had absolutely refused to discuss, with anyone, the reason for the end of her relationship with Rafe Montero. In fact, not only had she refused to talk about him, she had also forbidden Margo to talk to her about him, too. Which would, admittedly, have made it extremely difficult for Margo to tell Cairo that she and Jeff had remained friends with him all these years!

However, there was no way she could stay on here now that she knew Rafe owned the villa, so that meant Cairo had two options.

She could either return to England and the publicity, which, although it was nowhere near as unrelenting as it had been in the States, still dogged Cairo’s steps every time she so much as stepped out of the apartment she had bought in London and moved into six months ago.

Or alternatively she could find somewhere else for herself and Daisy to stay in this beautiful area of France.

The latter option was the obvious one, of course. For one thing, Daisy was sure to be very disappointed if they had to cut their holiday short. For another, Cairo really didn’t want to return to England yet, seeing as she had actually been enjoying this first proper holiday she had taken in years.

Dammit, why had Rafe Montero had to turn up and disturb their tranquillity in this way?

Also, having turned up, and discovered Cairo here instead of Margo and Jeff, what was he still doing here? He had to know how awkward this situation was for her. He also had to know that the two of them couldn’t remain here alone—apart from Daisy—together!

He just didn’t give a damn.

But then, he never had….

Cairo looked across at him from behind her sunglasses, watching the droplets of water glistening on his face and shoulders as he stood up in the deep end of the pool playing a ball game with Daisy, his dark hair wet now and slicked back from his face as he grinned mischievously at the little girl. That ruggedly handsome face had once made Cairo’s heartbeat quicken just to look at it…

She turned sharply away, her hands clenching at her sides as she fought back those painful memories.

Here and now was what mattered.

But here and now Cairo felt completely at a loss to know what to do next. Rafe, on the basis that this villa was actually his, was quite rightly refusing to leave, but the logistics of finding another villa for Daisy and herself to move into seemed overwhelming to Cairo.

And this indecisiveness was Rafe’s fault, too!

Because Cairo had allowed herself to relax during the last twenty-four hours, to just let herself be, to exist, to let herself revel in the fact that, after years of making films back to back, she had no pressing work pressures for the next two weeks, when she was due to begin rehearsals for the lead in the London play she had agreed to appear in.

Now Rafe, with his unwanted presence here, was forcing her into once again making decisions, when it was the last thing she felt like doing.

She desperately blinked back the tears of frustration. She wouldn’t cry. She would not!

So if she wasn’t going to be ‘sad,’ then she would just have to get ‘mad’. And Rafe Montero was the obvious person for her to get mad at!

‘Are you coming in for a swim or not?’ Rafe leant his arms on the side of the pool as he looked across at her.

He had been totally aware of Cairo the last hour or so as she lay so still and silent on a lounger beside the pool, not reading a book or magazine but just staring off into the distance.

She looked even more slender now that she had removed the overlong T-shirt to reveal that she wore only a brief black bikini beneath; there didn’t seem to be an ounce of superfluous flesh on those long silky limbs.

Long, silky limbs that had more than once been entwined with his…

‘No, I’m not coming in for a swim,’ she answered him tersely now. ‘Rafe, you must see that we have to talk about—about the awkwardness, of this situation…?’

Yes, of course he knew the two of them had to talk. Dammit, he was no more happy about finding himself practically alone here with Cairo—young Daisy apart— than she obviously was at having him here.

But neither did he think it was a good idea to have Daisy witness an argument between her aunty Cairo and her ‘uncle’ Rafe, especially when—as it was sure to!—it resulted in the two of them saying things it would be much better for Daisy not to hear.

His mouth thinned. ‘Cairo, how does Daisy seem to you?’

‘Seem to me?’ she repeated with a frowning glance at the little girl playing at the other end of the pool by throwing a coin into the water before diving in to collect it.

‘Dammit, Cairo.’ Rafe quickly ascended the steps that led out of the pool. ‘How long is it since you’ve seen or cared about anyone but yourself?’ he demanded as he stood beside her to pick up a towel and begin drying his hair.

Cairo gasped at his accusing tone. ‘That is totally unfair, Rafe!’ It was also totally unfair what his semi-nakedness was doing to her heart-rate as he leisurely dried himself off with the towel!

‘Is it?’ he challenged grimly as he moved to sit down on the lounger next to hers. ‘Tell me what you see when you look at Daisy,’ he ordered.

Cairo stared at him rebelliously for several long seconds before turning her attention to her young niece. ‘I see…a little girl having fun playing in the pool,’ she said.

‘Look again, Cairo. Closer,’ he insisted as she would have protested.

Cairo bit back her resentment at his arrogant tone as she turned her attention back to Daisy. Tall for her age, with shoulder-length golden hair and blue eyes, Daisy looked to her like any other healthy, happy six-year-old on holiday.

Or did she…?

Now that Cairo thought about it, before Rafe’s arrival earlier, Daisy hadn’t been as chatty this last twenty-four hours. Oh, her niece had played in the pool yesterday and, this morning, had helped Cairo prepare their meals, but she had been less gregarious than usual, less spontaneous, less inclined to do anything, and had refused absolutely to go to the local shops with Cairo this morning so that they could restock on food. Cairo had put this uncharacteristic lack of cooperation down to tiredness after their journey, but what if that wasn’t the reason?

Cairo turned frowningly back to Rafe. ‘You think she’s worried about Margo?’

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘What do you think?’

Not knowing how much Daisy actually knew about Margo’s condition, Cairo wasn’t really sure how to answer that question.

Maybe Rafe was right. Maybe Cairo had been too wrapped up in her own problems just recently to give anyone else’s a thought. Although she certainly didn’t thank Rafe for being the one to point that out—until now she hadn’t even known he liked children, let alone understood Daisy’s moods.

She sat up on the lounger. ‘Perhaps I should sit down with her and calmly explain that Margo just needs to rest for a few weeks because her blood pressure is a little high—’

‘And you think a little girl of six will be reassured by that explanation?’ Rafe said sarcastically.

Colour warmed Cairo’s cheeks at his intended rebuke. ‘I think it might be worth a try, yes!’

He scowled. ‘If that’s the extent of your knowledge of children, perhaps it’s as well that you and Bond never had any!’

Cairo gasped incredulously at his scorn, the fact that she had thought exactly the same thing following her separation from Lionel not important at that moment; Rafe certainly hadn’t meant it in the same way she did.

‘Look at yourself, Cairo.’ Rafe’s gaze ran over her with scathing dismissal. ‘Perfect hair. Perfect skin. Perfect teeth. Too-perfect body. Perfect damned everything! At least you looked human eight years ago; now you just look like every other perfect Hollywood actress!’

Cairo felt her cheeks pale at his deliberately insulting tone. It was too much on top of everything else she had gone through the last eight years.

She stood up. ‘When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it— Let go of me, Rafe!’ she instructed between gritted teeth as he reached out to curl long fingers about her wrist.

A too-slender wrist, Rafe decided even as he felt the creamy softness of her skin beneath his fingers, his gaze moving down to her hand now, the long, slender fingers completely bare of rings. Although there was a slightly whiter band of skin on the third finger of her left hand where her wedding ring and that huge rock that Bond had bought her as an engagement ring used to be….

‘I don’t think so,’ he challenged softly, even as his fingers tightened about her wrist.

Dark sunglasses hid the emotion in her eyes, but the pallor of her cheeks and the unhappy curve of her mouth were evidence of her rising anger.

She was angry? After years of deliberately blocking any memory of Cairo from his mind, Rafe had been forced to relive every single one of them during the last hour. It hadn’t improved his temper at all.

His mouth compressed into a thin line. ‘How’s your career, Cairo?’

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘The last time I looked it was just fine, thank you.’

‘Really?’ Rafe taunted.

‘Yes—really!’ she grated.

Rafe shrugged. ‘You can’t live on the publicity of the divorce for ever, you know. At some time in the not too distant future you’ll have to get back to work.’

Cairo’s palm itched, her free hand actually aching from the effort it took to stop herself from slapping that arrogant smile from Rafe’s mockingly curved lips.

He grimaced. ‘I’m just trying to be helpful—’

‘When I want your advice, I’ll ask for it!’ Her eyes flashed an unmistakable warning.

He quirked dark brows. ‘Which would be never—right?’

‘Right!’

‘I’m just interested, Cairo. Relocating yourself to London after your separation doesn’t exactly seem like a good career move, does it?’ Rafe’s gaze was fixed on her face.

‘Mind your own damned business!’

‘Fine.’ He released her abruptly to hold his hands up as he stepped away from her.

Cairo glared at him for several more seconds before giving an abrupt nod. ‘If you’ll excuse me…’

‘Running away, Cairo?’ Rafe taunted her as she turned away.

Cairo paused to look back at him, her chin raised stubbornly high. ‘I believe you said earlier that you would enjoy a glass of white wine…?’

His brows rose. ‘And you’re about to go and get me one?’

‘If it means I get to spend a little less time in your unpleasant company, yes!’ she bit out. ‘But, of course, if you’ve changed your mind—’

‘You should know by now that once my mind is made up about something—or someone—then it rarely changes,’ he said pointedly.

‘Luckily, neither does mine,’ she came back just as pointedly.

They continued to look at each other for several long, tense seconds, a battle of wills that was totally matched in intensity, with neither of them willing to back down.

It had always been like this between them, Rafe recalled ruefully. Cairo might only have been a twenty-year-old actress just starting out in her career eight years ago, but even then she’d had a definite mind of her own, had known exactly what she wanted and how to get it. And eight years ago, she had decided she wanted to become the wife of multi-millionaire movie producer Lionel Bond and unashamedly used her relationship with Rafe as a stepping stone to achieving that goal.

He moved to lie back on the lounger as he looked out over the terraces of orange trees that surrounded the pool. ‘White wine sounds good,’ he said curtly.

He felt Cairo continue to look at him frowningly for several more seconds before she turned sharply on her heel and continued up the steps to the villa.

Rafe waited until he was sure she had left before turning to look at her, his hands clenching at his sides as he watched that red hair cascading wildly down a back that seemed endless and almost sensuously feline, a bottom smoothly curving in the black bikini, and legs that were long and shapely.

Dammit, even after all this time, after all that had happened between them, Cairo was still one of the most seductively beautiful women Rafe had ever laid eyes—or hands—on.

Not a comfortable realization for a man who made a point of never becoming involved with a woman. Not any more!

He looked across at Daisy playing in the pool. ‘Sweetheart, do you want to go inside and get changed now? It’ll be time to eat soon.’

‘Okay, Uncle Rafe.’ Daisy obediently got out of the pool and went inside the villa.

Cairo’s movements were agitated as she collected wine from the fridge and glasses from the cupboard, not forgetting to get some more juice for Daisy, too, in case she fancied a drink.

How dared Rafe even presume to offer her advice?

Rafe had callously broken her heart eight years ago, leaving her completely vulnerable to the face-saving offer of Lionel’s marriage proposal—

Cairo came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the kitchen, her eyes closing as she swayed dizzily.

It was the first time she had ever admitted, even to herself, that Rafe’s actions were the real reason she had married Lionel….

She shook her head as she once again fought back the tears.

No matter what her reasons might or might not have been for marrying Lionel, despite the fact that she hadn’t loved him, she had tried to be a good wife to him, had accompanied him to numerous parties and premieres, always the glamorous and smiling asset. Her work schedule had also been horrendous in recent years, more often than not for Lionel’s own production company.

Yes, she really had tried to be the ‘perfect’ wife to Lionel.

The fact that she had ultimately failed still haunted her….

‘Cairo, exactly what are you doing?’

Cairo was so startled by the harsh sound of Rafe’s voice behind her that she dropped the carton of juice she was holding, staring down as it seemed to fall in slow motion before landing with a very liquid splat on the tiled floor to spray the juice high into the air.

She gasped as most of that cold juice landed on her bare legs, stepping back quickly, only to come up against a hard, immovable object.

Rafe’s body…

Cairo froze as her back came into contact with the searing heat of Rafe’s bare chest and thighs, her spine stiffening as she immediately tried to move away from that contact.

It was too much, Rafe decided grimly. Having an almost naked Cairo pressed against him, her bottom nestled neatly against his hardening thighs, was just too much on top of coming face to face with her again so unexpectedly earlier on.

He grasped her arms to turn her round to face him, knowing by her sudden gasp, the widening of those dark brown eyes as she looked up at him, that she had read the intent in his eyes.

That she knew Rafe was going to kiss her.

Not gently.

Not searchingly.

Certainly not with the slow sensuality with which they used to kiss.

Rafe was hungry.

Very hungry.

So damned hungry for the taste and feel of Cairo that he wanted to strip those two scraps of material from her body, push her against the wall, and take her where she stood!

He held her gaze with his as his arms moved about her like steel bands, moulding her willowy curves against the lean length of his own body before moving his eyes down to look at the parted softness of her lips.

Cairo had always had the most erotic mouth he had ever seen, her lips full and pouting, slightly moistened now, as if inviting and ready for his kiss.

And he was more than ready to kiss her!

Cairo was held mesmerized by the fierceness of Rafe’s gaze, but her breath stopped completely as his head swooped and his mouth forcefully claimed hers, deeply, fiercely, demanding a response from her rather than asking for one.

A response Cairo was unable to deny him as her lips seemed to part of their own volition. Her arms moved up and her hands clung to those wide, powerful shoulders, Rafe’s skin feeling like steel encased in satin beneath her fingertips.

Heat exploded between them, a fierce, burning heat.

Everywhere were licking flames of complete awareness, of fierce arousal, as her body curved more intimately against Rafe’s and she returned the hunger of his kiss.

It had been so long—too long!—since Cairo had felt so stingingly, vibrantly alive!

Rafe’s hands, his large, evocative hands, moved caressingly across her back as that devouring kiss continued, Rafe’s tongue now thrusting into the moist heat of her mouth, and all the time those hands seeming to burn as they caressed her from hip to breast in restless demand.

Muscles rippled along Rafe’s spine as Cairo touched him there, his silky skin feeling hot, hard, and so wonderful.

Cairo was so lost to reason, so totally aroused, that she offered no protest as she felt Rafe unfastening the single hook at the back of her top before one of his hands moved round unerringly to cup the nakedness of her breast.

Cairo melted completely as the soft pad of his thumb moved caressingly across the thrusting pout of her nipple, rivers of pleasure engulfing her—

‘Uncle Rafe…?’

Cairo barely had time to register Daisy’s presence in the kitchen before Rafe pulled sharply away from her, eyes darkly—briefly—accusing as he thrust Cairo impatiently behind him before turning to face the little girl.

Rafe breathed raggedly. ‘Aunty Cairo and I were just—’

‘It’s okay, Uncle Rafe, Mummy and Daddy kiss each other all the time,’ Daisy told him in that patronizing tone of voice that only a precocious six-year-old could possibly use when talking to an adult. ‘’Course I didn’t know that you and Aunty Cairo kissed, too, but I suppose it’s all right.’ She shrugged.

‘That’s very—adult, of you, Daisy,’ Rafe told her dryly.

‘Grown-ups are always kissing and stuff,’ Daisy assured him with a total lack of interest.

Cairo was hastily dealing with her bikini top—not having as much luck fastening it as Rafe had done unfastening it because her fingers trembled so much!—but even so she was aware of the muscles rippling in Rafe’s back as he suppressed a chuckle at Daisy’s bored dismissal of the scene she had just witnessed.

Cairo certainly didn’t share his humour concerning this totally embarrassing situation. Rafe had only been back in her life a matter of hours and already she was allowing him to kiss her!

Well…no, she hadn’t exactly allowed him to kiss her— being Rafe he had just taken the opportunity to kiss her.

And he wasn’t ‘back in her life’, either—something she intended making very plain to him the next time they were alone together.

So far today Rafe had mocked her, taunted her and insulted her—he certainly wasn’t going to get away with making love to her whenever he felt like it!

Cairo drew in a controlling breath as she stepped out from behind Rafe, her bikini top now firmly back in place. ‘What would you like to do first, Daisy, cook dinner or phone Mummy?’

Daisy’s face instantly brightened. ‘Phone Mummy!’

‘We’ll go and do it right now,’ Cairo promised, determinedly keeping her gaze averted from Rafe’s as she crossed the kitchen to take the excited Daisy’s hand in her own.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Rafe drawled behind them. ‘I’ll just stay here and clear up this sticky juice from the floor, shall I?’

Cairo turned back to give him a mocking smile. ‘That’s very kind of you, Rafe,’ she accepted lightly. ‘I’m sure you’ll find everything you need in the cupboard under the sink,’ she added.

His eyes glittered dangerously. ‘Not everything that I need, Cairo,’ he ground out harshly.

She gave him a censorious frown. ‘Just do your best, hmm?’ she snapped.

‘I usually do,’ he stated deliberately.

Cairo shot him a silencing glare before leaving the kitchen, Daisy’s hand still tucked trustingly in her own.

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