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Which meant...
What? It was a Saturday; her bank would be closed. Attempting to arrange a temporary bank loan here, with her limited French? Not a good idea. Ringing Jules, explaining what had happened and asking her for a temporary loan? Better—if Jules was even there. But Jules would probably tell Lucy, and then Lucy would insist on sending her money from the business. Asking some one else if they could help her out? Like who? One of their contractors? Or... She looked uncertainly at Ricardo as she followed him to the car.
There was nothing she hated more than being beholden to someone, accepting a benefit she could neither repay nor return. It went against everything she believed in to ask anyone to even lend her money—and were the money for her own personal spending she would have starved rather than consider it. But it wasn't. It would just be temporary. And she had a duty to the business that surely overrode her own pride?
As they reached the car Ricardo looked at Carly. It was obvious to him that she was expecting him to do the gentlemanly thing and offer to replace her lost clothing. Poor girl—how on earth could she be expected to manage with just the contents of her hand luggage and the clothes she stood up in? She couldn't—and, since effectively she was here at least in part for his benefit, naturally he, as a very wealthy man should offer to pro vide her with a suitable new wardrobe.
And when he didn't respond as she obviously wanted him to, what, he mused, would be her next move?
Did St Tropez have second-hand clothes shops? Charity shops? Carly wondered worriedly as she thanked Ricardo when he politely held open the passenger door of the car for her. Surely it must. French women were known to be shrewd in such matters.
'Something wrong?' Ricardo asked her smoothly.
She was very tempted to admit just how much was wrong—although she doubted he would share her dismay at the thought of a £4,000 bill, she thought ruefully. She opted for discretion instead, and told him lightly, 'I didn't realize you'd be driving yourself. I was expecting a chauffeur-driven car.'
Of course she was. Women like her did.
'Even billionaires sometimes like to economize,' he told her dryly, before adding, more truthfully, 'I like driving, and I grew up in Naples. If you can drive there and live, you can drive anywhere.'
The car was plain and solidly built, but—blissfully— the air-conditioning was wonderfully effective.
They were stationary in a queue of traffic, and at the side of the road a young man was offering a stunningly pretty girl a peach. As Carly looked on, the girl, oblivious to everything and everyone other than the young man, leaned forward and cupped her hand round his. Then, without taking her gaze from his, she took a bite out of the ripe fruit whilst its juice ran from it onto their interlocked hands.
The small tableau was so intensely sensual and intimate that Carly immediately looked away—and found she was looking right into Ricardo's eyes.
Could he see in hers that she had watched the young couple, wondering how it would feel if he had been the one offering the peach to her? If its juice had run on her bare skin, would he have bent his head to savor its path with his tongue? Would he have... ?
She started to tremble violently, small beads of sweat breaking out on her skin, and her body was suddenly thrown forward against her seatbelt as Ricardo de pressed the accelerator savagely, causing the car to shoot forward.
What the hell was the matter with him? Ricardo be rated himself silently. No way was he dumb enough to fall for something so obvious as the tired old come-on Carly had just tried out on him. Look at my lips, watch my tongue, imagine...
It was those damned eyes of hers that did it! How the hell did she manage to get them to turn so smoky and lustrous with desire on demand like that?
Hell—insanely, for a second, she'd almost had him persuaded that the sight of those two kids with their peach had made her ache for him as if he was the only man on earth. Not that his body needed much persuading. It was all too eager to believe she wanted him.
CHAPTER FOUR
'Where exactly are we staying?' Carly asked Ricardo, hoping that it would be within easy walking distance of the town and the harbor. She would need easy access to both from early tomorrow morning, so that she could liaise properly with their contractors and get to the bank, as she had promised her parents, plus somehow find time to replenish her wardrobe.
'Villa Mimosa,' Ricardo answered her. 'It's outside St Tropez itself, up in the hills overlooking the sea. I'm not a particular fan of over-hyped, supposedly in places. Invariably, every minor celebrity that TV and magazines have ever created flock to them for maximum publicity exposure, destroying whatever charm the place may once have had. I like my privacy, and personally I prefer quality to quantity every time.'
'Oh, yes. Me too,' Carly agreed immediately. 'But I do need to be able to get into St Tropez quickly and easily.'
'Ah, you're thinking about replacing your missing clothes,' Ricardo said affably.
Carly couldn't help laughing. 'That, yes—but I was thinking more of liaising with our contractors.'
'Mmm. I thought the purpose of this trip was for you to liaise with me,' Ricardo told her softly.
Damn and double damn. He cursed himself mentally as he saw Carly absorbing the subtle flirtatiousness of his remark. Why the hell had he done that? Why hadn't he waited and let her come on to him? Now she knew he was receptive to her!
Ricardo had just flirted with her! A heady mixture of pleasure and excitement danced along her veins. Careful, she warned herself. Remember you don't want to get into a situation you can't afford. On the other hand, there was such a thing as being too cautious. After all, her common sense told her that a man like Ricardo would not be interested in anything more than the very briefest kind of relationship—a 'no commitment of any kind' type of relationship. The perfect kind of relation ship, surely, for a woman like her, who did not want to fall in love but who secretly—even if this was the first time she had admitted it to herself—wondered what it would be like to have sex with a man all her instincts told her would be a once-in-a-lifetime lover. Why shouldn't she live a little recklessly for once?
'Well, I certainly want to do my best to please you.'
Carly could scarcely believe such words had come from her own lips. Words that, no matter how demurely she had spoken them, could surely only convey to Ricardo a very provocative message.
Ricardo turned his head to look at her. That was more like it!
The look in those dark eyes was quite unmistakable, Carly recognized, as her heart missed a beat and sweet, hot, sensual arousal poured through her body like warm honey.
'We're here.'
'What? Oh. Yes.'
She had actually blushed, Ricardo marveled as he stopped the car. And her nipples were standing out beneath the fabric of her tee shirt in flagrant sexual arousal.
Ridiculously, suddenly he was as hot for her as though he were a mere youth and this was his first time.
She might as well ask for his help and get it out of the way now, Carly decided. Because once they got inside...
Once they got inside what? Once they got inside she hoped he would take her to bed?
Her thoughts were leaving her torn between shock and delight. And urgency! Suddenly she wanted very much to get the matter of her need for a short-term loan and her discomfort about mentioning it to him out of the way.
So that she could be free to encourage him to flirt with her and ultimately—maybe—take her to bed with out it hanging over her?
The unfamiliar recklessness of her own thoughts took some getting used to. But she wasn't tempted to abandon them, was she?
So first things first, and then...
She cleared her throat and took a deep breath.
'Ricardo... I...er...'
The husky little catch in her voice was very effective, Ricardo thought, as he waited for her to continue.
'I feel very uncomfortable about this, but...'
'Yes?' he encouraged when she pre
tended to falter. After all, he reasoned cynically, the sooner he could get this farce over with, the sooner he could satisfy the itch to possess her that had now become an almighty, savage, unignorable ache.
Carly took heart from the kindness in Ricardo's patient encouragement.
'I need to replace some of the things that were in my suitcase. I don't want to worry Lucy—it's my job to deal with the accounts, after all—and... And I know this is... ' Her face had started to burn. 'I was wondering if I could ask you to lend me some money—just temporarily, of course.'
Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? Carly wondered, feeling acutely embarrassed. Just listening to herself as she stumbled over her words made her go cold with horror at what she was doing. And if she found her request unacceptable, then what on earth must Ricardo be thinking?
'I feel dreadful about this,' she admitted honestly, 'but I can't think of what else I can do.'
Really? Didn't she possess a bank account of her own? A credit card? A debit card? The ability to walk into a bank?
'It would just be a loan. I would pay you back, of course... '
Indeed she would—and with interest.
