AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Unlike me, you mean.’
‘I have no idea of your personal circumstances.’ Except that most of the unmarried men in the building would like to change them—and a number of the married ones, too, he thought grimly.
Natalie smiled. ‘True, but don’t let that stop you making judgement calls, will you?’ Dark colour appeared across the crest of his sharply defined cheekbones; she was pleased to see that her jibe had found its mark.
‘A child needs two parents.’
Natalie released an incredulous laugh…he thinks I need telling this? ‘Did you read that somewhere or is this original thought we are hearing?’ She shook her head in disgust. ‘And what will you do if the other half of this stable relationship decides that she isn’t ready after all for parenthood…or, for that matter, marriage? What if she packs her bags and says she has to leave because living with you is stifling h…her artistic creativity? That…she doesn’t love you any more and thinks maybe he never did!’
Natalie froze in horror as the lengthening silence continued to echo with the acrid bitterness of her last throbbing announcement. She was totally aghast at what she had said.
Why not just strip your soul bare, Natalie? Oh, I forgot, you already did! Her head sank to her chest as she closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see what he was going to make of that. Her performance amounted to handing your enemy a loaded gun. Rafe being the enemy and this being war?
War…? The analogy struck her immediately as being on the extreme side. Why when Rafe was involved did she lose all sense of proportion—why did she go off the deep end so dramatically? Was this just a clash of personalities or was it a symptom of something much worse?
‘I think I would consider myself well rid of such an idiot.’
Natalie was startled by this objective pronouncement, and her troubled gaze fluttered to his face. The bad news was he had seen through her hypothetical scenario; the good news was that nothing resembled the ‘pity poor dumped wife’ expression she hated so much in his face.
She gave a sigh—under the circumstances there didn’t seem much point continuing the pretence. ‘It wasn’t really Mike’s fault,’ she protested. ‘We were too young, and before we got married him being an artist unwilling to sacrifice his artistic integrity seemed quite romantic.’ It had seemed a lot less desirable when they’d had rent to pay.
A spasm of distaste contorted Rafael’s austerely handsome features—in his eyes a man who deserted a wife and young child was the lowest of the low.
‘My God, I never took you for one of those pathetic females who defend the shiftless bastards who abuse and leave them!’
The lashing virulence of the anger in his voice took her aback almost as much as his accusation. It seemed she wasn’t the only one in danger of going off the deep end.
‘Mike wasn’t abusive!’ she protested. Her slender shoulders lifted. ‘Just immature,’ she judged generously.
Rafael raked a hand through his dark hair and gave vent to his feelings in a flood of musical Italian. It was the first time she had heard him revert to his mother’s native tongue and, even though she doubted if the passionate invective translated into anything she’d like to hear, Natalie was spellbound.
Italian was not only beautiful to listen to, it was a very passionate language, she thought as his words flowed over her, smooth as warm honey. Did people who were bilingual find one language more appropriate than another for different activities…say English was good for booking theatre seats and Italian might be better for, say, making love?
‘And I’m not pathetic,’ she asserted, her voice rising to a panicky pitch as she tried to dispel from her head the shocking image of pale limbs entwined with dark gold. She closed her eyes in disgust and opened them with a snap when she felt the light touch of his fingers slide over the curve of her jaw. Her startled gaze collided head-on with burning blue eyes.
Natalie was too shocked by the casual physical contact to do anything but stare wide-eyed back at him like a night creature caught in the glare of headlights—and any headlights paled into insignificance beside his compelling cerulean gaze. There was no respite, no place to hide from the raking scrutiny of his lustrously lashed eyes.
Her lashes fluttered as the corners of his sternly beautiful mouth lifted; the action lessened the severity of his expression quite dramatically. His smile could have melted stone and Natalie’s heart was not made of stone, and, though she liked to pretend otherwise, neither was it immune to this man’s charismatic charm.
‘No, not pathetic.’ The half-smile reached his eyes and Natalie felt bathed in the warm glow of his approval…this was ridiculous!
It’s not as if I care what he thinks of me! she thought. Care or not, she was mightily relieved when his hand fell back to his side. Are you so sure about that, Nat? Isn’t there some secret part of you that wanted to prolong the contact…?
Rafe saw the tiny negative shake of her head and raised an interrogative brow.
The fight abruptly drained out of Natalie, leaving her feeling too weary to sustain her anger or resistance—Rafe was the most exhausting man to be around for any period of time. Or for that matter to be around period!
‘Oh, for God’s sake, if you’re going to sack me or something get on with it.’ She sighed, wearily sinking back into her chair.
She would have spun away from him but Rafe caught the back of her chair and turned it back towards him. Hands on the arm rests, his body curved over hers, he was an extremely big, powerful man and the action could have been intimidating, but it wasn’t—it was exciting.
Natalie pressed a nervous hand to her neck. She could feel the dull vibration of her heartbeat in the hollow at the base of her throat. She was discovering that underneath his northern Celtic cool Rafe Ransome had inherited more of his mother’s volatile Latin temperament than she had suspected. She might have been able to predict what Rafe would do in a given situation, but not Rafael, and the man who towered above her looked all Rafael.
‘Or something.’
Natalie, who had forgotten what she’d said, didn’t respond to the husky murmur. He was so close now that she could see the fine lines radiating from the corners of his eyes and the gold tips on the ends of his long sooty eyelashes. Through the dark concealing mesh she could see the shimmering summer-blue of his eyes. The tension in the air was so pronounced that she could almost see the invisible barrier that stood between them.
He appeared to be breathing hard; she could hear the soft, sibilant hiss of each inhalation and feel the intimate warmth of his breath whisper along her forehead and across th
e curve of her cheek. She found herself wondering what the texture of the dark shadow that emphasised the hollows of his cheeks and ran along his angular jaw would feel like if she ran her fingers over it… The achy, empty feeling low in her belly intensified as, unable to trust herself, she locked her fingers together tightly to prevent them doing something she’d regret.
He had angled his dark head so that the fragrant warmth now fell directly against her parted lips. The possibility he was going to kiss her no longer seemed so remote. Dizzy with anticipation, Natalie stopped breathing and closed her eyes.
It seemed like a long time later that his lips finally brushed against hers; Natalie’s body stiffened, then relaxed. The pressure was light. It wasn’t a lightness that could in any way have been construed as accidental; this was a leave-you-wanting-more, mind-blowingly erotic lightness.
And his technique worked. It worked like a dream. Maybe it was a dream…that was the only place she’d been kissed in a long time. She half wished it were a dream; people could behave irresponsibly in dreams and there were no consequences.
If this is a dream, don’t let me wake up just yet.
‘You’re going to hate me in the morning,’ he predicted throatily as his mouth moved with tantalising slowness down the slender curve of her throat.
‘I already do,’ she rebutted huskily.
‘How much?’ he asked, kissing her closed eyelids.
‘You talk too much,’ she complained.
Rafe laughed huskily, but there was nothing amused about his taut, driven expression. She looked into his smoky eyes and whimpered as his teeth gently tugged at the soft flesh of her lower lip. She bit him back and felt the purr of husky laughter in his throat.
