Henry was basically a decent man, Sophie thought, but he was lonely and she’d played a dangerous game, not making her feelings clear to him from the start. She glanced at Xavier, a man who exuded testosterone from every pore. She felt safe working with him, and knew she would never feel safe with Henry again. And she had never loved Henry; she understood that now. But she couldn’t help admiring him. Volunteering to work in a situation so alien to him, it had to be hard—and would only get harder once he was out in the field. But the project was more important than her own feelings.
‘You could bring so much to the project, Henry,’ she said encouragingly. ‘And we’ll be working together again,’ she added, trying to sound happy about it.
‘Ah—’ Xavier interrupted. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’
‘Why not?’ Sophie said uncertainly. Was she to be sent home then? Mashing her lips together, she forced back her angry defence. This was a tightly run ship. She respected Xavier’s judgement. If he really thought she wasn’t up to the job—
‘I need you with me,’ he said simply. His face registered nothing as he waited for her response.
‘But, Xavier, I thought—’
‘I can’t help what you thought, Sophie,’ he said firmly. ‘The point is, Henry’s here now, and I can use you better elsewhere.’
Disappointment hit her square in the guts. There wasn’t a trace of intimacy in his voice—no hidden agenda, no double entendre, just plain, unadulterated fact. He was referring to her work and nothing else, Sophie realised, trying not to care. She glanced at Henry, who smiled ruefully back. He had resigned himself to a life without her, a life that absolved him from springing to her defence. ‘OK,’ she said, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. ‘I’m here to work, Xavier. I’ll go anywhere you want me to.’
‘Good. I’m glad that’s settled,’ Xavier said with satisfaction as if he had tied up the last of the loose ends. ‘Well, we’ll have supper now and then turn in. We’ve got an early start in the morning,’ he said, shooting a warning glance at Sophie.
‘Henry,’ he added, clapping his new colleague on the shoulder, ‘how are you in the kitchen?’
‘So, where are we going?’
Sophie knew Evie would have answered her question right away. But Evie had taken herself off for her annual break to Rancho del Condor when she had touched down, and Xavier was piloting the light aircraft back to Lima. Apart from telling Henry he would be leaving for Spain soon, Xavier hadn’t mentioned where they were going, for how long, or why. Sophie had hardly seen him to ask questions: he was always busy briefing the new doctors who had arrived with Henry. And now Xavier was lost in thought, with an expression on his face that suggested he wouldn’t welcome a distraction. But she had every right to know.
‘OK, Xavier, so I know it’s Lima,’ she said firmly, ‘but what are we going to do when we get there? What will my duties be?’ she demanded, getting heated now.
‘Buckle up for landing.’
‘Xavier—’
‘I need to concentrate,’ he said with maddening calm, adjusting the bank of controls in front of him. ‘We’re on the final approach.’
‘What are we going to be doing in Lima?’ Sophie said again when they had landed safely and were taxiing along the runway.
‘I’ve got meetings, interviews.’ He shrugged.
‘And what about me?’
‘You’re my second in command,’ he said. ‘You’ll be my sounding board.’
‘And you consulted me about this, when?’
‘I thought you should have a proper overview of the project. It will help you to understand how I go about fund-raising, managing my own financial input as well as the awareness exercises I carry out with the media.’
‘Like I said,’ Sophie demanded tensely, ‘when was I consulted about this? I signed up to be a doctor with the project, not to glad-hand the press.’
‘Well, that glad-handing is what keeps this scheme alive and thriving. And if you’re so short-sighted you can’t see that—’ Before Sophie could launch a counter-attack he warned, ‘I’m not in the mood for this, Sophie.’
The temperature was rising sharply between them. It felt as if he didn’t want her there—so why had he brought her, Sophie wondered. Right at this moment, taking on Henry back at the clinic had more appeal than struggling to build bridges with Xavier.
Though she tried to harden her mind against him, her body had other ideas. But at least her mind remained firm—firm-ish, she amended, watching Xavier’s strong hands moving with such efficiency between the controls. Everything those hands had touched, stroked and pleasured throbbed now with an insistent pulse. And the knowledge that they would never touch her again was unbearable—frustration squared.
‘That was a heavy sigh,’ he commented.
Sophie reddened, wondering if he had a direct line to her thoughts.
He glanced across at her. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she said, pleased that her voice sounded so even, so controlled—in complete contrast to the jangling disorder of her heart.
Being cooped up with Xavier in the small cabin for the best part of the morning was no antidote to the erotic meanderings of an off-duty mind, Sophie realised, easing position in her seat. She was still aroused, still incredibly sensitised from his lovemaking… Maybe she always would be, she hypothesized with a short inward smile. And wasn’t that better than nothing? It was certainly far safer than the real thing as far as her emotions were concerned.
‘I know it’s been a long trip,’ Xavier commented, ‘but don’t worry, it won’t be much longer.’
A long trip was right, Sophie mused wryly. Coming to Peru had been the journey of a lifetime in more ways than one. It was such a pity her fantasies couldn’t have remained intact for just a little while longer.
CHAPTER NINE
XAVIER took an entire floor at the Inca Continental Hotel in the centre of Lima. But Sophie soon discovered that the grand old building bore no resemblance to any five-star hotel she knew. If it had to be rated in stars, a whole constellation would have been closer to the mark.
‘This is my room.’
Sophie made herself ignore the spear of disappointment that the idea of Xavier sleeping alone induced as he led her across a huge and magnificent room. An illusion of additional height had been lent to the magnificently gilded and domed roof above her head by a series of diminishing scrolls. The bed was dwarfed by the size of everything else, but it was the use of colour she found intoxicating. Turning full circle, she tried to take it all in before Xavier whisked her away—brightest coral and gold, deep jade and sky blue—and everything that could be gilded had been, so that with the addition of the vast chandeliers glittering over their heads the room seemed filled with light and brilliance like an earthbound celestial cabaret.
‘If the furniture is moved it can be used as another ballroom,’ Xavier informed her casually, as a uniformed man-servant appeared out of nowhere to open some huge arched doors for them, ‘in addition, of course, to the larger ballroom in the main body of the hotel.’
It didn’t take much imagination to picture the scene when it was transformed, Sophie mused, casting a last lingering look over her shoulder. There would be ladies in couture gowns, and the men…perhaps some of them would be in uniform. And an orchestra…yes, a full orchestra, she decided.
‘Are you coming, Sophie?’ Xavier demanded, bringing her to her senses with a not so discreet cough. ‘I’ve got my first meeting in less than an hour.’
‘Yes…yes, I’m sorry.’ She walked briskly through the doorway where he was waiting, feeling his force field envelop her briefly. And then she was past him and entering another even more fabulous room. An experience like this was a once in a lifetime event, she mused, gazing around with naked appreciation. She wanted to take her time…savour it.
‘This is your sitting room,’ he said briefly.
‘My sitting room,’ Sophie repeated, st
raight-faced. Well, there were sofas—four of them—so she supposed the magnificent space was used for that purpose. In spite of the question mark hanging over her presence in Lima, she couldn’t help enjoying this chance to observe a lifestyle Xavier took for granted.
‘And this will be your bedroom.’
As Xavier held the door open for her, Sophie gasped. If she had thought his ballroom-sized sleeping quarters grand, then this bedroom was a real revelation. The walls were covered in ice-blue silk emblazoned with gold, and there was a canopy over the huge brass bedstead in the softest leaf-green colour. This was edged and tied back with a deep shade of rose and the bed-covering over the plump pillows and quilt was lilac, as was the stained glass decorated panel at the top of each high, arched window.
‘I hope it’s to your liking?’ he murmured, leaving her to walk about the room on what she guessed must be a priceless Aubusson rug in shades of cream, gold and rose.
‘It’s a little better than your base camp,’ Sophie said dryly. She saw his mouth quirk briefly before he continued the tour.
‘Here’s the bathroom, where you can indulge yourself while I’m in the meeting,’ he said, flinging open another door.
‘I thought I was to attend the meeting with you—to broaden my understanding of the project,’ Sophie said pointedly.
‘Not this first meeting—it’s private business. It has no connection with the project.’
‘I see.’
‘No, you don’t,’ he assured her softly.
Did he have to prowl around her like that? Sophie wondered as a frisson of awareness raced through her. However large the room—and this room was large—it felt as if Xavier inhabited every inch. There was no escape.
Rather than yield to the feelings stirring inside her, she pretended interest in an ornate centrepiece on a vast cabinet at the other side of the room.
‘Is George Jones majolica one of your interests?’ Xavier murmured, coming to stand within touching distance.
‘It looks so right here, but it shouldn’t, should it?’ she murmured, catching sight of her own reflection in an ornate gilt-rimmed mirror. Xavier was standing right behind her. She only had to lean back a fraction…
‘I don’t know,’ he observed softly. ‘The splendours of nineteenth-century English earthenware seem quite appropriate to me in this grand setting.’
Even reflected in the mirror, his dark gaze was hypnotic. It seemed to penetrate every inch of her and fill her with heat. ‘The colours are very beautiful…rich, and lustrous,’ Sophie managed breathily. Running the tips of her fingers over the deep turquoise surface, she could feel all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rising in response to him. ‘Must you leave right away?’ she murmured recklessly, a part of her hoping he wouldn’t hear.
‘Why, Sophie? Is there something further you’d like to discuss with me?’
Discuss? No. Remaining with her back to him, Sophie remembered they had only an hour before his meeting. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘If this is your last stop before you leave Peru, I’d like to know when you leave…and what happens to me when you do.’
The bluntness of her question surprised him. She was hoping for some kind of commitment, Xavier realised. He slipped his arm about her waist and brought her close. They made a pretty picture in the mirror, he saw with cynicism. In spite of all that had happened, there was an ease between them. He dropped a kiss on the back of her neck. They could have been man and wife.
He pulled back. Sophie had to be seeing the same thing. He couldn’t let it go on. Even he couldn’t be that heartless. ‘I go back to Spain. You can come with me if you want, but Sophie—’
‘Yes?’
Already she sounded wounded, Xavier realised, hardening his heart. Better to set her straight right now before he did any more damage. ‘I can’t offer you the long-term.’
‘I know that,’ Sophie said quickly. What was ‘long-term’ anyway? Long-term misery like her parents? In her heart she had been expecting him to say something like this. She’d even thought she was ready to hear it. How wrong could you be? Sophie wondered, closing her eyes tightly shut to stop tears betraying the true extent of her feelings for him.
‘Don’t look so tense, Sophie,’ Xavier murmured, ‘I want you here with me. That’s all I want right now.’
And, in that moment, Xavier realised he was telling the truth. He also realised she would assume he only spoke the words to keep her as his mistress: an emotional down-payment on a very cynical arrangement. Averting his face, Xavier wondered if he had ever despised himself as much as he did at that moment.
‘Don’t tease me, Xavier,’ Sophie said softly. His reflection in the mirror wasn’t enough. She turned to search for the truth in his eyes.
‘Who said anything about teasing you?’ Xavier said tenderly.
Even his voice had the power to caress her, to addle her thoughts and make her doubt her own resolve, Sophie realised. But he could cut her out too, she remembered. She was in Lima to do a job, not to be seduced by her boss. Her boss! Why could she never think of Xavier that way? Why must she always fight with him as if they were a couple, when it would be so much easier to accept him as her employer and occasional lover as many women might have done? ‘Why are we here, Xavier?’ she said firmly.
‘I thought I explained.’
‘I don’t think you did, not the real reason. And I think you owe it to me now—’
‘I owe you nothing on the personal front,’ he said abruptly, his eyes turning from sapphire to stone.
‘Because of Henry?’
‘No,’ he admitted curtly. ‘I smelt the drink on his breath when I sat with him at the table. And I think you got rather more than you deserved from that quarter. Henry’s out of the picture as far as I’m concerned. If you had only explained your understanding with him to me in a way a man can understand—’
‘A man like you?’
‘Any man who is not prepared to share his woman would ask the same,’ he said impatiently. ‘I thought we were close enough for you to trust me. After all your revelations about your parents…the intimacies we shared—physical, emotional—’ He stopped, seeing the tears in her eyes. ‘Sophie—’
As he reached out to her, she pulled back. Xavier was surprised to discover just how much that wounded him. Something closer to love than his customary pride made him try again. He only meant to draw Sophie to him, to hold her close for a few moments, perhaps kiss her head to reassure her before leaving her to prepare for his meeting. But as his arms closed around her and he felt her trembling beneath his touch, all he could remember, all that registered or mattered, was how much she meant to him.
They shared a hunger, and something even more than that, he realised, as Sophie raised her chin to gaze at him questioningly. But it was hunger now that was consuming him—that same hunger that, however hard each of them tried to subdue it, only continued to grow. It had become an all-involving passion for him, the like of which he had never known before. Would he ever sate the desire? Throwing back his head in one last attempt to regain control of his senses, Xavier realised he knew the answer to that even as he swept Sophie up in his arms and carried her across to the bed.
Stripping the lilac silk coverlet away in one impatient move, he laid her down gently on top of the softly yielding pillows. He helped her to undress, then turned his attention to his own clothes, removing them quickly and in silence. There was no need for words as they came together in an embrace that shook them both to the core. Sensuously, skilfully, he led her towards the inevitability of total pleasure, drawing out the tormenting seduction to its fullest extent before time constraints made him bring it to a close. And then, nudging her thighs apart, he teased her with a few lingering passes before tipping her up to meet him and inhabiting her completely. Xavier groaned, feeling her muscles tighten around him, drawing him deeper, insisting he pleasure her until the warm, silken noose of her body became a hot moist place that sucked on him convulsively as if she would dra
in the last drop of life force from him before letting go. It was pleasure such as he had never known…thought-robbing, breath-stealing, sensational pleasure, at an extreme he could never have believed possible. They needed each other, and that need was equally balanced, he realised, drawing back at the brink to look down at her flushed cheeks and passion-dampened face. What he saw mirrored his own fierce ecstasy. He slowed his strokes, making them long and firm, relishing each shuddering cry that escaped her lips and the sweet pain of her fingernails as they raked across his shoulders when she called out for satisfaction. But he would not be hurried. This was an experience to be savoured, and savour it he would, until the fire became an inferno, and with a few firm, fast strokes he pushed her over the edge into sensation-filled oblivion. He held himself aloof to relish the moment as she cried out his name, repeating it over and over as each fresh pleasure wave claimed her. And only when she stilled in his arms and moaned softly with contentment did he increase the pace again and find his own savage release.
Sliding out of her was the hardest thing he ever had to do, Xavier acknowledged, knowing Sophie felt it too when she groaned a soft complaint. But people were waiting for him…deputations, politicians, cameras. He sighed heavily as she clutched at him, her eyes still closed against reality, dozing in the light, sated slumber from which he knew he could so easily wake her, so easily arouse her again. But he could not stay in bed all day even if he wanted to and, with one final kiss, he went to take a shower.
‘How can you go when I still want you so badly?’ Sophie murmured sleepily when he returned to her at last to say goodbye.
‘We have all the time in the world,’ Xavier promised, sitting on the bed for a moment to relish her beauty. ‘And if I make you wait you will only want me all the more.’
‘I couldn’t possibly want you more than I do,’ Sophie argued, toying with the buttons on the front of his crisp white shirt.
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