Playing the Billionaire (International Temptation)

by MK Meredith

  “I don’t want to think about anything but how you feel right now in my arms.” His whisper was both a demand and a request.

  With each steady beat of his heart, she fell deeper into her post-hottest-sex-in-her-life coma.

  She wasn’t sure what time it had been when she’d fallen asleep wrapped in Mateu’s arms, but if she was reading the clock correctly through the tangled tendrils of her hair, it was about time she should be getting up. The memories of the night and all the feelings associated with it came crashing back to her in the early light of a new day with a certain measure of pain.

  Careful not to jostle the bed, she turned toward him. She wasn’t so sure she was ready to face him yet. She’d never connected with someone so intensely, but it shouldn’t have happened. Not with all the lies between them.

  And apparently, she wasn’t the only one to think so. The pillow next to her was empty. She slid her hand along the indentation where his head had been and found it cool to the touch. Whatever time they’d fallen asleep, he hadn’t stayed long. On a sigh, she sat up, holding her sheet at her breast. “Mateu?”

  Silence greeted her.

  Over on the desk was her pair of heels sitting in front of a painting. Pushing from the bed, she made her way to the desk. There, leaning back against the wallpaper, was a limited-edition print of the painting of a woman with a red flower, Profile of a Young Girl. One of her favorites.

  She reached out her hand, lightly trailing the edge of the print. Her heart was so bombarded, she almost felt numb. A note lay between the shoes and the print.

  A small sample of the Picasso tour soon to come.

  A memory to take with you,

  since you’ve left so many here with me.

  M.

  A burning pressure built in her chest. The thought and effort behind the painting, not to mention her heels; it was all too much.

  What was she doing? She wanted everything between them to be real, to be true.

  But there was no truth between them. Not on his side…or hers.

  How could she expect him to confess his sins while she still committed her own? As much as she wanted to continue her vacation in the luxury of Mateu’s lifestyle, of the Huntington lifestyle, she wanted honesty more. And she wanted love.

  His love.

  There was only one thing she could do now.

  She’d already bared everything else to him, now she had to bare her soul and tell him the truth.

  …

  Mateu stared across the orchard as Friday’s first rays peeked out from the horizon and wondered if he’d ever sunk as low as he had last night.

  He was on the brink of something foreign, something that both scared and enthralled him. There’d been a risk in making love to her. And though, deep down, he knew he should have stopped, there was nothing save a natural disaster that could have made him give her up.

  Her warm scent had clouded his head. Would he ever tire of her taste, of the feel of her in his arms?

  The answer was terrifying.

  But he had no choice.

  He’d never been in this position before. Oh, he’d had plenty of bedmates, but nothing like this. Nothing that left him feeling as though he stood on rocky ground. The last time he let himself feel even a fraction of what was running through him, he’d had his heart tossed to the ground a week after he’d proposed.

  Something he’d do well to remember.

  Before he knew it, she’d be on a plane back to the States.

  “Estimat.”

  His mother’s voice carried through the large French doors from his bedroom to the balcony. She stood in the doorframe as the curtains fluttered about her. She was still so beautiful, and it killed him to see the worry in her eyes whenever he caught her watching his father.

  “Mare. Did I wake you?” he asked in Catalan, carefully sliding from the hammock.

  “No, just getting the day started.” She gripped the railing in her hands, her gaze moving along the landscape toward the sunrise. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  He joined her. “You were right, she was tired, so I took her back to the hotel. She was sorry not to have said good-bye.”

  “Of course, we loved having you.” His mother looked back at the rumpled condition of his bed. “You are having trouble sleeping? You missed Horchata. You never sleep as well when you miss your Horchata.”

  He rubbed a hand through his hair with a look of chagrin. He hadn’t grown up in a household of secrets. So there was something uncomfortable in not telling his mother the truth.

  “I like her, estimat,” his mother said sweetly.

  He glanced over to where he’d lain in the hammock, dreaming of her. It was as if she’d rested with him against the painted sunset of the sky. “I do, too.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.” He’d already caused irrevocable damage by sleeping with her.

  “You have always been so smart. Help me understand why you stopped.”

  A soft chuckle escaped his lips. Moving closer to the railing on the other side of his mother, he leaned in to it. “I can’t do that again, Mare. Open myself up like that. I learned my lesson.”

  “This young lady is nothing like Clara. You can tell in the way she smiles at Felip and listens to your father.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Maybe so. But she’s going back to the States.”

  And I’m using her. For work, anyway, because the God’s honest truth was that he hadn’t enjoyed the sights of Barcelona more with anyone else. She was smart and kind and pulled an energy from him he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “Her mother is there, her work is there. And mine is here.”

  “But, carinyo…”

  “Mother, she may seem much different from Clara. But she isn’t, really.” He fell back on the one sticking point that was beginning to feel more like an excuse than a reality. “I’ve spent the last few days with her, and she enjoys the depths of my wallet without blinking an eye. I will not be used like that again.” His tone dismissed further conversation, but he did not miss the disappointment in her eyes.

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he kissed the top of her head. “She is lovely, of course. And she had the nicest visit thanks to you. But she is not for me.” The truth was that he wasn’t the one for her. She deserved better.

  Agueda turned a smile up at him. “Like I said, you are usually so smart.”

  His father’s figure appeared along the edge of the lemon orchard with a ladder in tow and two of his cousins following behind him with their hands gesturing wildly in the air.

  “Why is he up so early?” he asked, bewildered.

  “There is the other one I used to think was so smart.” His mother huffed and hurried back through his room. “Think about what I said. I need to go stop that stubborn old goat before he breaks something we can’t fix.” His mother stepped through his door, closing it behind her.

  “I will.” He promised. It wasn’t possible to stop thinking about London, but it didn’t change the facts, either.

  She haunted his dreams then disappeared in the cruel light of day. He’d watched her sleep a bit before he’d left the hotel. He loved the way her face rested so easy, absent of the constant worry always evident in her gaze.

  His mother was right, she was different.

  But different wouldn’t help his father. It wouldn’t help the family orchard. Short of quitting the job he’d sweat blood and tears for over the past decade, the only way he could be there for the family that had always been there for him was through using her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Who the hell puts sunbathing at a nude beach on their must-do list? Especially the day after making the biggest mistake of her life?

  Fully clothed, London pretended to study the blue waters of the beach instead of the muscled striations of Mateu’s back as he spread a large blanket out in the sand. Remorse weighed
heavily upon her shoulders, and she tried to shake it loose. Why the hell had she given in to her silly brain and slept with Mateu? There was so much deceit between the two of them it made her head spin. At this rate, her vacation was becoming almost more stressful than her homelife. So much for keeping a sound mind and her distance.

  She had to tell him the truth. But, no matter how brave she was, she couldn’t do it naked. She slapped her palm to her forehead.

  “What was that for?” Mateu laughed. If anyone had ever accused her of being googly-eyed, she’d have punched them in the face, but every time that man looked her way, spoke her name, or touched her in the most casual manner, her body silently screamed, take me!

  Traitor.

  Peeking out from under her hand, she focused on the amused expression on his face, trying like hell to keep her eyes in place. She shouldn’t have slept with him—most certainly could not do it again—but there he stood tall and beautiful and very, very naked.

  “I forgot to tell you thank you. For the painting,” she said. “It’s one of my favorites. How did you know?”

  “How do you say in English…absolute sheer luck. I’d like to say karma must be on my side, but in this case I think it’s on yours.”

  She laughed at the absurdity in his statement, then coughed into her hand. “Not so much.”

  With a tilt of his head, he asked. “Why would you say that?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but then he raked his fingers through his hair, flexing his biceps into a large round ball of mouthwatering goodness, and every thought flew from her brain. His skin was taut and smooth and tanned from the Spanish sun. He may be a businessman, but years of working in the orchards had carved such beauty that the greatest sculptures in the world would be green with envy. Shit, and everyone gave teenage boys a hard time for not being able to handle their hormones. Try being an early-thirties woman in front of a man built like one of the world’s most highly regarded masterpieces. Put it back in your pants, lady.

  She dropped her arm and straightened her spine with a dismissive shake of her head.

  Gesturing to her sundress, he said, “You did want to come to the beach. The nude…beach. Even over a generous offering of a day of pampering and relaxation back at the hotel.”

  Easy for him to say, and as far as the spa went, she’d been a few times, at all hours—and wouldn’t he love to know she’d been impressed. She didn’t miss the irritation in his eyes, and pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Every time she got him off the property was a little victory.

  Trying to find the nerve to drop her dress, she tapped her chin. “Yes, but the reality of it is much, much grander than the fantasy.” It was one thing for him to see her naked in the soft light of the evening and on her back where gravity was her friend. But under the harsh light of the noontime sun where nothing could hide, not even her pride?

  “Kind of like sex with a Catalan? That should definitely have been on your agenda. You could have checked off another item.” He threw her a playful wink but then rubbed the back of his neck as if in regret.

  Sonofabitch, if he told her he regretted them having sex, she would die of embarrassment. It was one thing for her to question her own sanity. It was another for him to regret it after seeing her in the light of day. She didn’t think she could handle that kind of rejection at such an early hour.

  She rolled her eyes because he wasn’t wrong in his assessment. Making love to him had been a huge mistake. But worse, now that they had, she didn’t know how she’d live without doing it again.

  Well, hell. If she had to do difficult things, she might as well start now. Hooking one finger under the strap of her wrap dress, she pulled it from her shoulders.

  Mateu’s eyes darkened. “On second thought.”

  The fact that he wasn’t as calm and collected as he looked emboldened her. She could do this if he was going to struggle, too. Maybe not for the same reasons she did, because she doubted he worried about how his ass measured up to the natives’ or if her boobs would pass the perk test.

  No, his discomfort was the kind that put a little swing in her step and swag in her hips. Well, here goes her tried and true trick of getting through life. Fake it till you make it.

  With a deep breath, she let her dress drop. The sun warmed her skin in a way that was so delicious she had to refrain from stretching into it like a cat. She’d read the twenty-six worst things you could do at a nude beach, and stretching or bending over in a way that exposed the netherworlds was a huge no-no.

  Gazing up and down the length of the beach, this time the beauty of it stunned her. The deep azure of the water made a brilliant contrast to the sparkling foam crashing ashore; the rough-grained sand under her toes was warm from the sun until you dug in, then it was cool. To the north lay a cluster of green velvet-covered hills tumbling out into the sea, and to the south, more water and sand until it disappeared into the soft blur of the horizon. She could stay here forever and not miss a thing back in the States.

  She frowned. Except her mother.

  “Get over here.”

  She turned her head to find Mateu resting back on his elbows on their large blanket, his muscular legs stretched long before him and crossed at the ankles. The look in his eyes promised all sorts of magic if they were behind closed doors, and that part of him she had become so thrilled with yesterday lay long and thick against his thigh.

  “Quit looking at me like that or I’m going to lose the battle I’m waging.”

  She grinned. “A battle?” Her eyes flicked over him once more.

  “London.” He growled.

  She lowered next to him, careful not to flash a passerby, then scooted close. “Please, you’ve been with dozens of stunning women from all over the world, I’m sure. Don’t act like you can’t handle being around me.”

  He studied her intently for a moment as if struggling with a thought. Finally, he answered. “Not one of them made me feel like you do.”

  Damn it. There was that look again, that tone. Her heart believed him, but her brain told her she was being fucking ridiculous.

  Was there even the slightest chance maybe this was real for him, too? A sadness filled her chest at the answer.

  She just needed to get him to confess that he was scamming her. At least then they could discuss if what she felt was baseless or reality. Right now she had no clue.

  Resting back, she closed her eyes and focused on the heat of the sun on parts of her body she’d never felt it before. It was delicious. So much so, she promised herself this would not be the last nude beach she sunbathed at. She hadn’t had a headache since she’d settled in, even with her midnight excursions to review the hotel in private—and that was never the case. If only she could figure out how to maintain this calm, to keep her panic and stress to a low hum instead of a raging blare.

  Thank God her mom was okay. She had a chance to catch up with her somewhere between her two a.m. entrees and hotel specialty aromatherapy rub. Margo was staying with Alanna for a day or two, and Susan was checking in. That alone allowed a bit of weight to fall from her shoulders. A bit. Unfortunately, she still had their ongoing medical bills to figure out. She’d been tallying her savings all along, and as long as she finished the job here, she had her mother’s care covered for at least three months, pending no more hospital stays. That would give her time to find a second job. Though that meant more time away from her mother, and the guilt of that was a whole other story.

  Bottom line, she would do anything to make sure her mother had the best care. She just had to make sure she, herself, didn’t end up in the hospital doing it. There was no helping her mom from the shackles of sterile sheets and an IV line.

  She breathed in the salty air. “This is extraordinary. I had no idea.”

  “Quite decadent, no? I remember the first time I came as a child. The sun warmed me. No one cared about anything except relaxing and letting all the stresses of life fall to the wayside.”

 
She supported her head on her hand, facing him. “In the States, people practically turn themselves into pretzels while changing in the locker room to hide their bodies.”

  A seagull flew overhead, and his gaze followed it. “Here sex is sexual, not the body by default. More a certain look, a caress, the tone of your voice. But in America the word has a dirty connotation. I never understood it, but I’m not from there.”

  “My mother was very open with me growing up, but even for me, dropping my dress in public was an exercise in determination and self-acceptance.”

  He raised a brow at her. “Which is where we have a bit of a problem.” Lowering his hand to her hip, he stopped just before touching her, then drew it back. “Because your body is very sexual to me. I’m finding it very difficult to separate the two in your case.”

  She shook her finger. “It is a known rule there are to be no public displays of affection at a nude beach.”

  He sat up, his lips in a thin line and his jaw set. She couldn’t help comparing the heat from his gaze to that from the sun and finding the celestial body quite lacking. How would it feel to wake up to that look every morning?

  She’d never know, and the sad fact pulled at the corners of her mouth.

  She stood, then reached out her hand. “Come. I want to find shells to remember this day by.”

  Enveloping her hand with his own, he joined her. “Tourists collecting shells from beaches is harming the beach ecosystem. Why don’t I buy you…”

  “Buy me?” She looked at him with as innocent a gaze as she was capable of when her heart squeezed in anticipation of his answer.

  He stiffened next to her for the briefest second, but to his credit, he resumed an easy gate. Stepping in front of her, he laced his fingers in hers and walked backward. “Buying you? With expensive vermouth tastings and gourmet cooking classes?” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I’d say if that was my plan, it’s been very successful. And you certainly haven’t minded in the least. Have you?”