by CC MacKenzie
He squeezed her shoulder, pulling her closer and she resisted the crazy urge to crawl back onto his lap.
“Right back at you.” He tipped up her chin to study her face. “I’m not a patient man, Coco. And you’re testing me.”
She blinked at the look in his eye and told him the honest truth.
“I don’t want to want you. And I don’t want you to want me, either.”
He flashed her a wide grin and she realised the sexual tension that had been sparking in the room had levelled off.
“At least you admit there is something between us. Progress.”
She narrowed her eyes at the satisfaction in that smile.
“Don’t look so smug. Wanting and doing are two entirely different things. You had your chance and blew it.”
His brows rose as he took her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.
A move that shot another hot spear of arousal into her system.
“You were a child.” Those eyes went soft as he looked at her, reminding her now of dark velvet. “You’re not a child now.” The words, a low throaty purr, had her heart kick before it picked up the pace. “Where are Olivia Kandinsky and her son?”
She opened her mouth to tell him, and then closed it with a snap.
Oh, he was a smooth operator all right and a clever one, too.
She had to admire that.
“I’ll tell you when you take me home.”
The temper was back in his eyes.
But he said nothing as he stood and closed his suitcase.
While Olivia and her son had been whisked to safety, Coco was attending the opening of the Blue Lagoon Two in front of the world’s media. Anyone snooping around her schedule would see she’d had a jam-packed twenty-four hours. There was nothing to connect her with the disappearance of the Russian’s wife and child.
She followed Rafe as he stalked down the stairs.
Kandinsky might leave no stone unturned to get his family back, but she was confident he’d find nothing to link Louise or her to their disappearance.
The question buzzing around her mind was how Rafe had got wind of the fact they were missing and how the hell he’d connected them to her?
Reaction was setting in now, exhaustion replacing the adrenalin rush.
With a flourish Rafe opened the car door, and she tucked herself into the corner of the back seat.
Chewing on her bottom lip Coco decided she’d get answers once she’d settled him into the guest wing. And hid a little smile from the gimlet gaze searching her face. No point in provoking him further. She would drip-feed him information when necessary.
He was in for a surprise or two that was certain.
Of course, how he would react was quite another matter.
That was the trouble with Rafael Cavendish, you could never tell which way he’d jump.
Chapter Twelve
“You do not drink alcohol?”
Jacob’s deep voice vibrated through her system. And once again Janine was relieved that she felt absolutely nothing for a spectacular looking man.
“I’m still breast-feeding Boo. I suppose I could have a small one.”
“White or red?”
“I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re having.”
Jacob studied the wine list, gave the waiter the order and then sat back.
His eyes twinkled in appreciation as his dark gaze took a leisurely stroll over her blonde hair, her face and over her simple sleeveless top of ivory silk with its pearl beads stitched into the neckline.
Wearing her best skinny designer jeans in black and open toed flat sandals, her sun kissed arms were naked of jewellery except for a simple timepiece in stainless steel and her grandmother’s engagement ring. An emerald set in twenty-two carat gold that sat on the fourth finger of her right hand. Her left hand was bare of her wedding band. She saw his eyes take note before they returned to meet hers.
“I don’t wear my wedding or engagement rings,” she stated the obvious and wondered what had possessed her to even mention it. No way was she going to open up that can of worms.
Dark eyes studied her carefully.
Again there was no sliver of awareness, no little tremble in her belly.
“I imagine they bring back too many happy memories.”
She managed to swallow a bitter laugh.
Happy memories?
If he only knew.
But she smiled anyway. “Something like that.”
“I heard he died in a car accident. What happened?”
Oh God, were they going to exchange life stories?
She hoped not.
But decided to go with the truth.
“A head on collision. He was killed instantly.”
His brow rose fractionally at her clipped tone.
“If it is too painful... I apologise...”
“No,” she interrupted. And paused while the waiter poured a sample of wine into Jacob’s glass. He inhaled the bouquet, sipped, nodded in approval. Once the waiter had poured them each half a glass and left she continued, “We were based in a small Gulf state. Very wealthy, but restrictive on where women could go unaccompanied. I wasn’t permitted to drive. And we didn’t live in the company compound with the rest of the executives and their families. We’d been living there for three months. Anyway, it was a difficult time for me without family or friends as support.”
She’d never tell him or another living soul about the five days she spent in hospital while they patched up her bloodied and bruised body. At first the British consul who helped her ship Connor’s remains home assumed she’d been in the car crash, too. It wasn’t until much later that he’d realised the marks were from fists and feet, and worse. Marks made by the man who’d sworn before God to honour, to cherish and to love her until death.
And may God forgive her but death had been a viable get out of life clause that she’d seriously considered before the bastard had been killed. Even now the thought of everything she might have lost had she done the deed and committed suicide made her feel so terribly guilty. She’d never have experienced the joy of having a baby grow inside her, of giving birth, alone, to her beautiful daughter.
Her baby had saved her in so many ways that Janine knew she’d been truly blessed.
How could such a gift have been given to her when her child had been created not out of love but out of rape?
Why on earth was she thinking of such things now when Jacob was staring at her with dark eyes filled to the brim with sympathy, with pity?
If he only knew that she got on her knees and gave thanks every single day that the monster was now dead, cremated. And hopefully burning very brightly in eternal hell.
Jacob’s hand found hers across the table and held on tight.
Her eyes filled at the gesture of support.
What a kind and lovely guy.
“I am sorry, querida. I did not mean to upset you. They say time is a great healer.”
And she could only hope that was true, because these days the night terrors were getting worse instead of better. No matter how hard she tried to forget, to bury herself in work, in the care of her child, the sly voice of her dead husband still whispered too loud and clear in her brain.
Every day was a battle for supremacy in the constant war between her sanity and the internal critic who lived deep inside her psyche.
And Janine was very much afraid that if she didn’t get help, and soon, the dark dog of depression would win. The trouble was she didn’t know where to start to get the help she so badly needed.
The stark terror of losing her child held her too tightly in its grip.
If she went to her general practitioner he was legally obliged to report a vulnerable woman and her child to the authorities. If she ever lost her daughter it would finish her. She had thought of unburdening herself to Bronte. But at the moment her friend was struggling with running a super successful business, motherhood, and being married to a very demanding Nico Ferranti.
Poor Br
onte, Janine shivered.
She couldn’t imagine anything worse than being tied to a man like Nico.
And as far as she was concerned he fell right into the category of being over-controlling and far too dominant. Oh, she knew her friend was blissfully happy, at the moment. But Janine was under no illusions that if Bronte ever got on the bad side of her husband, he would make life very difficult for her friend.
Jacob was watching her too closely and she realised her hand was holding his too tightly.
Forcing herself to relax, she sent him a tentative smile.
“They do say time heals, don’t they. Unfortunately they don’t tell you how much time it takes.”
His thumb rubbed the skin on the back of her hand.
“I think it is different for each one of us.”
“I’m sorry about the break-up of your engagement. Gabriella Dolman is a beautiful woman. Had you been together long?”
In his eyes she watched sympathy for her slide away to be replaced by a mixture of emotions; deep hurt and bitter fury.
“A year. I knew as soon as I saw her that she belonged to me.”
She blinked at his choice of words.
“Everyone has a basic human right to self-determination, to decide for themselves if a relationship is working for them or not. No person owns another,” she said gently, even as she recognised her words had wounded him.
The pain in his dark eyes, the lines of anguish around his mouth, pierced her heart.
Poor man.
He was suffering so much.
“Si. I understand that. What I cannot forget is how she felt in my arms, in my bed, just two nights before she left me for someone else. That I cannot understand. And when I find her I will expect her to explain herself. I have questions that need answered. Until then I am trapped.”
“Don’t you know where she is, who she’s with?”
He shook his head.
“We think she’s living in Europe. But we can’t find her. It’s as if she’s dropped off the face of the earth.”
“We?”
His face flushed but his eyes held hers.
“Private investigators, and my brother Lucas has put out feelers, but we’ve heard nothing.”
“But what about her family, her friends, her agent? Gabriella Dolman has a famous face, someone, somewhere must know where she is.”
‘Si. But her agent has no idea. I flew to New York to speak to Tobin Gillespie and he is as confused as I am. All she said to him was that her life had taken an unexpected turn and she wanted to concentrate on a new career. Her sister Sophie is working in Kenya, studying mosquito colonies for the World Health Organisation. She told me Gabriella wants to move on, that she is fine and to leave her in peace. Since then Sophie has not returned my calls, my messages.”
Janine placed her other hand over his.
“After a year don’t you think it’s time to move on?”
“Until I speak to Gabriella face to face to understand what happened, how it went wrong, where it went wrong, I cannot do that.”
And that was how Joshua Erichsen found them, with Janine’s swimming eyes gazing into Jacob’s, with their hands holding across the table, and with his heart being torn from his chest.
His date tugged at his arm.
“Josh, we’re being shown to our table. Are you okay?”
“What? Yeah, sure. Sorry, was miles away.”
How fair was it that the first night he’d taken a woman out in months he had to pick the Bar and Grill?
Christ, Janine looked amazing.
Her hair had grown over the past few weeks. The softer style suited her high cheekbones and feminine jaw. His body reacted as it always did around her, with a roar of arousal. Again, his date tugged his arm to attract his attention. A small part of his brain reminded him that he wasn’t behaving well. Another part couldn’t give a damn.
“Hang on,” he told her as she took her seat at their table. “I’ll be back in a minute, I just want to say hello to a couple of friends.”
He ignored the hurt pout, the big brown eyes. And he even ignored his conscience telling him that abandoning his date, not introducing her to his friends was incredibly bad manners. But again he didn’t give a damn.
Sliding through the tables he finally reached Jacob and Janine.
Jacob stood and he shook his hand.
Janine stayed right where she was.
Normally he’d buss the cheek of a woman acquaintance or give them a hug. But this woman had Do Not Touch written all over her.
Why couldn’t he behave like a normal human being in front of her?
So like a pussy he just raised his hand.
“Hi,” he said as Jacob sat, reached across the table and took Janine’s hand in his. “We’ve just arrived and I thought I’d come over and say hello.”
Christ, how pathetic did that sound?
The whole time he couldn’t take his eyes from Janine.
She’d gone tense the way she always did around him and Jacob was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Small world,” Jacob drawled.
“Isn’t it? Er... I’ve the approved plans for The Grange, they need a signature. When can I drop them off, Janine?”
With a reluctance that made his teeth ache, she turned to him and looked up.
And what he saw there in her eyes, as if he was a turd on her shoe, made him want to howl at the moon.
“Tomorrow morning at Sweet Sensations would be good.”
Okay. That was fine, tomorrow was fine.
She turned those big blue eyes on Jacob as if he was her favourite person in the whole universe, squeezed his hand.
And Josh felt that squeeze in his lungs. He could hardly breathe with the pain of it.
So much for, There’s nothing between us.
Yeah, right.
For an unending moment he couldn’t take his eyes away from their joined hands.
Then he realised Jacob was watching him as if he was a grenade with the pin pulled.
“Your friend is looking for you, Josh.”
Shit.
“Ah, yes. I’ll see you tomorrow for our run.”
Jacob’s eyes met his, held.
“I look forward to it,” he said in a silky voice. The tone making it loud and clear that he was to back off.
Bastard.
What the hell was she doing looking at Jacob like that?
And why the fuck did he care?
He had a gorgeous, willing woman waiting for him.
And by Christ he was going to get laid this night.
Josh stood up straight and tall.
“See you in the morning,” he said to the Spaniard. Then he turned to find Janine’s wary blue eyes staring up at him. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, too.”
Count on it, baby.
Tomorrow he was going to clear the air between them once and for all. Or Janine Faulkner could find herself another architect. He’d had enough of her looking at him like that, treating him as if he was Hannibal Lecter.
“Have a nice evening,” Jacob said.
“You, too.”
Keeping an eye on his date, Josh made his way towards their table and deliberately sat with his back to Jacob and Janine.
He was damned if a woman was going to treat him like shit.
He’d had enough.
He was at the end of the rope, the end of his tether.
For the rest of an endless night he did his best to entertain his date by focusing his attention purely on her.
Shame that at the end of the evening he couldn’t recall a single word he’d said.
And he went to bed alone.
Chapter Thirteen
On their way to Coco’s house Rafe could almost hear the wheels turning in her complicated mind.
He’d need his wits about him.
If she didn’t trust him enough to tell him what was going on, he’d take control of the situation. The first thing he needed to do was to
remove her from the threat. Ideally, take her out of the country, but she’d never agree to that plan.
So he’d simply take her ability to choose out of the equation.
His contact had told him Kandinsky was being investigated for running Internet fraud, identity theft, on a massive scale with links to organised crime. His many homes were bugged. Coco’s name had been mentioned as someone Olivia was close to and it wasn’t only Coco he was looking at either; the man had a long list of people to investigate.
Apparently the Russian was not prepared to go to the authorities for help to find his missing family, which said it all as far as Rafe was concerned.
Coco’s reaction in the car told him she was up to her neck in it.
The trick would be to get the information out of her.
She was stubborn in that respect, just like her father.
The car swung through electronic gates of a private estate and sped uphill.
A mile later, they emerged from a thick forest to a bluff over which he could see a lake. A full moon hung suspended in the night sky reflected on the water and he made out a single storey building.
Coco rummaged around her purse, brought out an electronic sensor. She clicked the button and a solid metal gate slid into the high wall surrounding the house.
Rafe got out of the car.
He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this unimpressive facade.
It looked like a concrete box.
Opening her door he took Coco’s hand, helped her out.
Keying in the number on a digital door lock she opened a vast modern door made of bleached oak.
As she stepped through into an enormous entrance hall motion sensors switched on lights throughout the building and grounds.
Coco sank onto a chair, untied and kicked off her shoes and padded into the space.
She crossed to a wide staircase constructed of bleached oak and leaned over the tempered glass balcony.
“Honey, I’m home,” she yelled. And grinned at Rafe’s bland stare.
A deep woof came from below.
Tail wagging like crazy a St. Bernard the size of a small pony lumbered up the stairs.
Burying her face in the thick fur Coco rubbed the dog’s massive head.
