She wished he would take her to bed.
They needed to get off the yacht fast before she did something she’d regret.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, let’s do it.”
.
The huge diamond on Helen’s ring finger flashed as she ran her hand film-star style through her hair and the paparazzi cameras lit up the night sky. She was showing off like a natural on the parapets of Ibiza town and looked stunning in the red silk wrap dress she’d chosen from her trousseau. She had conspired in his tipping off the biggest news agencies before they’d arrived, seemed quite excited by the prospect and was now acting up a storm.
To Ricardo’s surprise Helen was turning out to be the perfect media wife if her current performance was anything to go by.
“Why Ibiza for your wedding night, Ricardo?” a paparazzi shouted.
“Why not?” he called back. “It’s where we met, the White Isle, and we love it here.”
A female photographer leaned in close, the tool of her trade still clicking like a cicada. “Going clubbing later?”
Ricardo blinked in the flashlights, but smiled graciously. “Of course.”
The woman switched her attention to Helen. “Mrs. Almanza, what’s it like to be married to the ex most eligible man in Europe?”
“Just Europe?” Helen grinned. “It’s wonderful. Ricardo is the man of my dreams, perfect in every way…”
There was a ripple of applause and the sea of flashing cameras acted like a lightning storm.
“Guys.” Ricardo gestured with his hands that the mob should settle. “It’s deal time. We give you an exclusive if you let us have an evening meal in peace. It is our honeymoon after all.” There was a collective affirmative murmur and a few wolf whistles. “I guess that’s a yes. Okay.”
Ricardo’s ears rang with the roar of the crowd as he took Helen in his arms and kissed her hard. She arched her body into his, running her hands through his hair and he felt a burst of shock as she raised her thigh to wrap it around his hip. The skirt of her wrap dress fell open and he hurriedly grasped her leg in an attempt to cover her bare flesh, but the way her tongue was behaving in his mouth told him modesty was not at the forefront of her mind. Her being crushed so wantonly against him exacerbated the involuntary stiffening below his belt. They were in danger of making a worldwide spectacle of themselves. He pulled his mouth away and eased her leg back down to the ground. “Easy,” he whispered harshly into her hair. “You’ve given them enough.”
“And I was having so much fun,” she whispered back.
His tone was stern. “Later.”
The crowd parted as Ricardo painted on a billionaire playboy smile, and his security team cleared their path to an exclusive restaurant entrance nearby. He didn’t enjoy having to be a performing seal, but sometimes it was unavoidable. However, the last thing he needed was a loose cannon for a wife for the next three months making things even worse. A performance like that would guarantee even more interest in them. He could see the rash of vulgar magazine covers already, with her smooth pale thigh taking centre stage. He suppressed a shiver and was relieved to reach the sanctuary of a private restaurant balcony overlooking Ibiza harbor.
Ricardo ordered champagne and then waited in silence until the restaurant owner left them alone with the menus. “You didn’t need to go quite so far out there.”
“No? It’s what they wanted, what you wanted. We should get some peace now. You said we would.”
“That performance has probably made matters worse. The pictures will go worldwide by morning, and the entire planet’s press will be drooling over what Senora Almanza is going to do next.” He picked up a knife and tapped the handle rhythmically on the table. “And what will your parents think?”
“They don’t buy newspapers or any magazine besides Farmers Weekly. I shouldn’t think they’ll notice.”
“It will be all over the Internet.”
Helen chuckled. “They don’t have a computer or watch anything other than local TV and that gets switched off after the local news.” She twirled her wine glass between her fingers and watched the bubbles dance for a few seconds. “Besides, they think we’re besotted newlyweds, for God’s sake. Where’s the problem?”
There was no problem. The problem was all inside him and the way he had felt when she had flaunted herself that way. The tension knotting his neck and shoulders was a strong as a trawler’s net. “Your bra is showing.”
Helen glanced down at the tiny glimpse of black satin and lace that was peeking out underneath the red silk of her dress. “It’s supposed to show. It’s the fashion with this sort of neckline.”
“Really?”
“Oh come on, Ricardo, let’s cut out all the prudery. Playboy billionaires don’t date shrinking violets, do they? Let alone marry one.”
“You surprised me, that’s all. I didn’t think you were like that.”
“Like what?”
“Exuberant.”
She bent to whisper across the table. “Of course you didn’t. You don’t know me at all. It’s a marriage of convenience, remember? A marriage to win a bet.”
“To settle a matter of honor.”
“Oh yes, of course, silly me.”
“A marriage for which you’ve been well paid. Please don’t forget that in all your excitement.”
Chapter Seven
“Had enough?”
Helen nodded and didn’t even try to shout her reply to Ricardo over the pounding music and fireworks inside the club. She was soaked to the skin with sweat and sickly sweet smelling alcohol, and although he’d bought her plenty of water to drink, the dry ice and unbearable heat made her throat feel like sandpaper. Her chest was feeling tighter by the minute. He had taken her to three of the most famous clubs in Ibiza, hotly pursued by photographers. As far as her love of clubbing was concerned he had well and truly called her bluff.
She slipped off her scarlet heels and dangled them from her fingertips as a bouncer led them through a “Staff Only” door. As it closed behind them, the throb of the music still vibrated under her bare feet and her ears were muzzy, but at least she now felt better able to breathe again. She shot Ricardo a look over her shoulder. “I don’t want to have to do that again in a hurry!”
Ricardo, following close behind, was disarmingly disheveled. “No need to shout,” he mouthed playfully.
Helen grinned back. “Sorry, deaf as a post, so noisy in there!”
The air outside the back door of the club was cool on her face and the sky shimmered with stars as Ricardo relieved her of her handbag and then took her by the hand as they walked down a side street towards the marina. “I thought you’d want to stay for a few more hours.”
The palm of his hand was dry and warm, wrapped around hers and she fought the urge to squeeze it. “Perhaps now would be the time to confess that I’ve never been that into the clubbing scene.”
“Seriously?”
“Tonight was my second time and how can you be surprised? I asked someone how much it cost to get in when you were in the loo. A hundred euros one bloke paid and that’s before you start spending fifteen euros on a drink!”
“You know money’s not a problem now.”
“And I don’t like the music that much either.”
Ricardo chuckled and surprised her by suddenly stopping in the middle of the deserted street. He pulled her into his chest until his mouth was inches from hers. “Thank God for that,” he muttered and kissed her softly on the lips.
Helen’s eyes closed and she didn’t resist as the kiss deepened. Couldn’t resist. His mouth felt and tasted too good. Her nerve endings sizzled as his warm fingers trailed the length of her neck, skimmed the sides of her breasts and then closed around her waist, pulling her tightly against him in the cool night air. She wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending she didn’t want him, but was too tired to fight it anymore. “We should find somewhere to sleep,” she whispered as his mouth found the pulse in her neck. “Ther
e’s always my place. I’ve a spare key hidden outside still.”
“I’m never letting you go back to that dump.” He brushed his fingers across her breast, lingering on the tight bead that was pushing against the silk of her dress. “However much I want to take advantage of you right now.”
“We could—”
“I own the Gran Finca Hotel, woman. And the Playa Caribe.” He laughed into her hair. “That equates to at least a hundred king size beds with air conditioning and breakfast in the morning.”
“Oh.”
“But I’m feeling wild now the fresh air’s hit me. I want to take you down to the beach and—”
“Hey!”
Helen jumped at the sound of another man’s voice behind them. It was familiar.
“Helen! Marshymallow! It’s me!”
She turned to see a man in cut off jeans with shoulder-length blond hair and tattooed arms. “Bjorn!”
“It is you! I’d recognize that arse anywhere. Nice dress!”
Ricardo’s arms tightened around her waist. She smiled back cheerfully at the other man. “Thank you.”
“Would you care to introduce me to your… friend?”
“Oh, yes, sorry. Ricardo, this is Bjorn. We worked together once and he runs the archaeology course I went to before, before you and I met.” She held her breath as Bjorn held out his hand. Ricardo didn’t return the gesture for a few seconds. To her relief he eventually did. “And Bjorn, Ricardo is my very new husband.”
Bjorn’s sandy-colored eyebrows snapped together over his blue eyes. “Husband! But it was only two weeks ago we—”
“It’s been a bit of a whirlwind romance. I’ve not had a chance to tell everyone yet.”
“Well.” Bjorn raked nail-bitten fingers through his mane and appeared to force a smile. “I guess it’s congratulations to you guys. Want to come back to mine for a bite to eat? We could crack open a few beers, watch the sun rise with one of my signature curries.”
“Oh that’s very kind of you, but—”
“But we need to be somewhere,” Ricardo said abruptly.
Bjorn sighed. “Finishing your sentences for each other already?” His smile faded. “How cute.”
Ricardo glared back. “And we’re running late.”
“I get the message, big guy,” Bjorn said cockily, and reached out to run a fingertip over Helen’s shoulder. “You know where I am if, well, y’know …”
Helen felt Ricardo’s tension make her own body stiffen. “Everything’s fine,” she said firmly. “See you around.”
“You won’t,” Ricardo muttered as they watched him stride off down an alleyway. “Not if I have anything to do with it anyway.”
“You don’t own me, Almanza.”
“You’re my wife and we have a business deal. Associating with people like that is beneath someone of your standing now.”
“What?”
Ricardo ignored the disbelief that must have been obvious on her face. “If you want beer and curry I will buy it for you, you don’t need that hippy.”
“Are you a tiny bit drunk?”
Ricardo sniffed and looked around them for a moment. “A little. We were having a good time before he turned up.”
“Then stop sulking.” She giggled at his jealous outburst. “Buy me a kebab from somewhere, will you. I’m starving!”
…
Ricardo watched as Helen wrapped both her hands around a meat-stuffed pita bread and sank her teeth hungrily into it. He’d never seen a woman do anything like that before. Food had always been a neat and tidy, finger-picking, delicate-morsel-nibbling affair. She was fascinating. She was so completely different from any female he had ever known. He looked down at his own extra large gyro and took the plunge.
“You’ve got sauce on your chin,” she mumbled after swallowing a mouthful. She reached across to wipe it off with the tip of her finger. “And you could do with a shave.”
“Thanks. And this is an experience,” he said as he peered into the bread-wrapped tangle of salad and chilies.
Her bare feet dangled like a child’s over the harbor’s edge where they’d settled to eat. “It’s like a different world down here in the dark. I can hardly hear the clubs and crowds now.”
“Hmm.” Ricardo tugged at a long thread of onion and grimaced. “Security won’t let the rabble into the marina, people like dodgy Bjorn. Berth holders only.”
“You took an instant dislike to him, didn’t you?” She offered him a pickled chili, but he wrinkled his nose with disgust. “Anyone would think you were jealous. As well as being an abysmal snob.”
“I bet he takes drugs,” Ricardo said, unfazed as he stared out to sea.
“Oh honestly…”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“What?”
“You heard.”
“None of your business.”
“I’m your husband, so it’s definitely my business.”
“You’re my sham husband, don’t forget.” She twisted the paper kebab wrapper. “But for what it’s worth we’re just friends. No sex, just good times and digging for broken pottery.”
“He wants to sleep with you.”
Her laughter tinkled in the night air. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Good.”
“That’s not going to happen with anyone right now.”
“Half an hour ago things were different. As I recall, Mrs. Almanza, you were on the verge of dragging me off to your student flat to make love amongst the cockroaches.”
“I was not!” She laughed again and her cheeks flushed pink in the blue-white light of the moon.
“Liar,” he said and handed her the crumpled remains of his kebab. “Want to finish this?”
“Is that supposed to be a love offering? Caveman style. Me feed you, me take you back to me, um, cave?”
She really was intriguing. Unpredictable. “If you want it to be.” His voice was soft as he took her by the hand and kissed her salty fingertips. “Garlic and mint. You are a divine creature.” She giggled and he felt a wave of pleasure wash over him.
“I’m tempted,” she said quietly and his stomach flipped as she stared up at him with serious green eyes. “Tempted to say yes, but—”
“But what?”
“It would complicate things between us.”
“It needn’t. Just wild, consensual sex between sham husband and sham wife. No strings.” He shrugged as if it was unimportant to him. “We’re attracted to each other and both grown ups, not star-crossed teenagers who’ll fall madly in love or anything.”
Her eyes sparkled like the tiny dark waves lapping at the sea wall. “Or bunny boilers.”
He laughed softly and poked the top of her arm playfully. “It’s a serious proposition. Three months fulfilling your wildest fantasies. With me.”
“You’re mad.”
“You’re considering it, I can tell.”
“I’m not!”
“Ah! Perfect timing.” He pointed towards the harbor mouth as a pyramid of lights came into view. His yacht was floating in like a ghostly galleon. “I’ll tell the captain to turn straight round and take us to Menorca.”
“Poor crew! Can’t they even stop off for a beer or something?”
“They won’t mind. I pay them a ridiculous amount to stay sober.”
“But even so…”
“There are two shifts of men on board, don’t worry. I’m not that bad!”
.
Helen was shattered, but try as she might sleep would not come. It wasn’t the low hum of the yacht’s engines keeping her awake. Its soothing purr was barely audible. And the crew were as quiet as mice. In fact, it was so peaceful that she could hear the splash and hiss of waves hitting the bows outside. She should be fast asleep after the hectic day she’d had, but the gentle rise and fall of the yacht, as it made its way across the Mediterranean ocean towards the island of Menorca, was provoking feelings she shouldn’t be having.
Ricardo had kissed her
goodnight before disappearing into his own cabin. It had been a deep kiss as opposed to a polite one, and she was sorry when it ended. A small part of her had hoped he’d sweep her off her feet and drag her into his bed to finish what they’d started on the dark back streets of Ibiza. The swell of the waves made her imagine what it would be like to be underneath him as he moved rhythmically over and into her under the cover of night, and it was driving her insane.She rolled over and buried her face in a pillow to stifle the groan of frustration that she could no longer suppress. She wanted him. He wanted her. All the cards were face up on the table. His three-month proposition. Lying there with her breasts crushed into the mattress she knew it was her turn to make a move. He wasn’t going to come and fetch her, he’d said as much as he’d left her to go to bed alone. It was her choice and his adjoining cabin door would be unlocked …
Damn it.
Helen turned the doorknob as quietly as she could, acknowledging inwardly that it was a pointless thing to do. She wasn’t intending for Ricardo to ignore her. Her intention was so shocking she smothered the thought and all reason with it as she pushed the door to his suite open.
Her skin tingled beneath the whisper of her silk robe, and she could feel her nipples tighten the second she stepped into his bedroom. It was dark and silent, but as her eyes adjusted to the light it became clear that his enormous bed was empty—it hadn’t even been slept in judging by the smooth order of the bed linen. Her breath stalled as she saw him silhouetted against the night sky, framed by the open glass doors that led onto the terrace, his private part of the deck that wasn’t overlooked by anyone.
He was leaning to one side with his back to her, his broad shoulder against one side of the doorframe, his upper body a perfectly honed triangle of muscle and bone. She took one step forward, but as her bare foot sank into the luxurious carpet his voice made her stop dead. “You came.”
The Spanish Billionaire's Hired Bride Page 8
