by Julia James
Until a voice spoke above her. Deep and accented.
‘Hello, Celeste.’
She jackknifed to a sitting position, shock—more than shock—jagging through her.
Rafael Sanguardo, clad in a dark blue T-shirt and pale board shorts, reached out a hand to pull an adjacent empty sunbed closer, and lowered his long, lean body down on it.
‘Before you ask—because I can see the question...or rather the outraged demand...is on your lips,’ he informed her, ‘you can blame your booker. I bullied him shamelessly to tell me where your shoot was, and then found your erstwhile colleagues disporting themselves on Oahu. And I must say...’ he glanced around ‘...you have made a wiser choice than they. This,’ Rafael said appreciatively, ‘is fabulous.’
He settled himself back on the sunbed. One of the beach staff came up, having seen a new arrival, and Rafael turned to Celeste, nodding at her empty glass of fruit juice.
‘A refill on that?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, but made his own request, smiling at the young Hawaiian.
When he’d gone, Rafael turned to Celeste again. Emotion kicked in him. It was so good to see her again! To be able to let his eyes take in the incredible beauty of her body, her face, to drink it in like the sweetest nectar. The days since he’d last set eyes on her—handing her out of his car after they’d taken the hapless Louise home—had stretched to an endless age. But now he was seeing her again. She was here, so close to him, and it was good—oh, it was good!
She was staring at him. But not with the expression that he was gazing at her with.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, her voice staccato with shock.
Dark lashes lowered over darker eyes. Then he spoke, his voice different from the tone he’d used just now. Sombre. Grave. ‘This is my last attempt, Celeste. Allow me it—because if I fail now, then you have my word. I will let you be. I will leave you alone.’
Alone in that sad, bleak, empty world you tell me you live in, bereft of all that romance can offer the human spirit—denying yourself all that could be yours...all that I could give to you...
Her eyes were troubled.
‘I thought I was alone,’ she heard herself say.
His gaze was level on her. ‘As I’ve promised, we will take it as slowly as you need.’ Rafael’s eyes held hers. ‘I ask only that you give me a chance.’
For an endless moment, it seemed to her, his eyes went on holding hers, asking a question to which she could give no answer. Had no answer to give.
She knew, with a hollowing of dismay, that the leap in her heart-rate had nothing to do with shock. And everything to do with Rafael Sanguardo walking back into her life.
She shut her eyes, willing herself, hopelessly, to banish his image—the image that had leapt into her retinas, burning with a vividness that was as shocking as recognising his voice.
‘I can’t stop you,’ she said, her tone low. ‘This is a hotel—if you want to stay here you can. But don’t think you can just take it for granted that I’ll—’ She stopped.
‘Celeste, about you I take nothing for granted, I assure you,’ Rafael said dryly. ‘Every step of the way with you is a minefield. Every moment of communication I achieve with you makes me feel I deserve a medal!’
His voice had changed again—she could hear it.
‘I ask nothing from you except your time and...’ he chose his words carefully ‘...your trust. Trust me and spend time with me. You may enjoy it. I’ll make no demands on you other than keeping company with me. Spending easy time—leisured time—time out from our working lives, our busy lives. Time to lie here beneath the palm trees, time to enjoy this wonderfully beautiful place, time to savour the scent of flowers and the sight of the sea and the sound of the birdsong. Time,’ he finished, ‘to gaze up at the night sky filled with tropical stars.’
He paused.
‘Will you give me your trust and spend that time with me?’
She did not answer. Did not accept or refuse.
He let his eyes rest on her a moment. Her features had stilled and she had closed her eyes against him. Letting her silence be her assent.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘WHICH RESTAURANT WOULD you like to dine at?’ Rafael’s courteous enquiry came as they reached the foot of the steps leading back up into the atrium.
‘I don’t mind,’ Celeste answered.
She was not in her right mind, she knew—because how could she be if she was allowing what was happening? What she had allowed to happen all afternoon.
She had allowed Rafael Sanguardo to say those things to her, to settle himself on the sunbed next to her, keeping her company, asking her about the hotel, what she had done so far. She had allowed him to suggest trying the sea together, which she had declined, and so she’d watched him peel off his T-shirt and run lithely down across the hot sand to plunge into the waves, ploughing out through them with a strong forearm stroke before returning to land eventually, dark hair wet like a glossy raven’s wing, water droplets glistening off a bared torso that had been every bit as muscled as she’d known it must be, the shoulders just as broad, the back just as sculpted, his thighs just as steely...
She’d been unable to peel her eyes away from his lean, toned body, unable to stop the strange flush of heat that went through her as she had gazed as though the sun had gained an extra fierceness and started beating in her veins...
She’d allowed it all—allowed him to sit beside her on his sunbed, quiveringly aware of his presence, as they’d watched the sun turn to gold as it sank into the cobalt sea...allowed him to help gather her things and scoop up the used towels to drop them into the canvas box by the beach kiosk, to pad with her along the warm stone pathways across the dusky gardens, back towards the hotel.
Allowed him to stand here now and consider which restaurant to take their dinner in.
Together.
And she would allow that, too, she knew, because she didn’t want to have to think about this any more. Didn’t want to feel the pressure or the temptation to say no, to send him away, to banish him.
She knew, with the strangest feeling inside her, that she didn’t want to do anything right now except go on allowing him to be with her.
She also knew, however reluctant she was to admit it, that she didn’t want to try and reject that quivering awareness of him, that flush, that rush of heat in her veins that came just at his nearness to her...
‘Then I’ll choose,’ he said. ‘Why not meet at the terrace bar in an hour or so?’
He smiled, the lines around his mouth deepening, and watched her go along the pathway that led to her wing of the hotel. He was on the other side of the complex, in one of the cabana-villas that had their own secluded garden areas and their own private plunge pools.
Would he be taking her there one evening? Rafael found himself thinking. Would there be a time when they would not go their separate ways after lazing on the beach, but instead wander, arms entwined, to find a private hour together? The hour between sunset and moonrise...an hour filled with desire and passion and the fulfilment that he longed for—that had brought him here, across two oceans and a continent, to find her...woo her...win her...?
As he set off in his own direction he knew the answer was still unspoken. However much he hoped for it and sensed that Celeste hoped for it, too.
Yet later, as he walked up to Celeste across the atrium towards the open-air loggia bar, Rafael knew his hopes were soaring higher than ever. She was poised by the balustrade, looking down over the tumbling water feature, and for a second he was back in that Oxfordshire mansion, seeing her at the head of the staircase there, remembering how his eyes had gone to her immediately, how he had taken in a vision of pale beauty, rare grace, and how he’d been struck by how...alone...she’d seemed. How apart from the rest of the world.
/> So beautiful. So alone.
But now she is alone no longer! Now she is with me!
Oh, it was the most tentative of achievements simply for her to accept his company as she was doing, but for all that he knew he had come a long way since that first sighting of her. She was no longer walking away from him, walking out on him, rejecting his overtures, his company. And that, he knew, was an achievement indeed!
But the way ahead—the way he so wanted to guide her towards, for both their sakes—was uncertain, and he had to move with care, with caution. For one rash, rushed move could send her fleeing from him again.
And he did not want that! Did not want it with an intensity that was almost palpable. This was, as he had promised, his very last attempt to win her—and he might lose her yet! Yet now, as he greeted her, he knew that his dominant emotion was pleasure—the pleasure of letting his eyes rest on her, on how lovely she looked, her pale beauty set off by a long, flowing dress in hibiscus-red, floral and graceful. It was gathered at the waist and the bodice was softly clinging, with a wide, low ruffle framing her shoulders. Her fair hair was loose, but drawn back from her face with pearl-edged combs, and her only jewellery was a mother-of-pearl pendant.
He came and stood beside her, not standing too close. He did not want to crowd her at so tentative a stage of his careful, wary courtship. He looked out, as she was doing, over the lush gardens spreading below the cantilevered terrace, the verdant greenery hardly visible now in the gathering night except where the torches had been lit and at the faintest line of light from the far horizon.
‘This really is just exceptionally beautiful,’ he breathed, his eyes roaming the vista before him.
Celeste turned. ‘Isn’t it?’ Her cautious, brief smile met his. Admiring the hotel and its grounds was safe. ‘I just can’t get over how idyllic it is.’
Idyllic it was, Rafael knew, but he also knew, with sombre recognition, that as in every paradise there was a serpent here. The serpent that lay coiled deep within Celeste, engendered by whatever dark trauma had wounded her so long ago, making her feel she had to keep apart...alone.
But as his eyes rested on her he felt the swell of emotion and resolve filled him.
I will draw her to me so that she is no longer apart...alone! So that she can share with me what I so wish there to be between us!
‘What can I get you to drink?’ His own voice penetrated his thoughts. He welcomed the question. He must keep the atmosphere between them light, easy—companionable. Nothing more than that for now. In order to let her come to feel comfortable with him.
As anticipated, she asked for mineral water, and he went off towards the bar. Behind him, Celeste’s eyes followed him. Although the hotel was deluxe, formal dinnerwear was not required, and Rafael was wearing smart but casual trousers and an open-collared light blue shirt, the cuffs turned back. As he came back to her, a drink in either hand, she saw how lean and strong his wrists were, how the natural tan of his skin tone contrasted with the pale brushed cotton of his shirt.
He’d brought a beer for himself, and he sipped it thoughtfully as they stood in a silence that was not, she realised, strained, but which seemed—impossible though it must surely be—natural and easy... They looked out over the darkened gardens, letting the warm night air waft over them. Beyond the gardens the susurrating sound of the waves breaking on the shore was still audible.
As more guests gathered on the terrace, their conversations rising, Rafael turned to Celeste. ‘Shall we go and eat?’
She nodded, setting down her glass beside his on the ledge of the balustrade to be cleared away.
‘Which restaurant did you choose?’ she asked.
‘I played safe and went for the fine dining French cuisine one,’ he answered. ‘I wasn’t sure how you were on other styles of cuisine.’
‘I haven’t been there yet,’ she said.
It was the most expensive in the hotel, which was why she’d been avoiding it. A frown furrowed her brow. She would have to make it clear to Rafael that when they ate she would be paying her own share.
They had to walk a little way along a torch-lit pathway across the gardens to the restaurant, which was set apart from the main body of the hotel. The restaurant opened to its own private garden-level terrace, with a view out over the sea beyond the lawn, framed by palm trees. They took their places and perused the menu. Every gourmet item looked tempting to Celeste, and with a sense of sudden freedom she gave her order.
Rafael quirked an eyebrow. ‘I suspect the sauce that comes with that has cream in it,’ he warned.
‘I don’t care!’ she answered defiantly. ‘Every day of my working life I have to calorie-count! But I’m on holiday now—and that includes my diet, too!’
He smiled. ‘That’s the spirit,’ he said. Inside, he felt another spurt of satisfaction.
He took extreme care, throughout the evening, to keep her in that zone. His tone was always light, with humour lurking in his eyes, a smile at his lips. Using every skill at his command, he strove to draw her out and yet keep the conversation sufficiently impersonal—things any two people together might chat about—so as not to scare her off yet again. He started by talking about the hotel and the amenities of the resort, about which she knew more than him, which made it good for getting her to talk more.
‘Do you dive?’ he asked at one point.
She shook her head.
‘Then perhaps snorkelling would do? Will you come out some time? The hotel will provide the equipment, I know. And,’ he went on, ‘how are you on the sea? Apparently there’s a bay around the headland where dolphins gather—we can take a catamaran to see them.’
Celeste’s face lit. ‘Oh, yes—I haven’t done that yet and I want to!’
‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘What else shall we do?’
Skilfully, he steered the conversation along, and as the courses passed he could see her finding it easier and easier to talk to him. In the same mood of calorific defiance that had made her order fish with a buttery sauce, she did not object when he refilled her wine glass.
By the time the waiter placed their coffee in front of them there was an air about her that he’d never seen—an air that was almost...well, carefree. That was the best word Rafael could think of.
Gladness filled him. And a sense of well-being. This was the right thing to have done—to have flown nine thousand miles to find her—to try one last time to persuade her to put behind her the ghosts from the past, to forget whatever it was that men like Karl Reiner had forced upon her. Whatever the ugly episode that had scarred her in the past—perhaps one such as she had saved the young model Louise from—he knew for certain it hadn’t been one she had voluntarily engaged in. Others might choose to do so—and now his mind darkened, naming no names, but knowing well who he had in mind!—but not Celeste. Never Celeste!
He lifted his coffee cup, letting his eyes rest on her. His breath caught, as it did every time he looked at her anew. Now, with the night all around them, Celeste’s so-beautiful face was underlit by the candles on the table, casting her features into luminous sculpture.
How beautiful she is! How much she moves me!
She picked up her own coffee cup, and as she did so her eyes met his.
Met and held.
Emotion washed through Celeste. Warm, vital...
In the flickering candlelight Rafael’s face took on the planes of a dramatic chiaroscuro. Her pulse thickened—quickened.
How right it seems to be here now! How right to sit here, with Rafael, in this place, at this time! To gaze at him and let him gaze at me, to feel the warm, strong current flow between us...
The question she so badly wanted to answer shaped itself in her mind yet again.
Could I really do what he so wants me to do? Is it possible? Is it really possible?
D
oubt and torment filled her mind. Until Rafael Sanguardo had walked into her life her resolve had been absolute. Romance could never be part of her life! Never! But he had overset her resolve, made her question all her bleak assumptions about what was no longer possible for her.
And now, as she gazed across at him, she felt that resolve weaken, that bleak determination erode. Longing swept through her—longing to accept, to take what he was offering to her! To take it with all her being! To give herself to him as she longed so much to do!
Could I give myself to this time, this place, this moment? To this man? Could I truly give myself to him?
That was the question that hung like a dazzling star in the heavens, waiting for the answer that only she could give...
* * *
Celeste could not sleep. She lay tossing and turning in the wide bed in which she’d slept soundly and uninterruptedly all the previous nights. She knew what had made the difference.
Rafael.
The man she desired as no other... With a desire that had leapt in her veins the moment her eyes had lit upon his tall, lean figure suddenly beside her on the beach that afternoon!
A desire that was tempting her to do what she had never done. To defy the past, and claim a present that was everything Rafael Sanguardo held out to her!
She gazed, sleepless, at the slowly turning fan over her head. She had never thought this day would come. Had thought that she would continue alone—must continue alone...always alone! Dragging the past behind her. The past that clung to her like a foul miasma, its tainted tendrils netting her. The past that she could never leave behind her. Never cut herself free from—
But never before had she so longed to be able to do so! To take with open heart and hands what Rafael was offering! To give herself to him fully and freely—
She pushed the bedclothes back, strode to the glass doors that opened to her balcony and slid them open, the mosquito mesh with them. She stepped out into the night, glanced upwards. Stars blazed overhead, burning through the golden floor of heaven. So far away—so far away...
