Slowly, with deliberation that brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks, he allowed his eyes to conduct an analytical appraisal that began at the top of her head and travelled insolently down to the toes of her elegant high-heeled sandals, and back again, before voicing with damning cynicism.
'Well, Miss Adams? Precisely what is it you consider so pressingly urgent? So urgent, in fact,' he continued softly; 'that you would deliberately deceive my receptionist.'
Temper, she cautioned silently—at all costs she must remain calm! 'My mother received a letter yesterday indicating a discrepancy regarding my late father's estate. The result of your instructions, I believe,' she declared bitterly, silently demanding his verification. When none was forthcoming, she continued defiantly, 'You must be aware there isn't the remotest possibility we can come up with that sort of money.'
His gaze was disturbing, and she hated him afresh for placing her in the invidious position of having to beg his indulgence.
'I take it you are here on your mother's behalf?'
'Selina doesn't have the strength to do battle with a man such as you,' Sara told him witheringly. She watched as he eased his powerful body away from the desk, and despite the distance separating them his height and breadth proved formidable, causing a moment of sheer panic as. she realised the vulnerability of her position.
'I wasn't aware we were at war,' Rafael Savalje drawled.
'The letter—'
'Stated a discrepancy between the loan negotiated by your late father and the amount realised by the sale of his assets,' he intervened smoothly.
'A debt you insist be repaid.'
'Naturally.'
Her eyes swept expressively over his rugged frame, and it was with difficulty that she held on to her temper. It wouldn't do to get on the wrong side of this inimical man. Despite the indolent amusement evident, he wore a mantle of ruthless implacability sufficient to quell an unwary adversary; his very stance reminiscent of a jungle panther—lithe and extremely dangerous.
'You have been told Selina disposed of all Blair's securities,' she informed him evenly, endeavouring to remain in control. 'Even to the extent of withdrawing personal savings, to which I added my own. Apart from a few necessary items of furniture and my car, there are no further assets.' She paused slightly, then became utterly infuriated when he refrained from making any comment. 'What do you expect from us?' she demanded incautiously, her fine green eyes sparking brilliant fire. 'We can't manufacture money out of thin air!'
His deliberation was incalculably intent, designed, Sara felt sure, to make her feel at a disadvantage, and it was all she could do not to resort to a childish expression of defiance.
'You have some suggestion to make regarding reparation?' he queried at last, and she took a deep steadying breath before responding.
'Both Selina and I draw wages,' she told him stoically. 'We could reduce the debt by regular monthly instalments.'
His expression didn't alter. 'What figure do you have in mind?'
Sara did a rapid mental calculation. 'Between four and five hundred dollars.'
'Your dedication is laudable, although unrealistic,' he drawled, his gaze unwavering. 'May I ask if your mother is equally willing to commit her finances so far into the future?'
'Selina would be the last person to balk at an obligation,' Sara flared, and saw one eyebrow lift with faint mockery.
'You have, of course, discussed it with her?'
'I don't need to,' she dismissed with a growing sense of irritation.
'What if I consider your offer unsatisfactory?'
'Damn you! What do you want?' she demanded angrily. 'Must I beg?' Her voice rose a fraction. 'Isn't it enough that you've reduced my mother to an emotional wreck?' Every ounce of fury projected itself from her body so that her entire being radiated with it.
Rafael Savalje extracted a slim gold case from an inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a cigarette, lit it with a matching lighter, then returned both with unhurried ease. 'Your mother suffers indifferent health?'
'Why do you ask? Are you afraid it will take even longer to receive your money?' Her chin lifted in an unconscious gesture of defiance. 'I'll ensure you're repaid every last cent, with interest—even if it kills me!'
'You're being overly dramatic,' he drawled, subjecting her to an unwavering scrutiny. 'It's possible we can reach a compromise.'
'What do you have in mind?' Her temper was about to erupt, and her cheeks became pink with the effort of controlling it. 'Or perhaps I shouldn't be so naive,' she said bitterly, anger flowing out of every pore.
'That's an evocative thought,' Rafael Savalje drawled with sardonic amusement, and without thought her hand flew to his face.
The next moment she cried out with pain as a stinging slap caught her left cheek.
'Bastard!' she choked as she lifted an unsteady hand to her face.
His lips twisted into a grim smile. 'As I was born within the legal bonds of matrimony, that particular descriptive is unmerited.'
'I find it particularly apt!'
'A dark angel, hm?'
'Yes!'
His scrutiny seemed to last for ever, and it was she who was the first to glance away, unable to hold that dark inimical gaze a second longer.
'What if I were to suggest that I might be prepared to let your mother occupy her former home, rent-free, for her lifetime?'
'In return for what—me?' she demanded with unaccustomed truculence.
'Yes,' he affirmed with silky detachment.
'You have to be mad!' Sara allowed her eyes to rake his powerful frame with ill-concealed contempt. 'Won't some other woman do?' A scornful laugh left her lips. 'I can't believe you lack for feminine—' she paused, then concluded delicately, 'attention.'
'No,' he allowed sardonically. 'However, the women of my acquaintance, while providing adequate sexual assuagement, appear sadly lacking in the one qualification I consider all-important.'
'I Can't wait to hear what that might be,' Sara declared trenchantly, and saw his dark eyes harden measurably.
'The capacity to have a genuine regard for my daughter,' he revealed, and she demanded baldly, 'Why? Is she some sort of misfit?'
A slight humourless smile twisted his lips. 'On the contrary. Ana's only need is a reasonable quota of maternal affection.'
'Dear God, you want me to play mother?'
'Is the idea so abhorrent?' Rafael Savalje parried smoothly.
'That's the deal?' she queried in open disbelief.
'With one or two reservations—yes.'
'You'd better elaborate,' Sara demanded fiercely, unable to feel anything other than bitter enmity for the man standing opposite.
'You don't totally discount the idea?' he mocked, and one eyebrow slanted in cynical amusement.
'Cut out the word-play, Mr Savalje,' she snapped scathingly, and her eyes filled with impotent rage. 'You require my services as a live-in nanny, is that right?'
'I distinctly specified "mother", did I not?'
'To be that, I would have to marry you.' Sara voiced her thoughts aloud without having any intention of doing so, and her face suddenly paled as she glimpsed the brief inclination of his head.
'You comprehend, I see.' His tone held cynical amusement.
'You can't be serious,' she whispered aghast, and caught the grim twist of his mouth.
'I am assured by various sources that you possess what is termed a natural empathy with children,' he told her hardily.
'You've had me investigated?' she demanded incredulously. 'How dare you!'
His eyes narrowed fractionally. 'Can you deny that your were equally curious about your late father's so-called aggressor?'
A telling colour flooded her cheeks, then left it as she became filled with quivering rage. 'At least you admit hounding him towards an untimely grave!'
A muscle tightened along his jaw.' 'I provided financial backing on a business deal Blair Adams initiated,' he revealed bleakly. 'Without my sanct
ion, your father made a quick sale and then reinvested on an unsound property, utilising my money and negotiating further finance at exorbitant interest rates. He was forced to sell at a considerable loss, yet he plunged into a further deal which rebounded with disastrous consequences.' His eyes held hers with unwavering scrutiny. 'He appealed to me for an extension of the original loan, which I refused. I regret to say he then made a last-ditch effort to recoup his losses, which only intensified his position.' He thrust one hand into his jacket pocket and extracted cigarettes and lighter, and his movements were unhurried as he exhaled the smoke with evident satisfaction before continuing. Contrary to your misconception, I was not responsible in precipitating his planned demise.'
'You don't pull any punches, do you?' Sara said bitterly.
'Your father was not only a gambler, but a fool,' Rafael Savalje observed hardily. 'He regarded your mother much as a collector regards a rare piece of priceless china. Her preservation in luxurious surroundings had to be maintained at any cost.'
'He loved her,' Sara cried in defence, unbearably hurt by his criticism. 'She was his life, the reason for his existence.'
'Yes,' he agreed with succinct sarcasm, and she lashed out in utter fury, 'You're nothing less than an unfeeling monster! You don't have the capacity to give affection—let alone love?
'I love my daughter.'
'Perhaps,' Sara acceded with marked acerbity. 'Poor little scrap, I feel sorry for her already. If she's anything like her father, my task will be impossible!'
'You accept?' His eyes were dark and impassive, and she grimaced with distaste.
'I'm tempted to throw your offer back in your face,' she resolved with unnecessary force. 'Selina's resilience is extremely delicate. I don't relish putting her through any further anguish—in fact, I'll go to any lengths to avoid it.'
'Even marrying me,' he drawled, and her features darkened with expressive rage.
'Yes—damn you!'
His gaze was unfathomable, and it seemed an age before he spoke. 'Be sure of your decision, Sara,' he warned with dangerous silkiness. 'I won't allow you to change your mind.'
Her eyes were drawn to his, seeing clearly the grim implacability evident, a ruthlessness that sent shivers of apprehension feathering down her spine. 'This marriage,' she began unevenly. 'Am I expected to—'
'Share my bed?' he finished cynically, trapping her with his eyes so that she was unable to glance away. 'Why shouldn't I exercise a husband's rights?'
The thought of him as a lover sent her into an uneviable state of confusion. 'I don't find you in the least attractive.' The words held invective, and she allowed her gaze to sweep his lengthy frame with utter antipathy. 'What if I refuse?'
His expression' became musingly speculative as he effected an indolent shrug. 'The choice is yours.'
'You'll allow me to have my own room?' Her voice rose a fraction with incredulity.
'No,' he refused silkily. 'You'll share my room and occupy my bed. It's a very large bed,' he revealed sardonically. 'I doubt you'll be aware of my presence.'
Her stomach lurched, then tightened into a painful ball. 'I wouldn't trust you as far as I could throw you,' she said shakily. Her heart began an erratic tattoo at the thought of sharing several hours each night in close proximity to a man of his undoubted-virility. It was madness!
'I've never been an advocate of rape.'
'Merely employed subtle persuasion,' she retorted with biting sarcasm, and glimpsed his amusement.
'There is a difference.'
'Either way, I lose,' Sara said bitterly, hating him afresh.
'You require my sympathy?'
Her hand flew towards his face in a swift arc that never reached its mark, and she cried out in pain as strong fingers caught and held her arm in a merciless grip.
His head lowered with deadly intent, and the soundless scream that had become trapped in her throat suddenly erupted.
'Let me go!' Never in her life had she glimpsed such inimical rage, and fear lent strength as she struggled to be free of him.
'Barbarian!' Sara vented, her voice raw with anger, then his mouth closed over hers and she swayed beneath the hardness of his lips as they heartlessly crushed hers in a punishing attempt to force them apart.
Moving her head in violent opposition did no good at all, and she uttered a protesting moan as he caught her close against his hard frame.
Every attempt to escape proved fruitless, and she became breathless with the force of his kiss and her own exertion. Yet to stand quiescent in his arms was intolerable, and she rained her fists against his broad back, his ribs, anywhere she could reach, in an effort to be free of him.
With agile ease he captured first one wrist, then the other, and held them together behind her back. A hand slid to her nape and his fingers threaded themselves through her hair with little regard for her delicate scalp.
Defeated, Sara gave a gasp of impotent rage, and that unbidden relaxing of her jaw allowed him entry to violate the soft inner tissue of her mouth in a kiss that was relentlessly cruel.
Futility at her own weakness, the lack of sheer physical strength to outmatch him, exploded inside her, and when he finally released her she would have fallen had he not offered a steadying hand. For a few timeless seconds she was completely disorientated, then the numbness subsided and fury lent her eyes a fiery sparkle, twin flags of colour high-lighting her cheekbones in an otherwise pale face.
'Don't look so—devastated,' Rafael Savalje drawled, 'I only kissed you.'
Wrath brought a husky note to her voice. 'It was deliberately cruel assault, and you know it!'
'Would you rather I had slapped your face?'
'You provoked me,' Sara defended emotively, and his features hardened measurably.
'And I, of course, cannot claim provocation?'
'This—proposition of yours is a one-way ticket to disaster. I hate everything about you—everything you stand for,' she flung incautiously. 'What sort of foundation is that for marriage?' She lifted her eyes to his, but was unable to glean anything from his expression. 'How can you possibly expect your daughter to believe in something so false?'
'By ensuring that it doesn't appear so,' he declared with silky detachment, and she gave a disbelieving laugh.
'How do you propose to do that? By offering a kiss to my cheek, or placing an arm around my shoulder in her presence?' She shook her head slowly, and her voice-lost its former anger. 'Children are far more sensitive to people's emotions than we give them credit for,' she expounded soberly. 'It's not merely visual actions or words. An entire composite of body, language is necessary.'
'It shouldn't be too difficult,' he insisted impassively. 'Apart from weekends, it will involve twenty minutes over breakfast each morning, an hour or two in the evening. I shall help you.'
'Like you did just now?' she demanded with scorn. 'If that's an example of your so-called affection, then I'll pass!'
'I'm told I am quite—satisfactory, when I choose,' he drawled, and catching hold of her shoulders he propelled her slowly forward.
'Leave me alone!' Sara protested, endeavouring to wrench away from his grasp, but he resisted her futile attempt to escape with an ease that was galling.
'Regard it as an educational exercise,' he drawled mockingly.
'You—savage!' she choked an instant before his mouth fastened on here, and steeled herself against another infliction of pain. Instead his lips were warm and deliberately evocative as they moved back and forth on hers, their touch insistently probing.
'Open your mouth,' Rafael said quietly, and she shook her head in mute defiance, determined not to fall into the same trap twice.
'Afraid you might enjoy it, Sara?' he taunted, and she gave a soundless gasp as his lips trailed down to caress the pulsating cord at the edge of her neck, then moved to seek the hollows at the base of her throat before travelling to a sensitive earlobe. His tongue tantalised a path over its shell-like orifice, then slowly his mouth moved to clai
m hers in a kiss that brought each nerve-end tinglingly alive.
Of their own volition her lips parted, and she was scarcely aware of her response as a treacherous warmth invaded her limbs, until it felt as if liquid fire coursed through her veins.
'We're not as incompatible as you would prefer to believe,' Rafael drawled with hateful amusement as he released her, and Sara retorted resentfully, 'I bow down to your—er—' she paused deliberately, then forced a light laugh—'superior talent.' She gave a slightly wicked smile. 'Becoming your wife may very well have its interesting moments.'
His eyes narrowed in thoughtful speculation. 'I don't doubt it,' he concurred mockingly, and a faint tinge of colour flew to her cheeks.
With hands that shook slightly she extricated herself from his arms and bent to collect her bag from where it had fallen on the carpet, then straightening she spared a glance at her watch. 'It's late,' she observed, noticing for the first time that the room had become bathed with the first flush of evening dusk.
'Have dinner with me.'
It was a command she chose to ignore. 'I can't,' she refused starkly. 'Selina is expecting me home.'
'Telephone her.' Steel encased in silk lent credence to the dangerous reputation the man had earned, and Sara experienced a frisson of fear at her vulnerability.
Anger at his highhandedness won, and she met his narrowed gaze squarely. 'You don't own me— at least, not yet,' she corrected with hostile bleakness.
'You show courage, Sara Adams,' he accorded ruminatively and his lips twisted into a wry facsimile of a smile. 'I have you very much at my mercy, yet you choose to defy me.' He indicated the closed door with an indolent sweep of his arm. 'There's no one within earshot to effect a rescue.'
'I've agreed to your proposition,' she said unsteadily. 'What more do you want?'
Rafael took his time answering, and the silence in the room, became enervating to the extent that Sara was aware of each separate heartbeat as she waited for him to speak.
'It is important for Ana to meet you, don't you agree?' His expression was an inscrutable mask. 'Having dinner at my home will provide that opportunity.'
Wildfire Encounter Page 3
