The Purest of Diamonds?

by Susan Stephens

  He had never been more careful in his life. He wanted Leila to enjoy every moment, and stopped immediately when she whimpered, to ask if she was all right.

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed, moving in a way that drew him deeper.

  He wanted to savour the incredible sensation, but Leila was impatient, and, cupping her buttocks, he positioned her. ‘Still okay?’ he murmured, moving deeper.

  ‘Is it supposed to be this good?’

  ‘I guess,’ he whispered against her mouth, ‘or why would everyone want to do it?’

  ‘With you?’ Her eyes flicked wide open.

  ‘There are other men.’

  ‘Are there?’ she gasped, half laughing on a shaking breath as he began to move. She clung to him, her face flushed, her lips parted to drag in air. ‘I had no idea it would be this good,’ she admitted when he paused to enjoy being so deeply lodged inside her. ‘I feel—’

  She didn’t get chance to tell him how she felt before falling off the edge of the cliff with a wail of surprise, and as she bucked convulsively it took all his ingenuity to keep her beneath him so she could enjoy the experience to the full.

  ‘Incredible!’ she exclaimed, panting as she came down. ‘You’re amazing—’

  He laughed as he nuzzled her neck with his stubble. ‘And you’re a very hungry woman, Leila Skavanga.’

  ‘You noticed?’ she said, starting to smile as he dropped kisses on her mouth.

  His answer was to move again. As far as he was concerned, it was Leila who was amazing.

  ‘More,’ she insisted when they’d been in bed so long dawn was starting to streak the sky with silver.

  ‘I should get up.’ He said this reluctantly, conscious of the long flight ahead of him. ‘I have to pack before I leave. And I have to file a flight plan before the wedding.’

  ‘Show-off,’ she teased him groggily.

  He only had to look into Leila’s eyes to want to change his mind and postpone his flight. Dios! She made him want to postpone the rest of his life to be with her.

  ‘Stay,’ she said softly, sensing this hesitation in him. ‘Stay with me in Skavanga, Raffa. Why not?’

  ‘I’d love nothing more, but—’

  ‘But you can’t,’ she said with resignation.

  What could he say? He had a life to get back to, as did Leila. ‘When you come out to the island—’

  Reaching up, she silenced him with her fingertips on his lips. ‘Don’t say it, Raffa. I know. You have your life and I have mine. This was one very special night—but that’s all it is. When I come out to the island I’ll be visiting for business and for nothing else. You can rely on me to keep my side of the bargain, as I hope I can rely on you to respect the professional relationship between us. And at the wedding, I’d rather we just kept it light, if that’s all right with you. I don’t want my sisters getting upset—not today of all days. I must have Britt onside, as technically Britt employs me to run the museum for the Skavanga mining company, so it’s important she takes my visit to the island as seriously as I do.’

  ‘I understand.’ She’d made it easy for him, which perversely only made him feel worse.

  Leila was lying back on the pillows staring blankly ahead, being brave about this as she had been brave about so many other things in her life. How many times had he spent the night with a woman and felt nothing but relief when she left him in the morning? That was most decidedly not how he felt now. ‘Go— Go and have your shower,’ he prompted. ‘Don’t make yourself late for your sister’s wedding.’

  It was over, Leila reflected as she swung out of bed. Their incredible night was over.

  ‘You’re still coming to the island?’ Raffa confirmed as she reached the door.

  ‘Of course,’ she said steadily. ‘Nothing’s changed.’

  But it had and they both knew it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EVERYTHING IN HER life had changed since meeting Raffa. Take this flight to his island. Britt had bumped her up to business class for the first leg of the journey, which had always been one of Leila’s ambitions, but the space and pampering only gave her too much time to think about Raffa, and how much she’d missed him.

  And how much she had to tell him.

  Shifting restlessly in her seat, she took her thoughts back to the wedding. They’d hardly spoken during the day. She’d been busy with bridesmaid’s duties, while Raffa had been forced to leave early to make his flight. Some internal warning system had alerted her to the moment he left, and the dreadful sinking sense of loss she had experienced then had never left her. Maybe it never would. Professional relationship? Just the thought of the pledge they’d made to maintain a professional relationship between them seemed like so much nonsense now. Perhaps Raffa could accept it, but then he didn’t know—

  ‘It’s time to fasten your seat belt, Señorita Skavanga.’

  Jolted out of her troubled thoughts by the friendly young flight attendant standing at her side, Leila apologised and quickly fastened her seat belt. ‘I didn’t see you there. I was...’ Daydreaming, Leila silently supplied.

  ‘Welcome to Isla Montaña de Fuego, señorita.’

  The Island of the Mountains of Fire. How appropriate. Staring out of the small window, she experienced a huge and extremely inconvenient swell of love for Raffa.

  And had to mask those feelings. Raffa must know she was completely in control when they met up, and that meant no lingering glances, no longing, no nothing.

  To dull the ache inside her, she turned her attention to the view outside the window as the plane came in to land. Seen from this height, Raffa’s island retreat was surprisingly lush and green. A deep ivory band of sand bordered a bright blue sea on one side of the island, while on the other coastline an angry sea lashed a range of dramatic black rocks. The contrast was glaring. The young cabin attendant explained that they would be landing in the north of the island. ‘The south is softer, and has fabulous golden beaches,’ she went on, dipping her head to follow Leila’s gaze out of the window.

  Leila instantly pictured Raffa’s fortress home being in the north, where it would be well barricaded from the world between forbidding mountains and a ferocious sea. ‘Why don’t you sit with me for landing, Elena?’ There was so much more she wanted to know about the island and about the man who lived here...the man with whom, quite incredibly, she was expecting a baby.

  ‘Where exactly is the castle?’ she asked as soon as Elena was safely buckled in.

  ‘Don Leon’s home is in the south of the island.’

  When Leila expressed surprise, Elena explained. ‘The reasoning in the old days was that because of the treacherous rocks in the north, that part of the island was impregnable and could take care of itself, while the south was soft and vulnerable. So that’s where Don Leon’s ancestors built their castle.’

  It made perfect sense, which was more than could be said for Leila’s current state of mind.

  ‘The castle is absolutely stunning,’ Elena went on. ‘Don Leon has been working so hard on it for years. Have you seen it yet?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’ Leila looked at Elena with renewed interest. The young girl was very pretty.

  And why was she behaving like a jealous lover? It was time to put this pointless longing for Raffa Leon out of her head for good.

  But how could she ever cut him out of her life now?

  Elena interrupted Leila’s thoughts with some more information about the castle. ‘It’s not forbidding at all. Don Leon has done so much of the work himself and he invites his staff each year for a party so we can see how the work is progressing. He’s such a generous man.’

  So much for the press dubbing him ruthless. Turmoil at the thought that this was the man Leila had always dreamed of fathering the child she had always longed for, combined with the guilt
she felt at not having been able to locate Raffa before she arrived to let him know she had just discovered she was pregnant, was making her edgy and frustrated.

  ‘I believe Don Leon’s design studios are over here on the island?’ she babbled, as if she didn’t know they were, in a hopeless attempt to take her mind off the man and the consequences of their one night of passion.

  ‘We’ll fly over them soon. Is that where you’ll be working?’ Elena asked pleasantly.

  Thankfully, Elena couldn’t know about the turmoil in Leila’s mind. ‘Most probably.’

  She couldn’t even be sure of that. She had sent repeated mails to Raffa’s headquarters in an attempt to contact him, and had finally introduced herself to his team via HR, but when she explained her ideas for an exhibition in Skavanga, she was told Don Leon would decide her agenda. But where was he? No one would tell her, and her tireless investigations had drawn a blank.

  ‘And there he is,’ Elena exclaimed, shocking Leila back into the present.

  As the jet touched down and screamed along the runway Leila had the briefest glimpse of an unmistakeable figure. Lounging back against a Jeep, Raffa Leon, exactly as she remembered him: powerful, hard, self-avowed bachelor by preference, a man who had no intention of having children to disturb his smooth-running life.

  If only he’d sent a driver so she could have had some time to compose herself. She longed to see him again, but dreaded this first meeting. She dreaded what she might see in Raffa’s eyes. Nothing would be terrible. Intuition would be worse. She had to tell him her news before he could find out for himself.

  And what would Raffa see in her eyes? Guilt? He would want to know why she hadn’t told him the moment she knew she was pregnant. Why she hadn’t emblazoned it in the sky. ‘I had to speak to you in person’ would sound lame in the face of the shock he was going to get.

  Pausing at the top of the aircraft steps, she braced herself for their first encounter. ‘How often are these flights?’ she asked the young flight attendant as Raffa closed the distance between them in a few long strides.

  ‘We fly whenever Don Leon sends for the plane,’ Elena explained. ‘There is no other way off the island. No ferries could possibly dock in the north. As you’ve seen, the coastline is too rugged. And the south is all helicopters and private yachts—most of which belong to Don Leon, or to his company.’

  So she was stuck on Raffa’s island, with no way off, other than with his permission. Why hadn’t she thought ahead about this, and arranged to meet him on neutral ground?

  ‘Leila...’

  Too late now.

  The familiar voice washed over her, the rich, deep tones disarming her and making her forget everything except seeing Raffa again, though she registered now that his manner was carefully judged and disappointingly neutral.

  ‘Raffa...’

  Coming down the steps, she extended her hand to greet him, matching his businesslike manner with a cool air of her own. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

  ‘And you, Leila.’

  He ignored her hand and removed his sunglasses.

  That penetrating stare... Those incredible eyes could search her soul. Could he see the truth?

  She looked away, but not before she noticed the speculation in his stare. Raffa missed nothing. He could read the smallest shift in body language and never took anything for granted. He was scanning her now for any sign of emotion to suggest she was a clinging vine who might make demands on him after what had happened between them at the party.

  Composing herself, she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Britt had mentioned the fact that Raffa’s questing nature had contributed massively to his success, and that he was unparalleled when it came to spotting things other people missed, and that this was what kept him so far ahead of the pack. She would do well to remember that.

  ‘You’re well, Leila?’

  Her cheeks flushed red at that simple question. Well? She was blooming. ‘Yes, very well, thank you. You?’

  He nodded briefly.

  Raffa looked amazing, in nothing more than a pair of worn jeans and a dark, close-fitting top. She inhaled a faint tang of his cologne. He was standing so close she could see the amber flecks in his sepia eyes and feel his familiar power warming her. It was impossible to forget what had happened between them, or the consequences of their one night together.

  ‘Let me carry your case,’ he said, reaching for her bag.

  ‘I can manage, thank you.’

  ‘You don’t have to manage, Leila.’

  Raffa sounded faintly impatient and she couldn’t blame him as she thought back to the last time they’d seen each other—glimpsed each other, really, across a crowded ballroom at Eva’s wedding. She’d been too busy to speak to him, and yet the night before she’d been lost in his arms—wild in his arms. And now the consequences of that night, consequences that Raffa didn’t know about yet, would have to be brought out into the open and discussed. There was an awkward time ahead of them, to say the least.

  She followed him to the Jeep, determined she would keep her head, but once the doors closed and they were contained in the small cab she was all too aware of the tension swirling round them.

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ Raffa remarked as he started the engine. ‘Don’t you have any news for me, Leila?’

  ‘About the museum?’ Her throat tightened on the question.

  ‘Of course about the museum.’ Slipping his sunglasses on, Raffa put the vehicle into gear and released the brake.

  Of course. What else could they possibly have to talk about? The conversation between them was so stilted and awkward, she wasn’t sure she could rescue the situation. Bracing her arm against the dashboard as Raffa bumped the Jeep over the rutted track that led to the highway, she glanced at his rugged face in profile. There was no softness in his expression. ‘Did you see the mail I sent you?’

  ‘Mail?’ He frowned, his swarthy features more forbidding than ever. ‘What mail?’

  ‘The mail I sent to your company in advance of my arrival here. The mail I sent to introduce myself to your team. I copied you in.’

  Raffa’s frown deepened.

  No one got under her skin as he did, and far from being the peacemaker, her usual role back home, she was screaming inside and had to say something. ‘Were you ever going to read it?’

  Pulling his head back, Raffa flashed a glance across at her. ‘If it’s in my inbox I’ll get round to it.’

  ‘Raffa, you disappeared off the face of the earth. Where’ve you been?’

  ‘Tied up, looking after my grandmother. She hasn’t been well recently.’

  She went hot with embarrassment for misjudging him so badly. ‘I’m so sorry. I hope she’s feeling better now.’

  Guilt flashed through her as Raffa responded with a curt nod of his head. With her own concerns banging in her brain, she hadn’t paused to think why he might be off radar.

  There had been a stack of mail waiting for him, but with his mind on Abuelita he hadn’t even glanced at it. His grandmother was supposed to be indestructible. She wasn’t supposed to get sick. That wasn’t Leila’s fault, but there was something about Leila making him edgy. She’d changed. He couldn’t put his finger on it yet, but he would. He reasoned that seeing her again had thrown him badly. He had thought he could handle it, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  ‘In future, I’ll make certain your mail hits the top of the stack,’ he offered for the sake of building a working relationship.

  ‘Thank you, Raffa.’

  Even that bland response made him suspicious. Leila was too mild—so mild she made him curious as to why. The Leila he knew was quiet, but she stood up for herself, and was feisty and fun. This Leila was guarded and distant. Keeping up a business front couldn’t account for such a complete change in anyone.
r />   Keeping up a business front wouldn’t be easy for either of them, he conceded. It was hard for him to find a comfortable operating zone with a woman who had been his lover and who was now a colleague. It would have been easier with anyone other than Leila, because most women didn’t want what she wanted from him; they were far more calculating. But Leila had always been quite open about wanting the whole nine yards: the happy ending, the home, the children—not quite sure about the doting husband, though she deserved nothing less. But none of that was in his gift. He was a confirmed bachelor who had learned to curb his feelings from a young age.

  ‘Seeing as you haven’t received my mail, I hope you won’t think my ideas for the exhibition too ambitious, Raffa.’

  Again he detected tension in her voice and wondered at it. ‘Nothing you ever did could surprise me, Leila.’

  She looked away, when he had only been trying to lighten the atmosphere. Now he was certain she was hiding something. ‘Twenty minutes and we’ll be there,’ he said, wondering which of them longed to reach their destination more.

  She was here to work, Leila reminded herself firmly. Raffa didn’t have to be the man she remembered. She didn’t expect him to be. And she would have plenty of chances while she was on the island to tell him she was pregnant. If they were going to work together she had to put things back on track before she tackled anything personal.

  ‘I’m looking forward to learning more about your gems.’

  Dipping his head briefly to register the fact that he’d heard her was Raffa’s only response.

  She couldn’t leave it at that. She had to straighten things out between them. ‘I realise you’re far more sophisticated than I am, but—’

  ‘Let me put you out of your misery, Leila.’ He said this coolly, not even glancing at her as he concentrated on the road ahead. ‘You’re here to work and so am I. I’m not on your agenda and you’re not on mine. Not in the personal sense, anyway. Does that reassure you?’

  Her stomach clenched at Raffa’s words. He couldn’t have made it any plainer that he didn’t want any reminders of their brief and passionate encounter. ‘I am reassured,’ she lied, her mind full of the baby. How could she tell him now?