One More Sleepless Night Page 12

  ‘Wow,’ she managed once her breathing had eased, her heart rate had slowed and her surroundings had swum back into focus.

  ‘Quite.’ Even with his mouth muffled by her shoulder, Rafael sounded as stunned as she was.

  ‘What was that?’

  Gently easing out of her, he rolled to one side and propped himself up on an elbow. ‘One harmless little kiss apparently.’

  She looked up at him and slowly smiled. ‘Ah, but it didn’t hurt, did it?’

  ‘The kisses didn’t,’ he said raggedly. ‘However the damage to my back might be irreparable.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, too happy revelling in the aftermath of what had been the most glorious sex of her life to feel in the slightest bit apologetic. ‘Is it that bad?’

  ‘Not that bad. And I think I can live with it. Especially since you begged so nicely.’

  She jerked her gaze to his and arched an eyebrow at the teasing glint in his eyes. ‘I did not beg.’

  ‘Yes, you did. I remember it clearly.’

  ‘I pleaded. There’s a difference.’

  ‘You think?’

  His grin was too smug to ignore. ‘I’ll show you.’

  ‘How?’

  Giving him a deliberately smouldering smile, Nicky pushed him onto his back, climbed on top of him and watched with satisfaction as a flicker of wariness leapt in his eyes.

  ‘You’ll see,’ she said, and began to slide down his body.

  *

  ‘You know, you’re absolutely right,’ said Rafael quite a while later when he was able to think again. ‘There is a difference.’

  Nicky glanced up and grinned. ‘Told you.’

  ‘Feeling smug?’

  ‘A little.’

  And actually she had every right to, he thought, because frankly the afternoon had been astounding. When he’d initially pulled her into his arms he’d had the feeling that they’d be good together, but nothing could have prepared him for the explosive way they’d responded to each other. Over and over again she’d come apart in his arms and beneath his mouth, and he’d shattered in and beneath hers more times than he could count. It was truly staggering.

  Now it was dusk and she was sitting cross-legged in his bed wearing one of his T-shirts and eating a tortilla he’d whipped up, tousled haired, sleepy-eyed and looking thoroughly ravished, and with any luck the night would be equally astonishing because unbelievably he wanted her again.

  As the desire that had never really gone away surged through him for the dozenth time this afternoon Rafael felt himself harden and stabbed his fork into a piece of tortilla.

  What was it about Nicky that made him lose such control and forget about everything but her? Where had all those thoughts of revenge come from? And as for wanting to make her beg, what the hell had that been all about?

  The need to possess her, to make her succumb, had been all-consuming, and, for someone who’d always been so focused and in control when it came to sex, the realisation that all it took was a gorgeous woman, weeks of frustration and scorching chemistry to derail him so spectacularly like that was kind of harrowing.

  ‘And tired,’ said Nicky, yanking Rafael out of his thoughts in time for him to see her smothering a yawn and stretching languidly. ‘You’ve worn me out. It’s a good thing I stocked up on rest at the cortijo.’

  And that was another thing, he thought as the comment she’d made earlier about not being well flashed into his head and a wave of guilt washed over him. Forget the mental gymnastics he was going through. What about the extremely physical ones he’d spent the afternoon subjecting her to?

  He swore softly beneath his breath. Nicky had been ill and never mind that everything they’d done had been entirely mutual, he should have taken more care. Better still, he should have held his ground and resisted her in the first place, but there was little use in beating himself up about that again.

  ‘Rafael?’ she asked, the tinge of concern in her voice making him feel even worse. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Are you?’

  She blinked and shot him a dazzling smile that slowly flipped his stomach. ‘Of course I am. I feel fabulous. Why do you ask?’

  ‘You said you hadn’t been very well.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘True, but I also said I’d recovered. As I think we’ve just admirably demonstrated.’ She frowned. ‘I hope you don’t think you hurt me or anything.’

  Rafael stiffened with resolve because he’d let too much slide and he wasn’t about to let this go. ‘If you’ve been ill, can you blame me?’

  There was a pause, then she set her fork down and looked at him, pinning him to the mattress with those stormy grey-blue eyes of hers. ‘OK,’ she said, linking her fingers in her lap and leaning forwards earnestly. ‘Here’s the thing. Yes, I haven’t been particularly well, but neither have I been exactly ill.’

  As his once sharp but now apparently addled brain tried to work out what she meant and failed, Rafael frowned. He’d had a first class education initially at public school in England, then at Cambridge and finally at Harvard, and he’d always assumed he was pretty much bilingual, but perhaps he’d been deluding himself all these years. Perhaps somewhere along the way he’d missed the lesson on nuance, because right now he couldn’t work out what she was saying. ‘I’m afraid you’ve lost me.’

  ‘I nearly lost myself.’

  ‘How?’ he asked, now even more perplexed.

  ‘Burnout.’

  ‘Burnout?’

  ‘That’s right. Gaby diagnosed it a few weeks ago and I think she was right.’

  The image of the Nicky he’d first met flashed though Rafael’s head. She’d been pale and gaunt. Exhausted and troubled. Tense, prickly and on edge. And enveloped by that disturbing air of desolate defeat.

  All classic signs of burnout, he realised, and all of which he’d seen before. Hell, he’d even got work because of it but it had never occurred to him that that was what Nicky had been suffering from. But then he’d been so caught up in wanting her and wondering why she didn’t want him that little else had occurred to him.

  ‘What caused it?’ he said, and forced himself to focus on her instead of barrelling off down the road of self-recrimination yet again.

  She tilted her head and regarded him for a moment, as if internally debating whether or not to tell him. Then she straightened as if bracing herself, and for some reason his chest tightened. ‘Remember how I told you I was a photojournalist?’

  He nodded and took a deep breath to ease the pressure. ‘I looked you up on the Internet. Your work is incredible.’ Although actually incredible didn’t begin to describe it. The pictures she took were powerful, provocative, beautiful and thought-provoking. He’d read that she’d won awards and as he’d scrolled through the gallery on her website he’d been able to see why.

  She beamed. ‘Thank you.’ Then she sobered. ‘Well, anyway, a year or so ago I was on assignment in the Middle East, covering a demonstration about rights for women. It was all going fine. Very peaceful and I got some excellent shots. But then some men turned up—family members of a few of the women, I found out later—and took exception. Especially to me and my camera.’

  He thought he heard her voice shake a little and the pressure in his chest returned. ‘What happened then?’

  Nicky sighed. ‘To be honest I don’t remember all that much about it. One minute I was taking pictures, the next I was surrounded and being jostled and pushed to the ground. But I guess eventually my instinct for survival kicked in because somehow I managed to escape and make my way back to my hotel.’

  Rafael felt his jaw clench. Why on earth had she put herself in such danger? Surely no photograph was worth risking one’s life for?

  ‘Of course I’d had training in how to deal with things like that,’ she continued, ‘but it was the first time it had happened to me and, in all the panic, I kind of forgot everything I’d been taught.’

  ‘Were you badly hurt?’

  ‘D
epends what you mean by badly. I only had a couple of broken ribs so I guess I got off pretty lightly really. My camera, however, suffered infinitely more. It was smashed to bits. Luckily, though, I’d managed to take out the memory card before they got hold of it.’

  ‘It must have been terrifying.’

  Nicky shrugged. ‘It’s not an experience I’m particularly keen to repeat, I admit. And I’m not a huge fan of crowds.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. So is that what your nightmares are about?’

  This time she didn’t bother pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about. ‘Pretty much.’ She added, ‘Sometimes the details vary but only slightly. Lately though they’ve been getting fuzzier and I have them far less often than I used to so that’s good. Anyway it all happened ages ago, and I’m fine about it. Really.’

  Hmm. Was she? ‘So where does the burnout come in?’

  Nicky blinked and gave him a rueful smile. ‘Oh, well, I was so determined to prove that what had happened hadn’t affected me that I went a bit overboard on the work front.’

  ‘Overboard?’

  ‘Put it this way. I didn’t so much get back on the horse as saddle it up and take it round the Grand National a couple of times. I started working every waking hour I had and barely stopped for breath.’

  Rafael frowned. ‘Was that sustainable?’

  ‘No. I was hurtling from time zone to time zone so much that I had no idea whether it was morning or night. It played havoc on my sleep and eventually I just wore out. Even taking my camera out of its case ended up becoming a major task and that scared me witless because if I can’t take photos I don’t know what else there is.’ She ran a hand through her hair. ‘I think I just kind of gave up. It was so tiring treading water, I simply stopped. And once I’d done that then I really began to sink.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound good,’ he muttered, knowing it was an understatement but too mystified by all the stuff beginning to churn around inside him to respond with anything more sensible.

  ‘No, well, it wasn’t,’ she said dryly, ‘but it’s why I ended up at your house. It’s why when we met I was in a bit of a state. And it’s why when you kissed me I couldn’t respond, even though I desperately wanted to. When I told you that my lack of response to you wasn’t you but me, I meant it. Along with everything else I’d lost all interest in sex. It was like I was dead inside.’

  ‘But not any more.’

  She grinned. ‘Not any more. And I’ve been taking pictures again. Of your vineyard. Do you mind?’

  Did he mind? God, it was the least he could offer after all she’d been through. After all he’d put her through, and not just this afternoon. ‘Of course not.’

  Her smile deepened and his stomach twisted. ‘Great. Well, anyway, it turns out your sister is quite the psychiatrist because she was the one who decided a rest and a time-out to regroup was the answer and she was right. That cortijo of yours was exactly what I needed.’

  No, what Nicky needed was looking after, Rafael decided darkly, because God, he’d thought he’d had a tough time of it lately, but, compared with what she’d been through, a merger, a handful of demanding relatives and a persistent ex were nothing. And she might act as if she was over what had happened but was she? Really?

  ‘So what plans do you have next?’ he asked, ignoring the little voice inside his head demanding to know where he thought he was going with this, because she might not really be over it and she might need looking after but he definitely wasn’t the sort of person who should be getting involved.

  She lifted her eyebrows. ‘You mean beyond some more of that lovely restorative sex?’

  ‘Beyond that.’

  She blinked and shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m not very good at living beyond the present.’

  ‘Well, I’m at a loose end… You’re at a loose end… What would you say to tying our loose ends together for a while?’

  She grinned. ‘I’d say does that line really work?’

  Rafael frowned because oddly enough it hadn’t been a line. ‘I have no idea. You tell me.’

  TWELVE

  Apparently it did because a week later Nicky was back at the cortijo with Rafael, and she was loving every minute of it.

  And why wouldn’t she be when she was being so well attended to? she thought, feeling a sleepy satisfied smile spread across her face as she yawned and stretched gingerly so as not to wake Rafael, who was still asleep beside her.

  Since they’d been back he’d been pretty much the perfect host. Not only had he made sure she was well fed and well rested, but he’d kept her entertained too. He’d taken her to the beach and taught her the basics of kite surfing. He’d driven her up into the coolness of the hills to a fabulous little restaurant overlooking a sparkling lake and fed her lobster. He’d spent an afternoon showing her round the vineyards and explaining how the fino she’d acquired quite a taste for was made. And then yesterday he’d asked her if she’d like to help with the harvest and they’d spent the day cutting away fat heavy bunches of grapes, until she couldn’t bear her aching back any longer and had begged him for a massage.

  As for the nights—and the siestas—well, those were something else. Nicky had always thought she’d had an active and relatively adventurous sex life but sleeping with Rafael took it to a whole new level. Over and over again she hit heights she’d never reached before, experiencing pleasure she hadn’t known existed. The lavish attention he paid her body and the wild intensity with which he devoured her blew her mind every time.

  She didn’t regret telling him all about her recent history one little bit. Back then, sitting on his bed in Madrid in the wake of that extraordinary afternoon, it had felt like the ideal opportunity to test her emotional strength, and it had been everything she’d hoped for.

  Opening up to him had been wonderfully liberating and that feeling of relief and freedom still lingered so she’d had no problem with answering the dozens of other questions he had about what had happened. She’d happily spilled out the details he’d asked for and at some point during the last week she’d felt something shift inside her. Something heavy dissipate. And she rather thought that at last—finally—she seemed to be getting over what had happened to her.

  How she’d ever imagined that she and Rafael had nothing in common other than Gaby and a dislike of complicated relationships Nicky would never know. Apart from being astonishingly compatible in bed, they shared a love of the outdoors and travel. Of good food and hard work. Of books and art. Intrigued, she’d interrogated him about his fascination with plants and he’d been equally curious about her unconventional upbringing.

  They seemed to be able to talk, laugh and argue about virtually everything under the sun. In fact pretty much the only thing that they hadn’t talked about was his marriage, and it sat between them like the proverbial elephant in the room. Or at least her corner of the room because, while Rafael was no doubt perfectly happy to leave it alone, she was becoming quite obsessed with wanting to know all about it.

  As she’d got to know him better, she’d found herself wondering what kind of husband he’d been, what his wife had been like, what kind of marriage they’d had and why it had failed. None of which she needed to know, of course, because she certainly wasn’t interested in him—or anyone else for that matter—in a matrimonial kind of way, but that didn’t stop her whiling away endless hours wondering.

  And because she could never ask such intrusive questions her imagination had been working overtime. He’d be protective, she’d decided. Passionate. Loyal. And caring. Oh, he might like to make out that he was only interested in himself but that wasn’t true at all, was it? Over the last few days she’d gathered plenty of evidence that contradicted that claim. She’d seen it in the way he’d provided food and water and shade for the temporary workers who’d been brought in to help with the harvest. In the way he’d frogmarched the housekeeper, Ana, to her room when she’d been stoically trying to carry on her duties through a stre
aming summer cold.

  And in the way he’d kept a distant yet watchful eye on her.

  Not that he’d needed to keep an eye on her because she was doing fine on her own, but that didn’t stop warmth stealing through her whenever she glanced at him and caught him looking at her with what she thought might be concern and heat and something else that she was struggling to identify.

  The warmth would have been worrying if she hadn’t known perfectly well that she and Rafael wouldn’t—couldn’t—last. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told him she wasn’t interested in anything long-term; now she was back to her usual self, she fully intended to resume her old life and globetrot her way across the planet in the way she knew and loved.

  Besides, they’d soon be going their separate ways. Once the summer was over Rafael would head back to Madrid and work, and she’d be back in Paris and lining up work of her own. And if that didn’t sound quite as appealing as it should, well, that was just nervousness about having been out of the game for a while, nothing more.

  Rafael stirred and Nicky frowned. Hmm. Maybe the fact that this thing between them would inevitably come to an end—and sooner rather than later—was something she ought to keep in the forefront of her mind. She couldn’t stay here for ever, and right now she might be having a great time but it wouldn’t do to get lulled into a false sense of security, which would be all too easy to do seeing as this last week had been so idyllic.

  She should probably stop spending quite so much time in his bed, she thought, carefully disentangling herself from the sheet and shifting away from him. In it she tended to lose all sense of perspective and reality and, while it was utterly lovely, getting used to it wouldn’t do her any favours at all. Even if she wanted to, with the way she scooted around the world, living in hotel rooms and out of a suitcase, she simply couldn’t afford to get used to anything.

  Barely managing to resist the temptation to flop back and wake Rafael up in the most delicious way she could think of, Nicky was in the process of swinging her legs round when a hand snapped round her wrist and stopped her in her tracks.