Читать книгу One Night To Wedding Vows - Ким Лоренс, Kim Lawrence - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

‘FINE. I’LL SLEEP with the first man I see!’

It was really hard to maintain any dignity, having just issued a threat worthy of a teenager having a tantrum, thought Lara. Mark’s laugh in response only made her madder, so she slammed the door as hard as she could. Lara was slim but she was tall and athletic so the door rattled in its frame.

The first man she saw was the balding middle-aged proprietor of the hotel they had booked into for their romantic weekend.

He looked at Lara with concern as she rushed past him into the street, tears coursing down her cheeks.

The blurb had claimed the small hotel was within walking distance of all the main tourist sites, clearly a gross exaggeration. But it hadn’t mattered to Lara, who had never had any intention of doing a lot of sightseeing!

How could she have been such a fool?

She had thought Mark was different. Maybe I’m meant to be alone, she thought. The prospect wrenched a sob from her throat.

Self-pity, said the voice in her head, is very unattractive. She ignored it and sniffed loudly and angrily.

This would never have happened to Lily, but then no man who took her twin away for a romantic weekend would have acted as though he’d been lured there under false pretences if he discovered she was a virgin.

Was her twin a virgin...?

A thoughtful expression flickered across her face as Lara considered the question. Her twin didn’t talk to her much about that sort of thing, but then they hadn’t talked about that sort of thing since the boy she’d known Lily had fancied had taken Lara to the Christmas party the year they were sixteen. It was years ago now, and a joke, but Lil hadn’t see it that way at the time... What had his name been?

How ironic if Lily was not a virgin, while she, who people assumed had had more lovers than handbags, most definitely was. But then that was people for you—they always assumed the worst. So Lara had decided a long time ago that life was simpler if you just let them.

People did so love their boxes—Lily was the sensible twin while Lara was the wild child. She liked to party ergo she slept around. Right now she wished she had!

She bit her lip, feeling a fresh rush of tears.

‘I hate men, all men and especially Mark Randall!’

For about thirty seconds the outburst made her feel empowered, then like all pointless gestures it left a sense of anticlimax and the knowledge this was her own fault.

It could have been worse—she could have slept with him and then discovered he was a pathetic loser. What was it about him that she’d been attracted to in the first place?

Smooth brow pleated, she pondered the question. True, he’d seemed like a considerate boss and he’d noticed her. Everyone noticed her, but Mark had noticed her for her work. He’d said she had potential, and she hadn’t minded doing extra work, work way beyond her pay grade, because he appreciated it and he was one of the few men in the building who hadn’t tried it on... Hmm, big clue there, Lara.

She had decided that there was sensitivity gleaming behind his horn-rimmed spectacles and kindness in his eyes. She’d felt safe around him and love, or the sort she wanted, was about feeling safe and secure.

Lara did not want the sort of love that would leave her feeling utterly bereft if she found out her lover or husband was cheating. Had Dad been a cheat? Lara didn’t know for certain if the charming, charismatic father she had adored had been unfaithful. The clues had all been there, but she had never asked her mum for confirmation. She didn’t think she could bear to hear the answer.

Lara never intended to feel that way about any man, so while her friends looked for men who made them lose control Lara looked for quite different qualities.

Qualities her new boss had seemed to epitomise. For the first time she was being treated as an equal by someone who saw her as a person and not a sex object, and she had found the combination irresistible.

He was too nice and too professional, she reasoned, to make the first move, which was sweet but a bit frustrating. Not being someone who thought patience or unrequited love were good things, Lara had set about making him notice that she could do more than file.

It hadn’t been easy and she had even started to wonder if he was gay, but then right out of the blue he had asked her: a weekend in Rome. She’d been waiting for the right man and the right time and it had finally arrived—or so she’d thought.

True love. It existed, she was sure of it. You could get sent home from school for wearing your skirt too short and still be a romantic. You could party and still want a family and a home.

She was prepared to wait for the right man, but she saw no reason why the wait had to be boring! Lara was gregarious and she had always enjoyed an active social life; men liked her and she enjoyed their company.

She was aware that her lifestyle made many assume that she enjoyed casual sex, but she never strung men along and if some chose to boast of a non-existent conquest she lost no sleep over it or over those who couldn’t handle the fact she wasn’t into one-night stands.

The only question had been whether to tell Mark or not. In the end she’d decided she would—no relationship should start with secrets. The perfect opportunity had arisen earlier that night when he’d been scrolling through his phone and discovered a recent interview with his uncle, the CEO of the firm where they both worked.

‘This is what I have to deal with, but no point offending the guy. Look, listen to this...no, this is the part where he rambles on about family values,’ he sneered. ‘And this is the bit when he says one-night stands are—’

‘Mark?’ He looked up, seeming to notice for the first time that she was standing there wearing the matching silk bra and pants she had spent so long choosing.

I’m competing with a smartphone.

‘Actually, Mark.’ Her self-esteem was pretty robust and the fact that he wasn’t jumping on her was what made Mark different, special, someone who liked her for more than her looks, she reminded herself as she resisted the urge to throw his phone out of the window. ‘I’m not really into one-night stands.’

‘Sweet, but I wouldn’t judge you, darling, and this isn’t one night—we’re here for the whole weekend.’

‘I mean I’ve never had a one-night stand.’

He put down his phone. ‘You’ve got a boyfriend?’

‘Would I be here with you if I had a boyfriend?’

He pushed his glasses back on his nose, a habit that she’d always found endearing but that left her cold at that moment. ‘I don’t know, you know, I don’t like the idea of stepping on some guy’s toes... What does he do?’

‘There is no guy. I don’t have a boyfriend. You’re my first.’

‘One weekend doesn’t mean we’re engaged, sweetheart.’

‘You’re my first lover!’

He laughed at the joke, then, when she didn’t join in, stopped. ‘Not seriously.’

‘Totally seriously.’

‘But you can’t be...you’re a...you’ve always been...’

‘Easy?’ She read the expression in his eyes before he looked away and the cold ache in her chest intensified.

At her sides her fingers flexed as she fought the urge to bring her arms up in a protective gesture across her chest. It was pride that kept her chin at a challenging angle while inside she had shrivelled up in shame and embarrassment.

‘No. It’s just, you have to admit, you came on to me like—and Ben in Marketing...he says...’

‘What does Ben in Marketing say?’

It finally dawned on him that she was serious and he looked sick. ‘Oh, God, Lara, I don’t do virgins, hell, no! It’s such a responsibility. This is just a bit of fun, and when Carol had to cancel I couldn’t get a refund.’

‘Carol?’

‘You wouldn’t know her. She doesn’t have to work, she’s my, my...well, we’re not actually engaged yet but—’

‘So when your fiancée couldn’t make it you looked around for someone who everyone knows is an easy lay...’

His sulky pout vanished as he cut across her. ‘Well, you weren’t supposed to be a bloody virgin!’

‘So sorry, my mistake, but that’s the problem with small print, isn’t it?’ she commiserated. ‘How about if I go away, get some scalps under my belt, and come back? Will that change things?’

‘We-e-ell...’

Unbelievable! He was actually considering it! She edged her voice with ice as she ground out, ‘I wouldn’t sleep with you if you came with a seat on the board.’

If they were handing out awards for sheer blind stupidity, I, Lara reflected grimly, would have had a clean sweep.

‘Oh, and I doubt that rich, doesn’t-have-to-work Carol would have been impressed by the room.’ A cheater and a cheapskate, Lara, you know how to pick them!

* * *

As she went over the scene yet again, wincing at her exit line, her tears dried and she realised that, not only did she have no idea where she was, but when she had made her dramatic exit she had taken nothing with her, not her purse, her phone...nothing.

She paused and looked around her, debating her options. She could continue to wander aimlessly feeling sorry for herself, try to retrace her steps or find someone and ask for directions back to the hotel. Option three made the most sense, but the street was deserted.

A moment later, she wished the street had stayed deserted as out of a side alley a group of young men appeared, five or six of them making enough noise for twenty. There was some good-natured banter and a bit of pushing and shoving. It was hard to tell the mood and quite honestly she didn’t fancy staying around to find out.

Alcohol, testosterone, peer pressure—not a good combination.

Hampered by her high spiky heels, she only got a few steps before one of the group spotted her.

Lara didn’t react to him or to the cacophony of calls and whistles, and instead just carried on walking. Do not show fear! Do not show fear!

Any minute now someone would walk round that corner, a figure of authority, someone who would say... ‘Ouch!’

By some miracle she managed not to fall when one of her heels came clear off, but her recovery was not elegant and the pain that shot through her ankle was agonising. She registered the laughter behind and this time it was her temper, not her heel, that snapped.

In the grip of a red-mist moment, she slipped off the broken shoe and, with it in her hand, turned to face the group. Her chest lifted in tune with her angry inhalations, her green eyes flashing contempt and fury, her mind clear of the fear she had felt just moments ago. The group of young men became the focus of all her accumulated anger and the humiliation seething inside her.

She was so focused on them that the fact that someone had come around the corner didn’t register on Lara’s radar.

Her red hair swirled around her like a silken curtain as she allowed her eyes to travel disdainfully over their collective heads.

Wrath swelled inside her, mingled with self-disgust. She had been running from them, and they were just kids... Well, teenagers really. Although this did not entirely remove the potential threat they represented, Lara was too mad to care. This was the real Lara, the one who stood her ground, not the one who’d run off crying because her dream lover had turned out to be a totally useless louse.

She took several limping steps towards them. Nobody was laughing now, the victim having taken them all by surprise, or perhaps they were just stunned by her beauty.

The scene’s new onlooker could identify with that!

Dio, but she was utterly stunning! She managed by some miracle to be graceful, even minus one heel. The red dress she wore clung lovingly to every inch of her sinuous curves and clashed with the glorious cloud of hair she tossed back. She brandished the shoe in one hand while delivering a killer glare at her persecutors like some glorious Valkyrie descended from the heavens. And then Raoul got his first full look at her face.

The purity of her features had been visible in profile—she had a little chin, high forehead, smooth sculpted cheeks, and straight little nose. But what he hadn’t been able to appreciate fully was the liquid flash of incredible long-lashed eyes set beneath curved, feathery, dark brows or the miracle of her mouth, the firm bottom lip softened by the lush fullness of the upper.

If the first stroke of heat had nailed him to the spot, this subsequent one shut down his brain, though the absence of his higher functions did not prevent other parts of his body continuing to act and react with painful independence.

‘Your idea of a good night out, is it?’

English, her voice pitched low even in anger; it had a sexy huskiness as she rounded on the gang who probably didn’t understand a word she was saying.

One laughed and she pounced on him with the verbal punch of a spitting cat. ‘Big man, aren’t you, with your friends around you?’ she jeered, swinging her stabbing finger around the group. ‘Alone would you or any of your friends here be so brave? You’re a bunch of pathetic losers who should be ashamed of themselves...’ She focused on the ringleader and pointed the finger at him. ‘If I was your mother I’d be ashamed!’

Under the battering tirade, several of the boys started to back away and one even lifted his hand and said, ‘Sorry, beautiful lady.’

Raoul agreed with the description but would have added gutsy to the description. He couldn’t think of another woman he knew who would have handled the situation in the same way. It had been a risky move, but you couldn’t help admire her bloody-minded bravery.

Who was she, this brave, slightly crazy redhead? She bent to rub her ankle, causing the red dress to pull tight across her hips and behind.

He thought that must be the trigger, her lovely bottom, and raging teenage hormones. Whatever the cause, the effect was an immediate and complete change of atmosphere. One second it looked as though the situation had been defused, but then one boy—that was all it ever took—who clearly wanted to show off in front of his friends, took a swaggering step forward. He yelled out a mocking taunt at his retreating comrades and advanced towards the redhead with leering intent.

As he watched, Raoul’s jaw tightened, though he could tell the girl didn’t understand a word of the filth the kid flung at her, but his attitude needed no translation. She stood poised in a flight-or-fight mode, watching him like a lamb watching a fox.

The situation, he decided, had gone on long enough. Raoul stepped out of the shadows, fists clenched. He found there was a smile on his face, now he finally had a legitimate target for the anger that still swirled around inside him.

* * *

Lara’s energising burst of angry adrenaline had exploded like a courageous firework, but now that it had smouldered and faded away she felt scared and terrifyingly vulnerable as the boy moved towards her.

She wanted to run but her feet seemed nailed to the ground. In the periphery of her vision she was aware that the others had stopped walking away, a couple had turned back and they were all watching...waiting...?

Weirdly her brain carried on functioning regardless of the paralysing dread. Then as the paralysis lifted instinct took over and she moved towards one of the street lights. An illusion of safety was better than nothing.

She lifted her hand to her ear and began to speak, her clear voice floating across to the young men, confusing them for a moment. But then one noticed that she had no phone in her hand and the yells began again.

Do not show fear.

A bit late for that, Lara thought. The group had slowly moved until she was surrounded. You should have run when you had the chance, said the voice in her head. Too late now! One tormentor might not have been so bad. She could have dealt with one, talked her way out perhaps, but with several, all egging each other on...?

Aware that her options had been reduced to calling for help and hoping someone would come to her aid, Lara opened her mouth to shout. Only a strangled squeak emerged, but it was drowned out by a new voice, a voice that held an edge of bored irritation.

‘Where have you been? I said outside the casino!’

The youths stopped and swivelled towards him. Raoul raised a sardonic brow and allowed his disdainful glance to drift over them, satisfied they were not going to present a problem. He ignored the flicker of something close to regret—now was not the time to get his knuckles bloody—and instead turned his scrutiny to the luscious redhead. As their glances connected he saw comprehension supplant the shock in her wide-spaced eyes—could that colour possibly be real?—and she didn’t miss a beat before replying, ‘Casino...?’ She shook her head. ‘No, you said we’d go on there afterwards.’

And that smile...!

He’d never understood dedicated enthusiasts who waited for hours in often uncomfortable positions to catch a glimpse of a rare bird. But he would wait for ever to see that smile again, especially as it deepened, revealing a dimple in her smooth cheek. Raoul couldn’t think of a reason in the world not to respond to the challenge in her emerald eyes.

‘And I’m not late, you’re early.’

He watched as she pulled off her other shoe, giving another excellent view of her delicious bottom, and strolled with a sexy sway of her hips towards him. ‘Luckily for you,’ she breathed, ‘I’m very understanding.’ What are you doing, Lara?

God knows! came the answer, but it felt...what? Actually it was hard to put a label on the fizz in her blood. The nearest she could liken it to was champagne bubbles bursting, vastly preferable to feeling like some silly little girl who had run away.

No, you’re just a silly girl who is jumping from the frying pan into the fire! It seems you’re not content with laughing at the face of danger—you have to set a collision course with it!

The racing thoughts slid through her head in the time it took her to fully absorb the man who had decided to be her guardian angel. Not that there was anything angelic about him, unless you were talking the dark, fallen and supremely sexy variety! Her first glance had told her that and even with several feet separating them she had felt the impact on her senses of the sensuality he projected, raw and primal.

A little shudder traced a path down her spine as she realised this wasn’t a case of someone trying to be something—he was something. There was nothing contrived about the maleness, it was simply an integral part of him.

The powerful sexual charge he oozed made it almost irrelevant that he was the best-looking man she had ever seen. Well, not quite irrelevant, she admitted as her eyes travelled the long, lean length of him.

He was tall, very tall with the broad-of-shoulder, lean-of-hip sort of muscular frame usually associated with athletes. He was dressed expensively in a black suit, and a tie of the same colour was looped around his open-necked shirt; the vee of skin it revealed showed the same glowing golden tone as his face, minus the stubble that dusted his jaw and lean cheeks.

The stubble was the same black as his brows, which were straight and thick, one angled in at a sardonic slant above the narrow, heavy-lidded, thickly lashed eyes they framed. His strong-boned face was a miraculous arrangement of planes and angles, razor-edged high cheekbones, high forehead, aquiline nose and a strong jaw.

The only thing that alleviated the overwhelming masculinity was his mouth and the sensual fullness of his lower lip, though any suggestion of softness was counterbalanced by his firm upper lip, which had a hint of cruelty about it.

Her rescuer was doing some looking himself, his expression shielded by his heavy eyelids, but when he reached her bare feet one dark brow hitched higher.

Lara felt a giggle well up in her throat.

Up to that point he’d been making an effort to retain what grip on reality he had left, but the seductive sound she made precluded any return of common sense. He felt as hot as the glorious waves of her hair looked, and it was all he could do not to reach out and touch the flames.

‘Long story.’ She lowered her voice and leaned in closer, placing her hands on his forearms to steady herself. As her fingers pressed through the fabric she could feel the hard, sinewy strength beneath, and her stomach muscles quivered. ‘Would thank you be premature? Are they still there?’ she whispered.

‘A couple.’

Lara wanted to ask how he knew when he’d not taken his eyes off her face, but she couldn’t. Her throat was full, not with tears, but with something else, the same something that was sending intermittent tremors through her body.

They were standing close enough to be taken for lovers, close enough for his nostrils to quiver in response to the scent of her hair. He fought the primitive compulsion to pull her into him, let her feel what she was doing to him.

‘You saved me.’

‘It was a pleasure,’ he said, breathing in that scent.

The corners of her mouth lifted in a rueful grimace. ‘I didn’t handle it very well.’

He watched her smooth brow furrow. There was something quite fascinating about the expressions that flickered across her vivid little face.

‘I lost my temper.’ She bit her lip and tilted her head downwards, looking up at him through the mesh of her lashes. ‘It’s been a...not good day.’

‘I’ve had one of those too.’

It was a connection. The silence could have been companionable, but it wasn’t. The air was charged with a sexual tension so thick that Lara struggled to breathe. She’d never experienced anything like this before.

‘Have I said thank you?’

His dark eyes smiled, the crinkles at the corners deepening. ‘My money was on you.’

‘I was scared stiff.’ She gave a tiny shudder. ‘Well, thank you anyway...?’

‘Raoul. Raoul Di Vittorio.’

‘Thank you, Raoul. I’m Lara—Lara Gray.’ Ignoring the voice in her head that warned she was playing with fire, she tipped her head back; hooking one hand behind his head and stretching up, she brushed his mouth with her soft, pouting lips.

She was about to pull back when his mouth began to move slowly and sensuously over her lips. She kissed him back, not teasingly now, but with a hungry longing she hadn’t felt before. A moan drifted up from her throat as his tongue slid deeper. Afraid she would fall, even more afraid that this would stop, she clutched at his jacket and hung on.

When they broke apart the street was empty.

Lara stood there, gasping for air like someone who’d just run a marathon.

There were so many alarm bells ringing in his head that Raoul could barely hear himself think. What the hell was he doing?

He was forgetting.

He took hold of her hands, releasing the lapels of his jacket from her death grip. As she let go and stepped away from him her face lifted. Her lips, swollen from his kisses, quivered as she ran the tip of her tongue over them and blinked like a sleepwalker on waking somewhere unexpected.

‘Oh, my!’ she whispered.

The visceral stab of lust that lanced through him took Raoul’s breath away. Dio, but she was beautiful, and he wanted to taste her again, he wanted to do a lot more than taste her.

Lara stared up at him wanting him to kiss her again, willing him to kiss her again. It was hard to escape the bold, sensual glittering in his deep-set eyes, but Lara didn’t even try.

The warm, heavy, dreamy sensation that held her rooted to the spot was now being supplanted by a heart-racing excitement that left her dizzy. Her stomach muscles quivered as her eyes lingered on his mouth. She couldn’t tear her eyes clear of the sensually sculpted outline, nor forget the taste of brandy in his kiss.

‘Are you drunk?’ she asked, struggling to think through the sexual fog in her brain as she tilted her head to one side. She’d have liked to think it would matter if he was, but she’d never run full tilt into a solid wall of lust before, so the whole experience was new for her.

His mouth quirked, one corner lifting in a way she found utterly fascinating. Actually, everything about him fascinated her. She had no idea what it was she was feeling. It was visceral in a way that went beyond anything she had ever felt before.

‘Not strictly sober, but not drunk.’ It was, he realised, true. ‘How about you?’

She shook her head, the excitement fizzing through her blood more intoxicating than champagne. ‘Are you married?’

His expression didn’t change but she saw something unidentifiable move in his eyes before he responded, ‘Not any more.’

She reacted to his comment with a small grunt of satisfaction as the tiny furrow between her brows smoothed out. ‘That’s good.’

He smiled again and Lara’s knees started to shake. None of this made any sense. She had planned on being seduced tonight but at no stage had she planned on not being in charge of the process. Or of being seduced by a total stranger!

‘You’re very beautiful.’

The faint rasp in the smooth, dark-chocolate purr of his voice made her shiver; the touch of his finger on her cheek made her insides dissolve.

‘So they tell me.’ His stare was hypnotic; the sensory overload was making her light-headed. She turned her head, not enough to break the connection. ‘This is quite mad.’

‘Mad can be good.’

‘Can it?’

His dark eyes gleamed. ‘Oh, yes.’ The furrow between his dark brows deepened. ‘Where did you come from?’ he asked, continuing to stroke her cheek.

‘I’m not sure.’

‘You just dropped from heaven.’ No angel had a mouth like hers. He focused on her lips and the pain in his groin, not the deeper pain that cut up his insides. She was an oasis to escape that pain, to lose it and himself inside.

His thumb touched the pouting curve of her lower lip and his hand stilled. ‘Boyfriend?’

Her chin lifted a notch, her nostrils flaring as her green eyes sparked. ‘Not any more,’ she rebutted firmly.

‘Where are you going?’

She closed a door in her head, blotting out Mark’s rejection and her stupidity.

‘With you, I hope.’ She heard the words, the supremely confident tone, even though inside she was anything but. Inside, she was holding her breath. She’d only just picked herself up and now she’d set herself up for another fall.

Head thrown back, she fixed him with an emerald stare that sent a fresh flash of heat through his already primed body. He could feel the hairs on the nape of his neck tingle as his body hardened in anticipation. Another time he might have blocked out his primitive response to this woman, might have heard the alarm bells, but tonight he didn’t think beyond it, instead he embraced the mindlessness of it.

For the first time since he’d discovered Jamie’s body he wasn’t hearing Rob’s broken voice in his head sobbing, ‘What am I going to do without him? He’s gone for ever. He’s gone...gone...gone...for ever...for ever, Raoul.’

That was what he had kept repeating over and over until Raoul could feel nothing but pain, his, Rob’s, just a universe of pain that went on and on.

Now he was feeling something that wasn’t pain and regret, and it didn’t matter that it was shallow or transient. He needed breathing space—not that he could breathe when he looked at this woman.

Did the ability to think of sex while in the depths of grief make him shallow? If Jamie had been burying him, would his brother have been able to escape so easily? Would he have wanted to?

He pushed away the speculation, the grief, the anger, the loss and lost himself to the moment of this intoxicatingly beautiful woman in his arms. He looked down into her sensual face and released a slow sigh. If he’d believed in fate, if he’d believed there was actually some grand plan, he’d have thought fate had sent her there at that moment.

He didn’t believe in fate but he did believe in embracing opportunities when they appeared, and the thought of shutting out the blackness in this woman’s arms just for an hour or two was irresistible.

‘That works for me, cara.’

She felt a rush of relief—for a moment she’d thought he’d been going to say thanks but no, thanks. Her confidence had already taken a battering today.

‘Good.’

He laughed, the sound sending a fresh tingle of excitement through her.

‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you.’

‘I have an identical twin sister.’

He slung a teasing look over his shoulder. ‘Is she around?’

If she were she wouldn’t be doing this with you. The thought came with an unbidden image of their headmistress berating her for some minor infringement ‘People will not respect you, Lara, unless you respect yourself. Your sister would never—’

‘No, she isn’t.’

Her flat response drew a sardonic look. ‘I was joking.’

For a split second as their eyes locked, Raoul thought he glimpsed a vulnerability that did not belong to the self-possessed, sensual creature who stood in front of him. But a moment later it was gone.

It had probably never been there.

Hell, he was not going to talk himself out of this. From the corner of his eye he saw a taxi and lifted his hand. His place was within walking distance but prolonging this agony was not on his agenda.

It was happening so quickly, she had no time to think; was this a good thing or a bad thing? She didn’t know and didn’t want to—the answer might make her walk away.

And she didn’t want to...she really didn’t want to.

Her senses were strangely heightened and yet she felt distanced from what was happening as a taxi stopped and then with the snap of the door she was inside, the jarring noise introducing a sense of reality to her dreamlike state.

But this was no dream.