Читать книгу Tempted By A Caffarelli - Melanie Milburne - Страница 17

CHAPTER NINE

POPPY HAD THOUGHT his kiss the other day was electrifying, but this time it was completely off the scale. As soon as his lips settled over hers it was as though fireworks had gone off under her skin. She had never felt such a surge of primal male energy before. It touched on something deep and essential to her as a woman. It was like breaking a secret code that had never been solved until now. Her flesh sang with delight as his mouth explored hers in intimate detail—the way his tongue came in search of hers in a brazenly, commanding gesture that had her belly quivering as soon he made contact.

She tasted the hot, hard, thrusting heat of him; tasted the hint of ruthlessness in his mouth; felt the chivalry in his touch that could so easily be put aside if the situation warranted it. It was that edgy, dangerous element about him that so totally captivated her. Hadn’t she felt that from the first moment she had met him? He was a man who always got what he wanted. He didn’t let anyone stand in his way.

His mouth ravished hers, plundering its depths with dips and dives of his masterful tongue against hers. Poppy shivered as she kissed him back, her tongue duelling with his in a heart-racing chase that made her toes curl inside her shoes. His mouth was hot, determined and purposeful, and she clung to him as she kissed him back just as passionately.

He gave a deep growl of pleasure and cupped her bottom in both of his hands, tugging her against the heated trajectory of his body.

Poppy slithered against him wantonly; her body aching for the pleasure his body was promising in that erotic embrace. She made a mewling sound beneath his passionate mouth, her arms going up to loop around his neck, to hold him to her.

For a moment she thought he was going to reach for her breast. She actually felt his hand move up her body, but then suddenly he broke the kiss and put her from him, moving some distance away as if he didn’t trust himself not to reach for her again.

He scraped a hand through his hair and let out a colourful expletive. ‘Sorry.’ He was breathing heavily. ‘I lost my head there for a moment.’

‘Is that such a bad thing?’

He gave her a grim look. ‘I never lose my head. Ever.’

‘Maybe it’s time you did.’

He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and moved even further away, turning his back on her. ‘This isn’t going to work, Poppy. You know it isn’t. It was a mistake to kiss you. I should’ve known better.’

Poppy felt herself bristling in affront. ‘I’m not asking you to marry me.’

He turned and threw her a black look. ‘You’re not my type. Do I have to spell it out any plainer than that?’

Self-doubt crept up and tapped her on the shoulder, mocking her with its cruel little taunts: you’re unattractive. You’re rubbish at kissing. You’ve got no pulling power, that’s why Oliver and every other date you’ve ever had moved on to the next girl as soon as they could.

Poppy straightened her spine and swung around to the door. ‘I’ll just get the rest of your dinner for you.’

‘Forget about it.’

‘It won’t take a minute.’ She turned back to look at him. ‘I just have to dish it up. I won’t stay, if that’s what’s—’

‘I’m not hungry.’

She forced herself to hold his unreadable gaze. ‘Will you be hungry tomorrow night, do you think?’

His eyes moved away from hers. ‘I’ll make my own arrangements with regards to food in future.’

‘Fine.’ She let out a stormy breath. ‘I’ll just get the dogs and be on my way.’

* * *

‘So how did the meal go down last night?’ Chloe asked the next morning. ‘Did you tickle Rafe Caffarelli’s tastebuds?’

Poppy kept her gaze averted as she went about getting the tearoom ready for business. She had used concealer that morning when she put on some make-up but it hadn’t done much to disguise the stubble rash on her chin. It looked like she’d been scrubbing at her face with a handful of steel wool. ‘There is something terribly defective about that man’s tastebuds,’ she said as she swished back the last of the curtains to let the watery sunshine in.

‘But you didn’t make anything sweet for him, did you?’

‘No, of course not.’ Had her mouth been too sweet for him? Poppy pushed the thought aside as she crossed the room to get the napkins out of the old pine dresser drawer. ‘He’s just one of those difficult to please customers we get from time to time.’

Chloe’s gaze narrowed. ‘What happened to your face?’

‘Nothing, just a bit of an allergy,’ Poppy said shutting the drawer firmly. ‘I probably leant too close to the honeysuckle or something.’

‘Since when have you been allergic to honeysuckle?’ Chloe came over and peered at Poppy’s chin like a scientist examining a ground-breaking discovery in the laboratory. ‘You’ve got beard rash!’

Poppy jerked her head away. ‘It’s not beard rash.’

‘It so is beard rash.’ Chloe grinned at her. ‘He kissed you, didn’t he? What was it like?’

Poppy pursed her lips and started placing the napkins by each setting. ‘I’d rather not discuss it.’

‘Did he want to sleep with you?’ Chloe asked. ‘Is that why you’re all uppity about it? Did he put the hard word on you or something?’

‘No, he did not put the hard word on me,’ Poppy said tightly. ‘He told me kissing me was a mistake, or words to that effect.’

Chloe blinked. ‘A mistake?’

‘I’m not his type.’ Poppy leaned over the table near the window to put the last napkin down and straightened. ‘Not that I want to be his type or anything—it’s just there’s a way to let a girl down gently without savaging her self-esteem in the process.’

Chloe angled her head quizzically. ‘So, let me get this straight: you wanted to sleep with him but he knocked you back?’

‘I’m not saying I would’ve slept with him, exactly...’

‘But you were tempted.’

‘A little.’

Chloe raised her brows.

‘OK...a lot,’ Poppy said as she exhaled a breath.

‘I expect he’s a very good kisser.’

Poppy’s insides gave a funny little tug and a twist as she thought about Rafe’s determined mouth on hers. ‘The best.’

‘Which you can say from such a position of authority because you’ve kissed...how many men is it now?’

‘Six...no, seven. I forgot about Hugh Lindley in kindergarten, but I guess a peck on the cheek doesn’t count.’

‘That many, huh?’

Poppy let out her breath on another long sigh. ‘I know, I know. I have some serious catching up to do.’

‘Maybe Rafe Caffarelli isn’t the right place to start,’ Chloe said, glancing at Poppy’s chin again with a little frown. ‘You could get yourself really hurt.’

Tell me something I don’t already know. ‘I’m not planning on going anywhere near Rafe Caffarelli,’ Poppy said. ‘He’s made his position clear. I don’t need to be told twice.’

* * *

A couple of days later a deafening clap of thunder woke Rafe up during the middle of the night. The wind whipped around the manor like a dervish. It howled and screamed around the eaves and rafters, making the manor shake and shudder as if it was being rattled like a moneybox.

He went over to close the window the wind had worked loose from its catch just as a flash of lightning rent the sky into jagged pieces. The green-tinged light illuminated the dower house in the distance. His stomach clenched when he saw that one of the branches of the old elm tree had come down over the roof, crushing it like a flimsy cardboard box.

He quickly threw on some clothes and found a weatherproof jacket and a torch. He pressed Poppy’s number—his phone had recorded it when she’d rung about Chutney being missing—but she didn’t answer. He didn’t bother leaving a message. He snatched up his keys and raced out to his car, calling the emergency services on the way.

The wind almost knocked him off his feet. He hunched over and forged through the lashing rain, his mind whirling with sickening images of Poppy trapped under a beam. Which room was her bedroom? He tried to recall the layout of the house. There were three bedrooms, all of them upstairs. Wouldn’t the main one be the one where the elm tree was?

He hammered at the front door once he got there. ‘Poppy? Are you in there? Are you all right?’

There was no power so he couldn’t see anything, other than when the lightning zigzagged or from his torch, which was woefully low on batteries. ‘Poppy? Can you hear me?’

The sound of the dogs yapping inside lifted his spirits, but only just. What if they were all right but Poppy wasn’t? ‘Poppy?’ He roared over the howling gale.

‘I’m up here.’

Rafe looked up and shone the torch at the pale oval of Poppy’s face next to the gaping hole in the roof. Relief flooded him so quickly he couldn’t get his feet to move at first. He felt like his legs were glued to the porch. ‘I’m coming up,’ he called out. ‘Keep away from the beams. Don’t touch any power outlets or wires.’

He picked up a rock, smashed the glass panel beside the front door and reached inside to unlock the lock. He went upstairs, carefully checking for live wires or debris, but it seemed the branch had cut cleanly through the old roof and done little else but let the elements in.

The three little dogs—even Pickles, the unfriendly one—came rushing up to him, whining in agitation and terror. He quickly ushered them out of harm’s way into the bedroom on the other side of the house. ‘Later, guys,’ he said and closed the door before he headed to Poppy’s bedroom.

Poppy was pinned against the wall near the window by the beam that had almost sliced her bed in half. Rafe’s stomach pitched when he thought of how close she had come to being killed. She looked so tiny and frightened, her face chalk-white, her eyes as big as saucers.

‘Are you all right?’ His voice was hoarse from shouting.

‘I—I’m fine...I think.’

‘Don’t move until I check it’s safe,’ he said, shining the torch around.

‘I’m scared.’

‘I know you are, ma petite,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you out.’

‘Are the dogs OK?’

‘They’re fine,’ he said. ‘I locked them in the other bedroom.’

Once he’d established it was safe, he climbed over the fallen beam and grasped Poppy’s ice-cold hands. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as she shuddered in reaction. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘You’re safe now.’

‘I got up to close the window. If I hadn’t, I would’ve been right where that beam is...’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Rafe said, stroking her back with soothing movements, trying to ignore the way his body was responding to her. ‘I called the emergency services on my way down. They should be here any minute.’

The sound of a fire engine and an ambulance approaching could only just be heard over the howl of the wind. Rafe stayed with Poppy until the fire crew came up and led them to safety, along with the dogs, who were now safely on their leads so they couldn’t bolt at the sound of thunder.

Once they were outside, Rafe draped his weatherproof coat around Poppy’s shoulders. She was shivering uncontrollably but he had a feeling it was shock rather than cold.

‘You’ll have to spend the rest of the night some place else,’ one of the fire officers said. ‘That roof doesn’t look too safe. Another gust of wind and the whole lot could come down.’

‘I’ll take her home with me,’ Rafe said.

What did you just say? Are you out of your mind? It was too late to take it back, as the fire officer had already given a nod of approval and moved off to talk to one of the other officers.

Poppy glanced up at Rafe with a frown. ‘I can stay with Chloe and her mother. I’ll just give her a call...’ Her face suddenly fell. ‘Except my phone is upstairs by the bed.’

‘It’s two in the morning,’ Rafe said. ‘We’ll sort out more permanent accommodation later.’ You think that’s going to happen once you’ve got her under your roof? ‘Right now you need a hot drink and a warm comfortable bed.’

He led her to his car, got her settled in the passenger seat and put the dogs in the back before taking his place behind the wheel. The voice of his control centre was still nagging at him like an alarm bell that hadn’t been attended to: what are you doing, man? Take her to a hotel.

But somehow he managed to mute it as he turned over the engine and glanced at Poppy sitting beside him. ‘All right?’ he asked.

Her toffee-brown eyes seemed too big for her small white face. ‘I think my phone is crushed under that branch.’

He reached over and gave one of her hands a gentle squeeze. ‘Phones are easy to replace. They’re a dime a dozen.’

She gave him a weak smile. ‘Thank you for rescuing me and the dogs.’

He gave her hand a little pat before returning his to the steering wheel. ‘Don’t mention it.’

* * *

Poppy was still wearing Rafe’s jacket as she sat at the kitchen table half an hour later, her hands cupped around a mug of hot chocolate. There wasn’t a single tea leaf in the manor, not even a tea bag. The dogs were settled in the laundry on a pile of blankets Rafe had found. Pickles had even licked Rafe’s hand instead of snarling at him.

‘Do you need a refill?’ Rafe asked as he came in from giving the dogs a bowl of water.

‘No, this is perfect, thank you,’ Poppy said. ‘I’m starting to feel almost normal again.’

His dark gaze narrowed in focus. ‘What’s that on your chin?’

She put a hand to her face. ‘Oh...nothing. Just a little allergic reaction...’

He took her chin gently between his finger and thumb. Something moved behind his eyes, a softening, loosening look that made her belly turn over. He ever-so-gently passed the pad of his thumb over the reddened area. ‘I’ve got some cream upstairs to put on that.’

Poppy gave him a pert look to disguise her reaction to his closeness. ‘I suppose you have to keep an industrial-size container by your bedside, along with a giant box of condoms.’

The edge of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. ‘I only have three on me. They’re in my wallet.’

‘You surprise me,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d have them strategically placed all around the house.’

His hand fell away from her face, his expression becoming shuttered. ‘The stuff you read about me and my brothers is not always true. We’re not the partying time-wasters we’re made out to be.’

‘Haven’t you heard the expression “no smoke without fire”?’

‘Yes.’ His eyes glinted as they came back to hers. ‘I’ve also heard the one about playing with matches. Do I need to remind you of it?’

Poppy schooled her features into icy hauteur. ‘Do you really think I would’ve slept with you the other night?’

‘Undoubtedly.’

His arrogant confidence irked her into throwing back, ‘I was interested in kissing you again, I will admit that, but that’s as far as I was going to take it. But then, I suppose you assume every woman you kiss is yours for the taking. Obviously, I’m the exception to the rule.’

‘That’s something we could easily test—’ he paused for a heart-stopping beat ‘—if you’re game.’

Poppy didn’t know if he was calling her bluff or not. Either way, she wished she hadn’t been so foolishly reckless in brandishing about a self-confidence she didn’t even possess. He had kissed her twice now and she had practically melted in his arms. What would another kiss do?

Make her fall in love with him?

She pushed her chair back and got to her feet. ‘I’d like to go to bed.’ She gave him a pointed look. ‘Alone.’

‘Wise of you.’ He smiled a fallen angel’s smile.

Poppy felt a shiver go down her spine as she thought of how that mouth had felt against hers, how his hard body had felt. He was sin and temptation wrapped up in one hell of a hot package. She was playing with fire, striking up a conversation with him, let alone anything else. She just didn’t have the defences or the sophistication to deal with someone like him.

‘Goodnight,’ she said as primly as Mother Superior to one of her novices.

‘Goodnight, ma petite.’ He paused for a beat as his gaze held hers in a lock that sent a shudder straight to her core. ‘Sweet dreams.’