Illegitimate Tycoon (11 page)

 
          
She
let out a welcoming cry and threaded her arms around his strong neck, powerless
to resist him, to deny them both what they so desperately wanted.

 
          
He
fell back onto the blanket, drawing her down on top of him. He whispered erotic
words of love against her lips, her neck, across the heaving swells of her
bosom. She gasped, her back bowing into him, her lips straining toward his.

 
          
His
kiss was demanding more, and she clung to him, burning for his touch, his
possession, demanding the same.

 
          
Distantly
she heard the birds in the trees. Felt the warm sea-tinged breeze sweep over
them. Then a foreign sound intruded. Loud. Jarring. Breaking the mood.

 
          
“Damn,”
he said as he pulled his phone from his pocket and glared at the display. But
she knew what it was before he spoke. Knew and resented that her career had
intruded on their privacy. “Your next session starts in less than an hour. We’d
better catch the next ferry or you will be late.”

 
          
Two
hours later Leila was running on pure adrenaline and willpower. The
photographer had struggled to find just the right mix of sunlight and breeze to
capture his effect and that had cost time. But the monotony of doing the shoot
over and over was draining and, despite a liberal coating of sunscreen, Leila’s
skin felt uncomfortably hot.

 
          
Even
Rafael looked weary with his dark sunglasses shielding his eyes and his
stark-white shirt snapping in the increasing wind. He hadn’t said a word the
entire time, but his body language bellowed his arrogant vigilance of her with
his rigid posture and crossed arms.

 
          
That
made his presence as unnerving as it was welcome, for while she appreciated his
support, she hated that he stood like a guard over her. Just one cross look had
some of the crew taking a wide berth of him.

 
          
“That’s
a wrap for today,” the photographer finally said. “We’ve lost the light.”

 
          
And
she was fast losing her stamina.

 
          
The
wind and sun had left her feeling baked. Her legs trembled and her knees were
weak from holding a pose for so long. Her face ached from holding a sultry
look.

 
          
But
once she’d got over the annoyance of having her private time with Rafael
ruined, she’d channeled her energy to the job at hand. In truth she did enjoy
working with this photographer, for the emotions he could coax from her were
always cutting edge.

 
          
Right
now those feelings came across easily, for her nerves were still humming with
the memory of their amorous picnic on Île Sainte-Marguerite.

 
          
She
longed to return to their suite and finish what they’d started in that secluded
cove, even though it wouldn’t be long enough. The premiere of
Bare Souls
was tonight, followed by another
lavish party by the client on board another yacht.

 
          
As
the model for that scent, she had to be there. She had to be “on,” pretending
that all was perfect in her career and her marriage.

 
          
“Fabulous
shoot, Leila. You are always a pleasure to work with,” Siobhan said. “The white
bikini you’re wearing and accompanying wrap are compliments of the designer.”

 
          
“Please
thank them for me,” Leila said.

 
          
She
accepted the floral cover-up the assistant handed her and quickly donned it.
Like most of the clothes given her, she’d donate it to the charity auction she
sponsored, with the money going to fund educations for impoverished young girls
in Brazil.

 
          
“Tomorrow’s
shoot is in a vineyard near Nice,” Siobhan said. “The limo will be waiting for
you in the morning.”

 
          
She
managed a nod and mumbled her thanks. If she stayed up late tonight, she’d be
dragging in the morning. That was a laugh! She was exhausted now.

 
          
Leila
wet her dry lips and took a dizzying step toward the cabana, her thoughts
spinning as wildly as the lights strung between the tents. The intensity of the
sun seemed far more brutal even though the temperatures were on the warm
pleasant side now.

 
          
Her
legs trembled with each step, as if she was moving in slow motion. Not so for
Rafael.

 
          
He
came toward her with surprising speed. “Leila, what’s wrong?”

 
          
She
blinked, but the yellow and black spots continued to dance in front of her
eyes. “I don’t know.”

 
          
“Maldição!”
Strong arms swept her up and
carried her inside the cool confines of the cabana.

 
          
She
felt him lower her onto the plush cushions, felt the breeze whisper over her
body as the punishing glare of the sun was blotted out.

 
          
Something
cool was pressed to her forehead, her throat, and she moaned her pleasure. She
forced open her eyes, blinking rapidly as the blur of colors slowly cleared.

 
          
A
moment of uncertainty hit her before she remembered what had happened. She’d
fainted. She
never
fainted.

 
          
To
do so was too close to the collapse she’d had as a teenager when her body had
refused to continue down the destructive course she’d taken.

 
          
Her
vision narrowed, focusing on Rafael alone. The stark worry striking bold lines
around his eyes and mouth scared her more than her bout of dizziness.

 
          
“I’m
fine,” she said, and made to rise.

 
          
He
pressed her shoulders back on the chaise. “You are
not
fine,
querida.”

 
          
He
was right. She was tired. Exhausted. And the festival was just getting under
way.

 
          
“Excuse
me,” a stocky man said gruffly as he pushed his way through the crew gathered
on the perimeter. “I am Dr. Dubois. How are you feeling?”

 
          
“Tired,”
she said, as he opened a small black case.

 
          
“Hmm.”
He pressed a stethoscope to her chest, listening, his features bland. “Have you
been hydrating yourself?”

 
          
“Yes,”
she said. “But this session was longer than most and the sun was brutal.”

 
          
The
doctor gave her a superficial exam. “You should relax and get some more fluids
in you. If the dizziness persists, see a doctor immediately. Oui?”

 
          
“Yes,
we will,” Rafael said.

 
          
“I
will be fine,” she insisted twenty
minutes later, more for her benefit than his when they returned to their suite.

 
          
“I
know you will because I am going to be there to make sure you drink and eat and
take care of yourself,” he said, looking every inch the arrogant, demanding
male.

 
          
She
hiked her chin up in challenge, refusing to relinquish control of her life,
especially when it came to what she ate and drank. “Do you intend to forgo your
plans to shadow me?”

 
          
“If
I must.”

 
          
Such
arrogance!

 
          
She
kicked off her slings and dropped onto the sofa, hoping she projected an aura
of elegant relaxation instead of exhaustion. “I just need to take it easy and I’ll
be fine.”

 
          
He
looked at her carefully, his early amorous mood vanishing. “You need to relax
for a day at least, likely more.”

 
          
“This
isn’t a vacation for us,” she said.

 
          
“What
if it were?”

 
          
Her
head snapped up, her heart skipping a beat on its own. Them on vacation?
Together? Like they’d been on the island?

 
          
The
temptation to lounge and make love and do nothing but enjoy each other like
they had in the early days of their marriage was oh so enticing. So terrifying
too, for her own love for her husband gave him the upper hand. And Rafael could
be so persuasive when he set his mind to it.

 
          
Still,
she found herself asking, “Where would you want to go on this vacation?”

 
          
“Someplace
without phones, without crowds, without distractions.” His hot gaze slid down
her torso and took a slow caressing glide back to meet her eyes. “Someplace
were we could be alone to do whatever we wanted whenever the mood struck.”

 
          
Her
breath caught at that, for there had been many times of late when the same idea
had seemed so enticing. The escape she needed—yet she didn’t kid herself into
thinking she’d get a lot of rest if Rafael was with her! Just thinking back to
their picnic today proved how they’d likely spend their time.

 
          
And wouldn’t that be a dream come true, to
have him alone without distractions, without plans encroaching on their idyll?

 
          
“You’d
grow bored without your gadgets,” she said, struggling for a light tone.

 
          
“Not
if you were there with me,” he said. “I want my wife back in my life full-time.”

 
          
The
thought was so tempting. To be Rafael’s wife and lover as she longed to be. To
go to sleep each night in his arms. To wake with him beside her each morning.

 
          
Yet
he’d made it clear that he wanted more. “You want a child. You want me to give
up my career to be a mother.”

 
          
His
gaze caught and held hers. “There was a time when we both dreamed of the day we’d
have a family. Were those lies to appease me at the time?”

 
          
“No,
it’s not that at all.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, her eyes
suddenly burning with tears, her heart aching for what she’d lost. What she
could still lose.

 
          
Tell him! Trust him to understand!

 
          
“My
God, I want to have your baby more than anything,” she said, her voice cracking
with emotion now. “But I’m afraid, Rafael. I’m afraid I’ll suffer another
miscarriage, or worse.”

 
          
Rafael
froze, his mind taking in her words, processing her admission. Leila had been
pregnant before? She’d lost their baby? And what the hell did she mean by
worse? What could be worse than losing their baby?

 
          
“Leila,
you were pregnant?” he asked, gripping her upper arms and jolting when she
nearly collapsed against his chest.

 
          
He
folded her in his arms, absorbing her tremors. She was scaring the hell out of
him now, for this wasn’t like her. This wasn’t the Leila that was always in
control.

 
          
“I—I
didn’t kn-know, Rafael,” she said between gulping sobs, her tears soaking his
shirtfront and burning his skin. “I’m s-so sorry. So sorry.”

 
          
He
pinched his eyes shut and held her, stunned to know they’d conceived once. That
the baby he had wanted so much had been created and lost.

 
          
No,
that
they’d
lost this precious life,
for it was clear Leila was just as heartbroken as he.

 
          
A
thousand questions bombarded him, but he could only force one from his
constricted throat. A question that he was sure he knew the answer to, for he
hadn’t touched her this past year until their quick rendezvous in March. “When
did this happen?” he asked. She said nothing for the longest time until her
sobs gradually eased. Until the tremors that racked her lessened to occasional
shivers. “September,” she said.