Unexpected Pleasures (19 page)

For ‘friends’ he mentally substituted the word ‘men’, but he humoured her by enquiring innocently, ‘Won’t they be wondering where you are?’

‘Not really,’ she said promptly. ‘They aren’t exactly friends. More just people I know.’

‘Like the film director?’ he suggested dulcetly.

He saw immediately that she didn’t like that question. She played with the handle of her basket and refused to look at him.

‘He isn’t important now.’

Now
what
? Now that she thought she had found a better deal?

‘But he’ll be wondering where you are?’ he persisted.

‘I told him I wasn’t interested.’

Just as the look in her eyes as she lifted her head and gazed at him told him that she was interested in him.

He stood up, about to summon one of the crew to escort her off the yacht. He was bored with St Tropez, and had already told the captain they would be leaving in the morning for Italy and the Amalfi coast. But instead, and to his own bemusement, he heard himself asking her if she wanted something to eat.

She ate quickly and hungrily, but she left the champagne he had instructed the steward to pour for her. When she had finished, he asked her if she would like to ‘freshen up’. She frowned and looked confused, before bursting out breathlessly, ‘Oh you mean you’re going to go to bed with me?’

Had he meant that? If so, her gaucheness almost made him change his mind. He was used to women sophisticated enough to understand the rules of the game and play by them. But, on the other hand, they would not have looked at him as she was doing, with open delight and eager anticipation. No doubt because she was thinking of the money she was about to earn, he derided himself.

Down below, in the owner’s suite of the yacht, he watched, leaning against the closed door to his stateroom, while she stood in the middle of the carpet and spun around, her eyes shining as she stared at the luxury surrounding her.

‘I can’t believe that this is really on a boat,’ she exclaimed.

‘It’s not,’ he corrected her dryly. ‘This is not a boat, it’s a yacht. And the bathroom is through there.’

As she started to walk towards the door he had indicated, still clutching her unwieldy straw basket, he told her impatiently, ‘You can leave your bag here.’

‘It’s got my passport in it, and my plane ticket home.’

‘Well, they’ll be perfectly safe here.’

She put the basket down on one of the stateroom’s silk-upholstered chairs, the basket’s shabbiness incongruous against the chair’s luxury.

He gave her a handful of minutes before following her into the bathroom. She was standing in the shower with her back to him. She was thin, but still shapely, with a narrow waist and softly curved hips, and long, slender legs. She had obviously washed her hair, the water making it look darker, softening the brashness of its blonde streaks. It tumbled down her back, and soap slid silkily over her naked body, caressing the smooth perfection of her skin. And then she turned around and saw him, and the slow ache that that had been building from his first sight of her suddenly ignited into hard urgency.

He could barely remember removing his own clothes, or stepping into the shower with her, but he could remember the feel of her slick wet flesh beneath his hands. He could remember too what it had done to him to see her shudder with open sensual pleasure when he cupped her breasts and then played slowly with her erect tight nipples. She hadn’t hidden anything from him, letting him feel and hear her immediate arousal in a way that had been uniquely sensual.

He hadn’t kissed her at first. He rarely kissed his lovers on the mouth unless they demanded it; for him it was an overrated pleasure. He preferred the visual erotic stimulation of sight and touch, and watching the reactions chase one another across Sasha’s face as he had stroked and caressed her naked body had been erotic. Not just her face but her whole body had registered her willingness to show him her sexual vulnerability to him. At first he had wondered if she might be faking her reaction, but he’d known that the flush of arousal staining her skin couldn’t be faked.

But what had finally shattered his own control had been the way in which she had shuddered so intensely when he’d slid his hand down over her hip and stroked his fingertips from it to her pubic bone that she might almost have been on the verge of orgasm.

Then he had kissed her. Driven to do so by something deep inside himself he hadn’t been able to ignore, a deep kiss, a possessing kiss, that had taken her mouth and held it whilst she’d shuddered and lain against him. He remembered how he had then lifted her hands to his own body, telling her thickly, ‘My turn now.’

She had looked at him with dazed, awed eyes, before eagerly starting to massage the creamy foam against his chest with trembling hands. When the water from the shower had sluiced the suds downwards she had taken him by surprise, leaning forward and kissing his throat, and then stringing kisses along his collarbone while her hands soaped lower, causing his belly to tighten in fierce anticipation.

What he had not anticipated, though, was the soft questing touch of her lips against his nipple. Just thinking about it now was enough to make his whole body stiffen with the same confusion that he had felt then.

‘I am the one who should be doing that to you.’ He had stopped her, cupping her face in his hands. In response she had said nothing, merely dropping on her knees in front of him before slowly and carefully taking him into her mouth, her action piercing him with the most intense sexual pleasure he had ever known.

He hadn’t understood the intensity of his response to her then, and he didn’t now. Something in the soft stroke of her lips, something in the way she had touched him and looked at him, had taken him to a different level of arousal. He had picked her up and carried her to the bed, and before the water had dried from her skin he had brought her to orgasm with the touch of his hand, delaying his own completion to have the erotic pleasure of witnessing hers.

CHAPTER SIX

S
HE
WASN
’
T
EVEN
going to think about Gabriel, never mind start analyzing and brooding over that disturbing interlude on the beach path, Sasha assured herself. And then immediately destroyed her own defence system by asking herself angrily why she was so afraid to call that kiss a kiss that she had to refer to it as an ‘interlude’. So Gabriel had kissed her. All that proved was exactly what she already knew—that the line she had drawn under their relationship when she had walked out on him had somehow developed a gap wide enough to allow him the power to arouse her.

She put down her hairbrush. She could see her reflection in the bedroom mirror. She was wearing the diamond earstuds that, along with the cheap plastic bangles the boys had carefully chosen and wrapped for her themselves last Christmas, were the only things that really meant something to her. Carlo had given them to her shortly after they had learned she was expecting twins. A pre-birth gift from them and their father, he had told her lovingly. She had tried to protest that at nearly two carats of flawless diamond each they were far too expensive, but Carlo had overruled her, insisting that diamond earstuds were essential for an Italian woman.

And then, when the twins had been born, both weighing in at well over eight pounds, he had told her triumphantly that to have given her anything less than two carats per earring would have been an insult to their sons.

As she shook her head at her own memories the earrings flashed white fire back at her in the mirror. She shouldn’t be sitting here, wasting time. She had an important appointment in Port Cervo before lunch. As for Gabriel—once September came and the boys were back at school she wouldn’t have to see him again for months.

But that was still nearly six weeks away, and after fewer than three days in his company she was already struggling to suppress her physical ache for him.

For him? How did she know that he was the cause of her sexual longing? She was twenty-eight and she had lived a celibate life since the twins’ conception. A celibate life as a married woman. There had been plenty of men who had made it more than plain that they would have enjoyed helping her to break her marriage vows, but she had simply not had the need. It had been burned out of her for ever. Or so she had believed. It could simply be coincidence that Gabriel’s presence was making her feel like this. Another man might have exactly the same effect on her as he did.

The trouble was, she didn’t have another man to check out that theory. Of course the other way to find out was to give in to what her body was demanding and... And what? Ask Gabriel to take her to bed? Oh, yes, he would love her to do that, wouldn’t he, and confirm his beliefs about her?

She picked up her hairbrush, but then put it down again.

She had known from his acid comments when she was with him that Gabriel’s own childhood had been an unhappy one. He had told her that his mother had abandoned him, and how his grandfather had treated him, but aside from feeling that this gave them something in common Sasha hadn’t thought to delve deeper into his past for the very simple reason that she felt so protective of her own.

She had had to work and grow through her own past before she’d had enough self-knowledge and empathy to ask Carlo more about Gabriel’s.

She had been shocked by what Carlo had told her, but while it had helped her understand why Gabriel had rejected the love she had wanted to give him, she had also recognised that it needed more than another person’s love to heal Gabriel’s emotional wounds. It needed his own love for himself. No amount of money or success could buy him that, and no one could give it to him either.

But, even knowing what did, she still couldn’t help feeling compassionate pity for the child Gabriel had been. Tears blurred her eyes now, just thinking about the neglect he had suffered—he had only been a baby, totally dependent on his mother, when she had abandoned him at her father’s insistence so that she could go back to the life she missed. But he wasn’t a helpless baby now. He was a very dangerous man, and she would be a fool not to remember that.

* * *

‘W
HERE
ARE
YOU
GOING
?
’

Sasha froze in mid-step on the stairs, her colour rising as she stared up at Gabriel, who was watching her from the landing above. She hadn’t heard the door to his suite open, and now she was standing there feeling like a naughty schoolgirl caught out in some forbidden act.

‘Why do you want to know?’ she countered.

Gabriel’s assessing gaze slid smoothly over her. She was quite obviously dressed to go out somewhere. His gaze sharpened, a feeling he didn’t want to own tightening his muscles. Why the hell should he care what she did or who she did it with? It was her sons that were his concern.

‘If you’re planning to take the boys with you—’

‘I’m not.’ Sasha stopped him. She had already arranged for Maria’s daughter Isabella to keep an eye on them for her. Isabella had two daughters of her own, about the same age as the twins, and Sasha knew she could trust her to keep them firmly in view and out of trouble or danger.

‘No, I thought not,’ Gabriel agreed. ‘So much for the doting mother act.’

Sasha could feel her temper rising. ‘I am going out on business—not that it is any business of yours—and that is why I am not taking the boys.’

‘I wouldn’t have allowed you to take them anyway,’ Gabriel told her smoothly. ‘I’ve arranged to interview a tutor for them later this afternoon, and naturally he will want to speak to them.’

Sasha opened her mouth and then closed it again as she tried to put the fiery tumult of angry objections fighting for expression inside her head into some kind of logical order.

‘You don’t have the right to forbid me to take my sons anywhere,’ she finally managed. ‘Neither do they need a tutor. They’re on holiday.’

She had seen the results of children being hot-housed by over-ambitious parents. She wanted her sons to fulfil their academic potential, of course, but she also wanted them to grow up knowing the freedoms and joys of childhood.

‘They are my wards, and as such surely even you can see that in order to fulfil my responsibilities towards them I need to know more about them.’

‘You could do that by being with them and talking to them, listening to them,’ she said scornfully. ‘They are children, Gabriel, not some new business acquisition you’ve bought. You can’t understand how they work simply by reading a report someone else has prepared. Like...like some kind of balance sheet. What will you do if your report says that they aren’t clever enough to allow you to maximise your investment? Offload them to someone else?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You always were over-emotional.’

Over-emotional! ‘You are talking about my sons,’ Sasha reminded him hotly. ‘Not some...’ She shook her head. What was the point of arguing with Gabriel like this? There weren’t the words to make him understand how she felt because he himself was so incapable of feeling anything.

‘You can’t do this, Gabriel,’ she said firmly instead. ‘I won’t let you. And what about the boys themselves? How do you think they are going to feel?’

‘You make it sound as though they are going to be subjected to some kind of torture, when in fact you have already subjected them to pretty much the same thing yourself.’

‘What?’

‘They sat an entrance exam for their preparatory school, surely?’

Sasha nibbled her bottom lip. They had, of course, and with typical male confidence they had revelled in the chance to boast to her afterwards about how clever they had been.

‘Professor Fennini is an extremely highly qualified educationalist, with many years’ experience in his field.’

Sasha gave Gabriel a blistering look. ‘You said you were interviewing a potential tutor,’ she said curtly.

‘If necessary he will tutor the boys, but naturally initially I want him to assess them.’

‘There you go again,’ Sasha exploded. ‘They are children, Gabriel.
Children
. I appreciate that you never had a proper childhood—’

‘Which is why I intend to make sure that my heirs are receiving everything they need to equip them.’

Sasha discovered that she needed to cling to the banister for support. Her heart was pounding nauseatingly fast, and the shock felt as if icy cold water had been poured into her veins

‘Your
heirs
?’ she managed to mumble. ‘What...what do you mean?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? I mean that since Carlo’s sons are my natural heirs, I would like to have some idea of how well equipped they are going to be as adults to take on that responsibility.’

The relief that surged through her was almost as physically debilitating as her fear had been.

‘So I was right. This isn’t just some tutor you’re talking about. Well, neither you nor he are going to subject my sons to any kind of psychological tests. Has it even occurred to you that they may not
want
to be involved in your business, Gabriel? There’s nothing to stop you having children of your own, you know.’

‘No, there isn’t, and that had been my intention. But it seems to me that since Carlo’s sons are already here, and related to me by blood, it makes sense for them to be my heirs. And as for psychological tests, you are letting your imagination run away with you. The professor will simply talk with them for a little while, and then I will talk with him. And there is one thing you can be sure of: my wards will
not
be packed off to a boarding school.’

Sasha could feel the despair rising inside her. But there was no way she was going to be forced into explaining her actions to Gabriel, and no way was she going to beg for his understanding and support. Suppressing her instinct to defend herself, she said instead, ‘So when is this professor supposed to be arriving?’

‘After lunch. And, contrary to what you seem to think, his assessment of them is as much for their benefit as mine.’

‘I’ll be back by then. He is not to so much as ask them a single question unless I am there,’ Sasha warned him fiercely.

She desperately needed some time to herself, to think. She still felt slightly sick and light-headed. Without another word she hurried downstairs, and then went out into the garden, where Sam and Nico were busily engaged in showing Maria’s granddaughters how good they were at standing on their heads.

‘Ayeii,
boy children!’ Maria’s daughter laughed, but her eyes were soft with approval and affection as she watched.

Boy children, indeed, Sasha agreed, before thanking Isabella for keeping an eye on them for her and making her way around to the front of the house and the small, serviceable car Carlo had bought for her use.

It wouldn’t take her long to drive into Port Cervo, the elegant resort on the Smerealda cost, with its beautiful harbour and exclusive hotels. She hoped she had dressed appropriately for the occasion. At this time of year the harbour at Port Cervo would be filled with expensive yachts, and immaculately elegant designer-clad women would be strolling its streets and shopping in its exclusive boutiques. For the purpose of her business it was important that she looked as though she was still part of that world.

Gabriel watched her leave from an upper storey window and frowned. She was wearing a taupe-coloured linen dress similar in style to the one she had been wearing the day he had arrived. A gold bracelet glinted on her wrist; large dark sunglasses with tortoiseshell frames shielded her eyes. As she slid into the driving seat of the car, he could see the natural pink gleam of her toenails in sandals that showed off the delicacy of her ankles and feet.

In the still heat of the late morning he felt as though he could almost smell the warmth of her scent. The whole house echoed subtly with it—in rooms through which she had passed and, earlier this morning, on the boys’ hair, as though she had bent to kiss their heads. It was everywhere except for the rooms he had claimed for himself.

There could be only one place she was going dressed like that. And only one reason. His mouth hardened. She could give herself to as many men as she wished—once she had repaid her debt to him.

* * *

S
ASHA
PARKED
HER
car and then made her way through the elegant streets to her destination, hesitating only momentarily outside, before pressing the bell and waiting for the door to open.

The owner of the shop himself came forward to greet her, sweeping her into an elegant private office.

‘Would you care for some coffee?’ he asked.

Sasha shook her head and opened her handbag. When she had telephoned him earlier she had explained the purpose of her visit, to save herself any potential embarrassment. From his lack of any surprise she had guessed that he had heard about Carlo’s financial problems. Placing her bag on the table in front of her, she removed the boxes she had placed so carefully inside it, opening them one by one: the necklace of diamonds and emeralds and the matching earrings Carlo had given her on their first wedding anniversary; the Cartier ring with its emerald-cut diamonds which she knew had cost over a quarter of a million euros; the huge solitaire that was her engagement ring; the yellow diamond ring surrounded by white diamonds that he had given her the Christmas before last.

Finally she reached for her diamond earstuds, and for the first time her fingers trembled.

‘How much can you give me for everything?’ she asked the jeweller quietly.

He picked up a magnifying glass and started to study each item carefully. It was over half an hour before he spoke, and when he did the amount he told her he was prepared to offer her for her jewellery made her shake with relief.

It was, she suspected, nowhere near what Carlo had paid for it, but it was still enough to put a roof over their heads, and if she was careful there should be enough to pay the boys’ school fees. They liked their school, and she didn’t want to move them if she could avoid it.