Ruthless Tycoon, Innocent Wife Read online

  ‘I’ll see how things work out.’ It was a lie. She had no intention of socialising with Andrew Steed more than was necessary. Not that she had anything against him personally now she had met him, although she still wasn’t happy at his interpretation of why her mother had chosen her father over him. But perhaps that was more Rafe’s view of the past rather than his father’s? She would have to ask Andrew some time how he felt but that would be a good way into the future when she knew him better. If she got to know him better. Which she didn’t really want to do because that would mean there was more likelihood of running into Rafe when he was over here visiting his father.

  Her thoughts causing her head to whirl, she turned her attention back to the brochures. She wasn’t going to let Rafe Steed dominate her mind, she was determined about that, she told herself firmly. And once this ridiculous ‘thank you’ meal was over she would make sure nothing similar happened again. Business lunches were one thing. Nights out on the town were something else.

  What are you afraid of?

  The thought came out of nowhere, as clear in her head as if someone had spoken out loud. Now she was no longer seeing the shiny leaflets and colour schemes in front of her, her eyes inward-looking.

  Him. Rafe. I’m afraid of him. Not in a physical sense, because even in their few brief encounters he’d proven he was a man who was dangerously accomplished in the art of making love but who would stop the moment his partner gave the signal. No, it was a lot more subtle than that. For the first time in her life she had met a man who could potentially break her heart.

  And then she caught at this last thought, telling herself she was being silly. You had to love someone for them to break your heart and she did not love Rafe. She was sexually attracted to him but that was entirely different. She was just at sixes and sevens with herself over the loss of her parents and the huge changes in her life, that was all. She wasn’t her normal logical, calm self. That was why thoughts of Rafe pierced her mind at the oddest moments and why she had a burning interest in who his wife had been, what she’d looked like, how they had met, what had finished the relationship.

  Freudian theory would probably state that her brain was using Rafe as a diversion away from her grief. She smiled to herself. She could just imagine how Rafe would react if he was informed he was being used as a diversion for any reason whatsoever. Maybe she could do with a dose of psychoanalysis, grief counselling, call it what you would. Or perhaps she should simply buckle down to the job in front of her and put all her energies into that.

  She nodded mentally. Yes, she liked that better than the thought of spilling out to a stranger. She had plenty of hard work and long days in front of her and that was exactly what she needed. At the end of this project, when she and Crystal were installed in their new flat and Seacrest was up and running as a successful hotel, Rafe Steed would barely feature on her horizon.

  Rafe was very much on her horizon two nights later when she opened the door in answer to his knock. A taxi was gently purring away on the drive and Andrew raised a hand to her from the back seat, but all her attention was taken up with the tall dark man in the dinner jacket standing in front of her. Rafe looked…There weren’t adequate words to describe how he looked, she told herself numbly, but if what he had could be bottled and sold it would make a fortune.

  ‘Hi, there, all ready?’ he murmured in his smoky American drawl. ‘I can tell the cab to wait a while if you like.’

  ‘No need.’ She smiled brightly, as though her legs hadn’t turned to jelly. ‘Crystal is just checking everything’s turned off in the kitchen. It’s a ritual she does every time she leaves the house, although, to my knowledge, she has never left anything on by mistake in the last thirty-odd years.’

  ‘There’s always a first time,’ said Crystal, coming up behind her, looking plump and pretty in a demure below-the-knee blue cocktail dress. Rafe was taking them to a very exclusive and expensive restaurant situated on the sea front in the next town ten miles away, where the small dance floor collected the rich and famous. The ocean-going yachts and boats moored in the floodlit harbour were always a sight in themselves. Needless to say, neither woman had been before but they had heard plenty about the clientele and not least the inordinately extravagant prices from the locals. It was definitely the sort of place for those fortunate individuals for whom money was no object.

  ‘May I say every man is going to be green with envy when Dad and I walk in with you two on our arms,’ Rafe said softly, his gaze moving over both women in turn.

  ‘Thank you.’ As Crystal echoed her thanks, too, Marianne was vitally aware of the forbidden turmoil inside her and eternally thankful Rafe couldn’t read her mind. She was excited about this evening—who wouldn’t be if they were being whisked off to the most sought-after establishment in Cornwall?—but dreading it, too. She wanted this one evening spent in his company in such wonderful surroundings with all her being, and yet she was terrified of it. But at least she felt she could hold her own with any other woman present. One of the female doctors at the hospital in London with whom she had been friendly had had the good fortune to have a sister who worked for one of the big fashion houses and—the two of them being a slender size eight—had been generous with any unwanted offerings. The draped and gathered copper cocktail dress strewn with pearls looked the part, there was no doubt about that, and she would even have paid the exorbitant cost it could have demanded for the boost of self-confidence in her appearance the beautiful gown had given her tonight.

  Andrew had moved into the front seat of the taxi while the car had been parked, and when Marianne found herself between Crystal and Rafe in the back seat she tried very hard to ignore the feel of his hard thigh pressed against hers. It was difficult. Impossible, actually. She had never been so painfully aware of another human being’s body in the whole of her life, and it was doubly ignominious that Rafe seemed totally unaffected in return. He chatted away easily, often leaning forward to make eye contact with Crystal and giving both women equal attention.

  She could feel his strength and warmth through her thin dress every time he moved, and when he spread his arms along the back of the seat, his long legs stretched out in front of him, her senses went into hyperdrive. Her imagination running rampant, she was eternally thankful when the magnificent restaurant—a spectacle of chrome and glass and extravagant lighting—came into view. She had been able to make a pretence of joining in the conversation with some degree of normality—a private victory no one would appreciate but herself.

  Rafe helped both women out of the car and then, as Crystal naturally paired with Andrew to walk in, Rafe took her hand and tucked it through his arm. ‘You look like a million dollars,’ he said softly. ‘That colour suits you, you should wear it more often.’

  ‘Thank you.’ It was too soft, trembling. Terrified he would sense how she was feeling, she added more firmly, ‘Have you been here before?’

  ‘Once,’ he murmured as they followed Andrew and Crystal into the glittering surroundings.

  With Victoria? The dart of something hot caused her to mentally check her thoughts. Rafe could come here with whomever he pleased; he was a free agent, for goodness’ sake.

  And then she felt ashamed of jumping to conclusions when he added blandly, ‘I was looking at a house in the area for Dad before the Haywards’ property became available and called here for lunch. I promised myself I’d come back one evening and see the sun set in the bay. One of the waiters was telling me it’s a magnificent sight.’ He smiled, a sexy quirk of his firm lips. ‘Of course, I thought it would be Dad and I on our own rather than having two beautiful women as our companions.’

  Reeling from his smile, Marianne could only manage one of her own in response. And then she nearly died when he pulled her to a stop, the others a little way in front now, and turned her to face him within the relaxed circle of his arms. ‘I want to say this now and it might help you to relax a little because you aren’t, are you? Relaxed, I mean. And I
can understand that. When we first met, I confess I was guilty of something I abhor in others—of prejudging someone. I’d decided you were…Well, something different from what you are. It doesn’t excuse my behaviour, but I just want you to know I’d like us to be friends and not only because it will make things easier businesswise. I admire the way you’ve turned your life round without a word of self-pity and without collapsing under the pressure. OK?’

  She stared at him. Her addled brain had taken in the gist of what he was saying but the word friends had stood out. It was a nice apology for the way he had treated her initially, she thought, and now she had got to know him a little she knew he wouldn’t have voiced it unless he’d really meant it, but at the same time he was making the point that it was friendship and nothing else he was offering. She made a Herculean effort at normality and said with admirable composure, ‘I can understand how you were feeling, Rafe. Finding out about your father’s reason for leaving England must have been a shock. I found it difficult enough when you told me. Let’s forget about everything thus far, shall we? And, yes, I’d like to be friends, even though I suspect we’ll have to agree to disagree about certain things because we are very different people. But that doesn’t matter with friends.’

  He opened his mouth to say something but, before he could speak, Andrew’s voice bellowed irritably, ‘Come on, you two.’

  Using Rafe’s father as an excuse, Marianne seized the moment to slip out of Rafe’s light hold and when she reached the other couple she slipped her arm through Crystal’s, saying brightly, ‘Rafe was just saying the sun sets in the bay. I hope we have a good view of it in the restaurant.’

  They did. In fact, their table was perfect, along with everything else.

  It was round about the dessert stage that Marianne realised she was thoroughly enjoying herself—unexpected in the circumstances. The four of them got on extremely well—easy talk and easy laughter—and, although she still felt there was a hint of something else hanging in the air when her glance met Rafe’s, she told herself it was only her sinful imagination. He had clearly decided theirs was strictly a platonic relationship, a business friendship, nothing more. And that was good. Of course it was. Anything more would have been impossible.

  Music was playing, courtesy of a small band, and couples were drifting on and off the dance floor. Andrew was looking tired and for that reason both women diplomatically said they would prefer to sit and watch the sunset rather than dance when asked. At the end of what had been a superb meal, coffee and brandy arrived, accompanied by handmade chocolates. It was after this that Rafe stood up and drew Marianne to her feet, taking her completely by surprise. Glancing at the other two, he said coolly, ‘I’m going to show Marianne the view of the harbour from the terrace. We won’t be long.’

  Marianne’s mind was racing. She was in a cleft stick here. If she refused to accompany him, it would be embarrassing for everyone, but the thought of wandering along the landscaped terraces outside the hotel in the moonlight with Rafe filled her with trepidation. But why? she asked herself in the next instant. He had been clear about how he viewed her this evening; she had nothing to fear from him.

  But everything to fear from herself. She didn’t try to fight the truth. She wanted him. She had been physically attracted to men in the past—she wouldn’t have accepted even a first date with someone if not—but she hadn’t known what sheer animal arousal was until she had set eyes on Rafe Steed. There was something about his flagrant brand of masculinity that was all the more dangerous for its casual unconsciousness. He was what he was, he didn’t have to try, and what he was was devastating.

  ‘Marianne?’ Rafe prompted silkily.

  She became aware that Crystal and Andrew were looking at her and quickly pulled herself together. There were plenty of people outside; some folk were enjoying their coffee at the tables and chairs scattered under the stars, others were doing what Rafe had suggested and wandering along the terraces overlooking the brightly lit harbour. It wasn’t as if they were going to be alone.

  Once outside, Rafe took her hand and, like several times before, his height and broad-shouldered leanness made her feel fragile and feminine. They didn’t speak as they strolled in the darkness scented by borders of flowers specially chosen to give out their rich perfume when night fell, but Marianne felt a trembling deep inside which no amount of silent self-disgust would refute.

  ‘You’re cold.’

  To her horror she realised he’d detected her shivering and only the fact he had put it down to the cool salty breeze from the harbour prevented her from sinking through the floor. The next moment he had slipped off his jacket and put it round her slim shoulders, the scent and warmth from his body immediately encompassing her in a sensual blanket.

  Her heart threatening to jump into her throat, Marianne murmured, ‘No, please have it back,’ as she tried to hand the jacket to him. ‘You’ll be cold yourself.’

  ‘Me? Never.’ He adjusted the jacket more firmly round her shoulders. ‘I’m a very warm-blooded animal,’ he said, straight-faced.

  ‘Lucky you,’ she returned brightly, purposely ignoring the sexual innuendo. ‘I can be cold on the warmest nights. I’m probably the only person in the world who carries a hot-water bottle in their luggage on holiday, just in case.’

  The firm mouth curved. ‘A hot-water bottle?’ he murmured softly. ‘There are other ways to be warm in bed.’

  He had undone the top button of his shirt and loosened his bow-tie so it hung either side of his collar when he’d removed his jacket and it wasn’t helping her equilibrium one bit. ‘Perhaps,’ she said primly. She determinedly changed the subject by adding, ‘Some of the yachts in the harbour are truly amazing, aren’t they? Do you like sailing or water sports?’

  ‘I like all sorts of sports, Marianne.’ He pulled her to a standstill, slipping an arm round her waist as they stood together looking down into the bay.

  She knew the casual flirting was just part of the evening and normally such banter on a date was fun, but this wasn’t a date in that sense and for the life of her she didn’t know how to respond to him. Then, still gazing over the water and his voice now quiet and without amusement, he said, ‘A few days ago you asked me if I loved my wife when I married her. The truthful answer to that would be that I loved the person I thought she was, but in reality she couldn’t have been more different. From the moment we met she projected an image she thought I wanted and it worked. It worked very well. She reeled me in and I never suspected a thing.’

  Marianne barely breathed. She sensed from the way he was speaking that he rarely talked like this, if ever.

  ‘By the time I found out that Fiona didn’t confine her sexual activities to our bed alone, probably every damn person in a fifty-mile radius except me knew. It was an…informative experience.’

  Her voice barely audible, she whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was a long time ago, Marianne. It taught me plenty, so in one way I should be grateful. I paid my way out of my mistake and there were no threads like kids to complicate matters. I swore then I would never marry again.’

  She turned to face him for the first time. ‘Why are you telling me all this, Rafe?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, with such boyish bemusement it wrenched at her heartstrings. ‘I just want to…’ he paused, shaking his head ‘…make it plain how I feel, I guess. Commitment, forever, family, it isn’t for me. I’ve tried it once and once was enough. Oh, I don’t mean I’m not monogamous when I’m seeing someone, that’s something entirely different. I give and expect absolute fidelity. But when it’s time to move on I like to think friendship replaces intimacy with no hard feelings on both sides.’

  Although he had turned to face her, his features were in shadow because the lights were behind him. Was he propositioning her? Marianne asked herself dazedly. Was that it? Laying out his rules so she knew exactly where she would stand if she started a relationship with him? Which was nowhere, apparentl
y. Quelling the rising anger, she said coolly, ‘And there are women who accept those terms? Who like what is little more than an emotionless lay?’ It was crude but, in the circumstances, she felt justified.

  He stiffened. ‘A healthy friendship and respect for each other’s independence between two members of the opposite sex is hardly that.’

  ‘But—and correct me if I’m wrong here—the healthy friendship and respect scenario always includes sex?’ Marianne asked, unable to prevent the tartness from sounding in her voice.

  He stared at her, steely-eyed. ‘You are deliberately misunderstanding what I’m saying.’

  ‘On the contrary, Rafe. I think I understand you very well. We agreed a few days ago we are attracted to each other in a physical sense. This is the next step. Right?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ He watched her face as disbelief battled with anger, and he could have kicked himself. What the hell was he doing?

  Everything he’d promised himself he wouldn’t.

  ‘Good, because let me make one thing perfectly clear,’ Marianne said, ice in her crisp tone. ‘I have absolutely no intention of sleeping with you now or at any time in the future. There may well be plenty of women out there who are grateful for the privilege of having you in their bed, but I’m not one of them. OK? No one can guarantee anything when they start dating someone, I know that, but to enter a relationship with no expectations of commitment or possibility that it might be serious doesn’t fit in with who I am. Just so you know.’

  ‘Fine.’ How to kill something stone dead in one easy lesson, he told himself bitterly. He looked at her standing so tensely in front of him, her small chin tilted in a way he was coming to recognise meant indomitability, and for a moment the temptation to backtrack, to refuse everything he had just said was strong. It was enough for him to sense the sticky coils of heart involvement closing round him and it frightened him to death. His voice cold, he said, ‘I’m glad we’ve cleared the air and know where we stand. Shall we get back to the others if you’re cold?’