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Because she was forbidden?
His smile fell. And he cursed himself anew.
Rising to his feet, he put on a robe and left the well-kept bedroom. He went out to the veranda. He looked down at the garden and the Bosphorus beyond. In a short time, she’d turned this neglected mansion into an exquisite home.
His hands gripped the wrought-iron balcony railing. And now, because of his lust, he would lose her—his most prized employee!
He glanced back at the beautiful woman sleeping in his bed. He had to find a way to return to a simple relationship of boss and employee. But he wasn’t sure he could.
From the moment he’d first interviewed her in Paris for the head housekeeper position, he’d been intrigued by her—this pretty young woman who went to some lengths to appear plain, wearing black cat’s-eye glasses and oversize, unflattering clothes, pulling her chestnut hair back into a tight bun from which no tendril could hope to escape. She’d left her first position in the household of a financier in Miami, at a very good rate of pay, because apparently she wished to see Europe.
“You will be allowed no vacations,” he’d told her at that first interview. “I need a house manager who will have no other desires other than to smoothly and perfectly run my home.”
He’d waited for Miss Louisa Grey, a modern young woman, to tell him he was out of his mind with such expectations and to leave his office; instead, she’d just looked up at him with her cool brown eyes.
“Of course.”
“I don’t think you understand,” he’d said evenly. “You won’t be able to leave. Not for vacations. Not for Christmas. And do not think I will eventually transfer you to New York. I like stability in my home life. If you start in Paris you will stay here.”
“Fine,” she’d repeated, frowning up at him with her brow furrowed.
“Fine?” he barked.
“I do not need to go back home.”
He’d lifted his eyebrows in disbelief. “Never?”
“Correct. For…for reasons of my own which I do not care to explain.” She lifted her chin. “I will do excellent work for you, Mr. Cruz.”
And she had.
Efficient, dedicated Miss Grey had never taken a day off. Never asked for a vacation. Never complained. She’d never asked for a transfer.
Until he’d seduced her.
For the first few years she’d been his housekeeper, she’d acted as if she could barely distinguish Rafael from an intemperate child to be tolerated and tended. Gradually he’d taken it as a challenge. He’d coaxed her out of her shell in the evenings, as he’d eaten a late supper in the kitchen. He’d gradually lured Louisa’s warm heart out from beneath her dignified reserve. It had been an amusement. Even—a friendship.
Until he’d seduced her.
He cursed himself again under his breath.
She wasn’t just his valued housekeeper, she was the extremely competent manager who coordinated between all his homes in New York, St. Barts, Buenos Aires, Istanbul and Tokyo.
And this would be the end of it. Qué fastidio! Now that he’d slept with her twice, it would end badly—as it always did. She would cease to be sensible, useful Miss Grey and become a woman without a shred of reason in her head. She’d be clingy to her fingertips.
Or would she?
Louisa Grey, clingy? The thought was almost laughable. She was so different from all other women. Was it possible, then, that their affair could be different as well?
He still wanted her. Was it possible she could be that legendary creature—a reasonable woman—and they could continue their affair until he was satisfied? Could they enjoy the passion of a love affair—then simply return to their regular lives that were already so convenient and perfect, as employer and employee?
He ached for her as he did for no other woman. A few days and he’d certainly be done with her. That’s how all of his affairs ended. If he could just enjoy her in his bed for just a few more days…
“Good morning,” he heard her say behind him.
He turned to face her and sucked in his breath.
Louisa stood on the veranda wearing his white oversize robe. The pink sunrise dawning over the minarets of the east brought such beauty to her face. Her smile was quiet and resolute.
He’d never seen anyone more beautiful, with so much sweetness and dignity. She was the most intriguing woman he’d ever met. No woman came close, he realized. Even now, remembering how he’d taken her the night before, he was throbbing with need for her. He wanted to lift her up in his arms, drag her back into his bedroom and throw her on the bed. He wanted to take her again and again, fast and hard, until he’d had his fill.
“Come away with me,” he said abruptly.
She laughed playfully, looking around the Ottoman mansion and the incredible view of the Bosphorus. “To get away from all this?”
He frowned, trying to think. He had a hard time thinking straight when she was smiling like that. He remembered suddenly an offer made by an acquaintance selling him real estate in Paris. Xerxes Novros was a coldhearted bastard but the man had offered the use of his island. “Greece?” he suggested.
She saw he was serious and blinked. Then she shook her head. “Your dinner party is in two days.”
“Knowing you, the arrangements are already completed.”
She took a deep breath. “But still…”
“I am done with Istanbul,” he said harshly. “After the party, I intend to put this house up for sale. I am done here.” His dark eyes looked down into hers. “But not done with you.”
“I should go.” Her voice was small. Unhappy.
“Go?”
“Work for someone else.”
He stared at her, dumbfounded. Then his eyebrows lowered. “You can’t,” he said in a low voice. “I need you.”
“What you mean to say is that you like having me work for you. That you find it convenient.”
“Yes,” he said gruffly. “I do. And it is. I see no reason why that should stop.”
She gave a low, bitter laugh. “No. Why would you?”
He placed his hands persuasively on her shoulders. “Mira! So we’ve fallen into bed. I’ve been through this many times. A few days together, and we’ll come back and no longer feel this way. Our lives can return to normal. I promise you.”
She looked at him, her brown eyes so deep and tender, and for a moment he thought he convinced her. Then she shook her head. “Sure, that is how it works. For you. Your mistresses have nervous breakdowns.”
“Not you. You would never be like that, Louisa,” he said. “You have far too much dignity. Too much sense. That’s what I love most about you.” He gave her a sudden wicked grin. “Along with your luscious body.”
She stared at him for a moment. Then she turned her head, staring off at the Bosphorus, flooded with the brilliant pink light of sunrise.
He took her hands in his own, looking down at her.
“Forget I’m your boss. Forget that you work for me. Take two days and go away with me. Let me pamper you in luxury where no one else knows you. Let someone else serve you for a change. Let me give you pleasure,” he whispered, stroking the bare skin of her inner wrist, “such as you’ve never known.”
He kissed her lips before she could answer. When he finally pulled away, he whispered into her ear, “Give in. You know I’m going to take you, Louisa. You know you won’t be able to resist me. You will be mine.”
You will be mine.
Louisa couldn’t breathe, she wanted him so much.
She looked into his handsome, ruthless dark gaze and knew she should tell him off—tell him in her devastatingly formal way that she was his housekeeper, nothing more, and she existed to keep his homes organized and well-staffed. To tell him that she had no feelings for him whatsoever as anything more than her boss. But when she looked into the darkness of his eyes, she could not lie.
His touch felt like fire to her.
“All right,” she said in a soft voice she almost couldn’t recognize as her own.
He pulled back, his fierce eyes searching hers. “Yes?”
“I’ll come away with you,” she whispered.
He kissed her fervently on the palm, then the back of her hand. A shiver of longing went through her, a shiver that shook her to the core.
She couldn’t deny them what they both wanted.
No matter what it cost. She would have two days—two days to be his mistress and know how it felt to be his adored lover. Two days to live on for the rest of her life, when she would love him from a distance, with a broken heart, knowing he would never love her in return.
She only prayed he was right, and that two days of pleasure would cure her of this desperate, hopeless love. She prayed it would satiate her, ending all her longing for Rafael, so she could once again enjoy the job she loved, supervising the housecleaning, managing the staff and arranging his life.
Would she really be able to watch him move on to the next woman and feel nothing? Apparently Rafael thought so. And he knew so much more about love affairs than she. She prayed he was right, and when she returned to Istanbul, she would no longer want him, that she’d no longer love him.
She would be able to take back her heart. She would no longer cry out for him in the cold loneliness of night. This two-day affair could save her.
Unless she was pregnant. Then…it was already too late.
Chapter Three
“ANOTHER iced tea, Miss Grey?”
Shading her eyes from the hot Greek sun, Louisa looked up from where she was stretched out on the poolside lounge chair. “Yes,” she said, blushing. Being served, rather than the server, still shocked her. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
The Greek servant, who was young and very handsome, handed her the cool drink in a tall glass with a flourish and a respectful, admiring bow before he departed back inside the white walls of the sprawling hillside mansion.
Sipping her drink—which was, incidentally, her third one that afternoon—Louisa stared around her for a moment with shock. She’d been on this private Greek island since yesterday morning, but she still couldn’t quite believe that she was the one relaxing, instead of the one rushing around like a madwoman trying to satisfy her employer’s wishes. Instead of cleaning and organizing, she was lazily sunning herself in a bikini as her handsome lover did laps in the infinity pool overlooking the blue Aegean Sea.
Taking another sip of her tea, Louisa set it down on the table with a happy sigh. Lifting her arms over her head in a yawn, she glanced at the white mansion behind her. It was huge and luxurious, clinging to the rocky hillside above the sea. She leaned her head back against the lounge chair cushion. The sky was a cloudless, limpid blue. Reaching for her sunglasses, she put them on and picked up her paperback novel. Holding the book over her head to block out the sun, she tried to focus on the page.
She was distracted when she saw Rafael rise from the water. As he climbed out of the pool, she couldn’t look away. His tanned skin glistened in the sun as rivulets of water poured down the hard muscles of his body, down the dark hair of his chest, disappearing beneath the small swim trunks slung low across his slim hips.
Her lips suddenly went dry.
“Are you bored, querida?” Rafael said huskily, looking at her across the pool deck.
“Yes, very,” she managed to tease him.
“Put down that book.” He walked slowly across the white stamped concrete floor. Like a lion stalking a gazelle, he never looked away from her. “If you need distraction, I will entertain you.”
“I like to read—” she protested weakly, but she could not resist as, for the third time since they’d arrived on this island, he took the book away from her. She had bought the book, a deliciously trashy novel, with high anticipation. But she had yet to finish the first paragraph. Perhaps because her life had taken a sudden turn and was full of more luxury and passion than she could have ever imagined in any fantasy.
Rafael pulled the sunglasses off her face and set them down on the table. He placed both hands on the soft white cushion around her. For a moment, he looked down at her and she was overwhelmed by anticipation, by the scent of him, by the cool feel of his wet skin against her warm body.
Then he lowered his mouth to hers.
She closed her eyes with a sigh of pleasure as he kissed her, searing her bruised lips with the magnetic force of his own. She felt his bare skin against her body, the rough dark hair of his chest pressing against her warm, naked belly. They’d already made love at least a dozen times since they’d arrived here yesterday morning, at this beautiful private island compound borrowed from one of Rafael’s wealthy tycoon friends whom she’d never met. Two days of pleasure, of being served cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, of being waited on hand and foot. Two days of nothing but admiration and adoration.
Was this what it felt like to every woman, to be a rich man’s mistress?
Or was it just because the man was Rafael, and she blossomed beneath the miracle of his full, devoted attention?
Whatever the reason, Louisa had never felt so beautiful or so desired. She’d never felt so happy. She felt like a different woman. Everyone here treated her as if she were some gorgeous young creature who deserved to be spoiled, her every whim catered to. They treated her as if luxury and admiration were her birthright, and they did it in such a convincing way that she almost was starting to believe it herself. Especially when Rafael kissed her like this…
He pulled away abruptly. His gray eyes were the color of slate, dark with need.
“You look beautiful in this bikini,” he growled. “You’d look even better without it.”
She looked up at him. Bright sunlight traced the sharp edges of his cheekbones and jawline with shadow. He was so impossibly handsome. So impossible to resist. And here, in this fantastic place, she had no reason to resist him. She wasn’t a housekeeper here.
She was Rafael’s mistress.
“I’m glad you like the bikini, since you’re the one who insisted on buying it—along with the other four.” She gave a sudden laugh. “Honestly, Rafael, how many swimsuits do you think a girl needs for a two-day vacation?”
He put his hand on the naked skin between her breasts, barely covered with small triangles of fabric. “If you’re the girl, I’d prefer none.”
He slowly undid the tie of her bikini. Pulling it off her body, he dropped the top to the floor.
She tried to cover herself with her hands. “The staff,” she whispered.
He stopped her, pulling her hands away.
“They will see nothing,” he said between kisses. “They are paid not to see.”
He cupped her breasts, then suckled each nipple beneath the bright Greek sun. Slowly he licked his way down her belly before he lazily untied the strings of her bikini bottom. The reflection of the sunlight from the pool dazzled her, causing sparkles like diamonds in her vision. Or maybe it was just the way Rafael touched her…
She closed her eyes. She felt him stroking her, as if she were a precious treasure. His desired, adored mistress. He kissed and licked down the length of her tanned belly, his skin now warm against hers. She heard him move, heard his swim trunks fall to the floor, and then he was on top of her…
For just a moment. Her world turned upside down and she opened her eyes in surprise, realizing that he was now beneath her on the lounge chair, and he’d placed her astride him. His hard erection was jutting between her naked legs.
Rafael met her eyes steadily.
She took a deep breath. Then, with some trepidation, she touched him, stroking his shaft gently. He moved beneath her fingers, expanding somehow to even greater size in her hand until she wondered how it was possible he would ever fit again inside her.
“Kiss me,” he commanded. She wondered for an instant exactly where he meant her to kiss him, then she felt him drag her shoulders up so he could plunder her mouth with his own. Below, she felt his hardness move against her soft belly, then between her legs, seeking entrance. He kissed her deeply, entwining his tongue with her own, and she involuntarily swayed her hips against him. She felt him jump beneath her, rock hard and huge. Her breasts felt heavy against his dark-haired chest, her nipples tightening to painful intensity as she swayed. The hot Greek sun beat into the naked skin of her back, against the warmth of his smooth skin.
She ached for him. Ached. But he wouldn’t take her. Though she could see how greatly he desired her, he seemed to be waiting, to be taunting her and luring her to be the one to initiate. He wanted her to be the one to take him.
With an intake of breath, she lowered herself over him, taking him a single inch inside her.
She heard him gasp—or had the sound come from her own lips?
She moved and swayed against him, wrapping tighter and lower in a circular motion, moving the tight molten core of her liquid need against his taut muscular body. With each circle, she moved lower, bringing his shaft deeper and deeper still inside her. She felt him tremble and gasp with his own need but he did not try to force the rhythm or roll her beneath him. He let her control the pace, and when she looked into his face, she could see what that cost him, how close and grimly he was hanging to the ragged edge of his desire.
She finally took him all the way inside her, all the way to the hilt, and for a moment she could not move. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him inside her, wishing she could make the moment last forever.
Then she heard the hoarse gasp of his breath and knew how she was torturing him. She smiled. She moved against him, riding him slow and deep, and the first shuddering wave almost immediately hit her. She gripped his shoulders and held on for dear life as her hips rode him harder and faster. She felt him shudder and shake and he cried out her name. Hearing his name on her lips, her own world exploded, blinding her with a million shards of light and darkness, of white sun and blue sea.
She exhaled.
When she came back to herself, she was lying on top of him. In wonder and amazement, she stared down at her pale hand splayed across his dark-haired chest. Though she’d been sunning herself all day, her skin was still pale and fair compared to his darkly tanned olive hue. Both his strong arms were still wrapped possessively around her body, holding her against him. Rafael’s eyes were closed as he slept, a smile of amazed joy still tracing his sensual mouth.
She loved him.
Staring at him, she could not deny it. Deny it? She gloried in it.
She loved him.
Then as she stared at his beautiful face, her smile faded.
She still hadn’t taken the test.
With an intake of breath, she lowered her head back against his bare chest, closing her eyes. She hadn’t had a single moment alone, and there wasn’t exactly a twenty-four-hour drugstore on this island. There was nothing here except the sprawling mansion…and tennis courts…and two pools…and stables…and a vineyard. This entire island was nothing but a rich man’s fantasy.
Tomorrow, they would return to Istanbul. She would cease being Rafael’s cosseted mistress, and return to being his plain, efficient housekeeper. She would serve the guests at his dinner party, then begin preparations to assist the real estate agent in the sale of the house Louisa had created with such love. That she’d created for him.
With her cheek pressed against the rough dark hair of his muscular chest, she stared out blindly at the shimmering blue sea beneath the swimming pool. She’d just started to feel at home in Istanbul. But now, just like Paris—just like Miami—the rug was being pulled out from beneath her.
When would she finally have a home of her own, a home no one could ever take from her?
Louisa blinked fast, staring out at the bright blue sea blending into eternity with the endless blue sky. Memories raced through her, memories she’d tried to avoid for five years. Memories of Matthias…and Katie. I’m sorry, Louisa. I never meant to get pregnant.
Would she ever have enough distance in space and time that her past would no longer haunt her?
She felt Rafael’s hand brush against her cheek. She looked up at him.
“What is it, Louisa?” he said softly. His gray eyes seared her, searching her soul. “What are you thinking about?”
With an intake of breath, she looked away. She hadn’t told him about her past. She hadn’t spoken of it to anyone.
Five years ago, she’d been stabbed to the heart by the two people she loved most in the world. She’d fled the United States for a fresh start. She’d changed her bright, formfitting clothes to plain, serviceable gray ones, boxy, shapeless suits. She’d lost her appetite. She’d lost weight. She’d started wearing glasses instead of contacts and pulled her brown hair back in a tight bun. She’d done everything she could do to make sure no man would ever notice her again.
She found a new job in Paris. She hadn’t feared to work for Rafael. She knew she would be safe from any playboy’s charms. She’d worked constantly, literally lived at her workplace, and hadn’t taken a vacation—not so much as a single Saturday off.
She’d tried not to love Rafael. She’d tried. But somehow, he’d snuck past all her defenses…
Rafael’s hand stroked her cheek. “You won’t answer. You never answer,” he said softly. “Someday you will.” He looked down at her. “Someday, you will tell me everything.”
But as he pulled her once more into his arms beneath the bright Greek sun, Louisa knew she would never tell him about the last man she’d fallen in love with. Her last boss. At least, she’d thought it was love at the time. She’d been so young then, so young and naive…
Thinking of the pain in her past, she looked at her future and was very, very afraid.
“Do you like this place?” he said softly, twisting a tendril of her hair around his finger.
She looked at him.
“So much that maybe I should get a job here,” she said, only half-joking. “Does your friend who owns this island need a housekeeper? What is his name?”
Rafael glowered at her. Irritation emanated off him in waves.
“He is not a kind man. Especially where women are concerned.”
She’d been trying to lighten the mood, but it seemed to have failed miserably. Why was he taking her comment so seriously? Lifting herself on one elbow, Louisa reached up to rub his shoulder. “The same could be said about you,” she teased.
His jaw clenched. “Yes,” he said shortly. “It could.”
Was it possible he was jealous? No, surely not! “You know I’m not serious, Rafael!”
“I do not care for such jokes of you mentioning other men,” he said stiffly. “You belong to me.”
She stopped rubbing his shoulder. She looked at him. “I belong to you?”
He shook his head. “You know what I meant. You are a valued member of my staff. You—”
“No,” she interrupted. She pulled back her hand, sitting up. Suddenly she was so furious she couldn’t think straight. “You had it right the first time. You think I belong to you. That you own me. That I’m your possession.” So much for imagining herself to be his adored mistress! “You think I have no feelings.” She slapped down on the nearby table. “Like this!”
“Do not be dramatic. I pay you well. There is no question of you being my possession. You stay in my employ because you appreciate your situation.”
“And now?” She looked around them at the luxurious place that had suddenly lost its glamour. “Am I working for you now?”
He ground his teeth. “No. You know you are not!”
“Then who am I to you?”
“Here, you are my mistress. Beyond this island, you are the best servant on my staff. You oversee all of my homes, coordinating with the other housekeepers. I could not manage without you.”
He might as well have slapped her across the face.
“Perhaps it really is time for me to move on,” she said slowly, feeling numb. Why did she feel so betrayed, when she’d known all along how this would end?
“No,” he said furiously. “You won’t go work for him—or any other man. You belong to—with,” he corrected himself as he caught her glare, “me.”
His hands grasped her naked waist in the bright sunlight. She looked down into his gray eyes. His face was dark, almost savage. She could hear the hoarseness of his breath. Their eyes locked.
His fingers tightened on her almost painfully.
Then he reached up and kissed her.
His kiss was hard and deep, a plundering of her mouth, as if he’d held something back for far too long, as if the master had himself been enslaved by an unwilling passion he could no longer control. His kiss abruptly became more persuasive, wistful and sensual in a way she could not resist. She wrapped her arms around his neck as, with a low growl, he pulled her back against his naked body on the lounge chair. She could feel how he already wanted her again.
“You belong to me,” he whispered. “Say it.”
“Never,” she said.
But her defiance only seemed to increase the force of his passion. He made love to her again beneath the hot Greek sun, hard and fast and with a brutality that matched her own passionate desire.
“You’re the only woman I trust,” he said in a low voice afterward, caressing her cheek as he looked down at her cradled in his arms. “The only woman I’ve trusted in a long, long time.”
But as he held her and closed his eyes, dozing in the sun, tears streaked unheeded down Louisa’s sunburned cheeks.
She was well and truly caught.
She had to face it. Though she knew it was nothing more than a fantasy, though she knew it was foolish, stupid and dangerous, she could no more stop loving him than stop breathing. No two-day idyll would cure her of loving Rafael.
She did belong to him. Completely.
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