eye-wateringly bright sunshine spilling in through the window.
Even now, with her sitting at the wrought iron table on the terrace, wearing a halter-neck dress that gave her a cleavage like the Desfiladero de los Gaitanes gorge he’d abseiled down last summer and the scent that had so intoxicated him last night, he was utterly unfazed. The tiny nick he’d given his finger when she’d tasted the wine and let out a soft little sigh of appreciation and the knife he’d been using to slice off a couple of steaks had slipped didn’t hurt in the slightest.
Yes, he’d done well indeed, he told himself again as he sprinkled salt onto each of the steaks and then added a grind of pepper. Spending much of his day out in the fields among the grape-laden vines—not in an effort to avoid her or anything, of course, but because he’d needed to catch up with his estate manager—had clearly done the trick. Whatever attraction he’d felt for Nicky last night, whatever mental wobble he’d suffered, he’d most definitely conquered it, and he was well and truly back on track.
* * *
Rafael Montero really was the best looking man she’d seen in a long time, thought Nicky, lifting her glass to her mouth and watching him as he deftly flipped the steaks and seasoned the other side.
Last night and this morning she’d been on too much of an emotional roller coaster to appreciate his rugged good looks, and anyway, after grabbing a coffee he’d pretty much vanished until now so she hadn’t really thought about it. But after spending the day reading by the pool she felt more relaxed and more aware of her surroundings than she had in months, and now he was right there in front of her—and now she was looking—she could well see his appeal.
Taking a sip of wine and savouring the cool crisp flavours that rippled over her taste buds, she let her gaze drift over him with the detached appreciation of the photographer she was.
He had the kind of height and breadth that made her own five feet seven now rather gaunt frame feel unusually small, thick dark hair that was made for ruffling, and a pair of shoulders that looked strong enough to bear all manner of burdens. His back was broad and beneath the white T-shirt that stretched across it she could see his muscles flexing as he moved.
She leisurely lowered her gaze down over his waist, his very fine bottom and long tanned legs, and then let it wander back up again. There was an air of tightly controlled restraint about him, a latent strength and power, and she had a sudden memory of that body lying on top of hers, heavy and hard and strong...
Oh, what a crying shame her sex drive was all out of batteries, she thought dolefully as she watched him slowly turn round and give her a view of his front, because he really was magnificent.
If only she’d met him a year ago...
Nicky hadn’t exactly bed-hopped before she’d hit the doldrums but she’d always liked men. She’d loved the thrill of new attraction and the whole host of possibilities it opened up, in particular that of hot delicious sex with men she respected and admired but could leave without a twang of the heartstrings.
So if she’d met Rafael a year ago she’d have flirted like mad and after gauging his amenability to the idea would probably have set about seducing him into her bed.
Not so now, though, because as she completed her perusal of his spectacular body and found herself looking into that gorgeous face once again did she feel even a glimmer of a spark? A tingle of lust? A flicker of heat? No, she did not, which was depressing in the extreme because if a man like this didn’t do it for her, then who would?
Nicky stifled a sigh and lifted her glass to her lips again.
‘Have you quite finished?’
The dry tone of Rafael’s voice made her jump, and she coughed and spluttered as the wine went down the wrong way. And then she went bright red because, regardless of how she did or didn’t feel about him, it was still
Even now, with her sitting at the wrought iron table on the terrace, wearing a halter-neck dress that gave her a cleavage like the Desfiladero de los Gaitanes gorge he’d abseiled down last summer and the scent that had so intoxicated him last night, he was utterly unfazed. The tiny nick he’d given his finger when she’d tasted the wine and let out a soft little sigh of appreciation and the knife he’d been using to slice off a couple of steaks had slipped didn’t hurt in the slightest.
Yes, he’d done well indeed, he told himself again as he sprinkled salt onto each of the steaks and then added a grind of pepper. Spending much of his day out in the fields among the grape-laden vines—not in an effort to avoid her or anything, of course, but because he’d needed to catch up with his estate manager—had clearly done the trick. Whatever attraction he’d felt for Nicky last night, whatever mental wobble he’d suffered, he’d most definitely conquered it, and he was well and truly back on track.
* * *
Rafael Montero really was the best looking man she’d seen in a long time, thought Nicky, lifting her glass to her mouth and watching him as he deftly flipped the steaks and seasoned the other side.
Last night and this morning she’d been on too much of an emotional roller coaster to appreciate his rugged good looks, and anyway, after grabbing a coffee he’d pretty much vanished until now so she hadn’t really thought about it. But after spending the day reading by the pool she felt more relaxed and more aware of her surroundings than she had in months, and now he was right there in front of her—and now she was looking—she could well see his appeal.
Taking a sip of wine and savouring the cool crisp flavours that rippled over her taste buds, she let her gaze drift over him with the detached appreciation of the photographer she was.
He had the kind of height and breadth that made her own five feet seven now rather gaunt frame feel unusually small, thick dark hair that was made for ruffling, and a pair of shoulders that looked strong enough to bear all manner of burdens. His back was broad and beneath the white T-shirt that stretched across it she could see his muscles flexing as he moved.
She leisurely lowered her gaze down over his waist, his very fine bottom and long tanned legs, and then let it wander back up again. There was an air of tightly controlled restraint about him, a latent strength and power, and she had a sudden memory of that body lying on top of hers, heavy and hard and strong...
Oh, what a crying shame her sex drive was all out of batteries, she thought dolefully as she watched him slowly turn round and give her a view of his front, because he really was magnificent.
If only she’d met him a year ago...
Nicky hadn’t exactly bed-hopped before she’d hit the doldrums but she’d always liked men. She’d loved the thrill of new attraction and the whole host of possibilities it opened up, in particular that of hot delicious sex with men she respected and admired but could leave without a twang of the heartstrings.
So if she’d met Rafael a year ago she’d have flirted like mad and after gauging his amenability to the idea would probably have set about seducing him into her bed.
Not so now, though, because as she completed her perusal of his spectacular body and found herself looking into that gorgeous face once again did she feel even a glimmer of a spark? A tingle of lust? A flicker of heat? No, she did not, which was depressing in the extreme because if a man like this didn’t do it for her, then who would?
Nicky stifled a sigh and lifted her glass to her lips again.
‘Have you quite finished?’
The dry tone of Rafael’s voice made her jump, and she coughed and spluttered as the wine went down the wrong way. And then she went bright red because, regardless of how she did or didn’t feel about him, it was still
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