Page 28 of Emergency Engagement

‘Heisgetting over his wife’s death,’ Rafael said gently. ‘Maybe the shiniest toy in the toy box is just what he needs for his recovery. Besides, it’s a symbiotic relationship.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Victoria likes his money and he likes being seen with her on his arm.’

‘Rich men—they’re all the same.’

‘Tut-tut, Sammy. That sounds a lot like a generalisation.’

‘Does it?’ She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him. ‘I’m thinking thatyourtrack record is along those lines!—beautiful women hanging onto you and you having fun with them even though you’re not in it for their minds? Honestly, I just don’t get women sometimes.’

Rafael was still grinning. ‘You’re very fetching when you’re standing on your soap box. Has anyone ever told you that?’

‘Actually, no.’ But she could feel herself tumbling into his dark gaze. She drew in a sharp breath when he raised one finger to trail it along her cheek, finally outlining her mouth and letting his finger linger there for a few seconds. Her eyes widened and everything in her body suddenly began to disobey the rules. Her nipples tightened against the thin cotton of her dress. She was so flat that she could easily do without a bra, and she wasn’t wearing one now. A spreading dampness between her legs made her want to rub them together. Her pulse was racing.

‘There’s no need for that,’ she managed to say breathlessly as his finger continued to linger on her face.

‘Oh, yes,’ Rafael apologised in a voice that sounded far from apologetic. ‘I didn’t realise that there’s just two of us here. Everyone else has made it to the dining room. We’d better race there or else they’ll be wondering where we are—maybe thinking that the love birds decided to dump the dinner and just do the sex.’

‘Don’t say that!’

‘Just a little joke, Sammy. No need to get ruffled about it. You’re as red as a beetroot.’

‘Yes, well, it pays to remember that this is...isa charade.It’s not real! We just do...that kind of stuff when other people are around.’

Rafael had obediently lowered his hand but there was coolness where his finger had been and Sammy hated herself for wishing that it was still caressing her cheek and setting her body aflame in the process.

Dump the dinner and just do the sex...

The throwaway remark sent her imagination whirling into frantic overdrive. She spun round on her heels and began walking briskly towards the dining room.

She justknewthat he was still grinning as he followed her. Could the man see what was going through her head? Did he know the effect he had on her with those casual, meaningless touches?

She sincerely hoped not. Sammy knew the kind of guy he was. He was a rich man who snapped his fingers and had any woman he wanted come running at speed to do his bidding until he got bored with them. He would call that a generalisation but there was more than just a grain of truth in it—more than severalthousandgrains of truth in it. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was anything like all those other women—floored by his charm, bewitched by his wit and intelligence and turned on by his stupid good looks.

She forced herself to remember him as a teenager, bunking off school and leading her brother astray—much safer. But as they hit the dining room, which was abuzz with everyone peering at the seating plan, laughing and chatting, he caught up with her. She felt the weight of his arm around her waist as he pulled her back against him and lowered his head to breathe in her newly washed hair.

‘This is one of those times, Sammy,’ he murmured, and she twisted so that she was looking up at him with a puzzled frown.

‘One ofwhattimes?’

‘I can’t have my beautiful partner looking as though we’ve just had an argument. We need to be married at least a year for that. So, my darling...’ He kissed her softly, sweetly and briefly, and that soft, sweet, brief kiss knocked her senseless.

Her head was all over the place as they drew apart but it was ages before she could really focus on what was going on around her: the praise for the food she’d made; the questions about the market and what the fresh produce had been like; her plans for the place she wanted to open when she and Rafael returned to England. The champagne continued to flow, and she knew that she was smiling and chatting and answering questions, but all she could think of was Rafael: the way he made her feel and the stupidity offeelingthe way he made her feel.

She even forgot about Victoria, though her not-so-dulcet tones seemed to dominate whatever conversation was happening at the other end of the long, rectangular table.

Between courses, Sammy excused herself so that she could supervise the next array of dishes to be served. She’d had just two glasses of champagne, and her head was in a very sober place when she re-entered the dining room to announce her dessert, only to be pre-empted by Victoria; she had gone from tipsy to word-slurring over the course of the evening.

Sammy shot Rafael a panicked glance as the towering blonde rose unsteadily to her feet and tapped her spoon on her champagne flute until everyone fell into bemused silence.

He gestured to Sammy to come and take her empty seat, and Sammy duly went to sit next to him. She was immediately reassured by the mere fact of him sitting next to her. Something about the warmth and rock-solid self-assurance he emanated made her feel as though, whatever happened, he would be able to sort it out.

Desserts were now being served as the room waited for Victoria to speak with Jemima and another assistant, Trisha, placing delicate bowls of tropical fruit salad and soursop ice-cream in front of everyone.

Victoria looked around imperiously, swaying slightly. Next to her, Clement was frowning with a hint of disapproving impatience.

‘What’s going on, Rafael?’ Sammy snapped under her breath.

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