The Dreaming Of... Collection. Оливия Гейтс
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Isabella Da Costa, who’d been his loyal PA for the past four years.
Whenever she encouraged him, her father reiterated that he was a one-woman man, and he’d lost that woman. And every time she pointed out that twenty years was too long to be alone, he insisted he wasn’t alone. He had her. So she made sure he didn’t, at least half of the time. Knowing how dependent he was on her for companionship, she hoped it would force him to look for it elsewhere.
But even though she’d been making headway, almost getting him to admit his attraction to Isabella, he kept insisting it wouldn’t be fair to a woman to give her less than the whole heart he’d given her mother. But she knew Isabella would settle for any corner of his heart, and she was certain that once he left the door to his heart ajar, his smitten PA would take it over completely. He was the most loving man on earth and in time he’d give his all to the woman who loved him.
So here she was, staying out of his way, hoping he’d get it on with Isabella. She wasn’t giving up hope. And neither was Isabella.
But up until last night, she’d always felt she was the older one, dealing with an emotionally ambivalent youngster. Being untouched by passion until then had made her coolly cerebral as she sat in judgment, giving sage advice.
Then Rafael had happened.
Now everything she knew about herself and the world had been rewritten, giving her true empathy for her father’s turmoil. If only she hadn’t had to gain that insight at such a steep price.
Leaning on the door after she closed it, she looked around the foyer. She’d miss this place. But she’d leave right away. Without telling her father. Once back in San Francisco, she’d explain everything, and that there was no point in him staying in Brazil any longer. Rafael wouldn’t give him even the minor business he’d promised her when he’d been having fun at her expense. She’d known mixing sex and business would end badly. She just hadn’t thought it would go that bad, that soon.
Exhaling dejectedly, she took off her belt purse as she entered the living room...and almost keeled over in shock.
Rafael was sitting in the middle of the floral couch, his jacket discarded, his T-shirt stretched tautly over his massive chest. From the way his muscled arms were spread over the back of the couch, and those long, powerful legs were stretched out on the coffee table, he looked as if he’d been there for hours.
“How...?”
That was all she could say before she slumped against the wall, not knowing how she remained standing.
He answered her aborted question. “I ran. I took shortcuts that ensured I’d arrive long before your taxi.”
“You ran?” she choked. “You’re not even out of breath.”
“I’m in very, very good shape.”
He could say this again. Her gaze slid hungrily over his body before it faltered, stopped then slammed up back to his as she burst out, “How did you enter my apartment?”
“My background in crime is very, very handy.”
So that had been true. He’d once been a gang member...or worse. Which did explain that lethal edge to him. She wondered how deadly he had been. Or still was. She also wondered why she wasn’t in the least afraid of him. His presence here didn’t frighten or even alarm her. It just annoyed her. And if she was totally truthful...thrilled her.
But then he just had to exist to do that. Even now...
Exasperated with herself more than him, she harrumphed. “That’s all you have to say? You used your criminal creds to con your way past the concierge, then to pick my locks?”
He inclined his head in utmost tranquility. “Yes.”
“Well, marathon man, you can run out the same way you ran in. I have nothing more to say to you.”
He spread himself out even more comfortably. “But I have something to say to you. I realized I missed telling you the one relevant thing—why I walked away.”
She teetered away from the wall’s support but found her legs were still rubbery. “You found a woman that appealed to you more.”
“As I said before, no woman has or will ever appeal to me more than you....”
“Oh, please.”
He heaved up from his deceptively relaxed pose and in three endless strides was, like last night, plastering her against the wall. “That’s all I aim to do—all I will do—please you. And pleasure you and cater to your every need.”
“Rafael...”
He clamped his mouth over hers, swallowed her gasp and plunged deep. Delight went off like fireworks through every nerve ending as his hard length impacted her, as his tongue thrust into her recesses, all mental faculties shutting down.
It was he who finally raised his head, cradling hers in the crook of his arm, his eyes endless silvered twilights.
Then he took her hand, lying limply over his chest, and guided it down. Her gaze followed, her whole body lurching as he placed it over the huge hardness tenting his pants.
“You feel this? See it? That was how obviously turned on I was as I took you into the ballroom last night.”
She hadn’t noticed, because she’d been too busy looking for her father. But she did remember how his arousal had remained blatantly apparent through the more relaxed suit pants all the time in his study.
“I didn’t care who saw it. But not even finding myself faced with your father...deflated me. I didn’t want to get introduced to a man I’ll work with in that state—especially when said man happens to be your father. I didn’t know how to handle it so I walked away. It was immature and tactless, but once it was done, I didn’t know how to undo it.” His lips hovered over hers and his breath singed her face. “I waited for you to come to me, so you’d advise me how to fix my faux pas. But you didn’t.”
“So you left with another woman.” She moaned as he bent his knees to thrust against the junction of her thighs.
“I didn’t. When she steered me outside I just kept going until I went back to our place. I thought you’d rejoin me. When you didn’t, I thought you’d gotten angry and left and thought it was just as well. If you’d come back, I would have taken you right there and then. Ever since, I’ve been investigating you.”
She finally ducked out of the prison of his seduction. “I thought my details didn’t matter.”
“They didn’t, until I had to find you. But I learned so much more about you being in your home.”
Embarrassment suddenly struck her at having this immaculate entity in her messy abode. “It’s a rental. But it sure must be a novelty for you, being in a packrat’s place.”
His lips crooked in a smile of such indulgence. “You are a collector, aren’t you? But since this isn’t one of your permanent homes, it means you travel with your mementos.”
“Yeah, I unpack them first thing and have them covering every available surface and hanging on every wall as soon as I get anywhere I intend to stay longer than a month. And tidy is something no one could accuse me of being....”
He covered the distance she’d put between them, pulling her back into his arms. “I love your mess. I’ve had painstaking order my whole life. Anywhere I lived was minimalist. I do everything according to sparse equations. Then I entered your home and it was as if a warm breeze swept over me, dispelling the cold I carry within me. Everything here tells a meticulously detailed story of who you are, who you love, what matters to you. And it’s just exquisite. Like you.”
The barrage of beauty spilling from him had her dissolving in his arms. “God, where did you learn to...talk that way?”
“I never did. It just comes out of me when I’m with you. And I need you to be as spontaneous