The Dreaming Of... Collection. Оливия Гейтс
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he replied, hoping for some last-minute perspective.
But the only perspective his brain was willing to consider was the one where this enthralling woman ended up in his bed, her voluptuous body quenching his ferocious need.
She’d shown herself a worthy opponent, and yes, he considered the insane tug and pull of attraction between them a battleground. A battle from which he would emerge the victor and walk away with everything he held dear intact.
During their intriguing exchange not once had her gaze slid from his. In fact, more than once he’d seen a spark of defiance in the blue vividness of her eyes. That spark had ignited something inside him he’d long forgotten.
It had reminded him of a carefree time when life had been less fraught.
He glanced up at the lights of his yacht. He’d deliberately not moored at the same quay as Prince Mendez because he’d wanted to avoid the avid media attention Mendez courted.
Reyes preferred privacy...solitude...silence. His mother had created enough chaos in his life when she was alive.
So what are you doing bringing a total stranger on board?
He faced Jasmine.
Her gaze immediately riveted to his and heat surged through his bloodstream. She gave a nervous smile and pulled her wrap tighter around her. He frowned at the protective gesture. The interior of the car wasn’t cold, in fact the night air blowing gently through the half-open windows was sultry. So there could be only one other reason for the telling gesture.
‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’ His statement emerged harsher than he’d intended, partly, he realised, because he didn’t want her to leave.
Her eyes widened and she wavered for a second before a curiously resolute look settled over her face. ‘No. A deal is a deal. Although I’m not sure how to go about buying you a drink when we’re boarding your boat.’
Relief made him exhale unsteadily. He signalled to his bodyguard, who opened the door. Reyes handed him the briefcase holding the treaty and held out his hand to Jasmine. ‘We’ll continue our debate on board.’
She glanced from his hand to his yacht. He held his breath. Slowly, she reached out. His grip tightened on her fingers as he stepped out of the car and helped her out. He’d taken two steps when he felt her tug at his grip.
‘Wait. I can’t do this.’
Disappointment curled through him. Reyes bit back a sharp retort as he dropped her hand. In the time since his last liaison, the world hadn’t changed, then, he mused caustically. Women continued to tease, to engage in sexual games in the hope that playing hard to get would make them seem more attractive to the opposite sex. The bitterness he’d tried to douse welled up again.
‘Save the excuses, Miss Nichols. I’m disappointed that women seem to believe creating intrigue involves mind games, but I am not willing to indulge you.’ He nodded to his driver, who stepped forward. ‘You’ll be delivered to your hotel. Enjoy the rest of your stay in Rio.’ He couldn’t stem the regret that settled gut-deep inside him. Not to mention the uncomfortable arousal that tightened his groin and made thinking straight difficult.
He turned away, wanting to be far away from her, from the temptation of her voluptuous body and seductive scent that insisted on lingering in the air around him.
‘Actually, that’s not what I want.’ She sounded hurt and a little confused. ‘I didn’t mean that I’d changed my mind about the drink.’
He whirled round. ‘Then what did you mean, Jasmine?’
An uneasy look crossed her face. ‘I told you, I don’t really like boats. But I thought I’d make an exception...just this once...’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, I’m not coming aboard wearing these shoes.’ She gestured to her feet.
Puzzled, he frowned. ‘What?’
‘My step—umm, I read somewhere that heels and boats aren’t a good combination.’ Her shrug drew his attention to the silky curve of her shoulder. ‘Of course, I don’t know what sort of flooring you have on your yacht, but I don’t want to ruin it.’
Laughter replaced Reyes’s disappointment. It rumbled through his chest, a sensation he hadn’t felt for a while.
‘My floors? You don’t want to ruin the floors on my boat?’ His incredulity grew with his words and he barely stopped himself from shaking his head.
‘No, I don’t. Plus, my feet are seriously killing me. So if you don’t mind?’ She held out her hand for him to take. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’
Caught in the surreal moment, Reyes took her hand. He felt the rough ridge of scarred tissue and looked at the thin line crossing her palm. About to ask what had caused it, he was stalled by the sight of one graceful leg, lifted, one ankle strap unbuckled before the process was repeated with the other shoe.
His gaze dropped to her feet. They were small but perfectly formed with pink tips. The sight only aroused him further, tweaked his already dangerously heightened senses.
‘Good idea,’ he murmured inanely, his voice curiously hoarse.
She nodded and fell into step beside him. ‘I think it’s only fair to warn you, though, the last time I rode a dinghy, I ended up falling overboard. I hope you’ll rescue me if that happens again?’
A smile tugged at his lips. ‘As you can see, my boat is slightly bigger than your dinghy. It’ll take a lot of effort to accidentally go overboard. But be assured, I’ll come to your aid should the worst happen.’
‘Well, if you put it that way, then I have nothing to worry about,’ she said with a smile.
Reyes smiled, feeling less burdened than he had in a long time. He took her shoes as they approached the gangplank and followed her up the stairs onto the deck and through into the large, open salon. He watched her take in her surroundings, her mouth parting to inhale sharply at the opulence that embraced her.
Reyes had seen different reactions to his yacht, some openly covetous and some hidden behind careful indifference. Jasmine’s eyes widened in something close to childlike, uninhibited awe as she took in the polished wood panels, gold ornamentation and monogrammed accessories in royal Santo Sierran blue he’d commissioned for the vessel.
‘Wow!’ She turned full circle and found him watching her. A faint blush touched her cheeks and she walked over to the large sofa and perched on the edge. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to gush.’
‘A genuine reaction is better than artificial indifference.’ He walked over to her and placed her shoes next to her.
‘Seriously? Who would be indifferent to this?’ She waved her hand around the deck.
‘People with ulterior motives they prefer to hide?’ The last female on this boat had been Anaïs. She’d been in full playing-hard-to-get mode, which had swiftly crumbled when Reyes had threatened to walk away. Of course, she’d had other aces up her sleeve. ‘In my experience, people are rarely what they seem at first blush.’
‘Oh, right.’ Jasmine’s eyes darted to his and slid away, and she seemed lost for words. Her tongue darted out to lick the corner of her lip.
Reyes’s heart beat just that little bit faster. His fingers tightened as anticipation fizzed faster through his veins.
Her skin, creamy with the barest hint of tan, glowed under the soft lights of his deck. His fingers itched to touch, to caress. But he held back.
There would be time for that later. He had no doubt he was about to indulge in something he’d never indulged in before—a one-night stand; this could be nothing more than that—but he didn’t want to rush it.
Morning would come soon enough. The treaty would be signed. He would ensure Santo Sierra’s continued economic prosperity. And he would