Moonflower (7 page)

She’d
almost convinced herself, until she stepped into the hotel lobby
and her heart started beating like an African drum. It reached
fever pitch as she spotted Reuben across what seemed like a mile of
mosaic floor. Then the traitor organ seemed to explode and melt in
her chest cavity as he looked up from the morning paper and fixed
those intense eyes on her.

For a moment neither of them moved. Sophie was stunned by the
effect the mere sight of him had on her. Later, she'd wonder
what
his
immobility
had been caused by. She braced herself for his scowl, a caustic
remark or two.

'Slept
well, I hope?' he asked, his voice soft and deep.

Sophie
took a deep breath. 'Yes. Thanks. And you?'

'Mmm.'

The sound
vibrated through her body.

As their
plane left the ground at Lanseria just before eight that morning,
Reuben let his arm brush against Sophie's. As expected, he felt the
contact all the way to his chest. A moment later, he did it again.
Just the briefest contact. He couldn't help himself any more than a
man with an addictive habit.

But this
was more than a habit. It was fast becoming an obsession. When he’d
finally got to sleep last night, his dreams had been filled with
tangled copper hair, guileless green eyes; he knew now the sound of
her soft moans, the taste of her full, moist mouth. A gangly
twenty-four year old. He glanced sideways at her profile. Still
couldn't credit it. But he couldn't ignore it, either. The way
she’d taken over his body, and now his mind, it seemed.

It had
been many years since he'd wanted anything this badly. Not since
he’d entered the world of business in his early twenties with a
burning, all-consuming desire to succeed, be the best. Had he
simply become jaded over the years, or was there something special
about Sophie Kyle?

He
wondered if she had simply come along at a time when he’d welcome a
diversion from the mild sense of dissatisfaction he’d begun to
feel. A vague sensation of restlessness. He’d achieved so much in
such a short time. Perhaps there were too few challenges left these
days. Life was laid out, predictable; even success.

Did
Sophie represent something wild and unpredictable? Was that the
attraction?

Reuben had always hated the idea of using another person's
vulnerability for personal gain. Some might think it a strange
philosophy for a ruthless businessman, but Reuben believed he was
successful precisely
because
he believed in win-win situations. And just as the
best battles were fought between enemies of near-equal strength, so
it was with affairs. Yes, he wanted Sophie, but he had to be sure
she understood the nature of the tryst because that’s all it would
be. What an affair to look forward to.

He felt
suddenly energised. Leaning towards her, he breathed in her scent
and brought his lips close to her ear. 'I can't get used to how
blue the sky is on this continent.’ He let his breath tease the
tiny hairs in her ear. He watched her body tense. ‘It really is
quite extraordinary.'

His eyes
were on her breasts as she took a deep breath, let it out, relaxed
her shoulders. ‘Best sky in the world,' she said brightly, which
made Reuben chuckle.

She
turned large green eyes to him and the corners of her mouth
twitched before transforming into a smile. A wisp of copper hair
fell across her eye. Reuben raised his hand, and, with gentle
lingering fingers, tucked it behind her ear.

Sophie
was too unsophisticated to look bashful or coquettish. She just
stared at him wide-eyed, innocence written all over her lovely
features, and Reuben felt something utterly unexpected—a wave of
tenderness that left him feeling confused and shaken.

Sophie
would like to have told Isaac and Sipho how much their high jinks
and good humour meant to her. In fact, they were doing a good job
of helping her hang onto her sanity.

Right
after she'd arrived at Labour's End, just before eleven, she'd
taken her leave of Reuben and got stuck in at the farm. She, Sipho
and Isaac had spent most of the day inspecting parameter fencing
and carrying out repairs.

It was
close to supper time when Sophie got back to her cottage. She had a
shower, donned a pair of denim shorts and a blue t-shirt, and
padded in flip-flops to the house to deliver the final game
costings she’d placed in a folder tucked beneath her arm. Although
determined to be the pin-up for professional on the outside,
internally Sophie was a bunch of jangling nerves. She had no idea
how to handle Reuben. She was convinced deep down that she did not
have what it took to resist him. Of course, she would give it her
best shot, but she knew he could easily out-play her. He was older,
far more sophisticated, and she suspected he was a master of
seduction.

None of
this would have been a problem if she hadn’t been so achingly
attracted to him. She not only had to resist the sheer power and
magnetism of the man, but her own traitor of a body, too, and the
obvious chemistry between them.

Tonight
was her first test: she’d be polite, professional. Drop off the
documents; head back to the cottage for supper and a sundowner on
the gorgeous wooden deck she planned to make the most of while she
was here.

Reuben
was relaxing in a wicker chair on the verandah, sipping something
cold and observing her progress across the lawn. Sophie had
expected him to be beavering away in his study. She refused to look
at him and lengthened her stride across the lawn, concentrating on
the beautiful flowerbeds that burst with colour. To distract
herself from the dark blue eyes, she challenged herself to come up
with the names of the flowers she saw around her—English and
Latin.

Until the
timing switches clicked on and the sprinklers kicked into action.
The first jet of water came from behind just as Sophie reached the
middle of the lawn, and whipped across her back. Taken unawares,
she leaped into the air and let out a yelp. Then they were coming
at her from all sides. Jets of water lashing her back, front,
sides. She did her best to dodge left, right, but by the time she
reached the verandah, she was soaked through.

Reuben
had placed his glass on the tiles beside his chair and was grinning
with undisguised delight. Sophie felt a blush move from her cheeks,
spread along her neck, her chest, all the way to the tips of her
toes, if that were possible. She stood dripping, holding the folder
at arm’s length to keep it from getting any wetter, until Reuben
managed to get a grip on himself.

Laughter
bubbled in her chest and she was helpless to stop it spilling from
her lips. But she stopped when she noticed that Reuben's amusement
had changed to something else entirely: desire.

He made
no attempt to keep his gaze from caressing her length and she might
have folded her arms across her sodden t-shirt that left nothing to
the imagination, but it would have done no good. His eyes touched
her lips, moved to the twin mounds of her breasts, her dripping
thighs. And something changed in Sophie. She realised she had no
wish to cover herself. Her body became languid in the warmth of his
admiring stare. She felt herself opening up to him, watching
fascinated, as his eyes moved over her with lust. Until she began
to shiver. Visibly, if Reuben's next comment was anything to go
by.

'You’re
cold.'

'All I
was trying to do was give you these.' She handed the wet folder to
him.

He took
it from her, opened it. 'The papers inside are dry. But since it
was my sprinklers that assaulted you,' the smile had returned to
his face, 'I'd like to offer you dinner as an apology.'

A picture
flashed into Sophie's mind of the last time she’d had dinner with
him; and how it had ended. 'I, ah… I’ll just go back to the
cottage. I need to change anyway, so I'll have something to eat
there.'

'No
need,' Reuben said. 'You can borrow one of my shirts. You won’t be
making a fashion statement,' he said, grinning at her in a way that
made her knees wobble, ‘but it’ll be a private dinner, and not too
much of a challenge for a woman who has the guts to wear a
tablecloth to the Crystal Court.’ He shrugged.

She
sighed. 'Tell me, Reuben, when last did someone actually refuse you
anything?'

'Yesterday,' he said, without missing a beat.

Sophie
blushed at the memory of their hot clinch, his fingers exploring
her beneath the gold dress.

‘
Come,’ Reuben said, heading for the door without bothering to
wait for an answer.

Sophie
followed him meekly inside, her blood pulsing all the way to her
soggy flip-flops. He took her straight to his bedroom. Her gaze
flew to the enormous modern beech wood four-poster, its mosquito
net floating in the breeze.

Reuben
reappeared from the dressing room with a shirt in his hands.
Another breeze wafted through the room, carrying with it the
fragrance of rose petals and wet grass, curling around her skin,
making the tiny hairs on her body stand on end.

She stood
stock-still, finding it difficult to swallow. She felt her lack of
experience keenly. Was she meant to say something? Why was she
standing here like a wet lump, waiting for him to make the next
move?

Maybe if
she took a few steps into the room, went to look out of a window,
it would break the tension. But did she want to move away from the
line of electricity that snapped and crackled across the room, back
and forth, between them? No. She wanted to feel it, and feel more
of it; the sensations creeping from her belly to her breasts, and
from the tips of nipples being chafed by her wet t-shirt, to her
tingling fingertips. It was like stepping slowly into a hot bath on
a cold day and feeling delicious heat creep through her
body.

And there
was more. Reuben circled her, coming to a stop at her back. He
reached an arm around to hand her his shirt. His arm brushed hers,
and his breath caressed the tender spot at the back of her neck.
She closed her eyes. He was so close, he must have dipped his head
towards her. His lips just millimetres from her flesh. Sophie’s
breath quickened. She wanted him now. More than anything she’d ever
wanted in her life.

There
would be consequences, but she didn’t want to think about them
now.

She
swayed slightly, like a willow caught in the first stirrings of a
storm. His lips brushed her neck, his hands sliding along her arms.
She let out a ragged breath, teetered back towards him as the storm
broke and he pulled her fiercely to him. Sophie revelled in the
feel of his hardness pressed into the soft flesh of her
buttocks.

She
twisted her head to the side as he brought up a hand to fondle her
breast, squeezing the nipple gently through her t-shirt. He was
breathing hard when he found her mouth.

‘
Mr Reuben?’

The voice
was on the other side of the bedroom door, accompanied by a
knock.

‘
Mr Reuben, you in there?’

It took
Reuben a moment to pull away. Sophie stepped quickly away from him,
pressing her hand to her chest, as if this feeble gesture could
stop her heart from popping right out of her ribcage.

‘
Yes, Beauty. What is it?’

‘
Miss Sara say dinner will be served in fifteen
minutes.’

‘
Thank you,’ he called.

'Put that
on,' he said, indicating the shirt on the floor. He brushed his
thumb over her swollen lips and, shaking his head ruefully, strode
from the room.

He was
gone, but not the effect he had on her. Sophie picked up the shirt.
Looking at the white linen in her hands, she buried her face in it,
catching the gentle spiciness of his aftershave. She felt deeply
troubled. She was not one to play around. She took every
relationship in her life seriously. Was she to become the plaything
of a tycoon who knew nothing about her life? A man to whom
everything came so easily; who had a reputation for buying up
companies, then dabbling with them before selling them off for
profit.

If she
fell for him, she would fall hard; she knew that. That was who she
was. Sophie took off her wet top and slipped into his shirt, warm
against her skin. She did this slowly, the shirt’s fragrance
invading her senses, making the tiny hairs prickle on her back and
arms. As she did the buttons up with trembling fingers, her swollen
nipples felt impossibly sensitive, the softness of the fabric
seeming to graze the tender flesh.

She made
her way on trembling legs back to the patio, wet t-shirt in
hand.

'Can I
get you something to drink?' Reuben asked, getting up from his
chair.

'A beer
would be fine,' Sophie said. It’s what she liked to drink now and
then, and she wouldn’t change who she was to impress him. She had
made this choice deliberately, guessing it was unlikely he made a
habit of dining with women whose choice of drink was a beer. And
she’d been right: Reuben looked surprised, but disappeared
inside.

Sophie
took a deep breath. When she had begun working as a
conservationist, there had been many situations, unpredictable,
dangerous even, that she’d found herself in. And she’d been
determined not to show her fear or the fact that she was
inexperienced, out of her depth. She believed it was this ability
to control her emotions that had helped her leapfrog many of her
contemporaries who’d panicked in similar situations.