One More Sleepless Night (12 page)

He swore softly beneath his breath. Nicky had been ill and never mind that everything they’d done had been entirely mutual, he should have taken more care. Better still, he should have held his ground and resisted her in the first place, but there was little use in beating himself up about that again.

‘Rafael?’ she asked, the tinge of concern in her voice making him feel even worse. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Are you?’

She blinked and shot him a dazzling smile that slowly flipped his stomach. ‘Of course I am. I feel fabulous. Why do you ask?’

‘You said you hadn’t been very well.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘True, but I also said I’d recovered. As I think we’ve just admirably demonstrated.’ She frowned. ‘I hope you don’t think you hurt me or anything.’

Rafael stiffened with resolve because he’d let too much slide and he wasn’t about to let this go. ‘If you’ve been ill, can you blame me?’

There was a pause, then she set her fork down and looked at him, pinning him to the mattress with those stormy grey-blue eyes of hers. ‘OK,’ she said, linking her fingers in her lap and leaning forwards earnestly. ‘Here’s the thing. Yes, I haven’t been particularly well, but neither have I been exactly ill.’

As his once sharp but now apparently addled brain tried to work out what she meant and failed, Rafael frowned. He’d had a first class education initially at public school in England, then at Cambridge and finally at Harvard, and he’d always assumed he was pretty much bilingual, but perhaps he’d been deluding himself all these years. Perhaps somewhere along the way he’d missed the lesson on nuance, because right now he couldn’t work out what she was saying. ‘I’m afraid you’ve lost me.’

‘I nearly lost myself.’

‘How?’ he asked, now even more perplexed.

‘Burnout.’

‘Burnout?’

‘That’s right. Gaby diagnosed it a few weeks ago and I think she was right.’

The image of the Nicky he’d first met flashed though Rafael’s head. She’d been pale and gaunt. Exhausted and troubled. Tense, prickly and on edge. And enveloped by that disturbing air of desolate defeat.

All classic signs of burnout, he realised, and all of which he’d seen before. Hell, he’d even got work because of it but it had never occurred to him that that was what Nicky had been suffering from. But then he’d been so caught up in wanting her and wondering why she didn’t want him that little else
had
occurred to him.

‘What caused it?’ he said, and forced himself to focus on her instead of barrelling off down the road of self-recrimination yet again.

She tilted her head and regarded him for a moment, as if internally debating whether or not to tell him. Then she straightened as if bracing herself, and for some reason his chest tightened. ‘Remember how I told you I was a photojournalist?’

He nodded and took a deep breath to ease the pressure. ‘I looked you up on the Internet. Your work is incredible.’ Although actually incredible didn’t begin to describe it. The pictures she took were powerful, provocative, beautiful and thought-provoking. He’d read that she’d won awards and as he’d scrolled through the gallery on her website he’d been able to see why.

She beamed. ‘Thank you.’ Then she sobered. ‘Well, anyway, a year or so ago I was on assignment in the Middle East, covering a demonstration about rights for women. It was all going fine. Very peaceful and I got some excellent shots. But then some men turned up—family members of a few of the women, I found out later—and took exception. Especially to me and my camera.’

He thought he heard her voice shake a little and the pressure in his chest returned. ‘What happened then?’

Nicky sighed. ‘To be honest I don’t remember all that much about it. One minute I was taking pictures, the next I was surrounded and being jostled and pushed to the ground. But I guess eventually my instinct for survival kicked in because somehow I managed to escape and make my way back to my hotel.’

Rafael felt his jaw clench. Why on earth had she put herself in such danger? Surely no photograph was worth risking one’s life for?

‘Of course I’d had training in how to deal with things like that,’ she continued, ‘but it was the first time it had happened to me and, in all the panic, I kind of forgot everything I’d been taught.’

‘Were you badly hurt?’

‘Depends what you mean by badly. I only had a couple of broken ribs so I guess I got off pretty lightly really. My camera, however, suffered infinitely more. It was smashed to bits. Luckily, though, I’d managed to take out the memory card before they got hold of it.’

‘It must have been terrifying.’

Nicky shrugged. ‘It’s not an experience I’m particularly keen to repeat, I admit. And I’m not a huge fan of crowds.’

‘I’m not surprised. So is that what your nightmares are about?’

This time she didn’t bother pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about. ‘Pretty much.’ She added, ‘Sometimes the details vary but only slightly. Lately though they’ve been getting fuzzier and I have them far less often than I used to so that’s good. Anyway it all happened ages ago, and I’m fine about it. Really.’

Hmm. Was she? ‘So where does the burnout come in?’

Nicky blinked and gave him a rueful smile. ‘Oh, well, I was so determined to prove that what had happened hadn’t affected me that I went a bit overboard on the work front.’

‘Overboard?’

‘Put it this way. I didn’t so much get back on the horse as saddle it up and take it round the Grand National a couple of times. I started working every waking hour I had and barely stopped for breath.’

Rafael frowned. ‘Was that sustainable?’

‘No. I was hurtling from time zone to time zone so much that I had no idea whether it was morning or night. It played havoc on my sleep and eventually I just wore out. Even taking my camera out of its case ended up becoming a major task and that scared me witless because if I can’t take photos I don’t know what else there is.’ She ran a hand through her hair. ‘I think I just kind of gave up. It was so tiring treading water, I simply stopped. And once I’d done that then I really began to sink.’

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ he muttered, knowing it was an understatement but too mystified by all the stuff beginning to churn around inside him to respond with anything more sensible.

‘No, well, it wasn’t,’ she said dryly, ‘but it’s why I ended up at your house. It’s why when we met I was in a bit of a state. And it’s why when you kissed me I couldn’t respond, even though I desperately wanted to. When I told you that my lack of response to you wasn’t you but me, I meant it. Along with everything else I’d lost all interest in sex. It was like I was dead inside.’

‘But not any more.’

She grinned. ‘Not any more. And I’ve been taking pictures again. Of your vineyard. Do you mind?’

Did he mind?
God, it was the least he could offer after all she’d been through. After all he’d put her through, and not just this afternoon. ‘Of course not.’

Her smile deepened and his stomach twisted. ‘Great. Well, anyway, it turns out your sister is quite the psychiatrist because she was the one who decided a rest and a time-out to regroup was the answer and she was right. That
cortijo
of yours was exactly what I needed.’

No, what Nicky needed was looking after, Rafael decided darkly, because God, he’d thought he’d had a tough time of it lately, but, compared with what she’d been through, a merger, a handful of demanding relatives and a persistent ex were nothing. And she might act as if she was over what had happened but was she? Really?

‘So what plans do you have next?’ he asked, ignoring the little voice inside his head demanding to know where he thought he was going with this, because she might not really be over it and she might need looking after but he definitely wasn’t the sort of person who should be getting involved.

She lifted her eyebrows. ‘You mean beyond some more of that lovely restorative sex?’

‘Beyond that.’

She blinked and shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m not very good at living beyond the present.’

‘Well, I’m at a loose end... You’re at a loose end... What would you say to tying our loose ends together for a while?’

She grinned. ‘I’d say does that line really work?’

Rafael frowned because oddly enough it hadn’t been a line. ‘I have no idea. You tell me.’

TWELVE

Apparently it did because a week later Nicky was back at the
cortijo
with Rafael, and she was loving every minute of it.

And why wouldn’t she be when she was being so well attended to? she thought, feeling a sleepy satisfied smile spread across her face as she yawned and stretched gingerly so as not to wake Rafael, who was still asleep beside her.

Since they’d been back he’d been pretty much the perfect host. Not only had he made sure she was well fed and well rested, but he’d kept her entertained too. He’d taken her to the beach and taught her the basics of kite surfing. He’d driven her up into the coolness of the hills to a fabulous little restaurant overlooking a sparkling lake and fed her lobster. He’d spent an afternoon showing her round the vineyards and explaining how the
fino
she’d acquired quite a taste for was made. And then yesterday he’d asked her if she’d like to help with the harvest and they’d spent the day cutting away fat heavy bunches of grapes, until she couldn’t bear her aching back any longer and had begged him for a massage.

As for the nights—and the siestas—well, those were something else. Nicky had always thought she’d had an active and relatively adventurous sex life but sleeping with Rafael took it to a whole new level. Over and over again she hit heights she’d never reached before, experiencing pleasure she hadn’t known existed. The lavish attention he paid her body and the wild intensity with which he devoured her blew her mind every time.

She didn’t regret telling him all about her recent history one little bit. Back then, sitting on his bed in Madrid in the wake of that extraordinary afternoon, it had felt like the ideal opportunity to test her emotional strength, and it had been everything she’d hoped for.

Opening up to him had been wonderfully liberating and that feeling of relief and freedom still lingered so she’d had no problem with answering the dozens of other questions he had about what had happened. She’d happily spilled out the details he’d asked for and at some point during the last week she’d felt something shift inside her. Something heavy dissipate. And she rather thought that at last—
finally—
she seemed to be getting over what had happened to her.

How she’d ever imagined that she and Rafael had nothing in common other than Gaby and a dislike of complicated relationships Nicky would never know. Apart from being astonishingly compatible in bed, they shared a love of the outdoors and travel. Of good food and hard work. Of books and art. Intrigued, she’d interrogated him about his fascination with plants and he’d been equally curious about her unconventional upbringing.

They seemed to be able to talk, laugh and argue about virtually everything under the sun. In fact pretty much the only thing that they
hadn’t
talked about was his marriage, and it sat between them like the proverbial elephant in the room. Or at least
her
corner of the room because, while Rafael was no doubt perfectly happy to leave it alone, she was becoming quite obsessed with wanting to know all about it.

As she’d got to know him better, she’d found herself wondering what kind of husband he’d been, what his wife had been like, what kind of marriage they’d had and why it had failed. None of which she needed to know, of course, because she certainly wasn’t interested in him—or anyone else for that matter—in a matrimonial kind of way, but that didn’t stop her whiling away endless hours wondering.

And because she could never ask such intrusive questions her imagination had been working overtime. He’d be protective, she’d decided. Passionate. Loyal. And caring. Oh, he might like to make out that he was only interested in himself but that wasn’t true at all, was it? Over the last few days she’d gathered plenty of evidence that contradicted
that
claim. She’d seen it in the way he’d provided food and water and shade for the temporary workers who’d been brought in to help with the harvest. In the way he’d frogmarched the housekeeper, Ana, to her room when she’d been stoically trying to carry on her duties through a streaming summer cold.

And in the way he’d kept a distant yet watchful eye on
her
.

Not that he’d needed to keep an eye on her because she was doing fine on her own, but that didn’t stop warmth stealing through her whenever she glanced at him and caught him looking at her with what she thought might be concern and heat and something else that she was struggling to identify.

The warmth would have been worrying if she hadn’t known perfectly well that she and Rafael wouldn’t—couldn’t—last. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told him she wasn’t interested in anything long-term; now she was back to her usual self, she fully intended to resume her old life and globetrot her way across the planet in the way she knew and loved.

Besides, they’d soon be going their separate ways. Once the summer was over Rafael would head back to Madrid and work, and she’d be back in Paris and lining up work of her own. And if that didn’t sound quite as appealing as it should, well, that was just nervousness about having been out of the game for a while, nothing more.

Rafael stirred and Nicky frowned. Hmm. Maybe the fact that this thing between them would inevitably come to an end—and sooner rather than later—was something she ought to keep in the forefront of her mind. She couldn’t stay here for ever, and right now she might be having a great time but it wouldn’t do to get lulled into a false sense of security, which would be all too easy to do seeing as this last week had been so idyllic.

She should probably stop spending quite so much time in his bed, she thought, carefully disentangling herself from the sheet and shifting away from him. In it she tended to lose all sense of perspective and reality and, while it was utterly lovely, getting used to it wouldn’t do her any favours at all. Even if she wanted to, with the way she scooted around the world, living in hotel rooms and out of a suitcase, she simply couldn’t afford to get used to anything.

Barely managing to resist the temptation to flop back and wake Rafael up in the most delicious way she could think of, Nicky was in the process of swinging her legs round when a hand snapped round her wrist and stopped her in her tracks.

‘Where are you off to?’ he said sleepily.

She twisted round and glanced down at him, drinking in the rumpled hair and sexy smile, and for a moment couldn’t remember. ‘I thought I might get up.’

He rubbed his eyes, gave his head a quick shake and shifted up onto his elbow. ‘Why?’

‘Because it’s five in the afternoon.’

‘So?’ He stroked her wrist and her stomach all but disappeared.

Nicky swallowed and racked her brains for a reason to get up when there wasn’t one. ‘My feet are getting itchy,’ she said even though they’d never felt less itchy.

‘OK,’ he said, sliding his hand up her arm and making goosebumps pop up all over her skin, ‘so how about a trip into town?’

‘That sounds great.’

‘Then into town we’ll go,’ he murmured, and then pulled her down and back into his arms and gave her a kiss that frazzled her brain and made a mockery of her pathetic effort to resist him. ‘Later.’

* * *

Quite a long time later, Rafael was sitting with Nicky at a table in a square in the centre of town, toying with the stem of his wine glass and wondering if he ought to be worried about what was going on here.

There were certainly things he
should
be worried about. Work or, rather, his lack of interest in it was one, for example. Nicky’s friendship with his sister and its odd insignificance was another. Above all, he really ought to be concerned about the way that virtually anything that related to life beyond the physical and metaphorical boundaries of the vineyard simply didn’t seem to matter.

Anything related to
real
life, in fact.

What was going on with Nicky wasn’t real, he reminded himself, glancing over at her from behind his sunglasses and seeing a dreamy, wistful kind of smile curve her mouth. It couldn’t last for ever, and nor did he want it to. Never mind that she was remarkably easy to be with. Never mind that she was fascinating. And never mind that night after night she blew his mind. She’d soon be going home, as would he, and he was absolutely fine with that.

So why did the thought of this being over and of her disappearing from his life for good leave such a bitter taste in his mouth? Why did it make his stomach twist and his chest squeeze? And when had the idea of going home started to sound quite so unappealing?

Rafael’s fingers tightened around his glass and he shifted in his chair as it struck him that perhaps he wasn’t quite as happy about the temporary nature of this thing with Nicky as he’d tried to convince himself.

Come to think of it, why did it have to be temporary anyway? Why couldn’t they continue seeing each other even after they’d returned to their respective homes?

Nicky might have said she wasn’t looking for a relationship but presumably she’d meant one that tied her to one place, that compromised her freedom. But over the last week he’d come to understand and respect her sense of wanderlust and he’d never ask that of her. Besides, why would he even want to when her independence, her self-sufficiency and her commitment to her work were among the things he most liked about her?

In that respect they were perfect for each other, so what would be wrong with a hot, steamy, long-distance affair? Nothing, as far as he could work out, so perhaps he ought to suggest it and see what she had to say...

‘So what did your wife think of all this?’

Nicky’s question yanked him out of his thoughts and he froze with shock at the unexpectedness of it. His wife? She wanted to talk about his
wife
? Now?

Forcing himself not to tense up, Rafael swivelled round to look at her. She was frowning and she’d gone a little pink and he got the impression that it was a question she hadn’t intended to ask.

He wished she hadn’t because the subject of his marriage wasn’t one he cared to dwell on, but now she’d brought it up he could hardly pretend she hadn’t, however much he might want to. He supposed he was lucky to have got away without having to discuss it for this long.

But never mind. It was fine. Just because she’d asked didn’t mean he had to tell her anything other than the basic facts, did it?

‘My wife?’ he echoed.

‘Well, your ex-wife,’ she amended with a slight smile.

‘She didn’t think anything about this.’

Nicky frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘She never came down here.’

Her eyebrows shot up. ‘What, never?’

‘No,’ he said coolly. ‘I’ve only had the vineyard for five years and she was always more interested in city life anyway.’

‘What was her name?’

‘Marina.’

‘And what was she like?’

‘Blonde. Beautiful.’

‘Naturally,’ she said dryly.

‘She was also temperamental and difficult.’

Looking slightly mollified by that, Nicky sat back. ‘So what went wrong?’

Suddenly feeling as if he were sitting on knives, Rafael shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Hasn’t Gaby told you?’

‘No. She’s loyal and I didn’t like to ask.’

‘Let’s just say it didn’t work out.’

‘Yes, the divorce part of it kind of gives that away.’

He shrugged. ‘There you go, then.’

Nicky fell silent and for a moment Rafael thought with blessed relief that was that. That she’d understood that he didn’t want to talk about it, and that as far as he was concerned the topic was now closed.

But apparently it wasn’t, at least not for her, because she was lifting her sunglasses off her nose and up into her hair and giving him a look that suggested that she didn’t think him brushing over it quite so dismissively was on.

‘Is that it?’ she said, clearly not impressed. ‘Is that all I’m getting?’

‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘Not nearly.’

‘Tough.’ That was all he was prepared to divulge.

Nicky harrumphed and folded her arms over her chest. ‘Well, that doesn’t seem entirely fair, does it?’ she said eventually.

Rafael lifted an eyebrow at her indignation. ‘What doesn’t?’

‘I tell you all about the stuff that happened to me yet you get to avoid talking about what happened to you? I don’t think so.’

The urge to tense up was back but he stamped it down and pasted a bland smile to his face. ‘But the difference is that you
chose
to tell me. Willingly. And I don’t particularly like talking about my marriage.’

‘I’m sure you don’t,’ she said archly, ‘but you might find it surprisingly therapeutic. I did, after all.’

‘I don’t need therapy. I got over it years ago.’

She fixed him with another far too perceptive look. ‘Really?’ she asked with a scepticism that made him want to grind his teeth.

‘Absolutely.’

‘In that case, why the reluctance to talk about it? And why do you still have such a thing about getting involved with your sisters’ friends?’

This time Rafael couldn’t stop his jaw from clenching because as he contemplated her irritatingly shrewd questions he realised she had a point. And he, therefore, didn’t have much of a choice if he didn’t want her thinking she was right. ‘Fine,’ he said as if it didn’t bother him in the slightest. ‘What do you want to know?’

* * *

Rafael’s marriage might have been occupying her mind a lot lately, but Nicky had never had any intention of actually bringing it up.

However she’d been gazing in the direction of the wedding-goers gathering in front of the church on the other side of the square and idly wondering whether he and the beautiful but temperamental Marina had been married here or in Madrid and what the dress had looked like, when the warmth and the wine and a sheer sense of contentment had obliterated her inhibitions and the question had simply spilled out of her mouth.

Once it had there’d been little point in hoping he hadn’t heard her and even less in trying to back-pedal. And if she was being completely honest, she wouldn’t have retracted it even if she could because the curiosity had been practically killing her.