The Trouble With Coco Monroe (22 page)

Poor baby.

‘Yes. I need it finished on time and within budget. Then I can sell part of it or rent it out. I haven’t decided yet. I need to secure Boo’s future.’

At the mention of her baby, he couldn’t help but smile. The kid was gorgeous.

‘You’re doing a magnificent job with her, Jan. She’s happy, contented and thriving. You should be very proud.’

She blinked when he called her
Jan
but for the first time she gave him a genuine smile in return.

‘She’s the love of my life. I’m blessed to have her.’ Then her brow creased. ‘Will you consider staying on as my architect?’

‘As long as we keep it strictly business. Agreed?’

He’d shocked her and was certain he saw a hint of regret as well as relief in those big blue eyes.

But she held out her hand.

He took it and felt the tremble and wondered what the hell he was doing.

Why couldn’t he simply walk away?

‘Agreed,’ she said.

After she’d signed the drawings and he’d signed his copies, she left.

As Josh watched her car rattle its way down the drive he made a promise to himself to move on from whatever it was he felt for her.

She was damaged goods and wanted to be left alone.

And that was okay.

He was a big boy.

He’d taken plenty of hard knocks before and bounced back.

So he’d bounce back from this one.

But as he picked up the phone to pass on the information to the project manager and the work crews that the plans had been approved and work could begin, he wondered if seeing her day in day out for the foreseeable future was the smartest thing he’d ever done or the most stupid.

Chapter Twenty Five

Meanwhile, sitting on Coco’s bed Rafe read the note again and sipped the cup of black coffee he’d brought her as an icebreaker.

She’d gone hiking?

He’d put good money on it the only hiking she’d ever done was through the shoe shops in Bond Street or Rodeo Drive.

From what he’d seen in her incredible closet, Coco had more pairs of shoes than the entire cast of Riverdance.

Their cottage was at least three miles from Ludlow Hall.

And as usual, Coco Monroe ignored the rules set down by him, Nico and Jacob.

Although Kandinsky was a genuine threat she wasn’t in any immediate danger. She didn’t have access to the Internet or a cell phone, so he had no worries there.

Still sipping, he scanned the room.

Where would she have gone?

With absolutely no conscience he searched through her suitcase and rummaged around her things. A couple of bikinis were tossed on the bed, so he could assume she’d taken swimwear. Temptation whispered in his ear to feel, to touch the silky fabric of her panties, her bra and he ordered himself to get a grip. And felt a quiet pride in himself that he’d avoided temptation as he rose and studied the room.

No backpack.

In the bathroom he found an empty suntan lotion box in the trash.

No apple cores, so she must have taken the apples from last night with her. No empty water bottles either, which meant she’d planned this manoeuvre to avoid him.

At least she had the common sense to take supplies. So where would a woman go with a swimsuit, suntan lotion, water and food? A woman who enjoyed the sun?

The swimming pool at the back of the annexe.

Rafe grinned as he shook his head, how predictable. The thought of seeing Coco in a swimsuit or if he was very lucky a bikini laid out on a lounger did wonderful things to his libido.

But he couldn’t touch her, not until he’d confessed.

And from what he’d heard this morning it looked as if the police were closing in on the Russian.

Feeling better with himself he had no doubts at all that he could make Coco realise that he’d had her safety at heart. After all it had been for her own good. The girl simply couldn’t be trusted to look after herself.

Rafe owed Charles Monroe and his late wife Maria, big time. If it hadn’t been for them and Ethan, Bruce and Wallace, he’d have had a very different life. His mother had died in a car accident when he’d been ten. And his devastated father had died broken hearted six years later. The Monroes, including little Coco, had welcomed him into their home. He owed them his life.

After university he’d joined the military to find a sense of family, of belonging. He’d gone through Special Forces training, including water, desert, arctic and urban tactics.

However, his real talent lay in communications and technology.

When Charles Monroe had approached him with an offer he couldn’t refuse to join Monroe Industries, he’d leapt at the chance to give something back to the man who’d given him a safe haven when he’d needed it most.

But buried deep in a place he refused to acknowledge Rafe still wondered when his bad genes would show up.

His late mother had been a society darling, a party girl cast adrift by hedonistic parents. She’d had no business having a child in the first place since she’d absolutely no idea how to be a mother.

His later father, God bless him, had been born into a family with a sense of entitlement. His parenting skills had been equally lax and he’d found solace from his wife’s affairs in the bottom of a bottle.

In Rafe’s mind, Coco’s behaviour mirrored that of his mother, which was why he’d always given her such a hard time.

And that had been unfair of him.

He realised now just how much he’d misjudged her.

Her attempt to seduce him on the night of her eighteenth birthday had scared the hell out of him.

Christ, he’d nearly rammed himself into her, he’d wanted her so badly.

The overwhelming attraction he felt for Coco was something he’d always regarded as toxic. Too strong and too addictive it made him weak at the knees. Just like his father’s love for his mother had weakened him, and that was totally unacceptable.

Except this time he was mature enough to accept the situation and he’d make damned sure his feelings for Coco did not turn him into a pathetic pussy of a man.

He tucked essentials into a pack of his own, including food, a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

He might need them to smooth the path to redemption.

Since it was downhill all the way, it took less time on the return journey for Coco to arrive at the swimming pool deck outside their cabin.

An icy calm settled over her as a rough plan came together in her mind.

She’d need to wing it and rely on her wits, nothing new there then.

A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that by not having sex with her Rafe had behaved honourably. That he’d been motivated to behave like a caveman by the need to protect her from the Russian, but she thrust it away.

There was no excuse for his diabolical behaviour.

Why couldn’t he speak to her as an equal?

Why was she not allowed an opinion?

What about her business?

What about the desperate people who relied on her and Louise?

None of it mattered to Rafael or to her dear father.

She growled in her throat.

When she thought of how devastated she’d been, of how she’d burrowed into Rafe, clung to him for support and affection, of how guilty she’d felt, fury spiked again.

Don’t get angry.

Do
not
get angry she chanted again.

Get even.

After she’d tucked the satellite phone between large rocks behind the cottage, she strolled through the gardens to the swimming pool.

A hot wind tugged her hair as she spread out a towel on a vast lounger.

Might as well make the most of the unexpected break.

When was the last time she’d simply relaxed and sunbathed?

She stripped, slipped on a tiny white bikini.

Then slathered dry oil over the skin she could reach and lay down with a sigh.

Basking in the hot rays soaking into her skin, into weary bones, Coco permitted her mind to drift.

Of course it was all about control.

Her father and Rafe were cut from the same cloth.

The only way to make her biddable, docile and obedient had been to hit her where it hurt.

Then Rafe had got her all hot and bothered, unable to think clearly and he’d kept her off balance ever since.

And for that he would surely pay.

It would be interesting to see how the biter liked being bitten.

On that happy thought Coco closed her eyes.

It didn’t take Rafe long to track her down.

She lay on her back, long legs spread apart, eyes closed.

Her bikini, if he could call it that, made his heart stumble. It consisted of two white fragments of material fighting a losing battle to cover the bare necessities. He enjoyed himself for a moment admiring the small breasts and the long, lean figure. Her hipbones jutted out above the scrap of fabric. And her skin was smoothly oiled from top to toe.

A fresh six-inch scar, red and livid, ran under the armpit of her left side.

For a moment his breath caught in his throat.

The scar was a salutary reminder of the night he thought he’d lost her for good.

A night that had changed his life.

Already she’d begun to tan.

Although he noticed through his sunglasses she had a couple of spots turning pink.

Irritation that she’d allowed herself to burn made him bite his lip even as a brutal arousal flooded his system.

Rafe went with irritation, it was safer.

‘This doesn’t look like hiking to me.’

She tipped her head back.

And gave him a smile that nearly blinded him.

Sitting, she almost lost the top of her bikini.

A ruby nipple winked at him.

‘Oops,’ she said.

Oops?

He took a breath as his mind caught up with seeing her virtually naked and not only that, she was neither shy nor embarrassed about it.

His swelling erection stung as he shrugged out of his backpack and set it on the deck.

Coco tied the skinny bikini straps around her neck.

Wrapping slim arms around her drawn up knees, she eyed the parasol he dragged over, sent him a glorious smile.

Someone had got out of bed on the right side he was relieved to see.

‘Well, am I glad to see you,’ Coco told him in a cheery voice. ‘I was just thinking of heading back to the house. The wind has died down. I’m baking here.’

She sprang to her feet, bent over and pulled her lounger around to face the sun.

The scent of the sun on hot skin, along with the oil she’d used and the essence that was pure Coco spun around his heightened senses.

His mouth watered, even has his throat felt desert dry.

Turning her back to him, she bent over to adjust the towel to her satisfaction.

Her tight little bottom almost made him whine.

A couple of places on her back, her shoulders, looked pink.

He was about to place his hands on her narrow waist when he remembered the ‘no touching’ rule.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked as she folded herself gracefully to sit on her towel.

With a look that could have been a smirk, she glanced at him.

‘Sunbathing, what does it look like?’

‘Your note said you were going hiking.’

She lifted a bottle of water out of her pack, unscrewed the top and wrapped her lips around the bottle.

The totally innocent move had him catch his breath.

‘Already hiked to the top of the hills above Ludlow Hall, to the spring, had a rest and came here.’

He turned to look at the hills.

‘How long did it take?’

‘About two and a half hours.’

‘Don’t you remember what we told you about leaving the boundary of the property?’

Big eyes stared into his and he read no deceit, they were such a vivid violet that for a moment he forgot the question.

‘I didn’t leave the property. I went up into the hills. I knew I was perfectly safe. No one can get into the hiking trails without going through the Hall first.’

‘Next time I’ll go with you.’

‘Sure.’

He pulled out a towel from his pack, laid it on a lounger next to hers.

Then he stripped off his black T-shirt, boots, socks and his khaki shorts.

He wore black swimming shorts, slung low on the hips, rather than Speedos.

She propped on an elbow and openly stared at him from top to toe.

‘Wow,’ she said and took another sip of water. ‘You seriously work out, don’t you?’ The tone was totally neutral.

He shot her a look, determined to keep his eye on her face rather than on that fabulous body.

‘I’d no idea you hiked anywhere.’

Frustrated attraction made the tone harsh and he cleared his throat.

She simply smiled.

‘I got my Duke of Edinburgh Gold award in sixth form.’

Really?

That was no mean achievement. To achieve a Gold award meant five days and four nights journeying with a team in a wilderness area.

The Coco he’d known at eighteen he’d assumed wouldn’t know one end of a map from another.

‘I had no idea,’ he said in all honesty.

She stared at him with a look in her eye he couldn’t identify.

‘No, you don’t. Do you?’ she murmured.

Then she suddenly beamed another smile and knelt on the lounger.

She leaned forward and those breasts the size of ripe peaches so firm, so perky, captured his attention.

Her eyes were huge, guileless, as they held his.

‘Have you spoken to daddy?’

Guilt lurched in his gut.

‘Yes, he’s doing well.’

Her lids hooded her eyes as she bit down hard on her bottom lip.

A flush rose over her cheeks and she nodded.

She sat back, brought her knees up and hugged them tight, laid her forehead on them.

This was ridiculous he decided staring at the top of her glossy head.

He needed to tell her that her father was perfectly fine.

Struggling, he attempted to find the right words.

‘Coco, I...’

Her head whipped up and those luminous eyes beamed directly into his.