The Trouble With Coco Monroe (6 page)

‘You,’ she said with utter loathing. ‘Are a tosser.’

‘Tsk, tsk, Ms Monroe. Language. Mouth. Wash. Soap.’

His eyes, dancing with sheer mischief, made him look too damned attractive for his own good and had Coco fall back on the age-old standard.

‘I hate you.’

‘I know you do.’

‘I mean it. You will never, ever, have sex with me.’

Humour now replaced mischief in eyes the colour of melted dark chocolate.

He slapped his hand over his heart, patted it twice.

‘Now you’ve broken it.’

Charismatic bastard.

He didn’t have a heart to break.

Drawn to him in spite of herself, she threw him a narrow-eyed look.

‘I have not.’

Needing to gather herself together and to make her standpoint crystal clear, Coco moved to a table with drinks, glasses, poured herself water.

The way her legs, her hands, trembled seriously annoyed her.

Served her right.

This is what happened when a woman didn’t have regular sexual release. Her whole body was suffering from nothing more than a pent-up arousal. All it had taken was a charismatic seducer to press the right button, so to speak, and she’d gone off like a rocket.

She couldn’t believe she’d actually hit him. The thought had no more entered her head and she’d acted upon it.

Now she’d admitted that he’d scared her.

She’d scared herself by the way her body responded to his.

Her breasts were swollen, the nipples too tender. And the heavy pulse low in her belly, slick between her legs, was a horrible gnawing throb of need.

He moved to sit on a low couch, leaned back, stretching out long legs.

Oh, God, she couldn’t miss his swollen erection tenting his suit trousers.

Most men she knew would be demanding her to take care of it.

Not Rafe, he just sat there looking all cool, calm and collected.

As if he wasn’t at all bothered that his shaft was reaching for the sky. She’d never been a selfish person in bed. He must be really hurting, not that she’d know it by looking at him.

Well tough, he started it so he could just sit there and suffer.

Her gaze took a leisurely stroll from the top of his polished head to his hand-made shoes and back again.

Why couldn’t she hate him?

Life would be so much easier.

Dark eyes slid from hers to his titanic erection and back again.

‘Want to kiss it better?’ he drawled.

Because she was more than tempted to do more than kiss it better, the blush rocketing up her neck, her cheeks, went nuclear.

‘You’re such a shit, Rafael.’

‘I didn’t mean to take it so far, so fast. I have no excuse except that I simply couldn’t help myself.’

She wanted to kick him.

She wanted to kiss him.

In the end she did neither.

She smiled and stared dead into his eyes.

The Devil entered her heart, sang through her veins.

‘I don’t want you. And then I do want you. I enjoy sex,’ she told him honestly.

Dark eyes danced into hers.

The way he grinned tempted her to toss the water in his face.

‘There’s news. So do I,’ he responded in a smart-ass tone.

He was making fun of her, but she couldn’t help but be charmed by his sense of humour.

‘I find you... attractive,’ she muttered into her glass, hoping to hell admitting she found him irresistible excused her behaviour.

When he caught her eye his eyelashes fluttered in a way that made her bite down hard on her top lip.

‘You’re not being serious, Rafael.’

‘It’s hard when you’ve just stopped my heart with that kiss and by the way you fell apart in my arms. Then told me we’re not having sex but you’re attracted to me. Mixed messages, baby.’

The kiss had stopped his heart?

Coco took a sip of water to lubricate a suddenly dry mouth, trying to gather her scattered wits.

‘You work for my father. And that will make life difficult, sticky, once I’ve had sex with you.’

Now dark brows flew into his hairline.

The way his eyes sparkled into hers made the ache low in her belly throb even harder.

‘What makes you think having sex with me once will be enough?’

She blinked.

Was he dense?

‘Because once would have to be enough. Because if my father or God forbid my brothers get wind of...’ She stopped. The way he was looking at her with that dead on too intense stare made her lose her train of thought. She simply focused hard on his face. What was it about this man that drew her to him like a damned magnet?

‘What?’ he demanded. ‘Why are you staring at me like that?’

‘We’re having a senseless conversation,’ she said with something like a snap. ‘And I’m wondering what it is about you that I find so appealing... I love your jaw.’

Stunned, he cracked a laugh, shook his head.

‘Coco, you’re bloody amazing. Why my jaw?’

‘It’s got that dimple in it and it’s a strong jaw. A jaw with integrity. I like it.’

He bit his lip.

And all the while dark eyes twinkled into hers.

‘And yet,’ he drawled. ‘In spite of my strong manly jaw, no nookie for poor me.’

This time she grinned.

‘According to something I read recently, you’re not short of choice if you want nookie. I’m still not having sex with you.’

His brows met over the something she’d read part, but he shrugged.

‘True. I rotate them every twenty-four hours,’ he said dryly. Then waited until she’d finished rolling her eyes. ‘I’m not going to have sex with you either. Wanna know why?’

Blink.

Blink.

He’d shocked her.

Good.

And he had her full attention.

Ten years ago the young Coco had been the most amazing force of nature. All eyes, with a big open personality and a smile that would have been seen from outer space. She’d been so real, so open and honest with no guile. And he’d fallen hard for her. Ten years on and no matter how hard he’d tried nothing had changed.

She was footloose and fancy free and so was he.

He’d nothing to lose by taking her, making her his.

But not yet.

Now those violet eyes narrowed into his.

‘You’re gorgeous,’ he told her. ‘The way you look at me, as if you can’t decide whether to kiss or kill me, gets me every time. I find it incredibly sexy. But I’m not going to have sex with you because...’ He paused for three beats. ‘You need to heal.’

And right on cue her chin tilted.

‘I’m absolutely fine.’

‘No. You’re not. Physically and emotionally you’re too delicate, too vulnerable. I’m a protector, always have been, always will be. So that means your fragility is pressing all my buttons.’

With an over-dramatised sigh, he gave her wide eyes.

‘I’m a guy. Which means if a beautiful woman kisses me the way you did, believe me I can be up for sex anytime. But usually I like to have dinner, talk, find common ground, get to know her. You know, normal stuff like that.’

Now that delectable mouth pouted in a way that made him want to kiss her. ‘But, you do know me.’

He could tell by the way she frowned and bit her top lip that the lack of logic in their discussion, how it had turned on her, had struck home.

Now he slowly shook his head.

‘Baby, you haven’t spoken a civil word to me in years. We’ve got sidetracked. Taking you to bed is not why you’re here.’

Coco didn’t know how to respond to the lethal combination of the jerk of her pulse, the liquid flutter of arousal deep in her belly and bitter disillusionment.

Stupid.

She was so stupid to believe he actually cared about her.

When would she ever learn not to challenge this man?

All he’d done was to show her who was in control, who was the boss.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

Now he straightened, leaned his elbows on his knees.

His eyes never left hers.

‘Just call me the peacemaker.’

So dear daddy had sent him to build bridges, had he?

Typical.

If he told Rafe to jump, Rafe would ask how high.

Why couldn’t she be attracted to a person who had enough character with enough backbone to be his own man?

Battling with deep sense of bitter disappointment in him, in herself, Coco wondered why the hell she was surprised.

Sinking to the edge of a chair, she sipped her water.

‘Between my father and you I’m being driven crazy.’

‘What do you want, Coco?’

‘Independence,’ she shot back. ‘Look it up. It means liberty, freedom, self-determination.’

‘I know what it means. Unfortunately, just at this moment, you can’t have it.’

She knew he was right. Even understood the reasoning behind it, but that didn’t mean she had to put up with him poking his nose into her business.

‘Did you wheedle an invitation to this wedding?’

His cheeks went red.

Gotcha.

‘I might have.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ve no protection. The place is crawling with paps, long lenses. Your father was concerned. I’m concerned. End of.’

‘So I’m a part of your job description?’

That lethal smile flashed.

‘If you like.’

‘I don’t like,’ she snapped.

‘You didn’t bring a date.’

What the hell did that have to do with anything?

‘I brought Louise. You didn’t bring a date.’

‘I’m working. I never mix business with pleasure.’

How the hell did that make sense when he’d just kissed her senseless and played her body like a violin?

‘You’re a walking cliché, Rafael.’

And in more ways than one.

Tall dark and handsome could have been invented to describe the son-of-a-bitch.

His response was a small curve of that amazing mouth.

‘Don’t you find it boring baby sitting me?’

That smile went wide.

‘No man in his right mind would find you boring, doll face. Fishing for compliments?’

Deciding not to lower herself to his level, Coco took a very deep breath.

‘Do you really believe that cornering me at my friend’s wedding was a clever idea, Rafael?’

‘You haven’t left us with a lot of choice.’

‘Us?’

‘Your father, your brother. And me. You can’t resign in a fit of pique. There are commitments to be honoured. You’re the face of the cosmetic line. Promotions have been lined up for weeks, months ahead. How is storming out of a meeting proving that you’re mature enough for a seat on the board?’

He was right.

Bastard.

In some ways, she regretted the way she’d handled it. A better idea might have been to let the dust settle and then calmly, and with dignity, resigned. In other ways she didn’t regret a damn thing. What about her father’s commitment to her? If she tried to explain herself, that she had a road map for her future and what that plan was, Rafe would never believe her. She’d covered her tracks too well.

However, plans were in place, actions taken.

She refused to change course now.

Getting Rafe off her back was key to the success of her long-term plans. And there was only way to do that, to hit him where it hurt, in his pride and in his ego.

Ignoring the jumpy nerves in her belly, Coco straightened her spine.

Her eyes met his.

She permitted her utter contempt for him as her father’s stooge to be crystal clear in her eyes and in her voice.

‘I will honour any commitments for the length of a months notice as per the terms of my contract, which means there are three weeks left. I don’t need protection and I’m not changing my mind. You can tell the organ grinder that his pet monkey failed.’

The silence in the room was so loud she could have heard a butterfly breathe.

The way those dark eyes narrowed into icy slits, the way those fantastic cheekbones flushed told her she’d hit the bulls eye.

Very slowly, like a big black panther, Rafe stood.

His hands bunched into fists at his side.

How long he simply stood there and stared into her eyes, Coco had no idea but even though shame that she’d deliberately wounded him made her feel physically sick she would not back down.

Rafe simply turned and walked out.

The door snicked closed behind him.

Coco blew out a long, shaky breath.

She’d just burnt every single bridge with Rafael Cavendish.

Chapter Six

Three days later, Coco was of the opinion that being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country seriously sucked.

For example take today’s tabloid headline,
‘Soap star and Coco in secret sex romp.’

Dating the soap star in question for three short weeks over a year ago had been a rare blunder. He’d slipped right under her sleaze ball detector. Coco always admitted her mistakes. And for the record, he’d never got past first base. The publicity had given him a short boost to his career and kept her father happy because she was in the headlines. All publicity was good publicity for the Monroe brand.

The sleaze ball had received a notice from her lawyers and was blaming the newspaper and the newspaper was blaming him. Yada, yada, yada.

The woman who wrote the piece was a queen bitch. Since Coco considered being a bitch was a personality flaw rather than a capital offense, it didn’t stop the warm fuzzy feeling in her belly knowing that Ms Tabitha Crew’s editor and publisher of the newspaper were even now receiving a kicking from her father’s legal team.

A retraction and apology would be printed tomorrow, on page three, and a sum would be paid to the charity of Ms Monroe’s choice, which was better than nothing. On the whole Coco considered she’d got off lightly. It could have been worse, much worse. It could have been three in a bed with her face photo-shopped on a nubile, and naked, torso.

But it sucked, because now Ms Crew would be looking for any excuse to get her own back. Tit-for-tat was the name of the fame game.

Coco had had six months of relative peace and tranquillity. Okay, six weeks of that had been spent in hospital fighting a lingering infection and recuperating. But hey, every cloud had a silver lining.