Undressed by the Boss (Mills & Boon By Request) (8 page)

‘I understand …’

‘And I understand that your parents’ job is a little unusual,’ he said in a reassuring voice. ‘So don’t feel embarrassed.’

‘I’m not …’ His hard mouth had softened fractionally, she noticed, and there was genuine warmth in his eyes.

‘Why don’t you tell me about them?’

‘I’m okay with their work,’ she admitted, hearing in her voice that she had made it sound like a lie.

‘Expand a little,’ Raffa encouraged, pouring a glass of water for her.

How much did he want to know? She had never discussed her parents’ work with anyone outside the family before. How could she, when she could never take a man home to ‘meet the family’, knowing that any boyfriend would only end up as a lab rat to be quizzed and evaluated by her sex therapist parents before being added to their latest batch of trial statistics.

‘Do you know my parents’ work?’

‘I know their work well,’ he said, as casually as if her parents ran a market garden. ‘They’re world-renowned academics; it would be hard not to.’

He wasn’t mocking her, as so many others had. He was genuinely interested, she realised.

‘I never forget we are all products of our background, to some extent, and so it’s only natural for me to be curious about your formative influences.’

‘And about whether I can talk of them without embarrassment?’ she said bluntly. ‘I’m proud of my parents’ achievements.’ She was. They had helped so many people. Except for her, of course. But it went without saying that
that
had never been on the cards.

‘So you’ve grown up in a loving family?’

‘Absolutely. My parents may seem unconventional to some people, but they always put me first and were very good role models.’

Raffa eased back, appearing to consider this. She was overheating. It was the first time she had talked so openly about
a side of her life that, for all the sex talk round the dinner table, was repressed. In spite of the casual way her parents discussed intimacy, she had never found it possible to open up. Her parents had heard it all before, she had reasoned when she was younger, and she knew it would only embarrass them to realise what a failure their daughter was in an area in which they specialised.

‘You’re very lucky,’ Raffa said. ‘Tragically, I never knew my parents.’

His manner prevented further discussion, and she respected his silence. What she had so reluctantly revealed was insignificant by comparison to what Raffa had just told her. It was so totally unexpected she sat stunned for a moment. They had both opened up—perhaps more than they had intended to. How often did that happen? Casey wondered.

‘That’s why this country means so much to me.’ Raffa’s eyes were burning with passion. ‘I am investing everything I have, everything I am, in the future of A’Qaban. I have trained my whole life for this moment.’

Raffa’s words moved her deeply and her own concerns paled into insignificance. But he didn’t need her to be ‘moved’, he needed action—and she was confident she could give him exactly what he wanted if he would give her the chance.

‘I’ll support you in any way I can,’ she assured him. ‘We’re going to make a success of this.’

Raffa stood up, preparing to leave. ‘Why do I believe you, Casey Michaels?’

‘Because I haven’t let you down yet?’ The wry tug of her lips acknowledged that she hadn’t been tested yet either. But she
would
come through for him. She savoured the moment her hand remained in Raffa’s warm, secure grip. She would run this auction for him and his charity and make it work—whatever it took.

Releasing her hand, Raffa shot a look at his no-nonsense steel watch. This was the signal that brought their informal lunch meeting to a close. There was a subtle change in him, she
thought, as if he had returned everything to a strictly business footing. Which it always had been for him, she reminded herself.

They left the club with Raffa’s security guards falling into silent formation behind them. Some people outside on the pavement braved the guards’ stern, forbidding faces to call out in support of their new young leader. As Raffa paused to acknowledge these salutations Casey thought how fine the line was between success and disaster. She had so very nearly been sent home on the next plane, and now she had been given a task that exceeded even her wildest expectations.

‘Am I walking too fast for you?’ Raffa turned to look for her.

‘No, this is just fine,’ she said, hurrying after him. Tilting her chin at a determined angle, she assured him, ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll keep up …’

Casey shivered with awareness as Raffa held the car door for her. She passed close enough to feel his energy and inhale his cologne. Her parents had told her that it would take a certain type of man to end Casey’s self-imposed chastity. And she had no doubt Raffa was that type of man. But imagining anything would happen between them was shooting for the stars, and she was certain that this wasn’t what her serious-minded parents had had in mind for her.

‘I have a question for you,’ he said as they settled in the car.

She had to shake her mind free of the illusory promise of erotic instruction at his hands and focus carefully. He would be a master of the art. Raffa had that sort of promise in his eyes.
Shake it off!

‘Yes?’

‘If you had to live in A’Qaban, Casey, could you?’

She gave him her honest thoughts. ‘I’d have to—at least until I was confident my side of the operation over here was running smoothly.’

‘But could you?’ he repeated.

She resisted the lure of Raffa’s firm, sensual lips, only to lock
in combat with his stare. ‘I’ll live anywhere I must in order to give the most to my job.’

‘Wouldn’t your parents miss you?’

‘Of course they would, and I’d miss them dreadfully—but, as they quote Kahlil Gibran to me non-stop, I’m guessing they’d be a little bit pleased for me too.’

‘Khalil Gibran? The Lebanese-American author and philosopher?’ His dark eyes lit with remembered pleasure. ‘Do you remember the quote?’

‘Of course I do.’ She smiled. ‘“You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.”’

There was a moment of stillness and then Raffa nodded his head, reminding Casey that he’d been forced by tragedy to be both bow and arrow.

As he started the engine she noticed the scar on his face for the first time. It ran from just below his eye to the corner of his mouth, and must have been the result of a serious injury. She guessed it was a legacy of his time in the Special Forces, and wondered how hard that had been for Raffa, with no family to anchor him. He had hinted at some catastrophe in his youth, and she guessed it must have denied him the love she’d known.

She was gaining in confidence all the time, Casey realised, and a lot of that was due to Raffa. It was time to remind herself that he was a king, and that she was growing far too interested in him.

Too interested? She could so very easily fall in love with a man with whom she seemed to share many of the same goals, Casey realised with a jolt, as Raffa released the brake and turned the wheel in the direction of her hotel.

Having furnished her with an inventory of the items she would have to sell, Raffa left Casey at the door to her suite.

‘And I have how long to do this?’ she said, fingering the thick sheaf of paper.

‘Forty-eight hours.’

‘Forty-eight—’ She almost choked, but remembered it was crucial to remain positive and clear-headed if she was to have a chance of doing this. ‘Forty-eight hours,’ she repeated. Her thoughts might be tumbling over each other in disarray, but there could be no excuses.

‘Sorry—duty calls,’ Raffa said, fielding a call on his phone.

Duty would always call Raffa. She knew that.

‘I’m sorry to rush away,’ he said, touching her arm lightly and leaving an electric charge in his wake. ‘We’ll finish this later.’

‘No problem. Goodbye—’ But Raffa was already on his way.

Wanting to put the idea that had occurred to her earlier into a more formal structure, Casey decided to burn the midnight oil. Late that night, having taken a shower, she changed into pyjamas and called for pizza and coffee. While she was waiting for the food to arrive, she started making notes. She knew exactly how she was going to handle the auction. The plan she’d come up with would do exactly as Raffa had suggested and make the most of her strengths …

She was on her second cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. She remained where she was, hoping the invisible butler was still on duty, but the bell rang again. She reached distractedly for the intercom, her mind still half on her plan.

‘Raffa?’ Casey blenched. Raffa was not just in the building, he was at the door.

The space between the desk and the bathroom had never felt so far, but she had to grab a robe. Belting it tightly, she slipped her feet into slippers and with her heart thundering ten to the dozen ran back again to let him in.

How magnificent he looked in a tailored suit. Even with the earring and disreputable-looking stubble he was an imposing sight. And so was the team of businessmen and women standing in formation behind him.

Swinging the door shut with a gasp, she pulled it open just enough for him to hear her whisper, ‘Did you need something?’

‘May we come in?’

That was not a request, Casey gathered. ‘Could you give me a minute?’

‘Two minutes?’ Raffa suggested dryly.

She closed the door with barely a click. Two minutes to call room service, find clothes more suitable for a business meeting than her teddy bear print pyjamas, and summon the invisible butler from wherever he hung out. Shouldering the phone, she ordered juice, coffee, iced water and pastries. Scraping her hair back on her way to the bathroom, she secured it in the band she always wore round her wrist. Scrubbing her teeth, she gargled with mouthwash before tearing into the bedroom, where she tugged on her work clothes and forced a pair of shoes onto her feet more or less simultaneously.

‘Please come in,’ she invited two minutes later, hitting the deadline square on the nail.

He leafed through the notes Casey had prepared for him. Her handwriting
was
bad, but she had bullet-pointed everything, and her ideas leapt off the page. They were great.

‘This is good,’ he said briefly, before handing it around.

Casey’s ideas were unique and fresh, and he was glad he had passed responsibility for running the auction over to her. His only problem was with the large reception room they were using for this meeting. It was the same place he’d seen her half naked, and it was proving to be a real distraction. His position was clear, he reminded himself sternly. Casey was pure. He was not. She was under his protection.

Which wasn’t nearly enough to stop him wanting her.

The muted murmurs of Raffa’s team discussing her proposal provided a soothing soundtrack to Casey’s turbulent thoughts. Raffa watched his board members while she watched him. He glanced up once, and, seeing her looking at him, turned away. She knew her cheeks must be flushed, betraying her, but some-thing
made her look at him again … and this time their gazes held. Was Raffa approving her or warning her?

Thankfully, her body quivered a warning, which was enough to make her excuse herself from the table. At precisely that moment the invisible butler chose to make a welcome appearance at the head of a team of waiters with their midnight feast.

‘Thank you—just put it down over here, would you, please?’ Casey murmured as the discussion of her proposals continued to gather momentum around the table. She’d return in a minute and add her own thoughts to the discussion, but in the meantime … Was she imagining Raffa’s gaze on her back? She tensed, every sense on high alert. She concentrated hard on showing the waiters where to put things. ‘Thank you,’ she said to them again, handing over the tip she’d kept by.

‘You’ve thought of everything,’ Raffa murmured, appearing by her side.

‘Coffee?’ she said, struggling for normality in a world full of just one man.

‘Coffee would be good for everyone at this point.’

Raffa called a ten-minute break while she tried to ignore the effect his deep rich baritone was having on her senses.

‘No one wants to stop talking,’ he said, returning to her side. ‘They’re too enthused by your plan.’

‘I’m pleased they like it.’

‘Like it? They own it already.’

‘It’s only in the planning stages at the moment,’ she pointed out. ‘But if you think it’s what you want …’

‘It is what I want.’

His gaze strayed to her lips. She tried hard not to react or show by any means that her body yearned to be touched by him.

‘Shall we return to the table?’ Raffa suggested, as if this highly charged moment had never happened.

She practically galloped there.

They finally broke at three in the morning, by which time Casey was wide awake. But, as Raffa pointed out, they all
ought to get some sleep as they had to start again first thing in the morning.
This
morning, Casey reflected as the team filed out. It was hardly worth going to bed.

Raffa was the last to leave. During the course of the meeting he had taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a tempting few inches of hard, bronzed flesh. With his sleeves rolled back, revealing hard muscled forearms, he was quite a distraction—one she hadn’t had the chance to appreciate fully during the meeting. As she said goodbye to him he looked at her another beat too long. His stubble was blacker than ever, making him look like a buccaneer. He made her feel very small and not very safe, and suddenly she wasn’t sure what to say next. A brisk goodnight was safest, Casey concluded, reaching for the door handle.

She drew a swift intake of breath when Raffa’s hand covered hers.
Was this the moment?
She remained motionless as he lightly ran the knuckles of one hand down her cheek.

‘You did well tonight, Casey …’

‘Thank you …’ Everything slipped out of focus while she examined the effect Raffa had on her inexperienced body.

That had to be why it took her a moment to realise he’d gone.