Forbidden To Her Spanish Boss by Susan Stephens
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROSESETTLEDSTRAIGHTback into life on the ranch. After a week of rest, during which Adena took over as Head Groom, Rose began to feel refreshed. Sleeping late, and eating her fill of the delicious food on offer, together with swimming in the river when she wasn’t riding flat out through the lush green meadows with the wind in her hair, all contributed to her growing sense of peace. There was only one thing missing, and that was Raffa, who’d said she needed space.
Not this much space, Rose reflected as she paced the office he’d set aside for her. It wasn’t all bad. Máire had contacted Rose out of the blue to say she’d like to be involved in the new retreat. Working with friends was a gift Rose had found on the ranch, and she was thrilled to think it could continue in Ireland.
Her thoughts returned to Raffa and she sighed, missing everything about him—the chat, the laughter, the banter they’d shared, as well as their closeness. At least she could concentrate on work while he was away. Well, that was the theory, until she left the office to go to the tack room, where she found her friends clustered around the TV. The feature they were watching showcased a man who lit up the screen.
‘Romance?’ Raffa was querying in answer to one of the reporter’s questions. ‘Romance is for those with too much time on their hands.’
Rose flinched.
‘So, you’re not a romantic person?’ the reporter stubbornly persisted to a background of Raffa and Rose dancing at Sofia’s wedding.
‘I’m a practical man who believes in chivalry,’ Raffa said with a shrug. ‘An outdated quality, no doubt—’
‘Would your groom have dared to refuse you?’ the young woman interrupted with a simpering laugh.
‘The person in question knows where to draw the line—something I suggest you embrace.’ Ripping off his microphone was the producer’s cue to cut quickly to Raffa whacking a ball across a polo field with the force of a bullet to a chorus of good-natured cheers from the tack room.
‘With all that talk of chivalry, he does belong in another era,’ one of the young male grooms proposed, with a cheeky sideways glance at Rose. ‘When men were men and women did what they were told,’ he added recklessly, to the accompaniment of a bucket full of pony nuts being tipped over his head by Adena.
While chaos ensued, Rose watched a montage of Raffa on the screen. He hadn’t needed her on this business trip, as he’d only played one match. Her heart ached with longing. No amount of common sense could deal with that. The camera loved him. She loved him, and it was getting harder by the day to hide that fact from her friends.
‘There’s a letter for you, Rose,’ Adena announced as the good-natured scrum in the tack room broke up, and everyone returned to their duties. ‘I recognise the handwriting. I wonder what it is this time.’
Since the day Raffa had embarked on this latest trip, he’d been in contact with Rose constantly, not on a romantic level, of course, for which, if she had an iota of that common sense she was supposedly famous for, she should be grateful.
She was not grateful. She missed him like hell. Each delivery had contained something practical connected to her job. If there was ever a signal that it was time for Rose Kelly to get real and finally accept that Raffa Acosta had no wish to embark on a long-term relationship with his head groom, then surely, that was it? Shutting off the screen, she blanked her mind to every taut and tanned muscle.
‘Aren’t you going to open the letter?’ Adena pressed.
‘Not here.’ Rose smiled apologetically. She craved the privacy of her room. ‘It’s probably just a list of instructions to add to those I already have,’ she said as she tucked the envelope into her pocket.
Once her door was closed, she ripped the envelope open. And gasped. It was an invitation to spend her birthday on board Raffa’s superyacht.
As fast as surprise and elation swept over her, gloom set in. The accompanying note was hardly romantic.
This will be an ideal chance to discuss business. I’m inviting some people I’d like you to meet. R
‘That sounds like fun,’ Rose murmured, pulling a face.
But why not? Why the hell not? Socialising was part of her job, and for as long as it lasted she’d do that job to the very best of her ability. And if she didn’t wear those fabulous clothes hanging in her dressing room on board the Pegasus, who would?
Don’t even go there, Rose’s inner critic advised. Just reply to the invitation and accept.
Raffa sent a helicopter to the ranch to pick her up. As it hovered overhead Rose hoped with all her heart he’d be at the controls. He wasn’t. A cordial older man in uniform came to help her board. There was scarcely any conversation on the way, bar the information that they would be joining the Pegasus off the coast of Spain. Would Raffa greet her when they arrived, or would he be too busy? He might not even be on board, she reasoned sensibly. Helicopters were nifty taxis for the super-rich. He could be anywhere.
With anyone.
And that was none of her business.
How could her heart be so wrong? Rose wondered as the pilot helped her down on to the deserted deck. No welcoming committee this time. Just the instruction to report to the grand salon. Thankfully, the sea was smooth today with just the slightest hint that the ground was shifting beneath her feet. How apt, she thought as she opened the doors to the grand salon.
‘Surprise!’
She gasped with shock. There were banners everywhere, wishing Rose a happy birthday, and so many people she knew—some she hadn’t seen for ages. And all her brothers!
‘How—’
Sofia was at her side in moments. ‘Come with me.’ Raffa’s sister linked arms with Rose to draw her deeper into the crowd. ‘You deserve this,’ she shouted above the cheers, as Rose shook her head in bewilderment. ‘This is our chance to say thank you, for all your hard work on the new retreat, for the programmes you set up and for...well, just being you.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Rose shouted back.
‘You’re going to enjoy this,’ Sofia promised. ‘Kellys and Acostas, as well as a prince or two. If that isn’t a chilli-spiked mix, I don’t know what is. I’m a respectable married woman, but even I’d have to be wood from the neck up not to think lock up your daughters when the Kelly brothers are here.’
‘I can’t believe they’re all here,’ Rose marvelled. ‘How on earth did you find them?’
‘Thank Raffa, not me,’ Sofia explained. ‘There isn’t a thing that man can’t do when he puts his mind to it. And don’t mind your brothers—look at the cake!’
A snowy white damask tablecloth set off a towering edifice of chocolate and cream. ‘Six entire feet of chocolate heaven,’ Sofia enthused. ‘I can’t wait for you to cut into it.’
Rose stared ruefully at her rumpled travelling clothes. ‘I’m not dressed for this.’
‘None of us are, but we will be,’ Sofia promised.
‘Happy birthday, Rose...’
The familiar deep husky tone thrilled its way through Rose’s body. Raffa’s eyes finished the job. His expression was such a mix of brooding purpose and delicious promise, her words came out jumbled and all in a rush. ‘Just seeing my brothers again—I can’t express—I don’t deserve this.’
‘Sofia assures me you do. Please accept this as our birthday gift. Can I interest you in a glass of champagne?’
‘Oh, no, I should keep a clear head, but thank you. I imagine there are people you want me to meet.’
‘You do as you please tonight. This is your birthday party.’
‘I’d like to say hello to my brothers.’
‘What are you waiting for?’
She glanced up, thanks blazing in her eyes. The last time she’d had a birthday party her mother had been alive.
Rose,Rose,Rose, Raffa reflected, thumbing his stubble as he watched Rose’s exuberant reunion with her brothers. Everyone enjoyed spending time with Rose. The entire impossible-to-please Acosta clan appreciated what Rose had accomplished, both on his ranch, where she had improved rotas and training regimes, and at Sofia’s retreats, where her programmes were already making a difference.
And then there were his personal feelings for Rose.
If he’d been a different man, things might have moved faster with Rose, but protecting her from his darkness took priority. That said, it was becoming harder each day to be apart from her. Imagining Rose with another man was totally unthinkable.
‘I’ve got an announcement to make,’ Sofia declared in her usual fizzy tone as she tapped on a glass. ‘Your Royal Highnesses, lords, ladies and gentlemen—’
He might have known several jokers would insist there were no gentlemen present.
‘To honour our friend Rose Kelly,’ Sofia continued the moment order had been resumed, ‘we’re going to take a short break to get changed into our finery. And no shenanigans while you’re below decks,’ she warned with a mischievous twinkle, ‘or the party will never get started.’
This remark brought about a fresh bout of good-natured laughter, during which Raffa asked the purser to make sure a steward accompanied Rose to her suite. He was determined she would feel at home on the Pegasus, not as his employee, but as a valued friend of the family.
Closing the door on the now familiar sumptuous accommodation, Rose rested back against the wood with relief. She needed a few quiet moments to get her head around everything that had happened in the past few hours. The birthday party was such a lovely thing for Raffa and Sofia to have arranged, but Raffa’s appraising stare had told her nothing beyond his concern. Trying to be businesslike and sensible about this, she reasoned, pulling away from the door, was impossible where Raffa was concerned, when just seeing him again was enough to flood her mind with images of his impossibly powerful body pressing hungrily against hers.
Heading for the dressing room to pick out something to wear for the party, she wanted to impress him. What was wrong with that? Today was her birthday, and this year she was gifting herself Raffa.
He was as stunned as everyone else when Rose returned to the party. Bathed in moonlight, she looked like an old-time movie star in a slim column of night-blue silk, with a split up the side that revealed her flawless legs. But, once again, it was her hair that took the prize. She had chosen to wear it loose, and it tumbled to her waist in a fiery profusion of shimmering waves. Lust fired inside him. Rose Kelly fired him in every way possible. There were many beautiful women on board the Pegasus tonight, but none compared to Rose, because her inner beauty, fired by a generous heart and a loving nature, meant she could not be outshone.
‘Will you dance with me, señorita?’ he asked, bowing over Rose’s hand, marvelling at how pale and slim it was, and yet how strong.
‘I’d love to,’ she said in her customary unaffected way.
Rose’s delectable scent and quick smile intoxicated him, as did the sparkle of challenge in her bright emerald eyes. This promised to be an outstanding evening.
‘You dance well, señorita,’ he said, relishing the brush of her body against his.
‘I have an excellent partner,’ she replied with a grin and the lift of a brow.
Rose might be in the mood for teasing him, but tonight she looked like a queen—a queen who moved in his arms as if she belonged there. The acid stares from her brothers suggested the attraction between them was glaringly obvious. Don’t hurt her, their looks said, as clearly as if Rose’s brothers had bellowed the instruction in his ear.
‘What can we do about this?’ he reflected out loud.
‘About what?’ Rose asked.
Sweeping her brothers’ concern from his mind, he voiced his own. ‘I haven’t got a birthday gift for you.’
‘What’s this?’ Rose demanded, glancing around. ‘Isn’t this party the most wonderful gift? Not to mention the gown I’m wearing,’ she added, smoothing an appreciative hand over the tailoring.
‘These are such small things, Rose.’
‘Not for me,’ she assured him with a reproachful look.
At a loss to know how to please a woman who expected nothing from him, when he wanted to do so much for her, he drew Rose close again and they danced on. But not for long. ‘I really should go and look after the guests,’ she told him during a brief pause in the music. ‘My brothers will never forgive me if I don’t introduce them around.’
And with that she was gone. He filled the gap left by Rose by making sure everyone was enjoying themselves. They caught up later at the cake table, where Rose, surrounded by a crowd of well-wishers, was telling everyone that she’d been spoiled tonight.
‘No more than you deserve.’
She turned at the sound of his voice. ‘Raffa!’ Her glowing eyes told him everything he wanted to know, and he was glad when her companions took the hint and melted away.
‘This is such an amazing night,’ she enthused. ‘Just look at this cake...’
The lightest touch of Rose’s hand on his arm was a thunderbolt to his senses. He followed her stare to the towering mountain of chocolate icing, festooned with various horse-related candies attached to each layer of the mammoth structure. On the topmost layer, the figure of a woman riding a horse was supposed to represent Rose, but the sculpted hair on the marzipan figurine was bright orange, while the horse was a dull, chocolatey brown. Neither did justice to Rose, or to her favourite pony. It was a good attempt by his chef, but now he wished he’d sent for a master patissier from Paris. The hair should be glittering gold, and the pony should have its ears pricked and its head turned towards Rose.
The ceremony of cutting the cake was a welcome break from the growing sexual tension between them. Rose made a big play of wielding the knife in a way that made everyone laugh, but then she grew serious and made a short speech. Thanking both him and Sofia, for the opportunities they’d put her way, as well as the chances they’d given to so many more people, she also thanked her guests for taking valuable time out of busy schedules to join the celebration.
‘There’s no one more deserving than you,’ his sister called out.
Sofia’s comment was received by answering cheers as Rose cut the cake. He took a glass of champagne to Rose so they could toast her birthday. ‘You still haven’t told me what you’d like for a gift,’ he reminded her.
‘Being here with my family and friends is enough,’ she assured him.
‘Some small token, surely?’ he pressed.
She thought about it for a moment, then held up the untouched glass of champagne in her hand. Like all the crystal on board the Pegasus, the image of a flying horse was etched on the side of the flute. ‘How about this, so I can remember tonight forever?’
He pulled his head back with surprise. Even for a woman he knew could not be bought with riches, this was a disappointingly modest request. ‘I’m sure I can think of something better than a champagne glass for you to remember tonight by.’
Her eyes filled with longing, but only for a moment, and then, Rose being Rose, she reverted to her usual cheeky self. ‘You just don’t want to break up a set,’ she said, eyes dancing with amusement.