Forbidden To Her Spanish Boss by Susan Stephens
CHAPTER TWO
DANCINGWITHTHEmost beautiful woman at a party was nothing new. Dancing with Rose Kelly was a revelation. He hadn’t expected Rose to be dynamite off duty, or to feel so voluptuous in his arms. During his sister’s wedding she’d unfurled like a flower, but it was the way Rose challenged him and made him smile that was the real surprise.
Alert as ever, she stared up at him. ‘You seem distant. Is there a problem?’
‘Beyond waiting for the band to start playing again?’ He shook his head. ‘No.’
That was a lie. Smiles had been in short supply since he’d witnessed the tragedy. Guilt had been his constant companion ever since. What was it about Rose that allowed him to hold the memory of his parents perishing in a plane crash and accept it as a scar surrounded by healthy tissue, rather than a wound that would never heal?
‘Are you sure?’ she pressed.
‘I’m sure.’ The concern in Rose’s eyes threw him. He was the fixer, the one people looked to for answers. And he didn’t disappoint—except himself, one time, on one memorable occasion, when even his strong will had been incapable of preventing a tragedy.
‘Okay, then.’ She smiled faintly, obviously unconvinced.
Rose’s luminous quality soothed his troubled mind, and attracted jealous glances, he noticed now. The urge to protect her was strong, but Rose was used to paddling her own canoe. She was the person people went to with their problems on his ranch. This was no milksop princess or society flitter-bug, but a strong, resourceful woman with a mind of her own. More than ever tonight, Rose had proved that appointing her Head Groom was one of the best decisions he’d ever made. ‘I should apologise,’ he found himself conceding.
‘For what?’ Her green eyes flared with interest.
‘My shabby start with you this evening.’
Disentangling herself from his arms, she stood back, amusement dancing in her eyes. ‘I’ve heard a lot worse. Six brothers,’ she reminded him. ‘And your charm won’t work on me now. Nothing you say will persuade me to let you have your evil way with me. I’ve got too much to lose.’
‘Your job?’ he guessed.
‘My self-respect,’ she corrected him.
Tension crackled between them. Identikit women, boasting the same breasts, lips and overbleached hair, paled by comparison to an understated woman who could amuse him with nothing more than the thoughts that came out of her highly kissable mouth.
‘Is it bedtime?’ she teased, when a couple next to them exchanged a meaningful look before leaving the dance floor.
‘If I thought you were serious.’
She laughed. ‘You wish.’
Rose’s cheek was unparalleled, but she inflamed his desire. Feeling her body against his when they danced had proved that by some mysterious alchemy they fitted together perfectly. Lust tormented him.
But lust would have to wait. For the first time in his life, it seemed more important to get to know a woman. The cold hard facts provided by his team about each member of staff didn’t come close to describing Rose Kelly, who was right in thinking they were causing a stir. He could practically read people’s thoughts.
Who was this woman?
Where had she come from?Was she a close family member?
She must be, or why was she a bridesmaid?
He drew Rose to him on the thought that she was more than a hard-working employee. She was brave and tough, and tender too. The substitute bridesmaid standing in the shadows, keeping her thoughts to herself as she watched everyone else have a good time, was almost certainly a lot closer to the real Rose Kelly than Rose would have him suppose.
She was playing with fire, just by dancing with Raffa. The way her body was responding to his was ridiculous. She wanted him in a way that wasn’t safe—not for her job, not for Rose. Had she forgotten the reputation of the unmarried Acosta brothers? Notorious for landing, conquering and moving on, they were hardly the safe option for a dance. Their sister, Sofia, was different. The seeds of friendship had been sown between the two of them that morning, when Sofia had confided in Rose that she was creating retreats for those who needed healing beyond the scope of conventional medicine, and Rose had immediately thought of her father.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Raffa commented, so close to her ear that it tingled.
‘Just thinking...’
‘A dangerous recreation at the best of times. Good thoughts, or bad?’
‘Mostly good,’ she admitted, lifting her chin to meet the stare of a man who could easily muddle her thinking.
‘You’re not usually lost for words, Rose,’ he prompted.
‘I’ll blame those six brothers again,’ she admitted on a laugh. ‘Bantering with them tends to hone your conversational skills.’
‘Sofia would agree with you, I’m sure.’
‘Then, you know what to expect from me,’ she stated bluntly.
‘Trouble?’ Raffa proposed.
‘As much as you want,’ she offered wryly.
The hand in his was small, but strong, while the woman beneath the couture dress was as lovely as any here, but Rose had the edge in his eyes, because she was never afraid to speak her mind. His sister’s friends were generally marked out by their manicured appearance, but, even on this most important of days, he could tell Rose’s preparation had been rushed. He could imagine Rose devoting all her time to helping Sofia look perfect and doing little more than pelting in and out of the shower herself, leaving her womanly body smelling of soap. A mere slash of eyeshadow enhanced the emerald in her eyes, while the gloss on her lips begged to be devoured—
‘Do you like the gown?’
‘Do I...?’ He laughed as she sucked in her stomach. ‘You don’t need to do that.’
‘Oh, but I do,’ she insisted. ‘I was the closest to the original bridesmaid in build, but it’s still a dress size too small for me. It’s couture, you know.’ She gave a twirl. ‘And I was determined to get into it. I’ve never worn anything like it before. Talk about silk purse and sow’s ear—’
‘Don’t you dare,’ he warned. ‘The gown looks lovely on you.’ How could it not, when the silk and lace showcased a figure any woman would envy?
‘Sofia said I can keep it,’ Rose confided as they started dancing again. ‘I feel bad, because I’ll never have the chance to wear it again.’
‘You don’t know what life holds.’
This evening had made up his mind. He had a tour of business appointments coming up that required the use of his yacht, the Pegasus. It was the easiest way to move around Europe while entertaining in style. Rose would come with him. Her work in the stable was exemplary, leaving only one question: Could she handle the social aspect of the job?
There could be no hiding in the shadows on his yacht. Rose hadn’t held the post of Head Groom for very long, and it called for mixing with royalty and celebrity alike to discuss the merits of his various ponies. What better training ground could there be than a week on the Pegasus?
‘It’s time to go,’ Rose announced as the band gave way to a DJ. ‘I’ll check on the ponies first, and then I’m off to bed. My own bed,’ she stressed with a grin. ‘We’ve got an early flight in the morning.’
‘And if we didn’t?’
‘I’d still go to bed on my own.’
He couldn’t help laughing. ‘What about a drink first?’ he suggested, reluctant to let her go. ‘The ponies are safe, and you of all people know how important it is to remain hydrated.’
‘Sensible me?’ Rose suggested dryly, before cheekily adding, ‘Or, capable me?’
‘You got me,’ he admitted wryly, hand to chest.
Not at all offended, she was laughing as they walked to the beachfront where a bar had been set up. A waiter quickly found them some seats.
‘This is nice,’ Rose murmured as she dabbled her feet in the water.
‘You’re a force to be reckoned with, Rose Kelly.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’
‘School, college, equestrian training—top of the class in every arena.’
Every arena except one. The romance she longed for had so far eluded Rose, and she doubted tonight would put that right. It was her own fault. She’d been too busy striving to be the best, to earn enough money to find her father some effective treatment, to spend time on relationships. ‘Forged in steel and horse muck,’ she agreed.
‘And a great deal of hard work,’ Raffa argued.
‘Nice of you to say so...’ Turning her face to the sky, she closed her eyes to drag deep on the scent of ozone, laced with the heady perfume of warm, clean man at her side. ‘And now, look at me, reaping the benefits,’ she teased, sitting up straight to smile into his eyes. ‘Who’d have thought I’d find myself here?’
‘You’ve earned this opportunity,’ Raffa said firmly. ‘Don’t let anyone tell you any different. Your gift with horses is second to none, and you’ve got heart, Rose. The horses know it.’
But did he? She doubted it.
‘You have been forged in steel, Rose Kelly,’ he asserted. ‘I’ve read your CV.’
‘It was that, or crumble when my mother died. I’m sorry,’ she jumped in, desperate to right the wrong. ‘We’ve both suffered loss. I should have been more sensitive. Loss either breaks you or makes you, doesn’t it?’
And now she’d made things worse. Raffa’s stare was dark and long. Rose fell silent too. Everything had been upbeat until she’d taken them both to a place of grief. She knew little about the death of his parents apart from what she’d read in the press, that the plane crash had affected all the Acostas, even Sofia, who’d been very young at the time. Whatever Raffa’s torment, she couldn’t leave him in that dark place on his own.
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ As she spoke, she impulsively covered his hand with hers.
‘As I am for yours, Rose,’ he murmured, pulling his hand away.
‘I still have my father,’ she said lightly to cover her embarrassment. ‘Just.’
‘Just?’ Raffa queried, dipping his head to interrogate her with one of his penetrating black stares. ‘Is there something I don’t know that I can help you with?’
‘No. Nothing.’ Everything. But she wouldn’t ask Raffa for help. What would he think of her? Didn’t everyone go to him for some sort of assistance—usually financial? This was Rose’s family problem, and she would sort it out. By herself.
Seeing Raffa still brooding, she went in with a distraction. ‘Tomorrow, this magic will all be over. You’ll be back to riding the pants off the competition and running your billion-dollar corporations, while I’ll be mucking out your horses.’
He laughed, but not before she’d seen the well of grief behind his eyes—grief that mirrored her own. ‘If you ever want to talk?’ she couldn’t help adding.
He stiffened. ‘I’m not in the habit of discussing personal matters.’
That response should have been enough for Rose to keep her mouth shut, but she’d never been good at that. ‘Why not? Talking helps. Why is talking about you off limits?’
‘I’m your boss?’ Raffa suggested with a look that warned Rose again to back off.
‘Thanks for reminding me.’ She also silently thanked six argumentative brothers for prepping her well for this type of combat. ‘For a moment there, I thought we were two human beings sharing experiences on an equal footing.’
She held her breath, uncertain as to how Raffa would respond. And had to stop herself exclaiming with relief when the same humour that had attracted her when he’d come out with such an outrageous opening statement to her at the wedding crept back into his eyes. ‘What if I told you your boss is considering your next training programme, to advance your career?’
Rose’s heart leapt out of her chest—or felt as if it had. Each module she’d embarked on so far at Raffa’s prompting had been equivalent to an advanced course in equine care. The thought of another thrilled her to the bone—but not to the point where she wouldn’t be honest with him. ‘I’d still tell you the truth.’
‘That’s what I hoped you’d say.’
Rose’s head was spinning. She loved her job. All good things sprang from it. Her career was not just the bedrock of Rose’s self-belief, but the means by which she hoped one day to pay for her father’s treatment. On those rare occasions when he was sober, and she saw the man he could be, Rose redoubled her determination to live up to the pledge she’d made to her mother to take care of the family. Any advancement in her career would help her to do that.
‘I’ll see you receive the details as soon as possible,’ Raffa was saying.
‘I’d appreciate that.’
‘Goodnight, Rose.’
Dismissed, she stood, recognising that tomorrow was already here. Reality had been stalking them, and the magic was now well and truly gone.
‘Goodnight, Señor Acosta. And thank you once again for everything.’
He sat in the same chair for almost an hour after Rose had left. The moon beamed down like a spotlight on the ocean, while he turned a spotlight on himself. He’d never opened up to anyone. Not even by the smallest hint had he revealed the wounds Rose had uncovered with her words. To protect his brothers, and most especially his sister, Sofia, he avoided talking about the past in case he intruded on their grief. So why tonight, when accompanied by this young woman who worked for him, with whom he’d enjoyed some low-level flirting, had he been prompted to lay bare a part of himself that was as raw today as the day he had stood watching in helpless horror as his parents’ plane crashed in flames on the runway in front of him?
Impatient to be thinking about the past, when there was nothing to be done about it, he sprang up. He’d seen the sadness in Rose’s eyes and had done something about it. Workwise, she was a worthy candidate for advancement, and he’d give her every chance.
In other ways?
There were no other ways where Rose was concerned. He’d seen how emotional involvement led to disaster. If he’d diverted that plane—insisted his parents travel on a regular flight, rather than taking their small private jet with a drunken pilot at the controls—they could still be alive today.
The pain that thought brought him was warning enough to keep his feelings in check. He was a man of business, a man of polo, a man who...
Would never have a family of his own?
He braced his shoulders against the truth. The man who, on his last polo tour, had looked at his brothers and Acosta cousins with envy, as they’d played with their children and laughed with their partners. Good luck to them! They’d been lucky. He had more sense than to tempt fate to smile on him where love, luck and family were concerned.
Having thanked the wedding organisers for giving his sister a wonderful day, he headed back to the palace. He never went to bed without checking on the ponies first. The grooms travelling with him were more than capable of doing this, but there was always the possibility that they might need something, or one of the horses had refused to settle. The fact that Rose could be carrying out the same checks was irrelevant to him, except that nagging part of him that insisted they weren’t done yet—and not just in the professional sense.
When he reached the palace stables the grooms were changing shifts. One sleek, spotless, air-conditioned interior of a top-class polo stable was much like another, and Prince Cesar’s facility made him long for home. In that, he and Rose weren’t so dissimilar, he reflected as he entered the security code to gain entry. Rose might enjoy her job, but he suspected that part of her heart would always be in Ireland.
Once inside the stable block, he shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
‘Raffa!’
‘Lurking in the shadows again?’ he reprimanded, though Rose’s voice had caressed his senses like a welcome embrace.
‘Working, not lurking,’ she assured him.
Rose was smiling when he walked up to her, holding an armful of kittens. She’d changed out of her gown into an old pair of jeans and a shapeless top, with a pair of serviceable muckers on her feet. ‘You call that work?’ he challenged.
‘Tell that to the kittens,’ she said as she buried her face in soft fur.
Work lights illuminated her face, making Rose appear more radiant than ever.
‘Do you want to hold one?’
He declined. ‘Better put them back with their mother. She’ll be missing them.’
‘You’re right,’ Rose agreed reluctantly. ‘I found them in one of the stalls, making a break for freedom.’
Animals were a great leveller, and a great indicator of character too. ‘You don’t have to make up your time for attending the wedding by working late,’ he made clear as they went to find the mother cat’s nest.
‘You’re here,’ Rose pointed out. When he didn’t reply, she added, ‘And while you’re here, I should ask—did I go too far with the cheek tonight?’
He raised a brow. ‘Just put the kittens back in their nest.’
Rose seemed reluctant to part with them, and turned to give him an imploring glance. ‘If you even hint at the fact that rescuing kittens has been the best part of your night, I will take offence,’ he warned.
He received an amused glance. ‘I’m sure you won’t stop teasing me any time soon,’ Rose declared. ‘So, yes, if you must know, the best part of tonight was dancing with you.’
Her frankness disarmed him. ‘But you’re more comfortable with animals?’ he guessed.
‘It would be rude to admit that.’
‘But it’s true?’ he pressed.
‘They’re not as dangerous as some of the humans I’ve met,’ she admitted.
‘I hope you don’t count me amongst those threats?’
‘You’d better be one of the good guys, or I’m in trouble,’ Rose countered, humour brightening her eyes. ‘Although you certainly don’t look like one of the good guys to me.’
‘To prove my credentials, I’ll escort you to the door of the grooms’ quarters.’
‘That’s very good of you, but it doesn’t prove a thing,’ she pointed out. ‘Do I have cause to worry?’
‘Not tonight.’
‘Well, that’s honest enough. You have my permission to walk me to the door—but no further.’
‘Thank you, señorita,’ he mocked lightly. ‘I’m hugely honoured to end my evening with such a crushing blow to my ego.’
‘You’ll get over it,’ Rose assured him.
The verbal banter between them was entertaining, but reality had landed with a bump, Rose mused with a twist of her lips. Cinderella would quite literally be returning to her garret at the top of a palace tower, while he would spend the night in supreme luxury in one of the Prince’s best suites. ‘After you,’ he invited.
As Raffa politely gestured she should go ahead of him, Rose tried to squeeze past, but the mother cat had made her nest in a narrow passage where space was extremely limited. This made it inevitable that they brushed against each other. Instead of apologising and moving on, which was what she should have done, she paused and stared up at him. In that moment, she could have sworn Raffa wanted to kiss her.
He didn’t kiss her.
It was amazing what the body could drive the mind to believe. ‘Excuse me,’ she said politely.
‘Of course.’ He took a step back.
Not that it wasn’t a joy to move past him and feel those hard muscles resisting the press of her softly yielding body, but that would be the only thing yielding tonight. She’d do nothing to risk the advancement of her career, because there was so much at stake—not just Rose’s career, but her father’s future hung in the balance too.