Forbidden To Her Spanish Boss by Susan Stephens

CHAPTER THREE

LONGINGWASN’TSOmuch a state of mind as a real physical ache, Rose concluded as Raffa, true to his word, escorted her back to the grooms’ quarters. Of course she wanted him. Her body demanded she sleep with him, but too much hung on keeping her job.

She’d settle for a lifetime of wondering What if? because that was far safer. Hadn’t she seen an excess of emotion taking her parents on a roller-coaster ride, with far too many downs and not nearly enough ups? When emotion was in the mix it wasn’t just sparks that flew, but whisky bottles and teacups, and anything else that came to hand.

When they reached the old oak door that marked the entrance to the grooms’ quarters, she held out her hand to shake his. ‘Thank you for a wonderful evening.’

‘Thank you, Rose. I’ve enjoyed myself immensely.’

The touch of Raffa’s hand was shockingly arousing, and she had to quite literally remind herself to let him go. ‘Have a great night’s sleep—’

‘You’re not turning me down again, are you?’ Raffa teased.

‘That I am,’ she confirmed.

Who was this woman to keep him up all night? With a disbelieving shake of his head, he stood beneath an ice-cold shower the following morning, wondering why the freezing water was having no effect. It wasn’t subduing his interest in Rose—his body was straining at the leash.

Once he’d prised her from the shadows, Rose Kelly had proved more intriguing than he could possibly have expected. Even Rose’s cold shoulder was the hottest thing to have happened to him in quite a while. Her lilting Irish accent and those sparkling emerald eyes, combined with her quick wit, and a body to die for, might have seemed a cliché if anyone but Rose had been involved, but he knew she was the genuine article.

She’d bewitched him, he concluded as he towelled down roughly. No woman should be allowed to do that. Hadn’t he made a pledge not to draw anyone close? Yanking on his jeans, he pulled on the first top that came to hand. It wasn’t just the fact they were flying home this morning that made him eager to start the day, but the thought of working alongside Rose that drove him on. Raking impatient fingers through his still damp hair, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

And then he got a call.

Preparing the ponies for their flight was one of Rose’s favourite jobs, but she couldn’t help listening out for Raffa. Where was he?

As soon as she finished work, she went to the tack room to grab a glass of water before the flight, to find a new notice pinned up on the board.

Señor Acosta regrets leaving before thanking the grooms for their hard work during this trip.

Raffa had left without saying goodbye? So much for enjoying himself last night! Thank goodness she’d had the good sense to go to her own bed alone, instead of inviting him to join her. Imagine how she’d feel if she had slept with him.

Worse than now? Was that even possible?

Now she noticed something glinting on the floor. Swooping down, she recognised the sparkling black stone encased in white metal as one of the cufflinks Raffa had been wearing last night while they were dancing. Later in the stable, he’d been in shirtsleeves, she recalled.

The find was not a glass slipper, and Rose was no Cinderella, but she’d have to get it back to him somehow. Tucking it safely inside the breast pocket of her shirt, she returned to work.

‘Rose, have you seen this? It’s addressed to you.’ Rose’s friend and fellow groom Adena excitedly handed over a note. ‘How was the wedding?’ Adena asked with a grin.

‘Spectacular,’ Rose admitted.

‘I thought as much,’ Adena said. ‘Looks like a letter from the boss,’ she added, leaning over Rose’s shoulder.

So, he hadn’t forgotten her. Ripping the envelope open, Rose found an invitation to spend the following week on Raffa’s yacht! Incredible.Exciting.Terrifying. Then reality hit. This was no romantic billet-doux, but a call to action by her boss. She read it again.

I have to know you’re confident enough to handle all the responsibilities of Head Groom, including entertaining royalty.

For a moment Rose was panic-stricken. Royalty? Could she even curtsey? She couldn’t do it—not a chance!

Why not? Hadn’t she made the successful transition from a small farm in Ireland to Raffa’s fabulous facility in the heart of Spain? Surviving six brothers meant she was no shrinking violet, and a working life was all about exploring possibilities. So long as entertaining royalty didn’t involve feathers or veils, she was up for it.

‘On board his yacht,’ Rose murmured thoughtfully.

‘He uses the Pegasus as a floating office and entertainment centre,’ Adena explained.

‘I see,’ Rose murmured, wishing she had more experience to draw on. It wasn’t her ability to adapt to these new demands that concerned her, but her naivete where men were concerned. Flirting at the wedding was one thing, but being enclosed on a yacht for a week with a man she found so devastatingly attractive...six brothers looking over her shoulder and a drunken father in the background hadn’t exactly given Rose much chance to learn about men.

She’d done okay so far, Rose reasoned. She’d just have to rise to the occasion, and hope Raffa didn’t do the same.

Landing by helicopter on a swaying deck in the dark was quite an experience. There was no sign of Raffa in the welcoming committee, which consisted of two uniformed stewards who had obviously expected Rose to arrive with a great deal of luggage.

Shouldering her backpack, she smiled her thanks as a man who introduced himself as the purser helped her down. To say the ground was shifting beneath her feet was an understatement, but she was determined to make the most of this new adventure.

Try telling yourself that when you can’t get a signal on your phone, or your balance on the deck!Clinging to the rail, she smiled brightly at the purser as he waited patiently for Rose to follow him. This was the experience of a lifetime, she reminded herself, not a trial by ordeal.

Once they were inside the spectacular interior of the mammoth yacht, Rose began to relax, though another shock was waiting when the purser showed her into her quarters. She had expected something small and cramped in the bowels of the ship, but he had just opened a pair of grand double doors on the most amazing suite of rooms.

‘All for me?’ She breathed like a muppet as she took in what looked more like an upscale penthouse than a cabin on a ship.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ the purser replied. ‘All for you.’

Two very different worlds had just collided. She knew horses could often cross the boundaries of race, wealth and class, and Rose had always been comfortable working alongside Raffa on his ranch, but here she felt...completely at sea?

‘I hope you’ll be comfortable,’ the purser said as he showed her around the most sumptuous accommodation imaginable.

‘Are you sure this is where I’m supposed to be staying?’

‘If you’d prefer another suite—’

That wasn’t what she’d meant at all. ‘This is absolutely perfect.’ If entirely over the top for a groom. Alarm bells started ringing when she stared at the emperor-sized bed.

‘You’ll find the dressing room is stocked with most things you’ll need,’ the purser continued, ‘but if there’s anything else you can think of that’s missing, we can have it flown in by helicopter.’

Of course they could, Rose marvelled. ‘Well, this is wonderful.’ And miraculous. How did they even know her size?

Leading her through to a dressing room with the dimensions of a conventional lounge, the purser opened drawers and cupboards on an array of high-end goods.

‘Sorry to repeat myself,’ Rose said, frowning, ‘but are you sure all this is for me?’

‘Señorita Adena was asked to fill out a list of things you might like.’

Adena? Ah, that solved the mystery, but why hadn’t Raffa asked Rose straight out? Didn’t he trust her to ask for the right things to fit with his lifestyle on board the yacht?

The thrill of looking around made Raffa’s presumption fade away. Not only had Adena proved to be the best of friends, she’d done the most excellent job.

‘You’ll find a letter detailing plans for each day,’ the purser informed Rose. ‘In your free time, you may use the swimming pool on the sun deck, where you can call for drinks and snacks. Please enjoy the rest of your day.’

‘You’re very kind.’ She had to force herself to walk slowly to the door as she showed him out, but the moment the door had closed behind him she rushed back to pounce on the letter. Ripping the envelope open, she pulled out a note. Embossed with the logo of a flying horse, it said in Raffa’s bold black script:

You will be dining in the open-air salon tonight at eight o’clock. Dress: casual.

Casual, as in banged-up jeans and an old faded top? She doubted it. Shower first, with the suit she normally wore for interviews hanging in the bathroom to steam out the creases. A fresh blouse later, and she’d be ready for whatever lay ahead.

The temptation to take a quick tour of the outfits in her dressing room proved irresistible. It would be rude not to. Adena had gone to so much trouble. These were clothes Rose had only seen in magazines before. Caution was not a word she would use in connection with them. Glamour was the watchword here.

‘I miss you, Adena,’ Rose murmured as she stared in awe. ‘And I promise to wear at least one of these fabulous gowns, if only as a nightdress...’

Rose reckoned a swim before dinner might relax her. The way she felt—excited, aroused and bewildered at the thought of seeing Raffa again in these extraordinary surroundings—threatened to take her mind off the reason she was here. Plus, she had to brace herself for disappointment when he treated her not as a dance partner, or a woman he wanted to spend time with, but as his head groom—which should have been enough for her, but really wasn’t. Selecting her armour, she chose a bright green swimming costume with matching cover-up. This was no time for blending into the shadows.

A sense of urgency pervaded his work the moment Raffa learned Rose was on board. Finishing the last of his video calls early, he found it impossible to concentrate on anything else until he’d seen her. A head groom gained unique insight into his life, meaning the position called for the utmost discretion, along with encyclopaedic knowledge about horses, together with the ability to communicate that knowledge to all types of people. This week would prove whether Rose was ideally suited in the long term for the job.

She was certainly suited for his bed, he reflected before he could stop himself as he pulled on his swimming shorts. The purser had informed him that Rose was in her stateroom, so he planned to swim and clear his head before meeting up with her. Having spent the morning behind a desk, he was eager for exercise.

He arrived at the pool to find Rose had settled in before him. The surprise of seeing her there was a punch to his senses. With her back to him, and a large-brimmed hat hiding her spectacular hair, it was clear she’d gone for impact, rather than discretion, by choosing an emerald green swimsuit that outlined her spectacular figure. A matching cover-up was draped across the chair, but she made no attempt to reach for it as she turned to face him.

Rose.

Grabbing a swim towel from the stack on the side, he slung it around his neck.

Removing her hat, Rose placed it carefully on the sunbed at her side. With a graceful action, she reached up to free her glorious hair from the colourful scarf containing it. As she raked her fingers through the waist-length tumble, the effect it created was, to Raffa’s mind, a fiery cloud to compete with any sunset.

‘Raffa!’

‘I’m sorry if I startled you.’

She clutched her chest. ‘It’s good to see you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for inviting me to your yacht. Not as a guest, of course,’ she added quickly, as if wanting to reassure him on that point.

‘I hope my purser has made you comfortable?’

‘If I had to walk the plank anywhere, I guess this is the best place to do it.’

He raised a brow. ‘Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.’

His body urgently demanded one thing, while his mind demanded another. He required the best of the best in the role of Head Groom. Rose was that individual. There’d be other women he could have in his bed.

But they wouldn’t be Rose.

‘The Pegasus effortlessly covers vast distances, allowing me to entertain at short notice. No hotel can compete with the facilities here.’

‘I heartily confirm that,’ Rose agreed.

Something had to give. How could she be so cool when the wolf inside him was howling with impatience? ‘Swim?’ he suggested curtly, willing his body to behave.

‘Why not?’ Rose replied eagerly.

‘You do swim?’

‘I do,’ she confirmed, with what he thought was a glint of amusement.

Rose accepted the invitation gladly. Having seen Raffa in black swimming shorts that revealed more than they concealed, she badly needed cooling off. Her senses were in free fall, but wanting him was dangerous to both her heart and mind. How to stop wanting him was the problem. Raffa was her boss. Rose was here to prove she could handle all aspects of the job. Expanding her working life was an exciting prospect, and one she embraced with enthusiasm...but there was nothing to stop her having a little harmless fun along the way.

The water was deliciously cold against her overheated skin. Rising to the surface, she drew in air before slicing through the water as if racing her brothers. Within moments a form appeared beneath her. It was Raffa, swimming underwater on his back. She kicked even harder, but, the wretch he was, he pulled ahead.

‘You cheated,’ she accused when they reached the far end, by which time she was laughing with sheer pleasure.

‘I cheated by swimming underwater?’ Raffa queried with a frown. ‘You should have set the rules before we began. You’re a great swimmer. Fast,’ he approved.

‘Six brothers, remember.’ She spoke with the broadest of smiles, appreciating her brothers more in that moment than she ever had before.

‘And a competitive spirit,’ Raffa added. ‘You’ll need that to go far in your career.’

‘I won’t disappoint,’ she promised fiercely, loving the way they could switch from play to work and back again.

‘This experience will be good for you, Rose. You don’t know how strong you are until you’re tested.’

‘Prophetic words?’ she queried as Raffa placed his big hands on the side of the pool and sprang out. ‘Not up for a race, then?’ she shouted after him.

Stopping dead in his tracks, he turned. ‘Is that a challenge, señorita?’

‘You mentioned competitive spirit,’ she reminded him.

The wait of a few short seconds felt endless to Rose, and then Raffa turned slowly to face her. ‘Race me?’ he queried.

‘Why not? I race my brothers.’

‘Head start?’ he offered.

‘If you think you need it.’ Without waiting for a reply, she launched herself backwards in the water. Raffa followed and, in a stroke or two, overtook her.

‘You should have mentioned you swam for Ireland,’ he teased when they reached the far side.

‘Good race,’ Rose gasped.

When Raffa sprang out, he dipped down again to take hold of her hand.

‘Thank you,’ she said as he hauled her out of the pool as if she weighed nothing.

‘You’re an excellent swimmer,’ he remarked as he tossed a towel in her direction.

‘And you’re an excellent liar. You beat me by half a pool’s length.’

‘Only because I was going slowly,’ Raffa teased, with a look that heated her from the inside out.

‘I’m challenging you to a rematch,’ she shouted after him.

‘I look forward to it.’

‘So long as you don’t allow the result of that swim-off to affect your judgement when it comes to my job?’

‘I enjoy swimming with you,’ he said, displaying the power in his formidable torso as he opened his arms wide. ‘We can have that race any time you like.’

‘I’ll take you up on that,’ Rose promised.

He grinned.

‘This is a fabulous way to spend your time,’ she remarked as they settled down on the sunbeds.

‘It is a great way to travel,’ Raffa agreed. ‘Efficient,’ he concluded with a thoughtful nod.

An incredulous laugh burst out of her. ‘Only a billionaire could say that. The rest of us catch the bus, or hope it doesn’t rain when we take the bike out of the shed.’

She was never quite sure how far she could push it, and it was a relief when Raffa laughed too.

Seeing his life through Rose’s eyes was like seeing it through a new and extraordinary prism. As he followed her gaze across the pristine deck, he noticed, for perhaps the first time, what she meant. Their surroundings were spectacular. And so was she. Unaffected by wealth or status, Rose was one of those truly rare things: a very nice person. And as such, he should give her a swerve. There was too much darkness inside him, too much unresolved anger and grief. Bad things happened to people he cared about, and it would be ridiculously easy to become involved with such an intriguing and attractive woman.

Was Rose so different beneath the surface?Didn’t she have shadows too?

He wouldn’t add to them. ‘Dinner’s at eight o’clock sharp,’ he reminded her.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there.’

He held her stare a dangerous beat too long, before springing up and walking away. ‘I have business calls to make,’ he called over his shoulder.

‘And I have swotting up to do, in case you feel like testing me this evening on the names of all those people you want me to meet.’

‘Later,’ he confirmed.

She watched Raffa disappear down the companionway and had to resist the urge to chase after him, but that would be entirely unprofessional and, thankfully, sensible Rose knew it.

Back in her own suite, she took a shower then tugged on jeans and a top before sitting down at the desk to glance over the notes she’d made. She was usually a fast study, but that was before Raffa invaded her mind.

I must not screw this up.

The words banged about in her head. It would soon be eight o’clock, but the touch of Raffa’s hand on hers when he’d helped her out of the pool with a grip so firm and sure and safe... And with that look in his eyes that had been the complete opposite of safe. She must not screw this up, indeed!

The next problem was not what to wear. The contents of Rose’s luxurious dressing room might be tempting, but temptation was the last thing she needed tonight. Securing her hair in a sensible ponytail at the nape of her neck, she considered doing without make-up. After all, what was make-up but cheese in a mousetrap, when the look she should be aiming for was dry biscuit? But Adena had worked so hard to make sure Rose lacked for nothing. It would be churlish to throw those efforts back in her friend’s face. Adena would be hungry to hear about everything...including the high-end products still in their cellophane wrappers.

A flick of mascara, and some nude lipstick later, and Rose was ready to meet her fate.

Glancing at her phone out of habit, she grimaced and shut the door again. The press was still discussing the mystery woman seen dancing with ‘The World’s Most Eligible Bachelor’ at his sister’s wedding. Gossip had already identified the woman as none other than Rose Kelly, a groom from Ireland who worked in Raffa Acosta’s stable. ‘The deadly Acosta charm works its magic again.’

‘Not on me,’ Rose pledged out loud, but she couldn’t resist reading on.

‘Yet another willing victim sacrificing herself on the altar of lust. And who could blame her?’ the journalist asked archly.

Rose wasn’t given to cursing. She heard enough of that language at home, but tonight she made an exception. Had Raffa read this too? Were these few column inches in the press all that her hard work added up to? It was naive to think she could keep the encounter with Raffa at the wedding a secret when everyone with a phone was an amateur paparazzo, but to suggest she’d jump into bed with a man simply because he was sex on two hard-muscled legs was...

Not going to happen, Rose determined as she smoothed the skirt of her serviceable suit.

Worse luck.