‘He’s a bastard.’
‘Yes.’
His hand moved to her chin, touching it lightly. He looked as though he was concentrating hard. ‘You’re—’ His eyes dropped to her lips, lingered there, and though it was only a glance, it might as well have been a heady, intimate touch, for the way warmth spread through her.
‘I’m…?’ she prompted, but breathlessly, as though her lungs could hardly fill with air.
He closed his eyes then, the lashes forming thick, dark half moons against his tanned skin.
‘Forget it.’ His hand dropped away, and when he opened his eyes, determination was visible in their depths. ‘I didn’t bring you here to seduce you. You have boundaries and I intend to respect them. Let’s go get something to eat.’
Phoebe’s heart dropped to her toes even as it exploded in her chest.
‘You have boundaries and I intend to respect them.’
Then kiss me!she wanted to shout.Kiss me until my knees are weak and I forget I’ve ever, ever been hurt! Kiss me because when you kiss me everything makes a terrifying kind of sense,on a fundamental level. Kiss me now; kiss me and keep kissing me.
But she said none of those things, and Octavio stepped backwards and then walked in off the deck, leaving Phoebe alone with the fragrant sea-breeze.
‘There will be photographers,’ he warned, as they approached a sleek black sports car parked out front of the beachy holiday cottage. ‘Not specifically for us, yet, but because this town is the kind of place celebrities come. Don’t be surprised if there’s a lens pointed at you.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Great. Sounds like fun.’
‘You get used to it.’
‘Really? Aren’t we just going to get breakfast? That’s not particularly newsworthy.’
‘You’d be surprised.’
She sat in the front passenger seat and before she could do it herself, Octavio was reaching across Phoebe for the seat belt and sliding it into position. His hands brushed her belly and Phoebe’s breath hissed between her teeth. She jerked her gaze to his, wondering if he’d felt it. The electric shock. The current of awareness.
‘Do you mind if I…’ He held one hand towards her stomach.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t mind. They’re your babies, too.’
‘But it’s still your stomach.’
‘Just a home right now,’ she said with a shrug.
He pressed his palm to her side and one of the babies kicked immediately. Phoebe laughed, her eyes meeting Octavio’s, who looked utterly shocked. ‘Was that—a baby?’
‘Yes.’
He swore under his breath. Another kick.
‘That baby is active. I think they like your touch.’
She had meant it as a simple observation, but she heard the words and wondered how they’d sounded to Octavio. Like an invitation? Did they prove that she was every bit as needy as she actually was?
‘Then I might have to touch more.’
‘It could be your voice, too,’ she murmured.
‘Talk, touch. We are here for two more nights—let’s experiment.’
Her heart raced. Two nights? It seemed like an eternity and nowhere near enough.
They had to drive through a heavily fortified security gate that was lined on either side by a fence at least four metres high, concealed by overgrown trees but nonetheless menacing and effective. Once through it, on the short road to town, Octavio spoke about the surroundings, the village, making conversation almost as if they were friends. It was so unexpected that when he pulled the car to a stop in the main street of a charming, ancient fishing port, she turned to him and blurted, ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’
