The Rumours Collection

‘Enough about me,’ she said, pushing her wine glass away. ‘Tell me about your work. What made you go into forensic accounting?’

‘I was always good at maths,’ he said. ‘But straight accounting wasn’t enough for me. I was drawn to the challenge of uncovering complicated financial systems. It’s a bit like breaking a code. I find it satisfying.’

‘And clearly financially rewarding,’ Miranda said.

He gave a slight movement of his lips that might have been considered a smile. ‘I do okay.’

He was being overly modest, Miranda thought. He didn’t brandish his wealth as some people did. There were no private jets, Italian sports cars and luxurious holidays all over the globe; he had invested his money wisely in property and shares and gave a considerable amount to charity. Not that he made that public. She had only heard about it via her brother Julius, who was also known for his philanthropy.

Just as they were leaving the restaurant, once Leandro had paid the bill, a party of people came towards them from down the lane. Miranda wouldn’t have taken much notice except a woman of about thirty or so peeled away from the group to approach Leandro.

‘Leandro?’ she said. ‘Fancy running into you here! I haven’t heard from you for a while. I’ve come over for a wedding of a friend. Are you here on business?’

‘How are you?’

Leandro gave the young woman a kiss on both cheeks. ‘Fine. You?’

The woman eyed Miranda. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ she asked Leandro with a glinting look.

‘Miranda, this is Nicole Holmes,’ he said. ‘We worked for the same accounting firm before I left to go out on my own. Nicole, this is Miranda Ravensdale.’

Nicole’s perfectly shaped brows lifted. ‘As in the infamous Ravensdales?’ she said.

Miranda gave a tight smile. ‘Pleased to meet you, Nicole.’

Nicole’s gaze travelled over Miranda in an assessing, sizing-up manner common to some women when they encountered someone they presumed was competition. ‘I’ve been reading all about your father’s secret love-child in the papers and gossip mags,’ she said. ‘Have you met your new sister yet?’

Miranda felt the muscles in her spine tighten like concrete. ‘Not yet.’

Nicole glanced at Leandro. ‘So are you two...?’ She left the sentence hanging suggestively.

‘No,’ Leandro said. ‘We’re old friends.’

Miranda knew it was silly of her to be feeling piqued that he hadn’t made their relationship sound a little more exciting. But the woman was clearly an old flame of his, by the way she kept giving him the eye. Why couldn’t he have pretended they were seeing each other? Or was he hoping for a little for-old-times’-sake tryst with Nicole? The thought of Leandro bringing someone like Nicole back to the villa made Miranda’s stomach churn. Nothing against Nicole, but surely he could do better than that? Nicole seemed...hard—too streetwise to be sensitive. But maybe that was all he wanted, Miranda thought. Sex without sensitivity. Without strings. Without attachment.

‘So what are you doing in Nice?’ Nicole said.

‘I’m seeing to some family business,’ Leandro said.

Nicole’s green eyes met Miranda’s. ‘And you’re helping him?’

‘Erm...yes,’ Miranda said.

Nicole turned her cat’s gaze back on to Leandro. ‘How about we meet for a drink while you’re here?’ she said. ‘I’m here another couple of days. Name the time and the place. I’m pretty flexible.’

I just bet you are, Miranda thought with a savage twist of jealousy deep in her gut.

‘I’ll give you a call tomorrow,’ Leandro said. ‘Where are you staying?’

‘At Le Negresco.’ Nicole lifted her hand in a girlish fingertip wave as she backed away to join her friends who were waiting for her at the end of the lane. ‘I’ll be seeing you.’

Miranda waited until Nicole and her cronies had disappeared before she turned to Leandro with a look of undiluted disgust. ‘Really?’ she said.

He looked down at her with his customary frown. ‘What’s wrong?’

She blew out a breath. ‘I swear to God I will never understand men. What do you see in her? No, don’t answer that. I saw the size of her breasts. Are they real? And is she really blonde or did it come out of a bottle?’

Leandro’s frown softened. ‘You’re jealous.’

Miranda cast him a haughty glare. ‘Jealous? Seriously? Is that what you think?’

‘She’s just someone I hang out with occasionally.’

‘Oh, I understand,’ she said with icy disdain. ‘A friend with benefits.’

‘You disapprove?’

Miranda didn’t want to sound like a Sunday school teacher from the last century but the thought of him hooking up with Nicole made her insides twist into painful knots. ‘It’s none of my business what you do. I’d just appreciate it if you’d spare me the indignity of having to hear your seduction routine while I’m under the same roof.’

His expression didn’t change. He could have been sitting at a poker tournament but she still got the feeling he was amused by her reaction. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I never bring women like Nicole home. That’s what hotels are for.’

Miranda swung away. ‘I don’t want to hear about it.’

He walked alongside her. ‘Do you lecture Jake like this?’ he said after they had gone a few paces.

‘No, because Jake isn’t like you,’ she said. ‘You’re different. You have class—or so I thought.’

‘I’m sorry for being such a bitter disappointment.’

Miranda flashed him a glare. ‘Will you stop it?’

His look was guileless. ‘Stop what?’

‘You’re laughing at me. I know you are.’

He reached out and gently tucked an escaping tendril of her hair back behind her ear. ‘It’s just sex, ma petite. No one is hurting anyone.’

Miranda’s breath caught in her throat. His fingers had left the skin at the back of her ear tingling. Was he as tender with a casual lover? Did he touch that woman Nicole as if she were a precious piece of porcelain? Or was it wham, bam, thank you, mam? ‘How long have you been—’ she put her fingers up in air quotes ‘—seeing her?’

‘A year or two.’

A year or two? Did that mean he was serious about her? Miranda had always got the impression he was a casual dater. But if he’d been seeing Nicole for that long surely it must mean he was serious about her? Was he in love with her? He hadn’t looked like a man in love. He had kissed Nicole in a perfunctory way, and on the cheeks, not on the lips. He hadn’t even hugged her. ‘That seems a long time to be seeing someone,’ she said. ‘Does that mean you’re thinking of—?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s not that sort of relationship.’

‘What if she falls in love with you?’ Miranda said. ‘What then?’

‘Nicole knows the rules.’

‘How often do you see her?’ Miranda didn’t really want to know. ‘Weekly? Monthly?’

‘When it’s convenient.’

She could feel her lip curling and her insides tightening as if an invisible hand was gripping her intestines. ‘So, how often is it convenient? Once a week? Twice a month? Every couple of months?’

‘I don’t keep a tally, if that’s what you’re asking,’ he said. ‘It’s not an exclusive relationship.’

Miranda couldn’t believe he was living his life in such a shallow manner. He was worth far more than a quick phone call to hook up. Didn’t he realise how much he was short-changing himself? Didn’t he want more for his life? More emotional intimacy? A deeper connection other than the physical? A casual fling every now and again might have been fine while he was young, but what about as he got older? He was thirty-three years old. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life alone? What about the women he dated? Didn’t they want more? How could they not want more when he embodied everything most women wanted?

‘Don’t you have any idea of how attractive you are to women?’ Miranda said.

His dark eyes were unreadable. ‘Am I attractive to you?’

She took a hitching breath, not quite able to hold his gaze. ‘I—I don’t think of you that way. You’re like...like a brother to me.’

He brought her chin up so she had to meet his gaze. ‘I’m not feeling like a brother right now. And I have a feeling you’re not feeling anything like a sister.’

Miranda swallowed. Was she that transparent? Could he see how much of a struggle it was to keep her gaze away from the temptation of his mouth? Could he sense how hard it was keeping her commitment to Mark secure when he looked at her like that? With that smouldering gaze burning through every layer of her resolve like a blowtorch on glacial ice? She sent her tongue out to moisten her sandstone-dry lips and saw his gaze hone in on its passage, as if pulled by a magnet.

She watched spellbound as his mouth lowered towards hers as if in slow motion. There was plenty of time for her to draw back, plenty of time to put some distance between them, but somehow she couldn’t get the message through to her addled brain.

She gave a breathless, almost soundless sigh as his lips touched hers. A touch down as soft as fairy feet sent a hot wave of need through her entire body until she felt a shudder go through her from head to toe and back again. She made another helpless noise at the back of her throat as she wound her arms up around his neck, pressing closer, pressing to get more of his firm mouth before it got too far away.

His lips came down harder this time, moving over hers in a possessive manner that made her knees weaken and her spine buckle. His tongue stroked the seam of her mouth, commanding she open to him, and with another little gasp she welcomed him inside. He came in search of her tongue, exploring every corner of her mouth with shockingly intimate, breath-taking expertise. She felt the scrape of his stubble against her chin as he shifted position. Felt the potent stirring of his body against her belly. Felt her own blood racing as desire swept through her like a runaway fire.

Miranda had felt desire as a teenager but it had been nothing like this. That had been a trickle. This was a flood. A tidal wave. A tsunami. This was adult desire. A rampant, clawing need that refused to be assuaged with anything but full possession. She could feel the urgent pleas of her body: the restless ache deep in her core, the tingling of her breasts where they were pressed up hard against his chest.

Kissing in a dark lane wasn’t enough. No way was it enough. She wanted to put her hands on his flesh—his gloriously adult, male healthy flesh—to feel his body moving over hers with passionate intent. To feel him deep inside her where she ached the most.

But suddenly he pulled away from her.

Miranda felt momentarily off-balance without his arms and body to support her. What was she doing, kissing him like some sex-starved desperado? Her whole body was shaking with the rush of pleasure his mouth had evoked—hot sparks of pleasure that reverberated in the lower regions of her body. Pulsing, throbbing sparks of forbidden, traitorous pleasure. How could she have let it happen? Why had she let it happen? But, rather than show how undone she was, she took refuge in defensive pride. ‘Happy now?’ she said. ‘Proved your point?’

He stood a couple of feet away, one of his hands pushing back through the thick pelt of his hair. It should have come as some small compensation to her that he looked as shell-shocked as she felt but somehow it didn’t.

Had he found kissing her distasteful? Unexciting? Not quite up to standard? A host of insecurities flooded through her, leaving a storm of hot colour pooling in her cheeks.

She hadn’t kissed anyone but Mark. He had been her first and her last. Their kisses had been nice. Clumsy at first, but then nice. The sex...well, it had seemed to be okay for Mark, but she had found it hard to get her needs met. They’d both been each other’s first lover so his inexperience and her shyness hadn’t exactly helped.

Then the chemotherapy had made things especially awkward. She hadn’t always cared for the smell of Mark’s breath or the fact that he was ill most of the time. It had made her feel guilty, being so missish. After Mark’s diagnosis she had shied away from sharing her body with him because in her youthful ignorance she had thought she might catch cancer. She had compensated in other ways, pleasuring him manually when he felt up to it. Her guilt over feeling like that had compounded—solidified—her decision to remain loyal to him.

But such inexperience left her stranded when it came to dealing with a man as experienced as Leandro. He was used to women who played the game. Used to hooking up for the sake of convenience before moving on. He wouldn’t want the complication of tangling with a technical virgin. Had he sensed her inexperience? Had she somehow communicated it with her response to his kiss?

Leandro let out a long, slow breath as if recalibrating himself. ‘That was probably not such a great idea on my part.’

Miranda pulled at her lip with her teeth. ‘Was I that bad?’

His brows drew closer together. ‘No, of course not. How could you think that?’

She gave a one-shoulder shrug. ‘I’ve only kissed one person before. I’m out of practice.’

He studied her for a long moment. ‘Do you miss it?’

‘Miss what?’

‘Kissing, touching, sex—being with someone.’

Miranda resumed walking and he fell into step beside her at a polite arm’s length distance. ‘I don’t think about it. I made a promise and as far as I’m concerned that’s the end of it.’

It wasn’t the end of it, Miranda thought as she got into bed half an hour later with her body still madly craving the touch and heat of his. She put her fingers to her mouth, touching where his warm lips had moved so expertly against hers. Her mouth felt different somehow. Softer, fuller, awakened to needs she had ignored for so long.

Needs she would continue to ignore even if it took every ounce of will power she possessed.

CHAPTER FIVE

LEANDRO SPENT AN hour or two over some accounts and files he’d brought with him but he couldn’t concentrate. He closed the laptop and got to his feet. Miranda had gone to bed hours ago and everything that was male in him had wanted to join her. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He still didn’t know why he had. He had been so determined to keep his distance and then it had just...happened. He had been the one to make the first move. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from leaning down to the lure of her beautiful, soft, inviting mouth. The taste of her, so sweet, warm and giving, had shaken him. Rocked him. Unsettled him.

Miranda had seemed upset at his on-off relationship with Nicole. But that didn’t mean he had the right to kiss her. She was just being protective in a sisterly sort of way.

Sisterly? There was nothing sisterly about the way Miranda had kissed him back. He had felt every tremble in her body as she’d leaned into him. Her gorgeous mouth had given back as good as he had served. The tangled heat of their tongues had made his body respond like a hormone-driven teenager. Since when did he lose control like that? What was he doing even thinking about doing more than kissing her?

Leandro stood at the window of the study and looked out at the neglected garden. The moon illuminated the overgrown shapes of the hedges, giving them a grotesque appearance. He couldn’t see Rosie’s statue from here but knowing it was there made the weight of his grief feel like an anchor hanging off his heart.

Would it never ease? This awful sense of guilt that plagued him day and night?

Would packing up Rosie’s room bring closure or would it make things even worse? Handling the toys she had played with, touching the clothes she had worn, packing them off to where? Charity? For some stranger to use or to throw out when they were finished with them?

Leandro couldn’t keep her things. Why would he? He would have no use for them and he didn’t want to turn into another version of his father, making a shrine that in no way would help to heal the past.

It was time to move on.

He opened the door to Rosie’s room and stood there for a moment. For the two years after Rosie’s disappearance he had come to her room during the night. Every night. He had stood in exactly this spot in the doorway, hoping, praying, he would find her neat little shape in the princess bed. That he would see one of her starfish hands resting on the pillow near her little angel face with its halo of dark hair. That he would hear the soft snuffle of her breathing and see the rise and fall of her chest.

He remembered the last time he had stood here. The night before he had been taken to England to live with his mother. He had stood in this doorway with a tsunami of emotion trapped in his chest.

Something in him had died along with Rosie. He could feel the place where it had been. It was a hollow space inside him where hope used to be.

The moon shone a beam over the empty bed where Flopsy the rabbit had slumped forward from his propped up position against the pillows. Leandro moved across the carpet and gently straightened the toy so he was back between the pink elephant and the teddy bear.

He turned from the bed, his heart all but stopping when he saw a small figure framed in the doorway. He blinked and then realised it was Miranda, dressed in cream-coloured satin pyjamas. ‘What are you doing up at this hour?’ he said, surprised his voice came out so even when his heart was still thumping like a mad thing.

Even though it was dark, except for the moonlight, he could see the twin streaks of colour over her pale cheeks. ‘I couldn’t sleep...’ she said. ‘I came down for a glass of water and I thought I heard something.’

‘You weren’t frightened?’

She captured her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Only a little.’

Leandro could feel his body calculating the distance between their bodies—every organ, every cell registering her presence like radar picking up a signal. He didn’t trust himself to be near her. Not since he’d kissed her. God, he had to stop thinking about that kiss.

He could see every line of her slim body beneath the close-fitting drape of the satin pyjamas she was wearing. He could smell the freesia scent of her perfume. He could still taste her in his mouth—that alluring sweetness and hint of innocence that made him hard as stone. Her auburn hair was all mussed up, as if she had been tossing and turning in bed. He wanted to slide those silky strands through his fingers and to breathe in their clean, fresh fragrance. Her skin was luminous in the moonlight, her toffee-brown eyes shining like wet paint. He surged with blood when she moistened her mouth with the quick dart of her tongue. Was she remembering their kiss? Reliving it the way he had been doing for the last couple of hours? Feeling the desire licking along her veins as it had along his until he was almost crazy with it?

‘Do you want a glass of milk or something?’ he said, leading the way out of the room.

She screwed up her mouth like a child refusing to take medicine. ‘I’m not much of a milk drinker.’

‘Something stronger, then?’

‘No, I’ll just head back to bed,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you.’

‘You weren’t disturbing me.’ He let out a short sigh as he closed the door behind him. ‘I was just...remembering.’

Her eyes glistened as if she was about to cry. ‘It must be so terribly hard for you, being here again.’

Leandro knew he shouldn’t touch her. Touching her was dangerous. Touching her made it harder to keep his resolve in place. But even so his hand reached out and gently tucked a flyaway hair back behind the shell of her ear. He heard her draw in a sharp little breath, her mouth parting slightly, her eyes flicking downwards to his mouth. ‘Don’t tear yourself up about that kiss,’ he said.

Her eyes skittered away from his. ‘I’m not. I’ve forgotten all about it.’

He inched up her chin, holding her gaze with his. ‘I can’t stop thinking about it.’

She rolled her lips together. Blinked. Swallowed. Blinked again. ‘You shouldn’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s not right.’

He slid his hand along her cheek, cradling her face as his thumb moved over the silky skin of her face. ‘It felt pretty right to me.’ Which was the problem in a big, fat, inconvenient nutshell. It felt so damn right he wanted to do it again.

And not just kiss her. He wanted her like he had never wanted anyone. He felt it in his body now—the thunder of his blood heading south. The tingle in his thighs made him want to bring her close enough for her body to feel him. To feel the need he had for her. The hunger that would not go away now it had been awakened. Would she pull away or would she lean in like she had when he’d kissed her earlier? Would her body press urgently against his? Would she make those breathless little gasps of approval as his mouth showed her what it was like to kiss a full-blooded man?

She swept her tongue over her lips in a nervous manner. ‘Just because something feels right doesn’t make it right.’

Leandro moved his hand on her face to brush the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. ‘Are you seriously going to spend the rest of your life being celibate?’ he said.

A glitter of hauteur shone in her gaze as it held his. ‘I find that imminently preferable to hooking up with people for no other reason than to slake animal lust.’

Was it just sisterly, friendly concern or was she jealous? ‘Ah, so Nicole is an issue for you, then?’

Her mouth tightened to a flat disapproving line. ‘It’s no business of mine if you call her and sleep with her. You can call and sleep with anyone you like.’

‘But you would hate it if I did.’

She stepped back from him and folded her arms across the front of her body, reminding him of a starchy schoolmistress from his childhood. ‘Don’t you want more out of life than that?’ she said.

‘Don’t you?’

She pursed her lips. ‘We’re not talking about me.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Because talking about you makes you feel uncomfortable, doesn’t it? You’re happier dishing out the advice to everyone else while you turn a blind eye to your own needs.’

‘You know nothing about my needs,’ she flashed back.

He raised one of his brows. ‘Are you sure about that, Sleeping Beauty?’ he said. ‘I can still taste those needs in my mouth.’

Her cheeks flamed with colour. ‘Why are you doing this?’

He took her by the shoulders gently but firmly. ‘You’re living a lie, Miranda. You know you are. A big, fat lie. You want more but you’re too afraid to grow up and ask for it.’

She pulled away from him with a twist of her body, glaring at him. ‘Did Julius put you up to this?’

Leandro frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘He gave me one of his lectures recently,’ she said. ‘He said the same thing you said—that Mark would’ve moved on if the tables were turned. It’s kind of telling, how you’re suddenly taking an interest in me after ignoring me for all these years.’

‘I haven’t been ignoring you.’ Far from it, he thought wryly. His awareness of her had been gradual, admittedly. He had always seen her as his mates’ little sister. But over time he had watched her blossom from an awkward teenager into a beautiful and accomplished young woman. He noticed the way her creamy cheeks blushed when she was embarrassed, especially for some reason when he was around. He noticed her body; how it made his feel when she was in the same room as him. He noticed her slightest movement: the shy lick of her lips; the downward cast of her gaze; the nervous swallow; the sinking of her small white teeth into the blood-red pillow of her lower lip.

Leandro came to where she was standing with her arms folded. ‘I’m not ignoring you now,’ he said, watching as the dark ink of her pupils flared.

She closed her eyes in a slow blink. ‘Don’t...’

‘Don’t what?’

The tip of her tongue sneaked out to moisten her lips. ‘You’re making this so hard for me...’

‘Because you want to know what it feels like to be with a man instead of a boy, don’t you?’ Leandro said. ‘That’s why you kissed me the way you did. You didn’t kiss like some shy little teenager who didn’t know what she was doing. You kissed like a hot-blooded, passionate woman because that’s who you really are underneath that prim and proper, twin-set-and-pearls façade you insist on hiding behind.’