The Rumours Collection

Her mouth flattened to a thin line of white. ‘You know something?’ she said. ‘I think I preferred it when you ignored me. I’m going to bed. Good night.’

Leandro muttered a stiff curse as she stalked off down the shadowed corridor until she disappeared from sight.

Miranda got to work on the collection first thing. She sorted the paintings into different sections for proper packing and shipping. She had already consulted her associates on one or two paintings that were outside her range of experience. By lunchtime she had done half the collection but that still left the other half, as well as the antiques.

She hadn’t seen or heard from Leandro since late last night. She had gone to bed in a fit of temper over him pushing her to admit her needs. Needs she was perfectly happy ignoring, thank you very much. Or she had been, until he’d come along and stopped ignoring her. Grr! Was that why he had kissed her in the lane? Just to prove a point? To show her how it felt to kiss a man?

Well, she knew now. It felt good. It felt amazing. It felt so damn amazing she didn’t know how she had managed to keep out of his arms last night. She had come close to throwing herself at him. Terrifyingly, shamelessly close. She had looked at his mouth and imagined it pressed on hers, his tongue doing all those wicked things it had done before, and the way hers had responded so wantonly.

Miranda didn’t even know if he was still in the villa or whether he had left to meet Nicole. The thought of him with the other woman was like a stone in the pit of her belly.

Would he tell Nicole of the pain he held inside him? Would he share the agony of his childhood? The terrible loss he had experienced? The guilt and torment he still felt? Would he tell her about the estrangement he had suffered from his father and the distant relationship he had with his mother?

Or would they just have monkey sex without any emotional connection at all?

Miranda decided to get out of the villa for a while before she went mad over-thinking about Leandro’s sex life. She bought some things for dinner and stopped for a coffee in a café that overlooked the stunning blue of the ocean. It was another mild day with soap-sud clouds gathering on the horizon. Although the late summer crowds had well and truly gone, she was surprised to see only a couple of people swimming in the sea, for the water temperature at this time of year was warmer than in many parts of England in high summer.

Miranda wondered exactly where along the shore Rosie had gone missing. The villa was only a few blocks back from the seafront. She didn’t know whether she should ask Leandro to show her. Would it be too painful for him to revisit that tragic spot?

As she walked back to the villa Miranda passed a mother with a baby strapped in a pouch against her chest with a little boy of about two in a pushchair. The baby was sound asleep with its little downy head cradled against its mother’s chest. The little toddler was holding a brightly coloured toy and smiled at Miranda as she navigated her way past on the narrow footpath.

Miranda resisted the urge to turn and look back at the little family. When she’d been in her teens, seeing mums with kids hadn’t been an issue. Even in the weeks and months after Mark had died she had put the thought out of her mind.

But now every time she saw a mother with a baby she felt a pang, like a nagging toothache.

She would never have a baby of her own.

Somehow that had seemed like a romantic sacrifice when she’d been sixteen, sitting at Mark’s bedside with his life draining away in front of her eyes. Now at twenty-three she felt as if the promise was a prison sentence—one without any possibility of parole. How was she going to feel at thirty-three? Forty-three? Fifty?

Miranda pushed the thought to the back wall of her mind. There were other things she had to concentrate on just now. Like how to get Leandro’s father’s collection safely shipped to London and the villa packed up ready for sale.

The villa was quiet when Miranda came in. She put her shopping away and then went up the stairs, but instead of going to her room as she had intended she found herself turning to Rosie’s instead.

She opened the door and stood there for a moment. The toys were as they had been last night. The bed was still neatly made, all Rosie’s things still on the dressing table.

Leandro had intimated he wanted the room to be packed up. Should Miranda do it to save him the pain? Could she do it?

Miranda wandered over to the cherry-wood wardrobe and, opening it, looked at the array of neat little hangers with toddler clothes. She ran her fingers along the different fabrics, wondering how any parent could ever navigate the loss of a child. Was there any way of dealing with such overwhelming grief? No wonder Leandro’s father had left Rosie’s things as they were. Packing them away was so final. So permanent.

Miranda closed the wardrobe with a sigh.

Leandro could smell something delicious as soon as he came into the villa. It was such a homely smell it took him aback for a moment. It had been a long time since he had felt as if this place was anything like a home. But with the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen and Miranda moving about he got a sense of what the villa could one day be again with the right family. He imagined children coming in from the garden, as he and Rosie had done, their faces shining with exertion and sunshine. He could picture the evening meal with the family gathered around the kitchen table or in the dining room, everyone relating how their day had gone, the parents looking fondly at their children.

His parents hadn’t been one-hundred percent happy with each other but they had loved him and Rosie.

Life had seemed so normal and then suddenly it wasn’t.

Leandro walked into the kitchen to see Miranda popping something in the oven. She was wearing a cute candy-striped apron around her waist and her hair was tied up in a knot on top of her head. Her cheeks were flushed from the oven but they went a shade darker when she saw him standing there.

She swiped a strand of hair back from her face. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’

‘You didn’t have to cook,’ he said. ‘We could’ve eaten out or got takeaway.’

‘I like cooking.’ She rinsed her hands under the tap and dried them on a tea towel. ‘So how was your date with Nicole? I presume that’s where you’ve been? Did it all go according to plan?’

‘We had a drink.’

Miranda’s neat brows lifted. ‘Just a drink?’

He held her gaze for a long beat, watching as a host of emotions flitted across her face. ‘Yes. Just a drink.’

‘You must be losing your touch.’

‘Maybe.’

She began to fuss over a salad she was making on the counter. ‘I’ve packed up about half of your father’s paintings. I’ve still got some research to do on the others. I’m waiting to hear back from one of my colleagues. I should have it more or less done by the end of next week, maybe even earlier. I’ve got the shipping people on standby but I’ll need you to authorise the insurance.’

Leandro felt something in his chest slip at the thought of her leaving earlier than he had planned. Had he pushed her too far? Made her feel uncomfortable? All he had wanted to do was make her see how she was throwing her life away... Well, maybe that wasn’t all he wanted to do. He couldn’t get the memory of their kiss out of his head. He kept reliving it. Kept feeling the sensual energy of it in his body. Every time he looked at her mouth he felt a spark fire in his groin. Did she feel it too? Was that why she was talking so quickly and keeping her eyes well away from his? ‘Do you want me to change your flight back home?’

She caught her lip with her teeth, her gaze still avoiding his as she fiddled with the salad she was preparing. ‘Do you want me to leave early?’

‘No, but what do you want?’

She reached for an avocado and pressed it to see if it was ripe. ‘I thought I’d stay on. Help you with the clean-up and stuff.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘I know, but I’d like to.’

‘Why?’

She still actively avoided his gaze. ‘I’m enjoying being out of London and not just because of the weather. I can actually walk down the street here without anyone bothering me.’

‘Always a bonus, I guess.’

Her cheeks went a faint shade of pink as she reached for some cherry tomatoes. ‘Will you be seeing Nicole again before she leaves?’

Leandro couldn’t help teasing her. ‘For a drink, you mean?’

‘For...whatever.’

‘No.’

Her brow puckered as she looked at him. ‘Why not?’

Leandro hadn’t intended to resume his on-off relationship with Nicole in any case but he found it amusing to see Miranda struggle with the notion of him having a sex life. Was she just being a prude or was she actually jealous? Was she envisaging having a fling with him? Maybe she thought she could get away with it while she was away from home. Was that why she kept looking at him with that hungry look in her eyes? Was she rethinking her commitment to her dead boyfriend? Was she finally accepting it was time to move on and live life in the present instead of in the past? Could her fuss over Leandro’s love life be a sign she was finally ready to take that first step?

The thought of exploring the spark between them was tempting.

More than tempting.

How long could he ignore the chemistry that swirled in the air when he was in the same room as her? But having a fling with her? How would he explain it to her brothers? It was a line he had sworn he would never cross. Not that he had ever discussed it with Julius or Jake. He hadn’t even thought of Miranda that way. He wasn’t sure when things had changed—when he had changed—but he had started to notice her quiet beauty. The way she moved. The way she spoke. The care and concern she expressed to those she loved. He had held back, kept his distance, not wanting to compromise his relationship with her brothers, or indeed with her.

And yet now he had kissed her. Touched her. Wanted her. How could he simply ignore the attraction he felt for her? Did he want to keep on ignoring it?

Could he ignore it?

Leandro gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘It’s time to move on.’

Her frown of disapproval deepened. ‘So she’s past her use-by date?’

‘It’s how it works these days.’

‘I know, but it sounds pretty clinical if you ask me,’ Miranda said. ‘What if she was secretly hoping for more?’

He reached across for a piece of carrot. ‘I make a point of never offering it in the first place.’

‘But what if you change your mind?’

He gave her a pointed look. ‘Like you might, do you mean?’

Her eyes fell away from his as she put the last touches to the salad. ‘I’m not going to change my mind.’

‘You sure about that, ma belle?’

Her small, neat chin came up. ‘Yes.’

Leandro gave her another slanted smile. ‘You’re a determined little thing, aren’t you?’

Miranda handed him the salad bowl. ‘You’d better believe it.’

CHAPTER SIX

MIRANDA HAD BEEN asleep for a couple of hours when she woke with a sudden start. Had she heard something? She lay there for a moment, wondering if she had been dreaming that plaintive cry. Her sleep had been somewhat restless. Her visit to Rosie’s room earlier that day, as well as seeing the mother with her baby and toddler, had made Miranda’s slumbering mind busy with nonsensical narratives. Had she imagined that pitiless cry? Was the villa haunted by Rosie’s ghost?

Miranda threw off the covers and padded to the door, listening with one ear for any further sound. Her heart was beating like a tattoo, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting as the old house creaked and groaned and resettled into the silence of the night.

It was impossible to go back to sleep. Even though in broad daylight she would swear she didn’t believe in anything paranormal, it was a tough call in the middle of the night with shadows and sounds she couldn’t account for. She pulled on a wrap, tied it about her waist and went out to the corridor. A shaft of pallid moonlight divided the passage. A branch of a tree scratched at the window nearest her, making her skeleton tingle inside the cage of her skin.

She tiptoed along the corridor but stopped when she got outside Leandro’s room. There was a thin band of light shining underneath the door, not bright enough to be the centre light, but more like that of a lamp. There was no sound from inside the room. No sound of a computer keyboard being tapped or the pages of a book being turned.

Just a thick cloak of silence.

‘Did you want something?’ Leandro said from behind her.

Miranda swung around with her heart hammering so loud she could hear it like a roaring in her ears. ‘Oh! I—I thought you were...someone else... I heard something. A cry. Did you hear it?’

‘It’s a cat.’

‘A c-cat?’

‘Yes, outside in the garden,’ he said. ‘There are a few strays around. I think my father must’ve been feeding them.’

Miranda rubbed her upper arms with her crossed-over hands. A cat. Of course it was a cat. How had she got herself so worked up? She didn’t even believe in ghosts and yet...and yet she had been so sure that cry had been a small child crying out. ‘Oh, right; well, then...’

Leandro looked at her keenly. ‘Are you okay?’

She forced a brief tight smile. ‘Of course.’

‘Sure?’

Miranda licked her dry lips. ‘I’d better get back to bed. Goodnight.’

He stalled her by placing a warm hand on her arm. She looked up into his shadowed face and felt her heart do another jerky somersault. She could smell the clean male scent of him, the wood and citrus blend and his own body heat that made her senses spin in dazed circles. His hair was ruffled, as if he had recently ploughed his fingers through it. It made her fingers ache to do the same, to feel those thick, silky strands against her fingertips.

His gaze was trained on her mouth. She felt the searing burn of it as if he had leaned down and pressed his sculptured lips to hers. Every nerve in her body was standing at attention, primed in anticipatory excitement.

‘I thought you might be coming to tell me you’ve changed your mind,’ he said.

She gave an involuntary swallow. ‘A-about what?’

His eyes gleamed in the darkness, the moon catching the light of desire that blazed there as surely as it did in hers. ‘About what you’ve been thinking from the moment I ran into you at that café in London.’

Miranda pulled a shutter down in her brain as she forced herself to hold his gaze. How could he possibly know what images her wayward mind kept conjuring up? How could he possibly sense the turmoil going on in her body? How could he know of the rampaging fire scorching through her veins at being this close to him? Or of the deep pulsating ache that was spreading through her thighs and pressing down between her legs? ‘I’m not thinking...that.’

His mouth took on a sardonic slant. ‘You’re a terrible liar.’

Miranda forgot to breathe as he upped her chin, stroking his thumb against the swell of her lower lip until her senses were reeling. The temptation of his tantalising touch, his alluring proximity and the needs she was desperately trying to control were like a tug of war inside her body. Every organ shifted and strained against the magnetic pull of his flesh but it was too much. It was too powerful to resist. She felt her resolve collapsing like a humpy in a hurricane.

She didn’t know who had closed that tiny space between their bodies but suddenly she was in his arms and his mouth was on hers in a passionate collision. The scrape of his stubble against her face made something slip sideways in her stomach. His deep, husky groan of pleasure as their tongues met and mated made her skin lift in delight.

Miranda couldn’t control her response to his kiss. It suddenly didn’t matter that she was supposed to be keeping her distance. Nothing mattered except tasting the warm, minty perfection of his mouth. Nothing mattered but feeling alive in his arms, feeling wanted, needed and desired. It was like a floodgate had opened up inside her. Her arms wound around his neck, her body pressed up close to the hot, hard heat of his as his lips moved with mind-blowing power on hers. She could feel the swell of his erection against her body, the exciting prospect of his potency triggering the release of intimate moisture within the secret cave of womanhood.

His tongue tangled with hers, teasing and cajoling it into seductive play with his. His arms were wrapped around her tightly, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go. Her flesh sang with the feel of him so aroused against her. It shocked her to realise how much she wanted him, how quickly it happened and how consuming it was to have the pulse of desire racing through her, skittling every sensible or rational objection out of the way.

Her mind was not in control now. Her body was on autopilot—hungry for the satiation of need. She hadn’t thought herself capable of such intense passion. Of such wanton abandon that she would be breathlessly locked in Leandro’s arms in a darkened corridor with her throat releasing little gasps and groans of encouragement as his mouth worked its breath-snatching magic on hers. How could one kiss do this to her? How could he have such sensual power over her?

His hands glided down her body, settling on her hips to keep her close to the throb of his arousal. All she could think was of how different he felt.

How adult he felt.

She could feel the swollen ridge of him against her belly, a spine-melting reminder of all that was different between them and how much she wanted to experience those differences. The intention of his body was clear—he wanted her. Her body was sending the same message back.

Miranda sent her fingers through the thickness of his hair while her mouth stayed fused to his. One of his hands moved from her hip to settle in the small of her back, bringing her even closer to the thickened heat and throbbing pulse of his body. His blood pounded against her belly, ramping up her need until she was trembling with it. Had she ever felt such a thrill of the flesh? She had never been so aware of her body and how it reacted to the promise of fulfilment. It was like discovering a part of herself she hadn’t known existed. A secret, passionate part that wanted, craved, needed. Hungered.

His mouth moved from hers to blaze a trail of fire down the sensitive skin of her neck, the sexy rasp of his stubble making her insides turn over. His tongue found the scaffold of her collarbone, dipping in and out of the shallow dish it created on her flesh. The grazing sensation of his tongue against her smooth skin made her knees loosen until she wondered if she would melt into a pool at his feet. Never had she felt such tremors course through her body. Such shudders and quakes of need that made everything inside her shake loose from its foundations.

‘I want you,’ Leandro said, his lips moving against her skin like a teasing brushstroke. ‘But you’ve probably guessed that by now.’

Miranda shivered as his mouth came back up to just behind her ear. Every nerve danced as the tip of his tongue created sensual havoc. Where was her willpower? Where was her resolve? It was swamped, enveloped by a need that was clawing at her as his lips skated over her tingling flesh. How could she say no when every cell in her body was pleading for his possession?

Was this why she had hidden behind her commitment to Mark, because of the way Leandro made her feel? The way he had always made her feel? She had always been aware of him. Of his quiet strength. Of his heart-stopping attractiveness. Of his arrant maleness that made her female flesh shiver every time he came close.

How was she supposed to resist this assault on her senses? How was she to resist this urgent, primal call of her flesh?

‘We shouldn’t be doing this...’ Her voice came out as a whispery thread that was barely audible. I shouldn’t be doing this.

Leandro nudged her mouth with his lips, not touching down this time but close enough for their breaths to mingle. ‘But you want to,’ he said. ‘I can feel it in your body. You’re trembling with it.’

Miranda tried to still the tumult in her flesh but it was like trying to keep a paper boat steady in a hot tub. How could she deny it? How could she ignore the urgings of her flesh? Her whole body vibrated with clawing need. It moved through her body like a roaring tide. She could feel the pulse of lust low in her core—the hollow ache of need refused to be ignored. Her gaze went to his mouth, her belly doing a flip-turn as she thought of those warm, firm lips on her breasts, on her inner thighs. ‘I made a promise...’

He pulled back to look at her. ‘When you were a kid, Miranda,’ he said. ‘You’re a woman now. You can’t ignore those needs. They’re normal and healthy.’

Miranda had ignored those needs for so long but it hadn’t really been all that hard to do so. She had never felt she was sacrificing anything. But now Leandro had stirred those needs into life, awakened them from a deep slumber. Sent them into a dizzying frenzy. How could she pretend they weren’t clamouring inside her body? How could she deny the primal urges of her body when his presence evoked such a storm within her flesh? A storm she could feel rumbling through her from where his hands were holding her. Burning through her skin. Searing her so she would never be able to forget his touch. Her body would always remember. Her lips would always recall the weight and pressure of his. If she were never kissed by anyone again it would be Leandro’s kiss she would remember, not Mark’s. It would be Leandro’s touch her body would recall and ache and hunger to feel again.

Would it be so wrong to indulge her senses just this once? He wasn’t offering her a relationship. He had made it clear he didn’t want the happy-ever-after. But then, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—give it to him if he wanted it.

But for this brief moment in time they could connect in a way they had never connected before.

Miranda closed the small distance between their bodies, a shockwave of awareness jolting through her at the erotic contact. She watched as desire flared in his gaze, burning with an incendiary heat that was as powerful as the backdraught of a fire. She slid her hands up the flat plane of his chest, feeling the deep thud of his heart under her palm. She knew he wouldn’t take this a step further until she had verbalised her consent. But she didn’t want to say the words. She didn’t want to own the earthy needs of her body. That would be admitting she was at the mercy of her flesh. That she was weak, frail, human.

Leandro held her gaze with the force field of his. ‘Tell me you want me.’

Miranda drew his head back down, her mouth hovering within a breath of his. ‘Kiss me.’

‘Say it, Miranda,’ he commanded.

She stepped up on tiptoe so her lips touched his, trying to distract him, to disarm him. ‘Why are we talking when we could be doing other stuff?’

He gripped her by the upper arms in a firm but gentle hold. ‘I’m not doing the other stuff until I know it’s what you want. That we’re clear on where this is going.’

Miranda looked into his implacable gaze. Desire burned in his eyes; she could feel it scorching her through her skin where his hands were cupped around her flesh. ‘It doesn’t have to go anywhere,’ she said. ‘It can just be for now.’

His ever-present frown deepened a fraction. ‘And you’d be okay with that?’

She would have to be okay. How could she say she wanted more when for all these years she had told everyone she didn’t? She had taught herself not to want more. She had blocked all thoughts of a fairy-tale romance, of being married, of one day having a baby, of raising a family with the man she loved, because the man she had loved had died.