Forbidden Seductions: His Forbidden Passion / Craving the Forbidden / Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger

‘It’s OK,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Rick’s a good pilot.’

‘I’m sure.’ Cleo licked her lips, her words tight and unconvincing. Then, forcing herself to relax, she glanced out of the window again. ‘Is—is that the island? Just there?’

She pointed and Dominic leaned forward again, forearms resting along his spread thighs, his posture unconsciously sensual. Cleo’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to the innocent bulge between his legs, and she had to force herself to look away.

Fortunately, he hadn’t appeared to notice.

‘Yeah, that’s San Clemente,’ he said, with evident pride. ‘It always looks smaller from the air.’

‘Do you think so?’ Cleo had been thinking it looked bigger than she’d expected. ‘Do you get many visitors?’

Dominic lounged back again, propping an ankle across his knee. ‘Tourists, you mean?’ And at her nod, ‘We get a few. We don’t have any high-rise hotels or casinos, stuff like that. But our visitors tend to like the beach life, and we do have some fantastic scuba-diving waters around the island.’

He was watching her again, and Cleo shifted a little nervously. ‘Do you go scuba-diving?’ she asked, and Dominic pulled a wry face.

‘When I have the time,’ he said. ‘But since the old man’s been ill, that isn’t very often.’

‘The old man?’ Cleo frowned.

‘Jacob Montoya. Our grandfather,’ he said flatly. ‘Remember?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Cleo bit her lip.

Dominic’s brows drew together then. ‘I should tell you,’ he said, ‘the Montoya Corporation is involved in a lot of different businesses. Leisure; casinos; oil. And recently we acquired a telecommunications network, that should keep the company solvent in the years to come.’

Cleo’s jaw had dropped. ‘I had no idea,’ she whispered, and Dominic expelled a weary sigh.

‘I know that,’ he said. ‘But don’t let it worry you. No one expects you to take it all in at once.’

And wasn’t that the truth? she thought unsteadily. She was having a hard time dealing with any of it. Even though the Montoyas had delayed their departure for a week to give her time to make her arrangements, it still hadn’t been enough.

Not that people hadn’t been understanding. Her head teacher, Mr Rodgers, had found her explanation quite fascinating, and he barely knew the half of it. Still, with his help, she had been able to persuade the local education authority that this was an emergency, and they’d given her a couple of weeks’ unpaid leave.

Norah had been helpful, too, offering to go shopping with her, encouraging her to see this journey as the opportunity it really was.

‘You don’t know how I envy you,’ she’d said, refusing Cleo’s offer to pay her share of their expenses while she was away. ‘You make the most of it, girl. You may never get a chance like this again.’

But, in spite of numerous good wishes, Cleo’s actual involvement felt no easier. She was out of her comfort zone, she thought. Not to mention—literally and figuratively—out of her depth.

Suddenly aware that the silence in the cabin had become deafening, Cleo rushed impulsively into speech.

‘Do—do you work for your grandfather?’

‘Our grandfather,’ Dominic amended drily. Then, with a lift of his shoulders, ‘I guess I do.’

‘What he means is, he runs the corporation,’ broke in another voice sardonically. ‘Don’t let him fool you, Cleo. Without Dominic, there’d be no Montoya Corporation at all.’

Dominic got abruptly to his feet. Returning to where he’d left his laptop, he began stuffing the rest of his belongings into his bag.

‘Did you speak to Mom?’ he asked, the coolness of his tone an indication that he wasn’t pleased with her, and Serena pulled a face at Cleo before answering him.

‘Uh—yes,’ she said, as if there was any doubt about the matter. ‘She says the old man can’t wait for Cleo to arrive.’

Dominic shook his head. Serena was bound and determined to make this as difficult for the girl as it was possible to be.

‘Lily also said she thinks she should make some other arrangement if this is going to be a long-term commitment.’ She gave Dominic a sly look. ‘She’s even talking of moving in with you.’ She paused. ‘Now, wouldn’t that be a happy development?’

Dominic scowled, and, although Cleo didn’t even know the woman yet, it seemed painfully obvious that Dominic’s mother had already taken a dislike to her.

‘Um—perhaps I could stay at a hotel,’ she ventured, just as the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, advising them to buckle up as they’d be landing shortly.

Dominic gave her an impatient look as he seated himself in his own chair and fastened his seat belt. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘You’ll be staying at Magnolia Hill.’ His lips twisted. ‘Believe me, your grandfather won’t have it any other way.’

Lily Montoya was standing on the veranda when Dominic, Serena and Cleo arrived at the house.

Cleo guessed she’d been waiting for them, evidently as curious to see her late husband’s illegitimate daughter as she was to greet her son.

Cleo was conscious of the older woman’s eyes assessing her as she stepped out of the back of the open-topped Rolls-Royce that had been sent to meet them. But then Lily flung herself into Dominic’s arms, hugging him and chiding him and accusing him of being away for far too long.

Dominic treated his mother’s exuberance with as much patience as affection, his eyes meeting Cleo’s over the woman’s shoulder filled with a rueful resignation.

Nevertheless, it was obvious his mother had missed him terribly. And, despite his efforts to introduce her to Cleo, she persisted in distracting him with news about some woman he had apparently been seeing.

What did she think? Cleo wondered. That her son might be as unreliable towards his responsibilities as her husband had been? Or that Cleo was some kind of femme fatale, sent to take revenge on her mother’s behalf?

Shaking her head, she looked about her, unwillingly aware that Magnolia Hill was even more beautiful than she had imagined. A huge antebellum-style mansion, its whitewashed facade was faced by a row of Doric columns that blended with the ornate pediment at the roofline.

Tall windows, some with iron-railed balconies on the upper floor, framed a porticoed doorway. Shallow steps stretched along the front of the building, leading up to a marble-paved veranda.

And, within the shadows of the veranda, a handful of cushioned iron chairs and a pair of bistro tables offered a relaxing place to escape the late-afternoon sun.

It was all quite overwhelming. The breathtaking views she’d seen on the short journey from the small airport had hardly prepared her for so much beauty and elegance. Magnolia Hill was quite simply the most beautiful house she’d ever seen.

The house’s name was appropriate, too, she decided. It stood on a rise overlooking the land that surrounded it. A cluster of outbuildings, including cabins and barns and an enormous garage were set back among trees, while across palm-strewn dunes she could see the pink-white sands of an exquisite coral beach.

But the shadows were drifting over the island as the sun sank lower in the west and Cleo hoped it wasn’t an omen. Despite her admiration for her surroundings, she hadn’t forgotten how she came to be here.

She steeled herself with the thought that, in a matter of days, it would all be over and she’d be going home…

‘Put the boy down, Lily.’

The gruff command enabled Dominic to free himself from his mother’s clinging embrace and stride up the shallow steps to greet the elderly man who had appeared in the porticoed doorway of the house.

‘Hey, Grandpa,’ he said, shaking the man’s hand and allowing him to place a frail, but possessive, arm about his shoulders. ‘How are you?’

‘Better now that you’re here,’ Jacob Montoya assured him roughly, affection thick in his voice. He looked beyond his grandson to where the three women stood together. His eyes flicked swiftly over his daughter and daughter-in-law before settling finally on Cleo. ‘You brought her, then?’

‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’ Dominic’s tone was wry. ‘I know an order when I hear one.’

‘It wasn’t an order,’ his grandfather protested fiercely. But then he let go of the younger man to move along the veranda. ‘Cleopatra?’ he said, his voice quavering a little. ‘You’re the image of your mother, do you know that?’

‘It’s Cleo,’ she murmured uncomfortably, aware that he’d said nothing to his daughter yet. ‘How—how do you do?’

Jacob shook his head. He still had a shock of grey hair and despite the fact that there was no blood connection, he looked not unlike his grandson. They possessed the same air of power and determination.

They were both big men, too. In his youth, Jacob must have been as tall as Dominic. But now age, and his illness, had rounded his shoulders and attenuated the muscled strength that his grandson had in spades.

Still, his eyes glittered with a sharp intelligence that no physical weakness could impair. And, although his stature was a little uncertain, the hand he held out to Cleo was as steady as a rock.

‘Come here…Cleo,’ he said, ignoring Serena when she hurried up the steps to take his arm.

‘Where’s your stick?’ she hissed, but Jacob only gave her an impatient look.

‘I’m not an invalid, Rena,’ he muttered. ‘Leave me be.’

Cleo went up the steps rather timidly, which annoyed her a little, but she couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t help being in timidated by this man who was, incredibly, her grandfather.

She was also aware that both Serena and Lily Montoya were watching her. Probably hoping she’d fall flat on her face, she thought bitterly. It was becoming more and more obvious that neither of them really wanted her here.

Jacob was still holding out his hand and, with a feeling of trepidation, Cleo put her hand into it and felt the dry brown fingers close about her moist skin.

‘My granddaughter,’ Jacob said, and she was almost sure there was a lump in his throat as he spoke the words. ‘My God, girl, you’re beautiful!’

Cleo didn’t know what to say. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dominic propped against one of the pillars. He’d taken off his jacket and folded his arms, watching their exchange with narrowed green eyes.

What was he thinking? she wondered. And why, at this most significant moment in her life, did she feel as if he was the only friend she had?

Which was ridiculous really. She hardly knew him, for heaven’s sake. Oh, sure, there’d been that moment in the cocktail lounge of the hotel back in England when she’d sensed he was attracted to her. But that had just been a brief aberration, brought on, no doubt, by the fact that he hadn’t seen his girlfriend for a week at least.

Nevertheless, almost unconsciously, she’d begun to depend on him, and it was only now that she realised she didn’t even know where he lived. She knew he didn’t live at Magnolia Hill. Serena had said as much. But was he going to leave her here at the mercy of his aunt and his mother?

‘This must all be very strange for you.’ Jacob was speaking again and Cleo had to concentrate hard to understand what he was saying. ‘I want you to know, I’ve anticipated this day with great excitement and emotion.’

Cleo didn’t know how to answer him. How did you speak to a man you’d never met before, but who was as closely related to you as any man alive?

‘I—I didn’t believe it,’ she offered at last, flashing Dominic a glance of pure desperation.

This had been such an incredibly long and nerve-racking day, and exhaustion was causing a tension headache to tighten all the skin at her temples.

‘But Dominic must have told you what happened?’ Jacob persisted, drawing her hand through his arm and turning towards the door into the house. ‘I’m sure he explained—’

‘Give her a break, old man.’

Dominic himself had stepped into their path, his jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, and Cleo felt an immense sense of relief that he’d understood her panic.

‘What do you mean?’

Jacob’s tone was confrontational, but Dominic only exchanged a challenging look with Serena before saying smoothly, ‘Can’t you see she’s tired? This has been a long day for her and I dare say what she’d really appreciate is a little time to herself. Why don’t you let Serena show her to her room? Then she can have a shower and rest. She’ll feel far more like answering your questions when she’s not dropping on her feet.’

Jacob scowled, but he turned to Cleo with reluctant concern. ‘Is this true, my dear?’ he asked, and Cleo wet her lips before replying.

‘I would like a chance to freshen up,’ she agreed weakly. ‘If you don’t mind?’

‘If I don’t mind?’ Jacob snorted. ‘You must do whatever you feel like doing, my dear. I’m hoping you’ll consider Magnolia Hill your home; that you’ll regard Dominic, Serena and myself as your family.’ His lips tightened as he glanced back along the veranda. ‘And Lily, of course.’

Dominic’s mother looked as if the last thing she wanted to do was welcome her husband’s illegitimate daughter into the family. But it was obvious from the tight smile that touched her lips, and from the fact that she didn’t contradict him, that even she didn’t fly in the face of her father-in-law’s commands.

‘Good.’ Dominic sounded pleased. ‘Now that’s settled, perhaps Sam can fetch Cleo’s bags from the car?’

CHAPTER FIVE

CLEO slept for almost twelve hours.

After that meeting with her grandfather, Serena had shown her to the rooms she was to occupy and suggested she might like her supper served there.

‘I know my father won’t approve. He can’t wait to talk to you,’ she said. ‘But I think both Dominic and I are of the opinion that you need time to get your bearings before facing any more questions.’

At the time, Cleo had demurred. The sooner she got the initial interview with her grandfather over, the sooner she could think about going home. Because whatever Jacob Montoya had said, Magnolia Hill was not her home and never would be.

But it was not to be.

After the manservant had delivered her luggage and Cleo had denied needing any help with her unpacking, she’d spent a little time exploring her apartments.

A spacious living room, simply furnished with comfortable chairs and sofas, some of which sat beneath the long windows, flowed into an even more spacious bedroom. Here, French doors opened onto a balcony that overlooked a floodlit swimming pool at the back of the house, the huge colonial bed allowing its occupant to take full advantage of the view.

It had been getting dark, so she’d been unable to see much beyond the gardens. Besides, the marble-tiled bathroom had distracted her attention.

A large marble tub was sunk into the floor, while alongside it was a jacuzzi bath, with lots of jets for massaging the body. There were twin hand basins, also in marble, and an enormous shower cubicle, its circling walls made incredibly of glass tiles.

There were mirrors everywhere, throwing back her reflection from every angle, flattering or otherwise. When she first shed her clothes, Cleo spent a little time fretting over her appearance. In her opinion, her breasts were too small and her hips were too big, and she shivered at the thought of Dominic seeing her in a swimsuit.

But, despite these inappropriate feelings towards her adopted brother, by the time Cleo had had a shower and washed her hair, she could hardly keep her eyes open.

Wrapping her hair in one of the fluffy towels she found on a rack in the bathroom, she dragged her suitcase across the floor and extracted a bra and panties. Then, stretching out on the satin luxury of the bedspread, she closed her eyes.

She awakened to fingers of sunlight finding their way between the slats of the window blind. It was evidently morning, but for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. Only that the bed, and most particularly the room, were unfamiliar.

Then her memory reasserted itself, and, unable to suppress a little gasp of dismay, she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked about her.

Her first realisation was that someone had been into her room while she was sleeping. The bedspread she’d been lying on had been drawn back and she was now covered with a fine Egyptian cotton sheet. Also, the blinds hadn’t been drawn when she’d lain down on the bed. So who had checked up on her?

One of the servants, perhaps? Or Serena? She wouldn’t put it past the older woman to want to satisfy herself that Cleo wasn’t going to appear again that night. But what had she told Jacob Montoya? Had she let him think that Cleo had chosen to go to bed rather than spend the evening with him?

She sighed. It was too late now to worry about such a possibility. And her grandfather—she was amazed at how easily the word came to her mind—had said to treat the place as her home. Not that she would. As she’d thought the night before, she could only ever be a visitor here. Too many things had happened to consider anything else.

Sliding her legs out of bed, Cleo got to her feet and was relieved to find she felt totally rested. If a little sticky, she conceded, aware that, despite the air conditioning, moving brought a film of moisture to her skin. Beyond the windows, the sun was evidently gaining in strength. What time was it? she wondered. And where had she left her watch?

She eventually found it in the bathroom. She’d adjusted the time on the plane and she saw now that it was barely seven o’clock. Nudging the bedroom blind aside, she peered through the French windows. It was a glorious morning and, despite herself, she felt her spirits rise.

There didn’t appear to be anyone about and, unlatching the window, she pushed it open. Warmth flooded into the room and with it came the tantalising scent of tropical blossoms and the unmistakable tang of the sea.

She saw now that beyond the gardens was the beach she’d glimpsed so briefly on her arrival. Feathery palm trees framed the blue waters of the Atlantic, a frill of foam creaming along the shore.

Slipping between the vertical blinds, she stepped out onto the balcony. Below her, the swimming pool sparkled in the sunlight, tubs of shrubs and hibiscus and oleander marking the curve of a patio that was half-hidden from her view.

A maid appeared with a watering can, evidently intent on her task, and although Cleo was inclined to step back inside she resisted the impulse. After all, her bra and panties were no more revealing than a bikini. It was amazing, she could stand here in the sunlight, when it had been wet and cloudy yesterday morning in London.

She wondered what time her grandfather got up. Whether he’d expect her to join him for breakfast. Her nerves jangled a little at the prospect, though from what she’d seen the night before, he didn’t seem a very intimidating figure. Unlike Dominic…

Her pulse quickening, she wondered if Dominic had stayed the night at Magnolia Hill. Had he ever lived here at all? He’d told her his parents had had their own house when he’d explained about Celeste—her mother. Goose pimples feathered her skin at the memory.

But still, she couldn’t stop thinking about where he might be at this moment. Perhaps he lived with his girlfriend, though that thought was less easy to engage. Whatever, it was really no concern of hers, so she should just get over it. Before she saw him again and let him guess how she felt…

A shadow moved at the far side of the pool.

For the first time, she noticed that there were cabanas there; small cabins where a person using the pool could change their clothes.

A man had emerged from one of the cabanas. A tall man, bare-chested, with a towel draped around his neck. He was wearing swimming shorts that barely skimmed his hip bones. Wet shorts that clung to every corded sinew.

As she watched, he used the towel to dry his hair, and she saw the growth of dark hair beneath his arms and arrowing down his chest. His skin was brown and sleek with muscle, his stomach flat above long, powerful legs.

Cleo’s palms were suddenly damp. She didn’t have to wonder any longer about Dominic. He’d obviously been swimming. But how long had he been there? And was he able to see her?

Her throat drying, Cleo eased herself back into her bedroom. Then, allowing the blinds to fall back into place, she took a moment to calm her racing heart. Wherever he lived he’d evidently spent the night at Magnolia Hill, she thought breathlessly. Would he be joining his grandfather for breakfast, too?

She was spending far too much time speculating about Dominic Montoya. Impatient with herself, Cleo smoothed her palms down her thighs and knelt beside her suitcase.

What to wear? That was the problem. Well, not a bikini, she assured herself, with another glance in the mirror. The tank suit Norah had persuaded her to buy was probably going to remain unworn in her case.

Half an hour later, she emerged from the bathroom in narrow-legged lemon shorts and a white cotton T-shirt. Smart, but casual, she thought, remembering something else Norah had told her. It wasn’t cool to look overdressed.

Besides, the last thing she wanted was for anyone to get the impression that she was looking for admiration. Or sex, she added grimly, abruptly recalling the last months of her mother’s life.

She decided she could hardly blame Lily Montoya for being hostile. After all, her husband had had an affair with Celeste. But as for her being attracted to her adopted brother… Cleo sucked in a breath. There was no way history was going to repeat itself.

Her hair was still a little wet, so she found an elasticated band in her bag and looped it up in a ponytail. Then, stepping into thonged sandals, she checked her appearance once more before opening her door.

The place seemed very quiet. Without the knowledge that there were at least half a dozen servants working in the house, she might have thought she and Dominic were its only occupants.

She blew out a breath, inwardly chiding herself. She had to stop punctuating every thought with Dominic. He meant nothing to her. How could he? She hardly knew him. And it went without saying that she meant nothing to him.

A long hallway with a window at the end led to the staircase. However, before reaching the downward curve of a scrolled iron banister, the landing opened out into a pleasant sitting area. From here, it was possible to overlook the lower foyer, circular leaded windows allowing sunlight to stream into the stairwell.

As Cleo started down, she saw the huge potted fern that filled the turn of the staircase. Tendrils of greenery clung to the iron and brushed her fingers as she passed. There was something almost sensual about its twining fronds, she mused ruefully. Or perhaps she was just extra-sensitive this morning.

Certainly, she had climbed this staircase the night before. But then, exhaustion, and a certain amount of tension, had clouded her view. Not that she was any less tense this morning, she thought, pausing to admire the view from an arching window. Even the sight of the alluring shoreline couldn’t quite rid her of the feeling that she shouldn’t be here.

A West Indian maid appeared below her. She looked up at her with expectant eyes, and Cleo wondered what she was thinking. ‘Can I help you, Ms Novak?’ she asked, and Cleo was relieved to find she hadn’t been introduced to the staff as Cleo Montoya.

‘Um—you could tell me if Mr Montoya is up yet,’ she said, deciding she might as well be proactive. If her grandfather wanted to see her, there was no point in her dragging her heels.

The maid gestured across the delicately patterned tiles of the foyer. ‘Mr Dominic is having breakfast on the terrace,’ she said politely. ‘You like I should show you the way?’

‘Oh—no.’ Cleo had no desire to spend any more time with Dominic than she had to. ‘I meant—Mr Montoya Senior. What time does he usually get up?’

‘Your grandfather has breakfast in his room at about seven a.m.,’ remarked a disturbingly familiar voice from behind her. Cleo turned to find Dominic standing in the arched entry to the adjoining room. ‘He’ll be down later.’