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

Cleo’s eyes widened. ‘Your grandfather invited me,’ she said, and he noted she was back to saying ‘your’ grandfather and not ‘my’. ‘Besides, I wanted to see something of the island before I leave.’

Dominic’s stomach hollowed. ‘You’re leaving!’

‘In a few days, yes,’ said Cleo, concentrating on her finger nudging at her saucer. ‘I’d have thought you’d be pleased. If I’m not here, I’m not a threat, am I?’

‘A threat!’ Dominic’s tone hardened. ‘A threat to whom?’

Cleo pressed her lips together. ‘You know.’

‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’ Dominic stared at her, his eyes as cold as green ice. ‘If you’re implying that I might be upset if the old man decides to leave all his money to you—’

‘No!’ Cleo had to look at him now, anguish in her dark gaze. ‘I’d never think anything like that.’ She licked her lips with an agitated tongue. ‘You can’t think I want Jacob’s money! Any of it! I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here. I—I just want to get on with my life.’

‘This is your life now,’ stated Dominic harshly. He hated the look of horror he’d brought to her face. But she had to understand that Jacob wasn’t about to let her go, not without a whole raft of conditions. ‘And you do belong here, Cleo. As much as any of us, actually.’

‘No—’

‘Yes.’ With some relucance Dominic got up from his seat and came to take the one his grandfather had vacated beside her. ‘You’re Robert’s daughter. You can’t get away from that. Jacob won’t let you.’

Cleo blew out an unsteady breath and Dominic realised she was trembling. Tiny goosebumps had blossomed all over those pale almond shoulders, enveloping the smooth skin of her throat and puckering the rounded curve of her breasts.

And he had to touch her.

To comfort her, he defended himself. But the minute his hand contacted the fine bones of her shoulder, he wanted to do so much more.

In consequence, his voice was harsher than it should have been when he said, ‘Is the prospect of staying here so terrible?’

Cleo glanced sideways at him. ‘Not terrible, no,’ she said tensely. ‘But, please, let me go. This isn’t helping anyone.’

It’s helping me, thought Dominic unevenly, aware of his pulsing arousal.

But she was right. He was behaving like an idiot.

Yet, ‘Don’t you like me touching you?’ he asked thickly, all too aware of the warmth of her bare thigh brushing his trousered leg. ‘That’s not the impression I got before.’

‘Bastard!’

The word was barely audible, but the way she thrust back her chair and got to her feet showed how angry she was. Casting a contemptuous glance over her shoulder, she strode across the deck to the rail, and for a moment Dominic had the uneasy feeling that she intended to jump over the side.

But all she did was grip the rail with both hands and stare out across the water. He guessed her knuckles must be white, judging by the taut muscles tensing in her arms. The stiff line of her spine was eloquent of the resentment she was feeling, the sweet curve of her buttocks above those spectacular thighs made him itch to cup them in his hands.

Dear God!

He dragged his hands through his hair, aware that this wasn’t the way he’d intended to play it. Dammit, she had a low enough opinion of him as it was without him making it ten times worse. Yet something about her got under his skin. When he was with her, he couldn’t think about anything—or anyone—else.

Common sense was telling him to go and get changed into something cooler and take her into town. He’d promised his grandfather he’d look after her, and that didn’t include touching her every chance he got.

Getting to his feet, he stood for a moment regarding that rigid back, and then, almost of their own volition, his feet moved in her direction.

He stopped directly behind her, but she didn’t turn. She must have heard his approach, he thought impatiently, waving the ever-attentive waiter away. The soles of his Oxfords made a distinct sound against the floor of the deck.

‘Talk to me,’ he said, his breath fluttering the wisps of sable silk that had escaped her scarf. ‘Dammit, Cleo, I’m not the only one involved here. You wanted me yesterday morning. You can’t deny it. If I hadn’t called a halt…’

Cleo clamped her jaws together. She had nothing to say to him. But he was right. However passionately she might try to convince herself that he’d been totally to blame for what had happened, nothing could alter the fact that she’d been completely blown away by his kisses, had been drowning in the sensuous beauty of his mouth.

Her silence angered Dominic. Drawing the wrong conclusions, he did something he would never have done if she’d only admitted there were faults on both sides.

Moving closer, he placed a hand on the rail at either side of her. Now she was imprisoned against the chrome-plated barrier, his lean body taut against her back.

She moved then, tried to turn, but he wouldn’t let her. With the scent of her warm body rising to his nostrils and the agitated movements she was making only adding to his unwilling response, there was no way he was going to let her go.

Pressing closer, he let her feel the unmistakable thrust of his arousal. Wedged one leg between hers to feel her sensual heat.

The little moan that issued from her lips when he bent his head and bit the soft skin at the side of her neck was almost his undoing.

It was so fragile, so anguished, and a knot twisted in his belly at the sound. But the desire to turn her round and feel her breasts pucker against his chest was consuming any lingering sense he had left.

‘Dominic…’

Her whispered protest only added to the urgent need he had to touch her. The sinuous pressure of her thighs against his pelvis almost drove him crazy with need.

‘I want you,’ he said, his voice barely recognisable to his own ears, it was so thick and hoarse with emotion. ‘I don’t care about anything else. I just want to feel you naked in my arms.’

‘And then what?’ Cleo challenged him unsteadily, even as her treacherous body arched back against him.

She so much wanted to give in. But she had to remember who he was, what he was: a man who apparently cared for nothing but his own needs.

She took a deep breath. ‘Perhaps you’re thinking, like mother, like daughter. That I’m no better than Celeste. That just because a white man looked at her—a married man, moreover—she was happy to let him screw her brains out.’

‘No!’

Dominic swore then, his voice harsh with self-loathing. Hauling her round to face him, he grasped her tilted chin in one less-than-gentle hand.

‘D’you think that’s what all this is about?’ he demanded, trying to ignore her quivering lips, her eyes, that were the mirror of her soul. ‘Some sick desire to follow in my father’s footsteps?’ His jaw clenched. ‘For God’s sake, Cleo, I thought you knew me better than that.’

Cleo trembled. ‘But I don’t know you at all!’ she exclaimed, her hands gripping his biceps, feeling the muscles grow taut beneath the fine cotton of his shirt. ‘I don’t know anything about you.’

She was trying to hold him back, but it was a losing battle. He was so much stronger than she was, so much more determined to have his way.

‘You do know me,’ he said savagely. His thumb scraped painfully across her lower lip. ‘Dammit, you know how I feel about you.’

‘Do I?’

Her eyes widened and now he could see tears sparkling in the corners. And the desire he’d had to hurt her as she was hurting him was strangled by his need to comfort her.

‘Cleo—’

‘You want I should clear now, Mr Dominic, sir?’

Dominic couldn’t believe it. One of the yacht’s younger—less experienced—stewards had appeared at the top of the steps that led down to the domestic area of the vessel carrying a tray.

Forced to let go of Cleo, Dominic swung round, ready to deliver a cutting denial. But Cleo’s hand on his sleeve was a silent rebuke.

‘All right,’ he muttered. ‘Why not?’ He gave the youth an affirming nod. ‘I guess we’re finished here.’

Then, striding away towards the companionway, he cast a look back at Cleo. ‘Wait for me,’ he commanded harshly. ‘I won’t be long.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE phone rang as Dominic was getting ready to go for his morning run.

He was tempted to ignore it. But it just might be his grandfather, and he and the old man were not on such good terms at the moment.

Calling to Ambrose, his houseman, that he’d get it, Dominic returned to the foyer and picked up the receiver.

‘Yeah,’ he said flatly, and then stifled an oath when Sarah came on the line.

He’d managed to avoid talking to Sarah for the last couple of days. He’d had Hannah tell her he was out when she’d rung him at the office, and Ambrose had orders not to tell anyone but Jacob that he was in the house.

He’d known Cleo wouldn’t ring. Since that afternoon on the yacht, he’d neither seen nor spoken to her. Mostly because Jacob had ordered him to stay away from Magnolia Hill.

She’d been gone when he’d returned to the sundeck that day. The young steward had stammered out the news that the young lady had walked off into town.

Dominic had known right away that he hadn’t a hope in hell of finding her in the busy little town. The straw market adjoined the harbour and it was the easiest thing in the world to get lost among the many booths and stalls.

Besides, he’d suspected she’d find some way to get back to Magnolia Hill, and she had. She evidently hadn’t wanted to disturb her grandfather, but equally she’d have rather done anything than wait for him.

Which, of course, was why he and Jacob were barely speaking to one another. Jacob had had no hesitation in blaming Dominic for Cleo’s sudden departure from the yacht.

‘You’d better keep your hands off her in future,’ he’d warned his grandson, not at all convinced by Dominic’s explanation that Cleo had left the yacht of her own volition. ‘If anything happens to that girl, boy, I’ll know exactly who to blame.’

Dominic had had to accept that that was fair comment. And he had to admit that neither of them had known a minute’s peace until Serena had rung to say Cleo had returned to the house in a taxi.

She’d been curious, too, and he’d thought he could imagine the subsequent conversation between her and his mother. But he’d been so relieved that Cleo was home safely, nothing else had mattered.

‘Dominic; darling.’ Sarah’s voice was amazingly amicable in the circumstances. He’d have expected accusations and tantrums, but instead she sounded much the same as she always did. ‘What have you been doing? I’ve been trying to reach you for days.’

Dominic blew out a weary breath. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said evenly. ‘Was there something urgent you wanted to speak to me about?’

‘Nothing really, darling.’ Sarah was a little less conciliatory now. ‘Where have you been? I even asked your grandfather where you were, but he said he hadn’t seen you either.’

Did he, now?

Dominic’s jaw compressed. He wouldn’t have put it past the old man to make some provocative comment and enjoy the fallout.

But it seemed Jacob was prepared to let his grandson lead his own life, so long as it didn’t involve Cleo. And so long as he wasn’t expected to pick up the pieces if anything went wrong.

‘I’ve been pretty busy,’ he said at last, despising himself for prevaricating. He was going to have to be honest with her, so why not now?

But how the hell did you tell someone that you were in lust with another woman? That since meeting Cleo, he hadn’t been able to think of anyone else?

Besides, as he kept telling himself, this crazy infatuation would pass. It had to. Once Cleo returned to England, he’d get over this madness that was controlling his life.

If she returned to England.

He scowled. If his grandfather had his way, she’d only return there long enough to settle her affairs before returning to San Clemente and making her home here.

‘So what does that mean?’ Sarah’s voice was considerably cooler now. ‘I was under the impression that you had executive assistants and managers to handle the day-to-day operation of the company for you.’ She paused. ‘Or is what you’re really saying that you’re so busy with your grandfather’s houseguest that you haven’t got time for me?’

Dominic stifled a groan, raking a frustrated hand through the thickness of his hair. How was he supposed to answer that?

The truth was, she was right, but he couldn’t tell her that on the telephone. That was the cowardly way out, and, although he might be a bastard, he had no intention of deliberately hurting her.

‘OK,’ he said at last. ‘I suppose I have been neglecting you lately. But…’ He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide how best to proceed. ‘I knew you didn’t like Cleo—’

‘I didn’t say that.’

Sarah didn’t let him finish, and Dominic heaved a sigh. ‘You didn’t have to,’ he said. ‘That night at Magnolia Hill, you practically ignored her.’

‘All right.’ Sarah seemed to realise she couldn’t go on denying it. ‘I don’t like her. I admit it. You mother doesn’t like her either. All that fuss over one dinner party!’

‘A dinner party that was supposed to have been arranged to welcome Cleo to the island,’ retorted Dominic, feeling his control slipping again. ‘Not as a reason for you and my mother to sharpen your claws.’

‘Dominic!’

Sarah caught her breath now, and Dominic realised he’d gone too far.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said wearily. ‘That was a little harsh.’

‘A little?’

‘All right, a lot.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I’m sorry. I guess I’m not in the best of moods at the moment.’

Sarah hesitated. ‘Is it her; Cleo?’ she ventured after a moment. ‘I mean, I suppose it is pretty difficult for you, her staying at Magnolia Hill and all. You and your grandfather have always been so close, and if he’s thinking of making her his heir—’

‘Where the hell did that come from?’ Dominic demanded angrily.

But he knew. His mother. They were her words, not Sarah’s.

‘I just meant—’

‘Yeah, I know what you meant.’

Dominic’s tone was harsh, but somehow he managed to get a handle on his emotions. It wasn’t her fault and he had to stop behaving as if it was.

‘Look,’ he said, immediately regretting it, ‘are you free this evening?’

Sarah gasped. ‘I—I think so.’

‘Good.’ Dominic tamped down his disappointment. ‘Then how about we have dinner together? I’ve heard there’s a new restaurant opened on Bay Street—’

‘I’d prefer it if we could have dinner at Turtle Cove,’ Sarah interrupted him appealingly. ‘It seems ages since we’ve had dinner together. Just the two of us, you know. Alone.’

Dominic bit back an instinctive denial. ‘Why not?’ he conceded after a moment, realising it would be easier to talk without an audience. ‘Shall we say—eight o’clock? Eight-thirty?’

‘So late?’ Sarah was plaintive. But then, with a little sigh of resignation, she agreed. ‘Eight o’clock. I’ll look forward to it.’

‘Yeah.’ Dominic almost put down the receiver without responding. ‘Um—so will I.’

Cleo left the house by the back entrance.

She’d discovered there was a second staircase that descended to a rear lobby, and she’d become accustomed to using it whenever she didn’t want to encounter anyone else.

Which usually only happened after her grandfather had retired for the night.

During the day she’d adapted to life at Magnolia Hill very well, she thought. Perhaps the fact that there was a limit to the length of time she would stay here was a contributing factor.

As things stood, she’d made it plain to Jacob that she didn’t feel she belonged here. This was Serena’s home, not hers. And so far he seemed to have accepted that.

Consequently, her relations with the other women in the household had improved considerably. Since their confrontation over the lunch table, even Lily seemed to have revised her opinion of her. So much so that on a couple of occasions recently she’d actually thawed enough to ask Cleo about her life in England.

If Cleo suspected that Lily’s intention was to remind her of her roots, she didn’t say anything. And at least both women had stopped regarding her as a threat to their own positions in Jacob’s life. She didn’t think they thought she was a gold-digger any longer. And Jacob was so delighted to have her here that no one wanted to deny him his last chance of happiness.

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