The Trouble With Coco Monroe (25 page)

Shame flooded Coco now as she remembered those raw, undeveloped feelings.

Overprotected and emotionally immature, the night had devastated her.

Even now the memory of the agonising deep hurt that the young Coco had endured burned brightly in her heart today.

Her love for him had been a pure and honest thing.

No matter how hard she’d tried that love had never died.

And she’d buried her pain in extreme partying and drinking.

Coco shuddered.

A night in a run-down dive in the middle of the City had been her reality check. Drunk and at the mercy of a couple of boys, Louise and Samson had come to her rescue.

But then police had raided the club.

Unfortunately a young constable had resembled Rafe and when Coco had smacked him with a hot kiss and then accidently punched him she’d spent the night in a cell.

A cell shared with a terrified young girl named Rita.

Coco smiled now.

Rita had changed her life, made her realise how lucky she was to have people who loved and cared for her. People who worried about her, people who didn’t use their fists on her every single day.

The next morning during breakfast in a greasy diner with Rita, Louise and Samson, the embryonic beginnings of
First Step
had been born.

It had taken hard work and not a little courage on the part of Rita. She’d gone to night school, college and got her degree. And now ran the management side of the centres.

Now whenever times got tough Coco always remembered the bruised and bloodied girl with hair the colour of dirty straw. And big brown eyes that mirrored an invincible spirit, which refused to be broken.

It got her through everything and it would get her through this too, she decided as Rafe reminded her he waited for an answer. ‘How did you become involved?’

Watching him now through narrowed eyes she said, ‘I’ll tell you one day.’

She looked into that face, into those eyes dark with annoyed frustration.

We all have our little secrets don’t we, Rafael?

Needing him and acting on it were two different things.

By his recent behaviour he’d learned nothing.

He had no idea what made her tick.

Well, by God, he would learn the hard way.

Rafe realised Coco was tired as they walked towards the cabin.

She flagged behind him in the sultry heat of the late afternoon.

The wine hadn’t helped.

She didn’t have a head for red wine, something else to file away in his memory banks.

Guzzling down the remaining water, her skin was flushed.

And it looked as if she’d overdone the sunbathing.

‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine, just having an energy dip. I didn’t sleep well last night.’

‘You didn’t eat much.’ He handed her a banana. ‘Here, it’ll give you energy.’

‘Thanks.’ She winced as she dropped her pack from her shoulder and peeled the fruit. She bit into it with a sigh. ‘Do you want a piece?’

Shaking his head he picked up her backpack.

‘I’ll carry this for you.’

Her mouth opened to argue, but she caught his eye and gave a little shrug.

‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’

Rafe wasn’t sure what he thought about this new and improved edition of Coco.

The new version was too agreeable and too nice, too accommodating.

She’d certainly thrown him a curve about loving him like a brother and he wondered now where that had come from.

Coco certainly hadn’t been looking at him as if he was her brother. She hadn’t kissed him yesterday as if he was her brother either.

Something was up and he decided to play it out, see where it led.

She was keeping secrets and that seriously annoyed him.

He’d almost winkled it out of her about
‘First Step.’

At the first opportunity he would tell her that her father was absolutely fine and in no danger. The trick would be to get the timing just right.

‘Rafe?’

He turned to look at her.

For a moment he thought he recognised a flash of heat, of molten fury, in those violet eyes.

‘Yes?’

But her smile for him now was warm and sweet, and innocent.

Too innocent he realised and narrowed his eyes.

‘I’ll cook tonight. Will seafood linguine in a light sauce do?’

Surprised, he studied her bright smile.

‘Sure.’

She passed him as they walked through the house and told him she was going to have a shower. He watched her hips swing down the hall thinking about the flash in her eye, perhaps he’d imagined it?

He still held her backpack.

An idea occurred to him. Did she have a satellite phone? Was there any way she could have found out? Perhaps from Louise? But then Ethan had told him that Louise wanted news of Coco.

Without a moment’s hesitation he opened her bag, pawed through it.

No phone.

And he’d thoroughly checked her room too this morning.

He breathed a sigh of relief, then wondered why he had a horrible sinking feeling in his gut.

Chapter Twenty Eight

‘That was delicious.’

Eyes the colour of bitter chocolate stared into hers and Coco felt the familiar flutter of a dark attraction roll through her system.

She sipped on mineral water, observing Rafe over the rim of her glass.

His hair was tousled from the shower and he had that I-need-a-shave look.

Leaning elbows on the table, he held his wine glass as he watched her.

Skin glowing from the sun he smiled, and his teeth looked even whiter.

Tonight he wore soft black jeans, a white cotton button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves. And he looked brutally sexy and dangerous.

Why couldn’t he develop a paunch, or a squint or start losing his hair? Something, anything, to break up the picture of absolute male perfection. And he had that glint in his eye again.

‘I like that colour on you,’ he said and sipped his wine. ‘It’s the exact shade of your eyes.’

Since she’d burned her shoulders the dress was strapless, silk and boned.

He rose, went to the fridge and plucked an open bottle of white wine.

Poured her a glass and handed it to her.

‘Why don’t you relax in the sitting room?’ he suggested. ‘The fire’s lit. You cooked, so I’ll clean up.’

Why not?

She made her way through.

Snuggling into the corner of a sofa Coco curled up her legs, gave a cushion a hug.

Resting her head on the armrest, she stared unseeing into the fire. The hiss and spit of the logs, the gentle heartbeat of soft music lulled her into a totally relaxed state.

The aroma of wood burning along with the torrent of fresh lilies spilling out vases of clear glass mingled with the unique scent of Rafe as he made himself comfortable on the opposite sofa.

He appeared relaxed as he held a bulbous Cognac glass.

Stretching out long legs, he sipped and kept his eyes on her.

Her muscles ached from unaccustomed exercise and carrying a pack for miles.

Testing, she rolled her shoulders and stretched out on the couch.

‘I need to talk to you,’ he said in a determined tone.

I bet you do, Rafael.

Trust him to spoil the moment.

They would talk when she wanted to talk, in her time and on her terms.

‘I’m not in the mood for a scene this evening,’ she told him in a quiet voice as she stared into the fire.

He gave a deep sigh of male frustration.

‘Coco, I’m not your brother.’ His deep voice rumbled in his chest.

‘I know,’ she said, slid her eyes to his. ‘But it doesn’t change how I feel. It is what it is and you need to accept it. At least now we can be friends.’

He placed his glass on the coffee table and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. For a moment she was certain she saw a flash of vulnerability in those dark eyes.

Then she decided she’d dreamt it.

The day Rafael Cavendish was vulnerable would be the day hell froze over.

‘I have things I need to say to you.’

Oh no you don’t.

She wasn’t ready to hear his excuses why he’d lied and manipulated her.

He was too good at turning things around and making them her fault.

She’d rather feel the anger. It was safer.

Rolling to stand on her feet, she stretched to ease out the kinks in her neck.

‘I’m too tired and tomorrow is another day.’

He opened his mouth to argue, frowned and snapped it shut.

‘Goodnight, Coco.’

‘Goodnight.’

The evening was pleasantly cool after the humid heat of the day.

Yawning she strolled passed Rafe’s bedroom, spotted the door was ajar and a bedside lamp was lit.

Pushing the door open she stopped and struggled for two seconds with the little voice of her conscience telling her she was invading his privacy.

The room was large, the walls painted a matt white with a pitched roof and a ceiling fan leisurely displacing the air.

A huge four poster made of thick oak took centre stage. She approved of the bedding in stunning white Egyptian cotton.

A photo next to the bed caught her attention. Her brother Ethan, her mother and... Rafe. The boys must have been about eight years old and her beaming mother had her arms around them. The expression on Rafe’s face squeezed Coco’s heart.

He looked so happy and content.

No, no, no, she admonished herself.

He was the enemy.

Her sympathy for a lonely little boy meant nothing.

And it was time to get out of his room.

There would be nothing worse than being caught snooping.

She spun and sped to her own bedroom.

But as she got ready for bed a dastardly idea entered her brain and made her heart race.

Could she do it?

Or would it be a wicked step too far?

An hour later and she was ready.

Hair still damp from her shower, Coco shrugged on a robe of white silk, rolled up the sleeves and tied it loosely at the waist.  She slicked Vaseline on her lips and listened for Rafe settling down for the night.

The click of his bedroom door being closed alerted her that she’d got her timing right.

She gave him fifteen minutes, picked up a bottle of oil and left her room.

Rafe lay on his back staring at the ceiling.

What the hell was he going to do with her?

The knock at his door brought him up to sitting. For a moment he thought about covering up his thin cotton pyjama bottoms, but it was too late.

Wearing a thin robe with one slim shoulder peeking out, Coco stood at the bottom of the bed staring at him with big eyes.

‘Could you help me with this?’

She handed him the bottle and turned her back. Untying the robe she sat on the edge of his bed and shrugged it off. Her back was bare to the waist as she clutched the robe with one hand covering her breasts. The expanse of clear skin made his throat dry and blood pool below his waist.

With a quick look over her shoulder, she gave him a shy smile.

‘I can’t reach and my back’s burned. Please?’

She scooted further into the bed. Her arms hugging her knees as she bent forward.

He couldn’t help it, his cock tented his pyjama bottoms and he thanked God she was totally unaware of his arousal.

Jesus, the atmosphere in the room became too hot, too tense.

Heart thundering in his ears, Rafe poured oil onto his palm, placed the bottle on the table, warming the liquid between his hands.

Kneeling on the bed, with care he touched her shoulders.

She jerked.

They felt as hot as they looked.

‘Does it hurt?’ His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat.

Coco placed her forehead on her knees.

Her response was a muffled, ‘No.’

Taking great care he smoothed the oil on burning flesh paying particular attention to her shoulders and neck.

The scent of her shampoo, of warm woman made him bite down hard on his bottom lip.

Her skin was so soft and silky.

His cock jolted and he took a shaky breath. ‘What are you wearing?’

Her head lifted as she rolled her shoulders under his gentle fingers.

‘It’s a robe daddy bought me. It makes me feel closer to him somehow.’ Her voice cracked.

Then those slim shoulders shook as she bent her forehead to her knees.

‘Christ,’ he muttered under his breath.

And guilt clawed an acid path into his throat.

Perspiration beaded on his top lip as he finished, screwed the top on the bottle, placed it on his bedside table.

He tugged the robe up and carefully patted her shoulder.

‘All done.’

She whirled around and he got a great view of fabulous breasts with their rosy tips as she pressed a quick kiss to his bare chest.

Caught off-guard he jumped and so did his cock.

‘Thank you for looking after me, Raphael.’

Then her gaze dropped, grew huge as she noticed his erection.

For the first time in his adult life Rafe Cavendish blushed.

It burned up his throat and into his face.

Coco scooted backwards off the bed, stumbled towards the door and pointed to his achingly hard arousal.

‘I’m... so... sorry, Raphael. I never meant to...’

Liquid distress poured into her eyes as she slapped her hand over her mouth, turned and fled.

The door banged behind her.

For an endless moment his mind went completely blank.

He blinked.

There was something not quite right about the expression in her eyes.

They weren’t upset or shocked in fact they looked...

And she’d only called him...

Raphael?

The truth hit him hard.

The events of the day roared through his mind.

She loved him like a brother did she?

And he was absolutely certain she’d been laughing at him before she slammed out of his room.

She’d played him.

Oh boy, had she played him.