His Ultimate Prize(7)

       

'Of course, Mistress Raven. I look forward to the many and varied ways  you intend to whip me into shape.' With a step sideways that still  managed to encroach on her body space and bring even more of his pulsing  body heat slapping against her, he adjusted the walking stick and  sauntered away in a slow, languid walk.

Hell, even a limping Rafael de Cervantes managed to move with a swagger  that made her heart race. Tearing her traitorous gaze away from his  tight butt, she hurried up the floating staircase to her room. Gritting  her teeth against the firestorm of emotions that threatened to batter  her to pieces, she changed into her workout gear. The simple act of  donning the familiar attire calmed her jangling nerves.

But she couldn't forget that, once again, Rafael had cut through the  outer layer of her defences and almost struck bone, almost peeled back  layers she didn't want uncovered.

She pushed the niggling sensation away and shoved her feet into  comfortable trainers. After a minute's debate, she decided on the gym  instead of her preferred outdoor regime. Even though the day was edging  towards evening, the Spanish sun blazed far too hot for the gruelling  exercise she needed to restore balance to her equilibrium.

She took the specially installed lift that divided her suite from  Rafael's to the sub-basement level where the state-of-the-art gym was  located. It was the only room in the whole house that didn't have an  exhibitionist's view to the outside.

Rafael's house held no concrete walls, only thick glass interspersed  with steel and chrome pillars. At first the feeling of exposure had  preyed on her nerves, but now the beauty of the architecturally stunning  design had won her over. Nevertheless, right this minute she was  grateful for the enclosed space of the gym. Here she didn't need to  compose herself, didn't need to hold back her punches as she slammed her  gloved fist into the punching bag. Pain repeatedly shot up her arms,  and gradually cleared her mind.

She was here to do her job. Which started and ended with helping Rafael  heal properly and regain the utmost mobility. Once she achieved her aim  and made peace with her part in his accident, she could walk away from  the crazy, bone-deep, completely insane attraction she felt for the man  who was in every shape and form the epitome of the man who'd fathered  her.

The man whose playboy lifestyle had mattered to him on so deep a level  he'd turned his back on his parental responsibilities until they'd been  forced on him by the authorities. The same man who'd stood by and barely  blinked while his friends had tried to put their hands on her.

Punch!

Her hand slipped. The bag continued its lethal trajectory towards her.  Only her ingrained training made her sidestep the heavy-moving bag  before it knocked her off her feet. Chest heaving, she tugged off the  gloves and went to the climbing frame and chalked her hands.

Clamping her lids shut, she regulated her breathing and forced herself to focus.

Rafael would not derail her. She'd made a colossal mistake and vocalised  her roiling disgust for his lifestyle at the most inappropriate moment.  Whatever the papers had said, Raven knew deep down she was partly, if  not wholly, responsible for putting Rafael in the dangerous frame of  mind that had caused his accident. She also knew things could've turned  out a million times worse than they had. This was her penance. She would  help him get back on his feet. Then she would leave and get on with the  rest of her life.

Reaching high, she grabbed the first handhold.

By the time she reached the top seven minutes later, her new course of action was clearly formulated.

* * *

'I've laid out the itinerary for the next three months. If you  cooperate, I'm confident I can get you back to full health and one  hundred per cent mobility with little or no after-effects,' she started  crisply as she opened the door and entered Rafael's study. She  approached his desk, only to stop when she noticed his attention was  caught on the papers strewn on his glass-topped desk.

'I'm talking to you, Rafael.'

'I heard you,' he muttered, and held out his hand for the sheet without  looking up. After a cursory glance, he started to shake his head. 'This  isn't going to work.' He slapped it down and picked up his own papers.

Raven waited a beat. When he didn't look up, she fought a sharp retort. 'May I ask why not?'

'I have several events to host and meetings to attend between now and  when the X1 season starts. Your itinerary requires that I stand still.'

She frowned. 'No, it doesn't.'

'It might as well. You've upped the regime from two to three times a day  with sports massages thrown in there that would require me to be  stationary. And was that acupuncture I saw in there?' His derisive tone  made her hackles rise higher. 'I'll be travelling a lot in the next  three months. You're sorely mistaken if you think I intend to take time  off to sit around being pricked and prodded.'

She watched the light glint off his damp hair. 'What do you mean, you'll  be travelling a lot? You're supposed to be recuperating.'

Steely blue eyes met hers and instantly Raven was reminded of the  unwavering determination that had seen him win several racing  championships since he'd turned professional at nineteen.

'I have a multi-billion-dollar company to run, or have you forgotten?'

'No, I haven't. But wasn't...isn't Marco in charge for the time being?  He told me he had everything in hand when we discussed my helping you-'

His eyes narrowed. 'What else did you discuss with my brother?'

Mouth dry, she withstood his stare. 'What do you mean?'

'I expected an element of confidentiality when I hired you...'

'What exactly are you accusing me of?'

'You will not discuss details of my health with anyone else but me, is that clear?'

'I didn't-'

'You're glowing.' His gaze raked her face down to her neck and back up again.

'Excuse me?'

'You look...flushed. If I weren't painfully aware of the unlikelihood of  it, I'd have said you had just tumbled from a horizontal marathon in a  lover's bed. Not quite tumbled to within an inch of your life, more  like-'

'Can we get back to this, please?' She waved the sheet in his face then slammed it back in front of him.

He shrugged and sat back in his plush leather chair, the cool, calm  businessman back in place. 'Marco has his own company to run...and a new  family to attend to. Besides, he's taking a well-earned break, so I'm  managing his company as well.'

A wave of shock nearly rendered her speechless. 'And you didn't think to speak to me before you decided all this?'

'I wasn't aware I needed your permission to live my life or run my  business.' His voice, a stiletto-thin blade, skimmed close to her skin.

She took a breath and searched for calm, a state which she'd concluded  long ago was near on impossible when in Rafael's presence. 'It's part of  the contract we agreed. If you're going to take on any substantial  amount of work I'll need to know so I can formulate your therapy  accordingly. For goodness' sake, you can't go from zero to full-time  work in the space of an afternoon. And I really don't know what you were  thinking, telling your brother you'd take on this amount of work for  the next goodness knows how long!'

Rafael's gaze dropped to her annoyed almost-pout and fought not to  continue downward to the agitated heaving of her breasts. Peachy...the  smooth skin of her throat glowed a faint golden-pink. He'd long been  fascinated by how a woman with jet-black hair such as hers could have  skin so pale it was almost translucent. He knew she took care to stay  out of the sun and practised her exercises before daybreak.

An image of her, streamlined, sleek and poised upside down in a martial  arts pose, slammed into his brain. The groin-hardening effect made him  grip his pen harder. His gaze fell once more on her lips and it was all  he could do not to round his desk, clasp her face in his hands and taste  her. Or maybe coax her round to him, pull down that prim little skirt  she'd donned and discover the delights underneath.

Dios, focus!

'Luckily, I don't answer to you, mi dulzura.' He certainly had no  intention of enlightening her on what he'd been working steadily on for  over a month; what he hadn't stopped thinking of since he'd woken from  his coma.

Because finding a way to occupy his mind was the only sure way of keeping his many and varied demons at bay.

'...I hope to hell you're not thinking of adding racing to this insane  schedule.' She paled a little as she said it and the usual kick of  satisfaction surged.

'And what if I am?' He moderated his voice despite the cold fist of pain  that lodged in his gut. Unless a miracle happened, his racing career  was over. A part of him had accepted that. Deep inside his soul,  however, it was another matter.

'I'm hoping it won't come to that. Because you know as well as I do, you're in no shape to get into a racing cockpit.'

He raised an interested brow. 'And how exactly do you intend to stop me?'

Her delectable lips parted but no words emerged, and her eyes took on a  haunted look that made him grit his teeth. 'I can't, I suppose. But I  think you'll agree you're not in the best shape.'