Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | The Purest of Diamonds?

The Purest of Diamonds?
Susan Stephens
When ice meets fire…!As the youngest of the famous Skavanga sisters, beautiful Leila has earned her reputation as the untouched Skavanga diamond – and she’s tired of it! It’s time to start living her life, and who better to teach her how than gorgeous Spaniard Raffa Leon?Raffa has no problem mixing business with pleasure!Intrigued by her shy purity and enticed by her request, he’ll ensure Leila enjoys everything life has to offer. But as her frosty façade gives way to an unleashed passion Raffa realises that there are consequences of playing with fire!‘The Skavanga Diamonds series is a must-read for all romance fans.’ – Julia, Health Officer, BudeDiscover more at www.millsandboon.co.uk/susanstephens


Leila stood and exhaled shakily as Raffa drew her by the hand towards the dance floor, and gave another shaky exclamation when he pressed her close. He hadn’t been joking about dirty dancing.
She could hardly breathe. Or maybe that was too much excitement. Heat was rampaging through her as she came into contact with every alarming contour of his body.
‘I thought you wanted to dance,’ Raffa prompted when she remained quite still.
‘You wanted to dance,’ she reminded him, reluctant to end her sensory exploration of a man who was every bit as hard as he looked.
‘Yes. With you,’ he confirmed, tightening his grip.
Raffa didn’t take no for an answer, Leila discovered as he swept her round the floor.
‘I like your style, Leila Skavanga,’ he murmured, his voice all husky and rough.
‘Really?’ She prepared herself for some glowing compliment from the master of charm. ‘Why?’
‘Stubborn. Tricky. Unpredictable.’ Raffa shrugged. ‘I never know what to expect from you.’
Then he wouldn’t be surprised when her stiletto hit his foot.
‘What’s wrong now, Leila?’
She sniffed. ‘I’m waiting for the right beat of the music.’
‘Ah, a perfectionist.’
‘No. A novice.’
‘A novice?’ Raffa’s warm breath brushed her ear. ‘I could soon change that.’
SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday, and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)
Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an after-dinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author', had been donated by Mills & Boon author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot, and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.
Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel, and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks, and plays the piano to relax, and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net (http://www.susanstephens.net) She loves to hear from her readers all around the world!
The Purest of Diamonds?
Susan Stephens


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Fiona, blogger and Tweeter extraordinaire.
Your enthusiasm for romance makes writing sheer pleasure.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE (#u8d8456f9-17eb-5efa-9a7e-f1d95c5ccb81)
CHAPTER TWO (#u505b6f1a-b881-520c-abb7-fe6eb4e32483)
CHAPTER THREE (#uce33a096-ae62-5be1-a414-6575697fd957)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
TENSION COILED IN Leila’s stomach as she peered out of the cab window to weigh up the party guests pouring into the hotel. This time of year wasn’t great for holding an event in the frozen north. Leila’s home town of Skavanga was beyond the Arctic Circle in the land of the midnight sun, but when her sister Britt threw a party no one cared about the weather. Sky-high heels and bodycon was the order of the day for the women, while the men rocked formal suits beneath their silk scarves and alpaca overcoats. The mantra for the packs of girls heading up the steps to the hotel appeared to be: if you’re going to freeze, do it on the way to Britt’s party.
Leila was the only one of three Skavanga sisters who didn’t shine at parties. Small talk wasn’t her strength. She was happiest in her office in the basement of the mining museum, gathering and recording fascinating information—
Relax, Leila instructed herself firmly. Britt had lent her a gorgeous dress with a pair of spindle-heeled sandals to match, and she had a fleece-lined jacket sitting next to her in the cab. All she had to do was run up the steps of the hotel, breeze into the lobby and get lost in the crush.
‘You have a good time now!’ the cabbie insisted as she paid the fare, adding a hefty tip because she felt sorry for him having to work such a filthy night.
‘Sorry I couldn’t get you any closer to the hotel,’ he added, pulling a long face. ‘I’ve never seen so many cabs here before—’
The Britt effect, Leila thought as she smiled. ‘Don’t worry. This is fine for me—’
‘Careful you don’t slip, love—’
Too late!
‘You all right?’ The cab driver leaned out of his open window to take a look at her.
‘Fine, thank you.’
Liar. She had just performed a series of skating moves that would have done any ice star proud—if that ice star were a clown, that was.
The cabbie shook his head with concern. ‘The roads are really icy tonight.’
She’d noticed. She was currently lodged in an inelegant squatting position at the side of his cab, her tights were ripped, and her dress was...thankfully not completely ruined after a close encounter with the side of a mud-streaked cab. Thank goodness her dress was blue-black. Navy was a great colour. It could be sponged.
Picking herself up, she stood waiting for a gap in the traffic. The cabbie was also waiting for the cars to clear. ‘Aren’t those the three men in the consortium that saved the town?’ he said, pointing.
Leila’s heart lurched. Sure enough, heading in arrow formation up the steps of the hotel were her elder sister Britt’s husband, the Sheikh of Kareshi; her middle sister Eva’s fiancé, the impossibly handsome Italian Count Roman Quisvada; and the third man in the consortium, who drew her gaze like a heat-seeking missile to its target. Powering up the steps ahead of the other men, Raffa Leon. Dangerously attractive. Currently single.
Turning away from more trouble than most women could handle, Leila shook her head with impatience for allowing herself to indulge in a moment of sheer fantasy. She was the shy, virginal sister in a family of out-there go-getters, and Raffa spelled danger in any language. Even the most experienced woman would think twice before falling into his lap, and she was more of a small-town mouse.
But the cabbie was right in saying the three men had saved the town. Leila and her two sisters, Britt and Eva, along with their long-lost brother, Tyr, had used to own the Skavanga mine outright, but when the minerals ran out and diamonds were discovered, they couldn’t afford the specialized equipment required to mine the precious stones. The town of Skavanga had always depended on the mine for its existence, so the future of everyone who lived there had been at stake too. It had been such a relief when the powerful consortium had moved in, saving both the business and the town.
‘There’s one billionaire left, if you hurry,’ the cabbie commented with a wink. ‘The other two are married—or about to be, I heard.’
‘Yes.’ Leila smiled. ‘To my sisters—’
‘So you’re one of the famous Skavanga Diamonds,’ the cabbie exclaimed, clearly impressed.
‘That’s what they call us,’ Leila admitted. She laughed. ‘I’m the smallest stone with the most flaws—’
‘Which makes you the most interesting in my book,’ the cabbie cut in. ‘And you’re still in with a chance, seeing as there’s one billionaire left for you.’
She loved his sense of humour and couldn’t stop herself laughing. ‘I’ve got more sense than that,’ she assured him. ‘And I’m definitely not Raffa Leon’s type.’ She gave a theatrical sigh. ‘Thank goodness.’
‘He has got a bit of a reputation,’ the cabbie agreed. ‘But you don’t want to believe everything you read about people in the press.’
Remembering how the glossies made out that all three Skavanga sisters were currently monopolising the world stage, at least as far as celebrity went, Leila was inclined to believe him. The only stage she stood a chance of monopolising was the bus shelter on her way to work.
‘And remember this,’ the cabbie added, giving Leila an appraising look. ‘Billionaires like to marry down. They want a quiet life at home. They have enough excitement in the office. Don’t take offence,’ he said quickly. ‘I mean that as a compliment. You look like a nice, quiet girl, is all.’
By this point Leila was convulsed with laughter. ‘And no offence taken. Now you be careful of the icy roads. I’m guessing you’ve got a long, cold night ahead of you.’
‘Too right, I have. Goodnight, love. You have fun at that party.’
‘I will,’ she promised. Just as soon as she had visited the restroom to sort out her dress. Parties might not be her thing, but she had no intention of letting down her glamorous sisters by arriving at their celebration looking as if she’d been mud wrestling before she arrived.
Picking her way carefully across the icy road as soon as there was a gap in the traffic, she launched herself into the shadows. Raffa Leon was standing at the top of the steps scanning the street, probably waiting for some glamorous socialite to decant from a limo.
God, he was gorgeous!
But bang went her plan for an anonymous entrance—
Not necessarily... All she had to do was choose her moment and scoot past him. He wouldn’t even notice her—
Wrong.
Everything was going so well. Raffa was looking one way while she was running up the steps on his blind side. But then she hit a patch of ice, and while her heels went one way she went the other. With a shriek, she prepared to hit the stone hard.
Wrong again.
‘Leila Skavanga!’
She was shocked into silence for a moment as the most impossibly handsome face in the world hovered inches from her own.
‘Raffa Leon!’ She faked surprise. ‘Goodness! Please forgive me. I didn’t see you standing there—’
Much.
Surprise? Make that deeply embarrassing. If there was one lap she didn’t want to land in tonight, it was this lap. And Raffa was holding her so firmly she had no option but to remain exactly where she was, with him shooting heat through her veins, and quite a lot of other places too. Trying not to breathe in case the cheese sandwich she’d chomped down earlier overrode the smell of toothpaste, she remained immobile, while he...while he just smelled amazing. And those eyes...
‘Thank you,’ she said, recovering her senses as he lifted her and steadied her on her feet.
‘I’m glad I caught you.’
His voice was deep and sexy, and faintly accented in a way that would have made the call of a corncrake sound melodious. ‘I’m glad you did too.’ He had just performed a save that would have earned him a standing ovation if she’d been a rugby ball.
‘You didn’t twist your ankle, did you?’
The man for whom the phrase tall, dark and handsome had been invented was looking at her legs. Deeply conscious of her ruined tights, she made a big play of brushing herself down. ‘No. I’m fine.’ She shook both feet in turn as if to prove the point and then felt stupid. He made her feel so gauche.
‘We have met before,’ he said, easing his big, sexy shoulders in a shrug.
‘In the reception line at Britt’s wedding,’ she confirmed. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
Not only did he smell divine, and he was unreasonably compelling in a swarthy, piratical way, but those wicked eyes and that energy flying off him, both were off the scale. This encounter was so far out of her comfort zone, it was embarrassing, and she was longing to escape, but Raffa seemed in no hurry to get away. In fact he was studying her face as if she were one of the exhibits in the museum. Was her mascara smudged? She wasn’t very good at applying make-up. Worse! Did she have sandwich stuck in her teeth?
Closing her mouth, she checked discreetly with her tongue.
‘Not only did we meet before, we’re almost family, Leila.’
‘Sorry...’ When Raffa’s eyes smiled into hers, she couldn’t think straight. ‘Family?’
‘Sí,’ Raffa insisted in his addictive Spanish drawl. ‘Now the second member of the consortium is marrying a Skavanga sister, there’s only us two left. There’s no need to look so shocked, Señorita Skavanga. I only meant that perhaps we can get to know each other a little better now.’
Did he really want to?
Why did he want to?
Instantly suspicious of why such a devastatingly successful, good-looking man would want to get to know her better, she blurted, ‘I don’t have many shares in the company.’
Raffa laughed then forced a gasp out of her as he bowed over her hand. ‘I don’t have any intention of stealing your shares, Leila.’
How could someone brushing his lips over the back of her hand cause so much sensation? She’d read about things like this. Before they were married or engaged her sisters had talked incessantly about romantic encounters, but this was a whole new world for Leila. Not that Raffa meant to be romantic. It was just his way of putting her at ease.
So why was it having the opposite effect?
People were still pouring up the steps to the party, pressing in on them from every side, making conversation impossible, let alone making it easy to move away from each other. And she was hopeless at small talk. The weather? It was always cold in Skavanga. That would keep them talking for all of ten seconds. But this was a Skavanga sisters’ party, and Raffa was their guest, so it was up to her to make him feel welcome.
Bracing herself, she launched in. ‘I hope you’re enjoying your trip to Skavanga.’
He seemed amused by her opening sally. ‘I am now.’
This was accompanied by a slanting smile that would bring Hollywood to its knees.
‘It’s been back-to-back business meetings for me before tonight,’ he explained, his face turning serious, which was another great look for him. ‘I just finished another meeting.’
‘So you’re staying here at the hotel?’
She blushed as Raffa held her gaze and frowned slightly. He probably thought she was coming on to him, when that was a typical example of Leila Skavanga out of her depth and swimming frantically to reach the shore. Or, to put it another way: she had zero small talk.
Fortunately, Raffa had turned to assess the logistics of making it through the door without being trampled on. ‘It seems to have quietened down a bit. Shall we go in?’
‘Oh, I can make it from here,’ she insisted, guessing he was longing to get away.
‘Don’t look so worried, Leila,’ he said, smiling. ‘You’re going to love the party. Trust me...’
Trust Raffa Leon? When everyone knew his reputation? ‘I’d better find my sisters, but thank you for your assurance—and for your great save,’ she added as an afterthought, smiling.
‘Don’t mention it.’
His eyes were warm and luminous, and they plumbed deep, considering Raffa Leon was practically a stranger. This only made her more determined to stick to her original plan, which was to share a quick drink with her sisters, eat dinner—without spilling food down her, if possible—and then indulge in a little non-controversial chit-chat before shooting off as soon as she politely could.
‘You’re shivering, Leila—’
Oh... She was, she realised now.
‘And you’re laughing?’
She bit her lip, to stop thinking about the Raffa effect, and how her shivering had nothing to do with the freezing cold.
‘Here—put my overcoat on...’
‘Oh, no, I—’
Too late! She might have a perfectly good jacket, but Raffa’s reflexes were too fast for her and now she had his coat draped round her shoulders. It was hard to pretend she wasn’t distracted by his residual heat in the coat, or by the fact that it still carried the faint imprint of his cologne.
‘How did you get all this mud on your dress, Leila?’
As he noticed everything she decided to make a joke of it. ‘I...um...slipped away for a minute?’
He laughed. ‘And I thought I saved you.’
‘Almost.’
‘Next time I’ll have to do better.’
‘Hopefully, there won’t be a next time. It was my fault for chatting to the cabbie instead of looking where I was going.’
Raffa’s mouth kicked up at one corner as his eyes lit in a conspiratorial smile. ‘The landing wasn’t too hard, I hope?’
It was hard not to laugh. ‘Only my pride got bruised.’
‘I think we’d better go inside before you have another accident, don’t you, Leila?’
His smile was indefensibly sexy, she concluded, dragging her gaze away, but it was nice to have a man take care of her for once, especially when she was Ms Independence—not that she was going to make a habit of it, but for a few short minutes on this one special night, it couldn’t hurt to lap up his aura, and she was quite sure Don Leon would find some excuse or other to part company as soon as they were inside the hotel.
* * *
So, he’d finally met the third Skavanga sister. And for longer than a ten-second handshake in a receiving line. She had turned out to be quite a surprise. Tense, but funny, Leila Skavanga was hugely lacking in self-confidence for some reason. He didn’t blame her for not relishing the prospect of a party—false smiles and meaningless chit-chat weren’t his favourite form of recreation either.
It was hard being the youngest in a family, as he knew only too well, though he’d broken free of the constraints imposed on him at a young age. When he’d been young, with absentee parents, and three older brothers to kick him around, not to mention two older sisters, who took great pleasure finishing the job, it was no surprise he’d turned out to be a handful. In his experience you went one of two ways as the youngest child: determined and driven, as he was, or retiring and apologetic, like Leila Skavanga.
‘Let’s find the restroom first, to sort out your clothes,’ he suggested as soon as they were inside the hotel. He was feeling unusually protective towards this woman, he realised as Leila glanced at him.
‘That was my plan,’ she confirmed as if to let him know that she was setting the ground rules—and she could look after herself, thank you very much.
‘Before I intercepted you?’
‘Before I landed in your lap,’ she corrected him.
He laughed into her eyes. He liked the defiance he saw there. There was more to Leila Skavanga than met the eye. But then her cheeks flushed red and she looked away.
Why was she embarrassed? Too much physical contact? Too much physical contact with him?
Could Leila really be that innocent? His ingénue radar—rusty from lack of use—said yes. Her sisters weren’t noted for being shy and retiring, which only made Leila all the more intriguing. And when she turned to look at him with eyes that, apart from being very beautiful, were wide and candid, he registered a most definite physical response.
‘Come,’ he said, forging a passage for her through the crowd. ‘Let’s get you sorted out so you can enjoy the party.’
Leila bit her lip to hide her smile. The thought of Raffa Leon ‘sorting her out’ was rather appealing. Thank goodness she had more sense.
There was one good thing about all this. Everyone was so busy staring at Raffa as they walked through the lobby that no one noticed Leila, or the mud on her clothes.
Shame on you, Leila Skavanga! Wasn’t this supposed to be your breakout year?
Pegged as the dreamer of the family—the youngest, the quietest, the peacemaker—if she was ever going to break out of that safe, cosy mould, she had to change, and she had to change now. But not all those changes had to happen tonight. In fact, it would be safer if they didn’t. When she had made that promise to herself that she would change, and that she could change, she hadn’t factored the devil at her side into the equation. Don Rafael Leon, the Duke of Cantalabria, to give Raffa his full title, was not the sort of man to practise anything on. She had set her heart on finding the modern-day equivalent of a pipe and slippers man—someone undemanding and kind. Someone safe. And Raffa Leon was not safe.
So what about his chivalry towards her?
Innate politeness, she decided. Even great whites had the decency to circle you before they struck.
She exclaimed as Raffa grabbed her hands to draw her in front of him beneath the searching light of one of the hotel’s glittering chandeliers.
‘Dios, Leila! This is worse than I thought!’
Standing back, he stared long and hard at her ruined clothes, while she was only capable of registering the unaccustomed heat flooding through her.
‘Are you sure you didn’t hurt yourself?’ Raffa demanded.
‘No, not at all...’ She just wanted to stand there for a moment longer, enjoying the heat and strength in his hands. How cold and limp hers must seem by comparison, she thought, tightening her grip. She quickly released her grip, realising she had given Raffa entirely the wrong message.
‘Well, I’m not going to let you out of my sight tonight,’ he said with a hint of humour in his eyes as if he knew how awkward she felt having touched him. ‘We can’t risk any more accidents.’
‘Agreed,’ she murmured, still staring at him like a loon.
‘The restroom, Leila?’
‘Of course.’ Mentally, she shook herself. ‘And, really, I’m fine—I can handle it.’
‘Can you?’
‘Without you,’ she confirmed pleasantly.
So ignore my wishes, she thought as Raffa drew her by the hand across the lobby, where the crowd parted for him like the Red Sea.
‘I’m sure you’ve got places to be, people to meet, Raffa.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Right here with you, making sure the rest of your evening goes better than the start has. And you’re not keeping me, Leila. Any excuse to avoid a night of small talk with people I don’t know, don’t want to know and will never see again.’ At this point he gave a delicious Latin shrug that drew her gaze to the width of his shoulders. ‘Getting away from the crowd is great for me, Leila.’
She’d felt exactly the same when she’d left the house, but only because she was so shy in a crowd of people she didn’t know, which surely couldn’t be Raffa’s problem.
‘I’ve been thinking back to Britt’s wedding,’ Raffa admitted as they waited their turn in the queue for the cloakroom. ‘I remember you playing tag with those tiny flower girls. You did a great job of keeping them entertained.’
‘I enjoyed it too,’ she admitted. ‘I’m afraid sophistication is not my middle name.’
‘Some might call it charming, Leila.’
Her secret was out. She loved children. In fact, she loved children and animals more than most adults outside her family, because they were straightforward and she wasn’t good at playing mind games.
‘Our turn,’ Raffa prompted with his hand in the small of her back as the queue to the cloakroom cleared.
His touch lit every part of her with awareness. Maybe because his hand was so strong, and his touch was so light...
‘So, you like children?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Handing his borrowed jacket over, she turned to face the man she was sure would rather be a million miles away and hit back defensively. ‘As a matter of fact, I can’t wait to have children. I just don’t want the man.’
Raffa’s lips pressed down in the most attractive way. ‘Could be awkward.’
She frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Biology?’
If there was some sort of danger/beware register, Raffa should be put on it, Leila decided as he flashed his wicked smile.
She had a lucky escape from more verbal jousting when her gorgeous sister Britt chose that moment to enter the hotel on the arm of her handsome sheikh. Spotting them immediately, Britt gave Leila a what-the-heck-are-you-doing-with-him? look, swiftly followed by a jerk of her beautiful blonde head in the direction of the elevators—a signal that Leila should get herself out of trouble and up to the family suite pronto, before she got herself into deeper water with the most dangerous man in town.
She returned Britt’s look with a slanting smile that said, do I have to?
Did she want to? That was the question.
Britt shrugged as if to say, on your head be it.
It was all right for Britt. Fantastic in company like Leila’s other sister, Eva, Britt would be an asset to any gathering, while Leila would only get in the way if she went up to the suite Britt had taken for her pre-party gathering.
‘Put your ticket away safely, Leila.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Your cloakroom ticket,’ Raffa prompted, handing it over. ‘Now get yourself into the restroom to sort out your dress. And, okay—’ His gaze descended and lingered for quite some time. ‘Your stockings are shot.’
‘My tights,’ she corrected him primly.
‘Please don’t disillusion me.’
That smile!
Her equilibrium having been taken and turned upside down, it was definitely time to take a short break from the hottest man around. ‘Don’t bother waiting up for me,’ she called over her shoulder with a grin as she headed at speed for the restroom.
She’d given him an out. Hopefully, he’d take the hint. Leaning over the washbasin, she took a much-needed moment to catch her breath. Forget the dress. Forget the mud. Her mind was full of the man outside that door. Would he wait for her? Almost certainly not, thank goodness. No one had ever had this sort of effect on her before. Which had to mean she was certifiably crazy. Raffa Leon had a reputation that made Casanova look like a choirboy. He was single because he played the field. And she had no intention of applying to become a member of his team.
Pulling back from the basin, she tore off a strip of paper towel and, wetting it, cleaned the mud off her dress. The dress was soon okay-ish, but, as Raffa had clearly identified, her tights were ruined. Stripping them off, she dumped them in the bin.
Bare legs?
She pulled a face. Chalk legs weren’t exactly the look she’d been aiming for, but who would notice?
Raffa.
Raffa noticed everything.
But he probably wouldn’t even speak to her again that night. And if he did, wasn’t this year supposed to be about chilling out and freeing herself to do some of the things she had longed to do—like travelling, like meeting new people, for instance? And if he was waiting outside the door for her, why shouldn’t she allow him to escort her to the party? Britt and Eva wouldn’t miss her up in their suite. They would be heavily into hosting cocktails and canapés by now. And Raffa was surely more entertaining than the mayor of Skavanga, whose unofficial job it was to make a wallflower feel valued. Or the elderly vicar, who could always be relied upon to give Leila a pep talk on finding a husband before it was too late.
Too late at twenty-two?
And who needed a husband, anyway? All she wanted was a child—children, preferably. She was perennially broody. And, in the unlikely event that Raffa was desperate enough to be outside that door, she would be well chaperoned at the party. Britt and Eva would be there with their partners, along with a hundred or so guests. And it wasn’t every day she got to swap small talk with a billionaire.
So... Would he be there? Or would Raffa Leon have breathed a sigh of relief the moment she closed the restroom door and made his escape? Before her courage deserted her completely, she opened the door to find out.
‘Leila.’
‘Raffa...’
So far, so disastrous. One glance into those laughing dark eyes and she could hardly breathe. Raffa looked amazing—even more than amazing. In a dark, formal suit that moulded his powerful body to perfection, he was taller than most of the other men present, and exuded energy like a fighter jet amongst a fleet of biplanes.
‘I apologise for keeping you waiting so long.’
‘It was worth the wait, Leila. You look sensational.’
What? She stopped just short of rolling her eyes. Then, remembering this was another example of his practised charm, she filed his compliment away under Trivia.
‘Well, at least I’m mud free,’ she agreed, glancing down at her clothes. Unfortunately, under the lights they still looked a bit ropey. ‘I had to take my tights off—’
Uh? What kind of message did that send?
There was laughter in Raffa’s eyes, but now she couldn’t stop herself and nerves were starting to make her babble. ‘Bare legs... Well... White legs, actually—’
Good of you to point it out, she could imagine him thinking.
Great legs, he thought. And the rest was very nicely packaged too. Leila was wearing the same dress she’d worn at Britt’s wedding when she had been playing with the children. He remembered it now.
‘Britt’s dress,’ Leila said, seeing him look at it. ‘I wore it at my sister’s wedding.’
‘I remember.’ And Leila would win any Who-looks-best-in-this-dress? contest hands down.
‘It’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen,’ she rattled on as if she had to excuse the fact that she was wearing something that suited her so well. ‘I begged Britt not to go to the expense of buying some silly bridesmaid’s dress I’d never wear again—and, look! Here I am, wearing it again! That’s what I call getting your money’s worth...’
As Leila’s hectic explanation petered out, he hummed, wondering why she didn’t have any pretty dresses of her own to wear.
And why should he care?
‘It’s a bit too tight,’ she said, getting her second wind. ‘Britt’s so slim—’
The tighter the better, as far as he was concerned. He’d never gone for the half-starved look. The dress would always look better on Leila because she was voluptuous.
‘I don’t go to many parties. Don’t feel sorry for me,’ she insisted before he had chance to say a word. ‘I usually hang out somewhere quieter than this—’
‘My preference too,’ he said, shielding Leila with his arm as more guests piled into the lobby. Quiet rooms and hot women would be his preference every time. ‘Here’s an idea—’ He had stopped in front of the elevator. ‘There’s a quiet lounge just down this corridor. Why don’t we take five? It would give you chance to recover your composure.’ And calm down a bit, he thought.
‘You mean, I look a mess?’
She looked adorable and so trusting as she turned her face up to his. Well, she was safe tonight. He had already reined in his thoughts from champagne and seduction to soft drinks and a few very necessary moments of calm for Leila. She needed to relax before facing the bright lights of the party, and, surprising even himself, he wanted to get to know her a little better. ‘Come on—let’s get out of this crush. The party isn’t due to start for another half hour,’ he reassured her when she looked doubtful. ‘We won’t be missed.’
‘But my sisters are expecting me.’
‘Your sisters will be so busy doing what they do well, they won’t miss either of us.’
Opening the door on the tempting setting of a quiet lounge, he stood back. They wouldn’t be alone. There were quite a few residents who weren’t going to the party sitting around reading newspapers and chatting quietly, and there was a big, welcoming log fire burning lustily in the grate. There were still plenty of cosy armchairs where they could sit and chat without being overheard. It was the perfect spot for a girl who wasn’t sure of herself yet, or of her companion.
‘This is lovely,’ Leila said with relief, gazing round.
‘Orange juice?’ he suggested.
‘With a splash of lemonade, please. How did you know?’
He loved the way Leila’s smile lit up her face. ‘Lucky guess.’ Not such a stretch. It was going to be a long night, and, though Leila was reputedly the shyest of the Skavanga sisters, there was a hint of steel about her that suggested she would face the party clear-headed or not at all.
Leila intrigued him, if only because she was so different from her sisters. The middle sister, Eva, whose eve-of-wedding party this was, could be a headstrong handful, while Britt was a hard-nosed businesswoman who only softened for her sheikh. Leila’s sisters and her brother, Tyr, had clearly protected her when their parents died, as Leila had been so very young when the tragic plane crash happened, but the intuition that had never let him down so far said there was more to Leila Skavanga than simply a sheltered girl who worked in the archive department of the Skavanga mining museum, and he was keen to find out what that was.
CHAPTER TWO
WHAT EXACTLY WAS she doing with Raffa Leon? What could they possibly have to talk about?
Anybody?
She had never done anything so out of character in her life. Yes, Raffa was charming, but he was practically a stranger—and a dangerous one at that, according to her sisters and the rather more scandalous tone of the press. Leila had always been glad she worked in a separate building from the mining company, if only because it put some space between herself and these high-powered, fast-living types.
But didn’t this unexpected encounter with a leading player in the consortium dovetail nicely with her determination to make this her breakout year?
Roar mouse?
Great idea, if she had the courage to summon up something more than a squeak. And what was Raffa up to? Why choose to spend time with her?
‘Shall we sit here?’ he suggested, indicating two comfortable armchairs facing each other across a sleek glass table.
‘Thank you.’
Even this close to such a powerhouse of testosterone made her feel incredibly aware and wary. His deep, velvety voice with that intriguing accent played in her head, and she had to remind herself that sweeping a woman away with whatever means he chose to employ was Raffa Leon’s stock in trade. Though he was hardly out to seduce her with so many other attractive women at the party.
Out of the archive department into the fire, she concluded with amusement as Raffa turned to give their order to the waiter. He looked so relaxed, while she was more like a schoolgirl on parade, sitting stiff and upright in her chair, waiting for the pronouncements of the headmaster.
Raffa knocked that idea on its head the moment he turned back to her. No headmaster on earth looked like this—such compelling dark eyes with that touch of humour, and a wickedly curving mouth.
‘I’m looking forward to a refreshing drink, without having it knocked out of our hands,’ he said, turning up the voltage on his smile.
It took her a moment to speak, she was so captivated, and then she experienced a moment of panic. What could she possibly say to him? How did you launch into a conversation with a notorious billionaire? How’s your yacht? Would that do?
‘What are you smiling at, Leila?’ he enquired, raising one sweeping ebony brow in a way that made her heart stop.
‘Am I smiling?’ She stopped smiling immediately. ‘I was just thinking, this is a great place, isn’t it? Such a good idea of yours.’ She made a point of staring round. Anything was safer than looking at Raffa.
‘It’s good to see you relax,’ he said, his eyes dark like the night and just as full of danger.
Relaxed? Was that what he thought? She doubted any woman could relax around Raffa Leon. He had this way of staring directly into your eyes that made it hard to look away. Impossible to look away, she amended.
So come out of your shell. Live boldly for once.
‘Here’s your juice,’ he said. ‘With a splash of lemonade as requested.’
As he handed it to her he was doing that eye thing—the curving smile, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. It was all too easy to fool herself into thinking he was interested in her, when this was just his way. Raffa Leon was a charming and accomplished seducer, both in business and with women, and she had to get it into her head that this was just an innocent encounter and a refreshing drink. She had never been the type of girl men took up to their room. She was the kid sister they brought into the very public hotel lounge to share an orange juice with before the party.
And she should be pleased about that.
She was pleased. But she would be lying if she tried to pretend it wouldn’t be thrilling to have Raffa look at her with something other than humour in his eyes.
When she leaned forward to pick up her glass, her senses filled with the faint scent of his cologne. It was one of those intoxicating scents, hard to identify, but undoubtedly exclusive. She sat back again, wondering. What now? Raffa seemed content to let the silence hang between them, so maybe it was up to her to break the silence. Live boldly, for once! Pointing through one of the tall arched windows, she drew his attention to the park, picked out in lights at this time of night. ‘My mother used to take me over there to the park when I was a little girl so I could terrorise people on my three-wheeler.’
‘I never saw you as a hoodlum, Leila.’
So how did he see her? Raffa laughed as he set down his drink. A soft drink too, she noted.
Raffa felt his heart stir as he thought about a little girl taking every day with her mother for granted, and a young mother enjoying special time with her youngest child. Those days must have felt as if they would go on for ever. Neither of them could have anticipated Leila’s father’s descent into drunken violence, or the tragic plane crash and loss of life.
‘What are you thinking about now?’ he prompted, though he guessed Leila had inadvertently uncovered memories she didn’t normally share with strangers, and was probably regretting being so open with him. Insanely, he wanted to hug her and tell her it would be all right, but they didn’t know each other well enough for that. They had a party to go to, where Leila would have to be bright and cheerful, or her sisters would want to know why. He didn’t want to leave her shakier than when she’d fallen into his arms outside the hotel. What had begun as basic attraction and curiosity had gained an edge of care. Not that he felt responsible for Leila, and she wouldn’t want that. She’d been doing pretty well on her own up to now.
‘More juice?’
‘Please. Sorry, Raffa, I was miles away.’
Thinking about her mother’s letter, Leila realised as Raffa turned away to order more drinks. She’d been doing a lot of that recently, and she’d had plenty of time to memorise every word over the years.

My darling Leila,
I love you more than life itself, and want you to promise me that you will live your life to the full. You’re only a little girl now, but one day you’ll be a woman with choices to make and I want you to make the right choices.
Don’t be afraid of life, Leila, as I have been. Be bold in all you do—

It still haunted her to think her mother must have known she was in danger—maybe even that Leila’s father would go too far and kill them both. Leila had been too young to understand what had happened at the time of the crash, and it was only later when she was older that her sisters had explained that their father was most likely drunk at the controls of the plane. She’d done some investigating of her own at the local newspaper office and had got the picture of a violent alcoholic and a woman who had been the helpless victim of his rages.
‘Ice in your juice?’ Raffa broke into her thoughts.
‘No. It’s delicious as it is, thank you.’
‘Spanish oranges,’ he said, his dark face brightening with a smile. ‘The best.’
‘You’re partial.’
‘Yes, I am,’ he agreed, holding her gaze a beat too long.
It was long enough for her heart to pound out of control. Raffa was so worldly, and it was almost funny, the two of them being here together, when Skavanga was just one stop on Raffa’s round-the-world tour of his international business interests, and she had never been outside the town except for university, and even then she’d only gone a few miles down the road to the local college. As soon as she had qualified, she’d scuttled back to the place she knew best, the place she felt safest, where she could hide away in the archive department of a mining museum where it was quiet, and where there was no chance of meeting a wife beater, or an alcoholic. Or anyone for that matter.
‘So you’ve stayed in Skavanga all your life, Leila? Leila?’ Raffa prompted, his voice shaking her round.
She’d been trapped in the past, sitting on the stairs, listening to her parents arguing and hearing the inevitable thump when her mother hit the floor. And now, judging by the concerned look on Raffa’s face, he was joining her on this trip down memory lane too.
‘Yes, I’ve been here all my life,’ she confirmed brightly to make up for her lapse in concentration.
She was actually quite good at being jolly. She’d had plenty of practice over the years. Having been totally eclipsed by her beautiful sisters, she’d had the choice of being the mouse in the background, or the jolly sister. She’d perfected both. ‘I’ve always been close to my brother and sisters.’ At least, she had been, until her brother, Tyr, had gone missing.
‘It’s great to have siblings,’ Raffa agreed, ‘even if you don’t always get along.’
‘We get along. I just miss my brother, and I wish I knew where he was.’ Her stare met Raffa’s, but, if he knew where Tyr was, he wasn’t telling. ‘I know it must look to you as if my sisters run roughshod over me, but believe me, Raffa, I can hold my own.’
‘I never doubted it,’ he agreed, to her surprise.
But as Raffa’s smile faded, and a shadow crossed his face, she wondered about his family. She also realised they had relaxed into the last thing she had imagined sharing with Raffa Leon, which was a meaningful conversation.
‘What about you?’ she prompted gently. ‘What about your family, Raffa?’
The look he shot her made her regret asking. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to probe.’
‘That’s all right,’ he said, sitting back. He shrugged. ‘Apart from the three brothers and two sisters I do know about, I’m told I have countless half brothers and sisters across the globe, thanks to the untiring efforts of my father.’
‘And your mother—?’ That was one question she definitely shouldn’t have asked, Leila realised, breaking off when she saw the expression on Raffa’s face. ‘I’m sorry. I—’
‘Don’t be,’ he interrupted. ‘I was lucky enough to spend most of my youth with my grandmother. As soon as my elder brothers and sisters went off to college, my father made it quite clear that he was done with children.’
‘So there was no place at home for you?’
He didn’t answer that. He didn’t need to. What Raffa had told her explained so much about him. He was the lone wolf, dangerous, hidden and unknowable.
‘I’d like to meet your grandmother,’ she said, trying to bring him back to the present. ‘She must be an amazing woman.’
‘To take me on?’ Raffa queried, relaxing into a laugh. ‘She is. And maybe you will meet her one day, Leila.’
He was just being polite, but it was a relief to see him smiling again.
‘And you grew up with your sisters and brother,’ he prompted.
‘Who always teased me unmercifully,’ she confirmed.
‘And you don’t mind that?’
‘I tease them back. Families,’ she added with a smile and a shrug.
Raffa huffed softly and smiled back at her.
His eyes were so incredibly expressive they warmed her right through. The fact that Raffa was as hot as hell should have been warning enough for her to back off, but he was like a magnet drawing her closer, against her will. ‘My sisters tease me because they love me as much as I love them,’ she said to break the sudden electric tension between them. ‘I guess they’re always trying to make up for—’
‘Your mother dying when you were so very young,’ Raffa cut in.
The concern on his face surprised her. ‘I suppose... Anyway, they’ve been great.’ Massive understatement. ‘Tyr too—’ She stopped as the familiar ache washed over her.
‘Your brother will come home one day soon, Leila.’
‘You say that with such certainty. Have you heard from Tyr?’ There was excitement in her voice, but Raffa disappointed her by saying nothing. And why was she surprised? Leila and her sisters had always suspected that the three men in the consortium knew exactly where Tyr was, but none of them would reveal his whereabouts. The four men had been at school together, and then again in Special Forces, so their loyalties cut deep. But still, she had to try. ‘All I care about is that he’s safe, Raffa.’
Her heart lurched as she stared deep into eyes that held her gaze steadily.
‘Please don’t ask me questions about your brother, Leila, because I can’t tell you the answers you want to hear.’
‘You won’t tell me,’ she argued.
‘That’s right,’ Raffa agreed levelly. ‘I won’t.’
‘But perhaps you could tell me he’s safe?’
There was a long pause, and then Raffa said, ‘He’s safe.’
‘Thank you.’ Relief flooded through her as she sat back. Tyr was safe. That was all she needed to hear, and the thought that Raffa knew her brother so well made everything she’d heard about him pale into insignificance.
‘Tell me about your job at the museum, Leila.’
She relaxed. There was nothing she loved more than talking about her job. She enjoyed working at the museum so much she could talk about it endlessly. ‘It’s my passion—’ She didn’t need to try now. The words just came pouring out. ‘I’d love to show you round. It’s amazing. I wish you could see all the things we’ve found. To think my ancestors used them. And every day there’s a new discovery...’ She stopped in case she was boring him, but Raffa encouraged her to go on. And so it all came pouring out—her plans for the museum, her hopes and dreams for the future of the work she loved, her classes, her workshops, her tours, the exhibitions she had planned.
‘I am so sorry,’ she said at last. ‘I must have bored the socks off you. No one can stop me once I get talking about the museum.’
‘On the contrary, I don’t want to stop you,’ he insisted, ‘though it is a revelation to discover you’re not the quiet sister after all.’
‘I’m not quiet at all,’ she assured him.
No. Leila just needed the chance to be heard, he thought.
‘What are you doing?’ she said when he took the glass from her hand.
‘I think we should go to the party. Have you seen the time?’
‘No. Goodness me!’ she exclaimed, springing up. ‘I have been boring you!’
‘Not at all,’ he insisted. ‘Far from it. This evening has turned out far better than I anticipated, and we haven’t even reached the party yet.’
We?
She laughed as Raffa smiled back at her. Even if he was just being polite, she was having a great time. Raffa Leon was so much more than she had expected in every way. It was hard not to be attracted to him—impossible. Which was in itself crazy. Who invited trouble, unless they were completely mad?
She did, apparently.
‘So, are you completely recovered after your tumble?’ he said as he escorted her across the crowded lobby.
‘Completely,’ she confirmed. ‘And thank you for the drink. I feel ready for anything now.’
When Raffa laughed at this, she realised he must think her quaint and old-fashioned; sheltered, certainly.
‘If I were as honest as you, Leila, I would never have succeeded in business,’ he confided to her obvious alarm. ‘Meaning everything shows on your face,’ he was quick to explain when she frowned. ‘I’m not quite the big bad wolf I’m reported to be.’
‘But close.’ She laughed.
He laughed too. It was good to see Leila relaxed. And he wanted her to know he did have principles. He didn’t want her fretting about some rogue buying into her family business. Leila had certainly brought out the best in him. And that was a first.
‘And now to find your sisters,’ he said, realising that with any other attractive woman, finding her sisters would be the last thing on his mind.
‘Must we?’
* * *
Leila had spoken without thinking, he realised as her cheeks flushed red. She was enjoying being relaxed. She’d never been keen to join the pre-party scrum in Britt’s suite.
‘We don’t have to go up to Britt’s suite,’ he reassured her. ‘We can meet your sisters in the ballroom at our table. I’m looking forward to seeing the three of you together. Life is never boring with a Skavanga sister, so they tell me.’
‘They’re right,’ Leila admitted wryly. ‘Just your bad luck you got landed with me.’
‘Am I complaining?’
She flashed him a mischievous look, and as her mouth curved in a smile Leila’s eyes lit in a way that made him want to know more about this youngest Skavanga sister. It hit him out of nowhere that his grandmother would love her. His abuelita, as cute little grannies were known in Spain, was never off his case, always insisting he must find himself a good woman. He would do a lot of things for Abuelita, but not that, though his grandmother would put the bunting out if he brought a girl like Leila home.
And hadn’t Leila said she wanted to meet his grandmother?
He glanced at her, thinking the best thing about Leila was she had no idea how attractive she was, and in his world that was definitely a breath of fresh air.
They were halfway across the ballroom when she got a call on her phone. ‘Britt,’ she mouthed. As she pressed the receiver to her ear her cheeks turned scarlet. He gathered she wasn’t having the easiest of conversations with her sister.
‘She wanted to know where I was,’ Leila explained when she ended the call.
‘I hope you told her, living dangerously?’
‘With the big bad wolf? Yes, I did, as it happens.’
‘And your sister hit the roof?’
‘Pretty much.’
They shared an amused look.
‘Do you believe everything you’ve heard about me, Leila?’
For a moment she didn’t speak, but then she said quite bluntly, ‘I don’t know you well enough to pass judgement yet.’
He laughed at that. ‘When you do—you will let me know?’
‘I’ll make sure of it.’
She hadn’t told Raffa the whole truth about her conversation with Britt, who was clearly worried about her, and who had yelled in alarm at the prospect of her baby sister spending even one minute alone in the company of the notorious Raffa Leon. Worse luck, Raffa had turned out to be the perfect gentleman, though it might be fun to tease her sisters. It wasn’t often Leila caused comment.
‘You did reassure Britt?’ Raffa commented as they approached the table.
‘Actually, no,’ she admitted. ‘For once in my life, I was enigmatic. I was only having a bit of fun, but I couldn’t resist it. My sisters tease me constantly, so this was my chance to get them back.’
‘Well, I’m happy to go along with however you want to play it,’ Raffa assured her, his dark eyes glinting in a way that filled her mind with all sorts of outrageous possibilities.
‘I might take you up on that.’
‘Please do.’
His smile could travel to places she had forgotten about, in no time flat. ‘Then I will,’ she added with a smile and a shrug, thinking this evening was going to be fun.
‘Tonight will see Leila Skavanga come to the fore,’ Raffa promised as he held her chair.
‘But I don’t want to upset them,’ Leila was quick to add. ‘Britt has gone to a lot of trouble to arrange the party for Eva, and I don’t want anything to spoil Eva’s night.’
‘I promise you, it won’t,’ Raffa agreed, ‘not through anything I do, anyway, though there’s nothing to prevent us having a bit of fun. I just hope with all the Skavanga Diamonds glittering at once you don’t dazzle me into a stupor.’
‘No chance of that,’ Leila said, laughing at Raffa’s expression as she sat down.
Warmth flooded her as Raffa sat down in the next chair, close but not too close, almost touching but not touching, in a way that made her thighs tingle.
‘You can rely on me to back you up with enough smouldering looks and dirty dancing to shock your sisters out of their killer shoes.’
‘Wonderful.’ Did she mean to say that? Yes, she did. ‘That should make my home life a whole lot easier,’ she commented dryly.
‘Any time I can be of service...’
And this was a really bad time to be holding Raffa’s stare. His eyes were dancing with laughter, which told her nothing about his thoughts, but if this connection between them was only for tonight, it was the most fun she’d had in a long time. And now Britt and Eva had arrived in the ballroom on the arms of their handsome partners, bringing an end to their conversation as every head in the ballroom swivelled round.
‘Don’t look so worried, Leila,’ Raffa murmured, leaning in close. ‘I promise not to do anything that might upset them.’
Once she stared at Raffa it was hard to look away. ‘Something tells me Eva and Britt aren’t going to believe we’ve been sitting, chatting in the lounge all this time.’
And the truth was even more complicated than that, Leila realised. Both of them had touched on subjects she guessed neither of them would dream of discussing with a stranger, and the connection she’d sensed between them at first had grown stronger because of it.
‘You’ll just have to put up with your sisters’ suspicions,’ Raffa said pragmatically, leaning back as he prepared to stand to greet their dinner companions.
‘Just so long as we don’t take this too far,’ Leila agreed, already wondering what she’d got herself into as Raffa turned to bestow a lingering look on her face.
‘You and I know what went on.’
Precisely nothing, she thought as the most handsome man in the room went on to list their harmless pastimes. ‘You drank juice. We talked. We relaxed. But there’s no way on earth your sisters are going to believe that, so unless you’d rather pretend we haven’t been together every second since you arrived at the hotel—’
‘You make our innocent time together sound so bad.’
‘What fun would it be otherwise?’ he murmured.
She hummed as Raffa’s black gaze bored deep into hers.
‘Let the teasing begin,’ he said.
Had it already? she wondered as Raffa leaned in close. And was she the main target? If Britt and Eva had been suspicious before, seeing the two of them like this, so close they were practically kissing, would turn her sisters into tireless seekers after the truth. But she hadn’t done anything wrong. She was following the advice in her mother’s letter and being bold.
And even when Raffa smiled his slow, sexy smile, she asked herself, was it likely Britt and Eva would imagine she’d had hot monkey sex with Raffa Leon?
Absolutely not!
So what did she have to worry about?
She could relax.
Britt and Eva stared first at Raffa, and then at their sister. ‘Well,’ Britt said, smiling as they greeted her. ‘Here you are, Leila.’ She exchanged an arch-browed look with Eva.
‘I’m really sorry we missed the reception upstairs,’ Leila began, slipping easily back into the role of peacemaker, ‘but—’
‘But we got talking,’ Raffa intervened smoothly.
‘I’m sure you did,’ Eva agreed dryly.
‘We were in the lounge,’ Leila chipped in.
‘Of course you were,’ Britt agreed.
Raffa was right. They were never going to believe her. She glanced at him, only for Raffa to give her an amused and conspiratorial look. Let the teasing begin, he’d said. But let’s not overdo it, her eyes begged him as her sisters sat down. This was Eva’s special night, and she didn’t want anything to spoil it.
Raffa returned her look with a reassuring expression. She’d never had a co-conspirator before. And it was quite incredible to think she belonged with such a party of swans, Leila mused as everyone started talking at once. Eva looked off-the-scale stunning, with her long, flame-red hair caught back on either side of her beautiful face with glittering diamond combs, her fabulous figure displayed in a floor-length, body-hugging gown of flesh-coloured lace, embellished with tiny crystals. And the heat flying between Eva and Count Roman Quisvada, the man she would marry tomorrow, was off the scale.
Would a man ever look at her that way? Leila wondered as she turned her attention to Britt, whose husband, Sheikh Sharif, was currently shooting intensely personal messages into his wife’s eyes. With her icy Nordic looks, imposing height and slender figure, Britt was the perfect foil for her Arabian prince, and there was such closeness between them, Leila couldn’t help but feel wistful.
There was such an overload of glamour at their table they were the focus of the room. Three amazing-looking men, two fabulous-looking women...and Leila. Her sisters set a standard she couldn’t hope to compete with, but for one night, with Raffa at her side, she was going to give it a shot.
‘Would you like me to help you choose from the menu, Leila?’ Raffa murmured, leaning in close.
Britt and Eva were instantly on alert, but she felt obliged to point out, ‘It’s a fixed menu.’
‘So it is,’ Raffa agreed, not losing eye contact with her for a moment.
It was going to be hard remembering this was just pretence, but a glance at her sisters reassured her they were convinced.
‘Would you like me to read the menu out to you?’ Raffa now suggested.
‘Yes, please,’ she said, sitting back with the air of a woman for whom men peeled grapes.
Britt and Eva had designed the menu between them and Leila soon realised that her sisters had chosen food which was impossible to eat without appearing provocative—a look Leila was keen to avoid tonight, even if her intention was to tease them, as she had to balance the game with not taking things too far with Raffa.
The appetiser was a small baked cheese drizzled with truffle oil on a bed of salad leaves...
‘Don’t you like cheese, Leila?’
As Raffa asked the question Britt and Eva stared at her. She loved cheese and they knew it. Britt had probably designed this first course with Leila’s preferences in mind. But the thought of all that soft, warm cheese glistening on her lips—
‘Shall we swap plates?’ Raffa suggested.
She lifted the plate. He reached for it, and their fingers touched. Heat exploded inside her. Her gasp could probably be heard in the car park.
‘I love a man with a healthy appetite,’ Britt commented, flashing a look at Eva.
‘What’s the matter, baby sister?’ Eva contributed, picking up the virtual ball Britt had just lobbed across the net. ‘Not enough hot food for you around this table?’
‘I’ve got an enormous appetite,’ Raffa confessed with every appearance of innocence. ‘If any of you don’t want your food, please pass it my way.’
The other men registered small smiles at this, while Britt and Eva exchanged a knowing look.
Okay. She got it. Leila was Little Red Riding Hood paired with the big bad wolf for the night. She gave her sisters a warning look, but they just smiled and raised a brow. As long as she could handle it, they were okay with it. Now she just had to watch out that the joke didn’t end up on her.
The next course was asparagus, which was possibly Leila’s favourite food, but the way Eva was sucking the butter off the tip...
‘I can’t believe you’re not eating this,’ Raffa scolded when she again offered to exchange her plate with him, but his eyes were laughing, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
‘I don’t want to risk butter dripping down my dress.’ She raised a brow at him, conscious that her sisters were watching them closely. ‘This dress has been through enough adventures for one night, don’t you agree, Raffa?’
As Britt and Eva exchanged a look, Leila appeared to change her mind, and, lifting a buttery spear to her lips, she sucked on it thoughtfully.
‘Here—have another one if you’re hungry,’ he prompted in a way that made her breath catch.
Her sisters were transfixed by now, while the look in Raffa’s eyes wasn’t doing all that much for her own equilibrium. It was just an act, she told herself, until he captured some butter from her lips on his thumb and sucked it clean. She felt an answering pulse of pleasure with each lazy tug of his mouth. It was such a sexy, intimate thing for him to do.
And she should look away.
When it came to the entrée, a black pepper filet mignon with a blob of Gorgonzola on top, resting on a bed of wilted spinach, she was still watching Raffa eat.
‘Hmm, delicious,’ he murmured, savouring the delicious meat. ‘Why aren’t you eating, Leila?’
‘It’s chocolate fondue for pudding,’ Britt remarked innocently.
Okay, there was no leaving this game half played. ‘Chocolate fondue?’ She gazed deep into Raffa’s eyes. ‘My favourite...’
As Raffa paused, fork suspended, she tucked in with relish. This was easy. Where had she been hiding all these years?
‘Leila.’
Why was Raffa whispering?
She turned to look at him with confidence. ‘Yes? What is it? What’s wrong?’
She prickled with awareness as he leaned in close.
‘You’ve got spinach between your teeth...’
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS INEVITABLE the conversation around the table would eventually return to the hottest topic of the night: where had Leila and Raffa been for such a long time? Britt and Eva clearly weren’t convinced by the hotel lounge story.
‘So, what did you two find to talk about up in Raffa’s suite?’ Britt asked casually.
‘We weren’t in Raffa’s suite,’ Leila said patiently. ‘We were chatting in the hotel lounge, surrounded by other guests—’ She was just getting into her stride when her eyes widened with surprise as Raffa’s warm, strong hand covered hers in a cautionary gesture.
‘We were discussing the mining museum, as a matter of fact,’ he commented casually. ‘Leila’s got some great ideas,’ he went on without missing a beat. ‘And I was saying that, as I have one of the finest gem collections in the world, perhaps Leila should visit my island with a view to displaying a selection of her choice in Skavanga.’
The silence was absolute. Everyone was stunned, including Leila. Raffa had just hit them with the conversation stopper of all time. Was that a serious invitation? Or was he still playing games?
‘Just say yes,’ he suggested, easing back on his chair as she looked at him.
For once, Britt had nothing to say, and it was Eva who filled the gap in her usual blunt manner. ‘What are you suggesting?’ she asked Raffa suspiciously, flying in defence of her sister.
‘I’m suggesting Leila comes to Isla Montaña de Fuego to take a look at my jewels,’ Raffa responded quietly.
‘Why?’ Eva was keen to dig deeper before she let him off the hook. ‘Why does Leila need to visit your island? Can’t you bring the gems here?’
‘I wouldn’t presume to make a selection for Leila,’ Raffa explained smoothly, his black stare confirming this with Leila.
‘That’s right.’ Leila’s heart was going crazy as she played along. ‘I can’t wait to see Raffa’s collection. Everyone loves a big diamond, don’t they, Eva?’
Britt and Eva quickly hid their ring hands under the table as Raffa added, ‘Leila sees a great future for the mining museum.’
‘You two have been chatting, haven’t you?’ Eva commented, relaxing back, defeated for once.
As her sisters exchanged a look Leila wondered how long she could keep this up. Visiting Raffa’s island? As if! ‘Yes, Raffa and I have been talking,’ she confirmed blithely. ‘It’s only natural when we’ve got so much in common— The diamonds,’ she added when her sisters stared at her in disbelief.
‘Indeed,’ Eva murmured with amusement. ‘The diamonds. I’d almost forgotten them.’
‘Well, I can’t think of any other reason I’d visit the island—’ As she spoke Leila was conscious of digging an even bigger hole for herself, but somehow she couldn’t stop. ‘As soon as I slipped on the ice and Raffa caught me, I thought—what luck! This is my chance to put my business proposition to him—’
‘Your what?’ Britt interrupted.
Fair enough. She’d gone too far. When were Leila Skavanga and business ever mentioned in the same sentence? Try never.
‘Leila made a very good pitch, actually,’ Raffa said, filling the gap. ‘Water, anyone? Sparkling...? Still...?’
‘Leila is brilliant at her job,’ Britt mused out loud as if she was actually convinced.
‘And has always seen her work as an opportunity to give a whole new generation an insight into the business that put the town on the map,’ Eva added, shooting a proud-sister look at Leila.
Oh, no! Why were her sisters getting involved? She felt really bad now. If only they would stop being so helpful! Didn’t they realise this was all a joke? It so obviously was—
She looked at Raffa, who was giving nothing away. But why pretend to invite her to his island? That was going a bit far, wasn’t it?
She almost jumped out of her skin when he reached across to give her hand a reassuring squeeze, and realised she had to say something quickly to Britt and Eva or they would be completely sucked in. ‘He’s only joking about the trip—even Raffa couldn’t be such a glutton for punishment as to invite me to spend more time with him.’ She shared an amused look with Britt and Eva and saw them relax.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/susan-stephens/the-purest-of-diamonds/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.