Morning had dawned over the beach, streaking pink across the sky over the crystalline waves. A fresh breeze blew through the palm trees overhead, causing tendrils of her blond hair to curl across her beautiful face.
And it was then that he saw it in her face, bright as day. Rose actually cared about him.
The realization jolted him like a kick in the gut. He climbed out of the hammock so quickly that he nearly fell.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.” He straightened, irritated.
“Why did you leave like that last night?” she persisted, in spite of the clear signals. He didn’t wish to discuss it.
“For your own good,” he muttered.
“What?”
Angrily, he whirled on her. “Just leave it alone. Trust me. You slept better last night without my company.”
She stared at him.
“No,” she said in a low voice. “You’re wrong. I didn’t sleep at all.” Her beautiful face was heartbreakingly angelic as she whispered, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Their eyes met, and he couldn’t look away.
He wanted her so badly that his whole body thrummed with it. Painfully. Single-mindedly.
He wanted to take her right here on the deserted beach, to rip off her white cover-up in the pale pink morning, to push her naked body against the sand and kiss and suckle and taste every inch of her skin. He wanted to push himself inside her, to fill her completely, to ride her until she forgot every other lover, until she screamed his name.
Standing before her in yesterday’s T-shirt and jeans, Xerxes held himself still. His hands clenched with the effort it took not to kiss her. “Why were you thinking about me?”
“You try to pretend you’re selfish and cruel,” she said softly. “But I keep thinking about you and coming to one conclusion. You’re a good man.”
He gave a low laugh, like thunder reverberating across the dark sky. “I am not good.” Something snapped inside him and he reached for her shoulders, looking down into her eyes searchingly as he whispered, “But you…you are.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “I’m not so very good. I’ve been feeling quite stupid, actually, driving you away from your bed. The couch, I mean.”
She was stammering, embarrassed. As if she had anything to feel guilty about, when it had been Xerxes who deliberately rented the honeymoon cottage to set the stage for easy seduction! “Don’t worry about it.” He looked down at his clothes, no longer dusty but now stiff from dried seawater. “A night beneath the stars is just what I needed.”
She bit her lip. “Still, I feel badly. No more sleeping outside, all right? Come inside. I’ve made you some breakfast.”
“You did?” He paused, then added dryly, “Is that supposed to be consolation, or punishment?”
“I know how to cook!” she said, sticking out her tongue. “The spaghetti was not my fault. I thought the rice noodles would work.”
He could feel the warmth off her body as he looked down at her. The smile slid from her face as their eyes locked, burning through him.
“Are you sure you can trust me?” he said roughly. “To be alone with you in the cottage?”
Looking up with big eyes, she nodded.
“How do you know?”
“I can feel it. Besides—” she suddenly gave him a cheeky grin “—you gave me a promise.”
She headed toward the cottage. He stared at her for a moment, then followed her, admiring the sweet curve of her backside with every step. She was starting to fill out a bit, he noticed with satisfaction. He would enjoy continuing to fatten her up. He had the sudden image of Rose, rounded and pregnant with his child.
Oh, my God. Sucking in his breath, he stopped in place, nearly slapping himself on the skull. What the hell madness was this?
“This way,” she called. He hurried through the cottage, barely noticing the perfectly swept floors and gleaming kitchen as he hurried past the bedroom door and out onto the lanai. The shadowed patio was still cool in the early morning. He saw she’d set up the little table for two. Next to the coffeepot was a plate with buttered toast and a carefully cut bowl of fruit beside the flowers.
She gave him a grin. “See? I know how to cook.”
“Fruit and toast?”
“I wanted Mrs. Vadi to stay home until her daughter was well.” She looked at him anxiously. “That’s all right, isn’t it? This is what I know how to make.” She gave a sudden giggle. “I know I’m a wretched cook, but I’m actually much better at cleaning than cooking. The cottage looked clean, didn’t it?”
He dimly remembered seeing polished floors and an immaculate kitchen. He hadn’t really noticed. He never really saw the work of servants or employees, he just took the results of their labor for granted. He slowly looked at her.
“This is your idea of a vacation?” He brushed a tendril from her face. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Rose. The way you care so much for other people. The way you try so hard to make everyone else’s life better. You never think of yourself. We’re so different. So very different.”
He heard her intake of breath. She tilted her head, looking up at him. “We’re not.”
Immediate defiance, typical of her. It almost made him choke a laugh. But he couldn’t. How could she believe he had anything good in his soul?
Because she is a fool. Something he would prove to her when he seduced her, luring her into his bed for the express purpose of his own selfish pleasure, coupled with the satisfaction of causing his enemy pain. And then he would trade her.
She reached her hand up toward his rough cheek. “You are a good man. I know you are.” Her eyes were luminous as she whispered, “Why do you do it, Xerxes? Why do you pretend to have no heart?”
Her gentle touch burned him. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear it. He jerked his head away from her hand.
She stared at him in surprise. He was equally surprised. This was the same strange reaction his body had had last night.
You deserve better than a man like me.
Xerxes Novros, who’d fought tycoons, ruthless despots and corrupt businessmen, had been rendered powerless by this beautiful, gentle-hearted woman.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, backing away. “I need to—need to…take a shower.” He glanced down again at the table, at all the effort she’d clearly put into breakfast. She must have been up before dawn to arrange the flowers and cut the fruit; doing everything herself so that the housekeeper could be home with her sick child and working hard so that he, Xerxes, would not be disappointed or angry. “I’ll be back,” he choked out.
Fleeing to the bathroom, he took a very hot shower, but it did not help him relax. So he turned the temperature to freezing cold. But even an arctic blast of cold water couldn’t stop this fire inside him. This fire for her.
She was the first, the only, pure-hearted woman he’d ever known. Who would give up their own sleep, to work for free in place of a stranger who claimed to have a sick child?
Xerxes would not have done it. He didn’t know anyone who would. He would have either assumed the woman was lying about the child—working some angle—or else he would have not wanted to get involved. Not my problem, he would have said.
And yet Rose had immediately said, Yes, I want to help. Sick child? I’ll do all your work. Go home to your daughter!
Xerxes leaned his head against the