to think about him putting her on that massive bed—he’d have held her so closely, he’d have been bent over her...
‘And now here you are, stealing roses, like Beauty.’
‘Does that make you the Beast?’ she asked, pulling her brain back from those unhelpful visions and trying to put some distance between them.
He inclined his head and his gaze lowered, focusing on a spot just behind her. ‘I don’t think your Alex will be pleased to see you’ve mangled his prize rose bush.’
She turned, guiltily regarding the way that rose was now dangling half-torn from the branch. ‘I thought it would snap off easily.’
‘They’re for looking at,’ he said. ‘Not destroying.’
‘I wanted to take one to Alex,’ she confessed, sending him an apologetic look, ‘so he’d see how well they were doing and would stop worrying.’
Rafael glanced at her again, his expression veiled. In the ensuing moment of silence he slowly reached and took her hand again. Gracie hoped he hadn’t felt her tiny shiver at the moment of connection.
He said nothing, just dropped his gaze to study the trail of red snaking across her skin. ‘I really think you need a plaster.’
She couldn’t be ungracious again, not when that trickle of blood had turned into a bit of a stream and she didn’t want to come across as petty or rude. He didn’t deserve that. ‘I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble.’
‘Are you?’ His lashes swiftly lifted, amusement flashing in his eyes. ‘Yet you think I’m a beast?’
She eyed him suspiciously at the mournfulness in his tone. ‘Are you fishing for compliments?’
‘I always need compliments this early in the morning.’
‘You’re not so bad, I suppose,’ she said slowly, but realised, as she said it, that it was true. She huffed out a breath and tried again. ‘Well, actually, you’re really honourable.’ She couldn’t meet his gaze as she walked back to the villa, focusing intently on not slipping over again. The guy had women falling at his feet, she literally couldn’t do that again. ‘I was in a vulnerable position last night and I appreciate you taking care of me. Thank you.’
He didn’t immediately reply and she snuck a look at him. A smile had transformed his face from handsome to heart-stopping and she had to look away again.
‘It was my pleasure,’ he eventually replied. ‘You know, I’ve never had a woman fall asleep...’ he paused meaningfully as he opened the door and waited for her to walk inside ahead of him ‘...in my Ferrari before.’
Oh, he was being Mr Provocative again?
‘You mean in your scintillating company?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You really are a conceited creature.’
‘I did wonder if you’d hit your head, not your knee.’ He laughed, unabashed, and led her through to that glorious kitchen again.
‘So you thought I must have been concussed and that you needed to keep an eye on me?’ Not that she’d been dead tired, hungry and had basically passed out from that one glass of champagne.
‘It seemed the logical conclusion.’ He shrugged with a helpless gesture. But he was so not helpless, he was so very powerful. ‘You fell asleep before I could get your address from you,’ he added. ‘Though I tried to wake you.’
‘Oh?’ She tried to act cool by casually perching on one of the kitchen stools and avoiding eye contact again. ‘How did you try?’
Had it been with a kiss?
Well, duh, of course not. If he’d kissed her again, she’d definitely have woken. And if he’d kissed her again...? Her mind tracked back to that moment by the lake last night. That sensation rushed in, curling her toes, cooking her from the inside out. But she drew a sharp breath. She wasn’t going to mention it. Not to him. Not to anyone. She was only going to remember it when she was all by herself and she’d never admit that she was going to treasure it always. While she’d vowed to be honest, there were some things he didn’t need to know. He was already arrogant enough.
But then she looked at him and her belly flipped.
He knew anyway, didn’t he? He was watching her, his eyes darkening with that wicked gleam of intent. He knew what she was thinking about and he knew how much he affected her. She’d even bet he knew just how much she wanted him to kiss her again. Right now.
Rafe studied Grace for another moment, waiting for her to fill the silence the way any other woman would have already. Was she really going to walk out of here without addressing that kiss? Even when it was clear from her expression that she wanted another?
Yes, it seemed she was. She’d tried to sneak out without saying goodbye—a walking mess of embarrassment. There was no way that kiss was going to be the only one they shared. But he whirled away from her and snatched up a few tissues to press to the wound on her hand. He’d give her time and draw her in.
‘How’s your knee this morning?’ he asked, hiding the fact he felt more invigorated than he’d felt in far too long.
‘A bit sore and bruised but it’s fine.’
He nodded. ‘Hold this and give me a moment, I need to find the first-aid kit.’ He began opening cupboards in the butler’s kitchen. ‘I’m still finding my way around.’
‘You bought the place furnished?’ She appeared in the open doorway and looked at the working pantry with wide eyes.
‘There was some furniture, I believe. Then one of my staff fitted it out with a few essentials after the restoration work was completed.’ He’d deliberately not come to see it before the work was done. He’d wanted it perfect.
‘A few essentials?’ She marvelled with a soft laugh as she studied the chrome coffee machine that wouldn’t look out of place in a restaurant. She walked over and ran a finger along the smooth, gleaming machine and pinned him with that wide, expressive gaze. ‘Do you even know how to use it?’
There was no hiding the edge of judgement in her query.
‘You’d be amazed by the number of things I know how to use,’ he drawled, not telling her he’d already made himself a coffee over an hour ago while he’d been pacing the place, waiting for her to wake up. Opening another cupboard, he pounced on a red box with the words ‘First Aid’ emblazoned across the top. Perfect.
‘I can’t imagine buying a house without having seen it. Do you do that often?’
He glanced at her and saw the amusement dancing in her eyes. He turned back to sift through the selection of plasters. ‘I have a number of properties.’
‘Properties?’ She faced him, that unrepentantly joyous laughter in her voice again. ‘They’re hardly the same as a home.’
He had no need for a home. He needed only space and comfort and a decent bed, and frankly he could get that anywhere. Ideally a hotel with all those extra features, like food on call. Properties, on the other hand, were business. A way to build his empire and the security and success he enjoyed.
‘How many properties do you have?’ he asked acidly.
‘I own none as yet, but I only want one home. Definitely only need one. I have no desire to trot around the globe.’
‘No? Not even in a private jet?’ He played up to her pious little performance. ‘Maybe you should try it sometime. You might find it’s not so bad.’
‘And isolate myself completely from the rest of the world?’ She shook her head. ‘I actually want to know my neighbours. Not keep them out with my fancy gates and scary beeping security system and private transport.’
‘You want to know them?’ He shuddered theatrically and fished