Deal With the Devil--3 Book Box Set

Carly could scarcely believe such words had come from her own lips. Words that, no matter how demurely she had spoken them, could surely only convey to Ricardo a very provocative message.

Ricardo turned his head to look at her. That was more like it!

The look in those dark eyes was quite unmistakable, Carly recognised, as her heart missed a beat and sweet, hot, sensual arousal poured through her body like warm honey.

‘We’re here.’

‘What? Oh. Yes.’

She had actually blushed, Ricardo marvelled as he stopped the car. And her nipples were standing out beneath the fabric of her tee shirt in flagrant sexual arousal.

Ridiculously, suddenly he was as hot for her as though he were a mere youth and this was his first time.

She might as well ask for his help and get it out of the way now, Carly decided. Because once they got inside…

Once they got inside what? Once they got inside she hoped he would take her to bed?

Her thoughts were leaving her torn between shock and delight. And urgency! Suddenly she wanted very much to get the matter of her need for a short-term loan and her discomfort about mentioning it to him out of the way.

So that she could be free to encourage him to flirt with her and ultimately—maybe—take her to bed without it hanging over her?

The unfamiliar recklessness of her own thoughts took some getting used to. But she wasn’t tempted to abandon them, was she?

So first things first, and then…

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

‘Ricardo…I…er…’

The husky little catch in her voice was very effective, Ricardo thought, as he waited for her to continue.

‘I feel very uncomfortable about this, but…’

‘Yes?’ he encouraged when she pretended to falter. After all, he reasoned cynically, the sooner he could get this farce over with, the sooner he could satisfy the itch to possess her that had now become an almighty, savage, unignorable ache.

Carly took heart from the kindness in Ricardo’s patient encouragement.

‘I need to replace some of the things that were in my suitcase. I don’t want to worry Lucy—it’s my job to deal with the accounts, after all—and…And I know this is…’ Her face had started to burn. ‘I was wondering if I could ask you to lend me some money—just temporarily, of course.’

Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? Carly wondered, feeling acutely embarrassed. Just listening to herself as she stumbled over her words made her go cold with horror at what she was doing. And if she found her request unacceptable, then what on earth must Ricardo be thinking?

‘I feel dreadful about this,’ she admitted honestly, ‘but I can’t think of what else I can do.’

Really? Didn’t she possess a bank account of her own? A credit card? A debit card? The ability to walk into a bank?

‘It would just be a loan. I would pay you back, of course…’

Indeed she would—and with interest.

Several different potential responses presented themselves to him, but in the end he decided that, since Carly was so patently thick-skinned, he might as well go for the oldest and least believable of all of them.

So he smiled at her, and then he took hold of her hand and patted it. And then he told her smoothly, ‘I shall be delighted to help you. How much do you think you will need?’

She was gazing at him starry-eyed, her face slightly flushed, her lips slightly parted, as though she could hardly believe her good fortune.

Such a heroic effort deserved a generous reward, Ricardo decided cynically.

‘Wait! I’ve had a better idea.’ But she, of course, had no doubt already had the same idea before him. ‘Why don’t we go into St Tropez together tomorrow and you can choose whatever you think you may need?’

For some reason she didn’t look as delighted as Ricardo had expected.

Ricardo had made her a wonderful offer, but she was not sure it was one she felt comfortable with, Carly reflected, as she thanked him.

‘That’s very generous of you.’

‘I’m delighted to be able to help,’ Ricardo assured her, before adding, ‘Come on, let’s go inside.’

Carly was used to staying in beautiful and magnificent properties, but the Villa Mimosa was truly breathtaking. Its setting alone—tucked into a hillside, overlooking the Mediterranean—provided a view that must surely always catch at the heart.

From the balcony of her bedroom she could look out over immaculate gardens and across a miraculous infinity pool to the horizon, and although it was a couple of hours now since they had arrived at the villa she still kept going to the balcony and gazing at the view.

The middle-aged Frenchwoman who had welcomed them had explained that she was the maid but that she did not live in. Cathy must have looked rather surprised at that, she realised, because after she had left them Ricardo had explained to her that he preferred to have his own personal staff on hand or do without.

‘My own people know how I like things done, and they know too that I like my privacy. It’s mid-afternoon now, and I have some business matters to attend to,’ he had told her, ‘so why don’t we agree to meet up on the terrace at, say, six? My choice would be for us to eat in,’ he had added suavely. ‘I can arrange to have something delivered.’

Carly had felt her heart miss a couple of beats at the potential implications of dining alone with him.

‘That sounds perfect,’ she had ans

wered, and then worried when she had seen the gleam in his eyes that she had sounded naïvely over-enthusiastic.

Six o’clock, he had said. And it was five now. She might not have anything to change in to, but she certainly intended to shower and tidy herself up.

Half an hour later, showered and still wearing the thick towelling robe she had found hanging up in the bathroom, she was just brushing her hair when she heard a soft tap on her bedroom door. It opened and Ricardo walked in, carrying two well filled champagne glasses.

‘I’ve mixed you a Bellini. I hope you like them.’

‘Oh, yes. Yes, I do,’ she agreed.

Unlike her, he was fully dressed, in dark linen trousers and a white linen shirt, his bare brown feet thrust into soft plain leather sandals.

He came over to where she was sitting and put one glass down on the glass-topped dressing table, then held the other out to her.

‘Try it first,’ he urged her.

Sipping from a glass whilst he held it surely shouldn’t be such a sensually intimate experience, should it? And why couldn’t she stop looking at the long brown fingers curled round the stem of the glass? She tried to focus on something else, but discovered that the only other thing to focus on was his body, and that the place where the line of his trousers was broken by a telltale bulge was exactly on her eye line. And, what was worse, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from gazing appreciatively at it.

‘It’s lovely,’ she assured him hurriedly, taking a sip and then turning away. ‘I hadn’t realised that was the time. I’d better hurry up and get dressed.’

He gave a small shrug.

‘You might as well stay as you are. I hope you like lobster by the way.’

‘I love it,’ she told him truthfully.