His Ultimate Prize

‘In what way was it difficult?’ he probed immediately.

‘My mother called me the evening before the race, just before the team dinner where you—’

‘When I dared to ask you out?’ he asked.

Her gaze dropped as she felt a prickle behind her eyelids. ‘Her relationship with my father has always been...tempestuous.’ That was putting it mildly but she couldn’t elaborate any further. ‘When she called, she was very upset... She has...moments like that. She wanted to see him. Nothing I said would calm her down. So I called my father—the father I haven’t spoken to in years.’

Rafael’s brow hitched up a fraction but he didn’t interrupt her.

‘He wouldn’t lift a finger to help. He was too busy, he said. But I could hear the sound of a party in the background. I swallowed my pride and begged him. He refused. When I called my mother to try to explain, her mood...escalated. I was trying to get her some help when you found me and asked me to dinner.’

‘So you attempted to slice the skin off my bones because of bad timing?’ His words were light but the chilling ice in his eyes told her he hadn’t forgiven her. ‘What about the dozen times before then?’

She blew out a breath. ‘I’ve just told you the effect my father has on me and on my mother. Do you honestly think I’d ever want to associate myself personally with a man who reminds me of every despicable trait I witnessed growing up?’

‘Watch it, piqueña,’ he murmured softly. ‘You didn’t think I was despicable when we kissed this morning.’

A wave of heat crept up her face. ‘That was a mistake.’

‘Also, you may have claws, but I have teeth. Sharp ones and I’m heartless enough to use them.’

She didn’t doubt it. For him to have succeeded in securing several championships over the past decade, he had to have a ruthless streak somewhere beneath the indolent playboy demeanour. Certainly, she’d seen his dedication and absolute focus during the racing season.

‘I’m sorry, Rafael. But I didn’t really understand why you wanted to go out with me. There were dozens more willing girls who would’ve jumped at the chance to be with you.’ If she were being honest, she still didn’t understand why he continued to try and goad her into bed. The only thing she could think of was...no, it didn’t make sense. ‘I’m hardly your Mount Everest.’

‘You’re not. Been there, done that.’

Her eyes fell to the jagged scar on his forearm. It might have been ugly at one time but now it just blended into the frustratingly captivating masterpiece that was Rafael de Cervantes. ‘You’ve been to a lot of places, done a lot of things.’

‘You’ve been listening to gossip.’

‘Before I came to work for you last year, the agency sent me a dossier on you. Is it true that scar on your arm was from a bull goring you?’ She pounced on the change of subject all the more because here was her chance to learn more about Rafael.

‘Sí, and I thanked the bull for the unique, exhilarating experience.’

She suppressed a shudder. ‘What is it exactly that you crave? The thrill of the chase? The rush of adrenaline?’

‘It’s conquering the fear of the unknown.’

His words were so stark, so raw, her breath caught in her lungs.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t like mysteries, querida. Take you, for instance. From the moment we met, you held me at arm’s length. No woman’s ever done that, not effectively anyway, and definitely not for as long as you have, and this isn’t arrogance talking. It’s just never happened. You were an enigma to me. I wanted to smash aside all your barriers. Instead you built them up higher. You intrigued me to the point I couldn’t see anything beyond having you.’

She had never been able to explain the phenomenon of ice and heat that filled her whenever she was in Rafael’s presence. She couldn’t explain it now the sensation had increased a thousandfold. ‘I don’t know that I want to be described that way. You make me sound like I’d become your worst nightmare.’

‘You had. I wanted to confront it. Turn it into a dream I liked.’

‘God, Rafael. Do you hear how twisted that sounds?’

His laugh was nowhere near a normal sound. ‘I’m sorry I don’t fit your ideal of the right guy.’

‘I’m not looking for a right guy. I’m not looking for a guy, period. I just want to do my job.’

‘It’s not just that though, is it?’ He beckoned the waiter and ordered an espresso for himself and a white coffee for her. ‘You’re here because you want to do penance.’