Rebel with a Cause Page 11

  ‘Have you known Lorenzo long?’ Sophy just had to do some digging while Lorenzo and Rob talked about the bar.

  ‘Fifteen years,’ Charlotte replied.

  Sophy nearly spilt her wine. Wow—if there was someone who knew him it was this woman.

  Charlotte was smiling at her as if she’d just read her mind. ‘He used to work as a hand in the picking season. Right from when he was a teen and had nowhere to go in the holidays.’ She looked at Sophy. ‘I tried to spoil him but he wouldn’t have it. I’d leave baking in his cabin and hope he got it. The tin was always empty when he left so I figured he did. Later on Alex used to come and work too. It was more fun for him then, I think.’

  Sophy swallowed. ‘He was lucky he worked with you.’

  ‘He worked on another vineyard when he was still at school too. The McIntosh property.’ Charlotte shook her head. ‘I’ve never known someone to be so driven to succeed. And he has.’

  Yeah, but was he happy with it? Sophy was increasingly worried there was a huge depth of unhappiness in him.

  ‘Now he’s invested in this bar. Who knows what he’ll turn to next? He’s a natural entrepreneur. He’s a genius.’

  Okay, so Charlotte was his number one fan.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Lorenzo turned to them.

  ‘You.’ Charlotte smiled at him. ‘When are you going to be satisfied, Lorenzo?’

  ‘I don’t want to get bored.’

  Sophy smiled as the woman laughed. But her nerves stretched. Bored—as he had been with the woman who’d no longer turned him on? He was busy—always busy—and frequently moved to newer, even more challenging projects. He did that with women too, didn’t he? She had to try to remember that.

  ‘Did you know Jayne McIntosh is trying to sell,’ Rob said. ‘I bet her father regrets not backing you now.’

  ‘Would you be interested in Jayne’s property, Lorenzo?’ Charlotte asked quietly.

  Was it Sophy or had he gone a bit stiff? Who was the Jayne? Was this the McIntosh he’d worked for? He reached for his wine and took a small sip. ‘No. I don’t think so. We have enough for the label and I’m diversifying elsewhere.’

  ‘He was stupid not to come in at the time.’ That was Rob again.

  ‘He was doing what he thought best.’ Lorenzo shrugged.

  ‘He made a mistake,’ Charlotte muttered.

  ‘No.’ Lorenzo’s face went blank. ‘He did me a favour. He made me want to fight even harder.’

  ‘You were already fighting hard enough,’ said Charlotte.

  Lorenzo just laughed and put his hand on the older woman’s arm.

  The rental car was roomy and sleek and, even though it was only a ten-minute drive, she was asleep by the time he parked the car. He switched the engine off and just looked at her in the dim light from the moon and stars. Her hair was amazing. He’d been with her every moment—she hadn’t nipped into a salon to have it styled in the two minutes he’d had his back turned. She hadn’t even used a hair dryer. But it was in that old Hollywood movie star style again—a straight bob at the top ending in curls at her shoulders. She’d run a comb quickly through it, made sure the part was straight and put a clip in. That was it. Utterly effortless perfection.

  That was her all over. But she didn’t seem to know it. Always she strived to be more—to be and do everything for everyone. She should just chill out and believe in herself more. Because she was gorgeous—inside and out.

  He went round to her side of the car, opened her door and roused her gently.

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ Her eyes were slumberous, deep blue.

  He held her hand tightly and guided her into the lodge. She blinked as he put the lights on.

  ‘You have been working hard,’ he said looking at the table. It was covered. But it was the one lying on the small mirror that caught his attention. The blue was the exact colour of her eyes.

  ‘Put it on for me,’ he said, his voice woefully husky.

  ‘It’s only dress jewellery.’ She played it down as she put it on. ‘It’s hardly diamonds or pearls.’

  ‘It doesn’t need to be. It’s beautiful. You’re really talented.’ He’d known that. It was some of what had driven him to offer her the room, to bring her down here.

  But it wasn’t the only reason. There was the totally selfish reason as well—to have her for the weekend, all to himself. With no one else making demands on her, no interruptions, no brother or sister or mother calling all the time, scheduling errands for her to run. No, she was here for when he wanted. And he wanted her all the time.

  He took her on the floor then and there. With her naked other than the beautiful necklace—the blue burning into him as he moved closer, closer still. He couldn’t resist touching, couldn’t stop touching.

  He went back to the vine yards early the next day but finished up hours before he ought to. It didn’t matter, much of what he needed could be done by phone. It was more just to see the team face to face. But his mind was elsewhere—and his body ached to catch up with it.

  Not good. He rebelled against the unfettered need rising inside. Where was his restraint? His self-control was slipping. It was all wrong—he’d worked so long to gain mastery over his emotions. So why wasn’t the passion waning? Why was it getting worse?

  ‘Come for a run.’

  Sophy looked up as Lorenzo stalked in. The electricity in the room surged—she wouldn’t have been surprised if all the light bulbs had suddenly blown. ‘Is exercise your answer to everything?’

  ‘It is if I’m stuck on a problem or angry or something—it works for me.’

  And was he stuck on a problem now, or feeling something stronger? ‘You get angry a bit, Lorenzo?’

  ‘I used to.’

  Maybe he’d had a bit to be angry about. Casually she put down the pliers. ‘Tell me about it.’

  He looked at her, his eyes like burnt black holes. ‘What is there to tell, Sophy? I was my father’s punch bag. Eventually I got taken away but went from foster home to foster home. I didn’t adjust well.’

  She stared, shocked at the sudden revelation, at the painful viciousness underlying the plain statement of facts. Not many people would ‘adjust’ to that.

  He looked uncomfortable, twisting away from her. ‘But I’m not like him. I’ve never hit a woman, Sophy. And I’ve never hit anyone who wasn’t hitting me first.’

  He didn’t need to tell her that. ‘And you don’t get angry any more?’

  He relaxed a fraction. ‘I prefer to get passionate.’

  Yeah, he channelled his aggression else where.

  ‘Passionate about exercise,’ she teased softly, wanting to lighten his mood. She knew his bio in the company literature was tellingly sparse. Now she saw his work with the Whistle Fund revealed far more. Art camps, for one thing. Sports days. All the work geared to underprivileged, at risk kids. He identified with them. He’d been one. ‘Did you get into trouble?’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘What things did you do?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘How bad?’

  ‘A few stupid things.’ He was fudging it. ‘The school was good.’

  ‘What kind of stupid things?’ Sophy leaned towards him. ‘Graffiti?’

  His grin flashed. ‘You figured it out?’

  ‘You have that place totally secure—there are security cameras, you live on site. And that massive piece appears over night? No way would you have let that happen.’

  He shrugged. ‘You got me.’

  ‘You’re quite good.’ He was better than good. ‘Spray cans?’

  He nodded. ‘But I wipe my own slate clean now. And I only decorate my own property.’

  ‘What else?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nope. If we’re doing the twenty questions, then it’s your turn to answer.’

  She giggled, thrilled inside that he’d opened up just that touch. ‘Okay, what do you want to know?’

  ‘Past boy friends.’

  �
�No. Really?’ That was the most pressing thing he wanted to know about her?

  ‘Uh-huh.’ His head bobbed, eyes glinting.

  ‘Not a lot to tell. Dated a couple of boys at high school. Only one serious when I was at university.’

  ‘How serious?’

  ‘We got engaged.’

  His eyes widened. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I changed my mind.’

  ‘You don’t strike me as the kind of person to break a promise easily.’

  ‘It wasn’t easy. I left the country.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘France for most of the time.’

  ‘Why did you come back?

  ‘I missed my family.’ She shrugged. ‘Stupid huh?’

  ‘No. Not stupid.’ He went to his pack and pulled out his training gear. ‘What did you do at university?’

  She’d started law, of course. Had done okay, but didn’t have the family brilliance. ‘I didn’t graduate.’

  ‘Snap. I left to build the business. Why did you quit?’

  She swallowed. ‘That boy friend. Bad news.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  Cheated, of course. He’d been a law student a few years ahead of her. But he’d only wanted to be with her because of her family’s prestige. She didn’t want to go there. ‘It’s more than past your turn for a question. Past girl friends?’

  He bent and tied his trainer laces. ‘No relationships Sophy, remember?’

  ‘What about Jayne McIntosh?’

  His fingers stilled. ‘What did Charlotte tell you?’

  Barely anything—it was a guess. So was her next question. ‘It wasn’t that she didn’t turn you on any more, was it?’

  He stood. ‘I never liked this game.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing that matters,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m more interested in what’s happening now. Not the past, not the future, but now.’

  ‘And what is happening now?’ She drew in her lip, wondering if he’d go there—dissect their affair at all.

  He paused too. Finally turned—away from her. ‘We’re going for that run.’

  They got her some running shoes and shorts from a shop in the town and then he led the way—up the hill, round and down through the forest, finally returning to town and the thermal pools.

  Back at the chalet she dressed in his jeans and he cracked the whip.

  ‘You get back to work.’

  It was all right for him—he was sprawled on the sofa reading the paper. But she was on target so found going back to work wasn’t so hard at all.

  A couple of hours later he went out, brought back some Thai takeaway for dinner. After they’d eaten Sophy felt as playful as a kitten—the happiness made her feel sparkly from the inside out. She’d had a wonderful afternoon, was pleased with her progress for the show, and had loved his quiet company. She stood up from the sofa, stretched her arms out and twirled round the room.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Expressing myself.’ She lifted her tee shirt and his smile widened. Oh, it was so easy to have fun with him. ‘Come into the bedroom and watch me express myself some more,’ she invited.

  She danced the way through, peeling the tee shirt from her body. He followed, and she pushed him onto the bed and knelt over him, enjoying the dominant position. Well, she was wearing his trousers, so she’d be in charge. She knew he liked it slow, and she could do slow for him. She toyed with the edges of her bikini top. He reached out and teased one triangle down a little lower so her nipple was almost exposed.

  She slapped his hand away from her. ‘No. My job.’

  His mouth made an ‘oh’ and his grin went wider. And thirty seconds later his fingers were back teasing—ruining her concentration.

  ‘Stop it.’ She batted his hand away again.

  ‘Make me.’

  She paused, an idea bolting in. ‘Okay.’

  She got off the bed and went out to the table covered in all her supplies. The ribbon was scarlet, a thin smooth satin. She picked up some scissors too.

  He saw them as soon as she went back into the bedroom. Guessed her intention immediately. ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘Hands up.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why, Lorenzo—’ she knelt on the bed ‘—you wouldn’t be afraid, would you?’

  He gave her a piercing look and held out his hands with a pained sigh. ‘There was me thinking you were straight-laced.’

  ‘Maybe I’ve discovered a ribbon of recklessness,’ she joked. It was his fault. His influence. His touch. He made her feel free. He made her feel as if she could do anything, try anything, and he’d still accept her.

  She bound his wrists together. Wrapped the ribbon around the head board and tied that too, so his arms were caught above his head. She looked down at his face. He had a smirk. As soon as she finished, he flexed, the ribbon went taut.

  His smirk vanished. He stiffened and pulled harder.

  ‘I don’t think you can break it.’ She leaned closer to him, letting her breasts touch as she taunted. ‘We girl scouts know how to tie knots.’

  He pulled again. She saw it dawn in his eyes—that he really couldn’t get free. ‘Sophy. Untie them.’

  ‘No.’ She straddled him.

  ‘Sophy. Joke’s over.’ He looked very serious, his eyes black.

  ‘It’s no joke. And it’s not over.’ She tickled her fingers up the under side of his arms—his biceps bulging as he tried to rip free of the ribbon again. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t hurt you.’

  The tenor had changed completely—he really wasn’t comfortable with this, was he? She studied him. Raw, vulnerable, yet fiercely proud. Something pulled deep in her heart. This powerful, independent man was at her mercy—and he didn’t like it.

  And what had begun as an almost kinky, definitely playful tease, turned devastatingly intense. She spread her fingers wide, ran her palm slowly up the centre of his chest, feeling the warm skin, up to where she could feel the thudding of his heart. Had he ever lain back and just let someone love him?

  No. He never had. And he didn’t want to let her now.

  But she wanted to love him—so much. And just this once, she would.

  She moved off him, knelt at his side and started—slowly—even more slowly than when he’d tormented her that first time. She touched him, forgot time as she felt him, entranced in her exploration in seeing how she could make him respond. Making love to every inch of his skin and trying to go deeper—right into his bones, into his heart. He said nothing. Nor did she. But his breathing changed. She watched the straining in his body—knew what he wanted. She was breathless too—filled with yearning. She kissed him all over, her fingers either trailing or kneading every part of him—but the most obvious. She was saving the best bits ’til last. It was too wonderful to rush it.

  But eventually she moved closer—her hands working together in sweeping circles—ever decreasing—narrowing in on her target. She heard his breath catch.

  ‘Sophy.’

  She smiled and took him in her mouth. His harsh groan was the sweetest melody to her ears. He moved beneath her—arching, seeking.

  ‘I want to touch you,’ he ground out, his hips rising—chasing her caresses.

  ‘You already are.’ It was her turn to be fiercely proud—of the way she could make his powerful body buck, of the way she could make him cry out for her. The pleasure she could give him. She wanted to make him feel joy—as being with him filled her with joy. And the feelings surged through her, she lifted up looked down into his eyes. The beautiful eyes that she loved.

  She kissed him like crazy—pouring it all into him. He met her, his kiss equally fervent. Then his body went rigid beneath her as he strained to be free of the bonds, but the knots held.

  ‘I have to have you.’ He sounded so raw. ‘Please.’

  Finally she couldn’t take it any more herself—needed to feel him deep within her. She straddled him. Held his
pulsing erection in her hand and sank onto him in one swift movement. They both cried out. He arched up, trying to lead the rhythm, but she pushed her hands down on his shoulders, using them as anchors so she could ride him hard—her way. She threw her head back as the bliss ravaged through her.

  ‘Sophy, Sophy, Sophy.’

  She looked back down into his eyes as she heard his agonised call to her. Saw him stripped bare. The vulnerability unconcealed—the bottomless depth of need in him revealed. Her fingers tightened on him as she saw the anguish there. She leaned forward to kiss him again—a kiss offering all she had. And felt the shudders racking him as he accepted it.

  A long time later she still lay on him, running her hand gently over his chest as she felt his heart beat slow. She said nothing, didn’t expect him to either—and he didn’t. Eventually she moved, lifting to look at him. His eyes were closed, his brow smooth. She pulled the coverings up. He’d gone to sleep. She reached down to the floor and got the scissors. She caressed his jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. And then she snipped the ribbon.

  He moved faster than she’d ever have thought possible. Grasping both her hands in his, he flipped her onto her back, his eyes open and blazing as he crushed her half beneath his body. The scissors clattered to the floor. Breathless, she twisted her head to the side—could see the red marks on his wrists from where he’d fought against the knots. She bit her lip, braced as she looked back into his face—afraid of the anger she would find there.

  But the flames weren’t frightening. Instead the faintest smile appeared as he pushed down to emphasise each word. ‘No one. But. You.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  LORENZO could hear Sophy playing with the necklace—picking it up, rolling the beads between her fingers, letting it drop. And then picking it up again. He kept his gaze on the dark grey bitumen that was fast sliding under the car. The airport was a rush of bodies and noise and interminable waiting—even though they arrived only five minutes before the check-in for their flight closed. Too soon they landed in Auckland. Too soon he was driving her home.