The Forbidden Touch of Sanguardo. Julia James

was bewilderment in her voice.

      ‘I’ve been meeting one of my UK CEOs for dinner,’ Rafael replied. ‘But I have to say...’ His tone of voice changed again, and his gaze rested on her. ‘I now understand the meaning of that English proverb that it is an ill wind that blows no one any good.’

      He looked at her, but Celeste was blank. Rafael enlightened her.

      ‘Even though I would not wish Karl Reiner on anyone, at least he has given me the opportunity not only to be of some small service to you—he has also provided exactly the opportunity I have been wanting to take since the weekend.’ He paused deliberately, still looking at her. ‘To see you again,’ he said.

      A troubled expression lit her face.

      He saw it and said, his voice low, ‘Would that be so very unwelcome to you?’

      She bit her lip. She wanted to find some way—a polite, considerate way, especially after his rescuing her from Karl—of telling him that what he wanted was impossible...just impossible!

      Rafael saw her silence, needed to know if there was one reason that would be an immovable obstacle for him.

      ‘Is there someone else in your life right now?’

      She swallowed, her expression still troubled. ‘No, but—’ She halted, not knowing what to say. How to say it.

      Her hesitation was visible. A hideous thought speared Rafael’s head. His expression darkened. ‘Karl Reiner,’ he began, his voice harsh, ‘is he—?’

      ‘No! Dear God, no!’

      Her rebuff was so instant, so vehement, that it could only be true. Relief flooded through Rafael. If for a moment he’d thought that that despicable piece of ordure had any kind of anything with her—

      ‘Gracias a Dios!’ he said feelingly.

      ‘How could you think—?’ She broke off, shuddering.

      Of course she had nothing to do with Karl Reiner in that way! Someone like her would never, never think of such a liaison! Hadn’t she reacted strongly enough back there in the lobby to convince him of that? Her shock and disgust had been palpable.

      He reached for his brandy, and as he took a mouthful an image formed in his mind. Madeline—Madeline being on the receiving end of what Karl Reiner had thrown at Celeste.

      She’d have laughed. Laughed in his face, told him, ‘In your dreams!’ and walked off. Then she’d have regaled Rafael with it in bed. She’d have been totally unfazed by it, totally unaffected—she would have thought Reiner merely physically repellent, not repulsively offensive!

      But Madeline was cut from completely different material from the woman at his side now. The woman who was cupping one slender hand around a teacup from which a delicate oriental fragrance was coiling upwards, stirring it with a silver teaspoon, focussed only on her task. He watched her for a moment, all thought of Madeline deleted as Celeste stirred her tea, inhaling the scent, and seemed visibly to calm herself.

      ‘Better?’ he asked quietly.

      She nodded, lifting the cup to her lips to take a tiny sip of the hot liquid.

      He let her be, contenting himself with looking at her. Her beauty, seen again after a space of days, was etching itself on his retinas. Tonight she was wearing a knee-length cocktail dress in eau de Nil, high cut at the neckline, with short cap sleeves. A jade necklace and earrings were her jewellery. Her hair was dressed differently, in a more complex style with braids and loops, but still worn up. An impulse went through him—a longing to see that incredible pale hair loosed from its confines, flowing like a silvery river over her naked alabaster shoulders...

      He pulled his mind back from such impulses, focussing now on her features. Her perfect beauty was just the same as it had been when he’d seen her walking down the stairs at that charity event. A beauty that moved him so strangely—so strongly.

      And so, too, did the other quality that had made him watch her then, as it did now.

      That sense of aloneness—apartness. As if she moved in the world but was not fully part of it. As if it could not touch her.

      What had she said about the stars? That they were very far away...

      As she is.

      His expression changed. But I will get close to her. With me she will not be alone, apart. I will draw her to me! Woo her and win her!

      And he must make the most of this opportunity to begin his journey to that destination. She was here, beside him, and that, surely, was a start.

      ‘Tell me,’ he said, his voice holding in it nothing but quiet concern, ‘how is it that you were with Karl Reiner tonight if he is so repugnant to you? I know that you are the face of Blonde Visage, but—’

      She lifted her face sharply. ‘How do you know that?’

      He gave a half laugh. ‘I could say that your face is your giveaway,’ he said lightly, ‘but I have to confess that, since fashion magazines are not my usual reading matter, I found it out from your agency.’

      Her face worked. ‘Why were you asking?’ she demanded. But there was no need to ask. She knew. Rafael Sanguardo had shown his interest in her—she had been naive to think that just because she had walked away from him the other evening it would not be possible for a man of his means to find out a great deal about her!

      His expression was deliberately transparent. ‘I make no secret of the fact that I want to get to know you better, Celeste.’

      It was strange to hear her name on his lips—a name she hadn’t told him. She would have preferred him never to know, so that she could slip back into the shadows of life where she dwelt. But it was too late for that. All she could do now was hold him at bay, make it clear to him that whatever he was hoping for could not be.

      ‘So why did you have to be in Reiner’s unpalatable company?’ Rafael pursued.

      She made herself give a slight shrug. ‘I’m still under contract, so it’s unavoidable. Tonight he was a guest of one of the fashion magazines he places a great deal of advertising with—that was his excuse for me having to be here.’

      ‘Excuse?’

      She gave another shrug, not meeting his eyes, focussing only on the cup in front of her. ‘You heard what he wants. He made it plain enough.’ A sudden thought struck her, and without realising it she lifted her face to look at him.

      ‘What you did—back there—will he make trouble for you?’ There was concern in her voice. ‘He could do you for assault—’

      ‘He can try,’ said Rafael.

      And there was something about the way he said it that made Celeste realise that Karl—or anyone—would be very, very foolish to attempt to make trouble for Rafael Sanguardo. There was a toughness about him that was unmistakable.

      But there was chivalry, too, she acknowledged. Even if his intervention had proved opportune for him, allowing him to do what he was doing now. Getting to know her—

      But it’s no use—no use at all. Nothing can come of it—nothing!

      That was all she had to remember. And she should act on it right now. She should get to her feet, thank him once again and then go home—home to her little flat in Notting Hill: the fruit of her years of modelling, her quiet haven, where she could be apart from the hectic round of her career. Apart and alone.

      The way she had to be.

      Because nothing else was possible...would ever be possible...

      She was condemned to the solitary life she led.

      But Rafael Sanguardo was speaking again, interrupting her troubled thoughts. ‘What about for you?’ he was asking, that note of concern still evident in his deep, accented voice. ‘Will it make things difficult?’

      She