The Purest of Diamonds?. Susan Stephens

easy to fool herself into thinking he was interested in her, when this was just his way. Raffa Leon was a charming and accomplished seducer, both in business and with women, and she had to get it into her head that this was just an innocent encounter and a refreshing drink. She had never been the type of girl men took up to their room. She was the kid sister they brought into the very public hotel lounge to share an orange juice with before the party.

      And she should be pleased about that.

      She was pleased. But she would be lying if she tried to pretend it wouldn’t be thrilling to have Raffa look at her with something other than humour in his eyes.

      When she leaned forward to pick up her glass, her senses filled with the faint scent of his cologne. It was one of those intoxicating scents, hard to identify, but undoubtedly exclusive. She sat back again, wondering. What now? Raffa seemed content to let the silence hang between them, so maybe it was up to her to break the silence. Live boldly, for once! Pointing through one of the tall arched windows, she drew his attention to the park, picked out in lights at this time of night. ‘My mother used to take me over there to the park when I was a little girl so I could terrorise people on my three-wheeler.’

      ‘I never saw you as a hoodlum, Leila.’

      So how did he see her? Raffa laughed as he set down his drink. A soft drink too, she noted.

      Raffa felt his heart stir as he thought about a little girl taking every day with her mother for granted, and a young mother enjoying special time with her youngest child. Those days must have felt as if they would go on for ever. Neither of them could have anticipated Leila’s father’s descent into drunken violence, or the tragic plane crash and loss of life.

      ‘What are you thinking about now?’ he prompted, though he guessed Leila had inadvertently uncovered memories she didn’t normally share with strangers, and was probably regretting being so open with him. Insanely, he wanted to hug her and tell her it would be all right, but they didn’t know each other well enough for that. They had a party to go to, where Leila would have to be bright and cheerful, or her sisters would want to know why. He didn’t want to leave her shakier than when she’d fallen into his arms outside the hotel. What had begun as basic attraction and curiosity had gained an edge of care. Not that he felt responsible for Leila, and she wouldn’t want that. She’d been doing pretty well on her own up to now.

      ‘More juice?’

      ‘Please. Sorry, Raffa, I was miles away.’

      Thinking about her mother’s letter, Leila realised as Raffa turned away to order more drinks. She’d been doing a lot of that recently, and she’d had plenty of time to memorise every word over the years.

      My darling Leila,

      I love you more than life itself, and want you to promise me that you will live your life to the full. You’re only a little girl now, but one day you’ll be a woman with choices to make and I want you to make the right choices.

      Don’t be afraid of life, Leila, as I have been. Be bold in all you do—

      It still haunted her to think her mother must have known she was in danger—maybe even that Leila’s father would go too far and kill them both. Leila had been too young to understand what had happened at the time of the crash, and it was only later when she was older that her sisters had explained that their father was most likely drunk at the controls of the plane. She’d done some investigating of her own at the local newspaper office and had got the picture of a violent alcoholic and a woman who had been the helpless victim of his rages.

      ‘Ice in your juice?’ Raffa broke into her thoughts.

      ‘No. It’s delicious as it is, thank you.’

      ‘Spanish oranges,’ he said, his dark face brightening with a smile. ‘The best.’

      ‘You’re partial.’

      ‘Yes, I am,’ he agreed, holding her gaze a beat too long.

      It was long enough for her heart to pound out of control. Raffa was so worldly, and it was almost funny, the two of them being here together, when Skavanga was just one stop on Raffa’s round-the-world tour of his international business interests, and she had never been outside the town except for university, and even then she’d only gone a few miles down the road to the local college. As soon as she had qualified, she’d scuttled back to the place she knew best, the place she felt safest, where she could hide away in the archive department of a mining museum where it was quiet, and where there was no chance of meeting a wife beater, or an alcoholic. Or anyone for that matter.

      ‘So you’ve stayed in Skavanga all your life, Leila? Leila?’ Raffa prompted, his voice shaking her round.

      She’d been trapped in the past, sitting on the stairs, listening to her parents arguing and hearing the inevitable thump when her mother hit the floor. And now, judging by the concerned look on Raffa’s face, he was joining her on this trip down memory lane too.

      ‘Yes, I’ve been here all my life,’ she confirmed brightly to make up for her lapse in concentration.

      She was actually quite good at being jolly. She’d had plenty of practice over the years. Having been totally eclipsed by her beautiful sisters, she’d had the choice of being the mouse in the background, or the jolly sister. She’d perfected both. ‘I’ve always been close to my brother and sisters.’ At least, she had been, until her brother, Tyr, had gone missing.

      ‘It’s great to have siblings,’ Raffa agreed, ‘even if you don’t always get along.’

      ‘We get along. I just miss my brother, and I wish I knew where he was.’ Her stare met Raffa’s, but, if he knew where Tyr was, he wasn’t telling. ‘I know it must look to you as if my sisters run roughshod over me, but believe me, Raffa, I can hold my own.’

      ‘I never doubted it,’ he agreed, to her surprise.

      But as Raffa’s smile faded, and a shadow crossed his face, she wondered about his family. She also realised they had relaxed into the last thing she had imagined sharing with Raffa Leon, which was a meaningful conversation.

      ‘What about you?’ she prompted gently. ‘What about your family, Raffa?’

      The look he shot her made her regret asking. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to probe.’

      ‘That’s all right,’ he said, sitting back. He shrugged. ‘Apart from the three brothers and two sisters I do know about, I’m told I have countless half brothers and sisters across the globe, thanks to the untiring efforts of my father.’

      ‘And your mother—?’ That was one question she definitely shouldn’t have asked, Leila realised, breaking off when she saw the expression on Raffa’s face. ‘I’m sorry. I—’

      ‘Don’t be,’ he interrupted. ‘I was lucky enough to spend most of my youth with my grandmother. As soon as my elder brothers and sisters went off to college, my father made it quite clear that he was done with children.’

      ‘So there was no place at home for you?’

      He didn’t answer that. He didn’t need to. What Raffa had told her explained so much about him. He was the lone wolf, dangerous, hidden and unknowable.

      ‘I’d like to meet your grandmother,’ she said, trying to bring him back to the present. ‘She must be an amazing woman.’

      ‘To take me on?’ Raffa queried, relaxing into a laugh. ‘She is. And maybe you will meet her one day, Leila.’

      He was just being polite, but it was a relief to see him smiling again.

      ‘And you grew up with your sisters and brother,’ he prompted.

      ‘Who always teased me unmercifully,’ she confirmed.

      ‘And you don’t mind that?’

      ‘I tease them back. Families,’ she added with a smile and a shrug.

      Raffa