Moonflower Page 5

  Why else would he have been so quick to get all hot and steamy with her last night when she so obviously wasn't his type? She knew she annoyed him. But that was just too bad. She wasn't going to change who she was for anyone. And as far as becoming just another one of his conquests was concerned, she had more pride than that.

  No, her behaviour of the night before really wasn't on. Whichever way she looked at it, it had been totally unacceptable. She'd just have to be on her guard around him. Utterly professional at all times, focussed, a woman who got things done.

  She’d almost convinced herself, until she stepped into the hotel lobby and her heart started beating like an African drum. It reached fever pitch as she spotted Reuben across what seemed like a mile of mosaic floor. Then the traitor organ seemed to explode and melt in her chest cavity as he looked up from the morning paper and fixed those intense eyes on her.

  For a moment neither of them moved. Sophie was stunned by the effect the mere sight of him had on her. Later, she'd wonder what his immobility had been caused by. She braced herself for his scowl, a caustic remark or two.

  'Slept well, I hope?' he asked, his voice soft and deep.

  Sophie took a deep breath. 'Yes. Thanks. And you?'

  'Mmm.'

  The sound vibrated through her body.

  As their plane left the ground at Lanseria just before eight that morning, Reuben let his arm brush against Sophie's. As expected, he felt the contact all the way to his chest. A moment later, he did it again. Just the briefest contact. He couldn't help himself any more than a man with an addictive habit.

  But this was more than a habit. It was fast becoming an obsession. When he’d finally got to sleep last night, his dreams had been filled with tangled copper hair, guileless green eyes; he knew now the sound of her soft moans, the taste of her full, moist mouth. A gangly twenty-four year old. He glanced sideways at her profile. Still couldn't credit it. But he couldn't ignore it, either. The way she’d taken over his body, and now his mind, it seemed.

  It had been many years since he'd wanted anything this badly. Not since he’d entered the world of business in his early twenties with a burning, all-consuming desire to succeed, be the best. Had he simply become jaded over the years, or was there something special about Sophie Kyle?

  He wondered if she had simply come along at a time when he’d welcome a diversion from the mild sense of dissatisfaction he’d begun to feel. A vague sensation of restlessness. He’d achieved so much in such a short time. Perhaps there were too few challenges left these days. Life was laid out, predictable; even success.

  Did Sophie represent something wild and unpredictable? Was that the attraction?

  Reuben had always hated the idea of using another person's vulnerability for personal gain. Some might think it a strange philosophy for a ruthless businessman, but Reuben believed he was successful precisely because he believed in win-win situations. And just as the best battles were fought between enemies of near-equal strength, so it was with affairs. Yes, he wanted Sophie, but he had to be sure she understood the nature of the tryst because that’s all it would be. What an affair to look forward to.

  He felt suddenly energised. Leaning towards her, he breathed in her scent and brought his lips close to her ear. 'I can't get used to how blue the sky is on this continent.’ He let his breath tease the tiny hairs in her ear. He watched her body tense. ‘It really is quite extraordinary.'

  His eyes were on her breasts as she took a deep breath, let it out, relaxed her shoulders. ‘Best sky in the world,' she said brightly, which made Reuben chuckle.

  She turned large green eyes to him and the corners of her mouth twitched before transforming into a smile. A wisp of copper hair fell across her eye. Reuben raised his hand, and, with gentle lingering fingers, tucked it behind her ear.

  Sophie was too unsophisticated to look bashful or coquettish. She just stared at him wide-eyed, innocence written all over her lovely features, and Reuben felt something utterly unexpected—a wave of tenderness that left him feeling confused and shaken.

  Sophie would like to have told Isaac and Sipho how much their high jinks and good humour meant to her. In fact, they were doing a good job of helping her hang onto her sanity.

  Right after she'd arrived at Labour's End, just before eleven, she'd taken her leave of Reuben and got stuck in at the farm. She, Sipho and Isaac had spent most of the day inspecting parameter fencing and carrying out repairs.

  It was close to supper time when Sophie got back to her cottage. She had a shower, donned a pair of denim shorts and a blue t-shirt, and padded in flip-flops to the house to deliver the final game costings she’d placed in a folder tucked beneath her arm. Although determined to be the pin-up for professional on the outside, internally Sophie was a bunch of jangling nerves. She had no idea how to handle Reuben. She was convinced deep down that she did not have what it took to resist him. Of course, she would give it her best shot, but she knew he could easily out-play her. He was older, far more sophisticated, and she suspected he was a master of seduction.

  None of this would have been a problem if she hadn’t been so achingly attracted to him. She not only had to resist the sheer power and magnetism of the man, but her own traitor of a body, too, and the obvious chemistry between them.

  Tonight was her first test: she’d be polite, professional. Drop off the documents; head back to the cottage for supper and a sundowner on the gorgeous wooden deck she planned to make the most of while she was here.

  Reuben was relaxing in a wicker chair on the verandah, sipping something cold and observing her progress across the lawn. Sophie had expected him to be beavering away in his study. She refused to look at him and lengthened her stride across the lawn, concentrating on the beautiful flowerbeds that burst with colour. To distract herself from the dark blue eyes, she challenged herself to come up with the names of the flowers she saw around her—English and Latin.

  Until the timing switches clicked on and the sprinklers kicked into action. The first jet of water came from behind just as Sophie reached the middle of the lawn, and whipped across her back. Taken unawares, she leaped into the air and let out a yelp. Then they were coming at her from all sides. Jets of water lashing her back, front, sides. She did her best to dodge left, right, but by the time she reached the verandah, she was soaked through.

  Reuben had placed his glass on the tiles beside his chair and was grinning with undisguised delight. Sophie felt a blush move from her cheeks, spread along her neck, her chest, all the way to the tips of her toes, if that were possible. She stood dripping, holding the folder at arm’s length to keep it from getting any wetter, until Reuben managed to get a grip on himself.

  Laughter bubbled in her chest and she was helpless to stop it spilling from her lips. But she stopped when she noticed that Reuben's amusement had changed to something else entirely: desire.

  He made no attempt to keep his gaze from caressing her length and she might have folded her arms across her sodden t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination, but it would have done no good. His eyes touched her lips, moved to the twin mounds of her breasts, her dripping thighs. And something changed in Sophie. She realised she had no wish to cover herself. Her body became languid in the warmth of his admiring stare. She felt herself opening up to him, watching fascinated, as his eyes moved over her with lust. Until she began to shiver. Visibly, if Reuben's next comment was anything to go by.

  'You’re cold.'

  'All I was trying to do was give you these.' She handed the wet folder to him.

  He took it from her, opened it. 'The papers inside are dry. But since it was my sprinklers that assaulted you,' the smile had returned to his face, 'I'd like to offer you dinner as an apology.'

  A picture flashed into Sophie's mind of the last time she’d had dinner with him; and how it had ended. 'I, ah… I’ll just go back to the cottage. I need to change anyway, so I'll have something to eat there.'

  'No need,' Reuben said. 'You can borrow
one of my shirts. You won’t be making a fashion statement,' he said, grinning at her in a way that made her knees wobble, ‘but it’ll be a private dinner, and not too much of a challenge for a woman who has the guts to wear a tablecloth to the Crystal Court.’ He shrugged.

  She sighed. 'Tell me, Reuben, when last did someone actually refuse you anything?'

  'Yesterday,' he said, without missing a beat.

  Sophie blushed at the memory of their hot clinch, his fingers exploring her beneath the gold dress.

  ‘Come,’ Reuben said, heading for the door without bothering to wait for an answer.

  Sophie followed him meekly inside, her blood pulsing all the way to her soggy flip-flops. He took her straight to his bedroom. Her gaze flew to the enormous modern beech wood four-poster, its mosquito net floating in the breeze.

  Reuben reappeared from the dressing room with a shirt in his hands. Another breeze wafted through the room, carrying with it the fragrance of rose petals and wet grass, curling around her skin, making the tiny hairs on her body stand on end.

  She stood stock-still, finding it difficult to swallow. She felt her lack of experience keenly. Was she meant to say something? Why was she standing here like a wet lump, waiting for him to make the next move?

  Maybe if she took a few steps into the room, went to look out of a window, it would break the tension. But did she want to move away from the line of electricity that snapped and crackled across the room, back and forth, between them? No. She wanted to feel it, and feel more of it; the sensations creeping from her belly to her breasts, and from the tips of nipples being chafed by her wet t-shirt, to her tingling fingertips. It was like stepping slowly into a hot bath on a cold day and feeling delicious heat creep through her body.

  And there was more. Reuben circled her, coming to a stop at her back. He reached an arm around to hand her his shirt. His arm brushed hers, and his breath caressed the tender spot at the back of her neck. She closed her eyes. He was so close, he must have dipped his head towards her. His lips just millimetres from her flesh. Sophie’s breath quickened. She wanted him now. More than anything she’d ever wanted in her life.

  There would be consequences, but she didn’t want to think about them now.

  She swayed slightly, like a willow caught in the first stirrings of a storm. His lips brushed her neck, his hands sliding along her arms. She let out a ragged breath, teetered back towards him as the storm broke and he pulled her fiercely to him. Sophie revelled in the feel of his hardness pressed into the soft flesh of her buttocks.

  She twisted her head to the side as he brought up a hand to fondle her breast, squeezing the nipple gently through her t-shirt. He was breathing hard when he found her mouth.

  ‘Mr Reuben?’

  The voice was on the other side of the bedroom door, accompanied by a knock.

  ‘Mr Reuben, you in there?’

  It took Reuben a moment to pull away. Sophie stepped quickly away from him, pressing her hand to her chest, as if this feeble gesture could stop her heart from popping right out of her ribcage.

  ‘Yes, Beauty. What is it?’

  ‘Miss Sara say dinner will be served in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he called.

  'Put that on,' he said, indicating the shirt on the floor. He brushed his thumb over her swollen lips and, shaking his head ruefully, strode from the room.

  He was gone, but not the effect he had on her. Sophie picked up the shirt. Looking at the white linen in her hands, she buried her face in it, catching the gentle spiciness of his aftershave. She felt deeply troubled. She was not one to play around. She took every relationship in her life seriously. Was she to become the plaything of a tycoon who knew nothing about her life? A man to whom everything came so easily; who had a reputation for buying up companies, then dabbling with them before selling them off for profit.

  If she fell for him, she would fall hard; she knew that. That was who she was. Sophie took off her wet top and slipped into his shirt, warm against her skin. She did this slowly, the shirt’s fragrance invading her senses, making the tiny hairs prickle on her back and arms. As she did the buttons up with trembling fingers, her swollen nipples felt impossibly sensitive, the softness of the fabric seeming to graze the tender flesh.

  She made her way on trembling legs back to the patio, wet t-shirt in hand.

  'Can I get you something to drink?' Reuben asked, getting up from his chair.

  'A beer would be fine,' Sophie said. It’s what she liked to drink now and then, and she wouldn’t change who she was to impress him. She had made this choice deliberately, guessing it was unlikely he made a habit of dining with women whose choice of drink was a beer. And she’d been right: Reuben looked surprised, but disappeared inside.

  Sophie took a deep breath. When she had begun working as a conservationist, there had been many situations, unpredictable, dangerous even, that she’d found herself in. And she’d been determined not to show her fear or the fact that she was inexperienced, out of her depth. She believed it was this ability to control her emotions that had helped her leapfrog many of her contemporaries who’d panicked in similar situations.

  So she forced herself to relax by the time Reuben reappeared and handed her a glass of beer. They did not speak at first, just sat in companionable silence, looking out over the garden and mountains, and after several minutes, Sophie began to feel at peace. They talked then about the fight to preserve wildlife and ecosystems, and she was surprised by how much he knew about the subject.

  'Excuse me, Mr Reuben.'

  Beauty appeared on the patio. 'Telephone call. It's very urgent from England, Mr Reuben,' she said, smiling and holding the cordless phone out to him.

  'Thank you, Beauty,' he said, rising from his seat and taking the telephone from her.

  'Manning.'

  There was a long pause.

  'No need to panic. Not until the final figures are in.'

  Another long pause as Sophie sipped her beer.

  'Yes, I understand that… Okay, well let's go over everything before we make that decision. Hold on a minute.'

  Reuben put his hand over the telephone and turned to Sophie. 'Sorry about this. Something's come up. I’ll have to take a rain check.'

  'No problem. See you tomorrow.' She watched Reuben disappear into the house. As she got to her feet, she felt enormous relief and disappointment in equal parts.

  Chapter Five

  She slept in Reuben's shirt that night and woke to the feel of linen against her bare skin, the smell of him in her nostrils. She knew he had inhabited her dreams—there was still the impression in her mind’s eye of him moving towards her, no mistaking the intent in the navy blue eyes, the tension in a jaw that might have been chiselled from marble. Her lips tingled at the memory of him against her mouth; the softness and taste of his tongue. Her hands moved over the fabric of his shirt where it covered her breasts. She wondered how her skin felt to him. Remembered him taking her nipple between thumb and forefinger. The pressure he’d applied, sending all the right signals to her brain and each aching inch of her body.

  Sophie stretched languidly and rolled over, turned off the alarm clock.

  The sun was just beginning to rise. It was bound to be a beautiful day, but she was honest enough to know it was the thought of another encounter with Reuben that made the light behind the curtains seem a little more golden this morning, the sound of the birds a bit sweeter. But what if that anticipated meeting never happened? Would it be enough to know he was close by?

  Sophie groaned. ‘You’re losing your head!' And then all the brightness of a moment ago was doused with apprehension. This wasn’t some twenty-something-year-old boy she was falling for, but a captain of industry with a playboy reputation. The type was foreign to her, his world not her world. The life of a conservationist was about as far removed from a London boardroom as it possibly could be. Her work was her passion and she had a long and exciting road ahead of her.

  Sophie
felt a little impatient with herself. It would be nothing short of silly to allow herself to become attached to Reuben Manning. Yes, they’d shared a drink and a moment of tranquillity on a porch in Africa last night, but how many evenings had Reuben spent like that in, say, a year? Not many, Sophie guessed. And that’s exactly what she wanted from a partner. Many things besides sexual attraction, no matter how strong. Someone to share her passion, and someone to a share a porch and a drink with her at the end of each day.

  Sophie sighed as she took off Reuben’s shirt and stepped into the shower. Time to start the day. A dose of reality was way overdue.

  She spent the morning documenting sightings of individual animals and the few depleted herds still on the farm. Isaac and Sipho, although already in possession of a wealth of knowledge, were keen to learn anything new. They were also wonderful company and Sophie was in high spirits when at lunchtime they headed back to the house with grumbling tummies.

  Reuben was nowhere to be seen, but she reined in her disappointment and gave herself a talking-to. She had her work cut out for her on the farm; it was only now becoming apparent just how depleted its wildlife had become after years of neglect.

  With a light lunch under her belt, Sophie said goodbye to Rolf and Sara. Being Saturday, they had the next twenty-four hours off; the first in a long time, and were heading for Cape Town.

  ‘Have a wonderful time,’ Sophie said, hugging Sara.

  ‘You need anything,’ the older woman said, ‘just ask Mrs September.’

  Once the couple had left, Sophie set off again with her rangers.

  It was well after six when she returned to the cottage. She'd just taken a shower, washing off the day’s heat, dust and block-out, when there was a knock at the cottage door. It was Patience.

  'Mr Manning say you must come to the verandah. But he say you not to go in the sprinklers.'