he’d wanted her then and he wanted her now.
God help him!
Even so, he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of lifting one of her pouting breasts to his mouth and suckling briefly on its puckered tip. She tasted so good; so irresistible. How could he let her go?
Desire sparked anew, and he opened his lips wide and allowed her nipple to brush the roof of his mouth. It was all unbearably sensual, this carnal need he had to make her want him as much as he wanted her. His hands followed the sensitive hollow of her spine, arching her against him, letting her feel what she was doing to him.
The unmistakable roar of the tractor arrested him before he could drag his sodden vest over his head and gather her against him. He’d wanted to feel those button-hard nipples against his bare chest, but it was too late.
‘For pity’s sake, let me go!’
Dominic didn’t know whether Cleo’s frantic words sourced a belated resistance on her part or a sudden awareness of the tractor’s approach. But they were a shocking reminder of what he was doing; or what he’d done.
With a feeling of remorse, he stumbled back from her. But when he would have bent to pick up her dress, she beat him to it, wrenching it away from his grasp.
Giving it only the most perfunctory of shakes, she stepped into it, hauling the straps up over her shoulders and recoiling from the damp clamminess of the skirt.
Cleo had heard the engine, but she was wondering who could be driving along the sand at this hour of the morning. Whoever it was, she should be grateful, she thought, avoiding Dominic’s eyes with an urgency that bordered on paranoia.
Dear heaven, what had she been thinking of? How had she allowed such a thing to happen? After everything she’d said. How could she have been so stupid?
The dress was gritty as well as wet, its abrasive folds like sandpaper against her sensitive skin. How on earth was she going to get into the house unnoticed? She could imagine how she would feel if anyone—her mind switched instinctively to Lily—saw her.
‘Cleo, dammit—’
Dominic put out a hand as she snatched up her sandals and started away from him. But she easily evaded his touch.
‘Go home, Dominic,’ she said, her voice as unsteady as her legs. But she couldn’t blame him entirely. ‘This—this never happened.’
‘We both know it did,’ said Dominic harshly as the tractor rolled into view. He swore then. ‘Look, why don’t you let me take you back to my house? We can dry your dress—’
‘Yeah, right.’ Cleo regarded him incredulously. ‘Do you honestly think I’d go anywhere with you?’
Then, her eyes widening at the sight of the heavy vehicle, she backed away from him. Stumbling a little, she turned and hurried away towards the house.
Dominic swore again. Raking frustrated hands through his hair, he watched her disappear through the trellis gate that led into his grandfather’s garden.
He hoped to God that she didn’t encounter his mother. Lily Montoya was already suspicious of the girl and she wouldn’t mince her words. If she discovered Cleo in that state and then learned that Dominic had been on the beach with her, she’d certainly demand an explanation.
One that he didn’t have to give, admitted Dominic grimly. He had the feeling that his whole day was only going to go from bad to freaking worse.
‘WHAT the hell did you think you were doing with my granddaughter?’
It was later that morning.
Dominic didn’t know if Cleo had made it into the house without encountering either Serena or his mother. But, evidently, nothing escaped the eagle eye of his grandfather.
Dominic himself was hardly in the mood for an argument. He’d returned to his own house to shower and change before heading for the Montoya Corporation’s head quarters in San Clemente.
Then, striding into his own suite of offices, he’d informed his staff that he wasn’t to be disturbed.
Not that that counted for anything when Jacob Montoya demanded to see him. He’d heard the old man giving his assistant hell even through the door of the outer office. By the time Jacob appeared, Dominic was on his feet and ready to defend himself. He thought it was typical that the old man should have chosen today to make one of his infrequent forays into town.
Dominic’s PA, Hannah Gerard, a pleasant-faced woman of middle years, hovered anxiously behind the visitor.
‘May I get you some coffee, Mr Montoya?’ she asked, including both men in her enquiry.
However, it was Jacob who waved his stick somewhat irritably and said, ‘Not now, woman. I want to talk to my grandson. We’ll let you know if we want anything. Now, scoot!’
Hannah’s face flushed with embarrassment and Dominic moved swiftly round the desk to take the woman’s arm. ‘That’s OK, Hannah,’ he said gently, urging her towards the door. ‘As Mr Montoya says, we’re good. I’ll let you know if we need anything, right?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Hannah was obviously relieved to return to her own office, and Dominic closed the door and leant back against it for a moment, viewing his visitor with curious eyes.
Jacob wasn’t usually so brusque with his employees. Dominic’s nerves tightened at the scowling expression on his grandfather’s face.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘You tell me.’
Jacob shifted to lower himself into the armchair opposite Dominic’s desk. He hooked his walking stick over the arm and then delivered his bombshell.
‘What the hell did you think you were doing with my granddaughter?’
Dominic sucked in a breath and then blew it out again on a long sigh.
There was no point in denying that he’d been with Cleo. Somehow—God knew how!—Jacob knew. Or thought he did.
He exchanged a look with the old man, wondering if someone had seen them and reported to him. What had they seen? Everything? His lower body heated at the memory. Or was Jacob just fishing because he’d found out Cleo had been soaked to the skin?
Now he pushed himself away from the door and circled his desk. Then, spreading his hands on its granite surface, he said evenly. ‘What did you think I was doing?’
‘Don’t get clever with me, Dom. I know what you were doing. I saw you.’ Jacob’s lips curled triumphantly. ‘You forget, I get up early in the mornings and my balcony overlooks the beach.’
Dominic stifled an inward groan.
He remembered all too clearly what they—what he—had been
