A Dangerous Taste Of Passion - Anne Mather

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any other tourist.

      ‘You think I’m paranoid, sí?’ Rafe taunted her. ‘You do not think that, after all this time, I might not recognise a paparazzo when I see one?’ He shook his head. ‘So, will you have lunch with me? If not, I—and my escort—will leave you alone.’

      Lily’s lips parted as once again she gave the man, who did indeed appear to be watching them, another quick appraisal. It occurred to her that it might be herself that he was watching and her skin prickled as it had done that evening on the beach.

      ‘Who is he?’

      ‘I have no idea.’ Rafe shrugged. ‘He may be working for one of the tabloid newspapers, or perhaps he is DEA, or CIA. I do not care to find out.’

      Lily stared at him. ‘But why would either the DEA or the CIA be interested in us?’

      Rafe pulled a face. ‘Evidently you do not read the newspapers. Dios, my name was splashed across the headlines for weeks.’

      Lily was stunned. She knew the DEA was the United States Drug Enforcement Agency. ‘Are you saying you were involved with drugs?’

      ‘Mierda! No!’ Rafe didn’t mince his words. ‘But I have no intention of defending myself here. What is your decision?’

      Lily hesitated. What she knew she should do was thank him politely for his invitation and walk away.

      Yet she couldn’t deny she was tempted.

      She found herself saying, ‘All right. I will have lunch with you.’

      If only to find out why he’d gone to see her father, she reassured herself staunchly. Not because just looking at him caused a funny feeling in her stomach.

      ‘Bien.’

      Without any further hesitation, Rafe took her arm and steered her along the street.

      However, Lily pulled away as soon as she was able and said tersely, ‘But I’d prefer not to eat in a restaurant. I usually have a sandwich in Palmetto Park.’

      ‘And you are suggesting I should do the same?’ he queried incredulously, and Lily caught her breath.

      In khaki cargo pants and a black tee shirt, he looked lean and dark—and dangerous, she thought, her skin prickling again. Was she really thinking of getting involved with this man?

      ‘That’s up to you,’ she said now, half hoping he would refuse.

      But he didn’t. ‘Very well,’ he agreed with a swift glance over his shoulder. ‘You had better tell me where we find this—picnic—lunch.’

      Lily started to respond and then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man he had spoken of earlier. He was standing, half hidden by the bole of a palm tree, just a dozen yards away.

      ‘We...we’re still being observed,’ she said abruptly, realising she hadn’t quite believed him before. ‘That man—the one you mentioned. He’s over there.’

      Rafe knew a momentary twinge of impatience. It crossed his mind that he shouldn’t involve her in his affairs. She was too young, for one thing. And did he seriously want another female’s feelings on his conscience?

      ‘I did warn you,’ he said now, giving the man a passing glance. ‘So perhaps lunch is off, sí? We should just agree to go our own separate ways.’

      Lily hesitated. ‘Um...not necessarily,’ she heard herself say with some amazement. Why, when she’d been having such doubts about her involvement with him, wasn’t she seizing this chance to get away?

      But then, Oliveira had said he might tell her what was going on with Ray, she defended herself fiercely. Taking a breath, she added, ‘That is, if you’re still willing to join me in the park.’

       CHAPTER FIVE

      THE COFFEE SHOP where Lily usually bought herself a sandwich and a polystyrene mug of cappuccino was on the other side of the street.

      Breaking free of her escort, Lily started to cross the road. Only to halt in alarm when Rafe grabbed her arm again and dragged her back.

      Out of the path of a speeding minibus that had showed no intention of stopping.

      She heard Rafe’s angry words in her ear, his hot breath against the nape of her neck and found she was trembling. She was sure his words were not repeatable, but fortunately she couldn’t understand them.

      She didn’t think he was speaking to her, however, and she turned to him with a breathless word of gratitude.

      ‘Idiota,’ he muttered, after she had stopped shaking. ‘He could have killed you.’

      ‘But he didn’t,’ said Lily, grateful for his vigilance. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. What I did was stupid. I should have looked both ways.’

      ‘Sí,’ he agreed, his face still dark with concern. ‘But that—that maniac was not about to stop.’

      Rafe grimaced and then, realising she needed reassurance, his expression cleared. ‘It would be such a waste to lose you,’ he added with gentle sensuality. ‘Myers would be devastated, I am sure, and the good padre, your father, would never forgive me.’

      The way he was looking at her caused all the oxygen to drain from Lily’s lungs. Although he was no longer touching her, she felt breathless, weak. She kept telling herself it was the result of the near-accident, but she couldn’t look away from his disturbing gaze.

      What was there about those hollow cheekbones and that thin-lipped mouth that caused such a visceral reaction inside her? she asked herself incredulously. Why, when she knew she wouldn’t like to make an enemy of this man, was she allowing herself to get involved with him?

      ‘I think perhaps I should go back to the agency,’ she said now, her voice still a little uneven, but Rafe only arched a mocking brow.

      ‘You disappoint me,’ he said. ‘I was looking forward to spending more time with you.’

      Lily sighed uncertainly. But it would have seemed churlish to abandon him after he’d virtually saved her life, she thought defensively.

      ‘All right,’ she said, looking up and down the street again before adding, ‘The place where I buy my sandwiches is across the road. If you are certain you want to have lunch with me, we should join the queue.’

      The queue?

      Rafe scowled as he saw that there was indeed a queue of people waiting outside the coffee shop across the street. And, in the present circumstances, he had no desire to spend the next fifteen minutes waiting in line to buy a greasy burger and an indifferent cup of coffee.

      ‘Are you sure you would not rather find a small eatery and sit down?’ he asked, aware that, for all her defiant courage, she still looked rather pale.

      ‘Humour me,’ he went on, aware that her eyes had been drawn to the open neckline of his shirt. The brown column of his throat seemed to intrigue her and he was impatiently aware of his own reaction to her. Running a hand over the triangle of dark hair exposed by his shirt, he said roughly, ‘I had quite a shock, too.’

      Lily hesitated. There was no doubt that the idea of standing in a queue for several minutes before then searching for an empty bench in the park was daunting.

      Besides, the man with the camera was still watching them and, as she glanced his way, she saw him raise the camera towards them. ‘All right,’ she said quickly, expelling an uneasy sigh. ‘Not least because I don’t like anyone taking my picture without my permission.’

      * * *

      The eating place Rafe chose was not somewhere Lily had ever been before. Which was a relief. Not that she thought anyone would recognise her with Rafe Oliveira, the man who had left New York apparently under a cloud, and who

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