Santa Baby (25 page)

‘So, any thoughts about Italy? I’m due there in two weeks’ time. You know I would love it if you flew out.’

‘Like I said, I’ll have to check my work schedule.’

Raul smiled. ‘I’m sure that your sister isn’t such a slave driver that she never lets you have time off. And you can think of it as work-related, as research … you can check out all the styles in Italy.’

Tiffany laughed. ‘All the styles of the über-über-rich? I don’t think I’m going to be replicating their look on the show. We don’t cater for women who have several
grand
to blow on a handbag, on a regular basis.’

‘OK, well, couldn’t you just come for my sake?’ He reached out, took her hand and kissed it, giving her the smouldering look. ‘It would mean so much to me.’

Even though the touch of his lips on her skin set off a delicious tingle of anticipation, Tiffany persisted in playing it cool. ‘Don’t you need to concentrate before a race and not have any distractions?’

‘Pah! I always drive better when I’m happy.’ He gave a cheeky grin.

More champagne flowed, they ate some of the picnic, but all the while Tiffany was aware of him sitting opposite her, and wondering what was going to happen next. It came quicker than she had anticipated when Raul pushed his plate to the side and leaned forward on his elbows, ‘So, would you like to try out my hot tub? I’ve just had it installed and need an expert opinion.’

Tiffany burst out laughing. ‘That is the worst chat-up line I have ever heard! And you’ve already come out with some corkers.’

‘But it’s true! I’ll show you the receipt. It’s brand new. What do you say? Champagne, hot tub, a beautiful girl. It’s an irresistible combination.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t you think it’s kind of tacky?’

‘You haven’t seen my hot tub yet.’ He stood up, and reached for her hand. ‘Come see and then you can judge.’

Tiffany allowed him to lead her to a secluded part of the garden. The hot tub was surrounded by weeping willows, and under a wooden gazebo with vines trailing over it. The area was discreetly lit and had an intimate, but definitely not tacky, feel.

Her gaze fell on another bottle of champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket. Raul had everything all planned out. A small part of her wanted to resist but she was won
over
by the fun, the glamour, the brazen seduction of it. Why not enjoy the moment?

Raul looked at her. ‘So?’

‘I don’t have a swimming costume.’

‘I promise I won’t look.’

‘Turn around then. And no peeping!’ Tiffany ordered. Only when she was sure his back was turned did she step out of her maxi-dress. She toyed with the idea of keeping on her underwear then thought, What the hell? and unclipped her bra and slipped off her briefs. Then she stepped into the pleasantly warm hot tub and sat on the wooden bench. But this wouldn’t do at all! The still water offered a perfect view of her naked body.

‘How do I switch this thing on?’

‘There’s a button by the side of the tub.’

She pressed it and the water began bubbling away furiously, conveniently preserving her modesty.

‘OK, I’m ready.’

Raul turned round and smiled at her. ‘Close your eyes, Tiffany, I’m coming in.’

Tiffany did as she was told, then couldn’t resist peeking at the very moment that Raul walked over to the hot tub completely naked. And what a fine figure of a man he was, with his muscular chest, well-defined abs and a rather lovely-looking—

‘Tiffany! You cheated and I didn’t!’ Raul exclaimed, catching her out but making no attempt to cover himself up.

‘I’m no lady, didn’t you know?’ she said, grinning, as she watched him pour out two glasses of champagne before getting into the tub. Check that out! Hot man in a hot tub … and didn’t he just know it!

Raul handed her a glass of champagne, then sat down next to her. ‘Now we are here, what’s your verdict?’

Tiffany sipped her drink. ‘I admit that it’s very nice. All of it.’ She looked at him under her lashes and licked her lips provocatively. God, the hot tub was making her behave like some kind of porn star!

‘I’m glad you like it, I want only to please you.’

And then it was as if they both decided that they would not play games any longer. They put their glasses down and, moving closer together, found each other’s lips, kissing hungrily while their hands carried out their own explorations under the bubbles. Raul’s body felt every bit as good as it looked. He returned the favour, with smooth practised caresses that were tantalisingly arousing. It had been a while since her last encounter with Billy, and Sean … no, she wasn’t going to go there. She surely deserved the mind-blowing orgasm that was undoubtedly coming her way.

Raul pulled her on to his lap but no way was she going any further without a condom, however turned on she was. ‘Beautiful Tiffany,’ he murmured as he kissed her breasts. Tiffany shut her eyes as she revelled in the sheer pleasure of feeling this handsome man beneath her … but something made her open them again and she yelped in surprise when she saw Luis, the driver, standing by the hot tub. Immediately she slid off Raul’s lap and wrapped her arms protectively over her body.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ Raul demanded, turning round.

Luis spoke. ‘I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, sir, but there is an urgent phone call for you.’

‘Can’t it wait?’ Raul exclaimed.

‘I’m afraid not, sir, it’s your mother.’ He coughed. ‘Your sister is in a bit of trouble again.’

Raul muttered what had to be a Portuguese swear word, then gestured to Luis to bring over a robe.

‘I’m sorry, Tiffany, I have to take this call, but I
shouldn’t
be long.’ He blew her a kiss as he put on the robe, but he was as deflated as Tiffany felt, by the look of it.

She stayed in the hot tub for the next few minutes, finishing her champagne, but the moment for getting naughty in the tub seemed to have passed and she felt silly and self-conscious waiting for Raul to return. She hauled herself out of the tub and quickly dried off, dressed and walked back into the house. She paused to look at some photographs on the wall in the hallway: pictures of Raul as a boy with his sisters, at the race track as a young man, hanging out on a yacht with a group of lads – he really did come from a different world to her. But one in particular held her gaze: a silver-framed photograph of Raul with his arm round a beautiful dark-haired woman with cheekbones to die for and sensuous lips like Angelina Jolie’s. Tiffany recognised her as being one of the supermodels Raul had gone out with. Now why was her photograph still up on his wall?

Luis came out of the kitchen and saw what she was looking at.

‘This is Holly Beech, isn’t it? Raul’s ex-girlfriend.’ Except maybe she wasn’t that ex.

Luis looked awkward. ‘I am sorry, I was meant to remove it. Mr Garcia did ask me to.’

Tiffany didn’t want to get him into trouble.

‘It’s no problem, I won’t say anything.’ But she couldn’t help wondering whether Raul still had feelings for the beautiful Holly.

‘And I’m afraid Mr Garcia is still on the phone and fears that he will be otherwise engaged for the rest of the night. He has asked me to drive you home. He will call you later.’

Tiffany wondered what on earth could be so urgent that Raul couldn’t even say goodbye to her. She looked
questioningly
at Luis. ‘It’s a family matter, Miss Taylor. I am sure Mr Garcia will be able to fill you in, but for now he cannot be disturbed. Shall we go?’

It was definitely not the ending to the night that Tiffany had been expecting. And it was only half-past eight! She felt totally wired, not at all keen on returning to an empty flat albeit a luxury one. As Luis drove her back into central London, she got straight on her iPhone and texted Jez and Kara to see if they fancied going clubbing. Both said yes and agreed to meet at the Hyde Park flat for champagne first. It would be Sainsbury’s own-brand, but, hey, she could live with that …

TIFFANY WAS LOVING
being out with her friends – as she had expected, Kara and Jez hit it off straight away. They gossiped, danced and drank cocktails; gossiped, danced, drank more cocktails. She had swapped the maxi for black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder white tee-shirt with a black-and-white picture of Debbie Harry circa 1986. Her gorgeous Louboutins completed the look. She tousled her hair, went big on the eyeliner and false lashes.

Tiffany deliberately didn’t look at her phone, because she couldn’t help feeling slightly put out by what had happened. She would have been very surprised if Raul had handed out that sort of treatment to his two supermodels and the actress. Maybe he thought he could get away with it with Tiffany. She wasn’t super or A-list enough. But hadn’t she deserved some kind of explanation before Luis whisked her away? And, yes, possibly she was being over-sensitive, but after Sean that wasn’t surprising …

‘Ooh, that footballer can’t keep his eyes off you,’ Jez exclaimed as they collapsed on the blood-red leather sofas. ‘He’s been past here twice, checking you out.’

‘He plays for Chelsea, doesn’t he?’ Kara put in, a
footie
fan herself, though she supported West Ham.

Tiffany sipped her strawberry Mojito and shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but shouldn’t he be looking for someone more WAG-like than me? Are you sure he wasn’t checking you out, Kara?’ Her friend was wearing a gold sequined mini-skirt and black strapless top.

Tiffany crossed her legs and swung her left leg, admiring the shiny Louboutin. So much prettier and more reliable than a man. Every time she thought back to earlier that evening, straddling Raul in the hot tub, a wave of embarrassment, mixed with desire, swept over her.

‘I think I might dedicate myself to shoes and fashion and forget all about men,’ she declared.

‘You don’t mean that! And I bet Raul has left loads of messages on your phone. I’m sure he was just as gutted as you about what happened.’ This from Kara. The three friends had already dissected the night’s events, with both Kara and Jez putting a sympathetic spin on what had happened. Jez had gone off on one and said that it sounded like a great Country and Western song, and then proceeded to sing, ‘Oh, my man gone done and left me in a hot tub, and the bubbling, fragrant water can’t hide my pain. Did I do something awful to provoke his disdain?’ He would have gone on with several choruses if Tiffany hadn’t threatened him with physical violence.

One of the men who was with the footballer stopped by them at that point. ‘Hi. My friend wondered if you and your friends would like to join him for a drink in the VIP area?’

Tiffany smiled. ‘Can’t your friend speak for himself?’

‘He’s a bit shy,’ the man admitted.

It was on the tip of Tiffany’s tongue to say that if he was trying to procure her for his friend then she was not interested, but Kara was so thrilled to be asked into
the
VIP area that Tiffany thought it would be mean not to at least have a drink and say hello.

‘OK,’ she said nonchalantly, getting up from the sofa. ‘Lead the way.’

They ended up in a very exclusive part of the club – The Dom Perignon Room, which had walls and leather sofas as green as the bottle holding the champagne Tiffany had drunk earlier that night. The footballer was sitting at a table in an intimate alcove. He stood up when Tiffany and her friends approached.

Tiffany put him at around her own age. He was mixed race, good-looking, with a shaved head and diamond studs in both ears. Tiffany clocked the black silk shirt and leather trousers. Good-looking as he undoubtedly was, he was so not her type. And he might have the body for leather trousers, but that didn’t mean he should wear them. Frankly no one should. Whenever she saw anyone wearing leather trousers she only ever thought how hot they must be, and that was hot as in sweaty. The friend, who they discovered was called Gerry, introduced everyone to the footballer then manoeuvred them all into position so that Tiffany was sitting next to the young man. Hilariously she realised that Gerry hadn’t bothered to tell them the footballer’s name, clearly expecting they would all know who he was. A waiter came over with two bottles of champagne – Dom Perignon, naturally. She was definitely never going to be able to drink cheap wine again …

‘Thanks for coming over,’ the footballer said quietly. He had a strong Manchester accent. ‘I’ve seen you on TV, you’re really good.’ Tiffany smiled at him; he was cute with adorably long eyelashes that would be the envy of most women. He didn’t seem like the kind of footballer who would shag you and then shaft you with a super-injunction … but appearances were often
deceptive.
She leaned closer to him. ‘And I would say that I’ve seen you play football, but,’ she shrugged, ‘the beautiful game is not for me.’

‘No way! I bet you don’t say that to Cal Bailey!’

This was awkward. He knew exactly who she was, and she didn’t have a clue who he was.

‘I do actually.’ Then she ’fessed up, ‘No, you’re right, I pretend that I love football. I even read up on what the offside rule means before I met him. Cal Bailey is an icon.’

The footballer raised his eyebrows. ‘But you have no problem telling me that you don’t like football?’

Tiffany had obviously had one too many drinks because she wasn’t thinking straight. She screwed up her face. ‘Sorry, it’s been a bit of a long night. Will you accept my apology?’

‘A beautiful girl like you? No problem.’ He smiled at her then and Tiffany had to admit that the night was looking up. Absolutely nothing was going to happen between her and the footballer, but it was flattering to have two handsome men pursuing her in less than twenty-four hours, even if one had left her on her own in a hot tub. Jez was right, it did sound like a corny Country and Western song …

‘So what is the offside rule?’ The footballer scored for having a sense of humour.

‘Well, der! I thought you would know that!’ Tiffany teased. ‘But let me explain and it will really help out your game …’ She arranged the glasses and the champagne bottles and proceeded to demonstrate the offside rule.

‘You’re funny,’ the footballer told her.