Stealing Hearts (Ebook)

RAPH WOULD RECOGNIZE those blue eyes anywhere. Shimmering like a field of flax on a summer’s day, her gaze held him captive as it scoured the crowded marketplace.Her face might have been partially concealed by the rack of clothes she crouched behind, but he would never forget the colour of those eyes.

What the hell was she doing here in this small Spanish town? He hadn’t seen her at the villa, so she wasn’t one of Etienne’s guests. Unless he’d kept her hidden in his room. The thought riled him, even after all this time.

He ran a finger round the inside of his collar, easing his shirt away from his neck. It was only half past ten, but already the stifling temperature made him long to be gone from here and travelling down the coast road back into France. A sea breeze was just what he needed to clear his mind.

But first he had a question to be answered.

Pushing through the throng of people bustling down the main aisle of the market, he walked over to the makeshift clothes stall. She was so preoccupied watching the crowds as they milled about that she didn’t notice him as he stood opposite her on the other side of the metal garment rail.

“Bonjour, Evie.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and a small gasp fell from her lips as she turned towards him. She recovered quickly, slipping on the sunglasses that dangled in her hand and schooling her face into a blank expression.

“Pardon Monsieur, vous me prend pour quelqu’un d’autre.”

He smiled to himself. Her French hadn’t improved much over the years, but her light, lyrical voice was still the same.

“Chérie—” He held his fist over his chest, feigning distress, and switched to English. “Don’t break my heart all over again by saying you’ve forgotten me?”

She didn’t acknowledge his words but turned her gaze back to the busy market square with the customary haughtiness he’d once seen as a challenge to break through and make her smile.

A trader called out from a nearby stand and drew his thoughts momentarily away from her. With hands heavily tanned from years in the sun, the vendor offered passers-by a taste of his melons, picked that morning. Their pink flesh looked cool and tempting on the tray.

Thirsty, he swallowed hard and stared back at Evie. In profile, she was more beautiful than ever. He used to spend hours tracing the outline of her face with his fingers. Over her brow, down her slim, straight nose, into her cupid’s bow and across those soft sensuous lips.

His voice was husky when he spoke again. “Surely you haven’t forgotten us.” That got her attention.

She pushed her sunglasses back on top of her head. Ice cold eyes met his. It should have been enough to chill him, even in this heat, but he’d hardened his heart against Evie a long time ago.

“Sorry, my mind’s a complete blank.” A polished smile accompanied her words.

“Would you like me to refresh it?” He kept his tone low, seductive, although it irked him that maybe he wasn’t as memorable as he thought. Had she really forgotten him?

“Go away,” she said in a loud whisper. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and she lowered her head, causing the sunglasses to drop over her eyes. She started to flick furiously through the clothes in front of her.

He reached over and placed his hand on hers, stilling the sound of hangers scraping along the metal rail. “That’s no way to greet an old friend.”

She snatched her hand back. “We’re not friends!”

“D’accord, you’re right. Lovers, then. Do you spurn all those you cast aside?”

At Evie’s sharp intake of breath, his heart-rate sped up as he recognised the desire that his words had sparked inside of her.

“Raph, I don’t have time for this.”

His ego was appeased. “So you do remember my name?”

She sighed. The sound escaping her lips triggered images he’d long since pushed to the back of his mind. He could almost smell the cut grass they’d lain on when they’d first made love.

He shut the memory down. She wasn’t the person she had pretended to be. Not the sweet siren who’d lured him in with a dark promise in her eyes, but a manipulative socialite ready to swap men as easily as she changed dresses.

“What are you doing here?” It was the last place he would ever have expected to see her. This Spanish town was a million miles from her parent’s country estate in Oxfordshire, itself just an hour from the party life she frequented in London.

“Minding my own business.”

Raph smiled. He’d always admired her dry wit. “Since when?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” She looked away, disinterested, and continued scanning the market. “I seem to recall it was you who constantly interfered in other people’s lives.”

He might have only known Evie for a few short weeks, but he could see she was dodging the question. What was it she didn’t want him to know? Despite Evie’s independent streak, there was one person she rarely refused. “Let me take a wild stab in the dark—Tristan has you running errands for him again?”

Her gaze flew up to meet his over the top of her sunglasses. Et voilà. Some things never change.

She sighed again. “Just go away, Raph. It’s complicated and I don’t need the distraction.”

The sound of footsteps approaching from the alleyway behind made her glance over her shoulder. She pulled the canvas bag she held closer, positioning it between herself and the rack of clothes. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her breathing increased. The glimpse of fear in Evie’s eyes before she pushed her glasses back up her nose, made his own muscles tense in response.

As the footsteps drew nearer, Evie stepped further into the market stall. The edge of the tent obscured her from being seen by anyone coming in that direction. When a couple of tourists came around the corner, she let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know why she was nervous, but he could guarantee who was behind it.

His anger grew as her body language relaxed. Raph gripped the rail and leant over. “Who forces someone to do something that clearly terrifies them?”

A defiant gaze met his blazing one. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Tristan had her doing this time, but whatever it was, it scared her.

Raph never understood why she was always so eager to appease her brother. The guy deserved to have some sense knocked into him, not to have a hold over people.

“Evie, I’m waiting.”

“I don’t answer to you.”

He leant away. No, she never did. And he told himself that he didn’t care after the last time he’d seen her, wrapped around Etienne. He’d walked out of the party that night and headed straight back to France.

Seemingly recovered from her fright, she picked up a hanger off the rack and held the dress to her, covering the white blouse and black skirt she wore. She whipped off her sunglasses and glanced down briefly at the garment before sweeping her eyes upwards to the market square, surveying the crowds with intent.

He studied her face. Despite the stress lines that marred her forehead, the years had been kind to her. She looked closer to twenty-one than the nearly thirty he knew her to be. But something was different, if only he could lay his finger on it.

Her hair was scraped back tight into a ponytail, and she’d always worn it loose before, the honeyed strands floating down over her shoulders. The first time they’d met, he’d thought of her as an angel of mercy, standing above him asking if he was okay after she’d knocked him over.

“Do you speak Spanish?”

For a moment he didn’t register her question because he’d been so lost in the past. “A little.”

“Good.” She nodded over at the market stall holder. “Tell her I want to buy the dress.” Lifting the slip of cotton she held in her hands, she continued handing out orders. “And ask if there’s somewhere I can change into it.”

“Oui, madame.” He made a courtly bow. “Anything else?”

Evie unfastened her bag and pulled out her purse. Her demeanour changed from one of superiority to embarrassed resignation as she searched the numerous pockets within the leather wallet. She paused, as if deliberating with herself, and a faint blush stole over her cheeks.

“I don’t suppose you could pay for the dress, too?”

Raph raised an eyebrow in response and turned towards the vendor. It didn’t even occur to him that she would give him the cash. He’d taken enough women shopping to know that he was expected to provide the funds, which was fine by him, so long as he got a say in the choice of lingerie.

After some haggling, he handed over a twenty euro note and returned to where Evie stood. The aloofness of earlier was gone, and she seemed more like the Evie he’d first met in Hyde Park all those years ago.

“I’m so sorry. I could have sworn I had more in my purse than a few euros.” An apologetic smile crossed her lips.

He needed to steel himself against getting caught up with her again and remember that the soft, defenceless personality she did so well was all an act. “Ah, chérie, and I thought you got your kicks taking rich guys for a ride.”

She frowned at him. Perhaps the comment was harsh, but meeting Evie unexpectedly had knocked him sideways.

“Alors. It was twenty euros, Evie. Forget it.” He peered over the rail between them, taking in the shoddiness of her clothes. “What happened to your usual Chanel outfit?”

She glanced down and pulled a face. When she looked up again, her eyes held an air of indifference. “I’m travelling light.”

A derisive laugh escaped his mouth. He could argue with her, but what was the point? Instead he nodded towards the inside of the stall. “She said if you go to the rear there is a small curtained area. You can change in there.”

Evie squeezed around the rack of clothes, clutching her bag tight against her body. Just what, or who, was she hiding from?

“Should I wait for you?” he called after her.

She kept walking, but her words floated back to him. “Suit yourself.”

He watched as she sashayed away from him. It didn’t matter that the skirt she wore was ugly. He was too mesmerised by the gentle sway of her hips to care.

Putain. Unfaithful or not, he still wanted her. Merde, he was in trouble.

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