Читать книгу Full Exposure - Diana Duncan - Страница 9

DANTE ENDURED THE NIGHT in a restless vigil that enabled him to leap to awareness. His eyelids slitted open as an anemic sunrise crawled above the horizon.

Gunmetal clouds glowered overhead. Wind-lashed waves reflected a leaden sky. A vile mood gnawed at his temper, and his body ached with pain…and arousal.

In contrast to the foul elements, the sweet morsel sleeping in his lap was warm and soft and tantalizing. And off-limits.

He scowled. It was going to be a terrific day.

He’d been livid when Ariana’s meddling at the dig site had caused his boss to yank him out of the smuggling ring to protect her. He’d lost eighteen months of planning and groundwork. Lost his position inside the Camorra.

Dante clenched his jaw. He’d used the resentment to sustain distance between them. But after six weeks babysitting Ariana, he’d lost his perspective. Last night when she was vulnerable, he should have targeted the opportunity to interrogate her again. Instead, he’d encouraged her to indulge in fairy tales.

He’d lost his damn mind.

He shifted away from the boulder digging into his spine, and Ariana stirred. Her long lashes fluttered up, and he fell into her deep, blue gaze. He hadn’t been afraid when the Greek was holding him underwater, but now fear uncoiled inside him.

He was in over his head.

Drowning.

Ariana’s wary glance assessed him. She’d have to be oblivious not to notice his reaction. Signorina Bennett had plenty of smarts.

“Hi.” Her husky contralto sounded sleepy. “I don’t think this is exactly what the cruise line intended when they offered me a job with travel and excitement.”

He surfaced, clinging to a life preserver of irritation. Liking her would only make double-crossing her more painful. He fought the urge to smile, managed a frown. “If we’re going to survive, we cannot loll around all day.”

“Drat, there goes my plan to stake out a beach blanket and sip lemonade.” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you always Prince Charming in the mornings?”

“There’s a reason the story you related last night is called a myth. Devoted princes, love eternal and happily ever after don’t exist.”

“But every woman pines for a high-maintenance guy who demands she sacrifice herself.” Ariana snorted. “I don’t know why Psyche thought a man was worth that much trouble, or pain.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And Eros was foolish to sacrifice his duty and honor.”

“Well, now that we’ve solved the imaginary problems of mythical beings, we can concentrate on escape.” She sat up, and he didn’t miss her wince of pain. “Priority one—where’s the ladies’ room?”

Like him, she was cut and bruised and must be hungry, thirsty and sore. Some women would complain, or cry. He couldn’t help but admire her fortitude and determination. “Twelve meters down, second boulder on the left.”

“See?” The sensual brush of her silky limbs ignited a fire in his belly. “You can smile without cracking your face. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Obviously, Ariana had chosen to ignore his blatant arousal. Hard didn’t begin to cover it.

“Dante, would you mind indulging me again?”

His pulse leaped, and his intent gaze held hers captive. Mia cara, I would indulge you as many times as you could handle…and more.

Her pupils dilated and her breath hitched in a small sound that made his heart stumble. “Um…please close your eyes so I can dress?”

Dante ground his back teeth in frustration. “Believe me, bella, you do not possess anything I have not seen before.”

“No doubt, but I’m not in the habit of providing a free peep show. And there aren’t enough euros in the western hemisphere.” She waved. “Now close those big brown eyes.”

Cold reality chilled his ardor. She was right.

Involvement with her could cost him everything.

He had a job to do. He couldn’t afford to pay her price. Both of them would pay dearly—with their lives—if he botched it.

He hadn’t survived years in a cutthroat occupation by being gullible enough to shut his eyes or turn his back on anyone. But he ducked his head when she slid off his lap—as much for himself as for her.

He finished dressing first and shot a glance sideways. Though she blocked the furtive movements, he watched her unearth a plastic-wrapped parcel from beneath a rock and cram it in her hip pocket. She still had her secrets.

And so did he.

Dante averted his gaze as she rose and stepped toward him. “I’m ready.” He pivoted, and she gingerly rubbed her back. “Camping on the beach sounds so romantic in stories. I don’t know about you, but sleeping on sand redefines abrasion. When I get back, we can explore.”

As he watched her slowly meander down the beach, a lightning bolt of desire seared him and he swore. Ariana was either remarkably naive, or the most cunning opponent he’d ever crossed blades with. And he’d parried with plenty of players.

Either way, he was in trouble.

He had to stay alert. Censor every word and action, so he didn’t end up speared on his own rapier.

Then again, perhaps that was his destiny.

But he’d prefer not to die today. Dante stalked in the opposite direction to complete morning necessities, and then strode to the foamy surf. He stepped over the abandoned oar and crouched to wash his hands. Hoping to invigorate his brain, he splashed his face with cold seawater.

“Dante!” Ariana yelled.

Adrenaline rocketed through his system. He snatched the oar and surged to his feet. Heart pounding, he spun, ready for battle.

Stumbling toward him, she pointed at the bluff. “Look!”

Dante tilted his head. At the top of the mountain, weak sunlight flickered on glass. The energy pumping through him ratcheted up a notch. “There appears to be a house at the crest of the bluff.” Set back from the hillside, the cottage was a speck in the craggy landscape.

She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go!”

“Un momento.” Dante shocked Ariana by towing her up the rocky shoals and into the lee of the cliff.

Her temper ignited and she rounded on him. “What is your problem?”

“You are my problem.” Dante glowered at her. “Like it or not, you are mine to protect. And I will do what I must to keep you alive.”

Ariana inhaled a slow breath. He meant well. Dante had saved her life…several times. And taken several beatings. “I appreciate that. But I asked you to stop yanking me around like a sock puppet.”

“I am not accustomed to decision by committee. In my world, hesitation is lethal.” Dante scrubbed a hand over his beard. “We were not left here at random. We don’t know who resides in that house. Who is watching us. Whether they will help us or try to kill us.”

Her hopes plummeted. Absolutely right. She was in his territory, and he held the key to survival. “Valid point.” If Dante thought he felt odd making decisions by committee, he had no idea how off balance she felt at reacting with her emotions. The life-or-death events she’d faced the past few weeks, and especially the past few days, had outed a primitive facet of herself. A wildness that scared her, but once loosed wouldn’t be caged. “Now what?”

Dante’s biceps flexed as he raised his knee and snapped the bottom off the oar. His swift, graceful demonstration of masculine power left her gaping. No one of her acquaintance could do anything as impressive.

Dante handed her the staff and inclined his head at the twisted, vertical path scored into the bluff. “Now we climb.”

The rugged goat track was barely wide enough for them to trudge side by side. Steely clouds crowded the sky, and as they left the beach, wind gusts buffeted them. He insisted she wear his coat, though two of her could fit inside. It smelled deliciously of supple leather…and Dante.

She struggled to keep up his challenging pace. Dried scrub and rocks jutted from the terrain and gnarled cypress trees clung to the hillside. Her sore muscles protested every step, and the walking stick helped. During her years of asthma attacks, she had endured not feeling well, but even then, whining wasn’t in her nature. Dante had said she was his problem, and her pride refused to give him more reasons to resent her. She would not be a burden. She raised her chin and soldiered on.

Talking would have deflected her misery as they toiled up the rocky incline, but Dante’s monosyllabic replies discouraged her numerous attempts at conversation. The only sounds were the surf’s rhythmic crash from below and squawking seagulls.