Читать книгу Latin Lovers Untamed - Jane Porter - Страница 11

DANTE offered to drive Daisy home, and since Carter had abandoned her, she accepted the offer. Inside his car, she reached for her seat belt and then grimaced with pain.

“Still hurts?” he said, watching her struggle with her seat belt.

He leaned toward her, one long arm extended, and grasped the silver tab of the seat belt, pulling the strap secure. She felt his nose and mouth brush her hair, and her stomach tightened, a hot desire coiling in her belly.

“That’ll teach you to fight,” he said, lifting her hand and inspecting the swelling.

A knot formed in her throat. His touch made her feel almost frantic. “Please, not another lecture.”

Dante saw the emotion darken her eyes, her skin heating with a desire she hadn’t fully come to terms with. Well, that made two of them, he thought savagely, torn between duty and desire.

He wanted nothing more than to draw her onto his lap and kiss the creamy line of her jaw and the hollow beneath her ear. He wanted to touch his tongue to the rapid pulse at the base of her neck.

But he couldn’t do it. Not now, not the way things were between them.

Frustration roughened his voice. “If you’re going to throw punches, you should at least know how to fight. I’m surprised your father didn’t teach you.”

“He didn’t approve of girls fighting.”

“Smart man.” Dante knew he should start the car but he couldn’t stop looking at her. Her mouth was so soft. Her skin so sensitive. He just wanted to give her one kiss, there, on the corner of her lips.

But that one kiss wouldn’t be enough. He’d be driven to kiss her lower lip and then the incredibly soft side of her neck and—He turned the engine on. Scruples! He bit back an oath and shifted into gear. The car roared down the driveway.

Daisy’s soft voice penetrated his dark mood. “I thought you hated my dad.”

“I hate irresponsibility,” he said after a moment, easing his foot off the accelerator. “But I don’t hate your dad. However, I don’t think he did you any favors by retiring when the farm was deep in debt.”

He was about to continue when he caught a glimpse of her face reflected in the glass. She’d turned to look out the window, and he saw worry in her eyes, saw pain there, too. Daisy Collingsworth wasn’t all that tough.

Dante flexed one hand against the steering wheel, muscles tight with tension. Being alone with her was going to drive him mad.

“If you must throw a punch,” he said tersely, eyes on the road, the car’s headlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating scattered oak trees and miles of fence, “the power has to come from here.” He tapped her shoulder. “Never your wrist.”

Just the touch of his fingers on her bare shoulder made her ache. He was winding her up, turning her into a quivering ball of need. She was in over her head. But it had nothing to do with horses and debts. It was Dante. He was doing this to her. No other man had turned her inside out like this. She knew how to handle a spirited horse but she knew nothing about managing a virile, sexual man. Which was why working with Dante could be a disaster. If she wasn’t careful, he could—would—take advantage of her.

In front of her house he killed the engine and Daisy saw the front door of the farm house open and close. What was Zoe doing up?

She swung open her door, moonlight reflecting off her sequin top, casting shimmering dots against the car.

“Rosie, is that you?”

Daisy’s heart faltered. Dad. What was he doing outside at this time of night?

Conscious of Dante slowly climbing from the car, she rushed toward the house, high heels clicking against the brick walk. “Daddy, go inside.”

But her father moved forward into the light. “Who’s there?”

“Dad, it’s me, Daisy. Go inside.” She couldn’t let Dante see her father like this. Her father’s pajamas weren’t lined up straight, the blue and burgundy pinstripes going off in different directions. His hair was messy and his eyes vacant. She tried to push him into the house but he wouldn’t move. “Daddy, please.”

“Bill, do you have a minute?” Dante said sharply. He’d recognized her father and sounded angry.

“No, he doesn’t,” she retorted, shooting Dante a furious glance over her bare shoulder. She wouldn’t let her dad get drawn into this, wouldn’t let him face anyone’s ridicule. She held his hand between hers. “Go inside now. Please.”

“But I thought I heard a car,” her father said.

“You did. It was Dante Galván’s,” she choked, feeling a sense of doom. Things just kept getting worse.

“Who?”

“Dante Galván, from Buenos Aires.”

“Don’t know him.”

She saw Dante from the corner of her eye. His eyes were narrowed, his expression impossible to read. “It’s okay, Dad, and it’s late. Let me take you in.”

“Where’s your mother?”

Chest tight, heart aching, Daisy reached up to smooth the puckered pajama top. “Mom’s gone, Dad.”

“But she’s coming home soon.”

Her mother had been gone for twenty years. She’d died when Daisy was four, just hours after Zoe was born.

“Not that soon,” she answered gently, hating to see the confusion in his eyes, his eyes the same light blue shade as hers. Zoe’s irises were more lavender, while Daisy’s and her father’s were glacier blue. “Let’s go upstairs. Get you back to bed. Okay?”

Dante was waiting for her in the front hall when she came downstairs.

He didn’t speak, and she didn’t look at him. She stood there, waiting for whatever would come next.

A minute passed and then another. She couldn’t stand it, had to get through whatever pity—or scorn—he might express. She looked up. Dante’s expression was sober.

“He’s sick,” Dante said quietly.

“Yes. Alzheimer’s.”

“He’s been ill for awhile.”

Daisy didn’t answer, and Dante continued. “He must have been ill when he signed the contract with my father.”

“I imagine so.” She was so tired she was shaking.

“You should have told me.” He sounded angry, but whether with her or Tino, she didn’t know. “My father destroyed dozens of people with his greed. Chaos and destruction. That was my father’s legacy.”

Daisy clasped her arms around her. She felt moved to tears but she didn’t cry. She hadn’t cried in nearly twenty years. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. My father took advantage of your father. It makes me sick. It makes me—” he broke off, shook his head. “I swear to you, Daisy, I will not let my father’s legacy continue. His greed stops here. I cannot let his avarice destroy you.”

Overnight Dante took control of their lives.

He hired a housekeeper and a part-time nurse and sent for Clemente, one of his managers from his Argentina estancia.

“We can’t afford the help,” Daisy protested on learning what he’d done. She felt increasingly vulnerable. It was one thing to get help for Zoe and the house, but to send for his manager? He wasn’t going to replace her, was he?

“I’m paying the salaries,” he answered, dismissing her worries. “I can afford it.”

“But we’ll never pay you back.”

“No, you won’t, but the farm will. We’ll restructure the contract between Galván Enterprises and Collingsworth Farm.”

So it had happened. The farm was no longer a private family business. Dante was in charge. Daisy swallowed the lump in her throat. “So what will I be doing?” she whispered.

“Taking a crash course in farm management.”

“Where?”

“Argentina.”

Daisy did a double-take. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I couldn’t be more serious.”

He was serious. Nearly forty-eight hours later she was boarding his jet at dawn at Lexington’s executive airport. But she was still fighting him every inch of the way. “I don’t see the point in dragging me to Argentina to work your ranch when I have a farm of my own,” she said, settling into her leather seat.

“Management isn’t an innate skill, it’s an acquired knowledge, something that must be learned.”

“Yes, but I could learn at home. Under Clemente.”

“Felipe Gutierrez, my estancia manager, trained Clemente. He’ll train you. He is the best.” Dante took out a newspaper and turned his attention to the text.

Obviously, in his mind, the discussion was over.

Daisy wanted to argue but knew she’d already lost the battle. She was on the plane, wasn’t she?

They flew from Kentucky to Miami where they were scheduled to refuel before making the long hop to Buenos Aires.

Unfortunately, flying into Miami proved disastrous. Within an hour after arriving, hurricane warnings forced Miami’s air traffic control to temporarily shut down the runways.

Dante was immediately on his cell phone, pacing the executive terminal and making a stream of calls. He spoke in Spanish, a language Daisy had studied in high school for two years, which meant she could order a meal but not much else. Yet she didn’t need to speak his language to know he was furious, and with each successive phone call his voice grew sharper and his expression darker. Something was definitely wrong.

As he paced, Daisy overheard him say a woman’s name not just once or twice, but repeatedly. Then he snapped his phone closed. The phone rang again, he answered even more curtly, and again he ended the call abruptly.

She didn’t know what the issue was, but somehow she knew he’d win in the end. He picked his battles carefully, focused on the outcome and persevered.

Like with Carter at the Lindleys’. And then with her and the farm contract. When she’d met him yesterday at Pembroke, Pembroke and Brown, he knew exactly what he wanted and he got it. He was nothing if not shrewd.

With the new contract, he’d positioned himself as the controlling investor in Collingsworth Farm, owning a majority interest. He’d receive eighty percent of the future returns and would have the final say in all issues relating to farm operations, including replacing Daisy as farm manager in six months’ time if he didn’t feel proper progress was being made.

He hadn’t resorted to blackmail, she thought ruefully, watching him pocket his cell phone, but he’d come awfully close.

Dante turned and faced her. But he wasn’t looking at her. At least, he wasn’t seeing her. He was miles away, lost in thought. She’d never seen him so troubled and she resisted feeling a twinge of sympathy. If he hadn’t played hardball with her over the farm contract, she might have more empathy, but he was tough. He deserved what he got.

Suddenly he looked at her and saw her watching him. The heavy crease between his brows eased, and his jaw relaxed into a reluctant smile.

Her heart did a funny little flip. Why it did, she didn’t know, but even her pulse quickened and her lips curved into a reluctant smile.

He walked toward her, stopped in front of her chair. “I haven’t been good company,” he said rather apologetically.

She saw the fatigue in his expression, creases fanning from his eyes. He really did look tired. “Problems at home?” she guessed.

“Always.” He laughed and shook his head. “My family is like a soap opera. Nothing but crisis and melodrama.”

He made her smile. “Sounds interesting.”

“If unstable.” His grin stretched, a self-deprecating grin that made him look incredibly charming and incredibly dangerous. “But I’ve never minded challenges.”

Somehow she sensed he wasn’t just referring to his family.

Once the hurricane warnings were lifted they were allowed to take off. Six hours after takeoff the Gulfstream jet made its final descent, dropping through a brilliant glaze of late afternoon sun and startling blue sky. Daisy leaned toward the window, gazing out the plane window at the clear horizon and the endless green and gold land. The ground loomed closer, and the plane’s wings dipped then righted.

The jet touched down on the runway in a series of little hops, gradually reducing speed until it rolled to a complete stop.

“Someone from the estancia will be picking us up,” Dante said, opening the Gulfstream’s door and jumping out. “The pilot radioed ahead. Shouldn’t be long now.”

Daisy recoiled at the blanket of heat as she stepped off the plane. Unlike the warm humid American South, the climate was hot and dry and the high temperature seemed to swallow her whole.

It looked as though they’d landed in the middle of nowhere. The airstrip cut straight through what appeared to be one endless pasture. She saw nothing for miles but grass. Just a distant line of scrubby trees marked the horizon. She shaded her eyes, squinting against the sun. “Where are we again?”

“About five miles from the house.”

“The land is endless.”

“This is the pampas.” He rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing sinewy tendons and tanned forearms, and quickly unloaded the luggage from the tail of the plane.

The pilot and plane had been gone for over an hour, and despite Dante’s assurances, no one had arrived for them. Daisy took a seat on her battered suitcase, propped her boots on another and made herself comfortable.

“I’m sorry about this.” Dante’s tone was clipped, his embarrassment tangible. “Someone should have been here by now, which leads me to believe that there’s been a bit of a problem.”

Daisy’s wide, curious gaze induced him to explain. “Anabella,” he said. “My sister. I have three sisters, but Anabella is the pill. My constant headache. She is more trouble than all the Galváns put together.”

Yet despite his cynical words, Daisy heard the tenderness in his voice. He loved his sister. Very much. “Perhaps it’s not really Anabella creating the problem.”

“It’s because I know her and love her I can safely say this delay is Anabella’s fault. This has never happened before. Not in ten years of flying in and out of the ranch.”

“Can you call someone?”

“I don’t get cellular coverage here. No towers in the area yet. I intend to bring them in, though. In fact, that’s what I’m working on now.”

Daisy tossed a small pebble. “We can always walk.”

“Not an option. Can’t leave the luggage and too much to carry.”

“But what if no one comes?”

“Someone will come. I’m expected.”

Daisy struggled not to smile. “Yes, obviously.”

He shot her a quick look, black eyebrows rising. “What was that you said, muneca?”

He was looking at her, really looking at her, and she felt his size, his strength and his focus. His attention was as thrilling as it was unnerving. She still had no idea how to handle his blatant virility.

Suddenly whatever they were talking about was less interesting, less important than what was happening between them. Daisy shifted on the suitcase, put her feet down, bracing her. “I, uh …”

He took a small step toward her. “Yes?”

She wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to close the distance between them, wrap his hands around her arms and drag her close. She wanted to feel him pressed hard against her, and her throat swelled closed, her body throbbing, heart hammering.

She thought he must feel her, because she certainly felt him. She felt an energy, an awareness that she’d never felt from anyone before.

Daisy swallowed hard, pressed her hands to her thighs, struggled to calm her turbulent emotions. She’d never survive a night here at this rate, much less six weeks.

“Daisy?”

No one had ever said her name that way before. He made her feel sexy, desirable. “Yes?”

His gaze was intense. He seemed to be staring into her, searching for something, and yet she didn’t know what he wanted to find. “This can’t happen here, Daisy.”

Her mouth turned dry. She blinked to focus on him better.

“Anabella is very … impressionable.”

“Most teenage girls are,” she answered faintly.

“Yes, but not all are quite so self-destructive. Anabella is on a crash course with disaster.” He hesitated, tension rolling off him in waves. “I’m responsible for her.”

Daisy felt warmth creep beneath her skin. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

His inflection made her quiver. Did she understand? He had to be a good brother, a role model, responsible. He was going to do the right thing.

But what did that have to do with her?

Dante was waiting for her to answer. She mustered a smile, feeling both awkward and unsure of herself. She wasn’t sure what he wanted from her. “Actually, maybe I don’t understand. How does your responsibility for Anabella impact me?”

“This—us,” he said bluntly, gesturing toward her, “won’t work here.”

She couldn’t have been more shocked or embarrassed. He wasn’t serious, was he? And if he was, he had no right suggesting or projecting. They’d exchanged a kiss at the Lindleys’. Big deal. It signified nothing. She’d been kissed before and hadn’t planned a wedding.

“I think you’re worried about nothing,” she said tightly. She’d been clenching her teeth trying to stay calm and her jaw had begun to ache with the effort. “I’m not looking for romance, and if I did, I wouldn’t look to you.”

Color flared in his cheekbones. “I could make you eat your words.”

“That wasn’t a dare, Dante, just a statement of fact. You like to think that you’ve got me—and life—all figured out. Well, you don’t. You might be able to control yourself, but you can’t control others, and you certainly can’t control me. I’m here for one reason and one reason only—to work with Señor Gutierrez and learn how to run a more efficient stable.”

His amber eyes blazed, and she ignored the whisper in her head that said she was being too confrontational, too Daisy.

“You are attracted to me,” he insisted.

“Just like I’m attracted to a thousand other men. But I don’t chase them and I don’t hop into bed with them. So you can relax, count, you’re safe with me.”

Suddenly he was moving toward her and lifting her to her feet. Just his hands on her arms made her shiver, but when his leg bumped her knee, wedging her feet apart, she gasped for air.

“What was that?” he murmured, his mouth near her ear, his lips brushing her skin as he drew her close against him, hip to hip. “Were you eating your words, maybe?”

She shuddered at the feel of his chest against her breasts. He was warm and hard where she was soft. It was delicious and torturous at the same time. “Not a chance.”

“False courage is worse than no courage,” he taunted, shifting slightly, and just that subtle swing of his hips made her sinfully aware of his arousal. She ached in every place he touched, and fireworks exploded beneath her skin.

Helplessly she sucked in a breath, her head spinning, senses reeling, every nerve in her so taut and alive that she felt as though she’d burst out of her skin any moment. “You’re the one making assumptions.”

“I’m not making assumptions. I want you. You know I want you, but we can’t have an affair because it’s not the right example to set for Anabella.”

Fire-hot shivers raced through her. She’d never felt so heated before. “No. We can’t have one because I don’t want one with you!”

“You can’t admit the truth.”

“The truth is we’re only together now because we’re stuck with the lousy decisions our fathers made. We have nothing in common, we would have never been attracted to each other if we weren’t forced to work together, and this … this energy or chemistry or whatever you want to call it isn’t real.”

He laughed grimly. “It’s as real as anything else in life, muneca.”

“Well, I don’t feel a thing.” And that was a lie, she thought, because her legs had melted and her body felt like honey and she wanted him so badly she thought she’d pop out of her skin.

He knew she was lying, too.

His eyes darkened, his head shook once and then his mouth covered hers in a hard punishing kiss, a kiss that stole her breath, clouded her head and turned her legs to mush.

His tongue thrust against the edge of her teeth, flicked the inside of her lower lip, and when she opened her mouth to him plundered the warm, moist recesses.

The incredibly sexual thrusting of his tongue gave her a graphic idea of what his body would do to hers given the chance, and she shuddered in response, desire surging through her in wild, unmitigated waves.

A moan of frustration escaped her, and he arched her backward, dragging her hips tight against his hard groin and pressing her chest. It was a strangely vulnerable position and yet also exciting.

He made her feel so hot and sensitive that when his hand slid beneath her blue cotton blouse she nearly fainted at the exquisite pleasure of his palm against her bare skin.

His touch was electric, erotic. His fingertips seemed to count and measure her ribs before cupping her breasts. This desire was something altogether new, something so wild and desperate that Daisy couldn’t think, just feel. She felt his palm graze her nipple over the lace cup of her bra and then peel the lace away and rub the nipple.

Her body had taken over; her need had a will of its own. She loved the newness of her desire, loved the intensity, as well. She’d never thought she could feel so much, hadn’t expected her hunger to be so strong.

With one hand he cupped her bottom and urged her closer to his hips, pressing her against his straining body.

Sweet mercy. Her gasp left him in no doubt as to her feelings, nor did her helpless response as his hips ground against hers, his arousal pressing between her thighs, striking the most tender of nerves.

Her breasts felt heavy, the nipples thrusting against her shirt, her thighs clenched, desire throbbing in her belly. She’d strip here, if he wanted. She’d strip him, too, and—

A car horn blared in the distance, over and over, as though the driver were leaning on it.

Daisy heard the noise in a dim part of her brain and managed to ignore it. But Dante heard it and with a guttural groan pulled away.

“This is real,” he said thickly, as she swayed on her feet and clung to his arms, “but this is what can’t happen. Not here. Not in Argentina, and especially near my sister. Comprehende?”

He was furious, but whether with her or himself she couldn’t tell. She stared into his eyes, saw the fire mix with anger, desire with frustration and knew he was right. This was not a good thing and couldn’t be encouraged, much less permitted.

“Comprehende,” she replied, pushing back from him, her face warm, her body throbbing.

He’d obliterated her self-control completely. Turned her inside out and reduced her to a puddle of need. Incredible.

The car horn sounded again, and Dante lifted a hand in greeting as a dark green Land Rover jostled and gyrated into view.

“My sister,” he said grimly, turning to face Daisy and attempting to tuck the hem of her blouse into her trousers.

She brushed his hand away. “Don’t worry. This won’t happen again.”

His lips compressed. He glanced at the clouds of dust encircling the car and then at Daisy. “You understand why?”

She shoved the shirttail inside her waistband and adjusted her silver belt buckle. “Yes. Because I don’t want this to happen again.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“It is the issue. Your father and my father screwed up, and we’ve been left to sort it out. So let’s sort it out so I can go home and get the hell out of Argentina!” She heard her voice crack, felt her composure shatter. She was on the edge, more than on the edge and very close to losing all self-control.

His kiss, his hands, his touch … they undid her. Worse than undid her.

He made her want so much—too much—and she didn’t know how to cope with such intense sensations and emotions. It was one thing to be attracted to someone but it was another to feel utterly carnal. And she felt carnal. She felt hungry and raw and desperate.

Heaven help her, this was not how it was supposed to be, at all.