Читать книгу Latin Lovers Untamed - Jane Porter - Страница 12

THE green car careened to a stop, kicking up dirt and loose pebbles. The driver leaned out the window, arms braced against the door, long black hair tumbling past bare shoulders. “Hola, Dante,” the teenage girl shouted.

“You’re late,” Dante snapped.

“Not very. A half hour. Maybe an hour.”

She’d been speaking Spanish, but Dante abruptly switched to English. “Two hours late, Anabella. You were supposed to be here at four.”

Anabella switched easily to English, too, her accent surprisingly mild. She’d obviously spent considerable time in the States.

“You said five,” Anabella insisted. “I come up at five.” Her slim shoulders lifted, fell in a graceful little shrug. “Four. Five. Sounds the same, no? Maybe I misunderstood.”

“They don’t sound the same to most people,” Dante answered, teeth flashing, jaw jutting, making Daisy think of a lion snarling.

“But I’m not most people.”

Daisy was sure he was going to lose his temper. He looked perfectly furious. And then suddenly the tension melted from his body, the anger fading from his features. “No, you’re not like most people. That’s the problem with you.”

She shot him a naughty, teasing glance, green-gold eyes dancing with mischief. “It’s good to see you, too, Dante.”

“You are supposed to be in school. What happened?”

“They threw me out. Again. Can you believe that?” She made a face at him, chin propped on the windowframe. Her eyes were a lighter shade than Dante’s and considerably greener, but she was every bit as beautiful and perhaps even more vivid.

No wonder Dante had his hands full. Anabella wasn’t just physically perfect, she was mentally quick, her tone, gestures, features alive and vivacious.

“Unfortunately, I can believe it,” he answered, leaning forward and kissing her on each cheek. “Now get in the back, I’m going to drive home.”

“Let me drive!”

“Anabella.”

In the end, she reluctantly climbed over the seat, her tight black skirt hiked high on her thigh revealing an extraordinary amount of leg. Although Dante cast her outfit a disapproving glance, he didn’t directly comment on it.

Anabella had him wrapped around her gorgeous little finger.

In the car, luggage loaded and Dante behind the wheel driving them home, Anabella leaned forward to get a better look at Daisy.

“So you’re the new girlfriend,” Anabella announced, curiosity in her voice. “An American girlfriend. Just like Daddy used to have.”

Daisy shot Dante an uneasy glance. Their father had girlfriends?

Dante’s eyebrows lowered. “Ana, not in front of strangers.”

“But she’s not a stranger if she’s your girlfriend!”

“Daisy is not my girlfriend,” he answered tersely. “She’s here to work with Señor Gutierrez. It’s business.”

“Ah, business.” But Anabella’s arch expression indicated disbelief. “This is what you always say, Dante. Everything is business, but I know you are not a priest. You are too beautiful to be a priest.”

“Anabella!”

Dante sounded strangled. Daisy almost felt pity for him. Almost, but not quite.

Anabella smiled. Leaning against Daisy’s seat, she whispered to her, “Dante loves women. But he doesn’t get serious. Lots of women but no serious girlfriends and no wedding. He is too busy with business.”

“Ana!” Dante’s voice thundered through the car. Switching to Spanish, he gave his baby sister an earful, but Anabella shrugged and looked out the window.

After several tense, silent minutes Anabella sighed. “I hate the estancia. I don’t know why you keep this place, Dante. It makes me crazy here. Everything’s so slow.”

“It might be good for you to take things slow for awhile,” he said cryptically.

His sister tossed her head. “I can take things slow when I die, and I’m not dead yet.”

“You will be, if you continue to live so recklessly.”

Anabella didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then with a jerk she pulled herself forward, taking a seat on the center console. Her long hair hung in her eyes and she pushed it away with an impatient flick of her wrist. “You’re not going to leave me here, Dante. It’s just for the weekend, right? That’s what the driver said when he picked me up. Just for the weekend.” Her voice began to rise in panic and frustration. “You know I hate it here. Promise me I’m going back to the city with you on Sunday.”

Dante kept his eyes fixed on the pale dirt road ahead. “I can’t make that promise, Ana.”

Anabella let out a piercing cry. “You can’t keep me here. I’m not a prisoner. You can’t make me a prisoner.”

“I’m not making you a prisoner.”

“You are if you keep me here. You know how I go crazy here.”

“We’re not going to talk about it now.”

“Well, I am.” She slammed her hand down, rattling the console. “This isn’t my home. I want to go to Mama’s.”

“You know it’s not an option.”

“I’m almost eighteen. I can do what I want.”

“Not a chance.”

“Dante!”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear another word. Discussion over.”

Anabella fell back onto the seat and covered her face with her hands. No one spoke for the remainder of the journey.

Dante drove faster, gunning the motor as though chased by the devil, and maybe in a way he was, Daisy thought, clinging to the Land Rover seat, her silvery hair swirling in her eyes. Obviously they shared many family secrets, secrets that continued to haunt both Dante and Anabella.

The car bounced and jolted its way toward the distant line of trees. Closer, the trees loomed larger and rounder, the lush, leafy trees becoming a magnificent alley of shade that ended before a vast Spanish colonial mansion.

Drawing up in front of the house, Dante parked and turned off the engine. “My home,” he said, gesturing toward the elaborate whitewashed facade.

The bell tower’s red tiled roof gleamed almost copper beneath the early evening sun and reminded her of one of the missions in the American Southwest.

Daisy opened her door. “It’s not a new house built to look old?”

“No, it’s just naturally old,” Anabella sullenly interjected, jumping out and stomping up the front steps. “You won’t find anything new here. No television, no movies, no video or computer games. Just one hundred and eighty years of old.”

The front door shook as Anabella slammed it shut.

“And that,” Dante said flatly, grabbing the suitcases from the back, “is sweet Anabella.”

Dante was a beast.

A gorgeous beast, Daisy conceded, toweling off and dressing, putting on a pair of linen trousers the color of wheat and a matching sleeveless knit top.

He was a gorgeous beast who knew far more than she did about making love and happened to use his expertise on her with nerve-shattering ease. Just thinking about the kiss on the airstrip made her stomach do a fabulous flip-flop. He was skilled and doubly deadly because in this area he had far more control than she did, and if Daisy hated anything, it was weakness.

He made her weak. He made her crave things she couldn’t have, especially not from him.

The one and only time she’d been intimate with a man hadn’t been a disaster, but it hadn’t turned her into a vixen, either. He was a nice guy in her university program and they’d gone together for awhile before finally making love. She was twenty-one and ready to lose her virginity, but in the end, he hadn’t been the best choice. It wasn’t particularly awful. It just wasn’t particularly good. She’d gone through the motions, and that’s what it had been. Motions without any emotions. Some pelvic gyrations on his part, which left her rather … cold.

She’d decided she wasn’t the passionate sort. After all, she’d waited this long to have sex, she must not have a strong drive.

But Dante was making her reconsider that drive. In fact, he was forcing her to reconsider quite a few of her closely held beliefs.

Daisy put down her brush and stared at her reflection. Just because she felt attracted to him didn’t mean she could have, or should have, a relationship with him. Besides, did he really think he was the only one that cared about responsibility? She had just as strong a sense of duty and obligation as he did. Probably stronger.

So there. Nothing was going to happen because she didn’t want anything to happen. And that’s the way it was.

Now all she had to do was face him.

Outside her bedroom, Daisy was directed by one of the housemaids to the covered, lit patio where she discovered Dante waiting for her. The dining room’s French doors had been opened to welcome the cooler evening air, and pots of blooming citrus trees marked the long veranda at regular intervals.

He’d also showered and changed and was dressed in light chino slacks and a caramel knit shirt open at the collar. The caramel color was gorgeous on him, played up his thick dark hair, warm toffee eyes and the touch of bronze in his skin.

Beast, she muttered silently, feeling her heart begin to thump harder. “Where’s Anabella?” Daisy asked, not wanting to be alone with him, not the way she was feeling at the moment.

“She’ll be here soon.”

“I’ll go check on her.”

“No need. I asked her to give us fifteen minutes alone.”

Daisy stiffened and slowly turned to face him. “Why?”

His gaze held hers. “Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious we need to sort a few things out before I leave tomorrow.”

He was leaving already? Disappointment surged through her. Aware of his scrutiny she half-turned away, trying to cover her chaotic emotions. “What do we need to sort out?”

“For a woman who prefers honesty, you’ve certainly developed a taste for ambiguity.”

She blushed, swallowed, then acknowledged the truth in that. “What happened on the airstrip was a mistake.”

“It might have been impulsive, but it wasn’t a mistake.”

The caress in his voice was unmistakable. He stole her breath. Trapped her heart in his hands. She coughed, backed up a step. “But you said—”

“I never said I wasn’t attracted to you. I said we couldn’t have an affair, not while you’re here.”

“I don’t want an affair.”

“You do want me.”

She shook her head, horrifyingly aware of her needs and desires. She’d never discussed something so private before. “It was just the heat of the moment.”

His eyes narrowed and swept her hips, her breasts, her face. “Daisy, we are the heat of the moment.”

She felt herself grow hot, even more sensitive, acutely sensitive in her arms, legs, fingers. Her belly felt tight and heavy. Her blood raced. “I think I forgot something in my room.”

“Don’t be a coward.” His husky voice followed her as she started to flee.

Daisy froze, pressed her hands to her tummy, wondered how things had gotten so out of control. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a coward. I’ve never been a coward.”

“Then don’t run away from me. We need to get this sorted out before it becomes a problem. There’s too much at stake. For both of us.”

Her heart thumped harder. She didn’t understand her fear or her anxiety. “It won’t become a problem. I promise.”

“You can’t make a promise like that.”

“Why not?”

“Come here. I’ll show you.”

She turned, looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes wide. The corner of his mouth lifted, cynical and knowing. “I won’t touch you,” he taunted softly. “Just come, stand here. I’ll show you what I mean.”

He gestured her forward, prompting her closer inch by inch until she stood an arm’s length away.

The fine hair on her arms rose, skin prickling with awareness. She felt him, felt his heat and energy, and they were still two feet apart.

Her heart, which had been pounding a moment ago, seemed to stop, change rhythm and start beating again, this time more slowly.

“Feel that?” he asked, his voice deeper than before, huskier, with a sensual appreciation she couldn’t possibly ignore.

She couldn’t admit it, and wouldn’t admit it to him, but yes, she did feel him. It was the most intense current, a connection she couldn’t explain.

Energy, desire, hunger.

In his arms she’d go places she’d never been. But in his arms she’d also lose control, and if she lost control terrible things might happen. Destruction. Chaos. The loss of the family farm.

Daisy couldn’t risk it, no matter what she personally longed for.

The sun had gone, and the blue sky had long deepened with shades of lavender and gold. Daisy’s fingers itched to touch his clean-shaven jaw, feel the muscles rippling beneath his shirt. But she didn’t. “No. I don’t feel anything.”

His expression didn’t change. Not even a flicker in his eyes, but his gaze held her captive, pinned her in place. He might as well have called her a liar because it was there in his eyes, there in the twist of his lips.

“Feel what?” Anabella asked, making a sudden appearance.

Daisy took a jerky step and turned. Anabella was dressed in a slim red silk sheath that merged into a bright orange band at her feet. It was a stunning dress on her, a simple cut but of such vibrant color that the girl fairly exuded heat.

“The heat,” Daisy choked.

Anabella was oblivious to the undercurrents. “If you think this is hot, wait until January,” the girl answered, pouring herself a glass of juice. “January sizzles.”

Sizzles, Daisy repeated silently, catching the lift of Dante’s eyebrows. She could just imagine life on the estancia then.

They were called to dinner. Anabella and Dante appeared to have patched things up. They chatted during the meal and several times Anabella slipped into Spanish, but Dante would reply in English for Daisy’s sake.

Anabella shared a story about something that happened at school, drawing soft laughter from Dante.

Daisy furtively watched Dante as he listened to Anabella’s story.

He really was lovely. She liked looking at him, listening to his voice, watching him interact with his sister. He was a benevolent big brother, part doting, part disciplinarian, but his love was tangible.

Dante looked up, caught her staring, and his lips twisted. He touched a finger to his mouth, and she stared at his lips in fascination. She loved the way his mouth felt against hers. She loved the way he kissed her. It was the most right feeling in the world.

His mouth curved into a crooked smile, and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking. He couldn’t possibly sense her craving, could he?

His lashes suddenly lowered but not before she saw the speculative gleam in his eyes. He knew, she thought, drawing a breath, he knew. And he’d have something to say about it later.

Dinner over, Anabella asked to be excused to call a girlfriend in the city. Dante let her leave, and yet when Daisy asked to be excused, he refused.

“We haven’t had coffee yet,” he answered. “It’s a nice evening, too. Let’s sit outside, where it’s cool.”

Daisy didn’t want to follow him, didn’t want to go anywhere near him, but didn’t have a choice.

He took a seat on a wood bench outside, a two-seater with no other chairs nearby.

The maid appeared with a tray. She placed the tray on the bench next to Dante. Silently she poured the coffee before bowing her head and leaving.

Dante held a cup to Daisy. “Yours.”

She started to refuse the cup, not because coffee didn’t sound good but because she didn’t feel comfortable risking contact. Yet the moment she realized her fear, she was determined to conquer it.

Daisy took the cup quickly, avoiding touching any part of him, and retreated to another bench.

He took a sip of his coffee and watched her sit down before leaning forward, powerful thighs straining his trousers. “Daisy, you’re not as tough as you like to think.”

His voice in the darkness sounded like honey, sweet rich, impossibly smooth. He’d snare her and she’d be trapped, stuck, caught in silken threads. Like the spider and the fly.

She hated the wildness of her heart. “What time do you leave tomorrow?”

She felt his smile. “Sometime in the morning, after I get you squared away with Señor Gutierrez. I’ll be taking Anabella with me.”

“She doesn’t like it here much, does she?”

“She likes social activity. There’s not much of that here.” He hesitated, and the silence stretched between them. Finally, “You’ll be all right here on your own?”

Was that what he was worried about? “I’ll be fine. Unlike your sister, I’m not a city person. I prefer working and I like being out of doors.”

“Your sister mentioned just before we left that you’d been to medical school.”

“Veterinary medicine, yes.”

“But you had to drop out?”

She shrugged, pretending an indifference she didn’t feel. “I was needed at home.”

“Maybe you’ll be able to resume your studies after things settle down.”

Things settle down? Did he mean after her father died?

She suddenly felt very tired, the long trip catching up with her. “It’s late. I should go to bed, especially if I’m going to get up early to meet Señor Gutierrez.”

He must have heard the fatigue in her voice and the way it cracked a little. Dante also rose. “Second thought, sleep in tomorrow. There’s really no reason I can’t postpone my trip by a few hours and introduce you to him over lunch. You need the rest.”

“I don’t need the rest. I need to learn. Remember? So, I’ll set my alarm and be ready by six.”

“No one is awake here at six, Daisy. This is Argentina.”

“I’m willing to bet that Señor Gutierrez is awake at six.”

“Yes, but—”

“Fine. I’ll be up, too.” She set her cup and saucer on the cart. “Good night, Dante.”

“Good night, Daisy.”

She was up early. Daisy dressed in her still-dark room and, aided with directions from a sleepy housemaid, found the stables just as the sun broke on the horizon. Inside the stables a half dozen ranch hands were already busy at work.

Daisy immediately liked Señor Gutierrez. He was an older man, wiry, strong and grizzled from a lifetime in the sun. The morning passed quickly, and at noon Daisy returned to the house for lunch. But on reaching the house she discovered it empty. Dante and Anabella had already gone.

There weren’t really words, she thought, for the emptiness she felt on learning that Dante had left on time after all, and without saying goodbye. She felt utterly flattened. Not to mention rejected.

It wasn’t that she expected a big emotional farewell, but some kind of goodbye would have been nice.

Face it, she told herself, standing on the veranda and facing the stables and protective ring of trees, you wanted to see him this morning. You were counting on seeing him this morning.

It was true. All morning as she’d followed Señor Gutierrez around the stables she’d felt a bubble of excitement, a bubble she’d tried to suppress, but it had been there and she’d felt happy thinking she’d see Dante soon.

Now he was gone, and she had no idea when he’d be back.

The afternoon passed much more slowly, and Daisy was relieved when Señor Gutierrez sent her back to the house. Daisy had a solitary dinner before retiring to her room. It wasn’t even nine when she turned out her light but she was tired and a little blue, and sleep offered a respite from thoughts of Dante.

A doorbell was ringing somewhere far away. Daisy was dreaming about Collingsworth Farm and didn’t want to leave the dream behind. She pressed her pillow over her head, trying to block the doorbell, but it just rang and rang and finally she realized it wasn’t the door, but the phone on her nightstand.

Rolling over, she lifted the receiver. “Hola,” she whispered groggily.

“Did I wake you, Daisy?”

Dante. She propped herself on her elbows. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. I didn’t know you’d be in bed already or I would have waited for the morning.”

“I was tired.”

“I can call back—”

“No!” she interrupted, and then closed her eyes when she heard him laugh softly. He knew how she felt. Even if she pretended indifference, he knew better.

“I’m sorry about leaving so abruptly this morning. I made my meeting in Buenos Aires and then Anabella was being difficult. I meant to call earlier but the day got away from me.”

“These things happen.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m not hurt. I don’t care—”

“You don’t fool me with this ‘I don’t care’ routine. You do care, Daisy. I care, too.”

She pressed her forehead against her palm, squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for patience. “Let’s not talk about this again. We’re not getting anywhere and it just makes me crazy.”

She heard him draw a slow breath.

“I think I’d like to see Daisy lose control,” he said after a lengthy pause. “I think it would be incredible.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. We might just have to wait until you’ve returned to Kentucky, but it will happen. I promise you.”