Читать книгу The Italian Single Dad - Jennie Adams - Страница 9

‘YOU seem to be making a positive impression on the guests.’ Since the start of the evening, Luc had kept Bella tucked against his side. He did it to watch her, to make sure she made every effort to attract interest in her gowns. But she attracted his interest, too.

What was it about Arabella Gable that held him despite their past, despite their current situation? He had plenty of reasons to steer clear of her, yet he couldn’t put her out of his thoughts, couldn’t deny his awareness of her.

You sought her out, forced her into this.

He ignored the thought. Arabella had played his aunt an unfair hand and she had to pay the cost of her actions. That was all. Even so, she roused his curiosity. What about her parents, for example? She must have had a falling-out with them or something. ‘For your sake I hope that impression leads to gown sales in the near future.’

‘I hope for that, too.’ Her eyes caught the colour of her dress. The hint of dark blue in the brown depths lent her an air of mystery. The sparks of irritation were clear. ‘As I said, I’m all for parting company with you as soon as possible, Luchino.’

‘But you can’t part company with me just yet, because you need me to help you gain entrée to functions like this one.’ He watched frustration fill her and threaten to bubble over. Something deep within him wanted her to lose her control, to fly at him, let all her feelings loose.

Dinner was announced, Bella dropped her gaze and Luc reluctantly turned his attention to finding their places at the long oval table. Sparring with her stimulated him, as did her nearness. He shouldn’t allow those reactions.

At the dinner table Bella talked, schmoozed, shone like a bright light, all of it directed away from Luc, but he felt each word she spoke, each dazzling smile she directed anywhere but at him.

If he kissed her, tasted her lips, would this curious interest in her, this humming awareness, be satisfied and disappear?

When the butler lit hundreds of candles in the shimmering ballroom and an orchestral trio began to play, Luc guided her into the room with his mind on those questions. Maybe a dance would give him his answer.

‘Let’s dance. An attractive woman in a beautiful gown, moving to the music—what could appeal more?’ He drew her onto the dance floor, enjoyed the flare of startled awareness that rose in her eyes. ‘Can you sell your name and your merchandise this way, Arabella?’

‘I can do whatever I have to.’ The strains of a waltz began. Strain coloured her words, too, but she took up his challenge.

He swept her into the dance. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony. She fitted as though she belonged in his arms and, while awareness began a slow burn along his nerve-endings, he hadn’t anticipated the sense of rightness that came from holding her this way.

Bella was silent, but soft colour flushed her cheeks, and her eyes shone.

Other couples glided around the floor but Luc only saw Bella, and he sensed she only saw him.

His grip tightened, he swung Bella into a turn and kept her close, allowed the dance to become something more because right at this moment the dance had her. Luc had her, he knew it, and acknowledged the surge of power and demand that came with that understanding. He wanted to take her to bed, to spend the night in physical passion with her.

‘This dance is finished. The evening is finished.’ He stopped, clasped her hand in his and tugged her across the floor. The final strains of the music coincided.

To an onlooker, they simply left the floor at the zenith of the dance, a fitting end to a perfect performance, but they both knew otherwise.

‘Luc?’ Bella moved along at his side. She tried to pull her fingers from his grip. ‘Wh-what are you doing? I could dance with some other people, mingle—’

‘Not tonight.’ He maintained his clasp on her hand. ‘You and I have unfinished business that needs to be laid to rest once and for all.’

It almost sounded rational, but for the fact that he dragged her straight past their hostess and out into the hall, where the butler appeared and handed Bella her wrap. Their host also appeared.

That should have steadied Luc, even if only a little. Instead he waited impatiently while the other man said his goodbyes. When the guy took Bella’s hand and kissed it, Luc stepped forward. A silent warning growled low in his being.

‘Yes, well, good evening and thank you for attending.’ The man stepped back, away from Arabella, away from Luc’s glare that insisted he do so.

Luc muttered something that might or might not have been appropriate in response, and finally they were free of the place. They started down the long driveway, side by side, his hand at Bella’s back to guide her.

Cool night air brushed against Luc’s face, neck, hands. He felt only the burn of desire.

‘Luc?’ Her gaze sought his, searched. ‘I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but I really don’t feel we can go on—’