Читать книгу His Sweet Revenge - Люси Монро, Katherine Garbera, Люси Монро - Страница 10

THE phone was ringing when Tara walked through the door of her apartment at twenty-five minutes after five. She sprinted across the small foyer and picked it up from the hall stand. “Hello?”

“Hey, hon…just wanted to make sure you’re not going to dress like a bag lady now that the big boss is coming.”

Danette.

“Sheesh…you called me to bug me about what I’m going to wear to your casual barbecue? Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Right…it’s casual and that means shorts and a T-shirt. Don’t you dare show up in one of your casual-but-really-they-are-for-work-outfits.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “What difference does it make?”

“Well, now that’s an interesting question. It shouldn’t make any difference…to you. I mean, if you’re really not interested in the boss, then you shouldn’t be bothered exposing a little flesh around him.”

The idea of being around Angelo and wearing a pair of hip-hugging shorts and T-shirt that showed a glimpse of her stomach when she raised her arms made Tara’s body flush with heat…and not from embarrassment.

“Come on,” Danette added, “it’s over eighty degrees outside. Be practical.”

“I won’t show up in a skirt and hose!”

“You’d better not and don’t forget your swimsuit.” Danette had sole use of the pool area at her condo complex to host her barbecue.

Tara loved the water, but if wearing shorts around Angelo made her jumpy, how would she deal with a swimsuit? “I’m not going to be swimming.”

“Oh, please…did I mention it’s eighty-some degrees out there? Of course if you get too hot and want to cool off, I could lend you one of mine.”

Remembering her friend’s penchant for string bikinis that showed more flesh than some bandages, Tara made a note to grab her own suit.

Just in case.

Angelo rang Tara’s doorbell with more anticipation than he’d felt for a date in years.

Tara Peters was every bit as beautiful as her photos had shown, but she was also a very intriguing woman. He had no difficulty understanding Randall’s fascination with her.

Angelo wanted her, too, which made this aspect of his revenge against the other man sweet indeed.

The door to her modest brownstone swung open and his breath suspended in his chest, all thought ceasing in a wave of shrieking male hunger that had him wanting to push her back into the apartment and claim her body as his own.

Denim shorts clung to her curves, stopping high enough on her thigh to make her well-toned, honey tanned legs look miles long. Her lemon-yellow T-shirt did some clinging of its own, revealing the fact her bra was so flimsy he could see her nipples peaking through the soft cotton.

Tara’s arms came up and crossed over her breasts in a protective gesture that brought home to him the fact he’d been staring at her like a crass teenager watching a striptease.

Angelo’s gaze traveled up to her face. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Still wearing no makeup. “You look about eighteen.”

A damn sexy eighteen and he was glad he knew she was twenty-four or he would feel like a lecher with the thoughts going through his mind.

“And you don’t look like a corporate magnate,” she said smartly.

He leaned against the doorjamb, interested in the way she backed up a step as if his closeness bothered her. “Are you saying my business suits are all that stand between me and mediocrity?”

She laughed abruptly and shook her head. “You could never be an average guy. And I hate to tell you this, but most of the men at the barbecue are not going to be wearing Armani T-shirts and Ralph Lauren shorts.”

His brows rose.

She grinned at him. “I used to be a fashion model. Identifying designers is my stock in trade. I can tell a knockoff designer bag a mile off.”

“I’m not similarly gifted.”

Her look said she doubted his words and he almost smiled. Men in his world often knew a great deal about women’s fashion for the expedient reason that it made it easier to buy gifts a certain type of female would truly appreciate.

That sort of woman had never appealed to him.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

She nodded, grabbing her tote bag from the floor beside the door.

She waited for him to back up, but he merely shifted his body slightly so she could get by him. Tara gingerly stepped around him, as if afraid to touch him, but equally determined not to show it. He inhaled her scent, letting it tease his senses, before stepping back so she could shut the door.

Angelo’s position forced her to stand mere inches from his body as she locked up. Then he led her outside to his car, where he took pains to invade her personal space buckling her in and adjusting her seatbelt. She was breathing in shallow pants, her eyes vague with suppressed desire by the time he straightened and shut her door. Good.

She wanted him and it wouldn’t be long before he would have her—despite her aversion to wealthy tycoons.

The thought brought him harsh satisfaction. His revenge against the man who used and discarded people like trash was close at hand. However, unlike Baron Randall, once Angelo had Tara, he wasn’t sure he’d let her go.

And that might be the best revenge of all.

“How many pictures do you need for your scrapbook?” Tara demanded of Danette as the woman’s annoying boyfriend snapped yet another shot.

Angelo didn’t like Ray’s preoccupation with Tara, either, and was on the verge of making his displeasure known in a very basic way.

Danette shrugged her slim shoulders. “You can never have too many. And you’ve got to admit, even without makeup, you’re awfully photogenic.”

About that, Angelo had to agree.

But Tara grimaced. “I think I’m going to rue the day you took up your new scrapbook hobby.”

“Hey, we aren’t all so focused on work that we don’t have outside interests.”

“I have outside interests.”

“Name one.”

“I volunteer at the Boys and Girls club once a week.”

That hadn’t been in her file, Angelo took a mental note.

Danette snorted delicately. “Right, but you’re doing almost the same thing at the club as you do at Primo Tech.”

“Hardly.”

“You manage staff resources. How is that different?”

“The staff is made up of volunteers.”

Even Angelo could tell Tara was stretching the truth and it made him smile. For a woman dedicated to work-life effectiveness, she was lousy at practicing what she preached. “So, you volunteer at the Boys and Girls club, but you don’t connect with the kids?” he asked.

She turned to face him, her expression mirroring her surprise and some embarrassment. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

He handed her a cranberry spritzer over ice. “Your drink, as promised.”

He’d been taking care of her in small ways like this one since they arrived at the barbecue and she didn’t seem to know how to take it. Apparently other men in her life had not pampered her. However, he was intelligent enough to know that pampering and seduction went hand in hand.

She smiled, her rich chocolate eyes warm. “Thank you.”

The snick of another picture came from her left and she jerked her head around. “Do you mind?”

Ray had the sense to look abashed. “Sorry. Photography is a fairly new hobby for me.”

Tara sighed expressively. “You and Danette and your hobbies. Give it a rest, would you?”

“Sure.”

Angelo gave the man a steely look that had sent more than one boardroom discussion going in the direction he wanted it to. “I wouldn’t mind getting copies of some of the photos. Would that be possible?”

“You want pictures of the barbecue?” Tara asked, her voice pitched high in surprise.

“Not really, but there are one or two guests I wouldn’t mind having a photo of.” He gave Tara a significant look.

“If you want a picture of me, I’ve got an entire portfolio full I’m not using anymore.” She said it like a joke, but he didn’t smile.

“I’d love to see them. Maybe you can get the portfolio out when we get back to your place.”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“If you can get her to show it to you, you’ll be getting further than most of us. For a former top model, she sure is shy,” Ray said, sounding put out.

Danette smacked him in the arm, her eyes filled with teasing laughter. “Hey, you are supposed be interested in seeing my baby photos, not my best friend’s modeling shots.”

Ray grinned and shrugged.

Angelo frowned at him and the grin swiftly disappeared.

“Are you going to swim?” Danette asked Angelo, going for a swift change of subject, apparently realizing he wasn’t as amused by her boyfriend’s interest in Tara as she was.

The prospect of seeing Tara in a swimsuit sent his libido into overdrive. He met her wary brown gaze as he answered Danette. “I’d like to.”

“Good.” She grinned at Tara. “How about you?”

“I don’t think I will this time.”

“Oh, come on.” Danette waved her hand in front of her face like a fan. “It’s hot and I know you brought your suit.”

“If you don’t want to swim, we won’t,” he said making it clear he considered them a couple at this party and had no intention of participating in activities that didn’t include them both.

If anything, her expression turned more wary. “You don’t have to refrain from swimming because I am.”

“It’s not a problem.”

She gave the sparkling water a look of longing and he moved closer, until he could touch her shoulder.

Her head snapped up and their eyes locked.

“Are you sure you don’t want to swim?”

“I…”

“What are you afraid of, Tara?”

She licked her lips and let out a short sigh before averting her gaze. “You.”

He hadn’t expected her honesty. “I promise not to dunk you.”

“That’s not what worries me and I think you know it.” Tara spoke in a low voice so Danette and Ray, who were now arguing over when to start grilling the steaks, could not hear.

“A life worth living requires taking a few risks.” Somehow, he was even closer than a moment ago.

“I’ve taken my share.”

“Not with me.”

“And you want me to believe you’re different?”

“I am.”

Tara’s heart contracted at those two simple words. In a way, he’d already proven that. Other men would have tried to dismiss her reluctance to go swimming as trivial. Angelo saw the decision for what it was, an opportunity to either keep shutting him out or to let him one step closer to the private Tara Peters.

It represented a willingness to socialize with him, not only as a couple, but also in a situation that left her vulnerable. Few women looked their best with their hair hanging down their back in a wet rattail. And no woman put on a swimsuit in front of a man she was hugely attracted to without taking a risk.

Maybe after two years, taking this one small risk wouldn’t be so bad. She might be inviting Angelo closer, but she wasn’t going to bed with him. She wasn’t offering to have his babies or buy his staff presents at Christmas.

“I’ll swim.”

He nodded, his expression every bit as serious as hers. “Okay.”

Tara hadn’t bothered with a wrap because her suit was pretty conservative, but as she walked toward Angelo, who watched her with blatant male appreciation, she wished she had. The navy-blue shorts and halter style suit covered almost as much as her clothes had, but it clung to her curves like a second skin and it was pretty obvious her sexy boss liked the view.

When she came within reach, he casually reached out and placed his hand on the bare flesh between her shoulder blades. “Nice suit.”

Her breath caught and it took effort to force out a response. “Thanks. It’s one of my favorites.”

He guided her toward the poolside. “The body beneath it is fantastic.”

She stiffened under his hand, the comment catching her off guard.

He gently increased the pressure and kept walking. “Don’t tell me you aren’t aware of how incredible your figure is. You’ve been a model for years.”

“Was a model.”

“Semantics shouldn’t change your awareness of your own beauty.”

“Beauty doesn’t mean much in the scheme of life.” And in her opinion, it often got in the way.

“Coupled with brains and a passionate nature, it’s a pretty potent package.”

Was he implying he saw her that way? “Few men care about what’s under the surface.”

“I’m unique.”

“I get that you’d like me to believe that.”

He didn’t stop beside the pool, but kept walking, until he led her through a glass door into the building that housed half of the huge swimming pool. The condo complex was not only exclusive, its luxury amenities were without equal in the area. Residents could swim in whatever weather the Oregon skies chose to offer.

Danette had told Tara that was one of her favorite things about her new home.

Since the day was hot and sunny, no one else was availing themselves of the covered portion of the pool however. The illusion of total privacy heightened Tara’s awareness of Angelo in a way she wished it didn’t.

He paused on the edge of the empty water and looked down at her. The intensity of his gaze burned away her awareness of the sounds coming from the party outside. “You’re not very trusting are you?”

“If I was after the way I grew up and what I went through with Baron, I’d be an idiot.”

“You’re far from stupid, but you’re also blind.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he pressed his finger against her lips and she had to fight the urge to suck it into her mouth and taste his skin. “You can’t see beyond your past. I am not from your past. I am right here, right now and I want you to see me.”

She reached up and grabbed his wrist, the simple connection feeling too good, too right for comfort. She tugged his hand away, but kept her hold on his wrist and his fingers somehow went from pressing against her lips to cupping her cheek.

Her eyes locked with his. “I can’t see anything else.”

“Good.” He leant down until his lips hovered just above hers. “That’s the way it should be.”

“You’re awfully arrogant at times.”

“I would bore you to death if I were any other way.”

Was he right? Did she crave the same kind of man her mother had always been attracted to? Somewhere deep down inside she’d always known she did, which was why she’d shied away from men in general. She hadn’t trusted her own judgment.

Could she now?

“I’m going to kiss you.”

He waited, watching her with searing patience. He was giving her plenty of time to pull away, but right now that was beyond her. She wanted him, wanted his kiss. She needed to know if the feelings inside her were a figment of her imagination, or if connecting to this man would truly be as soul-altering as her senses were telling her it would be.

Then he kissed her.

Carefully.

Slowly.

Thoroughly.

He didn’t demand, didn’t push for more. However, he still managed to take gentle possession of her mouth, imprinting his taste and the very essence of himself on her consciousness.

The almost soothing press of his lips against hers was not in the least aggressive and yet she felt completely, utterly claimed.

The expression in his eyes when he lifted his head said that as far as he was concerned, she had been.

“Are you ready to go swimming?”

The kiss had been so profound that the mundane question did not at first register. When it did, it also reminded her that they were not really alone.

For a woman who hated having her personal life in the spotlight, she’d certainly given the other partygoers an eyeful.

However, on closer inspection, she realized that at the place they were standing inside the building, hardly anyone could see them even though the door that led outside was made of clear glass. Ray with his annoying camera, seemed to be the only one even looking, the expression in his eyes smug.

Obviously he’d gotten a shot of the kiss. She wondered if that picture was going to make it into Danette’s scrapbook. Considering her friend’s sense of humor, it probably would.

The pool looked more inviting than ever. “Yes. I’m definitely ready to get cooled off.”

She realized the implication of her words as soon as Angelo’s low chuckle reached her ears. Annoying heat surged into her cheeks. She’d blushed more around this man than she had since taking her first modeling contract more than ten years ago as a gangly adolescent.

“Then shall we go?” Angelo asked, tugging her toward the deep part near where it flowed to the outside, obviously intending to jump in.

She pulled back. “I’d rather enter at the shallow end.”

He turned to look at her, his expression indecipherable. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I guess I’m the cautious sort, but I like to get used to the water a bit at a time.”

“That’s torturous.”

He was right, but she’d never been able to force herself just to jump into cold water.

Something shifted in his penetrating blue gaze.

That was all the warning she got before Angelo swept her up in his arms and tossed her in the pool.

Cold water shocked her system. She sank toward the bottom, legs and arms flailing. Tucking her legs in, she executed a neat roll and shot toward the surface. It wasn’t far, the pool was only six feet deep to begin with. She came to the surface gasping for air and ready to take an inch off his hide.

Impatiently brushing the water from her eyes, she looked around, treading water and ready to yell at him, but he wasn’t poolside anymore.

A sudden shower of cold droplets from behind her had her spinning around in the water. He was there, so darn tall, he could touch bottom and still keep most of his face above the water. He moved to her right, ending up not a foot from her in more shallow water. His expression was so relaxed and mischievous she couldn’t begin to hold on to her anger.

She didn’t think Angelo Gordon looked mischievous very often. Something spasmed in her heart that she was the one to bring out this side of him.

She sent a cascade of water directed at his head with the sweep of her hand. “You fiend.” But her heart wasn’t in it and the words came out sounding a lot more teasing than accusatory.

He grinned, not bothering to wipe the water from his face. “Feels good doesn’t it?”

“It would have felt better if I’d been able to get used to it before being dunked.”

He shook his head. “You would have wasted time playing in the shallows, torturing yourself with every small foray deeper into the pool.”

“The shallows aren’t always a waste of time.”

“They are when diving into the deep end is so rewarding.”

Neither of them was talking about swimming and from the seriousness of his expression now, they both knew it.

“I dove in once before and learned to rue my impetuousness.”

“Which doesn’t mean you should never go diving again.”

“I almost drowned the last time.”

He shook his head. “Not you. You got the breath knocked out of you, but you’re fighting fit again.”

He was right. Baron had hurt her, but her nature didn’t allow for wallowing in misery. She’d picked up and moved on, in every way but her willingness to risk her heart again.

Angelo tapped her nose. “You’re enjoying the water now, admit it.”

“Yes, I am.” What had felt frigidly cold against skin heated by the sun now felt refreshing.

“Diving into deep waters can be terrifying or rewarding depending on who you do your diving with and what kind of water he leads you into.”

Oh, gosh. She didn’t know if she could handle this. He’d been challenging her to see him as a unique individual since the moment they met, but this was more. This was a direct attack on the way she’d been handling relationships for two years.

Or rather avoiding them.

“What kind would I find myself in with you?” she couldn’t help asking.

Strong fingers curled around her waist under the water and she found herself being pulled against him. “The kind that will leave you sated with pleasure.”

“I’ve been sated before, but that didn’t make up for the hurt that came later.”

“No one can guarantee the future, bella mia, but the present is here for us to enjoy.”

There was something extremely intimate about being called an endearment in his mother’s native language. It made her feel special to him. Only that was probably wishful thinking. No doubt, he slipped into Italian with every woman he wanted to bed. It was sexy.

The cynical thoughts made her angry. Was she going to spend the rest of her life thinking the worst of every man who came into it? That made her a victim of her past, not victorious over it and Angelo had been right. She was a strong woman, too strong to let her past control her.

“Yes, the present is here for us to enjoy.”

When his lips covered hers this time, there was no hesitation, no gentle persuasion. It was all raw passion and masculine claim-staking, a sensual demand that she acknowledge his ability and right to give her pleasure.

And she gave it to him through a mouth that willingly molded to his.

Lips cool from the water soon heated against hers and his tongue pressed against her mouth, this time demanding entrance. With a groan of needs long denied, she opened to him. Unlike Baron’s carefully orchestrated seductions, Angelo took her mouth like a conquering marauder. Imprinting himself on every millimeter of the interior, he devastated her lips with a carnality that left her weak.

He lifted her more firmly against him, his reaction to their kiss pressing blatantly against her thighs.

Her breasts ached and swelled in the confines of her halter top, while her most secret flesh grew hot and wetter than the water surrounding them. She laid her hands against the sculpted muscles of his chest, her fingers delighting in the sensation of wet, slick skin covered by curling black hair. The kiss deepened into territory she’d never explored and she dug her nails into his pecs. He groaned against her lips.

A shower of water broke them apart, the sound of laughter around them grating on nerves sensitized by his lovemaking. And it had been lovemaking even if he hadn’t done any more than kiss her. Some of the other partygoers had swum through the low arched partition to the outside and were engaging in a game of tag.

Incapable of the coordination it took to tread water, Tara took advantage of her proximity to the edge to grab it with both hands. She hung there while her body struggled for breath and she tried to regain control over her emotions.

“Do you want me to apologize?” He spoke very close to her ear.

She shook her head, not looking at him. “I was with you all the way.”

“I didn’t mean to lose control, stellina. Public displays of affection are not my thing. The thought of embarrassing a lover leaves me cold.”

But then neither of them had expected the other guests in the pool to follow them inside.

“Stellina?” she asked, not ready to dwell on the implication of her own loss of control or his insinuation she was his lover.

His lips quirked. “Little star.”

Thinking of her five-foot-nine stature, she shook her head. “Hardly that.”

“It fits you.”

“Maybe to a giant like you, but the rest of the world sees me as rather tall.”

“How the rest of the world sees you is unimportant to me.”

“Your arrogance is showing again.”

“And we both know how you feel about that.”

She turned away from the heat in his gaze. “I think your Sicilian blood is showing.”

“Maybe a little, but don’t chalk that kiss up to my Latin temperament.”

“You want me to believe I’m wholly responsible for your passion? Isn’t that giving me an awful lot of potential power?”

“Why should I attempt to hide what must be obvious?”

This was getting stranger by the second. Baron had always been careful to minimize the effect she had on him, or at least her impression of it. He had played control games, wanting her to believe the greater need was on her side. He’d spouted platitudes about love while withholding the security of knowing she impacted him with the same potency he did her.

Either Angelo was way more sensitive than Baron Randall or he was more confident. The latter was far more likely.

She turned her head and gave him a sideways look. “You’re a unique man, Angelo Gordon.”

“I’m glad you can see that.” He waited a beat. “Finally.”

No, no lack of confidence there.

A feminine hand landed on Angelo’s shoulder. “You’re it.” The buxom brunette swam away at speed, her string bikini leaving nothing to the imagination.

To Tara’s shock, Angelo joined in the game of water tag with enthusiasm and showed that he played shark in the water every bit as well as he did the boardroom.