'Yes, I did, but what are you doing here? Didn't you get my note?' she managed to ask with a quizzical arch of one delicate brow, in an acting performance that would have done credit to a Hollywood movie star. . .
'Note? What note? What the hell are you talking about?' he growled. 'And why am I having this conversation in the street?'
Beth was wondering the same; if she didn't sit down she would fall down, or worse, fall into his arms. His hands kneading her shoulders were playing havoc with her nerve-endings, and even though she knew he was a manipulative devil it didn't alter the fact that he was wickedly attractive.
'For God's sake, give me your key and let's get inside. This is not how I envisaged our reunion at all. I thought I told you to wait for me.'
His comment reminded her of his arrogant assumption to his friend—'This particular girl won't mind waiting'—and that was enough to stiffen her resolve.
'If you let go of me, I will,' she snapped. His hands fell from her shoulders, and she stepped back and silently withdrew the key from her purse and handed it to him.
He glanced down into her cool face. 'You look. . .' He stopped, his gaze piercingly intent. 'Never mind, it'll keep.' And he urged her inside the building and into her apartment without saying another word.
Beth could feel the tension simmering in the air between them, and when Dex's arm reached across her she shrank back, afraid he was going to grab her again.
Instead, with a sardonic arch of one dark brow, he drawled, 'Excuse me—unless you prefer the dark,' and switched on the light, slamming the door behind them.
Trying to behave naturally, when Beth's basic instinct was to turn on him like a howling banshee, took every ounce of self-control she possessed, but she succeeded. She walked into the centre of the room and, taking a deep breath, slowly turned to face him.
'Coffee, tea, something stronger?' she suggested, forcing a polite smile to her stiff lips. Dex was leaning against the closed door, his dark blue suit jacket hanging open, his tie pulled loose and the top few buttons of his silk shirt unbuttoned. He looked dishevelled and absolutely furious.
'I do not want a drink.' He straightened up and moved towards her, stopping only inches away. 'I want some answers, cara—my sweet fiancée.' He glared down at her and there was nothing in the least sweet about his expression.
'Well, I want a drink,' she said calmly, turning towards the kitchen door. 'Take a seat. I won't be long.'
'Oh, no, you don't!' A strong masculine hand encircled her upper arm, and suddenly she was spun back round to face him.
Her green eyes clashed with his, and something sinister flickered in the depths of his grey eyes that made her shiver with alarm. 'Please, let go of me,' she told him, trying to ignore the way her heart was thudding as he stood so close to her.
'I would never intentionally hurt you, Beth,' Dex declared silkily, and with slow deliberation he released her arm and slid his hands up to her shoulders, impelling her forward. 'Never,' he reiterated throatily.
His black head bent towards her and dumbly she watched, knowing he was going to kiss her, and unable to move. Then his mouth took hers in a forceful, demanding kiss. Beth clenched her teeth against his intended invasion. A silent moan of rejection rose and died in her throat beneath the relentless pressure of his mouth. His hands slid down her back and effortlessly brought her even closer against his masculine frame. Try as she might to remain cold and unresponsive in his arms, there was nothing she could do to prevent her wayward body melting against his hard length.
A soundless gasp escaped her lips, and, taking full advantage, his tongue sought the moist interior of her mouth with a coaxing, seductive sensuality that made her mind spin. Her eyes closed as he easily overcame her futile attempt to resist, and helplessly she kissed him back.
When Dex finally released her, she swayed and almost fell, but with a husky oath he curved a long arm around her waist and firm fingers lifted her chin.
'I should have kissed you first,' he opined, with a hint of arrogance in his smile, 'instead of shouting at you. I am sure you have a simple explanation. Forgive me.'
His grey-eyed gaze had changed from menacing anger to smug complacency at her submission, Beth noted bitterly. Forgive him! She wanted to kill him, and, swiftly lowering her lashes to hide the anger and humiliation she knew he would see in their depths, she began her well-rehearsed speech.
'No, Dex, it is you who has to forgive me.' Turning her head to dislodge his fingers, she twisted out of his arm, not at all sure her trembling legs would support her. She sat down in the one comfortable chair, her head bowed, her hands curled tensely over its arms, and added, 'I left a note with your secretary at the casino, telling you I had to visit a sick friend in hospital.'
Beth had thought it out carefully. Judging by the temporary secretary's outburst in Beth's hearing, it was highly unlikely the woman would ever return to work at the Seymour, so Beth felt reasonably safe with the he. The timing was wrong, she had left long after the secretary, but no one had seen her leave, and she was banking on the great Dexter Giordanni not bothering to enquire. Why should he? He didn't give a damn about her.
For a long moment there was silence, and Beth could sense the force of his gaze upon her downbent head. It took all her self-control to lift her head and look at him.
'I didn't receive a note, but then I didn't see the secretary leave,' he said, his puzzled gaze holding hers.
'There you are, then. . .a simple mistake. Let's forget it.' And in an abrupt change of subject she went on, 'So tell me, did your sister have a nice birthday party? You never said.' Beth couldn't resist asking, hoping just once to dent his insufferable self-assurance. Cynically she watched as his grey gaze roamed over her and rested where her hands lay curled on the edges of the armchair.
'Yes, I don't see her very often, so it was a nice change.' He frowned and continued, 'A pity you could not come with me.'
Liar, she thought scathingly. He had never asked her. Probably too worried that Paul Morris would be there, and Beth would spoil his sister's chance with the man. His careful avoidance of her gaze only reaffirmed what she already knew.
But suddenly his head jerked back and his eyes narrowed intently on her face, a flash of some unidentifiable emotion flickering in their icy depths; then they became hard and implacable, his massive body unnaturally still.
'Forget the small-talk, Beth. You haven't visited any sick friend; you're lying, and I want the truth,' he warned inflexibly. 'And it had better be good. I am not known for my patience, and you are testing it to the limit.'
The temptation to tell him precisely what he could do with himself and his patience was almost impossible to ignore. But pride and common sense raised their logical heads just in time.
'Yes, I did. Mary from work,' she responded flatly, lying through her teeth and praying Mary would forgive her. 'Appendicitis,' she tacked on for good measure.
'Really?' Dex drawled, his tone telling her he didn't believe a word she said. 'Nice outfit. Chanel, isn't it? It suits you. Your friend must have been flattered.'
'Yes,' Beth said shortly, cursing her own foolishness yesterday, which had seen her spending her lunchbreak shopping in the designer section of London's most stylish fashion store. She had spent all her savings, and her next month's salary, on the elegant red suit and complementary camisole, plus ruinously expensive undergarments, all for Dexter's benefit.
'Surely a bit over the top for visiting a sick friend,' Dex commented derisively. 'Nor, to my knowledge, do hospitals extend their visiting hours until this time of night. What kind of fool do you take me for?'
She glanced up. His tanned, perfectly carved features were set in a cold mask, only the nerve twitching in the side of his face revealing his inner tension.
'I don't know what you mean,' she mumbled. Her courage had deserted her, and she couldn't control the nervous leaping of her pulse, or the shiver of fear that trickled down her spine as her eyes met his.
Suddenly, like a dam bursting, 'Basta!' Dex roared. 'Enough of your lies!' His hands crashed down on her shoulders, the long fingers biting into her skin as he hauled her to her feet, fury evident in every Une of his hard body.
'Now,' he snarled, 'you are going to tell me the truth.' His long fingers fell to her jacket and flicked it open, revealing the lace edged body-hugging camisole and the obvious absence of a bra.
She flushed scarlet. 'What do you think you're doing?' she snapped, but Dex ignored her, and in one lithe movement he slipped the jacket from her shoulders to drop it carelessly on the floor.
His glittering eyes raked over her, from her flushed face, then lower, to the soft fullness of her breasts. To her horror, she felt her nipples harden beneath his studied appraisal. With chilling slowness his glance lingered on her chest, her throat, and finally back on her face. He smiled and her blood ran cold.
'Very nice, but you are not the type to dress so for another woman.' His hand snaked around her slender wrist and hauled her hand up between their two bodies, holding it pressed tight against her breastbone.
'And I seem to remember giving you a diamond ring, cara mia. Lost it, have you?' His mouth twisted in a chilling, cynical smile. 'Or found someone wealthier? Someone who excites you more?'
Beth swallowed hard, remembering some of their more intimate moments together, and glanced bitterly up at him. Surely he knew? He was the only man who had ever aroused her to any great degree. How dared he insinuate she was a money-grubbing, flighty girl—she who had never known a man? For a moment Beth was too angry with him to form a reply. When she did open her mouth to speak, she discovered she had waited too long.
'Your silence is answer enough. Are you going to tell me who he is?' he demanded in a threatening voice. 'Or do I have to get it out of you?'
His other hand tightened imperceptibly in her hair, and she moved her head back and stared at him. But the fury in his eyes, she realised, was more bruised ego than any genuine concern for her. He had jumped to the conclusion there was another man, whom he probably thought was her godfather, so why not humour him? Grasping the chance Dex had given her, she boldly held his glittering gaze.
'All right, all right. I will tell you the truth.' She gritted her mouth tight with bitterness as she prepared to compound her lie. To make Dex walk away from her. It was what she wanted. But as Dex towered over her— the heat of his body, the subtle scent of him enveloping her—it was the hardest thing she had ever had to do in her life.
'You're right, in a way. I'm sorry, Dex. I didn't know how to tell you.' When it came down to it, she didn't dare mention Paul Morris. For all she knew, Dex might have seen him in Italy. Instead, she rattled on like a steam train.
'I realised almost as soon as you left: you're not really my type, we belong to two different worlds. I like living in London, I love my work and I like going out with my own circle of friends. Some more than others.' She forced herself to smile into his eyes, subtly implying there were other men in her life, without naming any names. 'You and I had a brief fling. It was fun, but now it's over.'
His face darkened. His mouth tightened into an angry line and a dull flush spread over his high cheekbones. His fingers tightened on her wrist and she lowered her thick lashes to hide her lying eyes from his narrowed, too intent gaze. Then suddenly she was released and fell back into the armchair, all the breath expelled from her lungs by the force of her fall. When she finally found the courage to raise her head and look at Dex again, she knew she had succeeded in her plan.
He had gone very pale. His silver eyes, burning with contemptuous fire, clashed with her wary green. He shook his dark head. 'You're just like all the rest, a lying, cheating, little bitch,' he drawled deliberately, watching her for a moment. Then, turning, he headed for the door.
How dared he call her names? How dared he pretend he was the one betrayed, when it was Beth who had been made a complete and utter fool of? He had even gone so far as to give her a ring. The ring! she thought, eyeing his broad back with impotent fury, and, grabbing her purse from the floor, she opened it. Her fingers finding the offending piece of jewellery, she stood up.
'Dex, wait!' He halted and turned. Beth stretched out her aim, 'Haven't you forgotten something?' she mocked with a cruel smile, giving him some of his own medicine. 'Your ring.'
Dex stood in the doorway, his features a hard mask of indifference. 'Keep it,' he said bitingly. 'A memento of a failed affair. Unless, of course, you want to pay for it in kind.' He smiled with a chilling twist of his hard mouth. 'Unlike the dozens before me, I still have not seen your bedroom.'
This mocking cynicism was the last straw for Beth's over-stretched nerves. Flinging the ring at him, she yelled, 'Get out. Go, go!' And the ring bounced off his cheek and fell to the floor.
His steel-grey eyes flashed with inimicable fury, and like a prowling panther he stalked back towards her. Beth knew she had gone too far. Her heart leapt in her throat as she backed warily away from him. A spot of blood stained his high cheekbone. Served him right, she told herself. Why should she have to put up with his contemptuous remarks, while Dex pretended his motives were pure as the driven snow?
'No one tells me to leave,' he stated softly, in a low tone.
'Until now,' she shot back, refusing to be intimidated but no longer feeling quite so brave as his advance had her backing closer into the hall that led to her bedroom.
'Never, ever,' he drawled quietly, and, catching her by the shoulders, he drew her close. 'And certainly not a devious little girl like you.'
Beth could not prevent the shiver that his large hands on her naked shoulder aroused, and he grinned, with a wolfish twist of his hard mouth.
'A little girl who doesn't know whether she wants to jilt me or jump me,' he mocked with biting sarcasm. 'I think we really need to know the answer, Bethany. Don't you?'
'No, no!' she cried, the implacable determination in his expression telling her exactly what he had in mind. She shuddered as his hands slid caressingly over her shoulders and closed firmly around her upper arms. She wanted to yell at him to stop, but the words stuck in her throat as, with slow deliberation, Dex lifted her up and buried his face in the valley between her breasts. He moved ever so slightly, his mouth covering the tip of her breast which was barely hidden from his view by the fine silk of the ridiculously brief camisole she was wearing.
She grasped his dark head to steady herself. 'Put me down,' she cried, her feet flailing wildly in mid-air, trying to kick him. But she was helpless against his superior height and strength, and, worse, against the exquisite sensations his warm mouth was creating as he continued to nuzzle her breasts.
'I will,' he said silkily, lowering her so they were face to face, 'as soon as I find the bedroom.'
'No!' she cried, disgusted at her own reaction.
But he carried her into the inner hall, deaf to her protest, and shouldered open the bedroom door.
'You can't do this. Put me down!'
'I can, and I will,' he grated, and suddenly Beth found herself sprawled on her back on her own bed, with all the breath knocked out of her. Stunned, she stared as, in a split second, Dex shed his jacket, tie and shrugged out of his shirt.
His muscular chest, tanned and with a light covering of black curling body hair, was a breathtaking sight. A dark line of hair arrowed tantalisingly down to his waist, where his long fingers snapped open the band of his trousers
Beth's green eyes widened to their fullest extent in a mixture of horror and fascination. Dear God, he was stripping! 'You can't do that!' He ignored her. 'Get out! I demand you leave!' He stepped out of his trousers. 'Put them on! Stop it!' she babbled, her voice shrill; he was naked except for a pair of white briefs that did little to hide his maleness. Swallowing hard, she scrambled to sit up. But she was too late.
'Oh, no!' Dex had joined her on the bed; what seemed like acres of naked chest leaned over her, and, raking his hand through her long hair, he lifted her head and his mouth covered hers.
Beth had expected harshness, but he confounded her with the soft pressure of his lips; his tongue traced the outline of her mouth while his other hand slid up over her breast and cupped its lush fullness. She groaned, and his tongue snatched the advantage to plunge between her parted lips.
It wasn't fair! she silently screamed, the echo fading in her mind as Dex continued to kiss her, his mouth exploring hers with sensual expertise. His hands began moving slowly over her breasts, slipping the thin straps of the camisole down over her slender shoulders. Her heartbeat quickened and she shook with the effort of trying to control the effect he was having.
His anger she could have resisted, but the caressing touch of his hands cupping her now naked breasts, and the feather-light brush of his fingers over the hardening peaks, sent sharp stabs of excitement shooting through her. Beth felt herself beginning to weaken. The reason for her fury with him seemed nothing in comparison to the sensual pleasure he was awakening in her.
He raised his head, his glittering eyes raking over her full breasts, their rigid nipples, and a slow, sensual smile curved his hard mouth as he deftly pushed the camisole and her skirt down over her slender hips.
'No,' she croaked, every nerve-ending in her body screaming with her effort to retain control of her drowning senses.
'Yes, Beth, yes. You want me. You know you do.' His dark head bent and his tongue licked teasingly over her breasts.
Beth groaned out loud and she arched against the hard heat of him as electric sensation spun from her breasts to her stomach. She grabbed his dark head and made a last futile attempt to push him away, then he drew one aching nipple into his mouth and she was lost. Instead of pushing him away, her fingers involuntarily tangled in the silky black hair of his head, caressing his scalp,
'That's it, Beth,' he rasped, moving slightly to give the same erotic concentration to her other breast. 'Let yourself go, sweetheart.'
Giorganni's Proposal Page 7
