Get a grip, girl. She needed space to be herself and breathe freely. She’d leave first thing tomorrow, while her nosy neighbors still slept. Would they call her a quitter and other malicious names as they’d called her mother? Maybe the beautiful Annabelle had gone through the same hell before running away with her lover.
Unable to stay a moment longer in her apartment, she slipped on a bikini covered with shorts and a see-through top, ready to go for a last swim and a farewell walk on the beach. As she opened her door, she was caught in a bear hug and pushed back into her condo.
“Oh my God.” Alexa squealed. Her breath jammed in her throat as Dante Cantari kicked her apartment door closed behind them and squeezed her against his chest. “Dante…” A masculine scent mixed with a whiff of lemon enveloped her.
“Cara mia, you are even more beautiful than when I left. Bella... Bellissima.” The Italian hunk in swimming shorts and tank top held her at arm’s length, and offered her a wide grin that brightened her living room more than a noon sun.
She was bella? What was the masculine word for handsome in Italian? Her gaze roamed over his raven black hair, curly and thick, and in need of a cut, a strand falling over his sapphire blue eyes.
“I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought you moved somewhere else without telling me. I thought...” Oh dear, she was babbling nonsense. Still unable to believe he was here, holding her, she blinked, glad she hadn’t left in the morning.
“Oh Alexa, I’d never do such a thing. You’re more important to me than you think.”
What do you know? Her wish had come true after all. Right away. She almost giggled. “When did you get back from Sicily?” To make sure she wasn’t dreaming, she stroked his chiseled jaw with her fingertips.
“Two hours ago. Just emptied my suitcases, changed into a Floridian outfit, paid a few bills. And then I rushed to visit my next door neighbor to tell her...” The intensity of his gaze sparked a rush of emotion through her blood. “To tell her how much I missed her.” He gave her a bone-melting smile that mesmerized her, and covered her mouth, darting his tongue between her parted lips, and exploring every recess with growing hunger.
Trying to free herself, she squirmed, and then gave up on futile talk as she relished his taut body and smoldering kisses. Caress for caress and stroke for stroke, she matched his ardor.
Things would be fine.
Things were fine. Amazing. Incredible.
Without interrupting his kisses, he hauled her up and strode toward her bedroom. A scenario she’d played in her fantasy every night for the past two months.
“Cara mia, I dreamed of having you in my arms so many times.” He gently slid her against his hard body and kept her in his embrace.
Their reflection in the gilded mirror above her dresser slammed her with the force of a hurricane. Sanity returned to her befuddled mind as they stood in the middle of her lavish bedroom. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Darling, I missed you so much and—”
“Wait.” She’d be damned before she admitted she’d thought about him day and night. Not when he hadn’t called her for the last three weeks. Anger flooded her heart at his casual desertion. She’d naively thought he’d sweep her off her feet, love her, and take her away to his beautiful island. When would she stop believing in fairytales and grow up? Dante had flown to his native land—alone.
“You missed me?” Raising her hands, she pressed both palms on his chest to ward him off. “Is that why you only texted a couple of lines to answer my messages?” She blushed, now disgusted by her way-too-eager messages.
“You’re the one who stopped contacting me.”
If she had any sense in her head, she’d stop ogling the biceps straining to bring her back against his chest or the muscled legs revealed by his swimming shorts. Biting her lips to avoid licking them, she averted her eyes. “You seemed so busy. You didn’t even question my silence.”
“Alexa, you can’t begin to imagine the problems I had to face in my hometown.” A heavy exhale escaped him.
Should she believe him? An international lawyer with a smooth tongue and determined voice, Dante could talk any convict into confessing the truth, or convince any stubborn judge to reverse a harsh decision.
Alexa arched her eyebrow. “You didn’t mention problems before leaving.” She tilted her head, imitating his voice. “Just a couple of weeks to attend my grandfather’s funeral. Now, don’t forget me.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Did you?”
Unfortunately, she hadn’t forgotten their last dinner at Aruba restaurant on the beach, their walk on the sand by moonlight, and their last drink on the balcony of his condo. A drink intermingled with music, dance, and passionate kisses that left her hungry for more. No, she hadn’t forgotten a single minute of their time together or his promise to call every day and come back to her soon. Good thing she hadn’t completely lost her head and tumbled into bed with him before he left.
Squinting at him, she summoned an assertive calm she was far from feeling. “What problems?”
“I had to help my grandmother after my grandfather passed. It’s too complicated to explain.”
Explain about his grandfather, or one of the pretty women from his old country and his past? But a few kisses under a full moon didn’t give her the right to be jealous.
Dropping on the edge of her bed, she scrutinized his face for telltale signs of lies. “Is your grandmother sick?”
“No, she’s fine. Nonna is a strong woman who always stood by her husband, but often imposed her own decisions.” Dante paused, his mouth twitching. “Suffice it to say, some local maf... I mean scum tried to drag my grandfather’s reputation through the mud. It took me two full months to clear our family name.”
“You still have an active Mafia in Sicily?” She hadn’t missed the word he’d tried to swallow back.
“There are bad guys everywhere in the world.” In other words, he wouldn’t elaborate on his grandfather’s possible connection to the Mafia.
Warning bells rang in her head. After she’d married a tyrant who was twenty-five years older than her, and recently struggled to keep a harassing jerk at bay, could she trust the grandson of a mafioso?
His scowl faded, replaced by a poker face. “Anyway, it wasn’t a fun trip, my dear. I’m not going back soon.” He shrugged, dismissing the personal subject. “Too much work waiting for me here. Besides, I missed you.” He pulled her back into his arms.
The easy grin lifting the corner of his lips melted her insides, and his eyes darkened with desire, sending her pulse into overdrive. He was going to kiss her again and she wanted him to. With her belly flattened against his firm abs and his bare legs rubbing hers, her body tingled in anticipation.
To hell with the Mafia. Her head reeling, she laced her fingers behind his nape. He tugged her lower lip between his and sucked on it, his palm caressing and kneading her back.
That felt so good. But...
She sighed and drew back. “No. Not like this.”
He released her and frowned. “Why not, mia bella? I think we both want it. Isn’t it time we started a relationship?”
Boy, she could tell he was hard for her. “Mmm…” Pushing him, she poked her finger into his chest. “No,” she snapped. “We still have a lot to discuss.”
He probably didn’t want her heart, just the generous D-cups above it. Like all Italians, he excelled at flattery.
“Ouch.” His fingers enfolded her hand and firmly held it. “We’ll talk later.”
“Easy to say. You go away and come back, ready to pick up as if…”
He smiled smugly.
She bit her lip, not knowing how to phrase her frustration without revealing too much of her eagerness. He already oozed self-confidence, compliments of her brazen response to his kisses. “As if I should be at your beck and call, waiting for the moment you show up, so I can fall again into your arms.”
Which was exactly what I did,
damn it. She couldn’t tumble into bed with him and later regret her bout of lust for months. But she wanted a night in Dante’s arms. A night of love, not of lust. She’d had her share of lust-without-feelings with her ex.
A banging interrupted her. Dante spun toward the bedroom door. “What’s that?”
She stiffened. “Damn it.”
“Someone’s at your door.”
“I’ll get it and be right back.” She checked herself in the mirror and smoothed her hair. Another knock on the door grated on her nerves.
“I bet it’s your ex.”
“Probably.” Her recent euphoria died as she remembered the turmoil brewing outside her little haven.
“You should tell him to stop barging in without an invitation.”
Why was Greg here, now? Couldn’t he ever let her enjoy a moment of happiness away from him? She wanted her moment. She wanted Dante. Why was she fighting her desire for the man of her dreams?
A quick look at him had her groaning. All male and handsome, he lusted for her and his scorching gaze promised to take her to heaven and back. “Well, hurry up. It’s not particularly exciting to imagine you with your ex.”
As if to confirm it, another knock pounded loudly. After closing her bedroom door, she rushed toward the living room.
“Coming,” she called between gritted teeth.
I hate you, Greg Partson.
****
Alexa skated to the front door and pulled it open while blocking the doorway.
“What took you so long?” The assessing gleam in Greg’s gray eyes turned suspicious as he peered above her shoulder and scanned the living room.
She frowned and mentally cursed her ex-husband’s lousy timing. “I’m getting dressed to go to the beach,” she said, determined not to let him step in. His gaze lingered on her breasts generously displayed by her green bikini bra and flowered sheer top, prompting her to cross her arms and conceal her décolletage.
Struggling to control her rising temper, she stabbed him with a stern look. “Why are you here?”
“I came to see if you were okay.” His voice oozed with saccharine sweetness. “And tell you—”
“I’m fine.” Damn it, she was fine a few minutes ago, but he’d spoiled her mood at the worst possible moment. She plastered on a perfunctory smile and held herself rooted to block the entrance, her hands gripping the door and its frame. “Get to the point.”
“I just came to tell you a detective will meet us at eight in the conference room.”
“I’ll be there.”
“He’ll interview the condo owners who saw the deceased recently.” Greg leaned forward and grabbed her shoulders. “Was Steve Bairey here last night or today?” His breath blasted with alcohol fumes.
Alexa almost gagged. She tilted her chin, refusing to lie but hating Greg’s distrust. “Yes. Why?”
“What did Steve want?” They may have been divorced for three years now, but her domineering ex-husband granted himself the right to keep tabs on her personal life.
“Last night I didn’t let him in. Steve talked to me at the door and asked me to reconsider my refusal to marry him.”
“Marry you?” Greg’s lips thinned to an angry line. “Without even finalizing his divorce?”
She scoffed and shrugged free from his grip. “I’ve already mentioned to you he’s been harassing me.”
“And as President of the Association I warned him to stay away from you.” A muscle twitched at the base of his neck, but he recovered his arrogant stance soon enough. “What about today? When did he come over?”
“I’ve had it with your inquisition. Do we need to discuss this now?”
Dante was in her bedroom getting impatient.
Could she push Greg out? Physically push him out with her fists and all her strength? How had she been able to withstand five long years married to the autocratic sleaze ball? She hissed and tried to bang the door shut, but he blocked it with his foot.
“Alexa, answer me, damn it.” His bellow made her jump. “Did Steve come today?”
“Yes. Yes, he came two hours ago.” Who cares when Dante is here?
“Around two?” he specified after glancing at his watch. “And?”
“I threatened to report him for harassment. But he said he came to say goodbye.” She exhaled her exasperation. Greg focused a stern look on her.
“Did he stay long?” Disapproval underlined his tone.
“For heaven’s sake, why all these questions?” She tapped her foot, ready to kick it into Greg’s leg. Was he dense or what? He arched a suspicious eyebrow. Understanding dawned on her. “Oh my God, you thought I could have done something to ki... kill him? Is that why you’re bombarding me with questions?” Alexa rubbed her neck to soothe the lump in her throat.
“Well, I remembered you saying once you wanted to kill him for stalking you.”
“Are you crazy?” She glared at him with the temptation to throw a punch at his face. “There is a difference between saying something in anger and killing someone.”
Greg shrugged. “I just wanted to know if anything unusual happened here. I mean before the detective questions you.”
“Thanks for your concern.” She snorted. “But it’s not fair for Dianna that you keep coming here.” And for Dante who must be seething, locked in her bedroom. She gritted her teeth and avoided glancing at the corridor that led to her bedroom.
“Don’t worry about her. Dianna wants to become the third Mrs. Partson. She knows that when I make a promise I keep it. I also promised your father I’ll take care of you.”
As if she could care less about Dianna, or any prospective wife of her ex. Her Sicilian friend was back in town after two long months and she couldn’t wait to be back in his arms.
“And I’ll do it, whether we’re married or divorced,” Greg continued with his usual authoritative voice.
“Now, leave. I have things to do. Bye.”
Giving her a sarcastic smile, he extended a hand toward her cheek. She pulled back before he connected. “You poor thing, you’re going through so much. We don’t know what went wrong with Bairey. If it was a heart attack, he could have died in your apartment.”
She swallowed. “Well, he didn’t, so—”
“We don’t know exactly what happened. If…”
“Get out!” She pushed Greg and closed the door in his face.
If she’d let him babble any longer, he’d soon convince her she was responsible for Steve’s death, and then he’d try to cheer her up.
Chapter Two
Dante had it with passively waiting while Alexa made small talk with Greg Partson. It was astonishing how her fifty-something ex had managed to convince her that she couldn’t function without his advice when he continuously zoomed in his bifocals on her breasts. Why couldn’t she just shove the two-faced lecher out of her place?
Dante wished he hadn’t stayed so long in Sicily. But he’d had no choice. He needed to fix the mess his grandfather’s death had unraveled and his connection to the Mafia. The old man had been a highly regarded chairman of the board at several banks but surreptitiously continued the questionable activities of his youth. Dante had trouble convincing the Sicilian police that he had never been involved in his nonno’s secret business.
Now that he was back in the U.S., he needed to avoid any activity that would attract the paparazzi’s curiosity, and later the attention of the local and Sicilian police, or worse the Mafia’s retribution. His grandmother was entitled to peace and security in her American home after the turmoil they’d faced in the old country, and Dante would rather stay away from any scandal that could hurt his career as a lawyer.
Determined to make it up to Alexa, he armed himself with patience, admired her light and dark, pink striped walls, and stylish furniture. Every piece boasted good taste, refined elegance, and the exorbitant price—a reflection of Alexa’s world.
He glanced at his watch, sat on the side of the bed and fished through the magazines stac
ked in a golden basket next to the bed post. He selected one and flipped the pages. Why did it take her so long to throw Greg out and come back?
After another peek at his watch, he strolled to the balcony and contemplated the picture-perfect view of the Fort Lauderdale Intracoastal and the intricate pattern of canals crossing the main waterway. At the moment, his mind couldn’t assimilate artistic scenes, unless the art work related to Alexa’s perfect curves, the rich golden highlights in her hair or the green mystery of her eyes that hid yearning and vulnerability.
Dante checked his watch for the hundredth time. He stopped pacing when the doorknob turned.
“Dante? Dante where are you?” Anxiety underlined her questions.
He raised his wrist and tapped his watch. “Five minutes?”
“Huh… It takes time to persuade Greg he’s not welcome.”
“I noticed.” Guilt poked him like a stick. Poor Alexa, he couldn’t blame her for his being stuck here in her bedroom seething while her ex sniffed around her place like a dog after a bitch in heat.
“Dante, come back inside. Listen—”
“I’m sorry. I was frustrated, but so were you.” More than ready to ignore the interruption, Dante pulled her against him and stroked the long tresses cascading over her shoulders and down her back.
“I want to explain—”
“Let’s go back to where we were.” Patience was not his forte when Alexa’s delectable form pressed against him, and her heady perfume enticed him. Capturing her mouth, he scooped her up and walked inside the room, his body throbbing with sexual need as her sweet floral scent enveloped him. Sitting on the bed, he settled her on his lap while he continued to devour her lips.
“Dante, please. Not now. We can’t...” She frantically shook her head.
“Why not, darling?” He trailed kisses on her cheeks, her temple, and jaw and nipped the sensitive skin of her throat. “We have all the time in the world, now that your ex is gone. Forget everything but you and me.”
The Ultimate Romance Box (6 Bestselling Romance Novels) Page 55
