Argentinian Billionaire (Blood and Thunder 2)

by Susan Stephens

  ~~o0o~~

  He parked the Harley outside the grooms’ accommodation and knocked on Rose’s door. It was a few minutes before seven in the evening. Freshly showered, he was keen to make a start of a night he anticipated would have a most satisfactory conclusion.

  Silence.

  He knocked a second time, more forcefully.

  He wasn’t used to being kept waiting. He wasn’t used to making an effort where women were concerned. He was more used to fending them off. The window in Rose’s bedroom was open. The lights were on. The bed was made. Her clothes were put away. Everything was neat and tidy, but there was no sign of Rose.

  She was probably putting the last touches to her appearance, he reasoned, smiling as he anticipated a fragrant Rose, her black hair loose and curling in wild abandon around her shoulders, clad in some flimsy, provocative number for their date.

  She opened the door wearing pajamas, with a toothbrush in her hand.

  He frowned. “Did I mention fancy dress?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But I mentioned washing my hair— What are you doing?” she yelped.

  Nothing more threatening than removing a smear of toothpaste from her mouth. “Adorable,” he mocked. “Shall we say ten minutes?”

  “I don’t think you heard me,” she said, frowning. “As you can see…” She ran a hand down her faded pajamas. “I’m ready for bed.”

  “I can work with that.”

  “On my own,” she said firmly.

  “Change of plan. We’ve got a club to go to.”

  “You may have a club to go to,” she argued quietly, “but I’ll be up at dawn working with your pony, and I don’t want a late night. I suggest you don’t either.”

  He pulled his head back in surprise. “Are you telling me what to do?”

  “I take my job very seriously,” she assured him. “If I’m working with a horse, I’m with that horse one hundred percent. I’m not half-asleep.”

  “What about the plans I made?”

  “Your plans.” She gave him a withering look. “Exactly.”

  He stared at the door as she closed it in his face. Seeing her come across the room to close the window, he reached past the screen and stopped it with his fist. “Find your dress. I’ll wait.”

  “I don’t have a dress.” She glanced at his Harley. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t wear a dress to ride a thing like that.”

  Her Irish brogue rolled over him like a glass of good wine, which mellowed him slightly. And it wasn’t a flat no. “Ten minutes,” he warned.

  “Tomorrow morning,” she countered. “Five thirty. Indoor ménage.” Closing the window, she drew the curtains.

  He huffed a short laugh. Game on.

  Chapter Three

  She wanted him. She didn’t want him. She wanted him—this was like plucking the petals off a daisy. But she couldn’t risk having him.

  She wanted sex with Dante Formosa. Why pretend otherwise? Who wouldn’t want no-holds-barred, sweaty, noisy sex with a man like Dante? Punctuating each lascivious thought with a punch to her pillow didn’t help. How could her sensible brain tell her one thing while her body said she needed him like air to breathe? That it was him, or nothing—

  Then, it is nothing.

  She’d take the veil if she couldn’t have him!

  She’d better get measured up for her nun’s habit, because she couldn’t have him. She couldn’t risk it. What she had in mind would jeopardize her reputation and her career. She held a position of trust in the Blood and Thunder team and could not afford to mix business with pleasure. And it would be pleasure, she was sure of that. Dante’s eyes promised all sorts of wickedness. His body was made for sin. And while her sensible self said there were plenty of girls only too willing to service his needs, did she really want to stand in line for the chance to become one of them?

  Try telling that to her racing hormones. Did they care? No. They were only interested in Dante releasing her tension and easing the ache. She needed that brutally masculine totem to everything that was harsh and unfeeling to touch her here…and here…and here…lots of here, just like this…delicately, persuasively, rhythmically here—

  No!

  What was she doing?

  Stop that now!

  Reluctantly pulling her hand out of her pajama bottoms, she flung herself back on the pillows. Self-help was no help at all if it made her feel more frustrated, not less.

  Ten minutes later, the phone rang and everything changed. Catapulting up in bed, she listened intently to her father calling from Ireland. He was in trouble. She’d never heard him sounding more distressed.

  ~~o0o~~

  Dante loved the power of the Harley. Controlling the superbike gave him a buzz that only riding a horse flat-out could match. Control was everything. Riding a horse, a bike, a woman—the only flaw tonight was not riding Rose. He smiled as he thought of her shutting the door in his face—something that had never happened before and would never happen again. After skidding to a halt on top of the hill, he braced his forearms on the handlebars and lifted his head. The ocean roared at him on one side, while impenetrable darkness mocked him from the other. Was he seriously going to the club to sit at a bar and pick someone up, take them home, then wonder who was sharing his bed in the morning? Gunning the engine, he swung the bike around.

  The wind tore through his hair as he roared back the way he’d come. He owned a share of everything on the island and could lay his head wherever he chose. But not in Rose’s bed. She’d made that much clear.

  He slowed at the main gates. The guard waved him through. Cutting the speed of the engine to a rumbling growl, he cruised slowly down the impressive drive with its stately border of trees. Taking a left at the end, he approached the staff quarters. He rode past the equine exercise pool and the fully staffed veterinary hospital. The team’s facilities were the best in the world. The grooming shed alone boasted more equipment that a top-end hairdresser, and the forge had a full-time team of blacksmiths. Switching off his engine, he rolled to a halt outside Rose’s window. He wasn’t sure what he expected to hear, but it wasn’t this.

  “Rose?” Springing from the bike, he hammered on her door.

  As before, she didn’t answer, but the crying stopped. Leaning back against the door, he swore beneath his breath. Hearing Rose cry shocked him. She was always so together. She never let go.

  Pulling away from the door, he supposed he should thank fate she hadn’t answered. What was he going to do? Hug her? Comfort her? Skills he’d lost years back? Maybe she was crying over a lover. Maybe that was why she was holding out on him. He mounted his bike and rode away.

  ~~o0o~~

  They met up again as arranged the next morning. They were both on horseback. Rose looked as if she’d been working for some time when he followed her into the arena. At first glance, she seemed tense, though that could have been because she was thoroughly immersed in the training session and concentrating hard. Her eyes were the giveaway. They were still red from crying. He’d ask questions later. He’d slept at Cesar’s, sleep being a euphemism for tossing and turning, imagining exactly this—Rose, neat and tempting in the saddle. Sexual frustration was eating him alive. He sincerely hoped she hadn’t slept either. She was riding bareback with just a bridle to control Lucifer. Both rider and horse had noticed him entering the arena but paid him no attention. Lucifer was concentrating hard too. It was as if the horse wanted to please Rose. The stallion Dante was riding would normally send Lucifer loco, and Fuego was doing his best to disturb the lesson by putting on quite a show.

  “That horse needs training,” Rose observed quietly as she cantered past.

  “Don’t you like his fire?”

  “I admire control more.”

  “Do you?” He smiled.

  She gave him an acid look as she came past again.

  “Good job,” he murmured. “I’ve got another test for you,” he added when she eventually reined in.

  “For me o
r for the horse?”

  The same challenge was in her eyes, but she didn’t look away, as if daring him to comment on the fact she’d been crying. “Both of you,” he said. “We’re going swimming.”

  Rose frowned. “There’s an Olympic-size swimming pool for us, and an equine pool for the horses. Which one did you have in mind?”

  “The ocean.” When her eyes widened, he explained. “Lucifer hates swimming in the ocean, but it’s good for him. I want him to trust enough to enjoy it. If you can make him do that, I’ll back you in anything.”

  “That’s quite an offer.”

  “Do you accept?”

  “I’m not dressed for swimming in the sea.”

  “You wear underwear, don’t you?”

  “That’s none of your business—”

  He laughed, and even Rose had the good grace to smile at her remark.

  “If you’re not wearing anything beneath your clothes, swim naked,” he advised. “All I care about is the horse. Your naked body is of absolutely no interest to me.”

  He caught the brief, disappointed tightening of Rose’s lips before she said, “If you think it will help Lucifer, I’m happy to give it a go.”

  ~~o0o~~

  You are such a liar, Rose thought as Dante’s black stare stripped her naked. He was interested in every woman with breath in her body. A man with a libido like his had to be constantly scouting for new avenues to explore. Well, hers was one avenue he wasn’t going to drive down—and her desperate body could butt out. She’d made up her mind. Her common sense had won through. She had more important things to worry about than Dante’s sexual needs.

  “If you’re too tired,” he probed, taking advantage of her silence.

  “I’m not too tired.” And I’m not going to tell you anything, she thought, until I’ve had a chance to mull over the problems in Ireland, though I can see you looking at my bleary eyes and wondering what’s wrong with me.

  A brief flash of concern in Dante’s eyes surprised her. She hadn’t expected it, and it made her want to tell him everything. He was a soldier as well as a polo player, and as hard as tempered steel. If anyone could help, he could. But she had to sort out her own problems, Rose concluded as she patted Lucifer’s neck.

  “He’ll love playing in the surf, won’t you, boy? And of course I’m happy to ride him.”

  “In that case…shall we?” Backing his stallion up, Dante waited for her to leave the arena in front of him.

  Every encounter with Dante was tense, Rose reflected as they left the yard. How could it not be, when, on her side at least, she felt sex snapping between them like an electric current? She couldn’t deny the tension excited her. It also warned her to remain professional—which wasn’t so hard when she had the prospect of riding Lucifer to the beach. She wasn’t quite so confident when it came to riding in her underwear in front of Dante. Her wet underwear. She was the last person on earth to volunteer to take part in a wet T-shirt contest. Having grown up with six brothers, she was modest to a fault.

  I’m shy now?

  No, she wasn’t shy. This was all part of the job.

  And Dante?

  Seducing her would be nothing more than a stretch of his limbs before breakfast. The only requirement was that she was on hand and apparently in good working order, but as he didn’t seem interested, she was safe. And this was her chance to sound him out about her father’s problems. She couldn’t afford to rest on her pride where that was concerned. She had to try every option, and with her brothers away on a mission with Blackheart, she would need help. “Race you to the beach?”

  “Race me?”

  Dante was clearly trying to curb a smile. “Why not?” she pressed.

  He laughed, confident it would be no contest. He was the world-class rider. She might have a particular skill when it came to horses, but this was like comparing a piano tuner to a concert pianist. No wonder he was certain of victory. But there was something he’d overlooked—two things, if she took into account the fact that she was half his weight. She was riding Dante’s best horse. Even given his superior skills, he was right in saying it was no contest, because she was going to win.

  ~~o0o~~

  “Cheat!” she yelled when she arrived on the beach after riding flat-out along the trail. Dante was idling in the saddle, watching her as she trotted up.

  “I did what I had to do to win,” he said with a wry shrug as she reined in.

  “You might have warned me that all options were open.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did we mention playing fair?”

  She pulled a face and shook her head. No rules. Her mistake. If she’d stop to think for a minute, she might have known that Dante would take the most direct route, down a tricky slope. He was a world-beater and hadn’t achieved that position by following the crowd.

  But this was her reward, Rose thought as she turned to look at the ocean. Not so bad…especially when she brought Dante into frame. He was also staring out to sea, and in profile, he was possibly even better looking than he was face-on. He was an incredible-looking man—elemental and perfectly at home on the wild shoreline. Mounted on his proud black stallion, he looked more the Romani chieftain than ever. His jeans were snug, and his shirt was undone to the waist. His powerful body suggested a man who lived in the gym, but he was so deeply tanned she doubted he did. She looked away quickly as he glanced at her. Dante’s stallion was pawing the sand impatiently, while Lucifer was waiting calmly for her next instruction. She was so proud of the horse.

  “After you,” Dante invited.

  His smile was for the horse, not for her. He had no difficulty showing his feelings where animals were concerned; it was just humans that pissed him off.

  “Don’t forget to strip,” he murmured as she turned Lucifer toward the ocean. “Staff clothing?”

  Correct. She was wearing the official uniform of high-quality breeches and a shirt embroidered with the team logo.

  “Are you shy?” Dante suggested.

  Just because she wasn’t a second Ms. Pants-down… “Are you mocking me?”

  “A little,” he admitted.

  Banter that brought them closer only made her yearn to be closer still, which wasn’t helpful when she was trying to keep everything on a professional level. It would be safer in the water. Maybe the chill of the surf would cool them down. “I’ll strip if you’ll strip,” she challenged.

  Big mistake.

  Swinging his leg over the side of his stallion, Dante slid her a look as he dropped to the ground.

  “I don’t mean in front of me—” Too late.

  Her senses sharpened as Dante shrugged off his shirt. Closing her eyes briefly, she relished the vision that was Dante Formosa half-naked, and didn’t risk looking at him again until they were both in the water, by which time she had discreetly stripped down to her sensible underwear.

  Sensible was the only type she owned.

  She glanced at Dante’s muscular back as he plunged into the surf ahead of her. He had to be one of the few men on earth who looked as good from the back as he did from the front. Turning Lucifer into the waves, she murmured distractedly, “Let’s do this—”

  She shrieked as the chill of the water enveloped her and was glad of Lucifer’s solid warmth beneath her. He responded to her instructions beautifully and didn’t hesitate at all. She had his confidence. It was the best feeling in the world. Swimming him was amazing. They moved as one, and as Lucifer plunged through the waves, she was thrilled to know the big horse trusted her.

  She might have enjoyed it more, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her father and how best to broach the subject of helping him. If Dante agreed to be involved, what would be his price?

  “You’ve done really well with Lucifer,” he commented when they were back on the shore.

  “My pleasure.” True. Nothing gave Rose greater pleasure than working with horses to make sure they achieved their full potential.

  “Did you enjoy it?” Dante
asked.

  “Do you need to ask?”

  “But?” he probed, riding up alongside.

  “What do you mean?”

  He gave her a look. “I know when something’s troubling you. I can sense it.”

  “Do you also know when you can’t help?”

  “Like you Rose, I’m not easily put off.”

  “I don’t have a problem,” she insisted.

  “If you say so.”

  As Dante’s lips pressed down, she knew he didn’t believe her.

  Her sensible bra was completely see-through now it was wet. She turned her horse away so Dante couldn’t see her burning cheeks. He’d think her naïve. She was naïve to agree to this in the first place. Any form of one-on-one encounter with Dante was bound to have undercurrents, and swimming practically naked in the sea sent all the wrong messages. Dismounting, she collected her uniform from the rock where she’d left it neatly folded and dragged it on over her still-damp body.

  She covered herself as Dante rode up. Naked, apart from his black boxers, he was a breath-stealing sight. It was a battle to keep her stare leveled on his face.

  “What?” he asked as he dismounted and tethered his horse to a tree.

  “That was wonderful. Thank you. You were right to persuade me to come.”