“Let’s go, Pa,” she said, walking briskly past him.
The urge to grab her close was almost irresistible.
There was no doubt as to where the party was being held. He heard the noise half a mile down the road. Rose’s father was greeted like a returning hero and ushered to the bar, where several tots of whisky were waiting for him. Dante stood back in the shadows, happy to see the old man being fussed over after his recent difficulties. He soon worked out that everyone in Crackallen could dance or carry a tune. They were all letting it rip, though not necessarily the same tune, or even the same dance. Rose had insisted on buying him a pint of Guinness. Her father had gone to play dominoes with his friends and no doubt make tall stories taller.
Dante’s senses sharpened as Rose approached. She just had a chance to hand over the glass of dry stout when one of the local men asked her to dance. Placing the tall black drink with its thick head of flavorsome cream on a nearby table, Dante cut in.
“Did you have to do that?” Rose complained as he led her away.
“Yes.”
“I’ll dance when I want to dance, and with whomever I want to dance,” she told him, frowning as she pulled away. “And you have no right to stop me. This is my private time. You’re not my boss here—”
Breath shot out of her as he drew her close. “Want to test that theory?”
“All right,” she said to soothe him. “I can’t dance. I’m useless.”
“But you’ve got an excellent sense of rhythm,” he pointed out.
Her cheeks pinked up. “Trust you to remember.” Her tongue crept out to moisten her lips, and even through the fabric dividing them, he could feel her nipples responding to the heat between them.
“All you have to do,” he pointed out, “is think where to put your feet—”
“In your mouth?” she suggested. “Okay, one dance,” she agreed when he laughed.
One dance was all it took. His arms had missed her. He had missed her. Holding her felt right. She settled into his arms like warm wax, a perfect fit in every way, though she was half his size.
“What now?” he asked when she stiffened.
“Everything’s just too easy for you,” she said as she stared into his eyes.
“That doesn’t make it wrong.” He brought his mouth close to her ear to whisper this and felt her tremble.
“Maybe,” she conceded with a shrug, pulling back a little, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to lose the same battle twice.”
“So you won’t be coming to Argentina with me?”
“Argentina?” She looked at him with surprise.
“That’s where I’m heading next. I can’t stay away from my estate forever.”
“I realize that. I just didn’t think—”
“You’ll love it there.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Would you like it to be?”
She was about to say yes when she hesitated. “What?” he queried.
“Maybe I’ve had enough of relationships that shut off immediately after sex.”
“A relationship?” He frowned.
“Sex,” she amended, gazing skyward as she acknowledged her mistake. “You take what you want—as much as you need, and then that’s it for you.”
“Don’t you do the same?” he challenged.
The music slowed. He brought her close. The slightest friction of his body against hers deepened his hunger.
“Can’t you wait?” she asked.
“Can you?”
He led her off the dance floor.
~~o0o~~
They ran across the parking lot. Dante unlocked the SUV remotely when they were still a few yards away. He opened the door; she jumped inside; he followed. He did something with a lever, and her seat fell back so she was lying flat beneath him. It was hard to stop trembling with excitement when she knew relief was only moments away. Her body craved him like a wild thing she had no control over. And while this suited her, she’d go along with it, but then she’d—
She’d what? Walk away?
Dante was in the same sort of mood. He wasn’t interested in delay. Pushing her dress back, he parted her legs. “No underwear?” he exclaimed softly.
“Oh, did I forget?”
He gave her a look. “You were up in your bedroom long enough. I would have thought it might occur to you at some point.”
Okay, so she was a shameless hussy. Hang her for it.
Honestly? She had imagined this very scenario occurring at some point in the evening, and the thought of exposing her grannie bashers to Dante’s searching hands held no appeal. Going commando was by far the better way.
“This is one bad habit I’d like you to keep,” he said with approval that made her softly pulsing body even more impatient for his touch.
It was like the first time all over again: intensely and unbelievably pleasurable—incredible, really…incredible to be with Dante. There was just one crucial difference this time, and that was that her feelings for him got in the way. She wanted more than he was prepared to give her. She wanted all of him. Would she go to Argentina? The chance to see and work with Dante every day was so tempting. But would it be enough for her? At the moment, she was a craven love slave with a world of emotion thrown in, but when feelings ran as deep as hers did, she had everything to lose.
Dante found new and exciting ways to distract her, and she lost control exultantly and repeatedly, while he encouraged her all the way. Her mind blanked to everything connected with Argentina, and when she quieted for a few seconds, he murmured, “Again?” As her feet were braced against the roof of the vehicle at the time, that didn’t seem like an unreasonable suggestion.
There was only one thing concerning her now, Rose thought as she resolutely pushed all her deeper worries away. They were rocking the hell out of the off-roader. Could an SUV tip over?
Chapter Eight
Their absence from the party had not been noticed. Which wasn’t so surprising when they returned to find everyone dancing and the band in full swing with Rose’s father in the thick of it. The noise was ferocious, and the air had become a humid smog of warm bodies and alcohol. They spent the rest of the night in silence, hunkered over a couple of beers at the bar. No one disturbed them. They were a tight unit—or must appear to be so, Rose thought. Dante drove them home shortly after midnight. Her father sang happily and tunelessly all the way. “It’s good to see you enjoying yourself, Rose,” he commented in a break between songs. “You don’t get out enough.”
“Nor do you,” she replied fondly.
“Maybe I will now I know I can safely leave the animals.” He glanced gratefully at Dante.
She smiled and reached over the seat to squeeze his arm. “You should get out more. You’ve been lonely long enough.”
~~o0o~~
Dante saw Rose and her father into the house and then returned to the inn. He climbed the creaking stairs to his room, lifted the black, wrought iron latch, and switched on the light. He liked Crackallen, and he liked the characters who lived here. Maybe he’d buy a place.
To add to the dozen or so properties I own across the world and never visit?
He called in once a year on most of them, to check they were still standing. He called nowhere home.
He booted up the laptop to make sure the security cameras on the farm were operating efficiently, then he took a shower and went to bed. And didn’t sleep. Not that the bed wasn’t comfortable. Just that it was empty without Rose.
He was up at dawn the next morning. He skipped breakfast in favor of driving straight to the farm. He was impatient to see her—to have her. No other woman had ever consumed him like Rose.
The kitchen door was open. He walked straight in. She was at the range, making breakfast. He strode across the room, and before she had a chance to turn around, he looped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck. She felt, smelled, tasted as good as he’d anticipated—maybe better. The way she leaned i
nto him said she felt the same.
“So you’re coming to Argentina,” he confirmed.
She turned around in his arms so she could look at him. Her expression was as challenging and seductive as ever. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
“You left the door open.”
“You’re right. I should have closed and bolted it against you,” she agreed.
“That wouldn’t have saved you.”
“From you? Probably not,” she agreed, “because you’re the guy who finds the door locked, so he climbs in through the window.”
“That’s me.” He smiled faintly. “But, seriously. Always remember to lock that door. I walked straight in.”
“You care about me now?” she challenged, but behind the bravado, there was a real question.
“You work for me. Of course I care about you.”
“I work for you, and therefore I’m your responsibility. Isn’t that what you mean, Dante?”
“Is there a difference?”
He saw the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but then it was gone, and, smiling, she pulled away. “I heard you arrive.”
“You recognized the sound of the vehicle,” he guessed.
“There aren’t many that purr their way across the yard. Most clang and clatter before collapsing in a heap.” She laughed.
He laughed too. He loved to see her laugh—too much, maybe.
Closing his eyes, he dragged in Rose’s familiar scent in an attempt to reboot his senses. There was a top note of soap over clean hay and horses, with a little bacon fat thrown in. He recognized his Romani ancestry at work. Romani would talk about the scent of one special woman imprinting on the senses of her mate so there could be no escape. Was that what was happening? He’d always thought it nonsense before.
“Tea?” she asked, jolting him out of his introspection.
“Coffee?”
“Ah yes,” she said. “I’ll make some for you. And as for my being safe in the house with the door unlocked,” she added as she reached inside a cupboard. “You knew I was safe.”
“Did I?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t find the cameras? Your men are good, but not that good, and I’m not exactly stupid.”
“You weren’t supposed to find them. I’ll have a word with my men.”
“You leave them alone,” she warned, only half joking. “Did you see anything to interest you last night?” she added, casting him a look.
“I checked in to make sure you were safe.”
“And?”
What he’d seen last night had just taken on a whole new meaning. If Rose knew about the cameras, she’d been performing for him.
“Did you watch me undress?” she pressed.
“Yes. And I watched you caress your breasts when you took a bath.”
“Anything more?”
He’d watched her sleep.
“I obviously entertained you.”
“You did.”
“So, what brings you here so early?”
“You.” He saw no reason to string this out. “Where’s your father?”
“Still sleeping off last night.”
When he brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck, she quivered beneath his touch.
“He’s just upstairs,” she whispered.
“You don’t want this?”
“You know I do.” She pulled away. “But what would it take for you to say, good morning Rose, how are you today? Instead of looking at me as if I’m breakfast.”
“You are. I want to fuck.”
“In the kitchen with my father asleep upstairs?”
He shrugged. “Wherever.”
“Don’t you have any finer feelings?”
“None.”
“You really are the Romani chieftain, aren’t you?”
He stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He came. He saw. He conquered,” she explained matter-of-factly, refusing to tiptoe around his hang-ups. “I think you’re perfectly capable of feeling emotion and caring too—just not for me.”
He raised a brow. “Are you showing feelings now?”
“Me? You’re a fine one to talk.” She turned back to the range.
Sex was spectacular with Dante. He was spectacular. Towering over her here in her father’s kitchen, he was a totem to male sexuality and a stunning sight. He was fabulously successful in every way and had inherited the best of both sides of his family. With the dark arrogance of a Romani chieftain, he had the pride of an Argentinian grandee, and that was a breath-stealing mix. Her body was ultra-aware of him—no problem there—but in her heart, there was a need he couldn’t touch; a need he didn’t want to touch, because Dante shied away from feelings, and she didn’t know why. If he’d been a stallion instead of a man, she might have been able to use her skills on him. As it was…
“I won’t be coming to Argentina,” she announced.
Dante’s surprise was obvious, but she pressed on. “I’m going back to Isla Celeste to finish the job I started. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for my father. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“I’m not looking for payment,” Dante told her coolly. “As I told you before, our deal is done.”
That sounded so final, her heart clutched tight.
“I’ll be more use to the team on the island,” she said as if trying to convince herself.
“Isn’t that for me to decide?”
The warning chill in Dante’s eyes said she’d gone too far. What would it take to soften him, she wondered, and not just see his eyes brighten with lust? If only he would take the first step, make the first move, and hold her with real tenderness. He’d shown his caring side to her father, and she’d seen him being warm with Miguel. He was always relaxed with his colleagues on the team. Why not with her? What was holding him back? Was Dante hiding something? What could be so terrible that he couldn’t reach past it?
Maybe he just isn’t interested.
Maybe.
Always forthright, she decided to ask him. She swung around.
Arms folded, Dante leaned back against the wall, watching her. He was such an incongruous sight in the shabby kitchen—not that she’d ever noticed it was shabby before. The kitchen was her favorite room in the old farmhouse. It was familiar and it was warm, thanks to the fire and thanks to the way it made her feel inside. The same drying cloths her mother had used were still hanging on the range. Her father couldn’t bear to throw them out, and neither could she, though they were frayed now and the linen had worn through in places so there were raggedy holes. But that didn’t matter, Rose thought as she laid the table with mismatched crockery, because this was a home, and even though Romani were constantly on the move, they took their homes and their precious things with them, so why couldn’t Dante call anywhere home? Why was he so detached and distant?
“What are you afraid of?” she asked, glancing up at him.
“I beg your pardon?” He looked at her as if she’d gone briefly mad.
“There must be something,” she insisted, “Everyone’s frightened of something, and I can’t believe you’re incapable of empathizing with another human being unless something bad has happened to you. Or is it just me that you have a problem with?”
“I do empathize,” he argued. “And I fight injustice.”
“All the time,” Rose agreed. “But do you care beyond righting wrongs?”
“If I dwelt on things—”
“They might weaken you? I don’t think so. You’re stronger than that. Sausage and eggs?”
Dante curbed a smile. “Only you,” he observed dryly.
“Only me, what?” she pressed.
“Only you could segue from psychology to sausages in a single breath.” He made her a mock bow. “You have my everlasting admiration, Senorita Delaney.”
“And you’ll have a fried egg on your head if you don’t stop mocking me.”
~~o0o~~
Rose said the most outrageous things and still made him smile. He had to stop this. She deserved more. She could work for him. They could fuck themselves stupid, but that was as far as this could go. The past wouldn’t allow him to take things any further, though as far as Rose accompanying him to Argentina was concerned, he needed her there for his ponies and had in no way given up.
“I need you on the estancia.”
“And the team needs me on Isla Celeste.”
“The team’s horses are on my estancia. They travel around the world in the course of their polo duties, and my ranch is where they rest up. They’re there now, so that’s where you should be.”
“You know where my heart lies. You’re completely ruthless.”
“That, I am,” he conceded. He had to be. He couldn’t keep everyone safe on a diet of indecision.
“And shameless,” she added.
“And you are the most infuriating woman I ever met.”
“Good to hear.”
He could buy anything in the world, but Rose wasn’t for sale. He couldn’t have her simply because he wanted her. He couldn’t force her to go to Argentina with him. She added too much value to the team for him to fire her for defying him. His only option was to give her a reason she couldn’t refuse. “I have horses that really need your special touch.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” she exclaimed, her brogue exaggerated as she dealt him a healthy dose of sarcasm. “For a moment there, I thought you might need me.”
Argentinian Billionaire (Blood and Thunder 2) Page 8
