He hit the water in a fast, shallow dive, coming up halfway across the long pool. For the next half hour, he swam as if the fiends of hell were after him, tearing up and down to wear off the adrenaline left over from the incident on the headland. That it also helped subdue his growing need to do more than merely guard his guest was surely all to the good.
Dana was asleep when he finally surged up onto the side of the pool and climbed out. She didn’t stir as he picked up his robe from the chaise where he’d left it and dried his face. With it in his hands, he stood gazing down at her.
The lingering twilight that came as the sun went down had slowly turned to dusk darkness. Even in that dim light, her hair seemed to glow. There was such purity in her features that it sent an odd, half-forgotten tenderness curling around his heart. He had an almost irresistible urge to kneel beside her and wake her with a kiss.
He might have if Guaio hadn’t been stretched out alongside her, watching him with unblinking distrust.
The cat had good reason, of course.
It would be as well, Andrea thought, to let Dana sleep. She was jet-lagged and exhausted, and there would be plenty of time for her to adjust to Italian hours. He would return to wake her later, when he had showered and changed.
By the time he left his room again, the helicopter had arrived with the order from the boutique, settling onto the well-lit helipad built to accept a second chopper along with his that sat there.
The noise roused Dana, no doubt, for she was sitting up when he rejoined her on the terrace. The lights in the pool also had been turned on, as had those that marked the terrace levels and steps. The accusing look she turned on him was easily seen in their glow.
“Don’t you look spiffy,” she said in aggrieved tones as she allowed her gaze to rest briefly on the black pants he wore with a gray polo shirt and black sandals.
“Grazie.” It was ridiculous how pleased he was she’d noticed, no matter how it might be expressed.
“So how long did you leave me out here, dead to the world?”
“Not that long,” he returned in soothing tones before nodding toward the helipad. “The order from the boutique has been delivered. If you like, you may now also look—ah, spiffy.”
“You mean it’s here? Already?”
She didn’t sound at all excited as she turned toward where Luisa and Tommaso were carrying boxes into the house that had been offloaded from the arriving helicopter. He might have known, though he hoped she would be pleased when she saw their contents. “I asked for immediate delivery in case you wanted to change before dinner, though this is not necessary in any way.”
“It’s dinnertime then?”
A corner of his mouth tilted in a sympathetic smile for the confusion in her eyes, as if she was a little disoriented from her nap as well as being unused to the level of service he commanded. “Not for an hour or so, perhaps more,” he answered. “You must take all the time you wish to make ready.”
“I’d rather not keep anyone waiting,” she said, and pushed off the chaise.
Andrea put out a hand to catch her in case she was unsteady on her feet. She didn’t require his aid, but gave him a small smile of appreciation anyway. A moment later, she walked away into the villa.
He stood quite still with his gaze on the straight line of her back, the slight sway of her hips, the way her hair moved on her shoulders. It was only after she disappeared through the doorway that he realized he was still holding out his hand as if trying to keep her with him.
~ ~ ~
It was too much, the clothing sent from the boutique, all of it ultra-chic and far more expensive than was at all necessary.
Dana stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the items strewn over her bed, unearthed from the tissue-paper lined boxes that were now stacked on the floor. The jeans sported designer labels and would fit like a second skin. The T-shirts were adorned with tucks and ruffles, buttons and bling. There were linen sheaths with matching jackets in pastel colors which she’d certainly never ordered, and more bits of lingerie than she’d owned in her life. Added to the clothing was a gorgeous cosmetic bag containing enough makeup and hair products for a half dozen females.
She wasn’t going to be on the island long enough to wear a fraction of what lay before her.
Was she?
It would have to be sent back. That’s all there was to it. She could barely afford even one of the T-shirts, much less all the rest.
Why couldn’t Andrea have just done as she asked? She was sick of the jeans she had on, longed to be clean from the skin out. Once she’d come to terms with the idea of him ordering clothes for her, she’d begun to look forward to showering and changing.
He had thought to add a hairbrush to the list. Amazing. She touched a fingertip to the polished wooden handle, ran it over the boar bristles.
And perfume, too. Without any real intention of using it, she picked up the small spray bottle, removed its gold cap and sent a fine mist of the scent into the air.
Lovely, and exactly what she would have chosen if she’d been willing to splurge on real perfume in the first place. She’d never used anything other than cologne in her life.
Resolutely, she put the perfume bottle down. She picked up a T-shirt in pale lime green with a design in pink and blue brilliants around the scooped neckline, seeing that it matched a pair of crop pants in white with lime cuffs edged with more brilliants.
She put it down again.
No.
She couldn’t.
Yet Andrea had looked so very handsome on the terrace just now, with his impeccable grooming and casual-chic shirt and pants. Not that he’d been as stunning as in that miniscule black speedo; the sight of him poised on the side of the pool, every long, perfect muscle gilded by sunlight, might be permanently imprinted in her mind. But still. She really hated the idea of sitting down to dinner in what she had on. Truth to tell, it was not only a little grubby but no longer fresh after being on her body so long.
Maybe if she chose a couple of the plainest outfits and just one of the lovely sheath dresses she wouldn’t have to take out a major loan to pay for them?
When she appeared in the living room a half hour later, she wore a peach linen sheath and a pair of thong sandals with their vamps set with pearls and tiny polished sea shells. Her hair was freshly shampooed and held back from her face with a pearl clip, and she walked in a faint cloud of scent with a soft undertone of moss and roses. Her smile as she met Andrea’s eyes was rueful, since she knew she had never looked better in her life.
“Ravishing,” he said with what appeared to be warm, even heated, appreciation in the darkness of his eyes. “This is good, what I ordered, no?”
“This is good, yes,” she said, then clicked her tongue in exasperation for how easily she had followed his lead. “I mean no! It’s not good. It’s too much.”
He shrugged. “For a woman such as you, there is no such thing.”
“If you are saying I asked for more than I—”
“No, no. You did not ask for enough.” He moved to pour the ruby-colored wine that waited on a side table. Turning to hand her a glass, he went on. “I only meant to say you deserve whatever there is, and far more besides.”
“I don’t know how you figure that.”
He glanced down at Guaio that had glided into the room behind her and was now winding around her ankles. “You prevented our friend here from becoming lost in the fog, which in turn saved me from annihilation by Bella. You have endured all manner of frights and inconveniences without hysterics. Providing a few items for your comfort is the least I can do.”
How could she argue with that? She’d only wind up sounding as if she wanted more assurances or, heaven forbid, compliments. She sipped her wine, hoping that would help conceal the flush that burned its way to her hairline.
Dinner was a sumptuous meal that began with delicately flavored vegetable pasta and artichoke salad, continued with veal scaloppini and ended with chee
se and fresh fruit. A different wine was served with each course, all of them equally delicious.
Dana was not used to wine at dinner, so was wary of the effect. She need not have worried. The relaxed pace of the meal prevented any sense of intoxication. She felt pampered, mellow and slightly euphoric, instead, though she suspected it was the company more than the wine that caused the last. That she was on a private island, the guest of a ridiculously wealthy Italian who thought she was in danger was like a dream. She would wake up soon and have a good laugh at her weird imagination.
Adding to the surreal effect was the presence of Guaio at the table. Well, or rather the closest thing to it since he had his own small table of gold-plated metal with a pair of ceramic bowls inset into the surface, one holding bottled water and the other cat food that appeared to be topped with caviar.
Despite this elegant dining accommodation placed between Andrea’s chair and her own, the cat seemed to prefer bits of veal from the table above him. He demanded them in querulous tones and Dana obliged, partly for the fun of watching him accept her offering while ignoring those from Andrea, but also because feeding him helped ease the awkwardness that lingered between them.
“You will spoil him,” Andrea observed, watching her slip Guaio a bit of brie from the dessert board that also held raspberries and sliced peaches.
Dana looked up with a laugh. “You have got to be kidding.”
“Hand-feeding him? Allowing him to con you into sharing half your meal?”
“He looks to me as if he’s quite used to it.”
He tipped his head. “With Bella only.”
She thought for an instant he meant he had no intention of pandering to a cat. That was before she caught the grim look on his face. “Not with her husband? I thought you said they were fighting over him.”
“No affection comes into it, if that’s what you think. The truth is Rico is jealous of Guaio. I did tell you Bella fears he will do away with him.”
“It still seems unbelievable.”
“People do strange things when involved in a divorce. Everything becomes a battle of wills and egos, and of making certain injury is returned for injury.”
She gave him a straight look. “That sounds as if you speak from experience.”
“I have never been married or divorced, if this is what you mean.”
She shouldn’t have said such a thing, but couldn’t be sorry for it. She had the answer to a question that had bothered her from the minute they reached the island. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It was my parent’s divorce years ago that I spoke of, also those of too many friends.”
“I suppose it goes with the territory.”
“Being Italian, you mean? I assure you divorce is no more frequent here than in the States.”
She gave a quick shake of her head. “I only meant it seems to go with wealth. Building something together, working toward a better life for their children and each other, is never a necessity for those who have it. There is less likelihood, or so it seems, of becoming true partners, a couple facing their triumphs and failures, joys and sorrows together.”
“And do you speak of this partnership from experience?” he asked, his eyes tightening at the corners.
“Only from the marriage of my parents, so far,” she said with wry honesty.
“Then you are fortunate in having been brought up in a home with such harmony.”
It was true enough, as Dana well knew. She had just never looked at it from quite that angle.
The meal came to an end. Andrea suggested a move into the living room for after-dinner coffee while Luisa cleared the dining table. As Dana rose and lead the way, he followed close behind her.
“You wear the perfume I ordered for you, I think,” he said, his voice rich with satisfaction.
“I couldn’t resist, though I should have.”
“Most definitely you should not. It suits you perfectly, as I suspected it would.”
He was so pleased with himself it was almost comical. He had good reason, but it was still a bit trying. “Of course, the bottle was rather small,” she said with the faintest of shrugs.
“Was it?” A groove appeared between his eyes.
“Tiny. Hardly more than a sample.”
He muttered an oath under his breath. Reaching into his pocket, he brought out his phone and began to thumb the screen.
“No!” She shot out her hand to snatch the cell phone from his grasp.
“What are you doing?” He looked more surprised than angry, to the point that he made no attempt to regain his property.
“You are downright dangerous with this thing,” she said, thumping it down on a table next to where they had come to a halt. “You don’t need it right now.”
“But I must take care of this problem.”
She sighed, tried to control a smile and failed. “There is no problem, Andrea. Even I know an ounce of perfume comes in a small bottle.”
“Not,” he answered, “if I say otherwise. You may have a liter of this fragrance if you like it.”
“A liter.”
“Two liters. Or even a gallon.”
“I don’t need a drop more than I have already, okay? I was only teasing. Everything else was so over the top, except for this little one ounce bottle—”
“When I have my phone back, you will have enough to bathe in.”
He was so serious, so arrogantly determined to please that she laughed with a quick shake of her head. “I don’t think you’d like that, as you’re the one who would have to endure the after-effects.”
“Then again, cara,” he said with an answering smile curling the finely molded lines of his mouth. “I can think of a situation where I might like it very much.”
She suspected he was teasing her in his turn. The trouble was she could not be sure. He might also be bored with being stranded here, therefore ready for a mild flirtation to pass the time. They were alone, she was available, and he had, after all, gone to considerable expense to see that she was presentable.
“I don’t believe I will wait for the coffee,” she said abruptly. “I’m still rather tired in spite of my nap. I’ll call it a night, if you don’t mind.”
“Certo,” he said, sounding very Italian for the first time in hours. His gaze searched her face as if to verify her claim. “You have everything you need?”
“And then some.” Wry humor threaded her voice.
“I will walk you to your room then.”
“There’s no need. I have my escort,” She tipped her head toward Guaio who had followed them from the dining room and sat nearby, watching her every move with his intent blue stare.
She thought something very like disappointment flashed across Andrea face. If so, it was banished just as quickly, for his features reflected only the politeness of a host as he said goodnight.
Had leaving the company of an interesting man that way been prudent or merely foolish? Dana pondered that question long after she closed the door of her room behind her. Maybe she was giving herself too much credit by assuming her host might be coming on to her. There had been little outward sign earlier. He hadn’t checked out her cleavage so obviously that she caught him at it; hadn’t leered at her over his wine glass or tried to fondle her beneath the table.
Still, there had been something between them, a constant zing of awareness that kept her on edge every moment she was around Andrea Tonello.
It could be she was the only one who felt it, of course. And what would that mean?
She couldn’t sleep. Either because of that nap or the crazy circumstances she was in, she lay staring into the darkness, listening to the quiet creaks and pops of the old house and endless wash of the sea beyond her open window. The events of the day shifted through her mind over and over: the moment when the black sedan almost ran her down, the sight of her rental car plunging over the cliff, the way she had been tricked and brought here, and the moment when she and
Andrea had been under fire out there on the headland. She felt as if she had endured a week of incredible happenings instead of a single day.
A cat was behind it all, or so Andrea said. How farfetched was that?
Yet Guaio was here, and he was obviously no ordinary feline. Would she have believed what Andrea told her otherwise? Would she have accepted the reason he gave for whisking her here to his island home, or only laughed in his face?
She could have slipped away this afternoon while he swam laps in the pool, or at least given it a good try. No one had been watching. She might have reached the harbor and either stowed away on a boat leaving for the mainland or stayed hidden until she could slip onto the ferry unseen.
There was a ferry she was certain, for she had watched it plow its way to the island and then leave again. What she didn’t know was whether it ran every day or only once or twice per week.
She had no money, it was true, but it had crossed her mind that Andrea’s wallet might have been left behind in the pool house. Though it would have gone against everything she had been taught or stood for, she could easily have made a quick detour to raid it.
Why hadn’t she done any of that? Why had she simply closed her eyes and went to sleep there on the terrace?
A large part of it was her policewoman’s certainty that she could take care of herself, thank you very much, while also making certain no crime was committed against man or beast. Beyond that was her ever-growing curiosity, the need to know exactly what was going on and how she figured into it. She was inclined to investigate a bit, really, to discover if everything was the way it had been explained to her.
She also needed to know if her life was actually in danger. The best way to discover that seemed to be to remain on the island. That should also allow her to find out how the fight over the cat ended.
All these things figured into her lack of action, yes. But was there something more?
She was no naive twenty-something, looking at this situation as a thrilling adventure complete with an Italian stud as rich as he was hot. That kind of spontaneity was not her usual response to anything.
The Amalfitano's Bold Abduction (The Italian Billionaires Collection) Page 8
