by Kim Lawrence
She reminded him of Nat, not that there was any physical similarity. Nat was beautiful, not plain, and his sister was tall, not tiny. Still, he’d not been there for Nat when she’d needed him, but he was here now.
‘What the hell...?’
The guy let out a frustrated bellow, flailing wildly, his arms windmilling as he was set down on his feet yards away from the cowering figure of the woman. Apart from her, he didn’t look so big—and obviously he didn’t feel it either, when he turned and saw Danilo standing between him and his victim.
The aggression in the man’s face diminished significantly but the wariness in his eyes was mingled with calculation as he held out his hands and smiled.
‘This is a misunderstanding...’ He spoke while moving in a direction that would give him access to the woman now hidden from his view behind Danilo.
Danilo negated his ploy by shadowing the move before allowing his glance to linger on the scratch that was seeping blood on the guy’s cheek. Good for her, he thought approvingly.
‘I don’t think so. Do you want me to call the police?’ he asked the woman without taking his eyes off the other man.
‘I just want to go home.’
The hoarse little whisper had a heartfelt sincerity that didn’t help Danilo’s struggle to resist the impulse to shake the guy until his teeth rattled. Then she sniffed and he almost lost it. Instead he moved to her side.
‘Or a hospital?’
‘She’s fine. Police...?’ The falseness in the laugh grated on Danilo. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, mate. This was just a misunderstanding. You know how it is. Something and nothing—sweetheart.’
In a heartbeat Tess tipped from relief to outright panic. What if this man believed him? What if he left her alone with bonkers Ben?
‘I am not your mate.’
It wasn’t until her rescuer spoke in a voice that held a twenty-below chill that Tess realised she had grabbed his arm in a death grip. His words made her feel better, but just to be sure she didn’t let go; instead she tightened her grip and moved in closer.
‘And to answer your question, no, I do not know how it is to force myself on a woman.’
‘She’s mine...’
Ben’s voice made Tess’s skin crawl. She shook her head in mute rejection. The denial locked in her throat, all she could do was squeeze her eyes closed to avoid the stare of Ben’s cold, creepy eyes, but not before it had loosened the lid on the box in her head marked Don’t deal—lose, bury, forget!
The deeply buried memory that escaped was so clear that for one disorientating moment Tess was sixteen again, cornered by the man her mum was dating. Watching helplessly as he locked the door, his smile and his soft, oily voice making her skin crawl and her insides chill as he told her they could have some fun. Tess knew she was lucky she never found out what his idea of fun entailed because it turned out that sleazy creeps did not find it fun to have their victim throw up all over their expensive new shoes!
‘You know, it’s been a long day,’ the man beside her drawled.
She clung to the sound of his voice, focusing on the faint attractive accent, letting it drag her free of the memories that even now made her feel unclean, but most of all angry because she had felt weak and helpless. ‘And I am not interested in a debate. However, we could move this discussion to the nearest police station?’
There was a silence followed by footsteps. Tess focused on the clean male scent of the man beside her and let it wash away the memory of the sour scent—a combination of sweat and cheap fragrance—that had emanated from her stalker.
The sound of footsteps had faded before her rescuer spoke again. ‘He’s gone. You can open your eyes.’
Italian... Tess speculated as she tilted her head to look up at the tall stranger. He’d have looked beautiful to her if he’d had a bad case of acne, but he didn’t. He was actually incredibly good-looking.
‘I could kiss you!’ Relief made her more painfully honest than normal, and saying what she was thinking always had been one of her faults. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t. I have the flu.’ She let go of his arm and patted the fabric and let out a long fluttering sigh. ‘I’m awfully glad he didn’t hit you.’
His crack of laughter made her smile too, and as their eyes brushed she realised that he wasn’t just good-looking, he was amazing!
He had the olive skin tone that went with jet-black hair, an angular face, dramatic chiselled cheekbones, high forehead, his face bisected by a straight nose, yet the austerity of his strong features was offset by an incredibly sensuous mouth.
His smile was pretty incredible too. It made her feel dizzy. But then he wasn’t smiling, he was frowning and she was still feeling dizzy; his dark features were swimming in and out of focus in a weird way.
‘It’s none of my business...’
So why are you making it your business? asked the exasperated voice in Danilo’s head.
Appreciating the meaning of the phrase weak with relief for the first time, Tess turned her head too quickly and felt the world spin.
‘But don’t you think maybe you should be a little more careful in your choice of boyfriends?’ he observed, tempering both his advice and his disapproval. He might feel he was speaking on behalf of a brother she might have somewhere, but he wasn’t and thank goodness for that. One little sister was enough... Two...? He hadn’t been able to keep the one he had safe.
At least this woman didn’t laugh at him the way Nat had or doubt his qualifications when it came to relationship advice. What Natalia didn’t understand was that actually he was perfectly qualified, because for a long time he’d been the man that brothers warned their sisters not to date.
This woman just looked at him blankly, eyes wide, as though he were speaking a foreign language. He allowed himself the luxury of cursing softly in his native tongue, relieved when he saw comprehension spread across her face.
‘No, he is...never...not...’
Through the rushing sound in her ears Tess could hear her own voice, then there was just the rushing.
Guilt and alarm grabbed at Danilo and he swore again, low and fluently under this breath, as he placed a steadying hand across her shoulders. She sagged like a rag doll and he wrapped his other arm around her middle. It was then he realised several things: she was shaking and, despite her petite appearance underneath the massive coat, she had curves. Only one fact was relevant.
‘You’re not going to faint.’
He said it in a way that at any other time would have made her laugh. Macho men who thought just saying something made it so always made her laugh. They generally didn’t know why she was laughing—alpha males so often had no sense of humour.
She didn’t laugh now though. Instead she leaned against the hand that was now pressed between her shoulder blades and hoped like hell he was right.
‘I’ll be fine.’ The world was swimming back into focus and, yes, he was still as impossibly good-looking.
It didn’t seem a very realistic statement, considering the unhealthy sheen of perspiration on her pale skin, but he approved of positive thinking, especially when the option was having an unconscious female on his hands.
‘Breathe deeply, in and out...no, not too deeply.’ He steadied her violent sway and left his arm around her waist while he pulled out his phone. He wondered if his plan to fly directly back to Rome was still realistic. ‘That’s better...’
She’d thought his eyes were brown, and they were incredibly dark, but now as he captured and held her gaze she realised they were midnight blue, like the night sky, and flecked with tiny points of silver that glittered like stars. From nowhere the phrase soul stripping came into her head, though actually clinical was more accurate.
She moistened her dry, cracked lips with her tongue and nodded. ‘I’m fine now.’
She looked a million miles from fine. ‘My car is coming. Where do you live?’
Tess, her heart still pounding though now with relief and not terror, heard hersel
f recite her address like some obedient lost child. ‘I don’t need a lift. It’s just around the corner.’ What else was around the corner? Bonkers Ben? She shuddered. The mocking nickname no longer worked in making him seem harmless and absurd. He’d been waiting for her...watching? Was he still watching?
The realisation he could extract himself from this little drama sooner rather than later sent a surge of relief through Danilo and for a split second he was sorely tempted to accept the rejection at face value.
Then she looked over her shoulder, the movement fear-filled and furtive—hell!
‘It’s on my way.’
‘It is?’ She suspected it was a lie but wasn’t about to call him on it. The thought of meeting up with her stalker sent a shudder through her.
Concern roughened the edges of his voice as he said softly, ‘You’re safe now.’
His voice pulled her back from the brink of panic; the unexpected gentleness in it made her want to cry.
‘Please don’t be nice,’ she begged. ‘I’ll cry. I know I’m being...’ Pathetic. ‘I’m not normally so—’ Tess brought her teeth down on her wobbling lower lip and blinked back weak tears. ‘He... Ben... He isn’t my boyfriend. He just thinks he is.’
Danilo dismissed her explanation with a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Not my business.’ And he had no desire to make it his business, he reminded himself, turning his head as his sister’s features superimposed themselves over the pale, pinched face of this young woman, producing a familiar knife thrust of guilt that he didn’t try to evade.
‘I have a sister not that much younger than you.’ The woman was a little older than he had first assumed. ‘And I hope if she ever needed—’ His sister had needed and he hadn’t been there.
The woman took a deep breath and Danilo’s habitual objectivity slipped as he watched her attempt to regain control. The effort to straighten her slender shoulders sent a jerky convulsive ripple through her entire body; the air left her lungs in a long gusty sigh, but not the tension.
Heavy lids shadowing his stare, Danilo was torn between reluctant admiration and irritation, his irritation reserved for the protective instincts he felt shift and tighten in his chest as a solitary tear escaped the swimming eyes lifted to his. Things got tighter as he watched it slide slowly down her cheek. He had never seen eyes quite that shade of golden amber before.
Her eyes, almond-shaped and framed by thick, spiky black lashes, lifted her face from plain. They were extraordinary. Still, she was not his responsibility.
‘Well, thank you. I’d be grateful if it’s not out of your way, but I’ll be fine now—really.’
The delivery started firm and slowly faded, ending on a definite wobble. She looked at him with eyes that made him think of the runt of the litter of golden retrievers his father’s favourite dog had produced.
Danilo, promised first choice of the puppies, had, against all advice, chosen the sickly-looking one who everyone had warned would not survive. But that little animal had gnawed its way into his heart with those eyes.
The dog had survived and was still rewarding his decision with unconditional love, though her coat was less glossy than it had been before she’d got old and stiff.
‘But if perhaps you could walk with me, if you’re heading that way?’ Tess was shaking again, her body seized by inner tremors she had no control over. She didn’t shrug off the hand that came to rest gently against her shoulder blades. She was glad of the contact while recognising she was acting like the sort of woman she despised: weak, malleable and in need of male support. And this particular male had an attitude that normally would have got under her skin.
Cut yourself a break, Tess, you’ve got the flu and you’ve had a run-in with your unhinged stalker.
CHAPTER TWO
‘I’M TESS.’ IT SEEMED only good manners to tell the man who had saved her from a situation that could have ended up with her being a crime statistic her name.
‘Raphael, Danilo Raphael.’
An angel’s name. Appropriate given the circumstances, though her guardian angel had the physical appearance of the fallen variety.
They had reached the end of the alley, where she hesitated. Danilo walked past her and out onto the identical-Victorian-house-lined street. ‘Right or left?’
Tess didn’t immediately respond because she was doing yet another mental regrade of his position on the gorgeous scale! She pressed a hand to her chest to alleviate the breathless sensation.
There were a number of people who could look pretty good in subdued light but a lot less that could look good spotlighted by the artificially white blanching glare of a street lamp. Her fallen angel could take the unkind illumination, probably because there was not a plane or angle on his crushingly handsome face that didn’t deserve to be lit up. It was flawless.
But he was not just a pretty face—the rest of him looked pretty awesome too. This was a man who didn’t need good lighting or perfect tailoring to set him apart from his fellow men!
As she paused, mouth slightly ajar, he raised a darkly defined brow questioningly. A slither of liquid heat washed through her, the effects of the fever obviously, as she gave her head a tiny shake and, feeling embarrassed, she stepped out, glancing nervously over her shoulder before tilting her head back to reply to his question.
It struck her for the first time that if she were looking for danger, then in a line-up she would dismiss the mild-looking, bespectacled creep who had been stalking her for the past months. Raphael, on the other hand, was not a man anyone would dismiss. He was the living, breathing photofit image of dark, brooding and dangerous to know.
Not just because he was a hundred feet tall and hard—he’d lifted Bonkers Ben as though he were a rag doll! Her stomach gave a tiny flip as she recalled the tensile strength in the fingers that had curved around her upper arm. This man had a dangerous vibe.
Mum always had said don’t judge a book by its cover, which had always struck Tess as ironic even when she was a kid considering how much trouble her parent went to to present the right image to the public. Today it was all about image. Was this rampantly male stranger the product of some image consultant’s efforts or did all that come naturally?
‘Right,’ she said, gesturing vaguely in that direction. The fact was she was never likely to know anything about this enigmatic man with his intimidatingly perfect profile beyond the fact that he had appeared at the right moment, and for that she would always be grateful. ‘It’s the fourth house along. The one with the red door.’
‘This is it.’
Danilo glanced at the row of names beside buttons on the door frame; either this building was larger than it looked or the homes within were the size of shoeboxes. ‘I’ll see you to your door.’
Tess had enough fight left in her to challenge his not open for debate attitude. ‘That’s really not necessary.’
As she spoke she realised that the long, low car she had been aware of in the periphery of her vision had stopped. Like the man himself, it looked expensive. She nodded in its direction. ‘It looks like your lift is here.’
He turned and raised a hand.
‘I’ll only be a moment.’
Tess watched as he strode over to the car and spoke for a moment to the driver. She was tempted to slip inside but being caught before she had closed the door on him would have been embarrassing, not to mention ungrateful. And there was the fact it was not exactly hard work to watch him; not only was he supremely elegant, but every move he made suggested a physical power that was riveting.
He returned a moment later and nodded towards the door. ‘After you.’
‘Fine,’ she sighed out as she stepped a little ahead of him into the hallway. ‘I’m on the top floor.’ The curved staircase and the encaustic tiles underfoot were about the only original features left in the building which had been unsympathetically ‘modernised’ back in the seventies.
‘Where is the lift?’
‘We don’t have one.’ The tri
ck, she told her shaking knees, was to take one step at a time—literally. This might take some time!
She had gone up the first three steps, the situation not made easier by the man behind her who was vibrating silent impatience, when she heard a soft growl.
His flight might not be an option now, but at this rate he’d be here half the night and she’d be on her knees by the time she got to the top floor. Sure, the woman was remarkably plucky, but he’d always thought plucky was another word for stubborn.
It was all a bit of a blur as one moment Tess was holding onto the bannister, and the next she was being casually lifted up into his arms. She grabbed the fabric of his jacket as he strode onwards and upwards.
‘Quite unnecessary,’ she gasped, sounding a bit like one of those heroines who fainted a lot and got rescued by dashing heroes—she gave a laugh. She was so not that girl!
‘I was losing the will to live.’
Tess kept her eyes straight ahead, aware of the occasional waft of warm breath on her cheek, trying to retain as much dignity as possible—a bit late for that! The hardness of his chest, the warmth, the false intimacy of the situation—all lent another layer of disorientation to what had been a very disorientating experience!
Outside her door he put her back down on her feet.
‘You’re very kind.’
His jaw clenched. ‘I am not kind.’
‘Well, I think you are.’ She fished in one of the deep pockets for her key. ‘So thank you, and goodnight.’
For the first time Danilo noticed there was something quite stubborn about her rounded chin. He found his eyes sliding lower down the column of her neck, the swanlike curve exposed now as she unfastened the top button of her ridiculous coat. She was too pale and too thin but her skin had a flawless, almost translucent quality. He scrutinised her with casual curiosity, wondering what she’d look like if she didn’t dress like a reject from a charity shop.
