by Anne Mather
Heat flared under her skin as again instinct shouted a warning to beware.
His hold shifted and his thumb slid over the sensitive place between her thumb and forefinger. A spike of heat transfixed her. Her eyes widened as a tremor echoed through the secret recesses of her body.
‘You need to let me go.’ She lifted her chin higher, wishing she could see his eyes properly.
He inclined his head, and the breath she hadn’t known she held whooshed out. See? He probably just wanted something mundane like another bottle of wine for his table.
She opened her mouth to enquire when someone bumped her, propelling her towards the hard male torso before her.
Carys heard a muffled apology but barely noticed.
Large hands grasped her upper arms. In front of her stretched an expanse of exquisitely tailored elegance, that ultra-masculine chin with just the hint of a cleft and a pair of shoulders to make any woman sit up and take notice.
Shoulders just like…
Carys bit her lip. This had to end.
This was a stranger. So he had shoulders to die for and a jaw that seemed achingly familiar. The gold signet ring on his finger was one she’d never seen. And, despite the similar height, he was leaner than the man she’d known.
Another couple buffeted her, talking volubly as they passed. Suddenly she found herself plastered against a hard body that seemed all heat and raw strength. Her senses whirled in a giddy riot.
She imagined she could feel each muscle of his body against hers. Beneath the expensive cologne an elusive undertone of warm male skin tickled her nostrils and she inhaled sharply. He was too familiar, like a phantom from one of the endless dreams that haunted her.
His odd silence intensified her sense of unreality.
Then his hold shifted. A hand slid down her back, poised almost possessively just above her bottom, long fingers spread. Heat roared in the pit of her belly. The heat of desire. A sensation she hadn’t felt, it seemed, in a lifetime.
Her body responded to the ultra-masculine allure of his, softening, trembling—
‘I need to go.’ Carys jerked her head back from the muscled chest that drew her like a magnet. ‘Please!’
Her mouth trembled in a wobbly grimace, and to her dismay hot tears prickled her eyes. Part of her yearned crazily to succumb to his potent maleness.
Because he reminded her of the one man who had taught her the dangers of instant physical attraction.
She had to get out of here.
With a strength born of desperation, she wrenched herself free and stumbled back, off balance when he released her instantly.
Carys took a shaky step away, then another.
The man in the dark mask watched her, eyes unreadable, his body as still as a predator about to pounce.
Her throat squeezed tight in inexplicable panic. She opened her mouth but no sound came. Then she spun and blindly forced her way through the crowd.
Wearily Carys tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The last of the guests had finally gone and the vast ballroom was empty but for the staff tidying up and moving furniture.
The chirrup of a house phone snagged her attention. She found herself crossing her fingers that there were no more problems. Not tonight, correction, this morning. She was running on empty.
She was still unsettled by the memory of the stranger. The man who’d seemed so familiar yet couldn’t be.
‘Hello?’
‘Carys? Glad I caught you.’ She recognised the new guy on night duty at reception. ‘You’ve got an urgent call. I’ll connect you.’
Instantly all weariness vanished at the sound of those dreaded words ‘urgent call’. Carys’ stomach dropped and fear filled the void. Was it Leo? An illness? An accident?
She twisted a button on her jacket, waiting breathlessly for bad news as her nerves stretched taut.
It would be tonight of all nights that something went wrong. She should have found a way to get home earlier.
The click of the new connection was loud in her ears. As was the silence that followed, a waiting silence.
‘Sarah? What’s wrong? What’s happened?’
There was a pause in which she heard the echo of her own breathing.
Then a voice like black velvet emerged.
‘Carys.’
Just one word and every hair on her body rose. It was the voice that haunted her dreams. A voice that, despite everything, still had the power to thicken her blood, turning it to warm treacle.
Her knees buckled and she found herself sitting on the edge of a table that had been moved up against the wall.
Her fingers splayed over her throat in a desperate gesture of vulnerability.
It couldn’t be!
Her mouth opened and her throat worked, but no sound emerged.
‘We need to meet,’ said the voice of her past. ‘Now.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘WHO is this?’ Carys’ voice emerged as a raw croak.
It couldn’t be.
Not here. Not now.
Not after she’d finally convinced herself she never wanted to see him again. Fate couldn’t be so cruel.
Yet some wayward self-destructive impulse sent a buzz of excitement skimming along her nerves. Once she’d longed for him to make contact, to come after her, tell her he’d been wrong. Tell her…no, she wasn’t so credulous as to believe in such fantasies any more.
What did he want? Her hand tightened like a claw at her throat. A premonition of danger filled her, icing her blood.
‘You know who it is, Carys.’ Just the way he pronounced her name with that sexy Italian accent turned the word into a caress that melted her insides.
He’d always threatened her self-control. Carys remembered murmured enticements in that dark coffee voice and how he’d persuaded her to give up everything she’d worked for just for the privilege of being with him.
Fool!
She shivered and sat up straighter, berating herself.
‘Please identify yourself,’ she said tersely.
It couldn’t be him. He’d never follow her to Australia. He’d made that clear when she’d left with her tail between her legs.
But the memory of the stranger tonight at the ball, the masked man who’d made her think of him, battered at her disbelief. Wildly she shook her head, trying to clear a brain overloaded by exhaustion and stress.
Was she going mad? Seeing him, even hearing him, when she knew perfectly well he was ensconced in his oh-so-exclusive world of rich, elegant, aristocratic friends. Of high-flying business deals and blue blood and glamour.
Where people like her only provided brief amusement.
‘Don’t pretend not to know me, Carys. I have no time for puerile games.’ He paused as if waiting for her to rush into speech. ‘It’s Alessandro Mattani.’
Silence throbbed as she clutched the receiver. Her heart crashed against her ribs. She would have slid to the floor if she hadn’t already been sitting.
‘Alessandro…’
‘Mattani. I’m sure you recognise the name.’ His voice was sharp as a razor.
Recognise the name! Once she’d even hoped to share it with him.
A bubble of hysterical laughter threatened to explode from her stiff lips. Carys slapped her palm across her mouth, concentrating on deep breaths. She needed oxygen.
The room spun crazily and dark spots whirled in her vision.
A clatter jerked her back to full awareness, and she looked down as if from an enormous distance to see the phone had slipped from her nerveless fingers onto the table.
Alessandro Mattani.
The man she’d loved.
The man who’d broken her heart.
A sound caught her attention and Carys looked up, suddenly aware again of her surroundings. The last of the staff were leaving and waving goodnight.
Belatedly she lifted a hand in acknowledgement.
Dazedly she looked around. The stage was set for tomorrow’s fashion show. Enormou
s jardinières with arrangements of exotic orchids and jungle greenery had been strategically positioned as she’d instructed. The lights were dimmed and she was alone.
But for the voice on the other end of the line. The voice of her dreams.
Tentatively, as if reaching out to touch an untamed animal, Carys stretched her fingers to the phone. She lifted it, and a deep voice barked in her ear.
‘Carys?’
‘I’m here.’
Silence, but for the impatient hiss of indrawn breath.
‘No more games. I want to see you.’
Well, bully for him. She was past the stage of worrying what Alessandro Mattani wanted.
Besides, she wasn’t foolish enough to go near him again. Even now she didn’t trust her hard-won defences against the man who’d only had to smile and crook his finger to get what he wanted from her. She’d surrendered her job, all her plans, even her self-respect to be with him.
Carys stiffened her spine and braced her palm on the table beside her.
‘That’s not possible.’
‘Of course it’s possible,’ he bit out. ‘I’m just twelve floors away.’
Twelve floors? Her heart galloped faster. Here, in Melbourne? At the Landford?
Her gaze swerved to the edge of the dance floor, instinct and disbelief warring.
‘That was you tonight? At the ball?’ If she’d been less stunned, she might have cared about how much her strained voice revealed. But she was battling shock. She had no thought to spare for pride.
He didn’t answer.
Heat sparked low in her abdomen and washed through her like a flood tide. It had been him. He’d held her in his arms.
How often had she yearned for his embrace? Despite what she’d told herself about forgetting the past.
He’d held her and she hadn’t known him?
But she had, hadn’t she? Despite the new cologne, the paleness of his once-golden skin, the scar.
Fear jolted through her, stealing her breath.
He’d been hurt! How badly? Urgent questions clamoured on her tongue.
Shakily Carys gathered the tattered remnants of control. She ignored the unspoken questions, opting for the most important one.
‘What do you want?’ Her voice sounded stretched too thin, like beaten metal about to snap under pressure.
‘I’ve already told you.’ Impatience threaded his words. ‘To see you.’
She couldn’t prevent a snort of disbelief at his words. How times had changed.
Finally pride came to her rescue.
‘It’s late. I’ve had a long day and I’m going home. There’s nothing more to say between us.’ Tentatively she slipped her feet to the floor, waiting to see if her legs would collapse under her.
‘Are you sure?’ His words, soft and deep like the alpine eiderdowns they’d once shared, brushed across her senses. His voice was alive with erotic undercurrents.
She jerked upright.
Flame licked that secret needy place deep inside her, the place that had been cold and empty ever since she’d left him. The realisation drew her anger.
No, she wasn’t sure. That was the hell of it.
‘I’m in the presidential suite,’ he said after a moment. ‘I’ll expect you in ten minutes.’
‘You have no right to give me orders.’ Belatedly she found her voice.
‘You don’t wish to meet me?’ Incredulity coloured his tone. Had he never had a knock-back from a woman?
Certainly not from her. She’d been putty in his elegant, powerful hands from the instant she’d fallen head over heels for him.
‘The past is the past.’ At the last moment she prevented herself saying his name. She didn’t want the sound of it on her lips. It was too intimate, evoked too many memories.
‘Perhaps so. But I wish to meet you.’ His tone made it clear that he wasn’t about to go down on bended knee and beg her forgiveness.
Carys rubbed her forehead. The very thought of Alessandro, darling of the jet set, commercial power-broker and hundred percent red-hot macho Italian male on his knees before any woman was ludicrous.
‘You have ten minutes,’ he reiterated.
‘And if I don’t come?’
He took his time responding. ‘That’s your choice, Ms Wells.’ His formality in that silky smooth voice held more threat than any bluster. Or was that her imagination?
‘I have personal matters to discuss. I thought you’d prefer to do that in the privacy of my suite. Of course, I can see you instead during business hours tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘I understand you share an office with colleagues? Presumably they won’t be inconvenienced by our conversation.’
He left the sentence dangling and Carys bit her lip, imagining how her workmates would react to Alessandro and his personal matters.
‘No doubt your manager won’t mind you taking time off to deal with a private matter,’ he purred in that outrageously delicious accent. ‘Even though I understand you’re only here on an extended probation?’
Carys’ jaw dropped. He’d had her records investigated! How else could he know about her long probation period since she’d been employed without completing her qualifications?
Those employment details were supposed to be confidential.
Her defensive hackles rose as the old sense of inadequacy surfaced. Of not being good enough. Not making the grade. And more, of being cornered, facing an implacable, unstoppable force that threatened to overpower her.
Defeat tasted bitter on her tongue.
Or was that fear? Fear that, despite his initial rejection, Alessandro had come to take Leo from her.
Her shoulders tightened.
‘Ten minutes,’ she confirmed.
Alessandro stood at the full-length window, staring across the Yarra River to the lights of Melbourne’s cityscape.
He didn’t see them. Instead his brain conjured an image of blue-grey eyes, wide and apparently guileless.
He shifted as heat shot through his body straight from his groin at the memory of her soft body nestled against him.
From the moment he’d sighted her across the ballroom, he’d known. The awareness he’d experienced looking at her photo was nothing compared with tonight’s instant gut-deep certainty.
This woman was his.
Alessandro tossed back the espresso his butler had brewed, feeling the shot of caffeine in his blood.
His earlier flash of memory told him they hadn’t parted amicably. Hell, she’d walked out on him! No other lover had ever done that.
Yet he knew with absolute certainty there was still something between them. Something that accounted for the nagging dissatisfaction that had plagued him since the accident.
Why had they separated?
He intended to discover everything about the yawning blankness that was his memory of the months preceding his accident.
He refused to let her escape till he had answers.
From the moment he’d held her, the sense of unfinished business between them had been overwhelming. Even now he felt the low-grade hum of awareness, waiting for her.
There was more too. Not just the immediate sense of connection and possessiveness. There was an inner turmoil that surely must be long-dormant emotions.
He’d watched her, listened to her, and been dumbstruck by the intensity of his conflicting feelings.
Alessandro had harnessed all his willpower to drive himself to recover from his injuries and turn around the faltering family business. He’d blocked out everything but the need to haul the company from the brink of disaster. Everything else had been a pallid blur.
Until now no one had come close to breaking through his guarded self-possession. Not his step-mother, not the many women angling for his attention. Not his friends.
Despite his wide social circle, he was a loner like his father. The old man had isolated himself, focusing only on business after his first wife’s betrayal and desertion.
As a result Alessandro had learned the M
attani way early, concealing his boyish grief and bewilderment behind a façade. Over the years that façade of calm had become reality. He’d developed the knack of repressing strong emotions, distancing himself from personal vulnerability.
Until tonight. When he’d come face to face with Carys Wells. And he’d…felt things. A stirring of discontent, desire, loss.
He frowned. He had no time for emotions.
Lust, yes. He was no stranger to physical desire. That was easily assuaged. But the disturbing sensations churning in his belly were unfamiliar, caused by something more complex.
A knock sounded on the door. Grateful for the interruption to his unpalatable thoughts, Alessandro put down his cup and turned as the butler crossed the foyer.
Alessandro was surprised to register his shoulders stiffening, locking as tension hardened his stance.
Since when had he, Alessandro Mattani, experienced nerves? Even when the specialists had shaken their heads over his injuries, referring to complications and a long convalescence, all he’d felt was impatience to get out of hospital. Especially when he’d learned the impact his accident, so soon after his father’s death, had caused.
The commercial vultures had begun circling, ready to take advantage of the mistakes his father had made in those last months and of Alessandro’s incapacity.
‘Ms Wells, sir.’ The butler ushered her into the sitting room.
She stood as if poised for flight, just inside the door. Once more that shock of connection smacked him square in the chest. He rocked back on his feet.
Jerkily she lifted a hand to smooth her hair, then dropped it as she caught his scrutiny.
Tension, palpable and vibrating, strung out between their locked gazes.
Carys Wells looked out of place in the opulence of Melbourne’s most exclusive hotel suite. Unless, of course, she was here to provide a personal service to the occupant. Delivering a message or bringing room service.
Alessandro’s thoughts jagged on the sort of personal service he’d like her to provide.
It didn’t matter that he knew any number of more beautiful women. Clever, high achievers who combined chic style, business savvy and an eagerness to share his bed.
Something about Carys set her apart.
Her curves would horrify the perpetually dieting women he knew in Milano. Her dark hair was severely styled, if you could call scraping it back into a bun a style. Her make-up was discreet, and she wore a sensible navy suit that no woman of his acquaintance would be seen dead in.
