An Impossible Attraction

by Elsa Winckler

  “No, I haven’t told Hannah. You know how she gets when the name Cavallo is mentioned. And I was away in London… Anyway, there was nothing to tell, really. Yes, he kissed me, but he’s a Cavallo, he can kiss any woman any time he wants to.”

  Caitlin smiled. “Ahh, now it makes sense. That kiss was the reason you decided to leave for London instead of coming home first?”

  Fed up with the whole conversation, Zoe nodded.

  “So, has he kissed you again?” Caitlin batted her eyelashes.

  “No, he hasn’t kissed me again. There will be no kissing him. Ever again.”

  “But you would like him to?”

  Zoe gulped down the rest of her tea and got up. “Yes, I’d like Dale Cavallo to kiss me again. But then, I’d probably like a number of attractive men to kiss me. I have to go, I’ll call you.” She tried a smile before she turned around to leave.

  But instead of making a grand exit, she saw Don and Dale standing right behind her, blocking her escape route. Between the twinkling in Don’s eyes and the storm in Dale’s, it was clear they had heard every word of her last comments.

  She opened her mouth to say something, realized nothing she could say would get her out of this mess, so she just slipped past them and made a beeline for the front door.

  *

  Zoe stood in front of the big windows in her flat. She was still so glad she had been able to buy this place in Green Point more than a year ago. It was close to Cape Town and close to the busy Waterfront, but it was far enough away that she was unaware of the daily hustle and bustle of city life. And to top it all, she had a lovely view of the Atlantic Ocean.

  Her flat was in one of the older buildings that had been renovated, and she was able to get it at a fair price. The rooms were big, airy, and both bedrooms also had a sea view.

  From outside she heard the low-pitched sound of Moaning Minnie, the name the locals had given the red and white lighthouse across the road because of the sound it made. It was May, the beginning of winter and misty outside tonight.

  She’d had a bath and was dressed in her flannel pyjamas, her favourite. She should have been in bed already. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day. But she couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier.

  The email she’d received from Dale’s secretary by late afternoon was short and to the point. The first hotel she was supposed to visit was in Clifton, the playground of the rich and famous. Clifton was about a fifteen-minute drive from Green Point, so she didn’t have to get up too early to be there on time.

  She was told she’d be “met” there and she was fretting over this word. Dale had stated very clearly that he was going to work with her. Did that mean he was the one she would see tomorrow?

  How on earth could she face him again after this morning? “Yes, I’d like Dale Cavallo to kiss me again,” she murmured the words that had been haunting her since she had uttered them. She couldn’t believe she’d told Caitlin that. And then to top it off, Dale had been standing right behind her, hearing every word.

  And, of course, by this time Caitlin would have told both her mother and Hannah about the kissing and the incident. And her mother hadn’t phoned her yet! Probably because she was planning an attack when Zoe would least expect it.

  Aarghh. She switched off the light in the sitting room. She was going to bed.

  There was a sound from her intercom near the front door. She looked at the time. It was nearly ten o’clock. Who would want to see her this time of night? She walked up to the front door and pressed the button.

  “Yes?” she said in a clipped voice.

  “Zoe?”

  Dale? Was it Dale? Surely it couldn’t be Dale? There was another buzz.

  She pressed the button again. “Dale?” she asked warily.

  “Yes, may I come up?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because… just open the damn gate, Zoe. Please?”

  Zoe pressed a hand to her stomach. Oh, my goodness. Dale was downstairs. He wanted to come up to her flat.

  Quickly, she pressed the button to unlock the gate downstairs and stood staring at her front door. She couldn’t move away. Only when he knocked on her door, did she realize she was in her flannel pyjamas and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Oh, what the hell. Let him see her like this. He would probably turn around and run. Which would be a very good thing.

  Chapter Seven

  She opened the door. And there he was. Nearly two metres of drop-dead gorgeous man. How was she supposed to—

  Before her befuddled brain could form another thought, he was inside her flat and had closed the door behind him. She backed up a few steps; he came closer. She tried to move again, but the wall was behind her and she stopped breathing.

  Slowly, he moved closer and closer until their toes met. He put his hands on the wall on either side of her body, effectively trapping her. His face was impossible to read. He stared down at her for what felt like ages.

  “So,” he finally said. “You would like me to kiss you again?”

  “That… that’s not what I said, I said—”

  “You said you’d like me to kiss you again. I was there. I heard the words.”

  Zoe closed her eyes so she could think. With him so close to her, it had become impossible to do. “I also said—”

  He bent his head so that they were cheek to cheek, his mouth right next to her ear. She could smell red wine on his breath. Delicious tingles swooped up and down her back.

  “I don’t want to hear that part again. Ever. No other man can kiss you, attractive or otherwise,” he whispered in her ear.

  His words robbed her of any rational thought. “Dale, please, I—” That was as far as she got.

  With a groan, his lips claimed hers. She gasped, trying to get air into her oxygen-starved lungs, but his tongue dove in and joined hers. At which point breathing became unimportant, really.

  Her hands landed on his upper arms, his scent filled her senses, and she was lost. Sensations raced through her body, heating her blood, sending her hormones into overdrive.

  She moved closer to him and his arms folded around her, pulling her flush against his body. He was all toned muscle and, where their bodies met, hard as a rock.

  Unsteady fingers released her ponytail from the elastic that was holding it in place and combed through her hair.

  Muttering, he buried his face in her hair. “You smell like rain. No one else smells like this, just you,” he whispered before he claimed her mouth again.

  His words inflamed her overstimulated senses further, and she lifted herself on her toes so she could curl her arms around his neck. She didn’t want this to ever end.

  Hands swept down her side, awakening every nerve ending in their wake. How was it possible to be twenty-seven and never to have experienced so much emotion in so short a span of time?

  Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, her brain was trying to be heard, was trying to tell her to push him away, but her body wasn’t paying any attention. Instead, it was begging to be touched, to be caressed. He obviously knew what he was doing, and her whole being was lapping up every sensual stroke.

  Restlessly, his hands moved beneath her top and he touched her naked flesh. The sensation of his hands on her inflamed skin buckled her knees and he pressed her back against the wall without lifting his mouth from hers. He parted her legs with his one knee and pressed his leg against her heat. Her pulse went into overdrive.

  He lifted his head and looked down at her. His breath was erratic, his eyes molten liquid. She shivered.

  Slowly, he unbuttoned her flannel jacket, never taking his eyes from hers. Talking, thinking, breathing became impossible. She could only feel—the heat of his fingers where they brushed against her skin, his unsteady breath against her face, his muscled upper arm rippling under her fingers.

  By the time he’d finished, she’d forgotten her own name. He moved the panels of the jacket to the side, put his hands again on either side of her head
on the wall, and stared down at her for endless minutes. Although he didn’t touch her, her body reacted to his heated gaze, her nipples hardened, her breasts felt heavy as if he were already touching them.

  “You’re so, so beautiful,” he whispered and bent down to kiss her mouth again while his hands remained on the wall behind her.

  Frustration clawed at her insides. Why didn’t he touch her, why didn’t he take her to bed, make love to her… But then slowly reason intruded through the fog of need. She had to work with him, for him, she shouldn’t be kissing him, let alone be standing nearly naked in front of him. What was she thinking?

  “Dale.” She tried to speak but his lips wouldn’t let hers go.

  *

  From far away, Dale heard Zoe’s voice, but he was so focused on kissing her, he didn’t want to listen. He shouldn’t have come here tonight. He shouldn’t be kissing her, shouldn’t have opened her jacket because now he’d seen her, touched the velvet texture of her skin, and he didn’t think he would ever be able to forget it.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so hard for a woman. All he could think of was getting as close to her as was humanly possible, to bury himself so deep inside of her they would become one. Because he was afraid that was the only way he would be able to still this desperate need that was wreaking havoc inside of him.

  Her hands pushed against his upper body and, gasping, he lifted his head.

  “Dale, we can’t do this,” she whispered shakily and closed the panels of her pyjama top.

  He still had her trapped between his arms and for one wild moment he wanted to ignore her words, wanted to pick her up and take her to bed.

  But his sanity returned, and not a minute too soon. What the hell was he doing? With a curse, he turned and moved away from her.

  “Dale,” she said again and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t.” He growled without looking at her. “If you touch me now, I won’t be able to stop.”

  “Oh,” she said, dropped her hand, and her voice caught in her throat.

  “Bathroom?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  He should talk to her but needed some distance first.

  “First—” She cleared her throat and tried again. “First door to your right,” she said.

  He nodded and walked towards the door. He needed a moment to get himself under control. But inside the neat little bathroom, he realized this was so not the right place for that to happen. Her scent lingered in the air, making it impossible to breathe. And to make matters worse, a selection of tiny, black satin and lace panties was hanging on a line above the bath.

  Damn it. Now he knew exactly what she wore under her clothes. The woman was driving him insane and she didn’t even know it. Swearing, without consciously deciding what he was going to do, he plucked one of the panties off the line and pushed it inside his trouser pocket. He leaned on the washbasin with his hands, willing his body to behave.

  But the panties in his pocket were like a living, breathing Zoe stuck to his body.

  Swearing again, he opened the door and stormed out. She was standing in the kitchen, her hands still holding her pyjama top in place.

  “This shouldn’t have happened,” she said, her face expressionless. “We have to work together and—”

  “You’re right,” he interrupted and rubbed his face. “I know,” he said and walked past her to the front door.

  He opened the door and turned back.

  “If you’re worried that this will change my mind to use your firm for the job, you can relax,” he said cynically.

  She’d followed him and was standing just behind him, her head held high, her hands still trying to keep her jacket in place.

  “That is not what this is about, and you know it,” she said softly. “You also know this shouldn’t have happened.”

  While she was talking, the one side of her jacket slipped, leaving the top part of her creamy breast visible.

  And that was all that was needed for desire to race through his blood again.

  He put out his hand and touched her face. “You’re right,” he said solemnly. “But I don’t have to like it.” He looked down as his hand folded around her near-naked breast. On her indrawn breath, he flicked the beaded nipple with his thumb before he dropped his hand.

  “Oh,” she whispered, and her mouth fell open.

  Swearing, he bent down and gave her a soft kiss. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered and kissed her again.

  Her hands pushed against him and he lifted his head.

  “Now look what you’ve done.” He groaned and looked down. Without her hands holding the jacket in place, there was nothing keeping it from falling open.

  “You did this!” she called out in frustration and grabbed the sides of her jacket. “Just go, please?” She hissed and glared at him.

  “I’m going, but I’ve taken a keepsake,” he said and pulled the panties partly from his pocket.

  He hadn’t intended to tell her, but he wanted to leave her feeling as unsettled as he was at the moment. Damn it, he didn’t have to be the only one suffering.

  And on her indrawn breath, he grinned and left. “Lock the door,” he called over his shoulder.

  *

  Furious with Dale, but mostly with herself, Zoe locked her front door and buttoned up her pyjama top. What was she thinking kissing Dale Cavallo like that, letting him touch her the way he had?

  Muttering and cursing, she switched off the lights and stormed to her bedroom. She wasn’t thinking, of course. Around him, thinking became difficult, impossible, really.

  Pacing up and down in her bedroom, she replayed every minute of the time he’d been in her flat. He’d probably had one glass of wine too many. That was perhaps his excuse. But she’d had none. Absolutely none. She’d been stone-cold sober. She should have ordered him to leave, not given in wantonly to his first caress.

  She closed her eyes, her body vividly remembering every stroke of his hands. Oh, hell, this was not helping. He had taken her panties, put them in his pocket, and left with them. And desire was back, stirring her blood, heating her body until she found it difficult to breathe. She should be outraged, indignant, not turned-on, damn it!

  She jumped up. He was a Cavallo, one of the richest men around. She should remember that. To him, she was just another woman in a long line of conquests. There was no way he could be seriously interested in her. Why on earth he’d come here tonight was beyond her. He was from such a different world, why would he waste time on someone like her? Keeping the help happy?

  Finish this job as soon as possible—that was what she should keep reminding herself. And that meant she had work to do. There was no way she was going to sleep anyway, and some ideas for the interior for the Cavallos’ hotel had been swirling around in her head. That was of course for the few milliseconds she hadn’t been thinking about Dale.

  Maybe if she could come up with something that could wow him, she wouldn’t have to go to the Seychelles with him.

  Because she knew—going to an exotic island with Dale Cavallo would be a very bad idea.

  Chapter Eight

  Where the hell was she? Dale stopped pacing and for the umpteenth time looked at his watch. His secretary had assured him that she’d sent Zoe an email, giving her the time and address of this hotel.

  And okay, it was only a few minutes past ten, but why wasn’t Zoe on time?

  He was in a foul mood and having to wait for the woman responsible for that was not improving his disposition. Sleep had evaded him most of the previous night and he placed the blame squarely on her shoulders. And the damn black panties…

  Swearing, he tried to breathe normally. What made him go to her place last night he didn’t want to dwell on too much. Blame the wine, blame her telling her sister she’d like to kiss him again, blame the fact that she also mentioned kissing other men. He didn’t even know her yet, but just the thought of other men putting their hands on her had him
grinding his teeth. So, like a caveman, he had to somehow stake his claim.

  This situation was fast becoming out of control. He couldn’t do his work, he couldn’t even get excited about cycling—the one thing that normally helped him to relax. And to top it all, he hadn’t even looked at another woman since he’d seen Zoe for the first time. She was taking over his life and he didn’t like it one bit.

  She was doing this job because it was good for her firm, he shouldn’t forget that. He closed his eyes and remembered the silkiness of her skin, the heat of her mouth. Damn it to hell. He rubbed his face. He didn’t do relationships, he kept forgetting that.

  Relationship. That word again. Damn it, he didn’t want a relationship with anyone, least of all with a woman who seemed to be able to turn him inside out even when she was kilometres away.

  The mess with Tammy confirmed what he’d believed—women could fake interest in him if they wanted something badly enough. And they always seemed to want something.

  True relationships where respect and love played a role were rare. Yes, his parents had been married for forever and it was obvious they still adored one another. But he didn’t know anyone else who’d stayed married to the same person for long.

  Don’s marriage obviously didn’t count at this point. He was completely smitten at the moment, but then he’d only been married for a few months.

  Although Caitlin was beautiful, Dale couldn’t help wondering whether Don wouldn’t at some point fall for one of the many gorgeous women they met on a regular basis.

  Thinking about Zoe this often over such a long period of time was plain scary. Somehow he’d have to distance himself from her. Hell, he didn’t even have to work with her. There were other employees who normally consulted with outside contractors, and that was exactly what she was—an outside contractor. One who’d taken on a job she didn’t want to do in the first place because she knew it would further her career. She had even been upfront about her reasons. Maybe if he started thinking of her as pure business, his body wouldn’t keep taking over his brain.