Rafe's Temporary Fiancée (The Dante Inferno: The Dante Dynasty Series: Book 6)

by Day Leclaire

  “You’ve corrupted her,” Larkin accused. “You’re going to make her fat.”

  “I’m trying to keep from getting eaten. There’s another full moon tonight.”

  “She’s not a wolf,” Larkin muttered.

  “And you’re a lousy liar.”

  “I’ll have to work on that.”

  “Don’t.” A terseness drifted through the word. “I was married to an expert, so you have no idea how much I appreciate the fact that you don’t lie.”

  For some reason his pronouncement had the opposite effect of what he’d intended. She shot to her feet and faced him with a desperate intensity. “You’re wrong. I am a liar. My being here is a lie. Our relationship is a lie. And I’ve told you any number of lies of omission. If you knew the truth about me, you’d throw me out right now. This minute.” She shut her eyes. “Maybe you should. Maybe Kiko and I should leave before this goes any further.”

  Chapter Five

  Larkin waited anxiously for Rafe’s response. To her surprise, he didn’t say a word. Instead, she heard him pour a glass of wine. The instant she opened her eyes, he handed it to her.

  “I believe lying by omission is called dating,” he explained gently. “No one is completely honest when they date. Otherwise no one would ever get married. All of that changes once you’re foolish enough to say ‘I do.’”

  “Marriage equals truth time?” Is that what he’d discovered when he’d married Leigh?

  “Let’s just say that the mask comes off and you get to see the real person. Since we’re not getting married, that shouldn’t be a problem for us. Relax, Larkin. We’re all entitled to our privacy and a few odd secrets.”

  His comments acted like a soothing balm and she sank onto her seat at the patio table, allowing herself to relax and sip the wine he’d poured. The flavor exploded on her tongue, rich and sultry, with a tantalizing after bite to it. “This is delicious.”

  “It is, isn’t it? Primo got a couple of cases in last week and spread them out among the family to sample. It’s from a Dante family vineyard in Tuscany that belongs to Primo’s brother and his family.”

  “Huh.” She went along with the drift from turbulent waters into calmer seas, even though her intense awareness of him followed her there. “And does his brother’s family have that whole Inferno thing going on, too?”

  “I don’t know. It’s never come up in discussion. Though I suspect most of the Dantes are fairly delusional when it comes to The Inferno.”

  Rafe settled into the seat beside her and stretched out his long legs. He was close. So deliciously close. Her body seemed to hum in reaction, flooded with a disconcerting combination of pleasure and need.

  “You still don’t believe it exists, despite . . .” She held out her hand, palm upward.

  He hesitated, shrugged, then cut into his steak. “That’s what we’re going to spend the next month or so figuring out.”

  Careful and evasive. It would appear she wasn’t the only one suffering from a case of caginess. “Are you just saying that so I’ll stick with the job?” she asked, tackling her salad.

  “Pretty much.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Devious man.”

  A companionable silence fell while they ate their dinner, though she could also feel a distracting buzz of sexual awareness. It seemed to hum between them, flavoring the food and scenting the air. She forced herself to focus on the meal and the easy wash of conversation, which helped mitigate the tension to a certain extent. But there was no denying its existence or the gleam of awareness that darkened Rafe’s eyes to an impenetrable forest-green. It added a unique dimension to every word and interaction, one that teetered on the edge of escalation. Or it would have if they hadn’t both tiptoed around the various land mines.

  After they’d finished eating, they cleared away the dishes and returned to the patio with their wine. Larkin released a sigh, half contentment, half apprehension. “Okay. Story time,” she announced. “Explain to me again how this is supposed to work.”

  “Winner of the coin toss asks the first question. Loser answers first.”

  “Ouch. That could be dangerous.”

  “Interesting, at the very least.” He tossed the coin. “Call it.”

  “Heads.”

  He showed her the coin, tails side up. He didn’t hesitate. “First question. Tell me about Kiko—and I mean the truth about Kiko. Since she’s going to be around my family for the next month or two, I think I deserve the truth.”

  It was a reasonable question, if one she’d rather have avoided. “Fair enough. To be honest, I don’t know what she is. She’s definitely not pure wolf, despite her appearance. I’d guess she’s probably a hybrid wolf dog.” Rafe’s eyebrows shot upward and Larkin hastened to add, “But I don’t think she’s very high-content wolf. She has too many of the traits of a dog, as well as the personality.”

  “Explain.”

  Larkin winced at the gunshot sharpness of his response and chose her words with care. “Some people breed dogs with wolves, creating hybrids. It’s highly controversial. Gran was violently opposed to the practice. She considered it ‘an accident waiting to happen’ and unfair to both wolves and dogs, since people expect the hybrids to act like dogs.” At his nod of understanding, she continued. “But how can they? They’re an animal trapped between two worlds, living in a genetic jumble between domestication and wild creature. So both wolf and dog get a bad rep based on the actions of these hybrids whenever they respond to the ‘wild’ in their makeup.”

  “Got it,” he said, though she could tell he wasn’t thrilled with her explanation. “What about in Kiko’s case? How likely is she to respond to her inner wolf?”

  “She’s never harmed anyone. Ever.” Larkin leaned on the word. “Can she? Potentially. So can a dog, for that matter. But she’s more likely to run than confront, especially now that she’s so old.”

  “How did you end up with her?”

  Larkin switched her attention to the animal in question and smiled with genuine affection. Kiko lay on the patio, her aging muzzle resting on her forepaws, watching. Always watching. Alert even at this stage of her life. “We think Kiko must have been adopted by someone who either couldn’t take care of her or were living someplace where they couldn’t keep her because of her mixed blood. They dumped her in the woods when she was about a year old. Gran found Kiko caught in an illegal trap, half-starved.”

  He shot a pitying look in the dog’s direction. “Poor thing. I’m amazed she let your grandmother anywhere near her.”

  “Gran always had a way with animals.” She spared him a flashing smile. “And Kiko didn’t have much fight in her by the time Gran arrived on the scene. The trap had broken Kiko’s leg. She was lucky not to lose it.”

  “Did your grandmother set the leg herself?”

  Larkin shook her head. “That would have been well beyond her expertise. She took Kiko to a vet who happened to be a close personal friend. He set the leg and advised Gran on the best way to care for Kiko. It was either that or have her put down. Since neither Gran nor I could handle that particular alternative, we kept her.”

  “And my family? How safe will they be with her?”

  Larkin leaned forward and spoke with urgent intensity. “I promise, she won’t hurt you or your family. She’s very old now. The longest I’ve heard of these animals living is sixteen years. Most live fewer than that. Kiko’s twelve or thirteen and very gentle. Except for the occasional urge to howl, she’s quiet. Just be careful not to corner her so she feels trapped. Then she might turn destructive, if only in an attempt to escape what she perceives as a trap.” Pleased when he nodded his acceptance, she asked a question of her own. “What about you? No dogs or cats or exotic pets?”

  He shook his head. “We had dogs growing up, but I’d rather not own a pet.”

  She couldn’t even imagine her life without a four-legged companion. “Why not?”

  “You’re talking about taking responsibility
for a life for the next fifteen to twenty years. I’d rather not tie myself down to that sort of commitment.”

  It didn’t take much of a leap to go from pets to a wife. If he’d thought owning a pet was an onerous commitment, how must it have felt to be married to Leigh? Larkin suspected she could sum it up in one word.

  “I guess Kiko isn’t the only one who doesn’t like feeling trapped,” Larkin murmured. “Is that what marriage felt like?” Or was it just marriage to Leigh?

  “It didn’t just feel that way. That’s what it was.” He raised his glass in a mocking salute. “One good thing came out of it. I realized I wasn’t meant for marriage. I’m too independent.”

  That struck her as odd, considering his tight-knit family bonds. In the short time she’d known the Dantes, one aspect had become crystal clear. They were all in each other’s business. Not in a bad way. They just were deeply committed to the family as a whole. And that just might explain Rafe.

  “What made you so independent?” she probed. “Is it an attempt to keep your family at a distance, or something more?”

  He tilted his head to one side in open consideration. “I don’t feel like I need to hold my family at a distance. At least, I didn’t until this whole Inferno issue came up.” He frowned into his glass of wine. “I’m forced to admit they do have a tendency to meddle.”

  “So if it’s not your family that’s made you so independent, where did it come from?”

  He returned his glass to the table and shook his head. “That’s more than the allotted number of questions. Four or five by my reckoning. If we’re playing another round, you have to answer one for me first.”

  “Okay, fine.” She slid down in her chair and sighed. “Just make it an easy one. I’m too tired to keep all my omissions straight.”

  He chuckled. “Since we’re not even engaged, I wouldn’t want any deep, dark omissions to slip out by accident.”

  “You have no idea,” she muttered. “Come on. Hit me. What’s your question?”

  “Okay, an easy one. Let’s see . . . You said you broke your leg at one point. I guess that gives you something in common with Kiko.”

  “More than you can guess.”

  “So tell me. What happened?”

  She tried not to flinch. She didn’t like remembering that time, even though everything worked out in the long run. “I was eight. I was in a school play and I fell off the stage.”

  “I’m sorry.” And he was. She could hear it in the jagged quality of his words. “Unless someone saw you when you were as tired as you were last night, no one would ever know. You’re incredibly graceful.”

  “Years of dance lessons, which helped me recover faster than I would have otherwise. But I was never able to dance again.” She couldn’t help the wistful admission. “Not like I could before.”

  “Were you living with your grandmother at the time?”

  “Yes.” Before he could ask any more questions, express any more compassion, she set her glass on the table with unmistakable finality. “It’s been a long night. I should turn in.”

  “Don’t go.”

  His voice whispered into the darkness, sending a shiver through her. It was filled with a tantalizing danger—not a physical danger, but an emotional one that threatened to change her in ways she couldn’t anticipate. Indelible ways from which she might never recover. She hesitated there, tempted beyond measure, despite the ghost of the woman who hovered between them. And then he took the decision from her, sweeping her out of her chair and into his arms.

  “Rafe—”

  “I won’t break my promise to Primo. But I need to hold you. To kiss you.”

  A dozen short steps brought him to the French doors leading to her suite of rooms. Kiko followed, settling just outside, as though guarding this stolen time together. Even though an inky blackness enfolded the room, Rafe found the bed with unerring accuracy. He lowered her to the silken cover. A delicious weight followed, pressing her into the softness.

  Despite Larkin’s night blindness, her other senses came alive. She heard the give-and-take of their breath, growing in urgency. Felt her heart kicking up in tempo, knowing it beat in unison with Rafe’s. Powerful hands swept over her and she caught the agitated rustle of clothing that punctuated the tide of desire rising within her. And all the while, the flare of energy centered in her palm spread heat deep into blood and bone, heart and soul.

  “Are you sure this isn’t breaking your promise to Primo?” she whispered.

  His hand slipped around behind her and found the hooks to her bra. One quick twist and the scrap of lace loosened. He released a husky laugh. “I’d say we were teetering on a thin line.”

  She pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her blouse and the straps of her bra and wrapped them around his neck. “A very thin line. Maybe a kiss tonight before you leave?”

  Even as the words escaped, his mouth found the joining of her neck and shoulder. Her muscles locked and her spine bowed in reaction. She’d never realized that particular juncture of her body was so sensitive. She released a frantic gasp, a small cry that held the distinct sound of a plea. How was it possible a simple touch could have such an overpowering effect? She couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around it.

  He cupped her breasts and drew his thumbs across the sensitive tips. Tracing, then circling, over and over until she thought she’d go crazy. He hadn’t even kissed her yet, and already she was insane with a need she couldn’t seem to find the words to express.

  “Rafe, please.”

  She couldn’t admit what she wanted. It was all twisted into a confused, seething jumble of conflicting urges. The urge for more. Far more. The need to stop before she lost total control. Or was it already too late for that? The sheer, unadulterated want to wallow in the heat and desire of his touch. This was wrong—not that she dared admit as much to Rafe. But she knew. And the knowledge ate at her. She shifted restlessly beneath him and he stilled her with a soothing touch.

  Cupping her face, he took her mouth, obliterating the wrong beneath a kiss of absolute rightness. It was sheer perfection. Where their earlier kisses were filled with heat and demand, this one was far different. It soothed. Gentled. Offered a balm to the senses. The desperation eased, grew more languid, and she found herself relaxing into the embrace.

  “You know I want to take this further,” he murmured against her lips.

  “You also know we can’t. I couldn’t look your grandparents in the face if—” She broke off with a shiver.

  “Then we won’t.” She could hear the smile in his voice and feel it in the kisses he feathered across her mouth. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t come close.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed. “That’s torture. You realize that, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah. But I can take it if you can.” A warm laugh teased the darkness. “I think.”

  “We’re playing a dangerous game.”

  “Do you really want me to stop?”

  She considered for an entire five seconds. What had happened to her willpower? She’d never found it difficult to hold a man at arm’s length. Until now. But with Rafe . . . For some reason he affected her in ways she’d never expected or experienced before. Everything about him attracted her. His looks. His intelligence. His sense of humor. His strength. His compassion. Even his family ties—especially his family ties. They all appealed. And then there was her physical response to him. She’d come here wanting something specific from Rafe. What she’d gotten in its stead had been totally unexpected.

  She slid her arms downward, surprised to discover that at some point his shirt had disappeared. “What if this isn’t real? What if The Inferno is causing us to feel this way?”

  She sensed his surprise at the question. “Is that what you think? That your response is caused by a myth?”

  Larkin attempted to control her hands, but they had a mind of their own, sweeping over the sculpted muscles of his chest. He was so hard and distinctly masculine, his body so d
eliciously different from her own. “I’ve never felt like this before. I’m just trying to understand—”

  “You mean rationalize what’s happening.” His laugh contained a wry edge. “Trust me, I understand completely. I’m not interested in another emotional entanglement. Not after Leigh.”

  She stilled, the reminder an icy one. “Emotional?”

  He leaned in until his forehead rested against hers. “Hell, Larkin. Do you think I want this to be anything more than physical? Pure chemistry?”

  “I can pretty much guess the answer to that,” she said drily.

  He rolled off her and onto his back, scooping her against his side. She rested her head on his shoulder and allowed her hand to drift across the flat expanse of his abdomen. He sucked in his breath, lacing her fingers with his in order to stop their restless movement. “Since the minute I met you, I’ve been telling myself it’s a simple physical reaction. That’s all I want it to be. That’s all I can handle at this point in my life.”

  “But?”

  “But then you told me about your broken leg and how you’d never been able to dance again.”

  “I can dance. Just not the way I did before.” She shrugged. “So?”

  “It just about killed me to hear you say that,” he confessed roughly. “To see how it affected you.”

  “Is that why we ended up here?”

  “Pretty much.” He tugged at her short crop of curls. He blew out his breath in a sigh. “Go to sleep, Larkin.”

  “What about . . . ?”

  “Not tonight. I’m not sure I could stop once we got started. Hell, who am I kidding? I know I won’t be able to stop.”

  Nor would she. “Are you going to stay here with me?”

  “For a while,” he compromised.

  She hesitated, not sure she should ask the next question. But it slipped out anyway. “What happens from this point forward?”