He had never called her that before. She thought of how soft the name sounded on his lips. Of how the world was spinning, spinning, spinning…
And then everything went black.
WHEN SHE OPENED HER EYES, she was in an enormous, canopied bed in a softly lit room.
Where was she? What had happened? Something terrible. Something that carried within it the seeds of disaster.
She sat up against a bank of silk-covered pillows—and everything came rushing back. Dante. Samantha. Her baby in her lover’s arms. Her baby, here, in this place, where three years’ worth of secrets might untangle like a skein of yarn.
Tally started to push the comforter aside. She had to find Sam. Take her home…
“Cara. What are you doing?”
Dante’s voice was harsh. He stood in the door between the bath and the bedroom, his tall, powerful figure shadowy in the light.
“Where’s my baby?”
“Samantha is fine.”
He came toward her, a glass of water in one hand, a small tablet in the other. Tally brushed aside his outstretched hand.
“Where is she?”
“She’s in the nursery. Asleep.”
“I want to see her.”
“I told you, she’s fine.”
Tally swung her feet to the floor. “Don’t argue with me, Dante! I want to see her now.”
“The tablet first.”
She glared up at him. She knew him well; enough to know he wasn’t going to let her get past him until she obeyed his command.
“What is that?”
“Just something to calm you.”
“I don’t need calming, damn it!”
“The doctor disagreed.”
“You called a doctor?”
“Of course I did,” he said brusquely. “You fainted.”
“Only because—because I was stunned to see my daughter. You had no right—”
“Take the tablet.” His mouth twitched. “Then you can tell me what a monster I am, for flying Samantha here so she could be with you.”
She glared at him one last time. Then she snatched the glass from his hand, dumped the tablet in her mouth and gulped it down with a mouthful of water.
Tell him what a monster he was? No. She wasn’t going to waste the time. You couldn’t argue with Dante Russo. He was always right, so why bother? She’d take Sam and leave.
But first, she had to get dressed.
The realization that she was undressed surged through her. She was wearing a nightgown of pale blue silk, its thin straps scattered with pink silk rosebuds, the kind of gown only a man would buy for a woman.
An ache, sharp as a knife, pierced her heart. Was the woman Dante had bought it for as lovely as the gown? She must have been, for him to have given her something so fragile and exquisitely beautiful. For him to have made love to that woman here, in his home, where he had never made love to her.
Unaccountably, her eyes stung with tears. Angry tears. What else could they be?
Damn Dante Russo to hell! Who had given him permission to have his housekeeper take off her clothes and dress her in this gown that wasn’t hers?
“Well?”
She looked up. Dante was watching her, one dark eyebrow raised.
“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m a monster?”
“Get away from me,” Tally said, her voice trembling.
“After all,” he said, a wry smile curving his lips, “you have every reason to despise me. You pass out, I phone for my doctor.…What woman wouldn’t hate a man under those circumstances?”
“I want my clothes.”
“Why?”
“Dante. You may find this amusing, but I do not. You seem to think you can—you can take control of my life. Well, you can’t. I don’t want your job. I don’t want your guest suite. I don’t want you thinking you can decide what’s best for my baby, I don’t want your housekeeper undressing me, and I certainly do not want your mistress’s cast-offs.”
“Such a long list of don’ts,” he said mildly, tucking his hands into the pockets of what she now realized were soft-looking gray sweatpants. “Unfortunately, not all of them are appropriate.”
“Damn you, I’m not playing games!”
“Let’s go through them one by one, shall we?”
“Let’s not. I told you—”
“I heard you. Now it’s your turn to listen. Number one, I’m not trying to control anything. You agreed to the terms of the job.”
“If by ‘terms,’ you mean me living in your home—”
“Two,” he said, ignoring her protests, “I cannot imagine that thinking it best for you and Sam to be together as soon as possible was a mistake.”
“I was going home to her. Didn’t that occur to you?”
“It did, but I have a private plane. Why would you want to spend hours on the train, only to turn around and make the trip here again when I could arrange to bring her to you tonight?”
“Damn it, who gave you the right to think for me? I was not going to turn around, as you put it, and make the trip here again. I told you, I don’t want your—”
“And, finally,” he said, “finally, cara, you’re wrong about the nightgown.” He took his hands from his pockets, reached out and trailed one finger deliberately across one rose-embroidered strap, hooking the tip under the fabric, lightly tugging at it so that she had no choice but to sit forward. “I bought it for you, along with some other things I thought you might need to help you settle in.” His voice turned silken. “And then there’s that final accusation. That my housekeeper undressed you. She didn’t.”
A rush of color shot into Tally’s face. Dante saw it and smiled.
“Why would I have her do that,” he said softly, “when I’ve undressed you myself hundreds of times in the past?”
“The past is dead, Dante. You had no right—”
“Damn it,” he said sharply, his smile vanishing, “who are you to talk about rights?” His hands cupped her shoulders and he drew her to her feet. “Such self-righteous garbage from a woman who ran like a coward instead of facing a man and telling him she’d cheated on him!”
“I didn’t—”
“What? You didn’t cheat? What do you call becoming involved with another man, if not cheating? Come on, Tally. I’d love to hear you come up with a better word.”
What could she say to that? Nothing, not without admitting the truth. Telling him he’d fathered Sam would open her to his scorn, his anger and, worst of all, to the possibility he’d try and take her daughter from her.
“That’s a fine speech,” she said calmly, even though her heart was racing. “But you’re only making it because I wounded your ego. You were bored. You were going to leave me. Instead, I made the first move. That’s what really bothers you and you know it.”
Was it? She’d just told him exactly what he’d been telling himself for three years, but now he wasn’t sure it was that simple. Had he planned on breaking things off because he was bored, or was there some deeper reason he hadn’t wanted to face?
Was that what had driven her into the arms of a stranger?
Maybe he’d ask himself that question someday, but not now. Not when all his rage at Tally had turned to fear an hour ago, when he’d watched her face whiten as she crumpled to the floor.
Now she stood straight and tall before him, her eyes fixed on his and glittering with unshed, angry tears. Her hair was loose; he’d undone the pins himself, let it tumble to her shoulders in soft, heavy waves. She wore no makeup; he’d washed it away with a cool cloth and it occurred to him that he’d never seen her like this before, that in all the time they’d been lovers, her appearance had always been perfect.
She’d been beautiful then but she was even more lovely like this, he’d thought, her lips naked of artificial color, her hair in sweet disarray. She was what they called her in Vermont.
She was Tally, not Taylor, and something in the softness of the old-fashioned name had made his t
hroat constrict.
Slowly, he’d undressed her, telling himself it was only so he didn’t have to ring for Mrs. Tipton or Ellen.
His hands had trembled as he undid the buttons of her suit, as he slid her blouse from her shoulders.
It was so long since he’d seen her breasts. Her belly. The pale curls that hid the sweet folds of flesh where he longed to bury himself. The long legs that had once wrapped around his hips as he lost himself in her welcoming heat.
And yet, despite those images, what he’d felt, undressing Tally, hadn’t been sexual desire.
What he’d felt was the desire to protect her. To hold her close. Rock her in his arms. Tell her he was sorry he’d hurt her, sorry he hadn’t understood what she’d needed of him, what he’d needed of her all those years ago.…
“Even now,” Tally said, her voice tinged with bitterness, “even now, you can’t tell me the truth.”
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I was going to leave you.” Tally turned away. He cupped her jaw and forced her to meet his eyes. “But I don’t know why, cara. I thought that I did, but now I’m not so sure.” His gaze fell to her lips. “All I’m sure of is this.”
“No,” she whispered, but even as he lowered his head to hers, Tally didn’t pull back. She shut her eyes, felt the whisper of his breath on her mouth, and when he gathered her into his arms and said her name, she moaned and melted against him.
This was the kind of kiss they’d shared on the night that had changed everything. It was a kiss of tenderness and longing so intense she could feel his heart thudding against hers and with a suddenness that stunned her, she knew she wanted more.
“Dante,” she said, the word a soft sigh against his lips. “Dante…”
His name, breathed against his mouth. Her breasts, pressed to his chest. Her belly, soft against his. Dante groaned, slid his hands into Tally’s spill of cinnamon hair and gathered her closer.
Passion exploded between them.
Tenderness became desire; longing turned to desperate need. Dante’s mouth demanded acquiescence and Tally give it, parting her lips so his tongue could seek out her honeyed taste. He groaned, slid down the delicate straps of the nightgown, baring her breasts to his hands and mouth.
“Say it,” he demanded, and she did.
Her whispered “Yes, make love to me. Yes, touch me, yes, yes, yes,” rose into the silence of the winter night and filled him with ecstasy.
And he knew, in that instant, that taking her to bed once more in a quest for revenge was not what he needed at all.
He needed her wanting him, like this. Crying out as he bent to her and sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. Tossing her head back in frenzied response to the brush of his hand as he dragged up the skirt of her gown, cupped her mons with his palm, felt her hot tears of desire damp on his fingers and sweet heaven, he was going to come, to come, to come…
He scooped Tally into his arms.
“Now,” he said fiercely, his mouth at her throat, and she sobbed his name over and over as he carried her through the vast room, heading not to her bed but to his…
A child’s voice cried out.
“Sam,” Tally whispered.
Dante shut his eyes. Dragged air into his lungs. Turned and carried her to the nursery, where he set her gently on her feet.
He stood back and let her approach the child in the white and gold crib alone.
“Baby,” she murmured, “did you have a bad dream?”
“Mama?”
Tally lifted her daughter in her arms. Sam was warm from sleep, sweet from the mingled scents of soap and baby powder. She sighed and laid her head against Tally’s shoulder.
“Teddies are sleepin’, Mama.”
Teddies, indeed. The bedraggled, much-loved bear from home sat in the corner of the crib, side by side with the smallest new teddy from the bear family Dante had bought.
Unaccountably, Tally’s heart swelled.
“Yes, baby,” she said softly, “I see.”
She went to the rocking chair, sat in it and gently rocked Sam back and forth, back and forth.
“‘Hush little baby,’” she sang softly, “‘don’t you cry…’”
Gradually, Samantha’s breathing slowed. Tally waited until she was certain she was sound asleep. Then she carried her child to the crib, laid her in it, covered her with a blanket and pressed a kiss to her hair.
When she turned she saw Dante, still in the doorway, watching her, his face unreadable in the soft shadows cast by the nightlight.
Oh, Dante, she thought, Dante…
Slowly, she went to him and looked into his eyes. A muscle jumped in his cheek. He lifted his hand and reached toward her and she shook her head and pulled back, knowing that if he touched her—if he touched her…
“What we did—what we almost did—was a mistake.”
“Making love is never a mistake, cara.”
He was wrong. It was a mistake, and Tally knew it. Knew it because she’d finally faced the truth.
She loved Dante Russo with all her heart.
Bad enough she could never tell him she’d borne him a child, but to lie in his arms and pretend it was only sex would be the ultimate travesty.
A heart could only be broken so many times before it shattered into a million pieces.
Tally put her hands lightly on Dante’s chest. “Maybe not,” she said softly. “But it can’t happen anymore.”
A smile tilted at the corners of his mouth. “Does this mean I won’t have to sue you for breach of contract?”
She smiled, too. “If you mean, will I take the job, the answer is yes. It’s a wonderful opportunity, and I thank you for it. And I’ll stay here.” Her voice grew soft. “This suite is beautiful, and the nursery you created for Sam is a little girl’s dream come true.” She drew a breath. “But you have to give me your word you won’t try to make love to me.”
“Is that really what you want?”
No. Oh no, it wasn’t. She longed to tell him that, to go into his arms, lift her mouth to his, plead for him to carry her to bed and love her until dawn lit the sky.…
“Cara? Is it really what you want?”
She had lied to him already. Now she had no choice but to lie to him again.
“Yes.”
Long seconds dragged by. Then Dante took her hand, pressed a kiss to the palm and folded her fingers over it.
It was only hours later, as she lay in bed watching dawn slip over the city, that Tally realized Dante hadn’t actually said he’d agree.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TALLY WAS UP at six the next morning.
Sam was still asleep in the next room, sprawled on her belly in her new crib, flanked by both her teddy bears.
Tally smiled, bent down and pressed a light kiss to her daughter’s hair. Then she showered, put on a clean blouse but the same black suit and took a critical look at herself in the mirror.
She needed to buy clothes. If you looked successful, people assumed that you were. It wasn’t the best way to judge anyone but that was how it went, especially in this town.
Her pay would be based partly on salary and expenses, partly on the cost of the completed project. So far, no one had mentioned when she’d get a check. She hated to ask, especially because it was Dante she’d have to go to, but she’d have to work up to it, and soon.
Tally gave her image another glance, then took a deep breath. Maybe she’d be lucky and Dante would already have left for the day.
No such luck.
He was in the sun-filled breakfast room, seated at a round glass table with a cup of black coffee in his hand and the business section of the New York Times in front of him.
He looked up as Tally entered, and half rose from his chair. She motioned him to stay seated and went to the sideboard to pour herself coffee. It was easier to do that than to think about the fact that this was the very first time they’d had breakfast together.
“Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep wel
l?”
She nodded. “Fine, thank you.” A lie, of course. She’d tossed half the night, thinking of him in a room just down the stairs. “Thank you, too, for having that baby intercom installed between my room and Sam’s.”
“No problem. Actually, I had monitors installed throughout the place. I thought it would make you feel more comfortable, knowing you could hear Samantha no matter where you were.”
“That was very thoughtful,” she said politely, and sipped at her coffee.
“Sit down and join me.”
There was no way to turn down the request, especially since he’d risen to his feet and was pulling out the chair opposite his. She thanked him, slipped into the chair and tried to concentrate on the coffee. It wasn’t an easy thing to do.
Dante was a major distraction.
He was—there was no other word for it—he was beautiful. Not in a feminine way but beautiful all the same, wearing what she knew was a custom-made dark-blue suit, a pale-blue shirt from the city’s most distinguished shirtmaker, and a maroon silk tie. His dark hair was curling and damp from the shower.
Another first.
They’d never breakfasted together, and she’d never seen him fresh from the shower. They’d had long bouts of incredible sex but afterward, he’d always dressed and gone home to shower. He preferred his own things, he’d told her. His soap, his razor, his toiletries, and she’d understood that what he’d really meant was that sex was one thing but showering was another, that he would only take intimacy just so far.…
“Tally?”
She blinked. Dante had pushed a vellum envelope and a leather-bound notebook toward her.
“Sorry.” She gave a polite little laugh. “I was—I was just trying to plan my day.”
“I’ve already planned some of it for you. I hope you don’t mind, but I want you to get up to speed as quickly as possible.”
“Oh. Oh, no. I want that, too.”
“There’s a check in the envelope. Call it a signing bonus. If it isn’t enough—”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. You’re going to work hard to earn your money. You’ll find your appointments for today listed in the notebook. For right now—” Dante glanced at his watch, pushed back his chair and rose to his feet “—I have to get going. Carlo will take you to the office.”
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