‘So now I’ve reassured you, how about you open up to me?’ he pressed. ‘We haven’t had chance to talk for years. I’d like to know what makes you tick these days, Karina.’
Her heart clenched tight. ‘My work,’ she said.
‘There has to be more to you than that.’
‘Does there?’ She shrugged. ‘I work—I sleep—I eat. That’s it.’
He frowned. ‘We used to be friends. You used to trust me.’
She bristled. She couldn’t help herself. She was remembering that night. ‘That was a long time ago, Dante.’ She turned her head to stare out of the window.
‘Butt out?’ he suggested wryly.
‘Something like that,’ she agreed. She had buried the heartache deep where it was safe from anyone’s scrutiny. At the time Dante was talking about she had thought she knew it all.
And she couldn’t have been more mistaken.
They spent the rest of the journey in silence. When they arrived back at the hotel and Dante stepped out of the vehicle he was immediately surrounded by admirers. And why not, when his face was on every billboard in Rio? He had wealth beyond imagining, plus he was a notorious player in the game of life as well as on the polo field. Every woman with breath in her body wanted him.
With one notable exception, Karina told herself firmly as she got out of the car.
She stood back until Dante was on his own again, when she thanked him formally for a lovely day and for coming up with the perfect theme for the event.
‘I hope today has proved productive.’ He stared deep into her eyes until she had to look away. ‘Are you sure you know what I want now?’
Was he still talking about the cup?
‘I’m sure,’ she said tightly.
‘After you,’ he said politely, as he waved the doorman away so he could open the door for her himself.
Following his gaze once they were inside the lobby, she stopped dead and refused to move another inch. ‘Oh, no—I can’t. I’m sorry.’
‘You can’t? Not even for an honoured client?’ Smiling faintly, he lifted a brow. ‘You’re far too busy?’ he suggested dryly.
For dancing with Dante? Yes. She should have remembered that every year after the parade her brother kept the party going by hiring one of the best samba bands in the city to entertain his guests. ‘I really don’t have time for dancing,’ she excused herself, pinning an expression of regret to her face.
‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘One dance with me can’t hurt you, surely?’
One dance with Dante could do more damage than he knew.
‘We’ve had a lovely day, a useful day, but now I’ve got so much to do.’
Her breath seemed to have taken on a life of its own as she stared at the dancers, closely packed...couples entwined...hands reaching, seeking, touching, stroking. Her chest was tight with panic and her breath was short at the thought of being pressed up hard against Dante. That was one risk she couldn’t afford to take.
But Dante was determined. Taking her hand in a firm grip, he steered her onto the dance floor.
Her heart was going crazy as all the potential consequences of a simple dance swept over her. The last time she had danced with Dante had been at her eighteenth birthday party and that had led to catastrophic consequences. A harmless dance, her friends had called it, while she had laughed. She hadn’t a care in the world at that time, and hadn’t needed much persuasion to get up and drag Dante onto the dance floor.
She’d been up for anything then. And had fallen down a slippery slope faster than she would have ever believed possible. She stiffened now as he drew her close, and then relaxed a little because his hands were in a safe place. So long as he kept them there... She let out a tense breath when he showed no sign of moving them. He towered over her, and there was a faintly mocking and, oh, so confident expression on his face, and however hard she tried to resist him his familiar scent and strong, hard body worked its magic on her and she was lost. Dante was a rock against which her soft frame yielded all too easily.
‘The perfect end to the perfect day,’ he murmured in a whisper that brushed her ear. ‘Now I just need you to relax.’
That was never going to happen. She came to her senses just in time, but turning to give him some smart retort she found herself staring into those mocking black eyes, and their faces were close, so close their lips were almost touching...
And then he brushed her lips with his.
Jerking her head back, she broke contact.
‘For goodness’ sake, Karina, what’s a kiss between friends?’
Friends?
‘I don’t want Luc to see us,’ she told him frostily.
‘Luc? You care what your brother thinks?’ Dante’s black eyes blazed with disbelief.
‘I don’t think it would be very professional for him to see me kissing a client in the lobby of his hotel. It would be hard to pass that off as a business discussion, don’t you think?’
Dante’s massive shoulders eased in an accepting shrug, but suspicion had returned to his eyes. As well it might. There had been something so natural about their two bodies coming together. The way they moved as one would make anyone suspicious. Her body responded to Dante whether she wanted it to or not, making a dance with him more like a prelude to sex than a series of technical moves to music.
‘You dance well, Karina,’ he said, when the band fell silent. ‘I should have remembered just how well.’ She looked away from those mocking eyes. ‘No, you don’t,’ he said, tightening his hold on her when she tried to pull away.
‘I’m sure if I leave you, you won’t be short of partners.’
‘There’s only one partner I want, and that’s you.’
Dante’s expression had hardened, making that a command.
‘This has to stop,’ she cautioned softly.
‘Or we can’t work together?’ he suggested, with an edge of warning in his voice.
‘Is that a threat?’
His answer was to dip his head and rasp his stubble against her neck, making her shudder out a gasp of indignation.
‘You’re shameless!’
‘I’m curious,’ he argued. ‘Curious about you, Karina, and why you’re so tense.’
She couldn’t retaliate as they had attracted quite a crowd. When the national hero danced with the hotel owner’s sister it was hot news and cameras on phones were flashing. There was no escape for her. She had to see this through. This was carnival season when people expected excitement and passion and, yes, hot news.
A small cry escaped her throat when Dante rubbed against her. He was shameless. This wasn’t a quiet, safe man. He never had been. Dante’s expression was knowing and mocking as he led her in the dance. He could prove so easily how much she still wanted him, just allowing her to feel the hard proof of his desire. And then the band struck up a sexy samba. She should go...
‘You can’t pretend you don’t know the steps,’ Dante insisted, murmuring the words against her ear. ‘There are only three.’
There was too much laughter in his eyes for her to ignore his insistence that they have this one last dance, and willing his hands to stay where they were, and for her body to behave, she kept on dancing. Her body did the rest, with Dante’s lightest, safest touch egging her on. He felt so good as they danced that she even began to relax. He felt so hard and sure, while she was so yielding and soft...
But not in the head, hopefully, she concluded, pulling away.
With a laugh Dante caught her back again. ‘You’re not so prim on the dance floor, are you, Senhorita Marcelos?’
‘I’m doing this as a courtesy to a client and nothing more,’ she said, living up to her prim tag.
‘Of course you are,’ Dante agreed dryly.
‘And now I really do have to go,�
�� she insisted, peeling herself away from him when the number ended.
He looked at her from beneath his brow. ‘And our discussions?’
‘Will be continued.’ If there had been even a hint of business in his eyes she would have made an appointment with him there and then. But as it was... ‘I’ll get my secretary to call yours.’
He laughed at this. ‘How about you call me?’
Not a chance. She had almost slipped from the straight and narrow and had no intention of risking it again. She was going to keep things formal between them from now on. ‘Someone will call you,’ she confirmed.
‘It had better be you,’ Dante warned.
She shivered involuntarily at the tone of his voice, and then gasped when he caught hold of her arm, but he was only delaying her so he could shrug off his jacket to put it around her shoulders.
‘You don’t need to do that—I’ve got my shawl.’ She was wearing the shawl he’d bought her like a scarf, and had tossed it around her neck when they’d begun to dance.
‘You can give the jacket back to me when you see me next,’ Dante told her with a smile. Drawing it close around her, he enfolded her in his heat. ‘Take your time with those notes. I want you up and running when we arrive at my fazenda.’
His ranch. His kingdom. His power to wield and enforce...
‘You’re shivering again, Karina.’
Stop fretting, or you’ll make him more suspicious that ever. You can do this, she added to that instruction as she lifted her chin to stare Dante in the eyes. Deciding that making light of it was her best defence, she curved a smile. ‘You’ve already given me your jacket. Shall I take your shirt next?’
She didn’t stay to watch as Dante teased her with a wicked grin as his fingers toyed with the buttons on the front of his shirt.
She remembered those hands... She remembered those fingers...
She cursed silently, remembering what lay beneath that shirt.
It was time to forget all that and concentrate on business.
Turning on her heel, she walked away, and was more than relieved when she reached the bank of elevators and one opened for her right on cue. Once inside she hit the button for her floor with a sigh of relief.
* * *
Dante was frustrated and pacing his bedroom with Karina on his mind. What a day it had been. Seeing her again was a thunderbolt. He could never have anticipated the way she made him feel. He had thought the attraction between them would have faded by now, but instead it had grown.
Yet she had catapulted away from the most innocent of kisses.
Why?
Admittedly, the kiss hadn’t been all that innocent—it had been a trial, a test, an exploratory mission with motive behind it. She was hot. He was hungry. A kiss had seemed inevitable to him. He should have remembered that women harboured memories like sacred vows, while he, like most men, responded to the moment.
That insight couldn’t help him now. Other woman shrank into insignificance by comparison with Karina. And she was a woman now, not a teenage siren who didn’t know her own mind. She was a very beautiful woman and he wanted her. Her feelings towards him were tantalisingly ambiguous. There was the same heat between them, but there was a new reserve in her manner that he couldn’t see his way past.
That wouldn’t stop him trying, he accepted with a wry grin as he stopped to stretch in an attempt to ease his cramped muscles. The inactivity of city life was killing him. He longed for the freedom of the pampas. He was keen to get Karina to the ranch to see if she would relax in the setting where they’d both grown up. Luc said she hadn’t visited the pampas for years, preferring life in the city. He wondered if that was true, or if she was hiding in a crowd. If that was the case, what was she running away from?
And why was he taking time out to ponder questions like that when he should be concentrating on the job she had been hired to do?
He turned as his laptop chirped and smiled thoughtfully when he saw the name at the top of the email. So she was up too. He hesitated before opening it. Karina’s initial suggestions had been lacklustre. They’d been adequate, but no more than that. He hoped the trip he’d taken her on had infected her with the magic of carnival. People changed as they grew up, but he needed the old Karina’s fairy dust for his event. Her flawless reputation in the events industry wasn’t enough.
He had agreed to her handling the project because the Karina he’d known and grown up with could bring more than meticulous planning and attention to detail, she could bring flair and originality, but so far he’d seen little sign of that. He could only hope that fairy dust hadn’t vanished in a gale of righteous living and rigid structure.
Making the decision to leave her email until a pint of coffee had fired up his brain cells, he headed for the shower. As he stepped beneath the icy water it seemed to him that in trying to protect her he had he hurt her more than he had intended. He had certainly ruined their friendship.
* * *
Karina had had the worst night’s sleep ever. If she was honest, she hadn’t slept at all. But she’d made good use of the hours up to dawn, spending most of them at her desk, working on an outline plan for the event. Hitting ‘send’, she’d sent her preliminary thoughts through to Dante. There was no point going into too much detail, because everything would need tweaking and adapting, depending on what she found at his ranch.
Her stomach plummeted at the thought. There was no getting out of it. She had to go to his ranch. Evaluating the existing facilities at the site of any new project was her first rule.
Taking herself off to shower and dress, she put on her business face along with her suit. She would meet Dante at Luc’s office. Neutral territory was best. Checking her appearance one last time, she straightened her jacket and smoothed her hair. Dante was paying for her business expertise, nothing more.
How would she explain the black circles beneath her eyes?
She didn’t need to explain them. Foraging in her tote, she found the concealer pen in her make-up pouch and carefully painted on some wide-awake crescents. It had shaken her, seeing him again, no question.
Shaken her? It had rocked her foundations to the core, but today would be different because today she knew what to expect and today would be all about business.
‘Who put those worry lines on your face?’ her brother demanded helpfully the moment she entered his office.
‘I’m working. I’m preoccupied. That’s all,’ she insisted when Luc shot her a sceptical look. Flashing him an impatient glance, she began to pace his office.
‘Let me guess,’ he said. ‘The frown has something to do with Dante?’
She turned her head and gave him her dead stare. ‘Really.’
‘Just don’t tell me yesterday didn’t go well. I heard rumours you went to carnival. Big mistake, Karina. This is business. Carnival is the wrong place to do business.’
‘Says you, who spends a fortune on carnival and takes clients there. You even have a special stand erected for hotel guests, not to mention the samba band in the hotel lobby—’
‘That’s different,’ Luc insisted.
‘How is it different?’
‘I’m different,’ her brother informed her with a shrug.
‘How are you different? Oh, I remember. You pee standing up.’
‘Karina—’
‘We had a good day, as it happens,’ she said, deflecting his mocking look.
‘I’m pleased to hear it. I always knew you could handle Dante.’
‘I can handle him,’ she confirmed. ‘Shall we get started?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘He’s late.’
‘Don’t you think you should wait for your client?’
‘We don’t know how long he’s going to be.’ She shrugged. ‘For all we know, Dante’s got something more important to do.�
��
Luc looked at her shrewdly. ‘He has got under your skin.’
‘Can we make a start, please?’
‘Whatever you say.’ Luc grinned with the anticipation of fun as he sat down at his desk.
‘Apologies for my late arrival.’
She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door flew open. Dante’s blazing stare found hers immediately.
‘You’re not late. We’re early,’ Luc pacified, smiling as he stood.
She watched the two men punch fists and hug. She felt like an outsider when once she had been an honorary member of their gang.
That had been years ago.
She turned back to business—and tensed when Dante pulled his chair up close to hers. ‘Those notes you emailed over...in the middle of the night?’ His amused eyes scanned her face. ‘I’ve taken a look at them. You get some good ideas at three o’clock in the morning. I hope I wasn’t keeping you awake?’
‘You weren’t,’ she said coolly, conscious that every part of her body was responding eagerly in spite of the fact that that was the last thing she needed. It was interesting to know Dante had been awake too, she conceded as he pushed his response notes in front of her.
‘We made a good choice in your sister,’ he said to Luc.
‘I agree. I think Karina will do a very good job for us.’
‘Excuse me—I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m still here.’
‘Of course you are,’ Dante said warmly. ‘My apologies, Senhorita Marcelos. Why don’t you add to your notes a suggestion for classes so that gaucho polo players can learn better manners?’
‘Good idea,’ she murmured, as she studied his comments.
‘I’ve written some notes on the back of that,’ he said, leaning towards her to turn over the document she was studying.
Like an idiot, she bent her head to read, ‘Dinner Cellini’s. Eight o’clock.’
‘Seriously?’ She glanced up. ‘I don’t think we need to consider this, do you?’
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