It didn’t take long, and the adherence to good manners brought forth a smile as both Anna and her husband bade Ben goodbye and hoped he enjoyed the party.
The invitation stated two o’clock, and Taylor drew the car into the kerb outside a large, stately home in suburban Woollahra.
A security guard manned the gate, checking invitations as guests arrived and offering directions to the rear of the grounds, where the party was set up.
‘There’s Tamryn.’
Taylor felt the sudden tightening of Ben’s hand within her own, and she gave his a reassuring squeeze as they drew close to a group of excited children all dressed in their finest, and mingling parents.
‘You’re going to stay, aren’t you?’
‘Hey,’ she chided gently, ‘you think I’m going to miss out on all the fun?’
And it was fun; the professional planning ensured there was spontaneity in the children’s games, with thirty-odd pre-schoolers enjoying the time of their lives. Any minor squabble was intercepted, the perpetrator distracted, and eventually it was time for food, drink…and most importantly, the cake.
It was easy to smile, to laugh a little at so many small faces glowing with anticipation as four candles were ceremoniously lit.
A sudden prickle of awareness slid up Taylor’s spine and settled at her nape…an instinctive alert she endeavoured to ignore without much success.
She shifted her gaze slightly and caught sight of the tall, broad-shouldered male figure crossing the grounds towards the host, hostess and their grouped guests.
Dante. Attired in dark tailored trousers, a white shirt open at the neck, worn with a black butter-soft leather jacket.
It wasn’t so much his attire that drew attention but the man himself, for there was an intrinsic quality she chose not to define…just aware of an instinctive need to build her defensive barriers high in self-protection.
Survival…her own. Against a man whose sensual potency threatened to wreck her equilibrium. Something she vowed no man would ever be permitted to do again.
Why now, when she’d reached a relatively relaxed state of mind? Settled, she added silently, into a life of relative contentment.
Yet in one fatal second her world had changed, flung into an orbit she struggled to control.
Not Ben…never Ben.
Dante.
A man who disturbed her more than she was prepared to admit. Had from the moment she first saw him. Friendly, warm…with a reputation for preferring sophisticated women who knew the score.
It wasn’t her nature to flirt. Nor did she favour casual sex, possibly because there had been no one for whom she’d been tempted to discard her moral beliefs.
Besides, Dante resided abroad and travelled the world. Any liaison with such a man could only be destined for heartbreak…and she was fiercely determined it wouldn’t be hers.
Later she had reason to enforce that decision a hundredfold.
Yet now he was in her life, occupying her mind, infiltrating her senses, and she struggled against it…wanting only the tranquil life that had once been her own.
‘Taylor.’
She turned slightly and tilted her face a little to meet his easy smile. He had the advantage of height, marked by her choice of flat shoes for the afternoon.
‘Hi.’
There was strength apparent beneath the casual elegance of his clothes. A compelling quality that stood him apart from other men. Power, she determined, and an innate sense of control. Mesh it with latent sexuality, and the result drew women’s attention like bees to a honeypot.
Hadn’t she witnessed evidence of it at every opportunity?
‘Ben will be pleased you managed to make it.’
The sparkling laughter he’d glimpsed had faded, replaced by polite friendliness…and he resisted the temptation to cup her cheek, smooth a thumb over her lips, feel them tremble a little beneath his touch.
Almost as if she sensed his intention, her body stiffened, and the edge of his mouth lifted a little with the knowledge she was aware of the electric tension existing between them.
‘I wouldn’t disappoint him.’ His voice was a silken drawl as his gaze lingered briefly on the pulsing beat at the edge of her throat, then shifted to acknowledge Ben’s excited wave. ‘It’s good to see he’s enjoying himself.’
‘Yes.’
Ben raced towards them, arms outstretched as he reached his uncle, and Taylor watched as Dante lifted him high against his chest to settle him in the crook of one arm.
‘We’re all getting a present,’ Ben enlightened with excitement. ‘And Tamryn says the party isn’t over yet.’ He transferred an anxious look from his uncle to Taylor. ‘We can stay, can’t we?’
‘Of course,’ Dante conceded easily.
It became a pleasant hour as the parents mixed and mingled while the children were supervised at play.
Drinks were offered, together with coffee, tea and canapés…and fairy lights illuminated the grounds as the sun faded beyond the horizon.
Dante rarely moved from Taylor’s side, projecting a unified front…one she chose to dissemble without much success.
It was almost seven when they collected Ben, bade Tamryn goodnight and thanked the little girl’s parents for the party invitation.
Ben was already beginning to droop as Dante hoisted him high onto his shoulders and accompanied Taylor out to the car.
It had been an exciting day for a little boy, who once they reached home, wanted only a glass of milk after his bath, and fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.
‘Anna has prepared dinner,’ Dante relayed as they quietly closed Ben’s door behind them.
Togetherness was a fine thing, but Taylor was in overload, and a little wired from spending a few hours in his company.
‘I’m really not hungry.’
A statement which incurred an intense look. ‘You barely ate a thing at the party.’
‘I’m fine.’ He saw too much, divined more, and it put her on edge. ‘I’ll grab a banana, coffee, and spend time on my laptop.’
‘I’ll have Anna bring you a tray.’
She raged a silent battle for a few seconds, then ventured with extreme politeness, ‘I’m capable of doing that myself.’
Dark eyes speared her own, and held, almost as if he knew, then he inclined his head. ‘Your prerogative.’
‘Thank you.’
The air seemed to hold a curious tension…something she chose to ignore as she descended the stairs and made her way to the kitchen, where she apologised to Anna for her lack of appetite, then with a mug of fresh coffee in one hand, a banana in the other, she bade Dante and Anna ‘goodnight’.
‘Don’t work too late.’
Taylor sensed mild amusement beneath his indolent voice, and told herself she didn’t care if he thought she was avoiding him.
What was more, she’d work as late as she liked.
She occupied his home, but she was damned if he’d tell her what to do!
Consequently she entered the home office, opened her laptop, reread the previous day’s work and wrote…weaving characters, motive and suspense into script, becoming lost in the fascination of creative process.
Occasionally she rose from the chair, flexed her shoulders and executed a few calisthenics to ease the tension of repetitive movement.
The night hours were her most productive writing time, and when she’d lived in her apartment she’d often lost track of time, realising the lateness of the hour only when her eyes began to blur…
Now, however, she no longer lived alone…there was Ben, and the compelling man whose home she shared.
Dante, who had led her to believe they’d rarely see each other…except he was there, at every opportunity sharing her life and becoming a large, fundamental part of Ben’s.
So why did it bother her so much? Taylor attempted to rationalise on the edge of sleep…and failed to discover a sensible answer.
CHAPTER FOUR
> TAYLOR watched as Dante swept Ben high against his chest as he prepared to leave for the airport…heard the young boy’s delighted laughter, and felt a pang of envy for the easy affection they shared.
It brought so vividly alive how much she missed Casey…the frequent phone calls, sharing, the unconditional affection and innate knowledge they were always there for each other.
A huge gap she attempted to bridge with love for her nephew.
It was enough, she assured fiercely…all she needed. Her writing career was an added bonus and the success it had brought her ensured she was busy and her mind occupied for much of the time too.
So why the longing for something more?
The touch of a man’s lips on her own. Strong, warm arms enfolding her close. Affection. Trust.
The knowledge that she was safe.
‘When will you be back?’
Her voice sounded slightly uneven, and she caught the sudden sharpness in Dante’s eyes, then it was gone.
‘A week, perhaps less.’
Taylor summoned a smile as he released Ben down onto his feet. ‘Take care.’ The words seemed fairly innocuous as she caught her nephew’s hand and crossed the lobby at Dante’s side.
Gianni was seated behind the wheel of the Mercedes as Dante released one of the large doors and moved lithely down the few steps to slide into the front passenger seat.
Ben waved until the car swept through the electronic gates and disappeared from sight.
‘I wish Zio didn’t have to go away.’
She drew him close and dropped a kiss on his nose. Poor little scrap, he sounded quite forlorn.
‘He’s a very busy man,’ she offered gently, and met solemn dark eyes.
‘He promised he’ll call tonight before I go to bed.’
One thing she’d learnt was that Dante kept to his word. ‘I’m sure he will.’ She caught hold of his hand and bestowed a teasing smile. ‘Now, young man, let’s go have breakfast.’
After which she’d oversee his normal morning routine, help him dress, pack his knapsack, drive him to kindergarten…then she’d return to seek seclusion in her home office and write until it was time to go collect Ben.
It was a plan which should work reasonably well, if she managed to gain total focus on the twist needed to extend the suspense element in the story she was currently working on.
The ability to clear her mind and enter the fictional world of her characters required concentrated effort, and fortified with a cup of Earl Grey tea, she opened her current manuscript file and reread the previous day’s work, edited and made a few minor changes before tuning in to the creative process.
At midday she took a break and fixed herself a ham and salad sandwich in the kitchen, filled a glass with apple juice and chose to eat lunch on the terrace.
The sun held little warmth and there was a fresh breeze which hinted at late afternoon showers, borne by a bank of clouds hovering on the horizon.
There were days when she permitted her mind to wander during a lunch break…others when she preferred to keep the momentum going by printing out the morning’s hard copy and editing it as she ate.
Today there was a tendency to lapse into introspection and enjoy the sensation of freedom from Dante’s presence for several days.
Leading separate lives whilst residing beneath the same roof wasn’t really happening, Taylor reflected.
Whether by accident or design Dante entered the informal dining room and shared breakfast with her and Ben each morning…and most evenings he arrived home from the city office in time to join them for dinner. What was more, he supervised Ben’s bath-time, and shared the telling of their nephew’s bedtime story.
Whatever her reservations, she had to concede Dante had Ben’s continuing welfare at heart as he displayed genuine caring and affection at every turn.
Gradually Ben’s tendency towards solemnity was beginning to fade as he smiled more often, and the occasional bad dreams where he woke crying in the night were beginning to diminish.
The move into Dante’s home was proving to be the right choice…for Ben.
So why was she so tense and on edge? Instinctively wary and unable to relax?
The simmering electricity existent beneath the surface whenever she was in Dante’s presence…what was that?
Did he sense it? Or was it merely a figment of her imagination?
Whatever, it was a complication she didn’t want or need.
Oh, for heaven’s sake…take a reality check, why don’t you?
She was one of two surrogate parents, committed to raising their nephew together. This was all about Ben…all of it.
She shared a beautiful, spacious house with a home office to die for, her own suite of rooms, staff to cook and clean, financial freedom.
So why did she have this niggling feeling something was missing? It hardly made sense.
Taylor drained the rest of her juice from her glass, collected her plate and returned both to the kitchen, then she filched a bottle of water from the refrigerator and retreated back to her work until it was time to collect Ben from kindergarten.
He burst through the door when summoned, a finger-painting clutched in one hand, his knapsack in the other, and a delighted smile lighting his face.
‘I got a gold star!’
She caught him close in a warm hug. ‘You did? That’s fantastic.’
‘I did a finger-painting of you, me and Zio Dante. Shelley said it’s very good.’
Shelley was one of the carers employed to teach and supervise the pupils…a young, bubbly brunette adored by the children.
‘Can I see it?’
Ben unfolded the paper with care and took great pride in identifying each figure. ‘That’s you with long hair, and I made Dante big, ’cos he’s tall, and that’s me.’
Taylor felt her heartstrings tug a little at the sight of a small figure holding the hand of the adult standing either side of him.
Her eyes welled with moisture, and she swept him into her arms. ‘It’s a beautiful painting.’
Ben looked at her closely. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘Because I love you so much.’
‘Me, too.’
She unashamedly wiped her eyes, then she carried him to the car, secured him in the rear seat, then brushed her lips to his cheek.
‘Would you like to go to the park?’
His eyes widened. ‘Did you bring my bike?’
‘It’s in the boot.’
‘Cool.’
He ate the banana she’d brought for him and drank some of the bottled water when they reached the park, then she unloaded his bike.
They spent a lovely hour together as he rode his bike along the winding pathways, and afterwards he entered the playground, where he took turns on the swing, enjoyed the jungle-gym, then spent time climbing the steps to the slide.
There were other young children playing with a football, and he joined them for a while before happily riding his bike towards the car.
It was almost five when they arrived home, and with due ceremony the finger-painting was pinned onto a cork-board on Ben’s bedroom wall.
Dinner was served at six, followed a while later by his bath-time, then at the pre-arranged time of seven-fifteen Taylor logged on to her computer, settled Ben close, engaged the web-cam and watched as Dante’s features filled the screen.
Close, much too close. So much so, she felt if she reached out she could touch him.
Yet he was such a long way away…checking in as he’d said he would, so that his presence seemed a constant in a vulnerable young boy’s life.
So why did it seem as if he were in the same room, his dark eyes lazily appreciative as he listened to Ben excitedly relaying an afternoon sojourn at a park?
And why, when Dante switched his attention to her, did her body quiver a little, and the pulse at the base of her throat beat a fast tattoo?
There was the temptation to lift fingers to cover her body’s visible betrayal, e
xcept such a gesture would highlight rather than hide her reaction.
Instead, she managed a credible smile, assured all was well and wondered, not for the first time, why Dante left her feeling as if she was being caught up in a whirlwind.
It wasn’t any one quality he had, but a mesh of several…the superb physical attributes of his tall, broad frame; wide-boned facial features comprising broad cheekbones, a wide, sensual mouth framed by a groove which slashed each cheek and a strong jaw. Tiny lines fanned out from the far corners of his eyes…eyes which held a dark, mesmerising intensity.
There was a degree of ruthlessness beneath his sophisticated persona, a leashed strength which boded ill for an adversary.
Yet he displayed unlimited patience with Ben, and a gentle affection which touched her deeply.
It made her wonder how he’d be with the woman to whom he’d trust his heart, his soul.
Possessive. Passionate. Primitive.
More than most women could handle.
A faint shiver shook her slender frame, and her eyes dilated as she caught the faint lift at the edge of his mouth. Almost as if he could read her thoughts…and was mildly amused by them.
Later, when Ben was asleep, she decided to lose herself in her writing again, directing fictional characters with ease through one scene and on to another…working so late, it was after midnight when she saved to disk, closed down her computer, showered and slid into bed.
It became a familiar pattern throughout the following days, with much of her writing work achieved in the evening hours as Ben slept.
The days Ben attended kindergarten Taylor collected him and went on to a park, and there were his regular swimming lessons, practice sessions she supervised in the covered swimming pool at Dante’s mansion.
She followed Casey’s example teaching Ben his alphabet and numbers, and they read together before dinner. After which she logged on to the computer for the customary connection with Dante via web-cam.
‘When are you coming back?’ Ben queried during one such session a week after Dante had flown out.
‘Soon. A few days.’
‘We miss you. Don’t we, Taylor?’
Out of the mouths of babes! She wanted to make the correction, assure that while Ben might, she wasn’t in the least affected by his absence.
The Italian's Ruthless Marriage Command (HQR Presents) Page 4