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She sat down on the bed and felt cold. She didn’t want to think about him, but right now there were too many uncanny similarities.
Raul Carro. Dr Raul Carro. The man who had taken her heart and watched it beating in his hands before calmly crushing it to pieces.
Or at least that was what it had felt like at the time. Almost two years ago now. The dark and dashing Spanish doctor working briefly in England had captivated her, and her heart.
And here she was, in close proximity to another of his ilk. Too good looking and powerful for his own good. A Latin magician. She knew this situation was nothing like the one with Raul, who had seduced her with ruthless guile. And she was quite certain that the physical contact Dante had initiated so far was nothing but cold calculation, designed to unnerve her. So why did she feel then as though she were on a precipice, about to fall off again?
It was only when in her shower a short time later that shock stilled Alicia’s body as she remembered Dante’s assertion that they would be sharing a room in South Africa. She rested her forehead against the tiled wall under the spray. Dark and treacherous desire rose up to taunt her. And then she stood straight. She would not allow herself to be used like that again. She would protect herself this time. And she got on with scrubbing her body. It wasn’t as if Dante D’Aquanni was really attracted to her anyway. A man like him would play around with her for pure idle sport.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THAT EVENING AT dinner Alicia tried to eat her wild mushroom soup, pulling again at the top which kept slipping down her shoulder. She had changed purely because the skirt and camisole top had felt too flimsy, too revealing, but this was almost worse.
Dante felt prickly and irritable. He’d spent the afternoon castigating himself for insisting on bringing this woman here. And all the very good, valid reasons for bringing her here had immediately jumped out at him, not least of which was the fact that he still didn’t trust her or her sister an inch. But he knew, if he was honest with himself, that all of his reasons were about as rock-solid as he’d wish to make them. If he didn’t desire her as much as he did, and if that top fell off her shoulder one more time—he stopped his fevered thoughts—then he knew she wouldn’t be here, it was as simple as that.
Alicia put down her spoon and yanked the top up again, but already the material was making its treacherous descent. She sighed and gave up. She heard an inarticulate sound and looked up to see Dante staring at her with such intensity that her
insides melted.
‘What … what is it?’
‘Leave your top alone,’ he gritted out.
Alicia felt confused for a second. ‘My … oh …’
And as if on cue, the shoulder of the light golden silk top slipped again, baring her down to her upper arm. Alicia had hummed and hawed before picking it out of the bag earlier. It had been the next most casual thing in there, along with the linen trousers. She wasn’t able to wear a bra as its design was meant to show off the shoulders.
His voice sounded tortured. ‘It’s meant to fall like that.’
Dio! Didn’t she know that?
Alicia’s stomach felt tight. ‘I know that. I’m just trying not to look like some half naked wanton as we eat dinner. I’d be much happier in my own clothes—’
Dante shuddered delicately. ‘No. They should be burned.’
Alicia rolled her eyes. ‘I mean my real own clothes. My suitcase didn’t make the journey home. That’s why I had a limited wardrobe to choose from. I did a big clear out before going to Africa and, as Melanie is about five inches taller than me, her clothes swamp me. It might be hard to believe, but I’m not a total hick, Dante.’
The hand which held his spoon fell back to the plate and he frowned lightly.
All of a sudden, all she could see and think about was how handsome and compelling Dante looked dressed, in a black shirt and dark trousers. She chattered to fill the silence. ‘I mean, you must wear jeans sometimes. T-shirts?’
‘That’s the first time you’ve said my name.’
‘Didn’t your—what?’
‘The first time you’ve said my name.’
So she had. And it had come out easily—too easily—without thinking. Familiarly. Alicia shrugged and the feel of a light breeze on her bare skin made her shiver slightly. She focused on her soup. ‘Well, I’m going to have to get used to it. I presume I can’t be calling you Mr D’Aquanni in front of the others …’
Dante studied her downbent head, the silken mass of corkscrew curls pulled back and up in a haphazard knot, showing the clean, elegant lines of her neck. When she’d said his name it had reached out and curled itself around his senses, pulling on them with sensual promise.
‘No,’ he said and his voice was curt. His eyes rested on the tempting, smooth curve of that bare shoulder and he shifted in his seat. A heavy tension seemed to envelop them as neither spoke, and it was only when Julieta came in with the next course that Alicia felt she could breathe again.
‘Come out to the terrace; Julieta will serve us coffee there.’
It didn’t sound as if she had a choice. Alicia stood and preceded Dante out of the dining room. Again, she had that sensation of déjà vu. Only a couple of days ago she had fainted at the man’s feet in this very hall and now she was dressed in silk and linen, walking out to the terrace to take some after dinner coffee. She was very aware of him behind her. Her skin prickled and she felt goosebumps come up.
The air outside was warm and silky. Still. It was so quiet and the lake looked so beautiful in the lingering dusk that it took Alicia’s attention away from her situation for a second. She went and rested her hands on the wall, breathing in the scent of fragrant flowers, and felt some kind of weight lift from her shoulders, which was a bizarre sensation to admit to, here, with him.
