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“Yet another way,” he murmured, “in which you are different from any woman I’ve met.”
“Because I don’t swoon at your feet?”
Stefano gave that same low, sensual laugh.
“Sí,” he said with visible amusement. “Most women do swoon, believe it or not. But it’s more than that.”
As he looked at her, searing her with his intense gaze, she felt her skin flush with heat and her body start to melt. Please, don’t let me swoon, she prayed. Don’t let me make an utter fool of myself.
Setting her wineglass down, she sat back in her chair. “You said you wished to talk about work. Let’s talk about that.”
“Is work really all you care about?” “Yes.”
“I can hardly believe such a beautiful woman would say such a thing,” he said softly.
Was he flirting with her? Was he?
She started to reach for her wine, then caught herself and angrily pushed it away.
Stupid wine!
Stupid candlelight!
Stupid handsome man who was like a dark prince out of a sensual dream!
“My work is all that matters,” she bit out forcefully. “It is all I care about.”
He stared at her, his brow furrowed.
“That’s wrong,” he said. “You are a young, desirable woman. Enjoy your work, yes.
But there’s so much more to life.”
“Not for me,” she said, lifting her chin.
“Especially for you. I admire your work a great deal, Annabelle. You have an eye like no other photographer today. So take my advice or leave it, as you choose.” He sat back in his chair casually, breaking the spell. “But you might consider taking pictures of the yearlings on the upper slope …”
As they discussed various aspects of the ranch, he gave her suggestions about people and animals and the best angles of his ranch’s rugged landscape. They finished their dinner, but just as Annabelle started to relax into a business discussion, he suddenly asked with gleaming eyes, “So have you decided about me yet?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you decided if I am a brilliant huckster or a saint?”
She flushed, then met his gaze steadily. “I haven’t decided yet. Maybe neither. Maybe just a man.”
He leaned toward her.
“I want you to know me,” he said softly. “All of me.”
She felt hot beneath his gaze, then he leaned back again in his chair. “I set the price of my horses high for a reason. No one buys them who is not prepared to treat them like gold.”
She snorted. “Because they are just as expensive, pound for pound.”
“You think I am greedy?”
“No. I think you are arrogant and proud.”
His lips curved as he said softly, “What else do you think you know about me?”
