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“You’re the only woman I care about, the only woman I—”
“Don’t say it,” she cut in sharply, tumbling out of her role with a vengeance. “Not unless you mean it. Because I know you don’t care. Not really.”
“I do.”
She shook her head. “No. You love all women. I’m just one of many.”
“You’re right. I admit it. I do love women.” He dropped the playacting as well, his gaze turning serious. Deadly serious. “I love all women, young and old, short and tall, with dark hair scraped back in a bun or with long blond hair left loose around the shoulders. They are all beautiful to me.”
She gazed up at him in alarm, resisting the urge to touch her hair. Nerves gripped her and she whispered, “Then you admit it?”
His index finger brushed her lower lip, the caress fleeting, yet potent. “I admit only that I love all women. I love the diversity of their appearance. I love the unique scent of a woman, musky or flowery or as fresh as the first breath of spring. I love to listen to them speak, how one will sound rough and smoky and another as smooth and rich as maple syrup. I love to watch them move, all long limbed and coltish or tiny dynamos bustling with energy. But my favorites are those who dance to some inner music only they can hear, supple and graceful and filled with the joy of living. Like you.”
She shook her head. “No, don’t say any more.”
But he didn’t stop. Instead his hands cupped her shoulders, his thumbs stroking the sensitive hollow of her throat. “Did you know that touching a woman is one of life’s greatest joys? To explore each silken curve and feel the hot rush of her passion. To hold her in your arms and know that your touch brings her to life.”
She wanted to jerk away, but she couldn’t. Not while hampered by the baby. Hampered by her reaction to his words, his touch. “Luc, you shouldn’t say these things to me,” she insisted weakly.
“But I haven’t told you the best part about women. Do you know what it is?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “It’s their taste. The taste of a woman is a gift from the gods. It’s headier than the finest wine and more intoxicating than the strongest rum. And it only improves with age and experience.”
She shut her eyes, afraid to look at him, afraid of the passion she’d read in his face. “You’re forgetting about Brand and Carina,” she whispered. She should be watching the monitor but couldn’t tear her gaze from Luc’s.
“I haven’t forgotten them,” he denied. “You accuse me of loving women, and I admit my guilt. You’re right. I do love women. But how I feel about them is nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to how I feel about you.”
She shook her head, holding Tony tight to her breast. “You tell such sweet lies, beautiful lies. But that’s all they are. Lies. Women fascinate you. You find them irresistible. Too irresistible to ever settle for one.”
“You’re wrong.” His voice was deep and husky, the underlying lilt more pronounced than ever. “Once a Salvatore falls in love, it’s forever. He never strays.”
She forced herself to look at him again, to try and judge the degree of honesty in his expression. “I don’t believe you.”
“Yes, you do, because it’s the truth. Salvatores never stray. Never.” Then he released her and stepped back. “And that,cara mia, is what Brand is saying to Carina. It’s what I’d say in his place to the woman I loved.”
Grace blinked, the spell of words he’d cast slowly fading. She didn’t know what to think, what to say, let alone what to feel. Out of desperation she focused on the monitor. “Luc, look!”
Carina and Brand were no longer arguing. Action seemed to be the order of the day. Gesturing wildly, Carina grabbed a huge porcelain flower vase from off a pedestal beside the front door and dumped the contents over the top of Brand’s head. Water, gladioli and bits of fern dripped from his shoulders and puddled on the floor.
Grace winced. “I guess his explanation wasn’t as smooth as yours,” she murmured.
“I guess not. But she shouldn’t have done that.” Luc sighed. “He’s not going to take it at all well.”
Sure enough, Brand exploded, gesturing wildly. Just then, Edward appeared on the scene. Eyes practically popping out of his head, he attempted to brush the flower petals and pieces of greenery from Brand’s suit.
“I wish Carina would put that vase down,” Grace said, shifting Tony to her shoulder.
“It’s where she’ll put it down that worries me.”
No sooner had he spoken, than Edward endeavored to wrest the vase from Carina’s hands. For a few tense seconds they tussled. Jerking it free, it flew from Edward’s hands and crashed against the side of Brand’s head. He went down like a felled tree.
Luc swore and raced for a phone, hitting the extension for the security desk. “Call the staff doctor to help Brand. I’ll be right there.”
“Luc, wait,” Grace called in a panic. “You better check this out first. It doesn’t look good.”
They could no longer see Brand. A huge crowd had gathered around him, blocking the view. Off to one side, security men were converging on Carina, who wept copiously. Far worse, two police officers came bursting through the front doors. Carina looked from the security men to the police, and apparently decided the law was a safer bet than the furious employees of a stricken Salvatore. She darted to their side.
“I don’t know what tale of woe she’s spinning, but it’s making quite an impression,” Luc said in disgust. “She’ll be gone before I even reach the elevators. Yep. There she goes. Out the door, into the first cab that passes by, and on her way to the airport.”
“What about Brand?” Grace asked in concern.
