скачать книгу бесплатно
Matilda nodded. ‘Less perhaps. I’ll know more tomorrow once it’s cleared. I’ve got some people coming at six. There’ll be a lot of noise, but only tomorrow…’
‘That’s fine. Katrina has already said she will take Alex out or to her place during the day. You’ll have the place to yourself…’ He paused and Matilda wondered if he was going to raise the money issue again, but instead it was a rather more difficult subject he brought up. ‘I’m sorry she made you feel uncomfortable.’
‘She didn’t,’ Matilda attempted, then gave in as he raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘OK, she did make me feel a bit uncomfortable, but it’s fine.’
‘I’ll take you and show you the summerhouse. But you don’t have to cook for yourself, you’re very welcome to come over for—’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Matilda interrupted. ‘In fact, it’s probably better that I stay there…’ Blowing her fringe skyward, Matilda attempted the impossible but, ever direct, Dante beat her to it.
‘After what happened on Friday?’ He checked and despite a deep blush Matilda gave a wry smile.
‘I don’t think Katrina would approve somehow if she knew. She doesn’t even know that we had dinner, let alone…’
‘It’s none of Katrina’s business,’ Dante pointed out, but Matilda shook her head.
‘Oh, but she thinks it is.’
‘Matilda.’ His black eyes were boring into her, and she could only admire his boldness that he could actually look at her, unlike she, herself, who gave in after once glance, choosing instead to stare at her toes as he spoke. ‘I will tell you what I told Katrina. I have no interest in a relationship—any relationship. For now I grieve for what I have lost: a wife and the happiness of my daughter.’ Still she looked down, swallowing down the questions that were on the tip of her tongue. But either he could read her mind or he had used this speech many times before, because he answered each and every one of them with painful, brutal honesty, his silken, thick accent doing nothing to sweeten the bitterness of the message.
‘I like women—I like beautiful women,’ he drawled, wrapping the knife that stabbed her in velvet as he plunged it in. ‘And as you would have seen in the paper yesterday, sometimes I keep their company, but there is always concurrence, always there is an understanding that it can go nowhere. If I misled you on Friday, I apologise.’
‘You didn’t mislead me.’ Matilda croaked the words out then instantly regretted them. In that split second she understood what Dante was offering her, what this emotionally abstinent man was telling her—that she could have him for a short while, could share his bed, but not his heart. And all Matilda knew was that she couldn’t do it, couldn’t share his bed knowing she must walk away, that deadening his pain would only exacerbate hers. His hand reached out towards her, his fingers cupping her chin, lifting her face to his. Yet she still refused to look at him, knew that if her eyes met his then she’d be lost.
‘You didn’t mislead me, Dante, because it was just a kiss.’ Somehow she kept her voice even; somehow she managed to keep her cheeks from flaming as she lied through her teeth. ‘A kiss to end the evening. I certainly had no intention of taking things further, either then or now.’ She knew she hadn’t convinced him and from the slight narrowing of his eyes knew that he didn’t believe her. Taking a breath, she elaborated, determined to set the tone, and the boundaries in order to survive the next couple of weeks. She didn’t want to be one of Dante’s ships that passed in the night. ‘Since Edward and I broke up, I’ve been on a few dates, had a few kisses, but…’ Matilda gave a nervous shrug. ‘You know the saying: you have to kiss a lot of frogs…’ From his slightly startled look clearly he didn’t know it. ‘One kiss was enough for me, Dante.’
‘I see.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘I think.’
‘It won’t be happening again,’ Matilda affirmed, hoping that if she said it enough she might even believe it herself.
‘I just wanted to clear things up.’
‘Good.’ Matilda forced a bright smile, relieved this torture was almost over. ‘I’m glad that you did.’
‘And I’m sorry that you did not enjoy the kiss.’ His words wiped the smile from her face, his eyes boring into her. She couldn’t be sure, but Matilda was positive he was teasing her, that he knew she was lying and, of course, she was. It had been the most breathtaking kiss of her life, her whole body was burning now just at the mere memory, but it was imperative Dante didn’t know. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in anything more than the most casual of casual flings, and that was the last thing she needed now—especially with a man like Dante. There was nothing casual about him, nothing casual about the feelings he evoked, and if she played with this particular fire, Matilda knew she’d end up seriously burnt. ‘Because I thought that—’
‘Could you show me where I’m staying, please?’ Matilda snapped, following Dante’s lead and refusing to be drawn somewhere she didn’t want to go. She turned abruptly to go, but in her haste to escape she forgot about the blackberries. Her leg caught on a branch, the thorn ripping into her bare calf, a yelp of pain escaping her lips.
‘Careful.’ Dante’s reflexes were like lightning. He pulled back the branch and held her elbow as Matilda stepped back and instinctively inspected the damage, tears of pain and embarrassment filling her eyes at the vivid red gash.
‘I’m fine,’ she breathed.
‘You’re bleeding.’
‘It’s just a scratch. If you can just show me where I’m staying…’ she said. She almost shouted it this time she so badly wanted out of there, wanted some privacy from his knowing eyes, but Dante was pulling out a neatly folded hanky and running it under the garden tap, before returning and dropping to his knees.
‘Please.’ Matilda was practically begging now, near to tears, not with pain but with embarrassment and want, the thought of him touching her exquisitely unbearable. But Dante wasn’t listening. One hand cupped her calf, the other pressed the cool silk into her stinging cut, and it was as soothing as it was disturbing—the ultimate pleasure-pain principle as his hands tended her, calming and arousing. Matilda bit so hard on her lip she thought she might draw blood there, too, her whole body tense, standing rigid as he pressed the handkerchief harder, her stomach a knot of nervous anticipation as she felt his breath against her thigh.
‘I’ll just press for a minute and stop the bleeding, then I’ll take you over to the summerhouse…’ Strange that his voice was completely normal, that his body was completely relaxed, while hers was spinning in wild orbit, stirred with naked lust, shameful, inappropriate thoughts filling her mind as he tended her. She couldn’t believe her own thought process as she stood there, gazing down. His fingers were pushed into her calf as the cool silk pressed on her warm skin, his breath on her leg as he spoke. And how she wanted to feel that delicious mouth again, but on her thigh this time, almost willing with her eyes for his fingers to creep higher, to quell the pulse that was leaping between her legs, to calm the heat with his cool, cool hand. ‘I think there’s a first-aid box…’
‘I’ll be OK.’ She shivered the words out.
‘Of course you will, it’s just a cut, but…’ His voice faded as he looked up at her, his eyes fixing on hers. And she stared back, trapped like a deer in the headlights, knowing he could feel it now, could see her treacherous arousal, could smell her excitement, knew that she had lied when she had said she didn’t want him.
The silence fizzed between them as he continued to stare, and for that moment the choice was entirely his—reason, logic, had gone the second he’d touched her. If Dante pulled her down now, they both knew that she wouldn’t even attempt to resist…
‘Matilda…’ His voice was thick with lust, his eyes blatantly desiring her. Thank God he spoke, thank God he broke the spell, gave her that tiny moment to stab at self-preservation and pull back her leg. Her face flaming she turned around, denied absolutely what was taking place, turning and heading for the gate, practically wrenching it open, just desperate for some space, some distance, a chance to think before her body betrayed her again.
There for the taking.
Those were the words he’d taunted her with on Friday night and those were the words that taunted her now as he led her over to the summerhouse and briefly showed her around.
As the door closed on Dante, not even looking at her surroundings, Matilda sank onto the bed and buried her face in her hands, cringing with shame, as sure as she could be that Dante had witnessed her arousal, had sensed her desire.
What was wrong with her? She wasn’t even, according to Edward, supposed to like sex, yet here she was acting like some hormone-laden teenage girl with a king-sized crush, contemplating an affair with a man who wanted nothing more than her body.
And how she was contemplating! Despite her attempts at indifference, despite her brave words before, she wanted him. But unlike Dante, it wasn’t just bed she wanted but the prelude to it and the postscript afterwards, the parts of him he wasn’t prepared to give.
For the first time she took in her surroundings. The summerhouse was certainly comfortable—in fact, it was gorgeous. A cedar attic-shaped building, tucked away at the rear of the property, no doubt it had once been a rather impressive shed, but it had been lovingly refurbished, the attention to detail quite amazing. A small kitchenette as you entered, and to the left a small en suite with a shower, the rest of the floor space taken up by a large bed and a television and CDs. Janet, the rather prim housekeeper, came over with her bags and filled up the fridge with produce, explaining that the previous owners had used it as a bed and breakfast, but since the Costellos had owned it, for the most part it had remained empty.
‘Mr Costello wanted to know if you’ll be joining him for dinner,’ Janet said, once she had stocked up the fridge with enough food to feed a small army. ‘It’s served at seven-thirty once young Alex is in bed, except for Tuesdays and Thursdays. I have my bible class on those nights…’
‘No,’ Matilda quickly answered, then softened her rather snappy response with a smile. ‘I mean, tell him, no, thank you,’ she added.
‘I’ll bring your dinner over to you,’ Janet offered, but Matilda stood firm.
‘There’s really no need. I’ll just have a sandwich or something, or go out to one of the cafés.’
‘As you wish.’ Janet shrugged as she headed out the door. ‘But if you need anything, just ring through.’
Alone, Matilda changed into her working clothes—a pair of faded denim shorts that had seen better days and a flimsy T-shirt, topping the rather unflattering ensemble off with a pair of socks and her workboots. She poked her tongue out at her reflection in the mirror—at least Katrina would be pleased! Grateful for the diversion of the garden to take her mind off Dante, she turned on her mobile, winced at the rather full message bank, then promptly chose to ignore it, instead ringing the various people she would be needing, firming up a time with Declan to bring his bob-cat and confirming the large number of skips she had ordered to be delivered at Dante’s in the morning. Then she headed off to the garden armed with a notebook and tape measure, ready to turn her vision into the plans that would become a reality. She lost herself for hours, as she always did when a project engrossed her, only downing tools and heading for the summerhouse when the last fingers of light had faded, hot, thirsty and exhausted, ready for a long, cool drink, followed by a long cool shower…
But not a cold one!
Yelping in alarm, Matilda fiddled with the taps, but to no avail, realising with a sinking heart that no amount of wishful thinking was going to change things: the hot-water system really wasn’t working. Grabbing a towel, Matilda wrapped it around her and sat shivering on the bed, trying and failing to decide what on earth to do. If she had been here for a couple of weeks to type up notes or fix some accounts then somehow she’d have struggled through, but even if her business cards screamed the words ‘landscape designer,’ at the end of the day gardening was a dirty job—filthy at times. And a fortnight of black nails and grit in her hair wasn’t a prospect Matilda relished. Of course, the obvious thing to do would be to ring Janet and explain the situation but, then, there was nothing obvious about this situation—the absolute last place she wanted to be was crossing Dante’s manicured lawn clutching her toiletry bag! Eyeing the kettle, Matilda rolled her eyes, the irony of her situation hitting home as she filled the tiny sink and swished a bar of soap around to make bubbles—here she was in a multi-million dollar home, and washing like a pauper!
CHAPTER FIVE
GOD, it was hot.
Matilda filled up her water bottle from the tap and surveyed the barren scene.
The morning had been crisp—par for the course in Melbourne. Used to the elements, she’d layered her clothing—gallons of sunscreen, followed by boots and shorts, a crop top, a T-shirt, a long-sleeved top, a jumper and a hat. Up at the crack of dawn, she’d greeted the workers and given her directions. Money wasn’t the problem, time was, so a small army had been hired for the messy job of clearing the site. They all worked well, the skips filling quickly. As the day warmed up the jumper was the first to go, followed an hour or so later by her cotton top, and as each layer of clothing came off Matilda, so too did the garden start to emerge—until finally, long since down to her crop top, the late afternoon sun burning into her shoulders, Matilda surveyed her exhausting day’s work. The subcontractors had finally gone, the skips noisily driven away, leaving the site bare and muddy apart from the gorgeous willow. At last she had her blank canvas!
Gulping on her water bottle, Matilda walked around the site, checking the fence, pleased to see that it was in good order. All it needed was a few minor repairs and a spraypaint but there was nothing that could be done this evening—she was too tired anyway. All Matilda wanted to do now was pack up her things and head for her temporary home. Actually, all Matilda wanted to do was leave her things and head for home, but mindful of safety she reluctantly headed over to the pile of equipment. She splashed some water from her bottle onto her face and decided more desperate measures were needed. Taking off her hat, she filled it and sloshed it onto her head, closing her eyes in blessed relief as the water ran down her face and onto her shoulders. Feeling the sting of cold on her reddened face and catching her breath, Matilda delighted in a shiver for a moment, before the sun caught up.
‘Matilda.’ The familiar voice made her jump. She’d been so sure she was alone, but here she was, soaked to the skin at her own doing, face smeared with mud, squinting into the low sunlight at the forebidding outline of Dante. ‘I startled you. I’m sorry to barge in.’
‘Not at all!’ She shook her head and tried to look not remotely startled. ‘It’s your garden after all—I was just packing up.’ Brutally aware of the mess she looked and with two nipples sticking out of her soaking top, thanks to the halflitre of water she’d just poured over herself, Matilda busied herself clearing up her tools as Dante came over.
‘I thought I’d bring Alex to see the garden before she went to bed.’ He was carrying her, which was just as well. It was rather more a demolition site than a garden at the moment. Dante picked his way around the edge and let Alex down on the one grassed area left—under the willow tree. It was only patchily grassed, but at least it was clean and dry—and given that the little girl was dressed in her nighty and had clearly had her bedtime bath, it was just as well. Matilda gave up in pretending to look at her tools and watched him as he came over. He was wearing shorts and runners—and no socks, which just accentuated the lean, muscular length of his brown calves. His whole body seemed incredibly toned, actually—and Matilda momentary wondered how. He didn’t seem the type for a gym and he spent an immoderate time at the office.
‘Hi, Alex.’ Matilda smiled at the little girl, not remotely fazed by the lack of her response, just enchanted by her beauty. ‘I know it looks a terrible mess now, but in a few days it will look wonderful.’
Alex didn’t even appear to be looking—her eyes stared fixedly ahead. A little rigid figure, she stood quite still as Matilda chatted happily to her, explaining what was going to happen over the next few days, pointing out where the water features would be, the sand pit and the enchanted castle.
‘You’ve got a lot done today,’ Dante observed. ‘What happens now?’
‘The boring stuff,’ Matilda answered. ‘I’ve got the plumber and electrician coming tomorrow and then the concreters, but once all that’s out the way, hopefully it will start to take shape a bit.’ And though she longed to ask about his day, longed to extend the conversation just a touch longer, deliberately she held back, determined that it must be Dante who came to her now—she’d already been embarrassed enough. But the silence was excruciating as they stood there, and it was actually a relief when Dante headed over to his daughter and went to pick her up.
‘Time for bed, little lady.’ Something twisted inside Matilda at the tenderness in his voice, the strong gentle arms that lowered to lift his daughter. But Alex resisted, letting out a furious squeal that pierced the quiet early evening air, arching her back, her little hands curling into fists. Matilda’s eyes widened at the fury that erupted in the little girl, stunned to witness the change in this silent, still, child. But clearly used to this kind of response, Dante was way too quick for Alex, gently but firmly taking her wrists and guiding her hands to her sides.
‘No!’ he said firmly. ‘No hitting.’
With a mixture of tenderness and strength he picked Alex up, clasping her furious, resisting body to his chest, utterly ignoring the shrill screams, just holding her ever tighter. Finally she seemed to calm, the screams, the fury abating until finally Dante smiled wryly as he caught Matilda’s shocked eyes. ‘Believe it or not, I think you just received a compliment. Normally I don’t have to even ask to bring her in from the garden. Perhaps she is going to like it after all.’
Two compliments even! Matilda thought to herself. Was Dante actually saying he liked her plans as well?
‘I’ll take her inside and get her to bed.’ Matilda gazed at the little girl, now resting in her father’s arms. Not a trace of the angry outburst of only moments before remained, her dark eyes staring blankly across the wilderness of the garden. ‘Are you finishing up?’
‘Soon.’ Matilda nodded. ‘I’m just going to pack my things.’
‘You’re welcome to come over for dinner…’
‘No, thanks!’ Matilda said, and she didn’t offer an explanation, didn’t elaborate at all, just turned her back and started to pack up her things.
‘It’s no trouble,’ Dante pushed, but still she didn’t turn around, determined not to give him the satisfaction of drawing her in just to reject her again, just to change his mind or hurt her with cruel words. ‘I just warm the meal up tonight. Janet has her Alcoholics Anonymous meetings on Mondays and Thursdays.’
‘But she said she had…’ Matilda swung around then snapped her mouth closed, furious with herself for responding.
‘Everyone has their secrets, remember.’ Dante shrugged then gave her the benefit of a very wicked smile. ‘Come,’ he offered again.
‘No,’ Matilda countered. This time she didn’t even bother to be polite, just turned her back on him and started to sort out her things, only letting out the breath she had been holding when, after the longest time, she heard the click of the gate closing. Alex didn’t just have her father’s eyes, Matilda realised, she had his personality, too. They shared the same dark, lonely existence, cruelly, capriciously striking out at anyone they assumed was getting too close, yet somehow drawing them in all the same, somehow managing to be forgiven.
A cold shower mightn’t be so bad, Matilda attempted to convince herself as she gingerly held her fingers under the jets. All day she’d been boiling, all day she’d longed to cool down—but the trouble with her line of work was that there was absolutely no chance of a quick dart in the shower. Her hair was stiff with dust, her fingers black from the soil, her skin almost as dark as Dante’s.
Biting down on her lip, Matilda dived into the shower, yelping as the icy water hit her. Forcing herself to put her head under, she frantically rubbed in shampoo, praying that in a moment she’d acclimatise, that the freezing water might actually merely be cool after a couple of minutes’ more torture. Only it wasn’t. Her misery lasted long after she’d turned the beastly taps off and wrapped a towel around her, her poorly rinsed hair causing a river of stinging of water to hit her eyes. Shivering and cursing like the navvy Katrina had hoped for, Matilda groped for the door handle, wrenching it open and storming head first into a wall of flesh.
‘When were you going to tell me?’ Dante demanded. ‘I could hear you screaming…’
Matilda stood in shook. ‘Are you spying on me?’ She felt embarrassed and enraged. Her bloodshot, stinging eyes focused on the walkie-talkie he was holding in his hand.
‘It’s a child monitor,’ he explained with infinite patience, as if she were some sort of mentally unhinged person he was talking down from the roof. But she could see the tiny twitch on his lips, knew that inside he was laughing at her, her misery, her embarrassment increasing as he carried on talking. ‘Janet left a note, telling me about the water. I just read it, so will you, please, collect your belongings so that I can help you bring your things over.’
‘There’s really no need for that,’ Matilda insisted, feeling horribly exposed and vulnerable and also somewhat deflated that even standing before him, her body drenched, clearly naked under a towel, she didn’t move him at all. ‘I’ve got a plumber coming tomorrow…’
‘Matilda.’ He gave a weary sigh. ‘My daughter is asleep in the house alone so could you, please, just…?’ He faltered for just a fraction of a second, telling her in that fraction of time that she had been wrong—that Dante was very aware of her near-nakedness. She clutched the towel tighter around her, scuffed the floor with her dripping foot as immediately he continued. ‘Get dressed, Matilda,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll come back for your things later.’
Which really didn’t leave her much choice.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS a very shy, rather humble Matilda that joined Dante at the heavy wooden table that was the centrepiece of his impressive al fresco area, the beastly child monitor blinking at her on the table as she approached, her face darkening to purple as she realised she’d practically accused the man of stalking her. She braced herself for a few harsh words Dante-style but instead he poured an indecent amount of wine into her glass then pushed it across the table to her.
‘Is red OK?’
‘Marvellous,’ Matilda lied, taking a tentative sip, surprised to find that this particular red actually was OK, warming her from the inside out. Holding the massive glass in her pale hand, she stared at the dark liquid, anything rather than look at him, and started a touch when the intercom crackled loudly.
‘Static,’ Dante explained, pressing a button. ‘Someone down the road mowing their lawn or drying their hair. I just change the channel, see.’
‘Oh.’
‘You don’t have any experience with children, do you?’
‘None,’ Matilda answered. ‘I mean, none at all. Well apart from my friend, Sally…’
‘She has a baby?’
‘No.’ Matilda gave a pale smile. ‘But she’s thought that she might be pregnant a couple of times.’
He actually laughed, and it sounded glorious, a deep rich sound, his white teeth flashing. Matilda was amazed after her exquisite discomfort of only a moment ago to find herself actually laughing, too, her pleasure increasing as Dante gave a little bit more, actually revealed a piece of himself, only not with the impassive voice he had used before but with genuine warmth and emotion, his face softer somehow, his voice warmer as this inaccessible man let her in a touch, allowed her to glimpse another dimension to his complex nature.
‘Until Alex was born, apart from on television, I don’t think I’d ever seen a newborn.’ He frowned, as if examining that thought for the first time. ‘No, I’m sure I hadn’t. My mother was the youngest of seven children. All my cousins were older and I, too, was the youngest—very spoiled!’
‘I can imagine.’ Matilda rolled her eyes, but her smile remained as Dante continued.
‘Then this tiny person appeared and suddenly I am supposed to know.’ He spread his hands expressively, but words clearly failed him.
‘I’d be terrified,’ Matilda admitted.
‘I was,’ Dante stated. ‘Still am, most of the time.’
Her smile faded, seeing him now not as the man that moved her but as the single father he was, trying yet knowing she was failing to fathom the enormity of the task that had been so squarely placed on his shoulders.
‘It must be hard.’
‘It is.’ Dante nodded and didn’t sweeten it with the usual superlatives that generally followed such a statement, didn’t smile and eagerly nod that it was more than worth it, or the best thing he’d ever done in his life. He just stared back at her for the longest time, before continuing, ‘I have a big trial starting next week, but once that it is out of the way, I need to make a decision.’
‘Whether to move back to Italy?’
Dante nodded. ‘Every doctor I have consulted tells me that Alex needs a routine, that she needs a solid home base—at the moment I am having trouble providing that. Katrina is only too willing to help, but…’ He hesitated and took a long sip of his drink. Matilda held her breath, willing him to continue, to glean a little more insight into the problems he faced. ‘She wants to keep Jasmine alive, doesn’t want anything that might detract from her daughter’s memory, which is understandable, of course, only sometimes…’
‘It’s a bit much?’ Matilda tentatively offered, relieved when he didn’t frown back at her, relieved that maybe she understood just a little of what he was feeling.
‘Much too much,’ Dante agreed, then terminated the conversation, standing up and gesturing. ‘I will show you the guest room, it’s already made up—then we can eat.’
‘I might just grab a sandwich or something when I get my things,’ Matilda started, but Dante just ignored her, leading her through the house and upstairs, gesturing for her to be quiet as they tiptoed past Alex’s room, before coming to a large door at the end of the hallway.
Clearly Dante’s idea of a guest room differed from Matilda’s somewhat—her version was a spare room with a bed and possibly an ironing board for good measure. But Dante’s guests were clearly used to better. As he pushed open the door and she stepped inside, Matilda realised just how far she’d been relegated by Katrina. Till then the summerhouse had been more than OK, but it wasn’t a patch on this! A massive king-sized bed made up with crisp white linen was the focus point of the fabulously spacious room, but rather than being pushed against the wall and sensibly facing a door, as most of the population would have done, instead it stood proudly in the middle, staring directly out of one of the massive windows Matilda had till now only glimpsed from the outside, offering a panoramic view of the bay. Matilda thought she must have died and gone to heaven—ruing every last minute she’d spent struggling on in the summerhouse when she could have been here!
