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‘I haven’t…gone through life without any problems, I mean. How would I have learned anything or be able to empathise with other people if I’d been problem-free? I’d also be quite superficial…which I’m not.’
‘And here I was, thinking you were just a simple, uncomplicated barmaid, when in fact you’re clearly quite the little philosopher.’
Anna didn’t take the comment as an insult. How could she? As well as the pain glittering in his wintercoloured eyes, locked inside his scathing tone was the suggestion of the blackest kind of despair.
A heartfelt desire to help ease it in some way swept passionately through her.
‘I’m not looking for trouble. You just seemed so alone and sad, sitting there, that I thought that if you wanted to talk…well, I’d be a good listener. Sometimes it’s easier to tell your troubles to a stranger than someone you know. But anyway, if you think that’s impertinent of me, and another drink would help more, then I’ll gladly get you one.’
The man who’d told her to call him Dan raised a shoulder, then dropped it again dismissively.
‘I’m not the unburdening kind, and if you were hoping I might be then I have to tell you that you’re wasting your time. What’s your name? ‘
‘Anna.’
‘That’s it… just Anna?’
‘Anna Bailey.’
A cold sweat broke out across her skin, where previously his disturbing glance had kindled the kind of heat that made dry tinder burst into flames. Was he going to report her or something? She hadn’t meant to insult him. Her only desire had been to help if she could. Was he an important enough customer for a complaint from him to help her lose her job? She prayed not.
The comfortable family-run hotel in a quiet corner of Covent Garden had become her home for the past three years, and she loved everything about it—including her work. She didn’t even mind if she sometimes had to work long hours. Her employers were so kind—generous to a fault, in fact—and her recent pay-rise had helped make life a whole lot more comfortable than when she’d worked at jobs she’d hated and for too little money. Lord knew she didn’t want to go back to struggling again.
‘Look, Mr, er…’
‘I told you to call me Dan.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why? ‘ he snapped, his expression irritated.
‘Because it wouldn’t be professional. I’m an employee here and you’re a guest.’
‘Yet you offered me a shoulder to cry on. Is that on offer to all your guests, Anna?’
She flushed. ‘Of course not. I just wanted to—’
‘So the only thing that prevents you calling me by my first name is that you’re a stickler for the rules and you work here, while I’m a paying customer?’
‘I’d better go.’
‘No—stay. Is there any other reason you can’t be more informal? Like the fact that you’ve got a husband or boyfriend waiting for you at home, perhaps?’
Anna stared helplessly.
‘No.’ She cleared her throat, then glanced round to see if anyone was observing them.
Brian—her young, dark-haired colleague—was wiping down the half-moon-shaped bar and chatting to a customer at the same time, whilst a smartly dressed middle-aged couple sat tenderly holding hands as they lingered over their after-theatre drinks. They’d regaled Anna earlier with tales of the play they’d been to, and their infectious enjoyment was contagious. Twenty-five years married and they were still like young lovers around each other.
Sighing, she turned back to find him broodingly examining her. The sudden jolt of her heartbeat mimicked another heavy brick splashing into a pond as his glance interestedly and deliberately appraised her figure. His gaze lingered boldly on the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts, trailing sensuous fire in its wake. There was nothing provocative about the purple silk blouse with its pretty Chinese collar and the straight grey skirt that denoted her uniform, but when he studied her like that—as if he were imagining her naked and willing in his bed—Anna felt as if there was nowhere to hide.
A trembling excitement soared through her blood at his near-insolent examination. An excitement that was like a gargantuan powerful wave dangerously poised to sweep her into uncharted waters she’d never dared visit before.
‘In that case…I’ve had a change of heart,’ Dante drawled, smiling. ‘Maybe sharing my troubles with a sweet girl like you is just what I need tonight, Anna. What time do you finish?’
‘Around midnight, by the time Brian and I have cashed up.’ How was it possible for her voice to sound so level when inside a roaring furnace was all but consuming her?
‘And how do you normally get home? Do you get a cab?’
‘I live in, actually.’
Just like a popped balloon, her last defence deflated and it was no longer possible for her to pretend that the handsome, hard-jawed stranger hadn’t affected her deeply. The truth was that he held a dangerous fascination for her. She was hypnotised by the simmering aura of sensuality implicit in his rough velvet voice and in the twin lakes of his troubled haunting eyes. As a result, her bones seemed to be held together by running water instead of strong connective tissue. Unable to think straight, Anna knew her returning glance was nervous as she gathered the round wooden tray up close to her chest as though it were a shield.
‘Have you made up your mind about the drink? Only I’ve got to get back to the bar to work.’
‘Another drink can wait.’
Unbuttoning his coat for the first time that evening, Dante handed her his empty glass with another long, slow, meaningful glance. His lean fingers brushed hers. Did she imagine that they lingered there against her skin much longer than necessary? His touch was like being grazed by lightning—deliberate or not.
‘I’m staying here too tonight, Anna. And I think that we should have a drink together when your shift ends… don’t you?’
A definite refusal was on the tip of her tongue, but inside the dogged belief clung that perhaps she really could help him by being a good listener. Her lips pursed tight to prevent it. But when she turned away it was as if some kind of aftershock from their encounter had seized her, because her limbs were shaking almost violently as she crossed the room to rejoin Brian.
There was no understanding such alternating and violent sweeps of emotion, thought Dante. He had just flown into London from his mother’s funeral—the funeral of the one person in the world he had truly loved, who had always been there for him no matter what, who had been like a beacon of light he turned to when he ached to remember that beauty, grace and selfless kindness existed in the world.
Now that she was gone he was heartbroken…truly heartbroken. But another woman also occupied his thoughts right now. His body had somehow acquired a compelling desire to know the touch of a red-haired young witch with sherry-brown eyes that glinted beguilingly like firelight—a girl he had only just met whom he had all but mocked disparagingly when she’d shyly offered him a listening ear. Was it so rare that he met up with a genuinely nice girl that he had to punish her when he did?
His mother would turn in her newly dug grave! Bitterness and despair rising in his gorge, Dante ripped off his wristwatch to discard it onto the nearby polished side-table. His coat followed suit, but he let it fall carelessly onto the bed instead. Several hundred dollars’ worth of the finest cashmere—but what did it signify? His wealth had neither made him a better man nor a more generous one.
His personal assessment was brutally frank. All the businesses and property he had accumulated through mergers and acquisitions had demonstrated to him was how driven and ruthless he’d become. Yes, driven and ruthless—because of an underlying fear of losing it all. An impoverished childhood and a father who had deserted him had seen to that. He’d been so poor in the small mountain village in Italy where he’d grown up that his mother had been forced to earn their bread by dancing and singing for men in seedy bars in the nearby town, and Dante had long ago set his hungry intention for any career he might settle upon to make him wildly and disgustingly rich so that he might rescue them both.
His wealth would act as an insulating buffer between him and the rest of the world, he’d told himself. Then no one would have the chance to hurt him or his mother again, and neither would she have to humiliate herself by parading her beauty in front of men for money. Dante had carried that insulation with him into his marriage and into any other romantic relationship he’d briefly flirted with, forever seeking to protect his emotions. He’d become cold…not to mention a little heartless.
‘No wonder they call you the ice man of the business world,’ his American ex-wife, Marisa, had taunted him.
‘You’re so dedicated to the title that you even bring it home with you!’
At first his mother had been fiercely proud of his rocketing success. He’d bought her the house of her dreams in Lake Como, and made sure she always had plenty of money to buy whatever she wanted. But lately whenever he’d visited her she’d started to profess concern. With one failed marriage and a string of unhappy relationships behind him, it had only seemed to Renata that her son had lost all sense of priority.
It should be the people in his life who were important, she’d told him—not his business or the grand houses he bought—and if he continued in this soulless way then she would sell the richly decorated house on its exclusive plot by the lake and purchase a hut in the hills instead! After all, she’d been raised as a shepherd’s daughter, and she wasn’t ashamed to go back to where she’d begun even if he was. Someone had to show him what values were.
Dante grimaced at the hurtful memory of her distressed face and quavering voice when she’d said this to him in the hospital.
To diffuse his despair he deliberately brought his mind back to the titian-haired Anna Bailey. His reaction was purely male and instinctive, and his body tightened instantly. It was as though someone had stoked a fire beneath his blood and set it ceaselessly simmering. Reaching for his discarded watch, he impatiently scanned the time, all but boring a hole in the door with his naked, hungry glance as he waited for her to arrive—not once allowing himself to think that she wouldn’t…
As if needing to enquire about something, her brooding new friend had leaned across the bar on his way out and whispered softly to Anna, ‘Let’s have that drink together in my room. I’m staying in the suite on the top floor. It would mean a lot to me… especially tonight. Please don’t disappoint me.’
His lips had been a hair’s breadth away from her ear and his warm breath had all but set her alight. The seductive sensation had been the mesmerising equivalent of an intoxicating cocktail she was powerless to refuse. She knew it would make her dizzy and light-headed, but it still held a potent allure she couldn’t ignore.
Anna had watched Dan’s tall broad-shouldered physique as he left the bar with her heart thumping. Now, in the privacy of her room, she blew out a trembling breath, dropping down onto the padded stool in front of the dressing table because she hardly trusted her legs to keep her upright.
The enigmatic stranger was staying in the only suite in the building. It was the most luxurious and gorgeous accommodation she had ever seen. With its beautiful Turkish kelims hanging on the walls, artisan-created bespoke furniture and under-floor heating, no expense had been spared in its creation and it cost a small fortune to stay there for even one night.
Biting her lip, Anna peered into the dressing table mirror to gauge if her expression was as terrified as she felt. Was she really contemplating visiting a male guest in his room? Talking to that lovely couple who’d been to the theatre earlier, she had felt such a pang of envy at their closeness. It wasn’t very often she succumbed to feelings of loneliness, but somehow tonight she had. What had he meant when he’d whispered, It would mean a lot to me…especially tonight? Was he feeling lonely too? Had the funeral she guessed he’d attended been for someone really close to him? His wife perhaps?
A heavy sigh, part compassion, part longing, left her. If anyone saw her go to his room then she really could lose her job. Was the loneliness that had infiltrated her blood tonight making her a little desperate? Not to mention reckless? Sighing again, Anna went into the bathroom to splash her face with cold water.
Back in the main room, she glanced unseeingly at the television that sat there. Somehow a late-night movie or talk show didn’t hold any draw for her. Neither did curling up in bed alone with her thoughts appeal. She’d sensed an inexplicable overwhelming connection to the man who had whispered in her ear downstairs and it was somehow impossible to ignore it. Tomorrow he might be gone, she reasoned feverishly.
She would be wondering what might have been—and the feeling would gnaw away at her if she didn’t act.
With fingers that shook, she freed her hair from the neatly coiled bun she’d got so adept at fashioning for work, then pulled a careless brush through the river of auburn silk that flowed down her back. Pinching her cheeks to make them pinker, she quickly changed into a dark green top and light blue jeans. He only wants to talk, she reassured herself as she walked out into the corridor. But her pulse beat with fright because he might have been looking for something more…something that in her heart of hearts she secretly longed for.
Flicking an anxious glance towards the small elevator that would soundlessly deliver her to the topmost floor, Anna sucked in a breath as she walked towards it.
The memory of Dan and his haunting mist-coloured eyes came back to her, cutting a swathe through her sudden doubt. Just because he was rich it didn’t mean that he didn’t suffer like everyone else…didn’t mean that he didn’t need help sometimes. And from her very first glimpse of him Anna had known he was tortured by something.
The polite welcome he’d intended got locked inside his throat when Dante opened the door to the vision that confronted him. She wore her bright auburn hair loose, and it resembled a burnished autumn sunset cascading down over her shoulders. His stomach muscles clamped tight and the saliva in his mouth dried to a sun-baked desert.
Finding his voice, he murmured, ‘Come in.’
Stepping inside, Anna smiled. It was shy and brief, but it still gave him a jolt that had his heart thrumming with undeniable excitement.
‘What can I get you to drink?’ Moving across the gold and red Chinese rug that covered the main area of the polished wooden floor, Dante paused in front of the dark mahogany glass-fronted cabinet that contained several bottles of spirits behind it and rested his gaze on Anna.
‘Nothing, thanks. Alcohol and me don’t mix, I’m afraid. Just one sip is enough to make me dizzy.’
‘A soft drink, then?’
‘Please… just see to yourself. I’m fine, really.’
Dropping his hands restlessly to his hips, he let a rueful grin hijack his lips.
‘I think I’ve probably had quite enough for one night.’
‘You’ve decided not to drown your sorrows after all?’
‘Not now that you’ve consented to visit me, Anna.’
She crossed her arms over her dark green top, and Dante couldn’t think of a colour that would complement her pale satin skin more. Without warning, the fresh, searing pain of his recent loss swept over him. It returned with renewed force and he wanted to reach out, anchor himself to life again, remind himself that even though his mother had gone beauty and grace were still his to appreciate if only he’d take the trouble to see it. If he brushed up close to such admirable qualities in Anna would it relieve him of the bitter, despairing thoughts that pounded on him so disturbingly? Thoughts that confirmed his growing belief that he must be no good?
Yes, his nature was clearly unlovable and unworthy of regard—hadn’t his own father abandoned him?—so perhaps he deserved abandonment by the people close to him? Especially when he’d been so ruthlessly focused on making himself rich that he scarcely saw the needs of anyone else.
‘It upsets me when you look like that,’ Anna confessed softly.
‘Like what? ‘
‘As if you don’t like yourself very much.’
‘Is there no hiding from that all-seeing gaze of yours?’ Dante retorted uncomfortably.
‘I just want to help you if I can.’
‘Do you? Do you really?’
‘Of course I do. Why do you think I came? Would you like to talk about it?’
‘No, sweetheart. Talking is not what I need right now,’ he answered, gravel-voiced.
And for a man who had prided himself on achieving anything he put his mind to in life it was ironically too difficult a task to keep the raw need that surged through his body like a tidal wave completely out of his tone.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_efea989e-863b-5558-acd0-11def0ea4d78)
IN SLOW motion he reached for Anna’s hand. His eyes—those intense, burning, ethereal eyes—held her willing prisoner, right then becoming her whole world.
‘What do you want?’ she whispered, hardly able to hear over the pounding of her heart. ‘What do you need?’
‘You, Anna…right now I want and need you.’
After that, words became unnecessary. His fingers were slipping through her hair, anchoring her head so that she was placed perfectly for his kiss when he delivered it…when the touch of his lips ignited a heartfelt need that had slumbered achingly inside her for years and promised to more than satisfy it.
She’d always thought that maybe her impassioned secret desires were doomed to remain unrequited. On the rare occasion when she’d allowed herself to overcome her mistrust and be caressed by a man, the experience had never remotely lived up to her hopes. All it had done was leave her feeling vulnerable, scared that she would end up alone and unloved until the end of her days. But now, as his warm velvet tongue so hungrily and devastatingly swept her mouth’s interior, the flavours she tasted rocked her.
Along with passion, fervour and consuming need, Anna was alive to the anger, despair and pain that she tasted too. But she didn’t let such stark emotions scare her…not when they mirrored feelings of her own that she’d often been too afraid to bring into the light. Because of that she innately understood the tumult that flowed heatedly through his blood—good and bad—even if she didn’t know the details.
Crushed to his warm hard chest in its dark roll-necked sweater, she felt musky male heat and sexy woody cologne captivate her senses as he ravished her in the starved, insatiable way she’d always dreamt of being loved by a man. Holding on to his hard-muscled biceps to keep from falling, Anna feverishly and willingly paid him back in kind. And in her head echoed the advice from her mother that she’d never forgotten: Only give yourself to someone you love.
On the bed in a room where in their haste to be together they hadn’t even paused to turn on a light they raided each other’s clothes with trembling hands—desperate for skin on skin contact and more drugging open-mouthed kisses that promised to last all night long. And if he’d temporarily lost his mind in taking this young red-haired beauty to bed then Dante heartily welcomed the state. She was the first really good thing that had happened to him in ages, and he wasn’t about to question his good fortune.
The intoxicating feminine scent of her body had already taken up residence in his blood, and it thrummed with wanting her. The arresting sight of that rippling blanket of fiery hair on the silk cream pillow behind her head made a stirring, ravishing picture that he would not soon forget. Now, as his hands eagerly caressed the smooth, slender contours of Anna’s body, the breathless gasps she emitted made him blind to any other sensation but their wild and heady mutual desire. He was all but desperate to plunge inside her, to forget everything except the unrestrained thundering joy of the chemistry that had exploded between them from almost the first glance, to relegate the darkness that had recently threatened to suffocate him, to the shadows.
Sensing her stiffen a little as he explored her heat with his fingers, Dante rose up to cup and stroke her face. A duty that should have been at the forefront of his dazzled mind suddenly stabbed at his conscience.
‘I’m sorry, Anna…I should protect you. Is that what you are concerned about? ‘
‘It’s okay,’ she sighed, dark eyes shy. ‘I’m protected already. I’m on the pill.’
For an indeterminate amount of time Dante got lost in her wide fire-lit stare, and then he came to and kissed her. The caress seemed to gentle her. Then, his blood flowing with increasing desire and demand, slowly, care fully, he drove himself deep inside her. The heat that exploded around him was incredible.
Anna’s sherry-brown eyes smouldered and brightened at the same time, but Dante had not missed the momentary flash of apprehension in her beautiful glance either. Too aroused and aching to wonder about it for long, he felt his body naturally assume the age-old rhythm that would take him to the destination and release he longed for…a destination that could and would free him for a while from the merciless torment that had deluged him when his mother had breathed her last laboured breath in his arms. Instead of grief and misery, ecstasy and bliss would be his. And for a blessed short time, at least, all the hurt would be swept away.
His strength of purpose all but overwhelmed Anna as she watched him move over her, his arrow-straight hips slamming into hers as his loving became ever more intense, ever more voracious. By instinct and by desire she wound her long legs round his back, until he was so deep inside her that she felt as if her body no longer existed just as one. Instead, she and he had become a single entity, with two hearts beating wildly in tandem and mind, body and spirit in stunning accord. She had given herself to him without doubt that it was the right thing. destined, even.
Would it scare him to know that she thought that? A girl he had just met, to whom he probably wouldn’t even give the time of day normally?
In the soft darkness that seemed to be growing ever lighter as Anna’s eyes grew more accustomed to it his smooth muscles rippled like warm steel beneath her trembling, caressing fingers. His breath was harshly ragged as he alternately devoured her lips and then, with that same hot, tormenting mouth, moved lower to caress her breasts. He suckled the rigid aching tips in turn, and Anna couldn’t withhold the heated moan that broke free. It was as though her very womb rejoiced when he touched and caressed her.
When he rose up again to capture her lips in another hotly exploring and intimate kiss, something inside her started irrevocably to unravel, to spiral dizzyingly out of control. At first, because she was nervous of being so vulnerable and exposed in front of him, Anna tensed, trying to stem the sensation. But at that same moment she stared up at him, to find the corners of his oh-so-sensuous lips lifting in what might have well been a quietly knowing smile, and she completely gave up trying to control what was happening.
