They looked as if they had been pulverised between Danny’s wringing hands.
‘You do eat carbs?’ she asked worriedly.
He raised an amused brow. ‘Please...’
‘Okay.’ She risked a smile. ‘Only some sportsmen—’
Danny had stopped talking, as if something in his face had made her think he was going to kiss her. It was sad to think his wife knew so little about him—but then they were both to blame for that.
‘We should eat,’ he said, moving away to give her space. ‘Annie’s made a feast for us. I’ll show you round later, if you like?’
‘I’d like...’ Danny’s brows drew together, as if she was trying to figure him out. ‘If this library is anything to go by, I suspect you’ve worked wonders on the rest of the house.’
‘You can judge for yourself after supper.’
* * *
She had seriously underestimated the effect of being close to Tiago after having spent so much time apart from him. When he didn’t look at her, her heart thundered with disappointment. And when he did look at her she could hardly breathe. And through all this she was supposed to appear cool and detached...
It shouldn’t be hard, when Tiago was so calm, but keeping her own counsel was proving almost impossible when she longed to ask him about so many things. Like what was left between them now Tiago no longer needed a wife?
Maybe the answer was in his manner. He was behaving more like an old friend keen to show her round his new house than a lover—let alone a husband. She would just have to adapt to this new situation between them, and fall into a similar role.
* * *
They took the tour after supper. He had to try very hard not to notice the soft dark green wool stretching over the plump swell of Danny’s buttocks as she walked in front of him, or her nipples pressing against the soft fabric through the fine lace of her bra. He concentrated instead on his wife’s animated face and the brilliance of her eyes, and relished the fact that it was thanks to Danny that he had learned so much about himself. He knew now that he wasn’t wholly gaucho or playboy, but a man determined to do his best. And if that meant curbing his playboy ways...
‘I like you here,’ Danny murmured as she looked around his home. ‘You seem more real.’
He laughed. ‘Do you mean I’m a hologram in Brazil?’
‘No. A barbarian,’ she said without hesitation.
‘Would you have me any other way?’
From the blush on her cheeks, he guessed not.
She started making thoughtful comments about the décor, but all he could think about was taking her to bed, pleasuring her through the night, and not even bothering to muffle her screams of pleasure.
Yes, he had aimed for discreet but sumptuous country casual, he agreed distractedly. And, yes again, he was glad she approved of the colour scheme. But frankly he wasn’t interested in jewel colours and expensive art when he had a living, breathing work of art standing in front of him, waiting to be undressed.
‘Nothing too obviously billionaire chic?’
He laughed at her comment. ‘I suppose you could say that.’
‘So, who did you use?’
He frowned. He knew whose body he’d like to use—right after he’d pleasured it into a state of erotic euphoria. ‘No one.’
Her gaze dropped to his lips. ‘You mean you designed this all by yourself?’
‘All except the library. Would you like to see the rest of it?’ He led the way to the stairs.
‘Why not?’
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