last night, saying he wanted to know her. As for that nonsense about them marrying—
‘I want to know everything about you.’ His deep voice burred in her ear. ‘But I want to find out from you.’
She’d known Donato Salazar was dangerous, but still she wasn’t prepared for the way he devastated her defences. It took precious seconds to find her voice. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.’
‘Nothing about you is disappointing, believe me, Ella.’ There it was again, that caress when he said her name. As if those two simple syllables were an endearment.
‘I meant—’ she set her jaw ‘—you’ll be disappointed because we’re not going to meet again.’
He was silent and stupidly something like anxiety feathered through her. At the idea this was the last time she’d speak with him? Impossible!
‘Are you scared of me, Ella?’
‘Scared? No.’ Strangely enough, it was true. She was scared of what he made her feel, of the urgent, restless woman she’d become in the short time since they’d met. But not scared of him.
‘Not even after what you discovered in your research on me?’ The banter was gone from his voice. He sounded deadly serious.
Deadly. Now there was a word. Last night she’d thought he looked dangerous. Then, at home, sitting with her computer, she’d discovered how right she’d been. How many people had she known personally who’d been to prison for assault?
None.
Was it naïve of her to believe that, despite his teenage criminal record, Donato Salazar wouldn’t hurt her?
She’d been stunned to read about his crime and his prison term. At the same time it went some way to explaining the sense she’d had last night that he was a man apart from everyone else.
As a nurse she’d worked with a huge range of people, from the frail aged to the bloodied survivors of brawls to the drug-addicted and downright dangerous. She was cautious, methodical, never taking unnecessary risks, especially doing home visits. But the only alarm she felt now was at her own avid response to Donato.
‘I’m not afraid of you because you’ve got a criminal record, Donato.’ In the intervening years he’d built a reputation for ruthlessness in business but there’d never been a hint he was anything but a model citizen. He’d been lauded for his work supporting inner-city youth centres and legislation to assist victims of abuse.
‘Then you’re unique.’ Was that bitterness she heard? She hitched herself higher against the pillows.
‘Are you saying I should be? That you’re violent?’
‘No.’ His voice was flat. ‘I’m not that person any more. I’ve learned to restrain my impulses. Instead I channel them into something more productive.’
He said nothing for a moment and she wondered what was going through his mind. ‘So, you’re not frightened. But you are curious.’
‘You’re not the average Australian business tycoon.’
His laugh was sharp but appealing and despite herself Ella’s lips twitched. How could she feel at ease with this man? His past and his dealings with her father should warn her off, yet she felt incredibly drawn to him. It wasn’t just desire; she was fascinated by the way his mind worked. She enjoyed their verbal sparring.
‘You’ve met lots of tycoons, have you?’
‘A few.’
‘And you weren’t impressed.’
By the men with whom her father did business? ‘Not usually.’
‘But still you want to know me better. Here’s the chance to satisfy your curiosity, Ella. Over lunch. We have a table reserved at the Opera House restaurant. I’m assured the food is excellent.’
But it wasn’t food on his mind, or even conversation. The low pitch of his voice was pure seduction. Ella pressed her thighs together, pretending she didn’t feel that tiny pulse of awareness awakening between them.
‘No, thank you.’
There was a pause. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re stubborn?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know you want to. You’re denying yourself as well as me.’
‘Don’t presume to know my mind, Donato.’
He sighed. ‘Don’t make me force you, Ella.’
She tucked the sheet more securely under her arms and sat straighter. ‘You can’t force me.’
‘What if I told you your father’s financial viability is totally dependent on my support? And that support is dependent on the wedding he’s organising for us.’
‘You’re lying. You don’t want to marry me. We discussed it last night.’
What sort of bizarre game was he playing?
‘You discussed it, Ella, but you wouldn’t listen to my response.’ He paused and the silence thickened around her. ‘Ask your father if you don’t believe me. He’ll confirm it. The wedding goes ahead or there’s no deal. And if there’s no deal...’
DONATO WAS WAITING for her, standing in the doorway of a white, two-storey art deco gem of a mansion that made Ella’s mouth water with envy. In the forecourt sat a gleaming convertible in dark red. Not a modern supercar but a vintage model with running boards that made her think of champagne picnics and romantic escapes to the country.
She choked down annoyance. It was easier to loathe the man before she realised they shared the same tastes.
But this wasn’t his home. Donato lived in Melbourne. Maybe he was a guest here. He probably lived in a soulless box of a house and had a chauffeur drive him in a stretch limo.
The thought soothed her. She didn’t like the notion they had anything in common. Anything other than that disconcerting stir of attraction. And the suspicion she’d got last night that he wasn’t a fan of her father. Clearly that was pure imagination, since he proposed to link himself with Reg Sanderson’s family.
Ella stopped her little car, telling herself it was the house that quickened her pulse. Not the man.
With huge streamlined windows and a curved end like the prow of a ship, the old house was stunning. The glimpse of dark blue ocean glittering beyond it enhanced its beauty, as did the lush garden that hid it from the security gates. Gates that opened as soon as she’d nosed her car off the street.
Had Donato been watching for her, or his security staff? She’d seen no one on the long drive from the street to the clifftop house.
Now there he was under the huge circular portico, his expression
