he couldn’t handle.
It had been a long time since anyone took him by surprise. He didn’t like it.
Even though he liked what he saw. Too much.
Those eyes, for a start. Mercurial. Some indefinable shade between blue and grey that turned to silvery hoar frost when he riled her. He’d felt her disapproval like the jab from a shard of ice, straight to his belly.
Yet his overwhelming response was to wonder how her eyes would look when rapture overtook her. With him buried deep inside, feeling her shudder around him.
Was it any wonder he felt annoyed? She’d hijacked his thoughts, momentarily interfering with his plans.
She wasn’t what he’d expected, or wanted. No man wanted that sudden sensation that he was no longer master of his destiny. That perfidious fate still had a few nasty surprises in store.
Fate be damned. Donato had stopped being its victim years ago.
‘Alone at last,’ he murmured, watching her mouth tighten.
So, she didn’t like this thing sparking and snarling between them either. But as well as her caution and disapproval he sensed puzzlement. As if she didn’t recognise the syrupy thickening of the atmosphere for what it was—carnal attraction.
Instant. Absolute. Undeniable.
‘There’s no need for us to be alone. Your business is with my father.’ Her jaw angled belligerently.
Donato felt a quickening in his belly.
How long since a woman had reacted to him like that? Not with disdain because of his origins, but defiantly. The last few years had been littered with women eager to grab what they could—sex, money, status, even the thrill of being with a man with his dark reputation. How long since a woman he wanted had been difficult to attain?
For he found he wanted Ms Ella Sanderson with a primal hunger that would probably shock her. It disturbed him and he’d thought himself unshockable.
‘But tonight is about socialising. This is a party, Ella.’ He slowed on her name, enjoying the taste of it almost as much as he enjoyed the flicker of response in those bright eyes.
Oh, yes. Ms Sanderson wanted him as much as he did her. The way she swiped her lips with the tip of her tongue. The telltale tremble of the diamond drop earrings beside her slender throat. The way her eyelids drooped as if anticipating sexual pleasure. The quick rise of her lovely breasts against the azure satin of that tight dress.
Her nipples pebbled, thrusting towards him. It was all he could do not to reach out and anchor his palms against her breasts. He wanted their weight in his hands. He wanted more than he could take here, on one of the terraces leading down to the harbour from her father’s mansion.
Donato shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and saw her eyes narrow to slits as if daring him to stare at her body.
‘Do I disturb you, Ella?’
If she didn’t want him to admire the view she should have worn something else, not a dress that clung to her curves like plastic wrap. In that at least she hadn’t surprised him. He’d expected Sanderson’s daughter to be like her father, show rather than substance. Till she’d turned to face him and he’d known with absolute certainty she was different.
‘Of course not.’ He liked her low, confident voice, so totally unlike the high-pitched giggles of the women by the pool, already shedding their inhibitions. ‘Are you in the habit of...disturbing people?’ Her tone wasn’t arch with flirtation but serious, as if trying to fathom him.
That made two of them.
He shrugged, noting the way her gaze darted to his shoulders. Had he ever met a woman so primed and physically aware of him?
It made him want to take what he desired straight up, then worry about deciphering her later.
He took a step closer and she stilled. Even her breath seemed to stop. Her nostrils dilated. Did she breathe in his scent just as he found himself discovering she smelled of...sweet peas? The perfume of an old-fashioned garden.
Memory blindsided him. Of a garden in sunshine. Of his mother’s all too rare laugh and Jack’s patient tone as he taught them the difference between weeds and the precious vegetable seedlings.
How long since he’d thought of that?
It belonged in another lifetime.
‘Donato?’
He stiffened, registering her hand, lifted as if reaching for him. Then it dropped to her side. He didn’t know if he felt relief or regret.
He wanted to touch her, badly. But not here. Once they touched there would be no holding back.
* * *
‘Some people find me disturbing.’
It would be comforting to believe he had this impact on everyone. Yet to Ella her response seemed utterly personal, as if something linked the pair of them.
‘Why is that?’
Those jet eyebrows shot up. What? Surely not everyone was bowled over by those dark, fallen-angel looks? There must be some, heterosexual men and the blind, who were unaffected.
‘What do you know about me?’
She shrugged. ‘Just that my father wants to do business with you. Ergo you’re rich and powerful.’ She snapped her mouth shut before adding something uncomplimentary. She’d already shot her mouth off when she should have been smoothing the way for the news that her sister wouldn’t be playing happy families.
It was remarkable how he’d provoked her into lashing out. Her profession required discretion.
‘I know you’re from Melbourne, visiting Sydney for a major project.’
‘That’s all?’ His look penetrated, as if peering past the gloss of her sister’s clothes and jewellery to the plain, no-frills woman beneath. Her traitorous body heated and she had to lock her knees.
‘That’s all.’ She’d had no time for an Internet search. She’d barely had time after meeting her father to find suitable clothes to wear.
‘You take so little interest in your father’s business?’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t elaborate. What her father did was no longer any concern of hers. Except when it threatened Rob and Fuzz. ‘That is—’
His raised hand silenced her. ‘Don’t explain. It’s refreshing to meet someone honest enough to admit they’re only interested in money, rather than how it’s made.’
‘You’ve got me wrong.’ He made her sound like a leech.
‘Have I? How?’
Belatedly she shook her head, caution stirring. ‘Never mind. It’s not relevant.’
They’d never meet again. It was a sign of weakness to worry
