sink in. The temptation was so great, it took all her strength to resist deepening the kiss.
With considerable reluctance she dragged her mouth from his and rested her cheek against his chest.
It felt good, so good to be here with him like this. To take the comfort he offered, savour it and feel secure.
Cassandra felt him shift slightly, and the cascading water stilled.
‘Food, hmm?’ He slid open the door, snatched a towel and began rubbing the moisture from her body before tending to his own.
It took scant minutes to utilise toiletries and clean her teeth before she escaped into the bedroom, where she retrieved jeans and a loose shirt from her bag, then, dressed, she caught up a brush and restored order to her hair.
Diego emerged as she applied pins to secure its length, and her gaze strayed to his reflected image, mesmerised by the smooth flex of sinew and muscle as he donned black jeans and a polo shirt.
She tamped down the warmth flooding her veins, the core of need spiralling deep inside. Crazy, she acknowledged. She was merely susceptible to circumstance…and knew she lied.
He turned slightly and his gaze locked with hers. For a brief moment everything else faded from the periphery of her vision, and there was only the man and a heightened degree of electric tension in the room.
It felt as if her soul was being fused with his, like twin halves accepting recognition and magnetically drawn to become one entity.
Mesmeric, primitive, incandescent.
She forgot to breathe, and she stood still, like an image caught frozen in time and captured on celluloid.
Then the spell broke, and she was the first to move, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she turned towards the door.
Had Diego felt it, too? Or was she merely being fanciful?
Coffee. She needed it hot, strong, black and sweet.
Cassandra took the stairs and made her way towards the kitchen, aware Diego followed only a step behind her.
‘Go sit down on the terrace. I’ll fix breakfast.’
Soon the aroma of freshly made coffee permeated the air, the contents in the skillet sizzled, and minutes later he placed two plates onto the table.
The morning sun held the promise of warmth, the air was still, and the view out over the infinity pool to the harbour provided a sense of tranquillity.
Cassandra ate well, much to her surprise. She hadn’t expected to do the meal justice, and she pushed her empty plate to one side with a sense of disbelief.
‘More coffee?’ It was a token query as Diego refilled her cup, then his own.
She felt at peace, calm after the previous afternoon’s excitement.
‘I’ll call a cab.’
His expression remained unchanged, but there was a sense of something dangerous hovering beneath the surface. ‘To go where?’
His tone was deceptively mild…too mild, she perceived. ‘My apartment.’ Where else?
He replaced his empty cup down onto its saucer with care. ‘No.’
‘What do you mean…no?’
‘It’s a simple word,’ Diego drawled. ‘One not difficult to understand.’
She looked at him carefully. ‘I don’t want to fight with you.’
‘Wise choice.’
‘But—’
‘There has to be a but?’
It was time to take a deep breath…except her ribs hurt too much, and she had to be content with shallow. ‘Thank you for—’ She paused fractionally. For what? Taking care of her, bringing her here…caring. Oh, hell, she had to keep it together! ‘Looking after me,’ she concluded. ‘It was very kind.’
He was silent for a few measurable seconds, and his eyes narrowed, masking a hardness that was at variance with the softness of his voice. ‘Are you done?’
‘Yes.’ She waited a beat. ‘For now.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it.’
He was something else. All hard, muscular planes, and leashed strength as he leaned back in his chair, looking as if he owned the world…and her.
Total power, she accorded silently, and was determined not to be swayed by his sense of purpose.
Cassandra discarded her coffee and rose to her feet, then began stacking empty plates onto a tray, only to have it taken from her hands.
Without a further word she moved from the room and made her way upstairs.
It didn’t take much to scoop her belongings into the holdall Diego had thrust them in the previous evening, and minutes later she picked up the bedroom extension, punched in the digits for a cab company, and was in the process of giving instructions when Diego entered the room.
Without a word he crossed to where she stood and cut the connection.
An action which sparked indignant anger as she turned to face him. ‘How dare you?’
‘Easily.’
‘You have no right—’
He held up a hand. ‘Last night you discharged yourself from hospital against medical advice. Your brother is in Melbourne, and unless I’m mistaken he’s unaware of yesterday’s escapade. You live alone.’ His eyes were dark and held a latent anger that most would shrink from. ‘Want me to go on?’
‘I don’t need a self-appointed guardian.’
‘Like it or not, you’ve got one…for another twenty-four hours at least.’
Her chin tilted. ‘You can’t force me to stay.’
‘It’s here, or hospital readmission,’ Diego said succinctly. ‘Choose.’
She considered punching him, then discarded the idea on the grounds it would inevitably hurt her more than it would him. ‘You’re a dictatorial tyrant,’ she said at last.
‘I’ve been called worse.’
He wasn’t going to budge. She could see it in his stance, the muscle bunching at his jaw.
‘Who said you get to make the rules?’ It was a cry from the heart, rendered in anger.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
‘I need to feed my cat.’ She threw one hand in the air to emphasise the point, then winced as pain shot through her body. ‘Dammit.’
Diego swung between an inclination
