erotic?
She had an awful suspicion he read her thoughts. Heat seeped under her skin, spread across her chest and up her throat.
Maybe she’d been working with elderly patients too long. How long since she’d been close to a virile man in his prime? One whose gaze challenged her not to react to him, even as she felt that telltale melting at her core.
‘Tell me more,’ he murmured, his voice like dark, rich syrup. ‘What atmospheric conditions would lead to electricity in the air?’
He was toying with her.
He’d sensed her instantaneous, deeply feminine response to him—that tremor in her belly, that lush softening, and it amused him. His face was as close to bland as such a strong, remarkable face could be. Yet she knew. Something she couldn’t name connected them.
‘I have no idea,’ she snapped. ‘I’m no meteorologist.’
‘You disappoint me.’ His words were silky, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her as if she were some curious specimen. ‘Most people I meet like to talk about things they know well.’
‘To show off their knowledge, you mean?’
He shrugged. The implication was clear. People tried to attract his attention. Her father was about to do it, clearing his throat ready to interrupt this conversation that wasn’t going as he’d planned.
‘You think I should try to impress you?’ Stupid question. This man could make or break her father and, by association, her siblings. She might not need to impress him but common sense dictated she shouldn’t antagonise him either.
Yet it was antagonism she felt, swirling in her blood. That and attraction. And something like fear. It was a dangerous combination.
‘I can tell you—’ she spoke as her father opened his mouth ‘—that our weather often comes from the south.’
‘From the direction of Melbourne, you mean?’ Donato’s eyes narrowed.
‘Precisely.’ She angled her chin higher, refusing to look away from that intent stare. ‘So if there’s an abrupt change in the atmosphere from the south, a big blustery wind, for instance. Or a sudden influx of hot air...’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows what bad weather might result?’
‘Ella—’ Her father’s voice promised retribution but was drowned by a sharp crack of laughter.
It reverberated around her, deep and appealing. Ella’s skin prickled and shivered as if in response to the elemental rumble of thunder.
Donato Salazar had a surprisingly attractive laugh for a man who looked like he could play the Prince of Darkness with no effort at all. The trouble was laughter, the humour in his eyes and that unlooked-for smile turned him into someone far more approachable.
Her fingers tingled. She wanted—so badly she wanted—to cup his face and discover how that sharply defined jaw, that rich olive skin felt beneath her hand.
Ella swung her hands behind her back, clasping them tight together like a schoolgirl.
She shivered. Her response to this man was anything but childish. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her mouth sagging till she realised and snapped it shut. And that melting sensation had spread. Between her legs felt soft like warm butter.
Horror filled her and she stumbled back, only stopping when his laughter cut off and his gaze meshed with hers.
There it was again. That certainty he knew what she felt. The realisation should have mortified her. Instead it felt almost...liberating.
Ella blinked. Her imagination was working overtime. Lack of food had made her woolly-headed.
She did not turn into a puddle of pure lust after five minutes’ acquaintance with any man.
She did not have some psychic connection with this stranger.
‘I apologise for my daughter.’ Her father skewered her with a glacial look. ‘She—’
‘There is no need to apologise.’ Still Donato didn’t shift his gaze from her. That steady look was unnerving. ‘Your daughter is charming.’
‘Charming?’ Reg spluttered before quickly gathering himself. ‘Of course, yes. She’s certainly unusual.’
Ella might have felt grim amusement at her father’s description of his cuckoo-in-the-nest daughter if she weren’t so flabbergasted.
Charming?
Never in her life had she been described that way. But never had she set out to be deliberately rude either.
It was a night of firsts. Her father needing her. Her visceral response to this tall, dark, enigmatic stranger.
If there were going to be many more surprises maybe she should grab a drink to steady her nerves.
‘You must be proud of such an intelligent, forthright daughter.’
Ella froze in the act of scanning the landscaped terraces for a waiter.
‘Proud? Yes, yes, of course I am.’ Her father needed to improve his acting skills. He was usually an expert liar but Ella had never seen him so ill at ease. So desperate.
‘And pretty too.’
Ella swung her head round to meet that probing gaze.
This had gone far enough. She’d done her best, rifling her sister’s abandoned wardrobe to find something suitable. She wouldn’t face a crowd of glittering socialites in work clothes and rubber-soled lace-up shoes. But she had no illusions. Fuzz was the one who turned heads. Never Ella.
‘There’s no need to butter me up. And I prefer not to be talked about as if I’m not here.’
‘Ella!’ Her father looked like he might have a stroke. His colour was too high and his pale eyes bulged before narrowing to needle-sharp fury. He really did need to change his lifestyle if he was going to make it into old age. As if he’d listen to her!
‘My apologies, Ella.’ That low velvety voice made her shiver. ‘No insult was intended.’
‘It’s not you who should apologise, Donato.’ Her father closed in, his grip biting her arm. ‘I think—’
‘I think,’ Donato interrupted smoothly, ‘it’s time you left the pair of us to get better acquainted.’
For an instant her father stared. Usually he was smooth as oil, charming and quick with a comeback. Seeing him so patently at a loss was a new experience. Once it would have delighted Ella. Now a chill clamped her spine.
Who was this man with the power to frighten him so?
‘Of course, of course.’ Her father pasted on a toothy smile. ‘You two need to get better acquainted. I’ll let you do just that.’ With one last warning pinch of her arm he released her and sauntered off as if he hadn’t a care.
Ella
