Jane Porter - Latin Lovers Untamed

He’d obliterated her self-control completely. Turned her inside out and reduced her to a puddle of need. Incredible.

The car horn sounded again, and Dante lifted a hand in greeting as a dark green Land Rover jostled and gyrated into view.

“My sister,” he said grimly, turning to face Daisy and attempting to tuck the hem of her blouse into her trousers.

She brushed his hand away. “Don’t worry. This won’t happen again.”

His lips compressed. He glanced at the clouds of dust encircling the car and then at Daisy. “You understand why?”

She shoved the shirttail inside her waistband and adjusted her silver belt buckle. “Yes. Because I don’t want this to happen again.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“It is the issue. Your father and my father screwed up, and we’ve been left to sort it out. So let’s sort it out so I can go home and get the hell out of Argentina!” She heard her voice crack, felt her composure shatter. She was on the edge, more than on the edge and very close to losing all self-control.

His kiss, his hands, his touch … they undid her. Worse than undid her.

He made her want so much— too much —and she didn’t know how to cope with such intense sensations and emotions. It was one thing to be attracted to someone but it was another to feel utterly carnal. And she felt carnal. She felt hungry and raw and desperate.

Heaven help her, this was not how it was supposed to be, at all.

THE green car careened to a stop, kicking up dirt and loose pebbles. The driver leaned out the window, arms braced against the door, long black hair tumbling past bare shoulders. “ Hola , Dante,” the teenage girl shouted.

“You’re late,” Dante snapped.

“Not very. A half hour. Maybe an hour.”

She’d been speaking Spanish, but Dante abruptly switched to English. “Two hours late, Anabella. You were supposed to be here at four.”

Anabella switched easily to English, too, her accent surprisingly mild. She’d obviously spent considerable time in the States.

“You said five,” Anabella insisted. “I come up at five.” Her slim shoulders lifted, fell in a graceful little shrug. “Four. Five. Sounds the same, no? Maybe I misunderstood.”

“They don’t sound the same to most people,” Dante answered, teeth flashing, jaw jutting, making Daisy think of a lion snarling.

“But I’m not most people.”

Daisy was sure he was going to lose his temper. He looked perfectly furious. And then suddenly the tension melted from his body, the anger fading from his features. “No, you’re not like most people. That’s the problem with you.”

She shot him a naughty, teasing glance, green-gold eyes dancing with mischief. “It’s good to see you, too, Dante.”

“You are supposed to be in school. What happened?”

“They threw me out. Again. Can you believe that?” She made a face at him, chin propped on the windowframe. Her eyes were a lighter shade than Dante’s and considerably greener, but she was every bit as beautiful and perhaps even more vivid.

No wonder Dante had his hands full. Anabella wasn’t just physically perfect, she was mentally quick, her tone, gestures, features alive and vivacious.

“Unfortunately, I can believe it,” he answered, leaning forward and kissing her on each cheek. “Now get in the back, I’m going to drive home.”

“Let me drive!”

“Anabella.”

In the end, she reluctantly climbed over the seat, her tight black skirt hiked high on her thigh revealing an extraordinary amount of leg. Although Dante cast her outfit a disapproving glance, he didn’t directly comment on it.

Anabella had him wrapped around her gorgeous little finger.

In the car, luggage loaded and Dante behind the wheel driving them home, Anabella leaned forward to get a better look at Daisy.

“So you’re the new girlfriend,” Anabella announced, curiosity in her voice. “An American girlfriend. Just like Daddy used to have.”

Daisy shot Dante an uneasy glance. Their father had girlfriends?

Dante’s eyebrows lowered. “Ana, not in front of strangers.”

“But she’s not a stranger if she’s your girlfriend!”

“Daisy is not my girlfriend,” he answered tersely. “She’s here to work with Señor Gutierrez. It’s business.”

“Ah, business.” But Anabella’s arch expression indicated disbelief. “This is what you always say, Dante. Everything is business, but I know you are not a priest. You are too beautiful to be a priest.”

“Anabella!”

Dante sounded strangled. Daisy almost felt pity for him. Almost, but not quite.

Anabella smiled. Leaning against Daisy’s seat, she whispered to her, “Dante loves women. But he doesn’t get serious. Lots of women but no serious girlfriends and no wedding. He is too busy with business.”

“Ana!” Dante’s voice thundered through the car. Switching to Spanish, he gave his baby sister an earful, but Anabella shrugged and looked out the window.

After several tense, silent minutes Anabella sighed. “I hate the estancia . I don’t know why you keep this place, Dante. It makes me crazy here. Everything’s so slow.”

“It might be good for you to take things slow for awhile,” he said cryptically.

His sister tossed her head. “I can take things slow when I die, and I’m not dead yet.”

“You will be, if you continue to live so recklessly.”

Anabella didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then with a jerk she pulled herself forward, taking a seat on the center console. Her long hair hung in her eyes and she pushed it away with an impatient flick of her wrist. “You’re not going to leave me here, Dante. It’s just for the weekend, right? That’s what the driver said when he picked me up. Just for the weekend.” Her voice began to rise in panic and frustration. “You know I hate it here. Promise me I’m going back to the city with you on Sunday.”

Dante kept his eyes fixed on the pale dirt road ahead. “I can’t make that promise, Ana.”

Anabella let out a piercing cry. “You can’t keep me here. I’m not a prisoner. You can’t make me a prisoner.”

“I’m not making you a prisoner.”

“You are if you keep me here. You know how I go crazy here.”

“We’re not going to talk about it now.”

“Well, I am.” She slammed her hand down, rattling the console. “This isn’t my home. I want to go to Mama’s.”

“You know it’s not an option.”

“I’m almost eighteen. I can do what I want.”

“Not a chance.”

“Dante!”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear another word. Discussion over.”

Anabella fell back onto the seat and covered her face with her hands. No one spoke for the remainder of the journey.

Dante drove faster, gunning the motor as though chased by the devil, and maybe in a way he was, Daisy thought, clinging to the Land Rover seat, her silvery hair swirling in her eyes. Obviously they shared many family secrets, secrets that continued to haunt both Dante and Anabella.

The car bounced and jolted its way toward the distant line of trees. Closer, the trees loomed larger and rounder, the lush, leafy trees becoming a magnificent alley of shade that ended before a vast Spanish colonial mansion.

Drawing up in front of the house, Dante parked and turned off the engine. “My home,” he said, gesturing toward the elaborate whitewashed facade.

The bell tower’s red tiled roof gleamed almost copper beneath the early evening sun and reminded her of one of the missions in the American Southwest.

Daisy opened her door. “It’s not a new house built to look old?”