Jane Porter - Latin Lovers Untamed

Daisy furtively watched Dante as he listened to Anabella’s story.

He really was lovely. She liked looking at him, listening to his voice, watching him interact with his sister. He was a benevolent big brother, part doting, part disciplinarian, but his love was tangible.

Dante looked up, caught her staring, and his lips twisted. He touched a finger to his mouth, and she stared at his lips in fascination. She loved the way his mouth felt against hers. She loved the way he kissed her. It was the most right feeling in the world.

His mouth curved into a crooked smile, and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking. He couldn’t possibly sense her craving, could he?

His lashes suddenly lowered but not before she saw the speculative gleam in his eyes. He knew, she thought, drawing a breath, he knew. And he’d have something to say about it later.

Dinner over, Anabella asked to be excused to call a girlfriend in the city. Dante let her leave, and yet when Daisy asked to be excused, he refused.

“We haven’t had coffee yet,” he answered. “It’s a nice evening, too. Let’s sit outside, where it’s cool.”

Daisy didn’t want to follow him, didn’t want to go anywhere near him, but didn’t have a choice.

He took a seat on a wood bench outside, a two-seater with no other chairs nearby.

The maid appeared with a tray. She placed the tray on the bench next to Dante. Silently she poured the coffee before bowing her head and leaving.

Dante held a cup to Daisy. “Yours.”

She started to refuse the cup, not because coffee didn’t sound good but because she didn’t feel comfortable risking contact. Yet the moment she realized her fear, she was determined to conquer it.

Daisy took the cup quickly, avoiding touching any part of him, and retreated to another bench.

He took a sip of his coffee and watched her sit down before leaning forward, powerful thighs straining his trousers. “Daisy, you’re not as tough as you like to think.”

His voice in the darkness sounded like honey, sweet rich, impossibly smooth. He’d snare her and she’d be trapped, stuck, caught in silken threads. Like the spider and the fly.

She hated the wildness of her heart. “What time do you leave tomorrow?”

She felt his smile. “Sometime in the morning, after I get you squared away with Señor Gutierrez. I’ll be taking Anabella with me.”

“She doesn’t like it here much, does she?”

“She likes social activity. There’s not much of that here.” He hesitated, and the silence stretched between them. Finally, “You’ll be all right here on your own?”

Was that what he was worried about? “I’ll be fine. Unlike your sister, I’m not a city person. I prefer working and I like being out of doors.”

“Your sister mentioned just before we left that you’d been to medical school.”

“Veterinary medicine, yes.”

“But you had to drop out?”

She shrugged, pretending an indifference she didn’t feel. “I was needed at home.”

“Maybe you’ll be able to resume your studies after things settle down.”

Things settle down? Did he mean after her father died?

She suddenly felt very tired, the long trip catching up with her. “It’s late. I should go to bed, especially if I’m going to get up early to meet Señor Gutierrez.”

He must have heard the fatigue in her voice and the way it cracked a little. Dante also rose. “Second thought, sleep in tomorrow. There’s really no reason I can’t postpone my trip by a few hours and introduce you to him over lunch. You need the rest.”

“I don’t need the rest. I need to learn. Remember? So, I’ll set my alarm and be ready by six.”

“No one is awake here at six, Daisy. This is Argentina.”

“I’m willing to bet that Señor Gutierrez is awake at six.”

“Yes, but—”

“Fine. I’ll be up, too.” She set her cup and saucer on the cart. “Good night, Dante.”

“Good night, Daisy.”

She was up early. Daisy dressed in her still-dark room and, aided with directions from a sleepy housemaid, found the stables just as the sun broke on the horizon. Inside the stables a half dozen ranch hands were already busy at work.

Daisy immediately liked Señor Gutierrez. He was an older man, wiry, strong and grizzled from a lifetime in the sun. The morning passed quickly, and at noon Daisy returned to the house for lunch. But on reaching the house she discovered it empty. Dante and Anabella had already gone.

There weren’t really words, she thought, for the emptiness she felt on learning that Dante had left on time after all, and without saying goodbye. She felt utterly flattened. Not to mention rejected.

It wasn’t that she expected a big emotional farewell, but some kind of goodbye would have been nice.

Face it, she told herself, standing on the veranda and facing the stables and protective ring of trees, you wanted to see him this morning. You were counting on seeing him this morning.

It was true. All morning as she’d followed Señor Gutierrez around the stables she’d felt a bubble of excitement, a bubble she’d tried to suppress, but it had been there and she’d felt happy thinking she’d see Dante soon.

Now he was gone, and she had no idea when he’d be back.

The afternoon passed much more slowly, and Daisy was relieved when Señor Gutierrez sent her back to the house. Daisy had a solitary dinner before retiring to her room. It wasn’t even nine when she turned out her light but she was tired and a little blue, and sleep offered a respite from thoughts of Dante.

A doorbell was ringing somewhere far away. Daisy was dreaming about Collingsworth Farm and didn’t want to leave the dream behind. She pressed her pillow over her head, trying to block the doorbell, but it just rang and rang and finally she realized it wasn’t the door, but the phone on her nightstand.

Rolling over, she lifted the receiver. “Hola,” she whispered groggily.

“Did I wake you, Daisy?”

Dante. She propped herself on her elbows. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. I didn’t know you’d be in bed already or I would have waited for the morning.”

“I was tired.”

“I can call back—”

“No!” she interrupted, and then closed her eyes when she heard him laugh softly. He knew how she felt. Even if she pretended indifference, he knew better.

“I’m sorry about leaving so abruptly this morning. I made my meeting in Buenos Aires and then Anabella was being difficult. I meant to call earlier but the day got away from me.”

“These things happen.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m not hurt. I don’t care—”

“You don’t fool me with this ‘I don’t care’ routine. You do care, Daisy. I care, too.”

She pressed her forehead against her palm, squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for patience. “Let’s not talk about this again. We’re not getting anywhere and it just makes me crazy.”

She heard him draw a slow breath.

“I think I’d like to see Daisy lose control,” he said after a lengthy pause. “I think it would be incredible.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. We might just have to wait until you’ve returned to Kentucky, but it will happen. I promise you.”

IF HE thought his promise was a comfort to her, he was wrong.

Daisy slugged her pillow hard and then again before finally getting comfortable and falling back asleep. But in the morning her temper was still on edge.

Thankfully, working with Señor Gutierrez helped keep her mind off Dante—during the day at least. At night, however, she found herself thinking about him endlessly. It was awful wanting someone this much, awful craving contact. She thought she’d give anything to be in his arms, against his chest, breathing him in.