Jane Porter - Latin Lovers Untamed

“That’s right. Daisy Collingsworth doesn’t need anyone.”

She flushed but didn’t contradict him. He was right, in a way. She’d never needed anyone before. All her life she’d been taught to face problems head-on, to not make excuses and to not ask favors. “I can take care of myself.”

Dante’s hand hovered over the phone on his desk. He wanted to call her, wanted to hear Daisy’s voice and the smart sassy things she liked to say to him. He wanted to feel her smile because he could always tell when she was smiling.

He lifted the receiver, started to bring it to his ear before replacing it in the cradle.

He couldn’t call her. There was nothing to say. Well, he supposed he could ask about Anabella, but he’d asked yesterday and everything was fine.

If only he was fine. He felt terrible.

He’d thought that putting distance between himself and Daisy would help. It should have helped. Unfortunately it wasn’t working that way with Daisy. She was far too tempting, far too smart and sexy and stubborn.

Dante smiled faintly. He must be out of his mind if he was beginning to find her stubborn streak appealing. He must be out of his mind to crave her like this.

Normally women didn’t intrude into his personal life … at least, not beyond the bedroom. He’d learned to keep his wants and needs separate, dividing love from lust, but his attraction to Daisy was confusing the issue, confusing him.

Por dios, she had him in knots, and the rawness of his desire only deepened, a fire in his gut that burned all the way through him until he couldn’t think of anything but her. He’d never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Daisy.

At the airstrip when they’d first arrived, and when he’d kissed her, she’d felt impossibly right in his arms. Her body fit his, her mouth tasted sweeter than candy, and he wanted more. And the more he wanted her the more he mistrusted his desire.

He couldn’t afford to lose his focus. He couldn’t risk Anabella’s stability or happiness.

Once he’d allowed his own interests to cloud his judgment, and the results had been devastating. While his younger brother, Tadeo, had self-destructed in Buenos Aires, Dante had embraced New York and his highprofile job on Wall Street. He had lived with a beautiful American blue blood in an expensive Third Avenue town house as though he had no ties, no obligations, no responsibilities but his own desires.

It wasn’t until he’d stood at Tadeo’s funeral that he’d faced the bitter truth. Dante had failed Tadeo. Just as their father had failed them.

Dante understood then that his needs must come second. They had to. It didn’t mean that he didn’t have needs, but he could prioritize, and he did. He couldn’t bring Tadeo back, but he could ensure his sisters’ well-being.

Now, three years later, Dante was sharply reminded of those priorities, particularly since his responsibility was cohabitating with his desire.

Roughly he lifted the phone again and dialed the estancia ’s number. Daisy answered.

“How is Anabella?” he asked curtly. No hello, no how are you.

Daisy felt his anger. She didn’t understand it, either. Everything was fine at the estancia . She and Anabella had been getting on very well, and Anabella had resumed her independent studies thanks to Daisy’s supervision. “She’s fine. She’s out riding right now. I can have her call when she returns.”

“Shouldn’t you be riding with her?”

“Why? She’s seventeen.”

“And has a penchant for running away.”

“She won’t run away.”

“How do you know? You just met her less than two weeks ago.”

Daisy closed her eyes, tipped her head against her hand. What did he want from her?

“You have to watch Anabella closely,” he added. “You can’t trust her too much.”

“I’m careful.”

“And you’ll call me if she does become a problem?”

“Yes. But we’re fine. She’s fine. I’m fine.”

“That’s what you always say.”

His voice rasped, and she felt his frustration. “But isn’t that what you want me to say?”

“Only if it’s true.”

“It is true. I grew up taking care of Zoe, and taking care of Anabella isn’t as difficult as you think. She’s a great person. I enjoy her company quite a bit.”

He didn’t speak for quite a long time. “But who looks after you?”

She felt a lump swell in her throat. “I don’t need looking after.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted someone to take care of you?”

“I’m not helpless. I can take care of myself.”

Again silence stretched over the phone line. Daisy felt his tension. It fairly vibrated through the phone. “I’ll be back Friday.”

“I know. And please don’t worry, Anabella and I are managing just fine.”

Phone call over, Daisy gave herself a mental pat on the back. She and Anabella were doing fine, too.

In fact, Anabella had been on such good behavior that four days later, on Thursday, Daisy proposed an excursion.

“What would you like to do, Anabella? Go for a drive, out to lunch, maybe do some shopping?”

“All three,” Anabella answered, pouncing happily on the idea. “We can go to Santa Rosa. It’s not too long a drive, and we can shop and have lunch there.”

Hours later, Daisy sat in the plaza restaurant, clasping her cup of café con leche and leaning back in her chair to savor the warm sunshine.

It had been a wonderful afternoon, just what they needed, and Daisy couldn’t help congratulating herself for her brilliant suggestion. They’d shopped, enjoyed a wonderful meal and finally stopped for coffee at a bakery on the old town square.

The clock in the city hall tower chimed, and Daisy counted the hours. Half past four. As soon as Anabella returned from the washroom they’d need to head home.

Bill paid, sunglasses perched on the end of her nose, Daisy continued to wait for Anabella. But the minutes crept by without a sign of the teenager, and as fifteen minutes turned to twenty and twenty to twenty-five, Daisy felt dread.

Something was wrong. Anabella had been gone far too long.

Gathering their shopping bags, Daisy checked the women’s washroom and found it deserted. She asked the bakery staff if they’d seen Anabella leave. No one knew anything. Heart in mouth, Daisy rushed to the car, but Anabella wasn’t there either.

Daisy’s dread turned to denial. How could this be happening? How could Anabella disappear? It was impossible. It hadn’t happened. Daisy just wasn’t thinking clearly.

Fishing the car keys from her purse, she climbed into the car and began driving the city streets, scouring the neighborhoods, searching the narrow cobbled alleys as well as the newer boulevards. But there was no sign of Anabella anywhere.

She’d have to call Dante.

Daisy’s stomach cramped, filled with pins and needles. She couldn’t even imagine how she’d break the news to him. He’d be livid. He’d blame her. And so he should.

She didn’t have permission to leave the estancia . She hadn’t watched Anabella closely enough, especially considering the girl’s history of running away. Daisy had been lulled into complacency, and look what had happened—disaster.

But maybe Anabella hadn’t run away. The girl was an heiress, incredibly beautiful; she might have been kid-napped … or worse.

Daisy shuddered at the thought and silently blasted herself for not being more careful, not being more aware. This was not supposed to happen. Temper, anger, nerves and fear wrestled for the upper hand. Daisy’s hands shook on the steering wheel as she drove, and she chewed her lower lip, so sick at heart that the twenty-five miles back to the estancia felt like hours.