Dante had returned home in a foul mood, and had then spent a restless night with the image of a flame-haired woman plaguing his mind and his body. He’d had to remind himself that he had gotten over the urge to bed every desirable woman he met years ago. Yet he was still convinced that he knew Beth.... But how and from where he had no idea—and that was his problem.
Dante was as frustrated as hell, thanks to the redheaded witch, and he was damn sure he was not going to let her mess up Tony’s life. He glanced at his watch. He had a flight booked to New York at noon, and he expected to be there for a few weeks at least. He called his driver to pick him up and got to his feet, a ruthless gleam in his dark eyes.
When he returned to England, whatever the outcome of his enquiries, he would take great pleasure in dealing with Beth Lazenby personally. There was no way she was marrying Tony! Just the thought of being faced with Beth as his brother’s wife at every family gathering for the rest of his life was enough to make him shudder.
About to get in the car, he stopped and took his cell phone from his pocket and called Tony, realising his younger brother was impulsive enough to marry the woman without a second thought. Proof or not, it was his brotherly duty to warn Tony of his suspicions for his own good
‘Dante—to what do I owe this honor?’ Tony answered. ‘You rarely call me—and never during working hours.’
‘I want to let you know Ellen and I have split up. The wedding is cancelled and I am going to America for a while.’
‘Sorry, but I can’t say I’m surprised. In fact I told Beth I was amazed you’d got engaged in the first place. Why settle for one when you can take your pick, bro?’
Dante heard his chuckle and grimaced. ‘Yes, well, I’ve learned my lesson. But knowing how impulsive you can be, I thought I should warn you in case you make the same mistake.’
‘Warn me? That sounds ominous.’
‘Not ominous, just cautious... I’ve met Beth’s type before—a beautiful woman who probably knows your father owns a bank and is as interested in money as she is in you.’ Dante heard Tony laugh out loud and gritted his teeth. His brother never took anything seriously.
‘Ah, Dante, you really are too serious to be believed. As for Beth—I really couldn’t care less if she knows Dad owns a bank or not. You’ve met her. She is absolutely gorgeous! Do you honestly think I, or any other red-blooded male who was lucky enough to have Beth in his bed, would give a damn about the money? You must really be getting old, Dante, but don’t worry—I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.... Ciao.’ And, still laughing, he clicked off.
Dante slipped his phone back into his pocket, feeling a complete idiot. Tony’s parting shot did worry him, and as he got into the car, his lips twisting wryly, he acknowledged that his brother’s assessment of the male of the species where Beth Lazenby was concerned was probably correct.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS A blazing-hot day, and Beth’s carefully straightened hair was already beginning to wave in the heat as she searched the kitchen one more time.
‘Got you!’ she cried triumphantly and, cradling Binkie in her arms, she carried him into the hall and closed the kitchen door with her hip. Finally she was ready to go. Her luggage was loaded into the boot of her car, and had been for hours, but Binkie was not. It was a five-hour drive to Devon, and she had planned on leaving at one. It was now three, but with luck she would easily make it before dark.
She eyed the cat carrier standing open in the hall. Binkie hated travelling, which was why she had spent ages trying to coax him out from under the kitchen units, after having chased him around the garden and the apartment. Now all she had to do was put him in the carrier and they could go.
Beth had given in her notice at work on Monday and, with the three weeks’ holiday she had yet to take, did not need to return to the office. She had spoken to Tony last night, but had not mentioned she was leaving permanently. She intended to do that when she came back to clear her apartment. Tony had promised to keep an eye on the place, and had also told her his brother’s engagement was off. Dante had gone to work in America for a while, conveniently escaping the flak from their mother over the cancelled wedding. She had already bought a hat!
Tony’s news had been music to Beth’s ears, and she’d realised she had probably worried unnecessarily. But she was pleased that Dante’s appearance in her life again had focused her mind and forced her to make a decision. Now, sun, sea and a new chapter in her life beckoned, Beth thought happily, bending down to lower Binkie into the carrier—which was easier said than done. He had leapt out of it twice already.
‘Stop wriggling, you useless ball of fur,’ she told him, and was just about to draw one hand free to shut the carrier when there was a ring at the front door—peremptory and sharp.
Ignoring it, Beth leant over, using her body to block Binkie’s escape, and swiftly closed the lid.
‘All right, all right—I’m coming!’ she yelled as the bell rang again and kept on ringing.
She got to her feet and, leaving the carrier on the floor, walked to the door. Probably some salesman, she thought. But whoever it was she would get rid of them quickly. She opened the door.
The social smile froze on her lips and she simply stared at the man standing before her. A dark, unsmiling figure in a charcoal pinstriped suit, jacket unfastened, the white shirt beneath open at the neck and startlingly brilliant against his tanned throat. Her stomach clenched and she stiffened, straightening her shoulders. It was the man she hated with a passion but had dreamed of far too often in the past two weeks for her peace of mind. Cannavaro...
* * *
Dante had received the report on Beth Lazenby a week ago in New York, and what he had read had confirmed his suspicions about her. He had arrived back in London this morning, and after a shower and a change had leapt in his car and driven here. Now he was on her doorstep. His features hardened as slowly he took in every detail of the way she looked: her hair was dishevelled, her face clear of make-up—and as for what she was wearing...
If he’d had the slightest doubt of the investigator’s findings that Jane Mason and Beth Lazenby were one and the same, it vanished as he noted the snug fit of denim shorts that showed off her long legs and the skimpy white top that revealed a tantalising cleavage and stopped six inches short of the toned flesh of a slender waist and abdomen. She was slimmer than before, but still had curves in all the right places, and she was more striking than ever.
He felt a surge of lust and saw again in his mind’s eye the image of that girl in the picture, wearing almost the same outfit as this woman wore now, but with one dramatic difference. The girl in the picture had had long black hair—as had the girl who’d stood in the dock and been found guilty of being a drug dealer.
He had been right to be suspicious of the redheaded beauty who had captivated his brother. She had latched
on to a younger boy when she was a teenager, and been prepared to use his infatuation for her to ruin him and save her own neck when she had been caught in her reckless drug dealing. It would seem that she had ensnared his younger brother in much the same way. She obviously had not changed—only in the colour of her hair, which couldn’t be real. The thing that surprised him was that he had not recognised who she was sooner.
‘Hello, Beth. Or should I say Jane?’ he queried sardonically.