The Girl That Love Forgot

She’d always known she would someday be exposed as a talentless fraud. Barely holding back tears, she turned away. “I … I should go …”

Stefano grabbed her wrist. “Don’t.”

The pressure of his hand on her wrist left her light-headed as the pace of her heartbeat quickened. She ripped her hand away. Stuffing the pictures back in her bag, she lashed out,

“What more can you possibly say?”

He looked at her. “You are a brilliant photographer, Annabelle. I have seen your work.

You can do better than this.”

“Maybe I can’t.”

“You have observed Santo Castillo from a distance. But you need to feel it. You need to live it.” His dark eyes plundered her soul. “You need to come work with me.”

She stared at him in confusion. “Work? With you?”

“Sí. With the horses.”

Annabelle thought of shoveling hay, rather than watching through the safe cool distance of her camera lens. She thought of the sweat, the hard work, the risk of her makeup smearing and revealing her scar. And worst of all, she thought of being so close to Stefano, when it took all of her effort not to throw herself in his arms and beg him to make love to her.

She pressed her fingernails painfully into her palm. “Why would you want my help with the horses?”

“It is you who needs the help.” He brushed against her in a touch that seemed accidental, but she knew was not. The slow burn of his nearness sent tingles down her spine, causing her lips to tingle and her toes to curl. “To understand the ranch, you must feel it—” reaching up, he put his hand over her heart, not quite touching her blouse “—right here.”

She looked up at him. She co

uld feel the radiant heat of his hand. Annabelle’s heart pounded even harder, slamming against her ribs.

Then he took both her hands in his own.

“Will you come with me?” His fingers enfolded hers, his bare skin against hers. He did it gently, like a lover’s tender clasp, and yet her limbs burned, as if coming back to life after a long winter.

Annabelle knew she was in danger. Knew it to her bones. He wasn’t trying to seduce her body now, but her heart. Even as she shook with need for his warmth, his touch, she was scared of his power over her, and the knowledge that if she surrendered, a love affair could come to only one sad end: her own destruction.

She swallowed. “I …”

He cupped her cheek with his hand. “Come with me today, Annabelle,” he whispered.

“No camera. Just you.” His hot, dark gaze fell briefly to her lips, and her mouth tingled, making her feel dizzy. “For one day, leave your camera behind. Look with your eyes. Look … with your heart.”

“Why do you care so much?”

A smile traced his sensual mouth. “I want your photographs of Santo Castillo to shine.

To leave no doubt that my ranch is the best in the world.”

“The best in Europe.”

He gave her a grin. “That is a difference of opinion.”

She laughed at the gleam in his eyes, then sobered. “Is that the only reason?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I look at you and see an innocent, bright young woman that’s been hurt by the world. Beneath your cold exterior, Annabelle, I see a broken heart.”

She nearly gasped. How did he know? How did he see?

Setting his jaw, he shook his head. “It infuriates me. Like seeing a promising yearling with its spirit broken.”