So much for that formidable mental control, Ventura.
He stopped dancing. ‘I think it’s time to call it a night.’
He noticed her face was flushed, and his arms tightened around her like a steel cage.
She stood still, looking up at him. ‘I had no idea your job was so fascinating.’
His eyes became hooded and he saw his own desperate need reflected back at him from her over-bright eyes. Her lips parted softly in silent invitation and he had to fight the instinct to crush her mouth beneath his.
He studied her slender hands curled around his shoulders, her fingers elegant, the nails unvarnished. They suited her serious nature and reminded him that ‘serious’ females were best avoided at all costs.
‘Valentino, are you okay?’
Her hands slid from his shoulders to rest lightly against his chest and he felt scalded.
Deliberately slowing his heart-rate, he evened out his breathing and stepped back from her. Every minute he spent in her presence eroded his self-control and he hated that. Without self-control he was nothing. He had no choice but to sever whatever bond had sprung up between them, because right now he sensed she was more dangerous to him than a hairpin turn at three hundred clicks.
He saw the moment comprehension dawned that he was rejecting what she was unconsciously offering and silently cursed as a moment of hurt flashed across her beautiful face.
It was as if he’d betrayed her. And maybe he had. The way he’d come on to her on the beach, then taken her for ice cream, grilled her about her life, his behaviour with her boss...
Feeling as if he owed her a massive apology, he didn’t know where to start. Or if it would make the situation between them better or worse.
Then she took the decision out of his hands and closed down her emotions as effectively as he had, pivoting on her sexy heels and walking away from him.
Immediately, an image of his father slotted into his brain, but rather than shake it off straight away, as he usually did, he let it settle there for a moment. The image was always the same. A smiling, larger-than-life hero in a white jumpsuit with a cerulean-blue helmet under his arm.
Miller’s eyes.
His father’s helmet.
His father’s death hanging over him like a sword.
In this game, you never look back.
Tino felt his old rage at his father rear up and flattened it. This weekend was supposed to be light and easy. Relaxing. But Miller was drawing something out of him he had no wish to face, and it was messing with his head.
She was messing with his head.
He wasn’t supposed to want her. At least not this much. And he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to want to make her world a better place.
What a crapshoot.
CHAPTER TEN
STALKING into the breakfast room the next morning, Tino plastered what he hoped was an easy smile across his face.
Miller was there, as were TJ, Dexter and another female guest decked out in a Lycra leotard.
Tino hadn’t returned to the bedroom he shared with Miller for a good two hours after she’d walked off the dance floor the night before, and when he had it had been to find her curled up in the middle of the huge bed.
He’d slept on the floor.
If you could call staring at the bedroom ceiling all night sleeping. Then he’d risen early and gone for a run, so he didn’t know what mood Miller was in. By the look of the dark shadows beneath her eyes she hadn’t slept much either.
‘Maverick. You’re up early.’
Valentino’s gaze turned from Miller to TJ. He hated the familiarity with which TJ addressed him but it was one of those things that came with success. Men always thought he was their best friend and women always wanted to nail him. Well, except Miller, who might prefer to put an axe through his head after last night. He poured muesli from the selection of breakfast cereal arranged on the sideboard into a bowl and pulled out the dining chair beside the woman he was supposed to act as if he was in love with. He’d been chivalrous last night—truly, unselfishly chivalrous for the first time in his life—and he had no doubt she’d thank him for it later. Hopefully more than he was thanking himself right now.
‘As are you.’ He glanced at Miller and her grip tightened around the shiny fork she was using as a weapon against a grapefruit.
‘Habit,’ TJ said. ‘No sleeping in when you’re raised on a cattle station. So, are you up for a game of tennis later today?’
‘Thank you.’ Valentino accepted hot coffee from the maid who had just materialised at his side.