Back in the Brazilian's Bed

‘This trip?’ she prompted. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Let’s get out of here and then I’ll tell you.’ Dante held the door for her, and as she walked through he murmured, ‘One thing you will discover about me, chica, is that I never do anything without a very good reason.’

She stopped dead right in front of him. ‘Let’s get one thing clear from the start. I am not your chica.’

Instead of taking offence, Dante stepped up close. He stood so close, looking down at her, that she could see the tiger gold in his eyes. She held his blazing gaze steadily, though her stomach was coiled in a knot.

‘What are you frightened of, Karina?’ he murmured in a voice she knew so well.

A quiver of awareness rippled across her shoulders even as she stood up to him. ‘Not you, that’s for sure. Shall we go?’ she said.

‘You’re very confident that I won’t take my business elsewhere,’ he said as they walked along the corridor side by side. ‘Why is that, Karina?’

‘You’re not a fool?’ she said.

Dante’s husky laugh ran a full-blown shiver of arousal down her spine. His laugh was so familiar, too familiar. Dante had always possessed an animal energy that attracted her, however hard she tried to fight it off. And he had always understood her as no one else could. He probably knew that right now every part of her was on full alert just being close to him. After that night she had wondered if she would ever be capable of feeling anything for anyone again. She had also wondered if the connection between them would fade across the years. She knew now that neither one of those suspicious was true. If anything, she was more aware of him.

She had to forget the past if she was going to do business with Dante. She would have to forget everything, just as he must accept that everything in her life had changed.

‘You never married?’ he queried out of the blue as they stepped into the empty elevator.

She looked at him, shocked that he could ask such a personal question, then remembered that Dante had always been known for speaking his mind.

‘Neither did you,’ she countered. Fixing her stare on the illuminated floor numbers as they flashed on and off, she tried not to respond when he shrugged and smiled faintly.

‘I’ve been too busy, Karina. What’s your excuse?’

‘Do I need one?’

She spoke mildly, but there was the faintest of threats in her voice. Leave it, Dante, came over loud and clear. He loved it when Karina came back to life. He loved to see fire flashing in her eyes as it once had. Every woman seemed pallid to him by comparison with Karina—until he had walked into her brother’s office this morning and wondered if there was any of her old spirit left. There was, and there was more for him to tease out, he suspected, though she stood as far away from him as possible in the elevator. When the door slid open and she walked out ahead of him, she didn’t speak a word as they headed for his limousine. Perhaps she didn’t trust herself to speak.

His driver opened the door for them, and she got in. She remained silent at his side, allowing him plenty of time to weigh up the shadows in her eyes.

‘You haven’t told me where we’re going yet,’ she reminded him, conscious of his scrutiny.

‘You always used to like surprises, Karina.’

‘And now I don’t have time for them.’ She crossed her legs and sat up primly to make her point. ‘I have a working life to consider,’ she added, when he continued to stare at her.

‘Then stop worrying, because the place I’m taking you is directly connected to the business between us.

‘Relax,’ he advised.

‘I’m perfectly relaxed,’ she snapped, staring straight ahead.

* * *

Dante’s driver drove carefully through the crowded streets. It was carnival. How could she have forgotten? The city was packed with musicians and performers, and crowds from all over the world. At one time this had been her favourite event of the year.

‘You used to love carnival,’ Dante commented, as if he had picked up on her thoughts. ‘Has that changed now?’

‘It hasn’t changed.’ She felt a charge as she turned to look at him. His hands, his lips, his face, his body all so familiar, were within a few scant inches of her, and her mouth dried as she turned to look out of the window at the exuberant crowd. Carnival was all about rhythm and music, abandonment and lust, and here she was, old before her time, dressed in a sober business suit, feeling like a dried-up leaf.