Dante scanned her face with intent gleaming eyes of green. ‘Your lipstick isn’t even smudged,’ he commented with unconcealed satisfaction.
‘And what the heck is that supposed to mean?’ Topsy flung back at him, dark hair dancing round her slight shoulders as she tossed her head in annoyance.
‘You didn’t let him touch you.’
Topsy sucked in a deep, angry breath that filled her lungs to capacity. ‘And that is your business because...?’
‘Tonight you’re mine,’ Dante informed her with a level of unmistakable assurance that drove her breath right back out of her lungs again, deflating her when she could least afford the weakness.
A split second later, Dante did nothing to help her condition because he did something even more shocking: bending down, scooping her off her feet as though she were a doll and anchoring both arms tightly round her.
‘Have you gone insane? What are you doing?’ Topsy exclaimed, keeping her voice low though because she did not want anyone to come investigating, indeed would have done just about anything to avoid being caught in such a compromising position by anyone living at the castle.
‘Stop acting dim—you know exactly what I’m doing!’ Dante asserted, boldly thrusting wide a door and striding into a room she had never entered before for the simple reason that it was his bedroom.
‘What on earth do you think you’re playing at?’ Topsy yelped as he put her down on the giant four-poster bed with scant ceremony.
‘You went on your date to which I very generously did not object.’
‘You’ve got no blasted right to object!’ Topsy hissed back at him full volume. ‘No right at all!’
His features set rigid, his spectacular bone structure prominent. ‘I want you to spend the night with me.’
‘And even if you’d asked like any normal man, the answer would still be no!’ Topsy slung at him furiously, flushed and all of a quiver from the assumption he appeared to have made about her and anything but grateful to be forced to relive those deeply embarrassing and heated minutes in his car, which had led to his misapprehension that she would be so easily available that she would simply fall into his bed the instant he expressed the desire.
Dante dealt her an incredulous look from scorching green eyes. ‘No?’ he repeated, as though it was a word he had never heard before from a woman in the bedroom.
Topsy scrambled off his bed, retrieved a shoe that had dropped off and wedged her foot back into it at the same time as she smoothed down her rucked skirt. ‘I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression this afternoon but I’m not going to sleep with you,’ she told him squarely.
She reminded Dante of a determined little bird rearranging her bright-feathered plumage, her slightly snub nose in the air, her heart-shaped face pink as one of his mother’s precious roses. ‘Yet you want me,’ he breathed between clenched teeth, for all he had thought about all evening when he should have been catching up on work was his fantasy of getting her in his bed where she belonged.
‘This afternoon...er...well that was an aberration and entirely your own fault,’ Topsy told him roundly, furious at the situation he had put her in, fighting her mortification that he could have thought she would be that easy. Of course when she hadn’t objected to that shameless little session of intimacy in the car, could she really blame him? And it did not help that when she looked at that gorgeous dark angel face of his she felt breathless and boneless and prone to reliving every madly exciting moment of his touch.
‘How was it my fault?’ Dante demanded.
‘You shouldn’t be so good at seduction,’ Topsy responded with every evidence of conviction in that belief. ‘If I’d had a moment to stop and consider, it would never have happened and we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.’
Dante was furious with her for the ambiguous signals she had fed him, but for a split second he was startled to realise he was also on the edge of bursting out laughing at that response. ‘Perhaps we should begin again,’ he breathed instead, his hard mouth curling a little, for he had never said that to a woman in his life before, but then he could also not recall ever being quite so hot to have one.
‘No, we’re not going to begin anything!’ Topsy exclaimed, and then bent down as her heel dug into a sheet of paper on the rug, detaching it with careful fingers and lifting it up to see the columns of figures. ‘Oh, that’s wrong...’
Already detaching from her hand the sheet that had escaped from the file that had fallen to the floor when he put her on his bed, Dante frowned down at her. ‘What’s wrong?’
Topsy peered over his arm and stabbed a finger at one column. ‘It’s added up wrong.’
‘Of course it isn’t,’ he responded impatiently, setting the document down on the file beside his laptop.
‘Dante, I have a doctorate in advanced maths and the one thing I do know is figures and I assure you that that final entry is a mistake,’ Topsy said drily.
‘A doctorate in advanced maths?’ Dante echoed, studying her with incredulous eyes while wondering what someone with such a background was doing working for his mother.
Topsy nodded, wishing she had kept her mouth shut while carefully edging back towards the door.
Dante stalked her like a fox set on cornering a hen. ‘I don’t want you to leave. I want you to explain why we can’t start again.’
Topsy groaned out loud. She hated these conversations with men, for in her experience they almost always went the same way and the men got disgruntled, unable to understand why she wouldn’t just drop into bed with them to scratch a sexual itch. ‘Look, all you want is sex and that’s not enough for me.’
Dante dealt her a pained appraisal, by which time she was plastered up against the back of his bedroom door, one hand curled round the door knob. ‘Doesn’t everybody want sex?’
‘I’m not looking for love and marriage either but there has to be something more,’ Topsy contended, because she had considered the subject in depth and had drawn up a list of desirable male attributes, none of which he met.
An eloquent black brow rose. ‘Something...more?’
‘I’m not into casual sex,’ she pointed out, almost adding any kind of sex but holding that revealing admission back. ‘You don’t know me or even care about me and we’re not similar or even complementary in character,’ she pointed out very seriously. ‘I mean, when did you last wear a pair of jeans?’
Not since his student days. Dante was feeling increasingly like a male version of Alice in Wonderland who had fallen down the rabbit hole only to emerge into an incomprehensible world. ‘Jeans?’ he repeated thunderously at what he saw as yet another red herring. Similar or complementary in character? What planet was she from?
‘You toured a building site today in an Armani suit and gold cuff links. I don’t dress up as a rule, don’t like that appearances sort of thing that people get hung up about. What on earth would we talk about or do together?’
Dante was much more interested in the doing than the talking and he leant forward, bracing his hands on either side of her face. ‘I don’t think entertainment would cause us much of a problem,’ he husked in a low-pitched growl that raised colour in her cheeks again, the clean, spicy, male scent of him entrapping her like a covert spell. ‘Mentioning stuff like clothing is just so superficial—I’m surprised at you.’
‘But superficial, ruthless and mercenary is what you are!’ Topsy protested helplessly, feeling crowded at the few inches that were now all that separated their bodies.
‘We would have maths in common,’ Dante countered with something that felt dangerously akin to desperation. ‘I’m terrific at maths.’
‘Oh...’ Topsy was also thinking about his reputation as a philanthropist, striving to cram him under an acceptable label on her all-important list of ideal male traits. But there was just no way he
would fit there. He wasn’t modest or soothing and she seriously doubted that he could cook or clean. All he had going for him was sex appeal and a very immodest amount of it, she reasoned feverishly.