The Playboy of Argentina(12)

Had she done the buttons up wrong just to add to the whole 'tumbled out  of bed' look? His eyes zoned straight in on the asymmetric slices of  fabric that skimmed her toned, succulent thighs.

She strolled right up and took the bottle of water that was dangling  limply from his hand. Then she unscrewed the top, tipped the bottle head  against his, winked, said, 'Cheers!' and took a long, slow sip.

His eyes zoned in on her throat. Swallowing the water. It killed him.

He'd really thought that some of her allure would have rubbed off by  now. Didn't feel like it. Not the way he was warming up. He turned away.                       
       
           



       

Dante beamed at her as if she was some kind of clever child who had  taken its first steps or said its first words. Then he did exactly what  he always did: he stood up and sauntered over as if he was being called  to the stage to collect a prize-all easy charm and sunshine smiles.

'I'm Dante. Absolute pleasure to meet you, Frankie. Again.'

He kissed her right cheek, kissed her left cheek. Held her by the shoulders and gave her a long once-over. Nodded.

Rocco sank the rest of his water and watched from the corner of his eye.

She was smiling that smile. She could be so intense, but when she smiled her face lit up like carnival.

'Pleased to meet you, too, Dante. Again.'

'Dante's just leaving.' He took his empty bottle and fired it into the recycling bin. It clattered noisily.

Dante didn't miss a beat.

'Yeah, I'm heading to Punta, Frankie. We always head there after the  Molina party. It's the Turlington Club party tomorrow night. I'd be  happy to take you.'

It was the usual chat, but seeing the flash of dipped eyes and the curve  of a smile made him bristle. Was she flirting? Was Dante flirting right  back? Whatever-it was pushing his damn buttons. That was all it was. He  should know that. What was wrong with him? He should calm the hell  down.

She opened her mouth to reply but he cut in. 'As I said, I have to call  in at La Colorada. So I'll let you know later if I'm going to make it up  to Punta.'

'How about you, Frankie? What would you rather do? Go and muck out  horses with the Lone Ranger here, or drink cocktails at Bikini Beach  with me?'

Rocco felt his fingers grip Frankie's shoulders. 'Frankie came all the  way here to see the horses, so I reckon that answers your question.'

'And I thought she was here to see you  … '

The swine threw his head back and laughed. Round One to him.

Rocco palmed her back as he steered her down the hallway, with Dante's  chuckling words ringing in the space. 'I'll see myself out, then. See  you at the Turlington Club, Frankie-save me a dance.'

How many times had Dante tried that routine on one of his girls? And how  many times had Rocco found it entertaining? Countless. Watching their  eyes widen, wondering who to look at-wondering if Dante really was  flirting.

'You never said anything about going to your ranch.'

She had stopped dead, in that way that she did. Like a mule.

'No, I didn't, but I have to go there now.'

He paused. This could be the moment. At any other time, with any other  woman, this would be the moment. As soon as they got possessive, bitchy  or mean: It's been great, but change of plans. Thanks for a wonderful  time. It would be that clean. The words would maybe sound harsh, but it  would be short, sweet, simple.

He considered, but he just didn't want to. Not yet anyway. Another day should see all the knots worked out  …

'But I've already told you I was only here with you for the day. I've come halfway across the world to see Esme.'

She was still with that? She couldn't see herself that the minute she'd  landed it was him she'd tracked down? He was still coming to terms with  everything she'd told him, but he was slowly getting there-she couldn't  really be blind to the fact that it was his house she was standing in,  in his shirt, after having his body all over her for the past ten hours.

'Punta is a two-hour trip. If you want to leave now I'll make the arrangements  … '

She opened her mouth.

'I have to go to the estancia. Juanchi, my head gaucho, wants to talk.  He's got a concern about one of the ponies on the genetics programme.  It's up to you. Easy to get you to your friends, if that's what you  want.'

She twirled a strand of hair, made a little face, shrugged. 'Okay. Sounds like a plan. As long as there are no more surprises.'

Sounds like a plan? No more surprises? He almost did a double-take. God, she riled him like no other woman ever could.

But even as she stood there he wanted to wipe the coy little look off her face with his mouth.

'That's the thing about surprises-you can't always see them coming.'

She slipped him a little smile. 'I suppose  … '

'Take us-right now.'

He took the water from her hand, put it on the console table beside them.

'Bolt from the blue.'

He slid his hands round her waist, felt the faint outline of her ribs,  pulled her towards him. She was still holding back. Still playing her  game. He could feel it. No arms round his neck  …  no legs round his  waist.

'This has been a very lovely surprise. Gorgeous.'                       
       
           



       

He stepped into her space, eased his thumbs to the underside of her  breasts. Slowly, slowly rubbed the soft flesh, gently massaged.

'So what if it's only going to last a few more hours? A day? You go your way-I go mine.'

He kept up his sensuous caressing. She blinked her eyes, slowly, softened like butter in the sunshine.

'But there's no point denying that right now we're very  … '

His hands slid to the sides of her breasts and his thumbs found her  nipples. Little light touches to begin with, just how she liked it.

'Very  … '

She closed her eyes.

'Hot for one another  … '

Her head fell back and she ground out a long, satisfied sigh. 'Mmm  … '

He nodded. Slid one hand to the hem of the shirt, gripped her hips, kept  up the pressure on her nipples. Then he bent his mouth to the fabric,  drew long and deep on each nipple, soaked his own shirt with his mouth,  tugging those buds to hard points.

She was so easy to turn up and down, on and off. Like a geyser.

He stood back, admired his work.

'Lose the shirt,' he said.

For a moment she stood, dreamy and drugged. Then she fixed him with a look. Dipped her chin. Smiled like sin.

'Make me.'

He grinned. He couldn't help it. There she went again-matching him.  Firing him up. Making him feel that here was a woman who could stand toe  to toe with him.

Dammit, but he couldn't afford to let crazy thoughts like those into his head.

He grabbed for her. 'Make you, Angel? In ways you've never even dreamed of  … '

She tried to duck away but he caught her. She screamed with laughter as  he hauled her close to him and silenced her with kisses like a crazy  man. She caved. Totally caved. Couldn't get enough. She suckled his lip,  his tongue, showered him with kisses.

She thought she was calling the shots?

He needed to be in complete control of this. Couldn't afford any slip-ups.

He tossed her over his shoulder. Her shirt-his shirt-rode up, and he  held his hand over her bare backside, bringing it down just a little  hard. Just a little warning-he was in control. And that was how it would  stay.





CHAPTER SIX


FRANKIE WAS PREPARED for the long jacaranda-lined driveway. She was  prepared for the still green lakes overhung with sleepy willows. The  curved pillared entrance, the endless array of white-framed windows, the  pops of colour from plants, pots and baskets-all of them were totally  as she'd envisaged. She was even prepared for the unending horizons she  could see on either side of the mansion-style ranch house, rolling into  the distance, underlining the vastness of the lands, the importance of  the estancia, the power of the man.

But she was not prepared for the huge lump that welled in her throat or  the hot tears that sprang to her eyes when she saw the horses that  galloped over to the fence to welcome their master home, racing  alongside the car as he drove, happily displaying their unconditional  love. Nor was she prepared for the uninhibited smile that lit up Rocco's  face as he watched them.

The freedom they enjoyed shone out as they played in the fields  surrounding La Colorada. It had been so long  …  so, so long since she had  enjoyed that self-same freedom. After Ipanema had gone she'd never felt  the same. She'd barely even sat on a horse-she'd thought she'd grown  up, moved on from her teenage fixation with horses, moved on to her  adult fixation with escape.

But here, now, it all came flooding back. Maybe it was just because she  was so tired, or maybe it was a reflection of all that had come at her  these past several hours, but she struggled to hold back a sob as  memories of her happy childhood slammed into her one after another after  another. A childhood that had been so completely shattered with the  arrival of Rocco Hermida.