But those isolated moments had stopped her, once more, from expressing her love. She wanted the timing to be perfect. She wanted all the shadows gone before confessing.
She wanted him to say I love you too.
Pushing away the deep yearning, she tugged the dress off the hanger. "It's beautiful."
"I'm sure it will be outshone by your beauty." His voice was husky as his gaze slipped down her barely clad form. She'd gotten out of the shower and merely wrapped a towel around her before tackling her wardrobe. A sharp zap of electric energy rocketed up her spine, making her nipples tighten and the tender place between her legs soften.
"Do we have to go to this dinner?" Batting her eyes with exaggeration, she sauntered over to him, tugged his tie loose and ran a finger across his silk-covered chest. She relished the new confidence she'd found in the bedroom after the explosive response he'd given her in his office.
His hand fisted around hers, pressing it against his warmth. "Do not tempt me."
"But I do it so well, don't I?" Standing on tiptoe and kissing the side of his neck, she breathed in the scent of his aftershave and his own unique maleness.
His hands clasped her shoulders and pulled her away. Dark eyes, filled with fierce passion, gave her some comfort. He was not unaffected. However, he was resolute. "I have to be there, Lara, you know that. I'm the keynote speaker."
"I know, I know." Her husband was a man of his word. How could she object to a characteristic she admired in him?
"Believe me, though, if there was any way I could think of to drop it and take you to bed, I would." Running his palms down her arms brought a fresh wash of warmth and electric energy to her.
Pulling herself form his grasp before she started to beg, she glanced at the dress she held in her hands, and then at her husband once more. "Okay. We have to go. Although, in punishment, you have to finish dressing me."
His mouth twitched in amusement. Her teasing no longer threw him. In fact, he'd become quite adept at joining in the fun. "It would be my honor, Signora."
Chuckling, she skipped out of the wardrobe and bounced on the bed. "This should be interesting."
Dante turned, brows rising. "You think I cannot do this?"
"Everything means everything. Shoes, stockings … frilly things." she grinned.
"Ah," he mused. "Your collection."
She nodded before arching her own daring brow at him. "This dress will need a very special bra and panties. Something that won't show beneath the sheerness of the fabric. I'm not sure a man will be able to-"
"Perhaps not an ordinary man." He marched over to her bureau and pulled the drawer open with a flourish that startled a fresh set of giggles from her mouth. "Yet I, as you know, am not an ordinary man."
Watching his broad back, covered in white silk that showed the movement of his muscles as his shoulders flexed, she gave her inward assent. No, her husband was not an ordinary man, in any sense of the word. He was special and unique: gorgeous on the outside and amazing on the inside.
And in this playful mood, irresistible.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she sent a swift prayer of thanks upward. How could she have been so lucky to have landed with the exact man who would fulfill her, in body, in soul, in spirit? How could one woman be so lucky to have been forced into marriage to the man who was perfect for her?
A pink satin thong plopped on her lap, as he started tossing multi-colored bras and camisoles and panties and thongs haphazardly on the bed, the floor, and his wife.
"Dante!" She laughed and tried to catch each brightly colored piece of her collection as it got tossed over his shoulder.
"I am only doing your bidding, Signora." Her husband's tone was solemn, but edged with a tease. "I have been tasked with outfitting you tonight, and I will not fail."
Another cream bra landed on her head, causing her to laugh again. "You are determined to accomplish the task."
Turning to face her, hands filled with lace and silk, he wiggled his brows and then looked down at himself. "As you can see, I am up to the task as well."
Her gaze slid over his broad torso, across his flat stomach, and zeroed in on his blatant arousal. She couldn't help another peal of laughter, and to her delight, a grin crossed his face. A grin that reminded her of the boy she'd fallen in love with long ago.
"Better watch out," she managed between chuckles. "I might take you up on that offer."
"Hold that thought for later tonight." He turned again to the drawer and pulled another lacy concoction out, glanced at it, shook his head and threw it over his shoulder.
She grabbed it as it hit her face, smiling at his antics. Dumping it on the pile of lingerie lying on the bed, she turned to tease him once more.
And then, she noticed his sudden stillness. "Dante?"
With infinite slowness, he lifted out a small plastic container and set it on the top of the dresser. Her heart slammed to a stop. She'd forgotten. She hadn't taken the pills for weeks, knowing she wanted his baby, his love. But she'd stupidly forgotten to get rid of the last of those pills. She could tell from his silence, his tense body, this was going to be a problem.
"Dante." Scrambling off the bed, she took a step toward him, only to be stopped by a large palm held out in rejection.
"Don't come near me." His voice was cold as ice.
Panic started to claw on her insides. Taking a deep breath, she deliberately controlled her voice into a calm, reasonable tone. "I can explain."
For the first time, he looked directly at her and the expression on his face made her step back. "These are birth control pills, si?"
"Yes," she admitted. "I didn't mean-"
A sharp, cutting laugh interrupted her. "Why am I not surprised?"
"You don't understand."
"But I do." He was pale as death, yet his tone was as cool and collected as she'd ever heard it. "You don't want my child."
Her mouth went dry. "No, that's not-"
"There is nothing left to say, Lara." With a jerk, he pulled himself away from the hand she'd tried to hold him with and headed for the bedroom door.
The panic clawed up her throat and into her brain, making it hard for her to breathe or think. She followed his rigid form into the living room and watched helplessly as he slipped on a leather coat. Which words should she use first? What confession should she give him to stop this misunderstanding? If only she had a moment to think. "Wait," she cried.
"There is no longer any reason to wait." Turning, he gave her one more distant look. "I'm sorry. This is my fault and I will take care of it."
Clutching the ends of the towel around her, she rushed to the open door and followed him into the hallway. They were the only ones on this floor, and who cared if anyone saw her like this? He was leaving, before he understood, before he realized she-
"Stop," she wailed. "I have something-"
The lift door closed, showing her a brief glimpse of his shoulders as he stood facing the wall of silver. Facing away from her.
He didn't realize she loved him. He didn't realize she desperately wanted his baby. He hadn't given her the chance to tell him. Why had she lost her voice and reason at this most critical time?
With a curse, she ran into the flat and sprinted to the dresser. Throwing on the first shirt and pants she found, she slipped on a pair of loafers and dashed for the lift.
The trip to ground floor seemed to take forever, but finally she was there and running towards the door.
"Signora." The doorman's cheery smile was like a slap on her face.
"Where is he?" She knew she sounded demented, yet she didn't care.
"The Signore?"
"Yes, yes. Of course."
"He said to tell you he would be in touch shortly." The doorman's smile deepened. "He will take care of everything, he said."
Wildly, Lara looked down the street. Nothing. No limo. No tall man walking away from her. He was gone.
"He'll be in touch shortly?" she whispered.
"Si, Signora." The doorman gently pulled her back into the lobby. "I think it would be best to return to your home and wait. I know the Signore would not like it if you were out in the night streets without him."
"That's true." She clutched the front of her shirt and looked out one more time. Nothing. He was gone.
But he'd be back. He had to come back.