Desire still hummed between them, calling to her with even more strength and power than the night before. And she might have answered that call, too, if he hadn’t used that one word, that single, appalling word—Dantes—that hadher itching to run in the opposite direction as fast as her wobbly legs would takeher.
She wriggled back into the dress she’d chosen with such care for her first showing. She didn’t bother trying to hand-press the wrinkles. Nothing would salvage this mess other than a trip to the dry cleaner’s. But at least now she could face him on an even footing, or at least on a somewhat even footing.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Okay, let’s have this out. You think I came on to you last night so I could find out your plans in regard to TH?” she demanded. At his nod, she glared at him. “How about the possibility of your coming on to me so you could get the inside scoop on TH’s plans? After all, you’re trying to buy out the Fontaines, aren’t you?”
He studied her for a long silent moment. “It would seem we have a problem.”
“Oh, no, we don’t.” She found her shoes kicked under the wet bar and shoved her feet into the spiked heels. At the same time, she thrust her fingers through her hair in an attempt to restore order to utter disaster. “It’s very simple from here on out. We avoid each other at all costs and we don’t mention last night to anyone.Anyone,”she stressed. “If I’d known who you were last night, I’d never have taken off with you.”
“Liar.”
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to admit the painful truth. “Fine. That’s a lie. But I wouldn’t have gone with you because you’re Severo Dante. It would have been despite that fact.” She opened her eyes and fought to keep her gaze level and not betray the profound effect he had on her. “I owe the Fontaines more than I can possibly repay. Betraying them with their chief competitor isn’t the sort of repayment I had in mind. So, from now on, we’re through. Got it?”
He came for her again, closing the distance so that no more than a whisper of space separated them. It would have been so easy to push aside that cushion of air and take another delicious tumble into insanity. Just the mere thought had her body reacting, softening and loosening in anticipation. He was a Dante, she struggled to remind herself. She hadn’t realized that fact before, and therefore couldn’t blame herself for what happened the previous night. But now that she did know, she had a duty to keep her distance.
He brushed aside a lock of her hair. Just that slight a touch and she came totally unraveled. “It would seem we have a problem,” he repeated.
No question about that. “I’ve been consorting with the enemy.” Still consorted. Still wanted to consort. And then consort somemore.
He shook his head. “It’s a hell of a lot more complicated than that. Whatever thisthingis between us? It isn’t over.” He traced his hand along the curve of her cheek, leaving behind a streak of fire. “It’s only just begun.”
Chapter Three
Severoleft Le Premier, stopping at his apartment only long enough to change, before continuing to Sausalito to confront his grandfather about the events of the previous night. He had questions, questions only his grandfather could answer.
“Primo?” he called, stepping through their frontdoor.
Silence greeted him, which meant Nonna was out and he should continue on toward the gated garden behind his grandparents’ hillside home if he wanted to find the object of his search. Sev headed for the kitchen at the rear of the house and stepped from the cool dusky interior into a sunlit explosion of scent and color.
Sure enough, he found Primo hard at work on a bed of native Californian wildflowers. Thick gray hair escaped from beneath the brim of a canvas bucket hat and surrounded a noble, craggy face. At Sev’s approach, Primo rocked back onto his heels, grunting in pain from thearthritis that had begun to plague him in recent years.
Fierce golden eyes, identical to Sev’s own, fixed on him. “Do me a favor.” He spoke in his native tongue, his Italian seasoned with the unique flavoring of his Tuscan birthplace. “Grab one of those bags of mulch and bring it over here. My ancient bones will be forever grateful.”
Sev did as ordered. Stooping, he split the bag with a pair of gardening shears and set to work beside his grandfather. Memories from his childhood hovered, other days that mirrored this one, days filled with the scent of cool, salt-laden air combined with rich loamy earth. Long, industrious moments passed before Sev spoke.
“I’m in the mood for a story, Primo.”
His grandfather’s thick brows lifted in surprise. “You have a particular one in mind?”
Sev spread a generous layer of mulch around a bed that combined the striking colors of golden poppies, baby blue eyes, and beach strawberries. “As a matter of fact, Ido.” He paused in his endeavors. “Tell me what happened when you met Nonna.”
“Ah.” An odd smile played across the older man’s face. “Are you asking out of simple academic interest, or is there a more personal reason behind your sudden interest?”
“Tell me.”
Primo released a gruff laugh at the barked demand. “So. It is personal. You have finally felt the burn, have you,nipote?”
Sev wiped his brow before fixing his grandfather with an uncompromising stare. “I want to know what thehellhappened to me and how to make it stop.”
“What happened is what your ancestors always called the Dante Inferno,” Primo answered simply. “Some consider it a family curse. Ihave always considered it a family blessing.”
The name teased at a far-off memory. No, not a memory. More of a childhood story, carrying a grain of truth amid the more fantastical elements. “Explain.”
Primo released his breath in a deep sigh. “Come. The story sits better with a beer in one hand and a cigar in the other.”
Brushing plant detritus from his slacks, he stood and led the way into the kitchen. Cool and rustic, huge flagstones decorated the kitchen floor while rough-hewn redwood beams stretched across the twelve-foot plaster ceiling. Alarge, scarred table, perfect for a substantially sized family, took up one end of the room, while a full complement of the latest appliances filled the other. After washing up, the two men helped themselves to bottles of homemade honey beer and took a seat at the table. Primo produced apair of cigars. Once they were clipped and lit, he leaned back in his chair and eyed his grandson through an aromatic haze of smoke.
“I did try and warn you,” he began.
